Legacy & Spellbound (35 page)

They faced each other for a long moment, circling warily. Veronica could feel the heat of the fire as it spread to other parts of the basement. It was licking at the roof of the room in the corner. She tried to edge nearer to the stairs and safety. There was a popping sound, and it was followed by a far-off scream.

Maybe someone will find us,
she hoped. Suddenly Marc shouted, and the room began to disintegrate around her, turning into a whirling dervish of tools, cans, and wood. She ducked as the lantern whizzed through the air where her head had been.

She took a step backward, and the backs of her ankles hit the stairs. He started toward her. There were more shouts from upstairs.

Part of the ceiling in the corner collapsed in a
shower of sparks. The door to the basement opened, and she heard a man shouting, “The fire's down here!”

She turned and ran up the stairs as fast as she could, with Marc on her heels. He reached out and grabbed the hem of her robe, and she heard the rending of cloth. Part of her skirt ripped free, and she burst past the man at the top of the stairs who had shouted.

He swore under his breath and then yelled, “Lady, what's happening?”

She ignored him and kept running. She hit the front door and burst outside into the fresh air. Her lungs were burning, and she felt like her heart would explode from her chest. More shouts began to come from the hotel behind her, but she didn't look back.

She kept running until the night had swallowed her.

Marc Deveraux tried to fight off the arms of those who were holding him back, asking him questions about the fire. He seethed, ignoring them. The witch had gotten away. He held the piece of skirt that had ripped free in his hand and rubbed it slowly between his thumb and forefinger.

Heat, which had nothing to do with the flames that were beginning to engulf the hotel, filled his being.
Veronica Cathers, we will find you, Isabeau,
the voice in his head sobbed.
Come back, my love. Come back.

Tri-Coven: Seattle

The band—Kari, Tommy, Amanda, and Nicole—left Barbara behind in the motel to inspect the ruins of the cabin. Though they hoped to discover more survivors, death hung in the charred landscape like a pall. The twilight sucked whatever color might have been left, and they walked in an alien landscape that mirrored Amanda's notion of limbo.

Amanda found Silvana lying at the edge of the trees. Her eyes were fixed wide, her face frozen in terror. She fell to her knees beside her. For years, Silvana had been her best friend. She and her aunt had come to help when all the craziness had started. Now, she was gone—they both were.
They are dead because of me.

She balled her hands into fists. No, not because of her—because of Michael Deveraux. His evil had brought pain and death upon them all.

She could not tell what had killed Silvana. She reached down and lifted Silvana's head into her lap. Something sticky coated her hands. She began to wretch when she realized the cause. The back of Silvana's head was gone.

Rage ripped through her. Silvana had not deserved to die. A shout from Tommy pierced through her fog of pain and brought her to her feet.

He was standing amid the smoking ruins of the
cabin. He was frozen, staring down at something she could not see. Picking her way carefully across the field of debris, she joined him. He was standing in front of a bookshelf that had been snapped in half and fallen in a tepee shape.

There, wedged between and underneath the two halves, was a person. Amanda reached out to touch the bookshelf, but was painfully repulsed. The space was heavily warded. “Is—it—alive?” she asked, not even sure if it was human, let alone whether “it” was male or female.

“I don't know,” Tommy answered quietly. “I couldn't touch it either. We need help.”

“Have you found anyone else?”

He shook his head. “You?”

“I found Silvana's body—what was left of it.”

He grabbed her hand and gave it a fierce squeeze.

“Has anyone else had any luck?”

“I don't know, let's—”

He was interrupted by a loud, keening wail—as if it were an animal's. Tommy shot her a grim look, and they hurried toward the sound.

They found Pablo a little ways off. He was kneeling by a fresh mound of dirt. Two sticks had been tied together with a strip of cloth to form the shape of a cross. The cross had been driven into the ground at
one end of the mound. In the dirt on the mound a pentagram had been drawn along with other symbols unknown to Amanda. She grasped Pablo's shoulder. “Who is it?” she whispered.

“Alonzo.”

The oldest member of the Spanish Coven. Tears stung her eyes. Another dead. Pablo bowed his head and sobbed.

A thought struck her:
If Alonzo is buried, who did it?
A ray of hope shone through.
It must have been Philippe.
He alone of the missing covenates would have thought to adorn the grave with both Christian and Wiccan symbols.

“Pablo!”

The boy looked up, startled.

“Can you sense Philippe? He must have buried Alonzo.”

The boy closed his eyes. After a moment, a look of frustration crossed his face. He put out his hand, touching the symbols marked into the dirt. His eyes flew open, and he nodded eagerly. “Yes, and he is not far away.”

As if on cue, a branch snapped behind them. They whirled around to see Philippe emerging cautiously from the trees. Pablo leaped to his feet and flew to him. Philippe clasped him tight. Amanda approached more
slowly. When she had reached them, Pablo released Philippe, who in turn hugged Amanda.

“It is good to see you.”

“And you,” she told him.

“Armand?” he questioned.

“Safe. He saved Kari as well.”

Philippe sighed deeply, as though a burden had been lifted from him. “And the others?”

“Dan, Holly, and Sasha are still missing. Silvana and Alonzo are dead. Everyone else is alive.”

“Have you heard anything of Nicole?”

She shook her head. “No, not since James and Eli took her.”

Tommy broke in. “We did find someone, or something, in the debris. It's warded, though, and we can't reach it.”

“Show me.”

Minutes later they were all gathered before the broken bookshelf. Armand, Kari, and Richard had joined them, and they all took turns peering into the recess. Finally Philippe observed, “The wards are strong. It will take all of us to break them.”

Amanda agreed. The others, except for Richard, formed a chain with Philippe at one end and Tommy at the other. They began to chant quietly, each in his own way but with a common purpose.

Philippe and Tommy each laid a free hand on one of Amanda's shoulders. She could feel the group's power washing over her and through her.

She took a deep breath and reached through the ward, which had already been weakened by the chanting. She grasped the creature's arms and tugged. The body moved only a little. She tensed all her muscles and yanked. The body flew out and into her arms.

She stumbled backward, and the group caught her. Tommy relieved her of her burden and lowered the body to the ground. It was Sasha.

Everyone pressed forward to look at her. Her eyelids flew open, and everyone jumped back. Sasha gazed up at Amanda and asked, in an eerily normal voice, “What happened?”

Amanda couldn't help herself, she started to laugh. And then, as a portal opened up in front of her and four lumbering gray creatures exited it, she began to scream.

Philippe hurled a fireball in the blink of an eye, but it had no effect on the creature it struck. He threw another and another with no effect. As the group stumbled backward, Amanda threw up a barrier. The first of the creatures hit it, and simply opened a portal on the other side of it.

“What are those things?” Amanda shrieked.

“I don't know, but we have to get away from them!” Philippe answered.

“To the woods, everyone, quickly!” Richard yelled, voice booming.

They turned and fled, the creatures pursuing. Another portal opened in front of Amanda, though, and the creatures just cut them off.

“They're after Amanda!” Tommy shouted, yanking her away from a reaching arm.

“Armand, do something!” Philippe shouted.

The other witch nodded and raised his arms. Suddenly, the creatures stopped. The one closest to Amanda cast its head back and forth as though looking for a scent it had just lost.

“What, what's happening?” she asked in a whisper.

“He's cloaking your energies from the creatures, making it so they can't sense you.”

“But they know there are people here—they see us!” she hissed.

“Yes,” Tommy whispered. “But I think they're only after you.”

“That is correct,” Armand said through gritted teeth. “Now, everyone, just move quietly away. Try not to attract undue attention, and don't distract me!”

They did as he said, moving steadily away from the creatures. Amanda could feel her heart pounding in
her chest.
They're after me! Why not everyone else?
She turned once to look back and saw the creatures standing around, looking for all the world like lost puppies.

“We had the hotel warded, blocking our presence. When we came out in the open, I think they were able to pick up on you and come to where you were,” Philippe said after a brief exchange with Pablo.

Amanda shivered. “Remind me not to go anywhere without Armand again.”

She glanced at Tommy, and his eyes were bulging out. “Anywhere?” he asked, sounding forlorn.

She picked up his hand and squeezed it, appreciating him again. “Well, I'm sure he can block my vibes just fine from the next room.”

Tommy smiled. “That, I can live with.”

“Did anyone see any sign of the cats?” Amanda asked.

“I have not seen them,” Philippe answered. “I saw their tracks, though, I believe they escaped.”

Goddess, go with them,
Amanda prayed.
Lead them to young women who need their strength and guidance.
In her heart she knew she would not see them again, but she also knew, somehow, that they were safe, and that made it a little easier.

The hair on the back of her neck suddenly stood on end, and Amanda swiveled her head to the side. She gasped and stopped in her tracks.

There, his back to a tree, was Dan. He was covered in dried blood, and flies were buzzing around him.

Her father moved quickly to him. “Dead,” he announced, without even touching the body.

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Too much death,” she murmured.

“He must have put up one heck of a fight,” Richard noted.

“It didn't save him, though,” she whispered.

“Come on, Amanda, we have to keep moving,” Tommy reminded her gently as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

When will it all end?
she thought in despair.
And how many more of us will die?

Seattle: Michael Deveraux

Michael Deveraux slammed his fist down on his altar. Bits of broken glass embedded themselves in his flesh. He raised his hand slowly, savoring the pain and the sensation of the blood dripping down his hand to land on the altar. He slowly picked the glass, left over from last night's sacrifice, from his hand.

He knew that members of the Cathers Coven had survived the fire, but his scrying stones, his imp, and all his magic had been unable to locate them yet. That was going to change. What he had planned would not
only enhance his power, it would also give him a unique insight into the workings of the Cathers and their pitiful little coven.

Chittering to itself, his imp appeared in the room. Michael watched it silently for a moment. He had still never discovered the creature's motivation for attaching itself to him. Then again, with imps, one rarely knew why they did much of anything.

“Well?” he asked.

“Everything is ready,” the imp chortled, clearly pleased with itself.

Michael smiled. Seattle was an interesting town, a hotbed of supernatural activity. It was only natural that the Deveraux and the Cathers had both chosen it as home. There were haunted places that made even his hair stand on end.

One of those places was his destination tonight. A delicious shiver ran up his spine, and he took a moment to savor the sensation.

“Is Holly ready?”

The imp jumped up and down, wagging its head in glee.

Michael nodded. “Let's go.”

Holly was in the backseat of the car, heavily tranquilized and drooling slightly. The imp jumped up and
down on her, even hopping up to perch on her head, and she took no notice. Michael glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled grimly. The night sky was clear, and the stars shone brightly. The cursed moon was nowhere to be found. Michael had planned to conduct the rite on a moonless night, better not to have that symbol of the Goddess present. He would have preferred to hold the ceremony when the God reigned supreme in the midday sky, but discretion had dictated that the cloak of night hide him. Thus, when he pulled into the parking lot of the Baptist church, there was none around to see.

He got out of the car slowly, almost reverently. His actions had nothing to do with the current function of the church, but with its older uses. It had once been a Masonic church, and rumor had it that sacrifices, both animal and human, had been made there. He had never been able to verify the identity of those making the sacrifices, but he had seen enough in the walls of the church and in hidden rooms beneath to know that far worse things than human sacrifice had occurred there.

He opened the back door and dragged Holly out. She wobbled when he tried to stand her up, so after a moment he just slung her over his shoulder and, with the imp prancing at his side, headed for the side door of the building.

The door was unlocked—
Christians can be so trusting
—and he slipped inside. Once inside the door, he headed for the usher's closet, trying to avoid touching the pews as he passed them. The closet door was unlocked, and the imp held it open while Michael walked inside, Holly still slung over his shoulder.