The Awakening (42 page)

Finn felt instantly defensive again. “I didn't kill the girl in Boston.”

“Probably not,” Sean agreed.

“But,” Lucian said, “you were there. And you felt the power, forcing you to stop in Boston. And you awoke in the morning—having lost hours of time.”

Finn shook his head vehemently. “That doesn't matter. I don't believe that this mind control can make a person do something so horrible. I'm not a killer.”

“Someone killed her,” Lucian began.

“Not me!” Finn insisted furiously.

“Lucian isn't saying that you did murder her,” Jade said. “Just that you were meant to be there when she was killed. That way, others would be suspicious of you.” She exhaled.

Jordan Riley, a petite woman, but one with incredible dignity when she stood, spoke up calmly. “The big pot of coffee is done.”

“Coffee. I think I need a straight shot,” Megan muttered.

Jordan smiled. “Yes, but coffee is what we need right now.” She extended her hand and Finn saw what they had all been doing around the table.

Jade had somehow managed to “borrow” a large bundle of books from Eddie Martin's shop. “We need to get every clue out of this that we can.”

Ann Beaudreaux headed toward the kitchen. “I'll bring in the coffee. Please, don't despair when you see the amount of work we've got to get through. Tara and I are cousins . . . our grandfather is a part of the Alliance as well, and he is Paris now, a bit too old to travel well, but he has a wealth of research material on the occult. He'll be working on this as well.”

“I've got to go,” Rick said suddenly. “Old Andy has been left alone at the hospital too long now as it is.”

He inclined his head toward Finn and Megan, and excused himself to get out the door.

Lucian indicated chairs at the kitchen table. “Have a seat. We're going to start by going through everything that has happened since you've come.”

Megan looked up at Finn. He stared back at his wife and shrugged. “What else are we going to do?”

“This has to be one of our dreams,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Neither one of us is waking up,” he told her ruefully.

“First off, this is very confusing,” Jade said, ushering them to their chairs. “We know that certain rituals call for a blood sacrifice, hair, perhaps an object belonging to the person, and blood of ‘the anointed.' We know that Megan lost a bracelet; a Halloween decoration at the hotel relieved you both of some hair. Finn—you were cut by a dragon in Morwenna's shop.” She hesitated. “And Megan, you dreamed about walking in the woods at night, then awoke to find that you had cut your foot, and that it appeared as if you'd really been walking through dirt.”

“What?” Finn demanded.

Megan looked at him. “I didn't want you to know. I didn't want you to worry any more than you already were.”

“They have everything then!” he murmured, threading his fingers through his hair.

“Except us. They don't have us!” Megan reminded him.

“They don't have us,” he agreed softly.

He looked around at the group surrounding them. Great. He'd been afraid to trust anyone in the area. Anyone.

So here they were now, surrounded by . . .

Monsters.

An alliance. What did they call themselves? Good monsters? Monsters ‘R' Us?

It all had to be a nightmare.

“I think,” Tara said, “that Jade's discovery of your name in the old texts is very important, maybe a key to the whole thing, Finn.”

He shook his head. “I don't know anything about any ancestors having been here in the sixteenth or seventeenth centuries. And we know that Megan's were.”

“The warning Andy Markham had was for Megan,” Ragnor pointed out. “ ‘Bac-Dal wants you.' ”

“But we still have the Douglas name in the records,” Jade said. “And that could mean one of two things.”

“All right, shoot,” Finn said.

“The first is that your ancestor might have been part of the Alliance at that time—it is a loose-knit organization that has been in existence since . . . well, the beginning of time, probably. People really only come in contact with one another when it becomes necessary,” Tara told Finn.

“I still don't believe I had an ancestor back here then,” Finn protested.

“Right. And before this week, did you believe in demons, vampires, or werewolves?”

Finn shrugged, and almost smiled. “Point taken.” He looked at Jade. “You said that there were two possibilities. What is the other?”

“That you are really the one chosen by the demon, you were manipulated to kill the girl in Boston, and you are the evil meant to steal the life and soul of your wife.”

 

 

Morwenna was hysterical.

There was nothing on television except for news regarding the fire at the hotel.

Amazingly, no one had been trampled or burned to death. Dozens of people had reported to the local hospitals suffering from smoke inhalation.

That was all to be expected.

What drove her to distraction was the fact that police were looking for Finn and Megan Douglas, who had disappeared, and were wanted for questioning in regard to the fire.

Despite the fact that it was three
A.M.
and she'd had almost no sleep lately, she couldn't allow herself to wallow in fear and anxiety. She had to be productive, move, do something.

She paced in her bedroom.

Finally, Joseph let out a sound of vast impatience. “Morwenna! Obviously, they're hiding out, lying low.”

“Something has happened to them, someone has them. I know it.”

“Maybe they're running, knowing full well that the law is after them.”

“Finn lit the fire!” Morwenna exclaimed suddenly. “That bastard. There's something wrong with him. I've known it . . . he lit the fire. He's going to kill my cousin.”

“Morwenna, the cops are looking for them.”

“Everyone is looking for them,” Morwenna muttered, glancing at her husband.

“I need some sleep,” he said.

She bit her lower lip, staring at him. “Sorry,” she said.

But she didn't get back into bed. She ran to the shop, keyed it open, and gathered supplies. Then she headed down to the basement, and her altar there.

She arranged herbs upon the altar, and took out her book of spells. She closed her eyes, praying fervently.

In time, images formed in mind. Trees, swaying beneath the moon. Natural carpets of green grass, leaves, trees. Paths lit by stars.

Tinged by fog.

Very low fog . . .

Creeping slowly across the terrain, as if the fog were a personality itself, as if it looked, searched . . .

She froze suddenly in the midst of her deep concentration.

Someone was standing behind her.

She felt the chill against her neck.

She turned, lifted her chin, seeing who had come.

“I know where they are,” she said.

“Really?”

“And there's no time. I've got to get to Megan.

 

 

“My God!” Megan breathed.

The group around the table stared up at her.

She shook her head. “I'm sorry . . . I was reading a factual account about Catherine Montvoisin, La Voisin, as they called her. For years she arranged for ‘black' masses during the Sun King's reign in France, and apparently, half of the aristocracy wound up involved. She had a home for unwed mothers, and the infants were sacrificed at the altar and their blood was dripped over the attendees so that they might achieve their goals through the power of Satan. The king's favorite mistress, Madame de Montespan, was reputed to have allowed her body to serve often as the naked altar of living flesh for the proceedings.”

Lucian looked up at her, a grim twist to his lips. “La Voisin went to the flames, singing,” he said. “And it's true, if you look at history, the monsters you'll find in human form are endless. Gilles de Rais was a soldier, a statesman, a warrior who stood at the side of Joan of Arc, and then he went on to murder hundreds of children—a crime he confessed rather than face the torture before execution.”

Finn slammed his own book shut. “I found chapters on Anton Szandor LaVey, the Black Pope—who defended Satanism and condoned no acts of violence,” he said, shaking his head. He stared at Lucian. “We're finding nothing here to help.” He hesitated. “I admit that I am reeling; it's still incomprehensible to believe that you all what you say you are, and I don't understand how that can be, or what your Alliance can be, but . . . this is simply insane. The best thing to do, I believe, is simply get Megan out of here. Get her as far away from these people as possible, whether they're planning a blood sacrifice, or the real rebirth of a demon.”

There was silence for a moment as they all looked at one another.

“He could be right,” Tara said softly.

“Maybe a few of us should just start getting both of them out of here,” Jade said to Lucian.

Lucian hesitated. “I'm not sure why, but . . . I don't think that will help us.”

“If they don't have Megan, they can't shed her blood,” Finn said flatly.

“Perhaps you're right,” Lucian said slowly. “But . . . you mustn't go unarmed against these people.”

“You're going to get us guns?” Megan said.

“I don't think that guns will do you much good,” Lucian said. “No, there are other weapons. Keep reading; give me an hour, and I'll return.”

He rose. Jade frowned, looking up at her husband.

“Keep reading. Our greatest power is going to be in what we know,” he said. “Ragnor, if you'll come with me?”

The tall man rose, watching Lucian thoughtfully.

“What is your plan, Lucian?” Tara asked.

“I think we need to keep an eye on our friends and neighbors,” he said lightly. “I'll need his help. I have to break into a church, you see.”

Finn rose as well. “I'm coming with you.”

“Finn, perhaps you shouldn't,” Megan murmured uneasily.

But Lucian studied him, and seemed to come to a firm conclusion. “Actually, I could move much faster without you, but . . .”

“You could be recognized and arrested,” Megan persisted.

Finn walked over and kissed her lips lightly. “It will be all right.” For a moment, he seemed uncertain himself, but then he said, “You'll be all right, as long as you're here.”

Jade came over and set a hand on Megan's shoulder. “Finn will be all right with Lucian.”

Then Finn frowned as if doubtful. “Megan—”

“I will be fine here,” she said.

“Stay with these . . . people.” He gave the last word just a bit of hesitation.

“Let's go,” Lucian said.

 

 

Martha watched the news, feeling ill. She hadn't been able to go back to sleep.

She hesitated a long time, watching the story repeat, repeat, and repeat again.

Then she stood. It was time to go out again, come hell or high water.

Megan yawned. She glanced at the clock over the mantel. Six in the morning. Light would be coming soon.

They were no longer gathered around the table, those who remained. Sean Canady sat at a laptop, sipping coffee and studying the files he brought up, barely blinking. Occasionally, he would say something to Ann, who would come over and follow his train of thought, and refer again to one of the many books they had. Jordan had curled up on the sofa with a number of ancient pages, while Jade sat at the other end of the sofa, looking at others. Ann and Tara were studying books of spells, while Maggie seemed to prowl the place like a jungle cat, going from the men to the women, making suggestions here and there, and offering insights to their research. Only Brent Malone remained at the table. He'd taken a notepad and was jotting down a list of what had happened, and what they had learned, trying to make sense of exactly what was planned.

Megan sat in the chair facing the fire.

Maggie brought her another cup of coffee, then sat across from her, cradling her own cup and staring at the fire.

“Maggie,” Megan said worriedly.

The other woman looked at her.

“Are they going to be all right?” Megan asked in a whisper.

“They? Who?” Maggie asked. “If you're worried about Finn, believe me, he's safe with Lucian.”

“Actually,” Megan said, “I wasn't worried about Finn at the moment. I was thinking about Lucian, and Ragnor. It's almost light.”