Huntress, Black Dawn, Witchlight

by L. J. Smith

  And what she saw…was herself. Herself through his eyes.

  She saw someone who wasn’t at all the frail blond princess type, not a bit languid and perfect and artificial. She saw a sturdy, rosy-brown girl with a straight gaze. A girl with autumn-colored hair, warm and vivid and real, and sorrel-colored eyes. It was the eyes that caught her attention: there was a clarity and honesty in them, a depth and spaciousness that made mere prettiness seem cheap.

  Maggie caught her breath. Do I look like that? she wondered dizzily. I can’t. I’d have noticed in the mirror.

  But it was how he saw her. In his eyes, she was the only vibrant, living thing in a cold world of black and white. And she could feel the connection between them tightening, drawing him toward her even as he tried to pull farther away.

  “No.” His voice was a bare whisper in the cave. “I’m not bound to you. I don’t love you.”

  “Delos—”

  “I don’t love anyone. I don’t have feelings.”

  Maggie shook her head wordlessly. She didn’t have to speak, anyway. All the time he was telling her how much he didn’t love her, he was moving closer to her, fighting it every inch.

  “You mean nothing to me,” he raged through clenched teeth. “Nothing!”

  And then his face was inches away from hers, and she could see the flame burning in his golden eyes.

  “Nothing,” he whispered, and then his lips touched hers.

  CHAPTER 10

  But at the instant that would have made it a kiss, Delos pulled away. Maggie felt the brush of his warm lips and then cold air as he jerked back.

  “No,” he said. “No.” She could see the clash of fear and anger in his eyes, and she could see it suddenly resolve itself as the pain grew unbearable. He shuddered once, and then all the turmoil vanished, as if it were being swept aside by a giant hand. It left only icy determination in its wake.

  “That’s not going to help,” Maggie said. “I don’t even understand why you want to be this way, but you can’t just squash everything down—”

  “Listen,” he said in a clipped, taut voice. “You said that in your dream I told you to go away. Well, I’m telling you the same thing now. Go away and don’t ever come back. I never want to see your face again.”

  “Oh, fine.” Maggie was trembling herself with frustration. She’d had it; she’d finally reached the limit of her patience with him. There was so much bitterness in his face, so much pain, but it was clear he wasn’t going to let anyone help.

  “I mean it. And you don’t know how much of a concession it is. I’m letting you go. You’re not just an escaped slave, you’re an escaped slave who knows about the pass in the mountains. The penalty for that is death.”

  “So kill me,” Maggie said. It was a stupid thing to say and she knew it. He was dangerous—and the master of that blue fire. He could do it at the turn of an eyelash. But she was feeling stupid and reckless. Her fists were clenched.

  “I’m telling you to leave,” he said. “And I’ll tell you something else. You wanted to know what happened to your brother.”

  Maggie went still. There was something different about him suddenly. He looked like somebody about to strike a blow. His body was tense and his eyes were burning gold like twin flames.

  “Well, here it is,” he said. “Your brother is dead. I killed him.”

  It was a blow. Maggie felt as if she’d been hit. Shock spread through her body and left her tingling with adrenaline. At the same time she felt strangely weak, as if her legs didn’t want to hold her up any longer.

  But she didn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it, not just like that.

  She opened her mouth and dragged in a breath to speak—and froze.

  Somewhere outside the cave a voice was calling. Maggie couldn’t make out the words, but it was a girl’s voice. And it was close…and coming closer.

  Delos’s head whipped around to look at the entrance of the cave. Then, before Maggie could say anything, he was moving.

  He took one step to the wall and blew out the flame of the little stone lamp. Instantly, the cave was plunged into darkness. Maggie hadn’t realized how little light came from the entrance crack—almost none at all.

  No, she thought. Less light is coming through than before. It’s getting dark.

  Oh, God, she thought. Cady.

  I just walked off and left her there. What’s wrong with me? I forgot all about her—I didn’t even think….

  “Where are you going?” Delos whispered harshly.

  Maggie paused in mid rush and looked at him wildly. Or looked toward him, actually, because now she couldn’t see anything but darkness against paler darkness.

  “To Cady,” she said, distracted and frantic, clutching the water bag she’d grabbed. “I left her down there. Anything could have happened by now.”

  “You can’t go outside,” he said. “That’s the hunting party I came with. If they catch you I won’t be able to help—”

  “I don’t care!” Maggie’s words tumbled over his. “A minute ago you never wanted to see me again. Oh, God, I left her. How could I do that?”

  “It hasn’t been that long,” he hissed impatiently. “An hour or so.” Vaguely, Maggie realized that he must be right. It seemed like a hundred years since she had climbed up to his ledge, but actually everything had happened quickly after that.

  “I still have to go,” she said, a little more calmly. “She’s sick. And maybe Gavin came back.” A wave of fear surged through her at the thought.

  “If they catch you, you’ll wish you were dead,” he said distinctly. Before Maggie could answer, he was going on, his voice as brusque as ever. “Stay here. Don’t come out until everybody’s gone.”

  She felt the movement of air and the brush of cloth as he passed in front of her. The light from the entrance crack was cut off briefly, and then she saw him silhouetted for an instant against gray sky.

  Then she was alone.

  Maggie stood tensely for a moment, listening. The sound of her own breathing was too loud. She crept quietly to the entrance and crouched.

  And felt a jolt. She could hear footsteps crunching on the broken slate outside. Right outside. Then a shadow seemed to fall across the crack and she heard a voice.

  “Delos! What are you doing up here?”

  It was a light, pleasant voice, the voice of a girl only a little older than Maggie. Not a woman yet. And it was both concerned and casual, addressing Delos with a familiarity that was startling.

  But that wasn’t what gave her the big jolt. It was that she recognized the voice. She knew it and she hated it.

  It was Sylvia.

  She’s here, Maggie thought. And from the way she’s talking she’s been here before—enough to get to know Delos. Or maybe she was born here, and she’s just started coming Outside.

  Whatever the truth, it somehow made Maggie certain that Miles had been brought here, too. But then—what? What had happened to him after that? Had he done something that meant he had to disappear? Or had it been Sylvia’s plan from the beginning?

  Could Delos have really…?

  I don’t believe it, Maggie thought fiercely, but there was a pit of sick fear in her stomach.

  Outside, Sylvia was chatting on in a musical voice. “We didn’t even know you’d left the group—but then we saw the blue fire. We thought you might be in trouble—”

  “Me?” Delos laughed briefly.

  “Well—we thought there might be trouble,” Sylvia amended. Her own laugh was like wind chimes.

  “I’m fine. I used the fire for practice.”

  “Delos.” Sylvia’s voice was gently reproving now, in a way that was almost flirtatious. “You know you shouldn’t do that. You’ll only do more damage to your arm—it’s never going to get better if you keep using it.”

  “I know.” Delos’s brusque tone was a sharp contrast to Sylvia’s teasing. “But that’s my business.”

  “I only want what’s best for you—”r />
  “Let’s go. I’m sure the rest of the party is waiting for us.”

  He doesn’t like her, Maggie thought. All her whinnying and prancing doesn’t fool him. But I wonder what she is to him?

  What she really wanted at that moment was to dash out and confront Sylvia. Grab her and shake her until she coughed up some answers.

  But she’d already tried that once—and it had gotten her thrown into slavery. She gritted her teeth and edged closer to the entrance crack. It was dangerous and she knew it, but she wanted to see Sylvia.

  When she did, it was another shock. Sylvia always wore slinky tops and fashionable jeans, but the outfit she had on now was completely medieval. More, she looked comfortable in it, as if these strange clothes were natural to her—and flattering.

  She was wearing a sea-green tunic that had long sleeves and fell to the ground. Over that was another tunic, a shade paler, this one sleeveless and tied with a belt embroidered in green and silver. Her hair was loose in a fine shimmering mass, and she had a falcon on her wrist.

  A real falcon. With a little leather hood on its head and leather ties with bells on its feet. Maggie stared at it, fascinated despite herself.

  That whole fragile act Sylvia puts on, she thought. But you have to be strong to hold up a big bird like that.

  “Oh, we don’t have to rush back just yet,” Sylvia was saying, moving closer to Delos. “Now that I’m here, we could go a little farther. This looks like a nice path; we could explore it.”

  Cady, Maggie thought. If they go to the end of the path, they’ll see her. Sylvia will see her.

  She had just decided to jump out of the cave when Delos spoke.

  “I’m tired,” he said in his flat, cold way. “We’re going back now.”

  “Oh, you’re tired,” Sylvia said, and her smile was almost sly. “You see. I told you not to use your powers so much.”

  “Yes,” Delos said, even more shortly. “I remember.”

  Before he could say anything else, Sylvia went on. “I forgot to mention, a funny thing happened. A guy named Gavin dropped in on the hunting party a little while ago.”

  Gavin.

  Maggie’s stomach plummeted.

  He got away. And he saw everything.

  And he must have moved fast, she thought absently. To hook around and get to a hunting party on the other side of this ledge—in time for Sylvia to come find Delos.

  “You probably don’t know him,” Sylvia was saying. “But I do. He’s the slave trader I use to get girls from Outside. He’s normally pretty good, but today he was all upset. He said a group of slaves got loose on the mountain, and somehow his partner Bern got killed.”

  You…witch, Maggie thought. She couldn’t think of a swear word strong enough.

  Sylvia knew. There was no doubt about it. If Gavin was her flunky, and if he’d told her that Bern was dead, he must have told her the rest. That Bern had been killed by Prince Delos himself, fried with blue fire, and that there were two slave girls in front of Delos at the time.

  She knew all along, Maggie thought, and she was just trying to trap Delos. But why isn’t she afraid of him? He’s the prince, after all. His father’s dead; he’s in charge. So how come she dares to set up her little traps?

  “We were all concerned,” Sylvia was going on, tilting her silvery head to one side. “All the nobles, and especially your great-grandfather. Loose slaves can mean trouble.”

  “How sweet of you to worry,” Delos said. From what Maggie could see of his face, it was expressionless and his voice was dry and level. “But you shouldn’t have. I used the fire for practice—on the other slave trader. Also on two slaves. They interrupted me when I wanted quiet.”

  Maggie sat in helpless admiration.

  He did it. He outsmarted her. Now there’s nothing she can say. And there’s no way to prove that he didn’t kill us. Gavin ran; he couldn’t have seen anything after that.

  He saved us. Delos saved Cady and me both—again.

  “I see.” Sylvia bowed her head, looking sweet and placating, if not quite convinced. “Well, of course you had every right to do that. So the slaves are dead.”

  “Yes. And since they were only slaves, why are we standing here talking about them? Is there something about them I don’t know?”

  “No, no. Of course not,” Sylvia said quickly. “You’re right; we’ve wasted enough time. Let’s go back.”

  In her mind, Maggie heard Gavin’s voice. “It’s not like they were ordinary slaves. If we don’t deliver that maiden we’re dead.”

  So she’s lying again, Maggie thought. What a surprise. But who’s the maiden? And why’s she so important?

  For that matter, she thought, who’s this great-grandfather of Delos’s? When Sylvia mentioned him it sounded almost like a threat. But if he’s a great-grandfather he’s got to be ancient. How are Sylvia and some old geezer teamed up?

  It was an interesting question, but there was no time to think about it now. Sylvia and Delos were turning away from the cave, Sylvia murmuring about having to take a look at Delos’s arm when they got back. In another moment they’d passed out of Maggie’s line of sight and she heard the crunching noise of feet on slate.

  Maggie waited until the last footstep faded, then she held her breath and waited for a count of thirty. It was all she could stand. She ducked through the entrance crack and stood in the open air.

  It was fully dark now. She was very nearly blind. But she could sense the vast emptiness of the valley in front of her, and the solidity of the mountain at her back.

  And she should have felt relieved, to be outside and not caught—but instead she felt strangely stifled. It took her a moment to realize why.

  There was no sound at all. No footsteps, no voices, and no animals, either. And that was what felt eerie. It might be too cold at night for mosquitoes and gnats and flies, but there should have been some animal life to be heard. Birds heading into the trees to rest, bats heading out. Deer feeding. Bucks charging around—it was autumn, after all.

  There was nothing. Maggie had the unnerving feeling that she was alone in a strange lifeless world swathed in cotton, cut off from everything real.

  Don’t stick around and think about it, she told herself sternly. Find Cady. Now!

  Gritting her teeth, she thrust the water bag into her jacket and started back. By keeping close to the mountain’s bulk on her left and feeling ahead with her foot before each step, she could find her way in the dark.

  When she reached the ledge, her stomach tightened in dismay.

  Terrific. Going down in pitch darkness—there’s going to be no way to see the footholds. Oh, well, I’ll feel for them. The worst that can happen is I fall a hundred feet straight down.

  “Cady,” she whispered. She was afraid to talk too loudly; the hunting party might be anywhere and sound could carry surprisingly well on a mountain slope.

  “Cady? Are you okay?”

  Her heart thumped slowly five times before she heard something below. Not a voice, just a stirring, like cloth on rock, and then a sigh.

  Relief flooded through Maggie in a wave that was almost painful. Cady hadn’t died or been abducted because Maggie had left her. “Stay there,” she whispered as loudly as she dared. “I’m coming down. I’ve brought water.”

  It wasn’t as hard going down as she’d expected. Maybe because she was still high on adrenaline, running in survival mode. Her feet seemed to find the toeholds of their own accord and in a few minutes she was on the boulders.

  “Cady.” Her fingers found warmth and cloth. It moved and she heard another little sigh. “Cady, are you okay? I can’t see you.”

  And then the darkness seemed to lighten, and Maggie realized that she could see the shape she was touching, dimly but distinctly. She glanced up and went still.

  The moon was out. In a sky that was otherwise covered with clouds, there was a small opening, a clear spot. The moon shone down through it like a supernatural white face, nearly ful
l.

  “Maggie.” The voice was a soft breath, almost a whisper, but it seemed to blow peace and calm into Maggie’s heart. “Thanks for letting me rest. I feel stronger now.”

  Maggie looked down. Silver light touched the curves of Cady’s cheek and lips. The blind girl looked like some ancient Egyptian princess, her dark hair loose in crimped waves around her shoulders, her wide, heavy-lashed eyes reflecting the moon. Her face was as serene as ever.

  “I’m sorry it took so long. I got some water,” Maggie said. She helped Cady sit up and put the water bag to her lips.

  She doesn’t look as feverish, she thought as Cady was drinking. Maybe she can walk. But where? Where can we go?

  They would never make it to the pass. And even if they did, what then? They’d be high on a mountain—some mountain—in the dark and cold of a November night.

  “We need to get you to a doctor,” she said.

  Cady stopped drinking and gave the bag back. “I don’t think there’s anything like that here. There might be some healing woman down there in the castle—but…” She stopped and shook her head. “It’s not worth it.”

  “What do you mean, it’s not worth it? And, hey, you’re really feeling better, aren’t you?” Maggie added, pleased. It was the first time Cady had gotten out more than a few words. She sounded very weak, but rational, and surprisingly knowledgeable.

  “It’s not worth it because it’s too much of a risk. I’m too much of a risk. You have to leave me here, Maggie. Go down and get to shelter yourself.”

  “Not this again!” Maggie waved a hand. She really couldn’t deal with this argument anymore. “If I left you up here, you’d die. It’s going to get freezing cold. So I’m not going to leave you. And if there’s a healing woman down at the castle, then we’re going to the castle. Wherever the castle is.”

  “It’s the place all the Night People are,” Arcadia said, unexpectedly grim. “The slaves, too. Everybody who lives here is inside the castle gates; it’s really like a little town. And it’s exactly the place you shouldn’t go.”

  Maggie blinked. “How come you know so much? Are you an escaped slave like Jeanne?”