“Raine’s dead,” Dean said simply.
“Can you take us there?” I asked.
As if lost in her own thoughts, her gaze swept to me in surprise. “Oui. It might be best ta see what has happened. The Chalice is a dangerous source of magic.”
Josephine led us out of the sugar cane and back through the house. “I’ll be going out Cassidy. Don’t hold lunch.”
“Okay, Jo,” the girl called from the kitchen.
Leaving the plantation house, we climbed into the SUV. Dean drove with Josephine in the passenger seat giving directions. Brittany and I sat in the back watching the bayou pass us by. As I listened to the steady hum of the engine and the periodic directions in Josephine’s lilting creole accent, my fingers slipped to the sheath at my thigh. Rubbing my thumb up and down the soft leather strapped to the outside of my jeans, I thought about all Josephine had said. And she was right. In the last few months, I’d felt more myself, as if I wasn’t fighting just to keep my head above water anymore. I thought it had been sealing the mate bonds with both Dean and Patrick and maybe that was part of it. But it was also true that Baba Yaga’s magic didn’t seem so foreign to me any longer. I didn’t notice it so much as the contagion I’d once thought it to be. Maybe I had accepted it or it had accepted me. I couldn’t say which and I suppose it didn’t really matter.
“Can you stop doing that? It creeps me out.” Brittany said as if the words were distasteful.
“Hmm, what?” I asked, suddenly snapped out of my own head.
“Petting that sheath like it’s a pet. That’s just creepy and weird.”
“I don’t complain when you do weird shit,” I snorted. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to sink down to her level but sometimes, damn it, I just couldn’t help myself.
“I don’t do weird shit,” she said, turning her nose up at the word shit. “Do I?” she asked and the uncertainty she felt came through loud and clear in her tone.
“You float things,” Dean said from the front seat. He made a left hand turn and the oak trees grew thicker as we drove further away from civilization.
“What?”
“When you’re not paying attention. You float things around you. It’s creepy to be sitting there, watching TV, minding your own business, and suddenly the remote starts levitating beside you. Not cool,” I said, continuing to stroke the sheath now just out of spite. Sometimes I amazed myself at just how grown up and mature I actually was.
“Turn here,” Josephine said. Dean made the right hand turn and then hit the brakes, coming to an abrupt stop. The road dead-ended. “We’re here.”
I turned and outside my window was a small field, overgrown with grass and wildflowers, and circled by thick forest and brush. I stepped out of the SUV, the heat and humidity of the swamp smacking me in the face. It was October, and I started to sweat as my jeans and shirt stuck to my skin. Josephine got out of the car beside me and trudged out into the field, making a beeline toward the center.
As I followed, the ground grew soft and my jeans soaked with moisture from the marshy ground we stomped through. Before we got to the center, Dean caught my hand and jerked me to a stop. “What?” I asked.
“I smell blood. Death,” he said.
I couldn’t smell shit except the bayou and the routine decomposition of vegetation that always lingered in the swamp. He stepped in front of me and continued on after Josephine, veering only slightly to the left. After about 12 paces, we found where the stench had been coming from.
“Those are human bones and is that . . .?” I said stepping around Dean to kneel beside the bones, mound of muddy goo, and a blood soaked dress. Most of the flesh was gone and in the grass was a coating of soggy ash. “I think this might be Raine.” Some of the scavengers have picked off the remaining flesh but the decomposed ash soaked into the mud suggested vampire and not a regular dead person. “I’m just guessing but it makes sense to me.”
“No time,” he said, nodding to Josephine who was chanting something twenty yards from us.
The ground shook slightly beneath me and I forgot about Raine’s remains as the Earth opened up at Josephine’s feet. Stepping closer to the open cavern she created, I stared down at a stone stairway leading into God knew what.
Without waiting, Josephine descended into a dark abyss beneath the surface.
“Where’d she go?” Brittany asked from beside us.
“You gonna follow?” Dean asked, ignoring Brittany’s question.
“You know what happened the last time we went down a dark hole in the Earth,” I answered, remembering all the shit we went through in Baba Yaga’s mountain.
“What? What happened?”
“Yeah, but no dragons this time,” Dean answered.
“Dragons!”
“You hope not.” I glanced from him back to the hole in the ground and sighed. “I don’t see any way around it.” I shrugged, resignation sitting like a stone in my gut. I huffed out a heavy breath and started down the stairs.
“Sometimes, I hate you guys,” Brittany mumbled behind us. I smirked and focused on the stone stairs and not falling down and killing myself by accident.
The first thing that caught my attention was the faint scent of burnt ozone, magic so concentrated that it manifested into something the physical senses could detect. I had a sudden appreciation for the kind of power Josephine wielded if she could produce this much magic in one place. As we sunk deeper under the earth, feeling our way down through the inky blackness, I had a sudden flashback to the Outer Realm.
“The castle,” I whispered, not wanting to give voice to such a horrific place. In that stairwell, a horde of pixies had attacked in their savage beauty and torn me to shreds.
“Could be worse,” Dean grumbled from behind me.
“How?” I bit out, remembering the razor-sharp teeth and claws cutting across my skin from creatures no bigger than a Barbie doll.
“Let me guess,” Brittany snapped from the back. “Dragons.”
“Yep,” he answered.
“Or thorns,” I added. Those damned thorns had scratched me to hell and exposed me to Baba Yaga’s dark magical taint.
“Are you ever going to tell me?” she whined.
“Probably not,” I said, not wanting to share the horror of what had lived in Fairie and how all of us had changed because of the Outer Realm. She was still young and hadn’t been totally corrupted by our world. I was hoping to let her keep that innocence just a bit longer, if I could.
“God! Sometimes I really just hate you guys.”
As we descended, gradually, I could make out Josephine’s form. A far-off light source illuminated her outline as if in an eclipse. Light flickered ahead and threw shadows against the walls of the narrow passage. Step by step, Josephine and the bottom became more visible.
As I stepped up behind Josephine’s frozen form, I placed my hand on her slumped shoulders. I waited silently for Josephine to move or say something. Behind me, Dean and Brittany circled around us and into the chamber. A small cylindrical room, encased by the earth as if it had been cut out with a precision laser, torchlight glistened off the white marble floors. Tree roots and holes where animals had burrowed were clearly visible in the walls. At its center was a golden pedestal. An empty golden pedestal.
“It’s gone,” she whispered. “It can’t be gone. Da wards are still in place but dat putain promised me she would never remove it.”
“Raine is dead. I think that was her body up in the field,” I said.
“She promised me da Chalice would never be removed. For almost a hundred years it has sat in dis place, safe from the world. Why now?” Josephine’s voice was soft and sharp as if dragged through gritted teeth.
“Good question,” Dean said, kneeling down beside the pedestal.
Etched ther
e in the gold of the pedestal was the figure of Isis, her wings spread out across her back and wrapped around the base. To her right and left, kings and queens knelt at her feet. At the end of each side, stood a king one crowned in glory under the light of the sun and the other under the crescent moon. One had the head of Anubis and the other Horus with their hands outstretched to Isis.
“Oooh, it’s pretty.”
“Do you see this?” I asked Dean, kneeling beside him.
“Mmm-hmm.” He nodded, taking a picture with his phone.
“Did you design this pedestal?” I asked.
“No,” she said, her tone short and anxious. “It manifested beneath the Chalice. I just created da room and da protection around it. The rest was its own creation.” She looked around, her café au lait skin growing pale. “What will I do? The chalice cannot fall into da wrong hands.”
I stood and stepped in front of her so her gaze had to meet mine. “What can the chalice do?”
“What it does is unclear. I only know of where it came from.”
“Where’s that?” I snapped, growing impatient.
“Long ago, a being of pure magic existed. Isis was the first.”
“Isis was a goddess,” Brittany scoffed.
“Oui. Diana, Goddess of the Hunt, was another,” she said, and I suddenly felt my stomach sink.
“Let me guess,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at Dean who was slowly rising to his full height. “Cleopatra was one of these beings as well.”
“Oui. They were creatures of magic dat walked da line between da living and da dead. Isis’s reign was a long and prosperous one. After dat, factions of magic strove for their own power, hoping to rise to da top of da preternatural food chain. Cleopatra tried to reign as Isis had but she was not da queen Isis had been. In the end, she failed.”
“Well, she died,” Brittany chirped.
“Cleopatra was smart. She saw no escape. Before she took her own life, she siphoned all her magic into da Chalice. It has been hidden from da world since 32 B.C.,” Josephine said, glancing at Brittany.
“Not hidden enough if it was in the hands of the vampire board all this time,” I said. “Why keep it? Why not destroy it?”
“They couldn’t. The magic was too concentrated. It is an object of both life and death. It cannot be destroyed by one or the other. It must be both. The only options are to destroy da Chalice and its power, or pass it on to the next of Cleopatra’s kind. That person would be able to siphon da power within.”
“What was she?” Brittany asked, so riveted in the story she didn’t really notice me squirming or Dean’s hands tighten up into fists at his sides.
“Cleopatra was a Fertiri.”
“Hey, isn’t that what you are?” Brittany asked with an excited smile lighting her bright eyes.
Dean groaned, and I said, “Damn it, Brit! Sometimes, I just want to beat the hell out of you. Everything you think comes pouring out of your mouth.”
“Fertiri,” Josephine whispered.
I froze at the awe and suspicion in that one word. Slowly, I turned to face the creole.
“Yes, you are Fertiri. Why did I not see it before?”
“Well,” I said, letting the resignation fill my tone. This was becoming the worst kept secret ever. “It’s not like there’s been one around for a while.”
“No, not a powerful one for more than two thousand years.”
“There have been others?” Brittany asked, surprised.
“Oh, oui. But the vampires hunted and slaughtered them before they could do any real harm.”
“Let’s get back to this cup,” I said.
“It’s a . . .” Brittany started and a turned my angry glare at her, stopping her words before they could leave her lips. “Fine,” she snorted. “Cup.”
“If you are truly Fertiri, then . . . da Chalice is yours by right,” Josephine said warily.
“What do I do with it?” I asked, a picture in my mind of slapping it up on the mantle or using it as a centerpiece for holidays. That probably wasn’t the proper purpose but without some kind of guidance, that was all I had.
“To take the magic of the chalice into yourself, you’ll need the blood of all your consorts, as well as yourself before you drink from it.”
“That sounds disgusting,” Brittany spat.
“It’s always blood, Brit, just get used to it.” I turned back to Josephine. “Okay, I drink the blood of everyone and then what?”
“No, all must drink,” she corrected.
“So, blood goes in, blood must go out,” Brit said with a smirk at her own cleverness.
I shook my head.
“Men can’t touch it,” Dean growled.
“Oui. Those who drink must be deemed worthy,” she said with a nod.
“By whom?” I asked.
“The Chalice will decide.”
“So, let me get this straight,” I said. “We all bleed into it. They, Dean and Patrick, take the chance of being melted to see if they’re worthy. Have I about got that right?”
“Trippy,” Britt said, grinning like a fool at Dean.
“I will turn you over my knee,” he warned and the smile left her face instantly. She crossed her arms over her chest in protest and pouted.
I placed my hand on Josephine’s shoulder and met her gaze. “Don’t worry,” I said with a placating smile. “I’ll find it. Whether I use it or not, is a different matter.”
She peered up at me as if searching my face for an answer to a question she hadn’t asked aloud. “Oui. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter 31
Blood oozed from the werewolf’s throat, coating Celeste’s hand and the Chalice in its warmth. The relic hummed with energy, latent power heating her hand to the point of burning as she moved to the vampire lying motionless next to the wolf. Quickly, she slit his throat and slid the chalice beneath the wound. Deep crimson blood oozed over the golden surface, chilling the outside of the Chalice in her hands.
“Amazing,” she whispered as the magic pulsing through the relic intensified. “One final ingredient.” In one sure stroke, she cut along her wrist and held her arm over the Chalice of Isis. Drop after drop plopped into the pool of blood already congealing at the bottom until her wound closed, cutting off the supply. But nothing happened.
“Risk nothing. Gain nothing,” she said, getting to her feet. Holding the chalice with both hands, she raised it to her lips and drank. First a sip. As the lukewarm blood hit her lips, her stomach growled wanting more. Licking her lips, she waited for something to happen, for magic to swarm the room, for the roof to open up and God smite her. ANYTHING. But she was surrounded by silence.
“Maybe it wasn’t enough.” Celeste tilted the chalice up, chugging the rest of the blood down. It coated her throat and filled her stomach until there was nothing left at the bottom of the Chalice but her own shimmering reflection in the gold. Still. Nothing.
“ARGH!” she screamed, throwing the Chalice and knife in her grasp across the room in a clank of gold and silver on the hardwood floor. Glaring down at the relic, her temper flared, her desperation spiked, and the dread of losing everything flooded her. She glanced down at the wolf and vampire lying limp at her feet, eyes wide with fear.
“It didn’t work. Nothing works!”
Crouching down before both of her sacrifices, she clenched her teeth and shook her head at them. “Are you not powerful enough? Is that it? Why didn’t it work? I followed all the instructions in that damned book. WHY?”
The wolf whimpered but didn’t move. Reaching out, Celeste snatched his hair in one hand and his chin in another and twisted. The sharp crack of the wolf’s vertebrae breaking seemed just as loud to her as the clank of the chalice had. He slumped, his body a limp and lifeless
heap. She ripped the head of the vampire from his body, leaving a pile of ash on her floor.
“Now look what you made me do,” she said as she stood and stomped over to the Chalice. “What am I missing?” she hissed, slamming the golden cup onto the table before storming into her bedroom. Varick would be there soon and she had to prepare for him. There had to be some other way to access the magic encased in the Chalice. There just had to be.
Chapter 32
As full dark covered the city, Patrick and I climbed into the Cadillac Escalade and headed out. Our destination, Raine’s home a few streets over near Lafayette Cemetery in the Garden District.
“Do you think Josephine was truthful?” Patrick asked, turning slightly in the passenger seat to meet my gaze.
“I don’t think she had any reason to lie. Plus, she told us most of it before Britt opened her big mouth.”
“Do you think our Brittany can do it? Can she create a hole in the spell?”
“Honestly,” I said, “I don’t know. Wait, I do know. She can definitely do it. The real question is: can she do it without killing all of us?”
“That is another layer of concern. Her control is varied at best.” Patrick’s mouth turned up at the corners and in the soft light from the dash, I was struck by how handsome he was and how much I loved him. How much I loved all of them.
“Do you think I’ll get Ev back?” My voice was small and I couldn’t hide the fear tightening my gut into knots.
“Where is this coming from? I’ve never known you to fail.”
He seemed so sure and the warmth of his confidence eased some of the tension making my muscles rigid.
“Oh, Patrick,” I sighed, turning to him as we sat at a light on Chestnut street. “I’ve failed so many people. Danny. Amblan. Nova. You and Dean. Even Ev. I can’t fail him again.”
Patrick’s hand slid over my thigh, filling me with a firm comfort that I desperately needed. He squeezed, and I turned to meet his gaze. “You, as well as the rest of us, are human. You are not perfect. None of us are. If you have failed them, which is truly unlikely, you have—at the very least—avenged them. And as for Dean and myself, you have never failed us. If anything, we have failed you.”
Violet Abyss (A Blushing Death Novel Book 7) Page 19
