Legacy & Spellbound

by Nancy Holder

  She followed his line of sight, and her blood ran cold.

  Painted onto the ceiling was an enormous black falcon, its wings stretching into the dark recesses of the room. In its massive, wicked-looking beak it clutched a human heart, and from that heart, blood dripped onto the breast of the huge creature itself. Its eyes— enormous, even for a creature its size—glared down at her, seeming to follow her.

  “Fantasme, the spirit of the Great Falcon.” Michael made a motion with his hand. “He lives in the spiritual Greenwood, and there he hunts Pandion.”

  Kari heard again the thrumming of the drums of the Great Hunt, a counterpoint to the quicktime wing-beats of the birds that had flown beside her car. She was incredibly dizzy; the room was spinning. She held on to the arms of the chair and began to gasp. Her lids fluttered, and she heard herself moan.

  The evil bird lifted its head and screeched. The cry was ear-piercing, shaking her brain inside her skull. The heart in its mouth dropped from the painting, erupting into the real world, and tumbled in a slow-motion float toward Kari.

  She lurched to her feet, knocking over the chair, then whirled on her heel and raced awkwardly for the doorway. Michael’s laughter trailed behind her.

  At the doorway, a wraithlike figure stepped from the darkened hall and blocked her escape. Shorter than she, it was wrapped in a glowing blue gauze, which it slowly lifted as its maniacal laughter trilled from beneath the layers, like the echo of the bird.

  Seeing who it was, Kari gasped. Her knees buckled, and she fell hard against the stone floor.

  “Bonsoir, ma belle,” said the figure.

  It was Holly, her eyes spinning with madness.

  But inside those eyes, cloaked more deeply, were another set of eyes, and they glared at Kari with fury.

  Get me out of here! they demanded. Maintenant!

  >“Isabeau,” Kari whispered. “Isabeau, are you trying to communicate with me?”

  Holly herself made no response. Kari wasn’t sure she had even heard her. But the eyes said, Oui! Get me out! He will destroy us all!

  Behind Kari, Michael Deveraux said, “Put her somewhere safe, Holly. We’ll make good use of her later.”

  Holly’s face cracked into a mad, bewitched smile.

  The Tri-Coven: Santa Cruz

  The others drew around the fire as Alex stood with his hands spread for warmth. The dual scents of smoke and wood reminded Jer of the old sweat lodge on the University of Washington campus—the one he, Kialish, and Eddie had built together. Of the three of them, he was the only survivor.

  And God only knows where Kari’s gone off to… .

  “It’s nearly Wind Moon,” Alex said, looking up at the pearly orb in the sky. He looked across the fire at Jer, who wore his hooded robe low over his face. Now that Holly was gone, he saved his magickal reserve for things other than creating a glamour of his former appearance. Still, it bothered him when the others glimpsed his features, then grimaced and looked away. He knew they didn’t even realize they were doing it, and that Amanda, especially, would be mortified to know how much her revulsion wounded him.

  But it’s not about me now. It’s about all of us surviving long enough to defeat my father.

  Alex looked at Jer and said, “You know what that means, right, Deveraux?”

  Aware that Alex continued to use Jer’s hated last name even though he had asked him repeatedly not to, Jer nodded grimly. The Wind Moon would be ascendant when his father struck hardest. When Michael Deveraux tried to bring Hell to Earth.

  He stared into the fire as if he could will it sky-ward. Witches spoke of drawing down the moon; if only they could, so he could set it ablaze and throw it back up into space and watch it burn. Then Wind Moon would never come.

  The ensuing silence made the others nervous. Jer could feel the tension in the air. He took a sip of his coffee and found it bitter. But to him, all of life was bitter.

  I’m staying alive to bring him down. And then …

  Amanda frowned and drew closer to Philippe, saying to him, “What? What does Wind Moon mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Philippe replied, shrugging. He gazed first at Alex, and then at Jer.

  Jer looked up at him. Amanda flinched, but Philippe did not.

  “It’s the Horned God’s moon. Any witch or war-lock who dies during the next full moon becomes the damned servant of the God for all eternity.”

  “Well put,” Alex said. “Accurate.”

  “Dios mio,” Pablo murmured, crossing himself.

  “Why didn’t you two bring this up before now?” Armand demanded, looking angry. “We have hardly any time to prepare.”

  “I wasn’t sure,” Alex said. “I threw the runes.”

  The others turned to Jer. “Not every Wind Moon is charged with the same energy. But Alex is right about this one: This is a bad moon.”

  Amanda sighed heavily. “It never ends,” she murmured. “It just gets worse and worse.”

  Pablo said to Jer, “What do we have to do?”

  Before Jer had a chance to reply, Alex cut in and said, “We should kill a warlock to get his power, just like Michael Deveraux is planning to do.”

  He stared straight at Jer … who gazed steadily back.

  “A witch serves the same purpose,” Jer replied.

  The two glared at each other.

  One of us is going to die on Wind Moon, Jer thought. And it sure as hell isn’t going to be me.

  “That’s enough,” Richard snapped. “The two of you, back off, now,” he said. He stepped between them, giving them both the benefit of his eyes, which were threatening.

  Alex dropped his gaze, but Jer could still feel his threat lingering in the air, a promise for him alone. For his part, Jer unclenched his fists and turned his attention to Richard. He owed Holly’s uncle his life, and it was a debt he would not soon forget. Alex might have come along and beat down the Black Fire, but Richard had been the one to free Jer from the rock, and Jer secretly believed that they would have escaped without Alex’s help. In fact, the fire didn’t even appear again until after he entered the Dreamtime.

  He had no proof, though, and if Alex could help them defeat his father, then he would be grateful for the assistance. My father … I wonder where he is, what he’s up to. Jer clenched his fists again reflexively. It’s like I can feel him, his presence. He’s coming for us, and we’re not ready. We need some intel, and we’re not going to get it sitting around here. I could find him, though, discover what he’s up to... see if he knows what happened to Holly… .

  He waited for the others to sleep. He rose from his bed, slipped on his shoes, and snuck quietly outside. As he passed Pablo, the young man twitched, a frown clouding his features. He held his breath, but the young witch didn’t waken.

  He eased the door open and made it outside, closing it behind him. He took three steps away and let out the breath he had been holding. Something moved in the corner of his eye and, he jumped, startled.

  Richard was standing there, his gaze almost kind. Jer didn’t know what to say. He had thought the older man asleep in the cabin with the others.

  “I know where you’re going and I just wanted to wish you good luck.”

  “Thank you,” Jer said.

  Richard clapped his hand on his shoulder. “Be careful. If you find Holly or Kari, get them out if you can.”

  “I will.”

  “We won’t be here when you get back, I hope you understand. If you need us, though, try to call to Pablo. That boy’s got incredible abilities.”

  Jer nodded. He knew the Mother Coven safe house was somewhere close by, but he didn’t know where, and he wouldn’t be likely to find it. After a moment, Richard reached out and hugged him. Surprised, Jer hugged him back. Tears stung the back of his eyes. “Take care, son,” Richard whispered.

  They broke contact, and Richard smiled before stepping back and disappearing into the darkness.

  * * *

  The day dawned clear and cool. Amanda
stood with the two men she cared most about: her father and Tommy.

  “It is good that he left,” Tommy said. “It was not working with both of them here.” He wrinkled his nose. “Testosterone poisoning for both of them.”

  Her father chuckled as he nodded agreement, but Amanda still felt bereft. It wasn’t bad enough that so many had died or been kidnapped; people were now leaving willingly. Strange as it sounded, Jer had been her last solid link to Holly.

  “Time to go,” Amanda said as she saw Luna walking toward them. Her voice was raw from fighting to hold back tears for so long.

  Within minutes they were all piled back into cars, Luna driving the lead car and Richard driving the other. Sooner than she would have thought, they were pulling up to a large house on a hill. Standing outside, her arms crossed and a large gray cat wrapping itself around her ankles, was Anne-Louise Montrachet.

  Amanda got out of the car with a feeling of relief upon seeing a familiar face. She walked up to Anne-Louise and, almost without thinking, hugged the other woman. Amanda could sense her surprise as she returned the embrace.

  “You are safe here,” Anne-Louise whispered.

  Amanda began to sob, unable to contain it any longer. “I haven’t felt safe in so long.”

  “I know, I know.”

  Amanda felt rather than heard someone walk up behind her, and when he placed a hand on her shoulder, she knew it was Tommy. Anne-Louise pulled back, and Amanda turned, collapsing into Tommy’s arms.

  She heard Anne-Louise address the others in a strong, clear voice, “Welcome, all of you. We offer safe refuge and a place to heal. Blessed be.”

  “Blessed be,” the others chorused.

  “Blessed be,” Amanda whispered against Tommy’s shoulder.

  EIGHT

  EPONA

  Cahors fall into our hands

  Victims of Deveraux plans

  We do with them what we will

  Savor it now as we kill

  Goddess deliver us we pray

  Help us live beyond this day

  Twist our hearts away from pain

  Keep us now safe and sane

  Eli: Avalon

  Despite the fact that he had had an easy time sneaking into the dungeon where Nicole had been imprisoned, Eli wasn’t happy.

  It’s been too easy, he told himself as he snuck along, slipping on the wet stone floor. He had exchanged his usual ’kickers for a pair of soft-soled high-tops, and they were getting soggy. His feet were icy. It’s got to be a trap.

  The back of his cloak—and beneath that, his black leather jacket—were both soaked with foul moisture from the dripping, moldy wall. The castle was said to predate Arthur’s Merlin, and the ancient Druid wizard was also said to inhabit it to this day. The mere thought made Eli’s chest tighten with fear. If Merlin was helping Sir William, he, Eli, could be a pile of ashes by the time this day was over.

  Or a warty old toad, like Laurent …

  He meant it as a joke, but he shivered nonetheless. He was terrified, and that was not something a Deveraux warlock should ever admit to, not even to himself. Too much had happened to shake his faith in his family’s power. It had been said that Deveraux magic was the strongest there was, at least on the side of the shadows, and that the Moores had usurped Eli’s family’s rightful place as the head of the Supreme Coven. After all, no other House could conjure the prize of the Black Fire … and many had tried.

  This dungeon is nothing to me. It’s for sure no threat to somebody as powerful as me.

  But now, slinking along in the dark, smelling the stench of death and filth, hearing distant shrieks of agony as torturers practiced their art on various enemies of Sir William, Eli wished himself away. He wouldn’t do that; even if the new wards on the island would have allowed it, he couldn’t go through with that impulse—wouldn’t transport himself—but the temptation to do so rose inside him like a hunger.

  Nicole doesn’t even like me anymore. Why should I bother saving her?

  Because she’s valuable, he told himself, frowning at his own wimpiness. She’s a Cahors descendant, and she and her sister and Holly make an unbeatable triumvirate. And besides, James took her from me.

  No man, warlock, or mere ungifted human takes what’s mine.

  With a seething grimace of jealousy, he continued on, mincing his way down the narrow tunnel that his finder’s spell had led him to. Using his left hand to shield the light from potential onlookers, he examined the iridescent green glow in the center of his palm. The glow, in the tiny image of a Deveraux falcon, had “flown” slightly forward toward his middle finger, which indicated he should continue moving directly forward. There was always the chance that someone had managed to tamper with it, and was using it to misdirect him. He could unknowingly be walking straight into a trap.

  But his magical compass appeared to be clean, and the tiny falcon was an image only a Deveraux could conjure.

  There were other Deveraux alive in the world.

  Jer’s stuck in the Dreamtime, he thought, and he’s probably dead by now. I don’t think Dad would go through all this to work some scheme he hasn’t shared.

  But it’s been too easy, he told himself again.

  He tugged at his cloak of invisibility, slung over the black leather jacket. He had placed dozens of wards and amulets all over his body, but he had expected at least a few obstacles—a threshold guardian or two, perhaps an invisible demon force that detected the presence of an intruder. But thus far, sneaking around the cliffs above the shoreline, then snaking his way through a field of heather to the cavelike entrance of the dungeon, had proven to be uneventful. Even boring.

  Then a silhouette rose against the dark wall— blackness on black—and Eli knew he had relaxed his guard too soon.

  The shape was that of a round, bulbous creature with an ax slung over its shoulder. Its head was disproportionately large, giving it an almost apelike appearance.

  It was a Golem, a creature fashioned of mud, whose mind was not its own. It would obey the commands of its creator; it could not be reasoned with or turned from its path. And they were very difficult to kill. Not impossible, but if Eli could accomplish it, he would have to make a lot of noise.

  Eli turned his head, expecting to see the Golem standing on the other side of the tunnel. But nothing was there. Alarm prickled up his spine, bone-cold fingers skittering up the center of his back. Golems were very solid creatures. They could not cast apparition silhouettes, like ghosts or wraiths.

  Damn it. Where the hell is it?

  He closed his fist over his scrying stone to hide the glow and melted into the shadows himself. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to breathe as quietly as he could while he studied the shape. What he was seeing made no sense, unless some form of magic he was unfamiliar with was being employed.

  Then, as he stared, the silhouette disappeared.

  He blinked. Then he understood: The shadow had not been projected across the tunnel; rather, he had seen through the wall. One of his wards must have empowered that ability.

  The Golem shambled along on the other side.

  It’s been sent after Nicole.

  Then all I have to do to find her, is follow it.

  He murmured spells, trying to remember which amulets he had put where—he’d been in a hurry—and finally clasped his hand around the sun disc that hung from a leather band around his neck. Its warmth told him he had picked the correct token. He murmured a spell of seeing, and sure enough, the wall thinned again. Again, he saw the Golem, lurching implacably along, a stone-mud monster as relentless as the Terminator.

  He trailed slightly behind it on his side of the wall. The thing stumbled, stopped, and then began to recede from Eli’s line of sight.

  It’s turning to the right, he realized.

  He hesitated for a moment, then waved his hands and whispered words that melted the wall. He hoped that, with its back turned, the Golem would be heedless; but there was always the possibility that other beings in
the same tunnel—if there were any— would notice what Eli was doing.

  Soon, a hole big enough to crawl through materialized at waist height; Eli bent down and climbed through, his fist still tight around the scrying stone. He had not forgotten that his purpose was rescuing Nicole, and he knew that he might have to wait for the proper moment to battle the Golem. Where there was one Golem there could easily be another. And another.

  As soon as he got through the hole, he trailed the massive stone construct. He was still on alert for guards, and still baffled that none advanced on him.

  Then all hell broke loose, and he realized he’d been right: It was a trap.

  As the Golem whirled around and began swinging its ax at him, what had looked to be crumbling pieces of the stone had now detached from the walls and flung themselves at him. They were misshapen creatures made up of gelatinous bodies and long, taloned arms. They slashed at him as they catapulted themselves toward him.

  Skilled warlock that he was, he immediately protected himself with a spherical barrier, aiming fireballs at the projectiles and deflecting the swinging ax of the Golem. He was aware of a blur of larger shapes racing around the sphere; and when he had a moment to look at them, he almost lost his rhythm: Three more Golems had joined the first. One had an ax, one a mace, and one a net of chain mail, such as Roman gladiators had once used. All of them were battering at the sphere; and he realized his only chance to survive would be to keep the sphere intact. That was made more difficult by the fireballs he was lobbing at the enemy.

  More of the wall-creatures pushed off from the walls and slammed against the sphere, flattening and collapsing into heaps of gelatinous goo as they slid down the sides of the sphere to the floor. There were perhaps a dozen of them now. The four Golems continued to hack and batter the sphere, and its integrity began to give way. It wobbled and began to crack.

  Then the Golem with the mace raised the weapon high over its head. The spiked ball of metal crashed down with a bone-jarring impact, and the force of the blow sheered off the topmost section of the sphere. Eli was now trapped inside like an animal in a burrow.

  An animal … he thought, as he dropped to his knees. An animal.