Waking the Serpent

by Jane Kindred

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  Rhea dropped into the papasan and drew her feet up to sit cross-legged. “Our names—you know they come from a specific set of goddesses.”

  “The first daughters of Uranus and Gaia.” Theia pulled up the matching ottoman and straddled it. “The Titanides.”

  Phoebe kept one eye on the window, not entirely listening. “Yeah, so?”

  “So,” said Theia, “we’ve always thought maybe our...affinity for the esoteric had something to do with our ancestry. Like maybe early Greek ancestry.”

  “But it doesn’t,” said Rhea. “At least, not the way we thought.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We signed up for that ancestor website and looked back as far as we could. The Greek bloodline is pretty watered-down. But the other side, the Carlisles—they have an interesting history with the Covent.”

  Phoebe turned away from the window. “Interesting how?”

  “They were one of the founding families, like the Diamantes. Only...we kind of got thrown out several generations back.”

  “Thrown out?”

  “The Covent was originally founded as a heretical offshoot of the Catholic church. Turns out our great-great-great-something-or-other grandfather married someone even the Covent considered worthy of burning at the stake. She was reputed to have...”

  Theia paused and Rhea finished the sentence. “Demon blood.”

  They’d gotten Phoebe’s full attention. “She had what, now?”

  “Specifically, the blood of Lilith.”

  Lilith. Where had Phoebe heard someone mention her recently? “As in the supposed first wife of Adam, Lilith?”

  “That would be the one, yeah.”

  “But here’s the kicker,” said Rhea. That wasn’t the kicker? “Mom’s ancestry traced back to the same woman.”

  “And apparently the Lilith blood only manifests in female children.” Theia became more excited as she spoke. “Meaning there must be a recessive ‘Lilith blood’ allele and we got two copies—one from Dad’s side, one from Mom’s—which gave us the ‘Lilith blood’ phenotype.” Theia seemed to realize she’d gone into biology-geek mode and she grinned and threw her arms out in a gesture encompassing the three of them. “So I guess you’d say we’re super demon-y. Ta-da!”

  Phoebe laughed out loud. They were putting her on, and she’d fallen for it. Why they’d chosen right now, she had no idea. Maybe they’d thought taking her mind off the situation would help. “Good one. You guys almost had me.”

  Rhea folded her arms. “We’re not kidding.”

  Stress and lack of sleep were starting to make her cranky. “Look, I don’t have the patience for this right now. I thought you two were going to come up with something helpful, and you’re inventing fantasies about being the descendants of a Sumerian demoness.”

  Theia was subdued. “Akkadian, actually.”

  “That’s in dispute.” Rhea’s stance was still sullen. “She may be Babylonian or Assyrian. But Lilith’s origins can be considered both demonic and divine, depending on your perspective.”

  Phoebe sighed. “I don’t care if she’s an Icelandic warrior princess. Just tell me why the heck you two are going on about her while possessed coyotes are circling my damn house.”

  “If our gifts are attributable to Lilith,” said Theia patiently, “and the gene is only present in female offspring, then maybe the magic is also exponential, and together, our gifts would be amplified.” She shared a look with her twin. “We just want to test our theory. It’s a full moon out there, which is supposed to enhance magical energy, and even the coyotes seem to be drawing some power from it. If those five coyotes are being controlled by shades, with our added energy...”

  Rhea finished for her. “You should be able to vanquish them.”

  Phoebe’s fists clenched involuntarily at her sides. “You did not just say that.”

  “We don’t mean force them to cross over. We’re not advocating that.”

  “Then what are you advocating?”

  “More like an exorcism. Just...” Rhea made a shoving gesture with her hands. “Give them a push to make them step out of the coyotes they’ve stepped into.”

  She’d certainly told shades to get out before, but usually only from herself, which she had the obvious right to do. This seemed too much like what Ione and the Covent engaged in. Or even the necromancer himself. Then again, she had commanded Jacob to leave Rafe. But Jacob had been inhabiting him without permission. And coyotes couldn’t exactly grant permission. At least, she didn’t think so.

  “How do I know I wouldn’t be hurting them somehow?”

  Rhea grinned. “See? I knew she’d come around.”

  “Don’t third-person me. And I didn’t say I’d do it. I’m not sure I can do it. I’m just wondering if it’s something I should do. Consent is paramount in working with shades. Just like the living. That’s why what the Covent does is so unconscionable.”

  “Do you think they’re consenting to doing the necromancer’s bidding?”

  A particularly unnerving bay punctuated Theia’s sentence—a mournful, hopeless howl that made her think of Lila and her unfulfilled need for Jacob. What the necromancer was making the shades do—all of it, but especially the ride-alongs—definitely wasn’t consensual. They did his bidding, by all accounts, because they had no choice. The very thing the Covent warned against—manipulation by a dark practitioner.

  Phoebe unclenched her fists. “No. And I did promise to help Rafe stop him.” She sighed resolutely. “So how do you propose we do this ‘amplification’?”

  The two of them were wearing grins like it was Christmas Eve. They’d obviously been planning this for a while.

  Rhea jumped up and took Theia’s hand, holding her other out to Phoebe. “I think we need to form a physical connection first.”

  Phoebe couldn’t help laughing as she clasped Rhea’s hand and completed the circuit. They’d joked about being the Charmed Ones for years, complete with their own Phoebe. “I am not chanting ‘the power of three will set us free.’”

  “Don’t worry.” Theia squeezed her hand. “No chanting. You just do your thing and try to consciously draw power from us.”

  Phoebe didn’t really have a “thing,” but she figured a little invocation of the cardinal directions along with Ione’s spell to call shades would be as good a start as any.

  She named the five, hoping she was right and not calling shades she had no business calling. As she sensed the shades being drawn to her, she concentrated on Theia and Rhea on either side of her. There was a sort of current flowing from them into her, reminiscent of shade energy.

  Through the window, the coyotes were running back and forth on the property line in agitation. The alpha wasn’t visible.

  Phoebe addressed them. “Jacob, Lila, Ernesto, Barbara and Monique—if you’re the shades inhabiting the physical form of these coyotes, it’s time for you to go. Let go of them. Let them be. Get out.” Her arms shook, making it an effort to hold on to her sisters’ hands.

  “Phoebe? Are you okay?” She wasn’t sure which one of them had spoken. The coyotes were vocalizing in frantic yips and yowls, scrabbling at the ground, running in circles. Phoebe couldn’t answer.

  Electric current seemed to rush through the twins into Phoebe, and then up and out, like a reverse lightning strike. Her sisters both shrieked at the same time and let go of her hands, wringing theirs, just as the clamor from the coyotes outside ceased and turned into whimpering as they scampered off into the darkness. All but one, who’d made it to the bushes on the other side of the drive before the alpha leaped from its cover and took the fleeing coyote by the throat, shaking it and snapping the animal’s neck.

  The nagual bared its teeth at Phoebe through the window,
its eyes glowing with menace, before it, too, disappeared into the night. Whatever had been keeping Phoebe upright until that moment vanished and she dropped to the floor in a heap.

  Chapter 21

  The twins knelt over her, shaking her by the shoulders and calling her name.

  “Shit, Rhe. What did we do?” Theia’s voice was high and thin.

  “Stop it.” Phoebe realized her eyes were closed and opened them. Both of her sisters were pale and wide-eyed.

  “Oh, my God, Phoebe.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” She lifted her head as Rhea slipped a pillow under it. “Just a little dazed.”

  Theia tried to hide tears of relief. “I thought we’d really done it when you started jabbering in all those voices at once.”

  “When I what?” Phoebe sat up, ignoring the throbbing in the back of her skull that advised against it.

  “It was absolutely creepy.” Rhea shuddered. “Horror-movie bad. I thought we’d have to call an exorcist.”

  “I don’t remember that at all.”

  The three of them jumped at the sound of loud banging on the front door. Phoebe’s stomach dropped. Had the necromancer ditched the nagual just to come straight out and kill them?

  “Phoebe, open the door! Can you hear me? Phoebe!”

  Her muscles unclenched with relief. “It’s Rafe.” She fumbled to her feet, waving her sisters away as she stepped up to open the door.

  Rafe, dressed in baby-blue pajama pants and loafers, stared at her with sleep-mussed hair. And, damn, if he didn’t somehow manage to make that look sexy.

  “Rafe? What are you doing here?”

  “I felt...something.” He blinked with confusion as the twins stepped up on either side of her. Rhea didn’t even try to pretend she wasn’t checking him out.

  “My sisters, Theia and Rhea. Guys, this is Rafael Diamante.” Phoebe opened the screen door. “You might as well come in, and do it quick before Puddleglum—” She grabbed the little bugger as he dashed between her legs and swept him up.

  “Damn. I mean, how do you do?” Rhea held out her hand and Rafe shook it, bemused, as he stepped inside.

  Theia’s greeting was more subdued, with a nod and a little, “Hey.”

  “Sorry.” Rafe rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your family gathering. I just—can we talk in private?”

  Phoebe threw her sisters a look that promised trouble if they gave her any grief right now. “Could you guys make us all some coffee? I don’t think anybody’s going back to sleep at this point.”

  Theia headed for the kitchen. “Sure thing.”

  Rhea stayed in the hallway a moment longer as Phoebe waved Rafe ahead of her to her room. Before Phoebe closed the bedroom door, Rhea coughed into her hand and the cough sounded suspiciously like “hottie.”

  Phoebe rolled her eyes and sat on the bed while Rafe remained standing. “You said you felt something?”

  “My tattoo. It was writhing over my back like it was trying to get out of my skin. Woke me up. I don’t know how, but I knew it was something to do with you. That the nagual was here.” Rafe raked his fingers through his hair. “I saw a dead coyote on your driveway with its throat torn out. You didn’t actually—that’s not the nagual?”

  “No.” Phoebe rubbed her arms, goose-pimpling with cold in the aftermath of what must have been a group step-in, however brief. “The nagual killed it. He showed up here with a pack of them, howling and circling the place. I took a chance the pack was being controlled by shades and cast them out.”

  Rafe’s face registered pure shock. “You crossed them?”

  “No. God, no. I would never do that. I just told them to get out and leave the coyotes alone. It seems to have worked. And it seems to have really pissed off the necromancer.”

  “Wow.” Rafe regarded her with surprise. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

  “Neither did I. My sisters suggested we combine our energy—they have this theory we have some kind of...” Phoebe paused, not sure she wanted to go into the whole “demon blood” thing. “We’re descended from some sort of divine bloodline—and somehow that seems to have amplified my ability. But your spell held. So thanks for that.”

  Rafe’s eyebrow lifted but he didn’t ask for clarification. “I think that must be what I felt. The necromancer was using everything he had to try to cross the barrier I’d put up.”

  Things still felt awkward between them. Phoebe wanted to ask what was bothering him, but she was also acutely aware of what Jacob had said to her—and not said to her—right before he’d stepped out of her earlier this evening.

  What she ended up saying sounded combative. “Why didn’t you call?”

  He blinked, as though it hadn’t occurred to him, and his ears went pink. “I... I don’t know. I was functioning on instinct, I guess, following my blood—or the ink. They’re starting to seem like one and the same. Something activated my magic and I just went with it. Jumped in the car.”

  “No reporters at the gate?”

  “Not this time. I don’t think the story they’re hoping for is good enough for them to sleep in their vans.” He smiled, but it was strained. “Anyway, it looks like you and your sisters have everything under control.”

  “You don’t have to go.” Phoebe gave him an encouraging smile, trying to dispel whatever weirdness had come between them—probably it was just because she was acting odd. “I like having you here.”

  Rafe’s posture was tense. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “We don’t need to do anything.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’ve been fully taken care of in that department.” The sudden hostility radiating from him took her aback.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Look, it’s none of my business what you do or whom you do it with. I just sort of thought something was happening between us, and I feel pretty stupid after opening up to you about my problem. But you’re an adult, I’m an adult. Whatever. Let’s just focus on stopping the necromancer and forget about the rest of it.”

  “Rafe, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not doing anything with anyone.”

  “Funny. That’s not what he said.”

  Phoebe’s stomach tightened. “What who said?”

  Rafe’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Carter. Hanson. Hamilton.” He bit out each word through clenched teeth. “My goddamn lawyer. Guess a little suspension from the PD’s office for misconduct doesn’t faze you. That Girl Scout act you put on is something else, Phoebe Carlisle.”

  Before Phoebe could recover from the surprise of the accusation, Rafe yanked open the door and swept down the hall. She stood and watched him slam the screen door behind him without saying anything to stop him.

  Theia peered around the kitchen corner. “What happened?”

  “Rafe Diamante happened.” Phoebe came down the hall and took the coffee mug Theia held out. “And he’s an asshole.” Her eyes were prickling with the threat of tears she had no intention of indulging in front of her little sisters. If she started talking about what Rafe thought, she’d have to explain about Carter, and she knew if she tried to dance around what had happened—or what she feared had happened—they’d be onto her in an instant.

  Theia gave her a side hug as she drank the coffee. Phoebe wasn’t even sure what time it was. This whole night had been surreal.

  “Sorry, Phoebes.” Rhea emerged from the kitchen with her own mug. “Mostly because damn.” She shook her head. “I don’t know which part to perv over—those abs, the awesome tattoo or that ass.”

  Phoebe smiled in spite of herself. “I can always count on you to put things into perspective, Rhe.” She warmed her hands on the mug and sighed. “It is a pretty spectacular ass.”

  �
��Well, look at it this way. You got to see it walking away. Just hold on to that image. And get a good vibrator.”

  “Ha.” Phoebe swallowed a sip of her coffee. “Might as well.”

  Rhea took her phone from her pocket. “In fact, I’m going to...” Her voice trailed off and her expression turned grim, but before Phoebe could ask what was wrong, both Phoebe’s and Theia’s phones chirped with a notification.

  As she went to her room to get hers, the twins spoke simultaneously from the kitchen.

  “Holy shit.”

  “Phoebe, don’t.”

  She’d received a text from a number she didn’t recognize. “What do you mean, don—?” The last letter was strangled in her throat as an image appeared. Phoebe felt the blood drain from her face. It was a picture of her—topless and on her knees, smiling up at a man she’d never seen before, with an expression that didn’t belong to her—in Carter’s hotel room.

  * * *

  Rafe drove through the dark, trying once again to get Phoebe out of his head—not to mention the tiny pink tank top she’d been wearing without a bra. Something kept drawing him back to her. He was like an addict. Or a lunatic. He knew he had no business being this affected by what she did—being eaten up with jealousy over the thought of her with Hamilton. She wasn’t his girlfriend. She hadn’t made him any promises. And he’d put her off repeatedly—not to mention the stupid stunt with the shade. She had every right to go elsewhere.

  But did it have to be Carter fucking Hamilton? The slick, flawless, golden-haired-frat-boy persona stuck in Rafe’s craw. Spending most of the day with him going over funeral arrangements had only fueled Rafe’s simmering resentment. Hamilton had been perfectly pleasant and helpful and hadn’t brought Phoebe up again. And Rafe had fantasized all day about knocking him on his ass and pummeling his fancy face for touching her.

  He considered that she might have been so drunk she didn’t remember. Hamilton had said she’d overindulged. Maybe the look of sheer baffled outrage she’d given Rafe had been genuine. But the fact remained that of all the people she could have chosen, drunk or not, she’d screwed his pretty-boy lawyer.