Legacy & Spellbound

by Nancy Holder

  In his gut, he had to agree with her. He had been a Ranger, after all. Rangers never leave anyone behind. We can’t afford to have the bodies identified.

  He took a deep breath and lay down in the circle. He exhaled slowly, allowing his mind to become acutely focused while at the same time emptying it of all exterior distractions.

  He closed his eyes and opened them in another place. The earth beneath his feet was scorched. A hot wind whipped past him, causing his hackles to rise. Evil was afoot; it permeated the air like moisture until he was afraid it was coating his skin in its dank decay.

  He shook his head to remove the fanciful thoughts buzzing there. He had a job to do. He turned slowly in a circle, taking in his environment. He smiled. Not too far away was a huge mountain of rock. That had to be where Barbara had been trapped and therefore was the last place that he knew Jer had been.

  He walked toward it slowly, senses alert. In his mind he cast barriers about himself, impenetrable walls. And beyond those he placed alarms that would warn him of the approach of any creature. A year in the jungle had taught him how to put up barriers in his mind, to be master of his thoughts when he chose. He had never dreamed that he would have to go back to that.

  He knew Marie-Claire had hated that control. She often complained when he first returned from the war that he wouldn’t “let her in.” God knew he had tried. She had grown tired of waiting. He had often wondered of late if she would have been pleased to know that his barriers had crumbled around him once she had died, leaving his mind exposed to all.

  Those thoughts had no part of him now, though. He had picked up the pieces of his life, and it was time to embrace his instinct for survival.

  He reached the mountain quickly. Even the stone had been burned by whatever fire had swept through. Slowly, deliberately, he began to walk clockwise around the mountain, looking for an opening, a fissure, anything.

  He had been walking for several minutes before he saw it. It was an outcrop of rock that was shaped like a human hand. Scalp tingling, he stepped in for a better look.

  It didn’t just look like a hand, it was a hand. It was as though it were pressing out against the rock, trapped inside and seeking to break through. He lifted his fingers to touch the hand and closed his eyes. He reached with his mind, past the layer of stone and inside.

  He felt pain, rage, and … surprise. He smiled knowing that he had found Jer. He pushed his thoughts from his head, down his arm to his fingers, through the rock and into Jer’s hand, up his arm and to his mind. He connected, he felt it.

  Are you all right?

  The answer came, faint but clear. Not hurt, but going a little nuts.

  Good, I’m here to help.

  Who are you?

  Amanda and Nicole’s father.

  The sense of surprise became almost overwhelming, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Never count the old man out.

  I won’t make that mistake again, Jer answered.

  So, what happened here?

  Didn’t Holly tell you?

  She didn’t make much sense.

  There was silence for a moment, and he could tell Jer was wondering what to make of that. He didn’t ask, though.

  Well, the rock turned into two snakes who were battling each other. One of them swallowed me, and then they froze back into stone.

  Richard stepped back for a moment and took another look at the stone. It looked like any mountain. He was looking with his eyes, though. He closed his eyes and saw the image again in his mind. Slowly he began to make out two different forms, serpents, biting each other. Jer was trapped in one of them, only a few feet down from its mouth.

  He stepped back to touch Jer’s hand and felt the other’s panic at having been left suddenly alone again.

  It is all right. I will not leave you, he reassured him. The Fire …

  It is not burning here now. I’m going to disconnect for a moment, but I am not going anywhere.

  Jer didn’t respond, but Richard could feel his reluctant acceptance. He pulled his hand back again and studied the mountain.

  He could see the serpents now with his eyes. He studied them, the position of Jer in the throat of the one. He focused his gaze on the rock around Jer’s hand. He imagined the snake’s skin stretching, growing thinner, and at last rupturing, spilling forth its prize.

  The rock groaned in anguish, and then with a sharp scream began to part around Jer’s hand. Slowly, as though it were being born, the hand pushed its way through a tear in the rock. It was horribly scarred, barely human. The tear widened and was followed by the rest of the arm. Then a second hand appeared, and then the arm.

  At last the head burst through, and Jer let out a strangled gasp. He looked hideous, but Richard had prepared himself for that. The kid had been burned by the Black Fire, and Sasha had told Richard that it was only because of incredibly strong magic that he was still alive. After gulping in several breaths of air, he yelped, “Help!”

  “Help me help you,” Richard said calmly. “Imagine the rock parting, imagine the neck of the serpent rupturing and freeing you.”

  Jer closed his eyes, and Richard could feel him helping. He could feel the stone parting faster. In moments, Jer was spilling onto the ground, retching.

  Richard gave him a moment to collect himself before moving forward to help him stand. The young man stood slowly, on shaking legs.

  “How long have I been trapped in there?”

  “Just a few days,” Richard assured him.

  “It felt like an eternity.”

  “I’m sure it did. Can you move? We should get out of here,” Richard said. As though on cue, one of his trip alarms went off. Something was coming.

  Part Two

  Fire

  Some in fire go to their death

  Some by water are bereft

  Air may bring death, not birth

  But they all return to Earth

  So of these three I choose the fire

  To dance aflame in death’s desire

  And as the flesh melts from my bone

  You will hear me blissfully moan

  FIVE

  MAGOG

  Witches now are on the run

  Beaten by the great god, the sun

  They scream and die from the fright

  Fading now into the night

  Cahors dancing shall return

  As we make the Deveraux burn

  Someone new within our sight

  Hails the watchfires of the night

  Tri-Coven: Winters

  I hate waiting, Amanda thought as she sat, keeping watch over her father’s still form. That’s all I seem to do is wait.

  “Then maybe it’s time to stop,” said a male voice she didn’t recognize. She jumped as the High Priestess of the Mother Coven appeared on the inside of the door accompanied by a gorgeous guy.

  “We have to get better wards,” Tommy muttered.

  Amanda rose hastily to her feet. “High Priestess, blessed be.”

  “Blessed be,” the older woman said solemnly.

  Everyone else chorused in.

  “Amanda, may I introduce Alex Carruthers, your cousin.”

  Amanda blinked twice. “My what?”

  “Your cousin.”

  “I never knew you had so many relatives,” Tommy quipped. “Cousins have just been popping out everywhere.”

  Amanda just stood staring. Another cousin? Did my mother know about him?

  Alex stepped forward, hand extended. Amanda shook herself and stepped forward to clasp his hand. The contact sent electricity through her arm, and her palm burned. It felt like the first time she and Holly had clasped hands, when they had propelled each other across the room.

  She broke the contact, stepping back. “Well, Alex, welcome to our little corner of the world. These are the other members of my coven: Tommy, Kari, Philippe, Pablo, Sasha, Armand. Barbara, and my father, over there,” she said, waving toward his prone body, “are not covenates, but they do fight wi
th us.”

  “I thought there would be more of you,” Alex commented.

  “There were,” Philippe spoke up. “However, several were recently killed, and a couple of others are missing.”

  “My condolences,” Alex said, dropping his eyes briefly in a show of respect.

  “They are welcome, as are you,” Amanda said. “Please, take a seat. We are waiting for my father; he is in the Australian Dreamtime trying to rescue another of our number.”

  He nodded as he sat in a chair across from the cabin’s stone fireplace. “My two other cousins—Holly and Nicole?”

  “Both missing,” Tommy said.

  “Ah, it looks like I have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “First, we want to know about you,”

  Armand spoke. Amanda was startled. Armand, the member of the Spanish Coven who had studied to be a priest, rarely spoke up and almost never questioned anyone. It was a good warning for them all.

  “Yes,” she said, raising her defenses back up. “Tell us all about you.”

  He smiled in a way that sent shivers down her spine. He can read my mind. His comment when he appeared wasn’t just a fluke!

  “I’m an actor by trade, a witch by practice and belief. I serve the Goddess.”

  “And you just happen to show up right when we could use another person?” Armand questioned.

  Alex raised his hands defensively. “Until a few hours ago I had never even heard of you guys. Then Luna sought me out and told me I had cousins and that they needed my help.”

  “It’s true,” Luna said. “I asked the Goddess to show me the lost Cahors witch; I was hoping to find Holly. Instead, she showed me Alex. His branch split off from yours at the beginning of the twentieth century. His family, like yours, forgot their ancestry. Like you, Amanda, and your sister and cousin, he discovered his magical abilities on his own.”

  “I’ve been in a coven since I was quite young,” he confessed. “I’m the head of my coven now.”

  “Well, you don’t need to do a spell to find Holly anymore,” Kari said, her voice trembling.

  “You found her?” Luna asked.

  “More like she found us,” Philippe said ruefully. “She came after us.”

  “She attacked you?”

  Pablo cleared his throat. “I have something to tell you. All of you. I have been communing with … the forces that tell me what goes on in the ethers and vapors.”

  “Holly is in thrall to Michael Deveraux.”

  A stunned silence fell over the company. The High Priestess visibly paled. The other woman shifted her weight uncomfortably before she finally asked, “You know this for sure?”

  Philippe glanced at Pablo and then nodded.

  He had already told Philippe. But Philippe doesn’t trust Alex, else he would have told her before what Pablo felt. Amanda quickly banished the thoughts from her mind. If Philippe didn’t want to share some information, then the last thing she needed was to start thinking about it and have Alex read her mind.

  Suddenly Pablo lurched to his feet, wild-eyed. “She’s here.”

  Kari scrambled to her feet. “How did she find us? I never even told Jer about this cabin!”

  Ignoring her, Amanda turned to Alex. “Welcome to hell. I hope you’re ready.”

  “What can she do?”

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a skeletal warrior on a ghost-horse crashed through the wall. The beast’s shoulder hit Luna, sending the High Priestess spinning into Amanda and they both fell in a heap.

  From the floor, Amanda could stare out of the hole in the wall. She saw Holly, surrounded by a ghost army of dozens, her arms lifted in the air and her hair swirling around her head.

  Then the ghost soldiers were charging, heading straight for them. Then a voice cried out, deep as thunder, and the walls of the house shook. She looked up and saw Alex standing with his arms open wide.

  “Ego diastellomai anemos o apekteina eneka!” he cried.

  “What?” she asked. Her words were snatched from her lips by a wind that seemed to spring from nowhere.

  “It’s Greek,” Armand shouted. “He’s commanding the wind to fight on our behalf.”

  Amanda watched in awe as warriors flew apart, tiny tornadoes exploding upon them. At last only Holly was left. She opened her mouth as though she were shouting something, but a blast of wind picked her up and hurled her through the air.

  She lay still, unmoving, for a long minute, and Amanda’s heart caught in her throat. Is she—?

  Slowly, Holly stood up. She stared for a moment, and Amanda realized she was making eye contact with Alex. Suddenly Holly turned and melted into the shadows.

  The winds died instantly, and Alex seemed to slump a little. Amanda shakily rose to her feet and brushed herself off. “Is everyone okay?”

  “Fine,” Philippe answered. He turned to stare at Alex. “How did you do that?”

  Alex shrugged. “Air—it’s one of the basic elements. Everyone in my coven gravitates toward one more than the others. I’ve always been good with wind.”

  “And apparently Holly is not. I think we’ve found a weakness,” Luna noted as she, too, stood up. “We can’t stay here, though. We need to move someplace safer, where she can’t find us.”

  “We can’t go until my father comes out of the Dreamtime,” Amanda protested, panic rising in her.

  “You say he went in to rescue someone, a witch?” Alex asked.

  Amanda hesitated. “Actually, he’s more of a war-lock … it’s … complicated.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “It must be. I could go in and try to get them out.”

  “We’ve already sent too many people there,” Philippe protested.

  “Ah, but did any of them have experience with astral traveling?” Alex asked with a smile.

  Amanda shook her head ruefully. “No. None of us has experience with that.”

  Alex’s smile broadened. “Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m here, because it just so happens that I do. It’s one of the attributes of those who claim air as their element.”

  “Of course it is,” Tommy muttered under his breath for Amanda’s ears alone. She had to agree with him. It was awfully convenient. Still, anything was worth a try if it could bring her father back.

  “All right, you’re hired,” she said, forcing a smile that she knew didn’t reach her eyes.

  Richard and Jer: The Dreamtime

  The fire was burning all around, rushing toward them faster than Richard could push it back. The wicked black flames writhed like something alive, and he could feel their heat upon his cheek. He pushed and the flames pushed back, inching closer until his skin began to blister. Beside him, Jer was chanting, but the roar of the fire was drowning out the words.

  A man approached them, his body seeming to cut a path through the flames. Within a moment he was in front of them. “Uncle Richard?”

  Richard hesitated only a moment before nodding. There was something familiar about the young man, though he didn’t think he’d ever seen him before.

  The stranger lifted his arms and shouted in a strange tongue. Suddenly wind was everywhere, so strong that Richard and Jer began to stagger. The stranger, though, seemed to remain unaffected. Then, as though the flames were from a thousand birthday candles, the fire was snuffed out.

  The silence was almost deafening, and into it the stranger spoke: “I am your nephew.”

  Heaven help us all, he thought as he stood blinking in disbelief.

  “I am Alex. Let’s go. Your daughter is waiting for us.”

  Then, within a minute, Richard was opening his eyes and staring up into his daughter’s face. “Baby,” he gasped.

  “Daddy,” his Amanda cried as she threw her arms around him.

  “Jer?” he said.

  A voice croaked from beside him, “I’m here.”

  “And—your cousin?”

  “Well, thank you, Uncle.” The young man came into his range of vision, a pleased smile pla
stered on his face.

  Richard slowly sat up, all the images of the Dreamtime flooding him at once. “No one’s possessed, right?” he asked.

  “Doesn’t look like it,” Amanda assured him.

  “Good.” He turned to look at Jer. Someone must have tossed him a towel, because he had it wrapped around his head and face.

  “Anything happen while I was away?”

  “Holly attacked us again.”

  “Holly … attacked you?” Jer asked, sounding dazed.

  Amanda knelt down and placed a hand on Jer’s shoulder. “When she came back from the Dreamtime, she wasn’t alone. Demons or something are possessing her.”

  “No!” Jer gasped.

  “There is more that you should know,” Philippe said, also placing a hand on his shoulder. “She is in thrall … to your father.”

  The cry of anguish that came from Jer was like no sound Richard had ever heard from a human being. Out of respect, he ducked his eyes, the only gesture of privacy he could offer him.

  When Jer finally spoke, though, Richard heard the steel in his voice. “I will find her and free her, if I have to kill my father and myself to do it.”

  Let us all pray it doesn’t come to that.

  San Francisco: April 17, 1906 8:00 P.M.

  Veronica Cathers waited in the hotel room at the Valencia for Marc Deveraux. She could feel him coming; it was a fever in her blood. It was a trap, it had to be, but still, she waited. She had not seen Marc in the six months since they had battled in the basement of the Coronado Hotel in Los Angeles.

  Veronica had been visiting her sister, Ginny, in Los Angeles and had been staying at the hotel. Marc Deveraux had been another guest at the hotel, and it had not taken them long to find each other. She shuddered at the memory.

  The hotel had burned down completely, she had heard, though she had never returned to see the wreckage. She had fled into the night to return home in time to bury her husband, who had died that same day.