Personal Warriors

by Rachel A. Collett

  “What about Gayle?” I asked, but Roslyn had already swept off in pursuit of the others.

  A gust of wind caused me to wrap tighter in my coat. Fiona had witnessed most of my interlude with Roslyn, but I waited for the question that danced at the edge of her mind. “So?”

  “She called me ancient.”

  She hummed. “Truly. A relic.” I bit back a laugh despite my irritation. “But did you sense anything from Roslyn?”

  I feigned innocence. “What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t ask—”

  “I didn’t have to,” I said, looking away. “A lot of her thoughts are an open book. She didn’t even think to guard herself until it was too late. She’s not the traitor. She’s not even a real witch.”

  She smirked, staring after the next leader of the coven. “I didn’t think so. She wasn’t even here during the time your mother was alive.”

  “Did you know?” I asked.

  “About her not being a witch? Of course.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the others?”

  She shrugged, pushing from the door frame. “She’s a good leader, which is what these people need.”

  I peered up at the large windows above us. Frustration zinged through me. This had not gone the way I planned.

  “Don’t be upset,” Fiona said, reading my expression. “The Rite doesn’t take that long. You’ll be able to start your investigations as early as tomorrow morning.”

  She beckoned me to follow her. A black-and-white patterned floor and marble ceilings echoed our every step. I kept my awe of my surroundings in check as I climbed the grand staircase that led to the second floor. The home was empty except for us.

  “So, did you create the Great Rite?”

  Annoyance rolled from her words. “Of course not. That’s a creation of their own—another vain hope to get additional powers. What a question.”

  “Are you going to be mad at me this whole time?” I asked, turning to face her.

  She pursed her lips. “Perhaps.” Then her breath left her in an audible whoosh. “Of course not. And I can understand. I keep forgetting that you really haven’t known me for that long. And it makes sense. Nikolaos betrayed Rachel, and my own grandson—”

  “But they’re not you, and I am sorry.”

  She shrugged, stopping in front of a carved, wooden door. “I can’t say that in your place I would have acted any different.”

  She opened a door to a large room with yellow, floral wallpaper. Inside were two beds, each stripped down to the mattress only. Clean linens lay at the edge. The space was bare of any decoration except for a dresser and a single nightstand. An empty fireplace sat, cold and drafty. I shivered as I placed my bag down where Fiona indicated.

  “It’s freezing in here. Don’t they have heating?”

  “There’s lighting and heating, but they rarely use it. You’re lucky. They just installed the plumbing only a decade ago. They’re purists, in a sense. Most of them don’t even own a cell phone. And no—they didn’t get that from me either.”

  She pulled a flashlight from her backpack and held it out to me. “If you have to go, the bathroom is out the bedroom, down the hallway, last door on the right. I’ll light a fire.”

  23

  The Rite

  After finding a bite to eat in the enormous kitchen, we finally settled in to sleep, hoping the morning would come all that quicker. The fire did little to improve the drafty conditions of the room. I shivered in my too-thin of blankets.

  Eventually, I dragged my bed closer to the fire, not caring how the metal frame scraped against the hardwood floors.

  Fiona slept soundly, only waking when I moved about too much. I wasn’t sure if it was the cold alone that kept me awake, or the thought of the comfortable bed and warm body waiting for me at home.

  Several hours later, I gave up. I flung back my covers and pulled on my wool socks, then tucked my sweatpants into the tops of my combat boots. I threw on an extra sweater before shuffling from the room. Determined to ease the cold that had seeped into my bones, I decided to walk the winding staircases all night if I had to.

  On my second round up the grand staircase, candlelight halted my steps. Roslyn’s plump figure was immediately recognizable as she blocked my way, waiting for my approach. “May I ask what you’re doing roaming so late at night?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. Is the Rite finished?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Then why are you back?”

  “Council leaders don’t stay once the activities begin. We leave the fun to the youth.”

  “Well, that’s…” Wrong in so many ways. “Thoughtful,” I finished. “Then Gayle is back?”

  She spun around, moving away. “She’s up in her room, preparing for the election. Although I think she knows it’s a dying hope for her to win. Like the great Three, we too work long hours and are creatures of the night.”

  The dark hid my annoyed glare. “I see. Where’s her room?”

  She waved a jeweled hand above her head. “Second floor, last room on the right. I ask that you respect others’ privacy and not snoop into anyone else’s room.”

  I followed her directions down the east wing of the estate. Light slipped from beneath the door of the only occupied room. I hesitated briefly before knocking.

  “Enter.” Gayle leaned over a desk, examining papers that littered every space of its mahogany top. Her usually calm demeanor was crumpled, along with her gown and her mussed hair.

  “Ava.” She straightened in her seat. Her mouth clamped into a thin line. I pretended not to notice the wall of defense that immediately shot up between us, blocking easy access to her subconscious. Had it been there during our other conversations?

  She went to a mirror on the wall near the window and fixed her hair. “No doubt Roslyn sent you up, and without giving me notice beforehand.”

  “I’m sorry.” I smiled, trying to seem nonchalant, all the while fighting an internal battle not to break down every layer of brick she formed inside her mind. Warnings from The Three pressed against me, but it was hard to respect that line I wasn’t supposed to cross. Already, I tiptoed on the edge of abusing an easy power.

  A black box lay at the corner of her desk, displaying an assortment of jewelry, all with large stones in the center. A deep red stone set in a brooch. Three stoned rings of different varieties, and a turquoise necklace. Gayle’s bracelet lay upon her desk. Its blue surface transfixed my attention. I reached a finger forward, curious to touch its surface.

  “Don’t.” Gayle’s sharp voice brought my attention back. She snatched it from off her desk, slamming it upon her wrist. “It isn’t yours.”

  My gaze narrowed, but I smiled again. “I wasn’t going to take it. I was just curious. You seem to like large pendant jewelry. It reminds me of my mother’s stone, in a way.” Her gaze moved to the Demon’s Eye. “Do they all have significance? This one looks a lot like Roslyn’s ring.”

  “Roslyn doesn’t wear a pendant ring.”

  “I just saw her. She wears a ring with a stone just like this one,” I said, staring down into the glass case. I pointed to the turquoise necklace.

  She side-stepped to the case and glanced at the one I indicated. Her face turned a shade of red, but then she shrugged, moving back to her desk. “As the Mother Witch says, they’re just silly rocks. But they hold value for us. Turquoise is a strong communication stone. As next in line it falls to her to lead. She’ll need all the help she can get.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “What can I do for you?”

  I looked out the mullioned window to the horizon and the forest. A light grew within the thick woods. “The Rite?”

  She noticed my preoccupation and nodded.

  Something familiar, a feeling I couldn’t quite place, tugged at my senses. Silence stretched over the land. I placed a hand over the Demon’s Eye, but no warning sounded from within its depths.

  Gayle joined me at the window, not meeting my gaze, her insides
a swarming vat of anxiety. “Your aura is off. I don’t think you’re interested in the Great Rite. Why did you come here tonight?”

  “Can’t I visit the coven? You once offered it to me as a home.”

  “Something’s changed. I see it in you. Your soul screams for vengeance.”

  A line of smoke drew up to the sky. The bonfire bloomed in the receding dark. A combination of voices blended, dancing upon the low breeze. Countless thoughts merged together, all hopeful for the magic that promised freedom from tyranny that hung upon them like a weight.

  “There’s a dark mood hovering over your coven,” I said, my words surprising even myself. “Why do your witches have such fears?”

  Gayle flinched, her gaze boring a hole into the side of my head, but I didn’t turn to acknowledge her. Before she could answer, a new voice among those of the coven, familiar and strong, drowned out all the others. His arrogant thoughts laughed at the ridiculousness of the ceremony but reveled in their attention.

  I inhaled a rattled breath, then growled out his name. “Jonathan.”

  Shock answered from afar, but I didn’t care if Jonathan heard me or felt my wrath. Anger shook my frame and clouded my vision. “Why is my demon here? You chose him for the Rite?”

  Gayle went still. Even though the blood drained from her face, she lifted her chin in defiance. “He doesn’t belong to you. He’s a willing participant.”

  “You—” My voice cut off as rage took away my breath. “Con.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I laughed, the sound hollow and strange upon my ears. I mentally poked at her subconscious defenses. Her eyes grew large and she scuttled behind her desk, retrieving a knife from the drawer.

  “Your acting skills are very good,” I said. “You had me fooled it was Bailey this whole time that wanted Jonathan. A guard for the coven, was it?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I?” With a wave of power, I broke through part of the fortress surrounding her darkest secrets. Gayle gasped, stumbling into the wall behind her. She grabbed at the fabric above her heart as she gathered her remaining defenses, but it was no use. While it was not everything, I had seen what I needed to see. The truth screamed at me from the depths of her tortured soul. Like my father, she too had made a deal with the Destroyer—a deal with a price too heavy to pay.

  She gritted her teeth. “Get out of my head. How dare you—”

  “You betrayed my mother to the Annihilator,” I said, my voice thick and dry. Triumph and fury battled for control over my senses. I had sought the traitor, but now that I had her, I didn’t know what to do with her. I swallowed against the anger lodged in my throat. Energy pulsed from my very core.

  Rebellion flashed across her features. Anger strengthened the wall she had built to hide her betrayals, and she blocked me out. She pointed the blade at me, accusing. “You don’t know a thing about betrayal! We were left defenseless!” Her knuckles whitened against the grip of her knife. “I had to do it, or they would’ve killed us all. The Mother Witch refused to give us the powers we needed to fight, to defend the witches under my protection.”

  My mental barrier cracked. I didn’t know if the power was there all along, but now it felt as natural as breathing and I relished in its glory. My heart spiked to a painful degree. With a clench of my fist, I imagined squeezing her windpipe, halting her breath. Fear flashed in Gayle’s eyes and a painful rasping issued from her mouth. She pawed at her throat with her free hand. Her white-knuckled grip shook as she forcefully kept her blade pointed at me—her enemy.

  Something dark within me snarled, eager to cause pain, eager to end the traitor’s life…

  A picture of me, seen from my enemy’s point of view, clouded my vision. A monster looked back, on the verge of losing its mind.

  And I released the connection, sobered. I dropped my hand, taking a step away. “Tell me everything,” I said through clenched teeth. “Or I’ll get the truth my own way.”

  Gayle clasped the back of her chair, coughing through rasping breaths while I regained control of my senses.

  After several seconds, she spoke. “All the Annihilator required was information. I didn’t want to do it, but your mother was already dying. I didn’t know she was being poisoned.”

  “And so you thought you’d just put the last nail in the coffin?”

  Red-rimmed eyes glared at me. “The Destroyer’s forces were pressing on us. The Fallen had already killed several members of my coven.”

  I eyed the weapon in her hand. “From what I gathered, your coven sought the Destroyer first. No one makes a deal with the Destroyer and lives,” I said, using Jonathan’s words.

  Pride swelled in her heart. “I realize our mistake, but none of this would’ve happened if the Mother Witch would have granted us what we wanted! We only desired more power to do good.”

  It was what Fiona had said before about her very first student. The hunger for power grew too strong and the gifts she had were not enough. It was like a sickness—a disease. I spoke through clenched teeth. “What you ask for is not Fiona’s to give.”

  “That’s not true.” She clenched her hands into fists, but then checked herself. Her fingers nervously flickered to her throat. “But when she refused to ask… we went to another source.”

  “And realized the cost was too great,” I finished for her. “How many of you have made this deal?”

  She hesitated before continuing. “There were six of us. I stopped the Fallen and the more zealous members—”

  “You mean you killed them. How many?”

  “All of them. And the witches attached to them.” She swallowed hard. “Our first arrangement opened us to attack. Then the Annihilator came forward and presented a solution. She could not fully stop the Destroyer or his Fallen, from coming after me, but she could offer me time.”

  “Time?” The word echoed in my brain. I had been offered the same thing, but by someone else.

  “Every year The Three were without the Defender, we were safe. But now all of that has been revoked. Because of you.”

  I lifted my chin. “You once offered to protect me from the Annihilator and her new boyfriend. Were you just going to hand me over to them?” Her mouth snapped shut, refusing to answer. I pinched the bridge of my nose, slowing an oncoming headache. “And now you use my demon? As what?”

  “A hope for the future. Whatever offspring is created from tonight’s bond will defend us.” She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. “Jonathan will protect his offspring from harm, and his child will grow to be a powerful being.”

  “That is your solution to this mess? You put a lot of stock into a very risky venture. He’s a demon. What makes you think you can trust him?”

  She thrusted her blade for emphasis. “You trust him.”

  I leaped across the desk, seizing her weapon from her hand. I twisted her collar in a tight fist. “Stay away from him,” I growled.

  Fear drained the blood from her face, but conceit set in. “Have you taken away his freedom too? I know that you have mated—have taken Darius as your Guardian. Congratulations. You have sealed your fate.”

  I brought my face closer to hers. “And so have you.”

  “There’s nothing you can do.”

  “No, but Fiona can. She holds that power.” I shoved her away, a little too hard. Her back smacked into the wall, causing the mirror to shatter to the ground.

  “You can’t—”

  But before she could speak another foul word, I snapped my wrist, throwing her knife. It impaled the wall next to her head. The sharpened edge nicked the side of her ear, but the witch didn’t flinch.

  “Be careful what you say next, Gayle.” My breath rose and fell in angry waves. “It might be against the rules for me to kill you, but I know a certain demon that will be very interested in knowing the truth of what you did to her immortal.”

  Gayle straightened. “I didn’t kill your mother.�
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  “You might as well have.” I turned my back to her, taking measured steps to the door. I had to go, to escape this hell on earth before I did something I couldn’t take back.

  Leaving Fiona asleep in her room, I stepped from the estate. Darkness had overtaken the sky. Sharp wind blew, nipping the skin of my face, but I relished its bitter bite opposed to the sting of betrayal until it brought with it more than an icy touch. I looked to the forest where the dimmed firelight glowed eerily from the trees, where witches and my demon played their games. An atmosphere thick of raw excitement and pleasure sickened me to the core. I stumbled away, pushing through the coven gates.

  And I knew he would follow. Knew he would come.

  What once was a breathtaking view had turned dank with fog—a demon’s paradise, but I almost begged for an attack. I would kill them all without hesitation and glory in their destruction. Anger heightened all senses. I picked up the pace, sprinting the two miles, so that by the time I made it to the border, my mind and body trembled with fatigue.

  The portal from this world into the realm of immortals and refugees rippled and glowed as it always did, welcoming me home from a dreary world…

  But I couldn’t go back. Not yet. I dropped my hands to my knees, breathing through tightened lungs and seeking the thoughts of my mate. I was too far away still. I longed to return, but I couldn’t yet. I cursed my stupidity out loud. Leaving Fiona in the middle of the night, and at a coven of witches, had been irresponsible and dangerous.

  I spun around, retracing my path, ignoring the entity that waited in the low fog that had settled. Jonathan had kept far enough away not to be detected by sight, but now he prowled the field, coming closer.

  I huffed a breath. “You always said you would betray me.” The words echoed staccato and painful in my ears. “I just didn’t realize it would be in this manner.”

  “What are you talking about? And what are you wearing?” he asked, his voice an eerie whisper in the dense mist.

  I disconnected from the waves of thoughts that crashed over me, threatening to drown me, and tempered my feelings enough to appear calm.