Resurrection

by Nancy Holder

  She exhaled. “Oh, thank Goddess. You know I’m innocent.”

  There was a rippling, as though they were murmuring, but not loud enough for her to hear.

  “You will be released. But we must find another to take his place.”

  “Who?” Nicole asked.

  “One who has touched evil as often as good.”

  Fear gripped Nicole. “You don’t mean—”

  And then she was gone.

  And she was in House Moore.

  And staring at her were both Philippe and Eli.

  Philippe sat, holding Nicole’s hand as he finished recounting his part of the tale. When he had finished, Richard leaned forward and spoke.

  “So we know that Merlin was once one of the Magi and that the others imprisoned him. So the question is, how did they do it and how can we replicate it?”

  “I remember very little about what I saw and felt when we were at the Dom de Cologne,” Pablo said. “I called out for Philippe…” He thought a moment. “They were buried with something. A device. An amulet.”

  “Good, Pablo. That’s good. How do we retrieve it?” Richard asked.

  “By force,” Eli said, his jaw clenched.

  The Frozen Wasteland: Holly

  While she could keep herself warm, Holly seemed unable to find or conjure anything with which to feed herself. Her stomach growled angrily and she knew that she was in trouble. Her powers had been steadily waning, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they failed completely. And then she would starve. If she didn’t freeze to death first.

  Suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light, and when it passed, she was not where she had been. She stood in a circle, surrounded by columns and massive thronelike chairs. Was this hallucination brought on by her impending death? She turned slowly.

  “Holly Cathers. We are the Justices. We maintain the balance in this and all worlds between good and evil. Our numbers are diminished and we seek to replace the one who is no more. We have chosen you.”

  She opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but suddenly she knew…everything. She saw Nicole standing in the very same spot. She saw the destruction of the Justice who had tipped the scales. She saw the balance, teetering on a fine point throughout all of space and time.

  She shook her head fiercely. “No, you can’t make me!”

  And then standing beside her was the Goddess, in Her form as the Queen of Witches. Holly had seen her too often, had sacrificed too much to her not to recognize her in a moment.

  “There is always a cost, a price to be paid,” the Goddess said. “You have known this, and yet you have sacrificed to both the dark and the light. Now this is your destiny. If you deny it, all whom you love will be destroyed from the earth.”

  “You have to let me help them,” Holly insisted. “They love you. Worship you. How can you threaten me with their deaths?”

  The Goddess gazed on her, her face both beautiful and terrible to behold. Her eyes were very blue, her lips shell pink. And yet, as light changed and moved in her eyes, they darkened.

  “It is no threat,” she replied. “It is what will happen. You may help them by protecting the balance. Anything else, and you shall curse them.”

  Holly collapsed onto the marble floor. She had known there was a price to be paid, but she had never dreamed it would be this.

  Jer, she cried out in spirit.

  Holly.

  She could hear him and feel him in her heart and her mind. So much silence for so long, and now there he was again. She closed her eyes and cried.

  Comme je t’aime. Comme je t’adore.

  “If you love him and do not wish him to die, then you must let him go,” the Justices proclaimed. “For all time, and all eternity. You will never, ever see him again.”

  And that was how she knew that she had never completely given up hope that they would be together. For if she had, her heart would not now have been able to break.

  Cologne, Germany: the Heroes

  They had made it inside the cathedral unchallenged. That alone was enough to frighten Nicole. Though it cost her dearly, she had left Owen behind at House Moore, speaking privately to Sasha to guard him well. Sasha, not Anne-Louise. Sasha looked puzzled but agreed; and Nicole left without telling anyone what she’d learned while a prisoner of the Justices. She was fairly certain Anne-Louise didn’t know that she was a Deveraux. And perhaps it was a lie, created by the traitor, Xavier Moore, meant to confuse them.

  Dr. Temar and Kari had also been left behind at House Moore, although there had been secret debates about sending him and Kari away. If Merlin attempted to contact her again, the dead woman could act as a scrying stone for him, acting as his eyes and ears inside House Moore. But no one had the heart to abandon the two. Nicole knew that Nigel Temar had brought Kari back because he loved her. His attempt had gone terribly wrong, but who was she to deny the powerful pull of love?

  Tears welled; she had to be here, in Cologne. She was one of the Three. And she reminded herself that Sasha could open a portal in case they needed to retreat. The situation was precarious at best; when had her life and the lives of her loved ones been truly safe?

  Never. Maybe we can change that. With what we do this day.

  They had taken two days to travel to the cathedral. They had avoided using any magic, to not draw attention to themselves or their intended destination.

  As Nicole entered the cathedral, she couldn’t help but contrast it with her last visit there. This time she wasn’t alone. This time she was seeking something far more precious than sanctuary.

  Together she, Amanda, and Pablo headed past the glittering altar and the box that was said to house the relics of the Three Kings. A pretty fantasy for the faithful and the tourists. Their finder’s spell had revealed their real resting place—in a tiny crypt dead center in the nave of the cathedral.

  Past cobwebs and skittering creatures they crept, hearts in their throats. Saints, queens, and knights lay in effigy atop stone coffins etched with Latin prayers for their souls.

  She smelled spices—frankincense, and myrrh.

  And then, there it was…a simple stone box, unadorned, save for a pentagram on the side.

  The Star of Bethlehem.

  Nicole looked at Amanda and Pablo. The others had fanned out inside the church at key places, watching and waiting, alert for their signal. If Merlin knew of the existence of this place, he would surely be coming. If the kings were really in the sarcophagus. If they had the means to send Merlin back.

  Too many questions and not enough answers.

  Using their combined magic, the three of them lifted off the lid of the sarcophagus. Nicole gazed down on the full skeletons of three men crowded together, wearing the faded tatters of what appeared to have been very ornate clothing.

  Nicole’s skin crawled. Please, help us, she begged the dead sorcerers.

  “Look, around their necks,” Amanda whispered.

  Three tarnished gold discs hung on chains. Pablo nodded.

  “Yes,” he whispered, clutching both their hands. “Yes. I saw them when I collapsed. But I do not know how they go together.”

  Nicole clenched her teeth, reached down, and removed the gold disc from the one closest to her. Amanda and Pablo did the same. Then they looked at one another, and each of them hung a disc around their necks.

  “Oh, my Goddess, I’m so scared,” Amanda confessed.

  The weight of the gold disc was like the weight of the world. Nicole nodded and took Amanda’s hand.

  “We’re together,” she reminded her. “I’ll watch out for you.”

  “And me for you. And you,” Amanda added, to Pablo.

  Hastily they replaced the sarcophagus lid, and then hurried back to the front of the cathedral.

  “We have it, but we don’t know yet how to use it,” Nicole said to Jer.

  Jer just nodded as he glanced at the gleaming discs, then returned his attention to one of the windows.

  “What’
s wrong?” Amanda asked in a low voice.

  “We’re in trouble,” Jer said.

  Nicole looked past him and gasped. There, just beyond the church grounds, was an army of nightmares waiting to destroy them—demons, wraiths, monsters. Nicole didn’t even have words for all the horrors surrounding the cathedral.

  “Why can’t we just open a portal back to House Moore?” Amanda asked.

  “The cathedral itself is heavily warded. We won’t be able to open a portal until we get off church grounds,” Armand explained.

  “Owen,” Nicole said faintly.

  “We’ll do what we can,” Philippe promised. He glanced at Jer. “I am yours to command.”

  Preparations were quickly made. They conjured armor, weapons, and a few warhorses. The plan was to make it past enemy lines and open a portal at the first opportunity.

  They rode out of the church doors and lined up just in front of the entrance, facing the enemy.

  For one moment there was absolute silence, and then the earth itself seemed to groan as their enemies rode, flew, and marched toward them with Merlin leading the charge, seated atop a dragon.

  Jer felt the fear that rippled through the line like electricity. No one moved, or breathed, as they watched the enemy advance. And then there was the sound of a single bullet, and the mighty dragon crashed to the ground, dead, a gaping wound where its left eye had once been.

  “I’m sorry. Were we waiting for something?” he heard Richard shout.

  “Charge! Attack!” Jer Deveraux shouted, and his voice echoed off the stones. Lightning blazed; a dozen shooting stars bulleted across the heavens, bursting red, green, white, and silver, as prayers and spells erupted toward the God and the Goddess. Horses and demons and ghosts raced toward one another. Weapons clashed and clanged.

  In another time I was another warrior, Jer thought. I led the charge again and again; I was feared; I was fierce; I was the young lion of House Deveraux. And a witch felled me. A witch brought my House low. I was a king and she—

  She is not here. She is safe.

  I am Jer, and she is Holly, and we’re our own people.

  “Good-bye,” he said in English.

  Dressed in the armor and helmet of a knight, Philippe kicked his horse hard. From the opposing side a Deveraux wraith streaked toward him. A blur of bone, black, and scarlet, its unearthly shriek pierced his eardrums. Its dark green robe flared; black eyes stared from beneath its hood. It flared through the sky with a scythe raised over its head, the death-dealing weapon gripped in a hand of bone.

  Philippe’s warhorse galloped fearlessly, chuffing steam, and he aimed his magical lance at the apparition. He braced himself, knowing that although he could destroy the wraith, it could cut off his head.

  He kicked the horse’s flanks, urging it to greater speed. The lance weighed thirty kilos at least, and taxed his biceps and forearm; he willed the strain to another place and filled his mind with expectations of victory, and Nicole’s image blazed brightly. He heard the rush of blood in his temples, overpowering the shouts and explosions surrounding him. He could see nothing but Nicole’s face.

  The wraith bore in on him, speeding faster than Philippe had expected. Lightning struck the scythe and rain broke the sky, pouring down like a waterfall. Closer, closer; the icy breath of death blew on him.

  The scythe slashed down, slicing Philippe’s horse across its neck, and the horse whinnied in agony. Its forelegs buckled, and as it went down, Philippe prepared to let go of the lance and leap off his mount. But at the crucial moment, he ticked his glance down, to find Eli on his back, blood pouring through his breastplate. If Philippe dropped his lance, it would hit Eli.

  The wraith’s black eyes met his, and Philippe saw his face in their obsidian reflection. He was going to die.

  Nicole, he thought. If Eli and I both die, who will protect her? It must be you, my Heavenly Father; and you, Mother Goddess. Give me something to shield her, save her. Let me never rest until she and Owen are truly safe.

  The cold blade of the scythe touched his neck. He would die praying to his Christian God, to his Mother. His lips moved.

  And then: He saw.

  He saw it all.

  He heard it.

  This is the ritual they must perform, the Ladies of the Lily three: Together they must put the amulet, piece to piece to piece, jagged, like their hearts. Worn down, like their souls. And yet, potent when merged and bound by true love of sister to sister to sister witch.

  The words of the ritual danced in the air around him and flowed through him.

  Let me outlive my death, he begged. Let me tell them.

  And then…

  The scythe came down.

  In the Temple of the Blind Justices: Holly

  “It is forbidden to return,” the single voice of the Blind Justices informed Holly. But she knew the strains of that voice now: Loudest in her refusal was a Justice named Alariel, the Justice who sat to Holly’s right. They all had names.

  Holly stood before them, her marble throne vacant, and turned in a slow circle. She was dressed as they were, in white veils and robes, like a nun. White on white on white, blinding.

  “I’m going,” she told them. “Don’t try to stop me. I am the most powerful witch in the world.” Her heart was pounding, and she knew she sounded less like a grown woman in control of her own fate and more like a petulant child. She was so frightened and worried for her Jer and her cousins that she could barely speak.

  “Not this world. We can stop you,” the voice said.

  “Then…don’t. Please,” she said, forcing herself to sound more reasonable. “Let me go to them, and explain. They’re fighting for the sake of the balance, but they’re distracted because they don’t know what happened to me.”

  “You may not save them.” That was Stephen St. John, once a mortal, like herself. “You may not take sides. It will further upset the balance. This must play out on the mortal plane.”

  “I won’t save them,” she promised.

  And then…

  Oh, my Goddess, the blood. The deaths. Eli! Philippe!

  She was in a city, which she had not expected. It was Cologne. The cathedral loomed large against the moon, and the unseeing, unknowing citizens were nowhere to be seen. It was as if another city had been superimposed on the mortal one, and the battle played out there.

  Pulled into an alley away from the chaos, Philippe’s head lay beside his body. Eli was bleeding profusely beside him. Amanda held hands with Nicole. Her hand was clasped tightly around Amanda’s as the two recited a healing spell, Nicole’s voice cracking at every syllable with broken weeping.

  Tommy and Richard stood with them, heads bowed. Then Tommy slowly raised his chin, and saw Holly. His eyes widened and his lips parted.

  “Holly,” he rasped.

  The others looked up.

  “Holly, oh, Goddess!” Amanda cried and tried to run to her, but Nicole blinked hard and yanked her back. Her eyes were almost swollen shut, and her lips were bleeding.

  “Holly, help them,” Nicole said, asking no questions, needing no answers as she swayed, but remained standing.

  “She needs us,” Amanda corrected. “We’re the Ladies of the Lily. It’s the power of the Three. Oh, Holly, where have you been? We’ve needed you so badly. Come on, quickly!”

  Holly’s twin cousins held out their free hands, intending to create their circle. She took a step toward them.

  Then she remembered her promise. And the memory of every terrible thing she had done to acquire more power to save her covenates hit her like a fatal blow. She was more powerful than any of them, and because of it she was unable to help them.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, as skyrockets of light flared overhead and an explosion shook the ground. Light flared around her, sealing her into a protective sphere of light. “I can’t. I can’t do anything to help you.”

  “No!” Nicole screamed, falling down between Philippe and Eli. “Look at Philippe! And Eli is dy
ing!”

  A projectile slammed into the rock above Holly’s head; fragments sprayed outward like shrapnel. The bubble around Holly intensified. Amanda and Tommy murmured an incantation, forming an invisible barrier between the group and the flying pieces of rock. Nicole threw her arms protectively over both men.

  “What’s happened to you?” Richard asked Holly.

  “I—I’m one of the Blind Justices now,” she said, and she knew that until she’d spoken those words, she hadn’t really believed it. “We maintain the balance. I’m not allowed to interfere.”

  “Interfere?” Nicole said, raising her head. “I’m begging you to save Eli’s life. And Owen! Oh, Philippe…” She caught herself. “Damn you, Holly, help us!”

  Holly’s heart was breaking. She could feel the sphere thickening as she stared through its light, casting her loved ones in a milky white glow.

  “If it was Jer, you would…,” Amanda began, then trailed off.

  Jer staggered into the alley, Eve’s arm slung over his shoulders. His face was bloodied; Holly couldn’t see any of his scars. Eve’s expression barely changed when she caught sight of Holly. The warlock was worn down, shell-shocked. She eased her arm off Jer’s shoulder and stepped away. Jer stared at Holly for a heartbeat. Two, three. And then he ran for her, through the sphere, and threw his arms around her. She held him close, breathing in the scent of him, the solid warmth, his love.

  “Holly, by the God,” he breathed, and then they kissed. Their lips touched; their mouths joined. He pulled the breath out of her, pushed it back, mingled it with his. Their hearts beat against each other. They held, believed, fused.

  “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jer said in a rush. “Holly, I love you. Join me in thrall, the lady to the lord. Now. Here.” He gestured to Amanda, Nicole, and Tommy. “Help us form a Circle. Eve, no offense, but you’re a warlock, and—”

  For a moment Holly couldn’t even react. Then sorrow welled inside her, and anger pulled her down, down to the depths beyond where anyone should have to go, have to suffer…

  All she could do was not react.

  “Okay,” Jer said, “Nicole, you stand there. Oh, God, if we can heal Eli, and conjure the Black Fire…”