Legacy & Spellbound

by Nancy Holder

  “Jer?”

  He looked up. It was Holly. She seemed different to him—older, quieter. I would be, too, if I’d gone through what she has.

  She came and sat beside him, the springs of the bed creaking ever so slightly. In the darkness she couldn’t see his scars, and he was grateful for that. She touched his hand, and he flinched.

  “Jer, I want to be close to you. Don’t shut me out.”

  “You deserve someone who is whole,” he whispered.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she answered, her voice cracking slightly.

  “We both know that’s not true, Holly.”

  She laced her fingers through his, and he thrilled at her touch. “I need you.”

  “You need someone who can take care of you, someone you don’t have to hide in the dark with.”

  “Your face is not our problem,” she answered, her voice gaining strength. “Your fear is. I’ve seen horrors I can’t even express. You think a few scars bother me, especially when they’re yours?”

  “You don’t know what you want,” he said bitterly. “You and I, if we begin something, it’s going to be forever. ‘Till death us do part,’ even if we’re the cause of that death. You’re not ready for that. You’re a child.”

  “I’m not a child,” she said, her voice rising. “I’m a woman, but you’ve been too wrapped up in your own self-pity to notice.”

  He turned toward her. He could see her eyes gleaming in the dark, large and round like a cat’s. He ached for her. He wanted to take her in his arms and never let go. He had dreamed of it for so long… .

  She lifted her hand to touch his cheek, and he jerked back.

  “Don’t pull away from me. I’m not afraid of you, of us.”

  “I am,” he whispered.

  “Don’t be.”

  And then her lips were on his, hungry, demanding, and he could not deny her. He kissed her with all the passion that was in his heart, his soul. He felt her hands plucking at his shirt, unbuttoning it, and then her warm hands moved against his chest.

  With a groan, he closed his eyes. It would be so easy to make love to her, we have both wanted it for so very long.

  Yes, oui, take her, he heard Jean whisper in his mind. She is ours, and we will have her.

  “Mon amour,” whispered Holly—or was it Isabeau? “You are the fire that burns me,” he answered, his lips against hers.

  “And you, me.”

  Holly stared into Jer’s eyes and could see the passion within. His face swam in her sight as Isabeau began to take her over, even as Jean was claiming Jer. She felt everything that Isabeau had felt as she had lain in the marriage bed with Jean: the passion of a lover, the duty of a bride, the fear of a virgin. Holly knew all these because the same emotions coursed through her, the same feelings held sway in her heart and mind.

  Our lord, our husband, we must be with him, Isabeau demanded, her words ringing clear in Holly’s mind.

  “I love you, Jer,” Holly whispered, gazing at him through lowered lids.

  He paused for a moment, staring into her eyes, and all the world around them seemed to stand still. “I love you, Holly,” he answered in a voice so savage, it made her quake.

  His hands were on her shoulders; she could feel the weight of them, and their heat burned through her shirt. He slowly slid his hands downward to the front of her shirt. Her back arched uncontrollably, pushing her harder against his hands. She could hear his breathing heavier now, and his breath warmed her neck.

  “My husband, mon homme, mon amour,” she whispered.

  With a groan, he tore her shirt open and pulled it off her. She gasped as he trailed kisses down her neck and to the tops of her breasts. A fire kindled in her belly, and all she wanted was to be his. Bodies moving, flesh entwining, as it has been it always shall and must be. He circled his arms around her and crushed her to him.

  And then he pushed her away again with hands that shook. “No,” he said, voice hoarse.

  She felt as though ice water had been poured into her veins. She tried to lift her hands to touch his face, but he grabbed them and held them still.

  “This is Jean and Isabeau, not us, Holly.”

  “It is us,” she breathed. “It always has been. They can only play upon the emotions we already feel. We belong together.”

  “I can’t pull you into my world of darkness. You deserve to live your life in the light.”

  “I want to live my life with you.”

  “No, we have to stop, even if that means I have to be strong for both of us. We need to stop before there’s no turning back.”

  She stood abruptly, pain rolling off her. “You say that you are being strong, but you are weak. A strong man embraces his emotions, he doesn’t run away from them.”

  Jer sat helplessly watching as she clutched up her shirt and threw it back on, awkwardly holding together the ripped edges in front. His heart ached for her. He could feel her pain and humiliation as though they were his own.

  She started to leave, and he wanted to call her back but knew that he couldn’t. At the door she stopped and turned back toward him. Her voice was quivering as she told him, “Jeraud Deveraux, you are nothing but a coward.”

  And as she left, he knew that she was right.

  THIRTEEN

  DIANA

  And now at last our journey’s done

  We give praise to almighty Sun

  We kill and maim and claim our right

  To triumph using power and might

  Bleeding we lay in the dust

  Goddess protect us, you must

  With our last breath we pray to thee

  If you wish us dead, so mote it be

  Tri-Coven: London

  Wind Moon. It had come at last. Holly didn’t know whether to feel fear or relief. One way or the other, it would be over tonight. Everything would be done. She looked down at her hands, clasped tight in her lap. It still seemed so strange to see them, to know that she could control them. She breathed in deeply, centering herself. One thing she had learned from the possession, and that was the value of patience, and how to be still.

  She was still now, waiting and listening for the voice of the Goddess. Isabeau sat beside her, impatient but quiet. At last, Holly turned to her. “If he doesn’t want me, then there’s nothing I can do.”

  “But he does want you, you can feel it, you know it as well as I.”

  “Maybe I do,” Holly answered. “But he is going to have to come to me.”

  Isabeau made a hissing sound but said nothing.

  Holly sat for a few more minutes, gathering strength, focusing her thoughts and calming her heart. At last she rose to her feet. She was wearing a black turtleneck and loose-fitting black trousers. She had removed all her jewelry and braided her hair back, entwining it with silver and black thread.

  All the others were similarly dressed. She took her place in the circle they had formed in the living room of the safe house. She looked at their faces and was stirred by sorrow. Not everyone is going to survive tonight. Maybe none of us will.

  Armand met her eyes and nodded encouragingly. He had been very kind to her the last couple of days. He alone of the group truly understood what she had gone through.

  Nicole smiled bravely, but Holly’s eyes were fixed on her cousin’s belly. She shouldn’t be fighting . The cat Astarte sat on her lap. The cat had found Nicole before she and the rescue party had left the island. The cat gazed at Holly as though she knew exactly what was happening and the nature of that which they were about to undertake. Philippe sat next to Nicole, one hand protectively on her stomach and the other stroking the cat. He’ll die before he lets anything happen to Nicole.

  Amanda and Tommy huddled together, arms entwined and legs touching. The magic they did opened the portal that Sasha disappeared through. Their magic alone, though, couldn’t have done it. They must have combined it with someone else’s inadvertently. It wasn’t mine, so that could only leave …

 
Alex. He sat there staring levelly at her. We know so little about him, but he’s a Cahors, and he’s helped us so much already. The extent of his abilities is unknown to us, though, perhaps also unknown even to him.

  Next to Alex sat Jer. She could feel the hostility flowing through them both. Something has passed between them that the others haven’t told me about. Goddess, let them put it aside for the battle.

  Pablo stared at her, clearly reading every thought she was having. Since she had come back she had noticed that he had given up every pretense of not reading people. We may need your insights yet, she told him. He nodded.

  Barbara sat looking nervously at the rest. Of us all, she doesn’t belong here, and I don’t know what help she can be. It’s likely we sacrificed so much to rescue her, and she will be killed tonight, anyway. The others have worked hard with her, repairing her mind, teaching her some protection skills. Goddess, let it be enough.

  That left Richard. He sat, dressed all in black, but with black markings on his face. They made him look like some sort of devil. He had cut his hair to within a half inch of his head as well, military style. Of all of them, he had surprised her the most. Everyone had written him off so long ago, and that had been a mistake. His particular skills were going to prove especially useful now. Her uncle had spent the last forty-eight hours discussing the layout and security of the Supreme Coven with Jer.

  The two had formed a plan that was brilliant and daring and, Goddess willing, that just might work. Richard sat quietly, and it was clear that he, too, was preparing himself mentally. Around him lay a small arsenal. She hadn’t asked where he had gotten the weapons; she didn’t want to know.

  Just as Jer and Richard had worked on a plan of attack, Alex, Tommy, and Philippe had worked on enhancing the weapons magickally. That should surprise Sir William, she thought. I wonder if anyone has thought before to combine technology and magic in the way that we have?

  Her army waited. It was a good army, one that had stayed loyal despite all the hell she had put it through. Many had been lost, but those who remained were undaunted by that. They were ready to fight, and to die, for what they knew was right.

  “Tell me again about the weapons,” Holly said quietly.

  Philippe let go of Nicole and Astarte and picked up a bullet. “These are depleted uranium bullets. As I understand it, they are incredibly deadly on their own. One bullet can rip through a tank, turn into shrapnel, and shred anything inside so that it is unrecognizable.”

  “That’s correct,” Richard said.

  “What we’ve done is, tried to put a charm on each bullet so that it can also punch its way through a magic ward. Most wards are designed to block much larger things—a creature, a melee weapon, or other magic. We figured that something this small, if enhanced slightly, might be able to make it through the barrier.”

  “Excellent,” Holly said, impressed.

  Philippe put down the bullet and picked up something that vaguely resembled a grenade. “This is a concussion grenade. Instead of spraying shrapnel, it compresses sound waves and air.”

  “It’s like when you have the bass on the TV set really high and you can feel it more than hear it.”

  “Like when the sound vibrates your breastbone?” Holly asked.

  Philippe nodded. “These should cause a ripple effect that can theoretically tear through wards as well.”

  Philippe put down the grenade and held up a knife and a baton like police used. “We only have a couple of these. Barbara’s going to show us all some of the most effective places to strike to cause damage or death.”

  Barbara? Holly’s eyebrows shot up as she turned to look at the woman.

  Barbara stood up, her hands shaking slightly. “Well, who better than a doctor to teach all of you how to hit someone to cause the most damage? Tommy, will you help me out?”

  Tommy rose with alacrity, and the two positioned themselves in the center of the circle. “First off, some basic physiology,” Barbara said, her voice growing stronger. “As I understand it, most of the warlocks you’ll be fighting are men, so we’ll focus on gender-neutral techniques, and then some that will work specifically on men.

  “If you hit your opponent hard on the nose, it will cause him to lose his vision for a couple of seconds. If you hit his nose really hard, it can drive blood and bits of bone into his eyes, further impairing his vision. If you can hit the nose at the bottom with the palm of your hand and push upward hard enough, the breaking bones will drive up into his brain and kill him.”

  Barbara slowly and gently mimicked the motion she was describing. Tommy looked distinctly uncomfortable. Holly glanced over at Amanda. Her cousin looked green, and for a moment Holly thought she was going to throw up.

  Apparently ignoring the reactions around her, Barbara continued. “If you take your hand like so,” she said, demonstrating, “and drive it upward just under the breastbone, you will crush his heart. Avoid actually punching your fingers into the chest cavity, because you could get your hand caught in there.”

  Amanda got up and fled from the room, her hand pressed over her mouth. In a moment the sound of retching could be heard coming from the bathroom. Even Holly was beginning to feel queasy, and the sound didn’t help.

  “Kick your opponent in the side of the knee to fell him instantly,” Barbara continued.

  “Now for some gender-specific points. Men have Adam’s apples. Strike the Adam’s apple, and he won’t be able to breathe for about thirty seconds. Strike it harder and you can dislodge or crush it, causing him to choke to death. Notice even the slightest pressure there is uncomfortable,” Barbara commented as she gently touched Tommy’s Adam’s apple with one finger and he instantly backed up.

  “Now, men and women stand differently. Women stand straighter, whereas men hunch their shoulders forward slightly. This makes a man’s collarbone more vulnerable. If you can strike it, you can break it, and it is one of the most excruciatingly painful bones to break. That is because of its proximity to the head and neck. The nerve centers in the collarbone link up with the head as well as the chest, so the pain will pretty much incapacitate most people.”

  Holly felt herself start to sweat slightly and she squirmed as she imagined the pain.

  “Now, this is especially important,” Barbara said, pausing to look at them all. “You all know that you can kick a man in the groin to cause him extreme pain. It’s more effective, though, if you actually grab the testicles and crush them.”

  An anguished shout rose from every man in the room, and Tommy leaped back, shouting, “Stay away from me!”

  Amanda, who had just made her way back into the room, went running again.

  Barbara sat down, her lecture done. It took a minute for everyone to calm down, and Holly noted that when they did, every man was sitting with his legs crossed.

  “There is one other thing,” Philippe said, still visibly shaken. He picked up a pair of ice picks. “Richard wants each of us to carry a pair of these with us. He’s going to show us what to do with them later.”

  Pablo’s face suddenly went deathly white, and he, too, went running from the room, his hands clamped over his ears.

  “Okay,” Holly said. “And now for the plan.”

  Headquarters of the Supreme Coven

  The plan was simple, and it involved marching into the Supreme Coven’s headquarters. Of course it helped that Michael wasn’t going alone. He was being smuggled in by James Moore. Between the two of them, they knew where all the trip alarms and wards were. With Duc Laurent and Kari in tow, they made their way into the heart of the underground kingdom as the last ray of the setting sun touched the earth above them. Sunset for Moore, how poetic.

  The alarm wasn’t raised until they were nearly to the throne room. Guards caught sight of Michael and shouted, there was the sound of footsteps as warlocks came running, and Michael smiled, knowing many of them were loyal to him.

  Then, from the darkness behind him, he heard a female voice purr, “Hel
lo, Michael, I’ve been waiting for you.”

  He threw himself to the side just as a lightning bolt ripped through the air where he had been standing. He glanced up to see a young female warlock standing, smiling wickedly.

  Eve.

  Tri-Coven: London

  Jer hated Alex. There was something about him that drove him crazy. Maybe it’s the fact that he threatened to kill me on Wind Moon, he thought dryly. Maybe it’s because he’s everything I’m not. He’s what I could have been had my father served the Goddess and not the Horned God. Whatever it is, I’m not going to let him out of my sight. Of course, that’s going to be difficult since I’m point and he’s bringing up the rear.

  Next to him, Richard lifted his hand in the air and Jer stopped, bringing his mind back to bear on the task at hand. They had already passed through the outer defenses that the Supreme Coven had placed on the streets of London surrounding the entrances to the Coven. They were thin wards that acted more like “magic detectors” than actual barriers. Richard had been able to pass through easily, having no witchblood in his veins. Jer had passed through easily, though not without notice. He was a warlock, though, so no alarms were raised.

  Through the fog, two men converged on them, warlocks both. They were sentries, guarding the entrance to the underground headquarters. Jer didn’t recognize them—a good thing, else they might have raised an alarm upon seeing him.

  “Hail the Green Man, guardian of the day,” Jer murmured as they stopped before them.

  “You have entered ground consecrated to the Horned God. Woe be to any who trespass here.”

  “I come as a fellow servant.”

  Satisfied, the two men turned, indicating that Jer and Richard should follow. Jer pulled his two ice picks from his belt and waited for Richard to nod. When the other man did, they both moved in tandem. Jer jabbed one ice pick into each ear of the man in front of him. The warlock died without a sound, without even a breath being expelled from his body. Holding on to the ice picks, Jer lowered him slowly to the ground so there was not even the thud of his falling to alert anyone. Beside him, Richard did the same. Then they stepped over the bodies and moved forward.