by Nancy Holder
More than any of these stories, though, Anne-Louise had always been fascinated and disturbed by the stories of the Satanic rituals performed in the very hills she was walking. Every year, ignorant, bored, rebellious college students from UC Santa Cruz and elsewhere gathered to perform bizarre rituals and sacrifice untold numbers of animals. She glanced protectively at Whisper.
The cat paused to look at her, half a lizard in her mouth, and cocked her head questioningly to the side. In almost every instance the children involved in such events knew nothing of magic—white, black, or gray. The “rituals” were just an outlet for their own twisted, sadistic natures. A very few of them, though, were worshipers of the Horned God who used the rest as cover for their activities. Since the Mother Coven had taken property in these hills, they had worked to eradicate such horrors. True witches don’t kill cats, Anne-Louise told herself. All the more reason to fear Holly.
The younger witch had scared her from the first. She had too much power, especially for one so young in years and young in the Craft. They all do. Anne-Louise herself had had to work and study for years to accomplish even some of the most minor magics, except for wards. Wards were her specialty—her “gift,” as the High Priestess called it. Every witch had a special gift, the thing at which she excelled. What made Holly dangerous was the fact that she excelled at everything and had never had to learn discipline to do so.
The trees moaned as the wind picked up, and Anne-Louise glanced around self-consciously. Yes, something is coming, she thought. And when it gets here, we’re all going to be in a lot of trouble.
Nicole: Avalon
Nicole trembled. “Who’s there?” she called.
A low, mocking laugh was all the answer she received.
She saw something move out of the corner of her eye, a whisper of something not quite there. She twisted her head, and it was gone. “Goddess?” she whispered, praying that it was but knowing that it wasn’t.
“No.”
She twisted her head back to where the sound came from, but there was nothing. “The Horned God?” she asked, swallowing around the lump in her throat.
Another laugh. “No.”
“Then, who, what are you?” she demanded, pulse thundering in her ears.
“Something … else.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Something you can’t understand,” it roared, and then suddenly it was on top of her, pressing against her, moving through her.
“And now—I’m not alone.”
As it merged with her mind, she felt evil, ancient and mysterious. She felt rage, lust, and deceit. And there was something else …
… there were two.
Kari: California
Kari sped down Interstate 5, leaving the town of Winters behind as fast as she could. “Come on, come on,” she shouted, punching her horn to punctuate it. She swerved around the car in front of her and hit the accelerator as she looked at the clock on the dashboard.
Any minute now they would know she was missing, that she wasn’t coming back. She had to get as far away as she could before they sicced the bloodhound Pablo on her—or, worse, the mysterious new cousin, Alex.
They had all been hiding in her family cabin near the town of Winters, which was situated next to the university town of Davis. While everyone got used to Alex and began magical and physical preparations for the evening, she had volunteered to go get food. Somehow, miraculously, they had let her go alone.
She had bypassed the general store, speeding toward the freeway as fast as she could. I can’t handle this anymore. I’m sick of waiting around to be killed like the others. And Alex … Alex terrifies me.
She didn’t know why, but there was something about him that made her uneasy. She pushed her foot down harder on the gas pedal. She had to get clear, she had to think. Despair filled her, though, with a sinking feeling that even if she escaped the coven, she wouldn’t be safe. Into the blackness of her thoughts, a single small light appeared.
What if I can get the two sides to stop fighting? What if I can get them to call a truce? There must be a way we can all live together in peace.
She narrowed her eyes. Jer had once said his father had a place in the desert, sort of a spiritual retreat. It was in New Mexico. If they won’t listen, he might.
Nicole: Avalon
Nicole woke up and began to vomit. She tried to curl on her side, but the chains still binding her ankles and right wrist wouldn’t let her move too far.
From behind her, a familiar, hated voice commented, “You look like hell.”
James! She turned her head slowly and stared at him. “What is on this island?”
“What?” he said, sounding puzzled.
“You heard me,” she spat. “What is on this island? There is something here.”
He hesitated for a moment, and in that moment he almost seemed human to her, frail and filled with uncertainty. “Once, when I was young, I thought—”
“Thought what?” she pressed.
“Nothing,” he snapped, his veneer sliding back into place.
“Tell me!”
He shrugged, an evil grin spreading across his face. “I guess you’ll just have to ask the ghosts, once I turn you into one.” He threw a dress down on the bed beside her. “Be dressed in that when I return in five minutes.”
“Or what?”
“Or, I’ll dress you,” he said, bending down to give her the full effect of his leer.
Sickened, she turned her face away. She heard him move to the door and open it. Then, with a great clanking, her chains fell from her wrist and ankles. She heard the door shut behind him as she sat up.
He intends to sacrifice me, she thought as she stared at the dress. Well, he’s going to find out I’m not that easy to kill.
Astarte leaped up into her lap with a soft mew, and Nicole stroked her soft fur for a moment before moving her aside so she could begin dressing. Astarte had the most uncanny ability to make herself scarce when James was around.
“That’s because I have not chosen him,” the cat opened its mouth, and a strong yet feminine voice spoke.
“Goddess,” Nicole gasped.
“Yes, child, I have been watching you, guiding you. Your time is not yet over. It has only just begun.”
“Those things that attacked me?”
“The betrayer and his apprentice.”
“What did they want from me?” she asked while pulling her shirt off over her head.
“What they always want—to corrupt, to pervert.”
“Why me?” she asked, as she stepped into the dress.
“Because you are the future.”
Nicole zipped up the dress and was about to ask what that meant when there was a sound at the door. The cat disappeared, and Nicole turned to face James as he entered.
He looked her up and down appreciatively. “You’ll make a lovely sacrifice for the Horned God tonight.” He sidled close and grasped her upper arm. He pulled her close, so that they were inches from each other. “Too bad we both know you’re not a virgin.”
She smirked. “Yeah, remind me to thank Eli for that.”
“Slut!” he hissed as he raised his other hand to slap her. She just looked up at him, a smile twisting her lips. She had gotten to him. That’s it, James. I win.
He knew it too. She could see it in his eyes. With a snarl, he turned and started dragging her toward the door. Instead of fighting him, she shook her arm free— How did I do that? — and walked beside him.
When they reached the dungeon he locked her in a cell. “I’ll be back for you in a little while.”
“Do you really think this cage can hold me, James, if I will it not to?” she asked mockingly. The tides had turned and, somehow, despite the fact that she was the prisoner, she had all the power.
James nearly killed the messenger. “What do you mean, my father wants to see me right away?
The man kneeling at his feet didn’t lift his eyes. “Your presence is wanted a
t once, no delays.”
James felt his blood boiling with frustration. The sacrifice of his bride would have to wait. He was still playing his father’s game, pretending to be the dutiful son, and he wasn’t ready yet to end the charade.
As James got in the boat to cross the waters back to England, he didn’t notice another boat that was docking a hundred yards away. The thick fog obscured its occupants from sight. The island had been heavily warded for centuries, even more so since Nicole’s escape. As soon as she’d left they had installed barriers that made it impossible to open a portal on the island.
That was why the four huge, lumbering beasts were crawling out of the boat they’d had to steal to attain the island. Because they landed at the same time that James’s boat was leaving, no sensor alarms went off. They were lucky, but then the Golems knew nothing of luck. All they knew was the task that they were assigned, and they had been trying for a couple of days to find and kill Nicole Anderson.
SEVEN
MORDON
We waver now in our quest
Green Man tell us what is best
Shall we kill or shall we bleed
And where shall we plant our seed
Betrayal now all around
Weeping is the only sound
We shall die with Wind Moon rise
Victims of warlock lies
Kari: New Mexico
As Kari swerved around the orange barrels rerouting her path across the freeway lanes, the torrential rain pummeled the top of the car like fists in metal gauntlets. She wasn’t sure why the barrels were there, but they made her progress even harder … and it was difficult enough already.
Her windshield wipers could do nothing against the onslaught; water rushed down the glass with the speed and power of a waterfall. Fanning across the highway, the rising waters sent her hydroplaning, and she cried out and grabbed the steering wheel hard.
Kari was struggling across high desert country. Her neck and upper back were knotted with fear; when she had awakened in her motel room, she had listened intently to the news reports about tonight’s flash floods. But something told her to drive, anyway, and to keep driving, and she didn’t know if the demanding voice inside her head was that of friend or foe. Now that she had bolted, it could be one of the coven members trying to catch up with her; or one of those hideous Golems … or Holly herself.
Her stomach clenched. She was scared to death of what Holly had become. What would Jer think of his precious “soul mate” now that she had practically no soul at all? She, Kari, could almost forgive him for dumping her in favor of Holly. Hell, she was the strongest witch alive, and he was a warlock. But she was also the one who’d left him to die in the Black Fire in the gymnasium. His terrible scars were evidence of her “love” for him.
Maybe Kari wasn’t as exciting as Holly, but she sure as hell was more loyal. She’d stayed in the coven even though it had meant risking her life, and had offered her apartment as the place to hold Circle until things got too dicey. She hadn’t signed up for any of that, but she’d stayed on board when the others needed her. All she had wanted to do was go to grad school, be Jeraud Deveraux’s lover, and learn a few bits and pieces of his magical tradition.
How was I to know his family was into Black Magic?
It was as if she were being punished for having ambition. Wanting to learn about things that would stretch her limits; needing to explore beyond the mundane world… .
You knew, she told herself harshly. You knew about his family. Somewhere deep down, you accepted how bad they were.
No …
And you always felt guilty about your relationship with him. He’s so much younger than you. You were using him, because it was always a bargain between you and him—pleasure for magic.
Hey, not a bad trade for either of us, and he was old enough to know what he was doing …
… and then you fell in love with him, for real.
Tears welled.
Now Holly’s gone completely dark. If I don’t stop her and Michael Deveraux, they’ll kill us all.
The car suddenly hydroplaned; she felt the water lift the wheels from the road and rush it forward. It teetered and threatened to carom in a circle, and she cried out, swerving, riding the current until, miraculously, the wheels found the road again.
She had ignored dozens of warnings on TV. A number of people died in New Mexico’s flash floods every year, many of them while driving. It appeared that everyone else had stayed home; she could see no other lights in the darkness, though for a time, strange, fiery plumes had bellowed from the tops of concrete towers way off in the distance, as if from some kind of refinery.
There they are again, she thought, squinting through the windshield. Then she gasped.
They weren’t like the plumes she’d seen before. These three towered much higher in the sky, and they glowed with the radiant blue of magical energy.
As she watched, they flickered, vanished, and reappeared again, more brightly this time.
They’re closer, she realized.
They went out again, reappeared again.
And closer.
She stopped the car.
The three plumes rushed into being about ten feet away from her car, illuminating the black highway, casting the interior of the vehicle in blue light.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. Her breath caught in her throat.
Then the flames extinguished. Before she had time to react, fire banks erupted on either side of the car, at ground level, their blue fire geysering past her line of sight and piercing the rain-soaked heavens.
Kari screamed aloud, inadvertently jerking the steering wheel to the left and pushing her foot down on the gas. She kept screaming as she headed straight for the wall of blue flame, pulling her hands off the wheel and raising them above her face. She shut her eyes tightly, screaming for all she was worth.
Then the car began to hydroplane again; or at least that was the sensation she felt. She dropped her hands back onto the wheel and opened her eyes.
Although still pelted by the rain, her Honda was now entirely surrounded by the blue glow. As the individual flames whipped and undulated, she had a clear view of blackness outside her window; she craned her neck and looked down.
Tinted a dull yellow, a thin stretch of highway was visible, and beyond it, the twinkling lights of a town.
Oh, my God, I’m flying, she thought, throwing herself away from the window. She whimpered and stared out the front window, then the other side. Without realizing what she was doing, she raised her feet off the floor.
Huddling behind the wheel, she murmured a protection spell. The car dipped, and she shrieked. Then it righted itself and kept going.
As the flames separated, she saw again the pinpoint lights of the town through the driver’s side window. The car was gliding away from them, and toward the vast expanses of the uninhabited desert.
What if it drops me? What if I land in the desert and the car gets swept down an arroyo, and I drown?
“Goddess, help me,” she murmured, clenching her hands as one did in Christian prayer. She felt no reply, no comfort. She never had. She wasn’t certain there was a Goddess. She didn’t know who made the Coven’s spells work. Or who answered the summons of the Deveraux. She had begun her exploration of magic as a folklorist, and she was aware that, despite popular assumption, the religious varieties of Wicca, paganism, shamanism, and other magic-using traditions employed slightly different interpretations of their supreme deities. One witch’s Goddess was not necessarily the same as another’s.
On impulse she reached forward and turned on the radio. The noise of the heavy rains had made it nearly impossible to listen to the faint signals she had managed to pick up.
There was nothing, not even static.
She pushed the horn. It, too, was dead.
“Help!” she shouted. “I’m sorry!”
And she was sorry. She felt a flood of guilt and remorse, although for what, precisely, she wa
sn’t certain. But she knew deep in her soul that leaving the coven and trying to find Michael Deveraux had been wrong, no matter what her reasoning had been.
No matter what lies I told myself. And now I’m going to pay. Now he’s found me and he’s going to kill me, because that’s what he is, an evil killer, and … and … what the hell was I thinking?
Batted by the rain, the car glided along. Kari began to cry—huge, heavy sobs that forced her stomach to contract. Bile rushed up into the back of her throat, making it burn; when she tried to swallow it down, she found she couldn’t. She sat with her teeth clenched, crying harder and harder, until she was wailing like a crazy person.
Next she heard herself reciting the Lord’s Prayer by rote, without a thought as to the words and what they meant. It was simply a reflex from childhood, and although once she realized what she was doing she listened carefully to the words, she found no comfort.
All the gods and Goddesses have left me, she thought bitterly. These are demons I have to face alone.
Literally.
She had no idea how long she floated along, buoyed by the magical glow, but she gradually grew exhausted from all the crying, and her head began to bob forward. Fuzzy images drifted across her closed eyelids—happier times with Jer, holding hands and smiling at each other; getting slick and dizzy in the sweat lodge. Kialish and Eddie were there, and now they were both dead… .
Oh, God! I’m so tired of all the dying! I’m so scared!
Then she heard the screech of birds and opened her eyes. She caught her breath and swallowed hard, balling her hands into fists in her lap, then gripping the steering wheel—as if doing so made any sense at all.
Surrounding the car, their bodies sheened with moonlight, dozens of falcons flew on either side of the car. One ticked its head in her direction; its eyes glowed bloodred, and it opened and shut its beak like an automaton. She shrank back, blinking at it. It continued to stare at her, then shut its beak and straightened its head.
