by Nancy Holder
Wind, she realized, Alex is keeping them at bay, somehow.
As they raced through the seemingly endless tunnels, her thoughts flew ahead to where Nicole was. She could feel her pain; it rippled in waves off her, and her screams bounced off walls and ceiling and floors. Nicole is strong, but none of us knows what to expect.
Then, suddenly, they were at the exit and they all burst up onto the street outside and into the fresh air. Alex slammed the door behind him, muttering a spell to bar the way.
Holly stood, gasping in the clean, crisp air and listening to the labored breathing of the others. The stench of death and decay still hung about her clothes and being, and she worried that all the showers in the world would not change that.
A cloud moved in the sky, and directly above them the full moon burst into sight, shining down upon them. Wind Moon and most of us are still here, praise the Goddess.
Back in the safe house, Holly felt as if an age had passed since they had left. Nicole lay in a bedroom upstairs, in the final stages of labor. Armand was tending her and had chased all the rest but Richard out with a worried look on her face.
I can’t believe that it is over, Holly thought. Michael Deveraux is finally dead. I am free of him—we all are. It is done. I feel strangely robbed that he did not die by my hand, but relieved as well.
“It is not over,” Alex announced, standing and facing the group. “Michael Deveraux and the Supreme Coven were just the barest tip of the iceberg. There are thousands of covens, on this world and others, and not all of them worship as we do. For every Michael Deveraux who falls, there are a dozen who stand ready to take his place.”
And Sir William escaped, Holly thought.
“Indeed he did,” Alex said, gazing at her. Then he said to the others, “I belong to the Temple of the Air. My coven and I have spent years fighting those who use the dark magic.”
“You mean, tonight, this was not new to you?” Amanda asked.
“Hardly,” he said, his face inscrutable. “I and others of the House of Cahors have fought many battles in the name of good and light.”
“Other Cahors?” Holly asked, astonished. “But we—”
He nodded. “We four here are not the only descendants of House Cahors. There are many, many more, and we are all fighting to bring the covens together, to lead Coventry into a new era of peace.”
“You didn’t tell Luna any of this,” Amanda accused him. “You let her think you were ignorant of your heritage.”
“Yes, I did,” he said. “The Mother Coven is weak. I have no use for them.”
“I have a lot of experience with people who want ‘to lead Coventry,’ none of it good,” Jer flung at him.
“Your experience all comes from the dark side of magic,” Alex retorted, and it was clear that no love had been gained between the two of them. “Join us and help bring light. You can atone for your family’s evil.”
“I don’t think so,” Jer said. “Not that way.”
“The Supreme Coven and the Mother Coven are both just two covens in a much larger world. The time for age-old battles is past. Covens need not fight each other. Houses need not fight each other,” Alex said pointedly. “Not even yours and mine,” he added, looking straight at Jer.
“I’m tired of fighting,” Holly said quietly. “But I can’t allow others like Michael Deveraux to roam free, killing all those in their path.”
“You would be welcome in our coven, Holly,” Alex said, pinning her with his gaze. “You have lost so much in this battle, and you have become so hard. You don’t need to stay that way, though. We can help you. We can restore your faith.”
Suddenly there were tears streaming down Holly’s face. She was hard inside; her heart was a piece of flint. And yet … tears. They were magical, a miracle. “Is such a thing even possible?” she found herself asking.
Alex came and sat beside her. He picked up her hand and stared into her eyes, and she felt his heat, and his strength. His power.
“It is possible, Holly. We can help you, and you in turn can help us. You could be my High Priestess, and I will be your Long Arm of the Law. Together, we could lead with strength and mercy. Imagine what we could accomplish together.”
And as he said that, she knew what he meant by the last word. Together. She broke his gaze and turned to Jer.
He locked gazes with her and for a moment, one single instant, she saw … something. And then it was gone—extinguished or hidden, she couldn’t say which.
Jer shook his head bitterly.
And Holly’s heart hardened again.
Alex was still holding her hand. Warmth suffused her skin, and where the heat traveled, feeling returned to her. Alex was offering her something that Jer couldn’t—or, more accurately, wouldn’t.
Alex released his hand and stood. Holly could feel the weight of Amanda’s stare on her, but she wasn’t quite yet ready to meet her cousin’s eyes.
When Amanda spoke, though, it was directed at the group at large. “We’ve done our bit for Coventry; we’ve fought our battle. Tommy and I need time to rest, to just be together. And I’ll be honest, I don’t know if we’ll ever be ready to go back to fighting again.”
Holly risked a glance at her. Amanda sat, arm entwined with Tommy, who was nodding agreement. They are so close, so in love. What would it be like to have the kind of bond that they do? She glanced again at Jer. If I wait for him, I may never know.
“I understand,” Alex said. “Nicole should also stay behind. She has a baby to raise—a very special baby, unless I miss my guess.”
Holly cocked her head to the side, wondering what he meant by that. He didn’t elaborate, and she knew that now was not the time to press him.
Philippe cleared his throat. “The survivors of the Spanish Coven wish to join yours.”
“But your heart is torn,” Alex answered.
Philippe nodded. “I wish to fight with you as well, but I must be with Nicole.”
“Then you have a choice to make, for you cannot do both,” Alex said.
“I’m going out,” Jer announced abruptly, grabbing a coat and heading for the door.
Holly watched him go with an aching in her heart.
Everyone was silent for a moment. Holly heard her heart beating; it was a sound so foreign that she wondered if it had actually stopped for a while... ever since she had sacrificed Nicole’s first familiar, Bast …
“So, Holly of the Cahors, what will you do?” Alex asked her.
She looked at him and felt a blush mounting her cheeks. She loved Jer, but he was damaged. He had worshiped the darkness for so long that his soul was more deeply scarred than his body.
Then again, so is mine.
She looked at Alex. His straightforwardness was refreshing, and he was offering her a chance for healing, a relationship with one who worshiped as she did and a place in the battle against evil.
His face shone with an unnatural beauty, and she knew that it would be easy to say “yes” and go with him. She was tired of fighting losing battles, and it felt good to know she could be on the winning side. She glanced at Pablo and Armand. She trusted them both, and they were going with Alex. I won’t have to be alone. She looked in Alex’s eyes and realized she would never be alone again.
He extended his hand to her.
EPILOGUE
Anne-Louise Montrachet had been gone a long time, her body still, but her spirit seeking the answers to so many questions. Whisper, the cat, walked slowly around her, careful not to tread a paw on her. The woman should be coming back soon, with answers to old questions and more new questions than she would be able to count.
At last Whisper walked gingerly up onto Anne-Louise’s chest. Slowly, the cat sat down, an Egyptian Goddess waiting for her tribute.
Then, with a gasp, Anne-Louise awoke, eyes flying open, body twitching. Blood began to appear oozing from wounds that seemed to spring up in the witch’s flesh as if by magic.
Anne-Louise looked wildly around for
a moment before bringing her eyes to bear on Whisper. “You?” she asked.
The cat dipped its head in acknowledgment.
“We must get to the others, warn them,” Anne-Louise gasped. “We need to tell them that’s not Alex Carruthers
Nancy Holder has received four Bram Stoker awards for her supernatural fiction. She has served on the board of trustees for the Horror Writers Association. Her work has been translated into over two dozen languages, and she has more than seventy-eight books and two hundred short stories to her credit. Her books for Simon Pulse include the Wicked series and the novel Rose Bride. She lives in San Diego with her daughter, Belle, and far too many animals. Visit Nancy online at nancyholder.com.
Debbie Viguié is the author of several Simon Pulse books, including the Wicked series, Midnight Pearls, and Scarlet Moon. Debbie has been writing for most of her life and holds a degree in creative writing from U.C. Davis. When Debbie is not busy writing she enjoys traveling with her husband, Scott. They currently live in Hawaii. Visit Debbie online at debbieviguie.com.
