Legacy & Spellbound (23 page)

If one dies while in these other states of consciousness, one dies indeed. This begs the question: Are dreams truly only ever dreams?
—Cesar Phillips, 1874

Fire without and fire within
We'll burn them now and watch them spin
They dance for us, plead and moan
As they burn both flesh and bone

From earth we spin and strain toward sky
Trying to touch Goddess on high
Leave behind this mortal coil
As witchblood now begins to boil

Van Diemen's Land, 1790

“Sir Richard,” the fawning convict murmured as he scraped and bowed at the doorway. The Cockney's clothing was in tatters, and he had lost all his teeth. He was a most disgusting man. But as he had been crippled when he had been arrested back in London—for stealing a loaf of bread—he was no good for farming or cutting timber, and so Sir Richard Moore had taken him on as one of his house servants.

Richard looked up from his letter and raised his brows.

The convict ducked as if a lash had been laid across his back … which it had been, many times, until the creature had learned how to show proper respect to his betters.

“The Abo woman as you wished to see is 'ere.”

“Excellent,” Richard Moore said. “I shall see her in two minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

The convict backed out and then respectfully shut the door.

Richard returned to his letter, which was filled with good news. It was from his young brother, Edward.

We Moores remain in ascendance within the Coven, and it is due in no small measure to the wond'rous magic you have found in that forsaken land to which you have been dispatched. Father awaits your next discovery, as do I.

The Deveraux press on in the Americas, their quest for the Black Fire fruitless thus far. They are the laughingstock of the Coven, and I believe we have naught to fear from that quarter. The Horned God
continues to favor our House and to scorn the sacrifices of the Deveraux. For which I do tender all thanks. E.

“Excellent,” Sir Richard murmured. He refolded the expensive paper and unlocked the top drawer of his desk, where he kept all his private correspondence. Retrieving a bundle of letters fastened with a bright red ribbon, he untied it, added his brother's missive to the top of the stack, and retied it.

He was in the process of replacing the bundle in the drawer when there was a knock on the door.

“Enter,” he said pleasantly.

“'Ere she is, Sir Richard,” the Cockney man announced as he opened the door.

Richard was startled. The Abo woman was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon, and never in his life had he considered that such a gentleman as he would think such a thing. She wore European clothing of fine material—a navy blue dress with a fichu of lace, and a mobcap such as any genteel lady might wear. As she swept a graceful curtsy, his blood was stirred, and he deigned to favor her with an incline of his head.

The Cockney backed out again, and Richard said, “Shut the door.”

The woman regarded him. He saw that her eyes were a very startling green.

“Your name.”

“You may call me Aliki,” she said, and grinned at him coquettishly. “It is the way we say ‘Alice' in my language.”

“There is a joke in that,” he ventured, not following her meaning.

“There will be a famous story of Alice one day, a girl who enjoys adventures in magical places,” she said. “But not yet.”

He regarded her, still uncertain of his place in this conversation. “I see. And will the story be about you?”

She shrugged. “Perhaps. It will be of no import to me, however.”

Feeling a bit put off, he decided to get straight to the point. “I have heard of your powers of witchcraft.”

Saucily she put her hands on her hips. “And I have heard of your interest in such powers.”

He cocked his head. “Have you altered your appearance in order to be more appealing to me?”

She laughed but made no reply. Then she looked around the room and said to him pointedly, “I am tired and thirsty, Sir Richard.”

He summoned the Cockney, who brought a chair and a bottle of Portuguese and two goblets. Sir
Richard poured, and he toasted Mistress Aliki.

She sipped in a most refined way, her gaze over the rim of her goblet quite warm and inviting. Then she settled the goblet against her fichu and said, “I can show you the mysteries of the Dreamtime.”

“Indeed?” He leaned forward, fascinated.

“Indeed,” she promised. “Tonight.”

Tri-Covenate, Seattle

Jer could hear his heart pounding. Whether it was caused by the presence of Holly or his participation in the Aboriginal blood rite, he wasn't sure.

Standing together in the center of Dan's main room, they were wearing simple leather loincloths and, in Holly's case, a T-shirt. Both were barefooted. Kari had insisted that they dress as closely as they could to the Aboriginal custom.

Dan solemnly stepped forward and began to paint on Holly's face. The patterns and lines and symbols were unfamiliar to Jer, but he knew they were Aboriginal in origin. Dan and Kari had spent a long time, each researching in their own way, discovering the secrets of Alcheringa, the Dreamtime. When he was finished with Holly, Dan began to paint the patterns on Jer's face. Jer was acutely aware of how ugly he was, and that the paint only added to the macabre effect.

If he understood everything that Kari was so solemnly telling them, the Dreamtime was the time before history before the creation of the world and man. It was somehow, though, inexplicably tied to the land, and in specific places it resonated more strongly, as though the fabric between past and present was very thin. The Aborigines also claimed that the land told the stories of the early days of creation and that certain landmarks, such as Ayres Rock, were testimony to them.

“The native peoples believe that each place is connected to its history, and it has a physical being and a spiritual being,” Kari finished.

“So it's like an astral plane?” Holly asked.

“Yes, but it is more than that. It's like an astral plane for another dimension.”

“What do you mean?” Nicole asked.

Kari sighed in exaggerated frustration. “If you were simply astral traveling in this dimension, everything you see would be what is familiar to you. You would go outside this house and you would see your neighbor's house, the cars parked on the street. Your spirit is just walking about without your body.

“In the Dreamtime you might see a few familiar landmarks, like the Bay, or a mountain, but it will exist in an entirely different environment. There won't be
houses, or if there are, certainly not like the ones we can see out the window. There might not even be people. It might be populated by creatures we are completely unfamiliar with.”

Holly shook her head impatiently. “Whatever. We'll cope with whatever we come across. We'll just find a way to free Barbara and we'll get out.”

Kari nodded, though Jer recognized an angry spark in her eyes. “Fine. Do it fast—you don't want to spend any more time there than you have to. There's a reason places like this are only dreamed about. Remember, you have to exit where you enter.”

“And that will be somewhere in Australia?” Jer questioned.

Kari nodded. “We really should be in Australia to be trying this, but Barbara is here with us and somehow she's been trapped there, so I figure with the help of a little magic we should be able to send you there too.”

“Anything else?”

“There is one other very important thing: Remember, the mind has power over the body in this arena. Whatever happens to you there, happens to you here. If you cut yourself there, your body will bleed here. If you die in the Dreamtime, you die for real.”

There was silence for a moment. Dan stepped back slowly, his work done.

“All right, let's get this over with,” Holly muttered.

Armand stepped forward and solemnly made the sign of the cross over both of them. Jer felt intensely uncomfortable. He hadn't yet adjusted to the beliefs of the Spanish Coven. Still, he dipped his head in a silent gesture of thanks. After all, they were going to need all the help they could get.

The others stepped away and formed a circle around them, hands joined. Jer and Holly both lay down in the center, their backs on the ground and their heads supported by small pillows. With a word, Nicole cut the lights and Philippe set the candles around them glowing. The smell of incense filled the air, sweet and light.

Jer closed his eyes and began to take long, deep breaths. The others began to chant softly, rhythmically. He willed his spirit to leave his body. His fingertips tingled where they brushed against Holly's. Slowly his mind emptied.

He felt as though he were floating, hovering an inch, just an inch, above his body. He stretched out with his mind and his spirit. A great light rushed toward him, engulfing him, and he gave himself up to it wonderingly. The light started pure and soft and then expanded until it burned his eyes through his closed eyelids. Pain seared through his body, and he heard Holly cry out even as he did.

His eyes flew open. He was standing in the middle of a great desert. The sun burned down so hot that he flinched back, throwing his arm in front of his face. The Black Fire! He forced his heart to stop racing.
It's only the sun.

He turned to look at Holly. She was squinting into the light, her hand up to shield her eyes.

He turned slowly, wondering where exactly they were. He froze halfway around. “Look,” he pointed.

Before them rose a large, square mesa. It towered above the surrounding desert like some mighty giant.

“Uluru,” he said. “Ayres Rock.”

A movement caught the corner of his eye, and they turned together to see something loping toward them. “And, that, I believe, is Yowee.”

The creature was obsidian, shiny and evil-looking. Its eyes glowed like the fires of Hell. It scrabbled toward them on wickedly clawed feet that made no sound. A hot wind flew before it, blowing sand into Jer's eyes. He blinked desperately.

Yowee was the spirit of death.

Holly conjured a fireball and threw it at the creature. It passed right through him as though he were a ghost. Jer threw up a powerful ward and it passed right through.

They turned and ran. Ayres Rock loomed before
them. The desert air made it appear as though they were right at its base, but Jer quickly realized that was not the case. Behind him he could hear nothing, but he didn't dare risk a look back.

Before him he could see the wind that preceded the creature whipping up the sand. The blast became stronger, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He ducked just as a tentacle
—Where the hell did that come from?
—cracked through the air above his head.

He began to zigzag back and forth while still trying to head for the rock. He could hear Holly panting beside him. He couldn't turn to look at her, though, because he was too busy driving his own body forward.

I shouldn't be able to run like this, not with these burned, scarred legs,
he thought.
Maybe I'll stay in this Dreamtime.

It's not such a nightmare for me.

At last they made it to the rock and began scrambling upward, the Yowee following behind.

They reached a plateau and found themselves face-to-face with a beautiful dark-skinned woman dressed in colonial garb.

The woman's eyes were ancient. Her hair was wild, flying about her like a lion's mane. She reached out and touched them both.

Remember, here the mind holds sway over the body.
Her
lips had not moved, but her words sounded clear in Jer's mind.

He twisted, looking down at the Yowee. He closed his eyes, and in his mind he pictured the creature losing its handholds and falling backward to the desert floor. Then he opened his eyes and saw it happen. Holly must have caught on as well, because the creature suddenly exploded in a shower of gore and body parts.

He felt his body slump.
Mind over body. That must be how I was able to run.
Slowly he and Holly turned back to the woman who had helped them.

“Thank you.”

She nodded gravely.

Jer realized that she was connecting with their minds so that they might understand her.

I'm Aliki. I taught Sir Richard Moore the secret of this place. And for my help, he exiled me here.
Her smile was bitter.
It is a just punishment, I suppose.

Holly swallowed. “Then if
you're
trapped… .” She took a breath and glanced at Jer. “A creature sits on the chest of a friend of ours, squeezing her heart. She's been trapped, and—”

The woman raised a hand.
There are very few who know of this place, fewer still who know how to use it. I can help you.

“We would be very grateful,” Holly told her.