THE BAZAAR (The Devany Miller Series) (10 page)

That had been my last year trick-or-treating because I'd refused to go if I couldn't be a fairy.

Okay, I get it. You like fairies. They aren't that nice, you know.

"Don't ruin my childhood dreams," I muttered, still following the darting lights with a hunger I didn't know I still had inside me.

I heard the Coven of the Lotus before I saw them. I'd pictured chanting, a group of thirteen naked females dancing about a circle of ancient stones. Instead, a woman's shrill voice lifted in angry tones and a man's lower voice returned a volley of words.

The argument slowly dwindled as, one by one, they realized a stranger had entered their circle.

An older gentleman looked at me from across a fire-lit clearing. I could see his eyes clearly, which was ridiculous given the distance and the dancing shadows between us. Magic, I guessed. "Do you come in peace and truth?"

I come to supplicate myself before the coven.

"Uh, Arsinua says she comes to supplicate herself before the coven."

No. You say it as you. I am no more. I no longer exist. I cannot supplicate myself.

"Yeah, well I don't plan to supplicate myself to strangers, so ..." I muttered, trying not to move my lips as I spoke. Yes, I could talk with her in my mind, but she seemed so real, so separate from me that I found myself talking aloud to her.

"Zech told us of this strange thing that has come to pass. Our sister, our leader Arsinua, not dead but living inside a Silent One."

Silent Ones are those without the magic in them.

I figured that out, thanks.
Aloud, I said, "Zech asked me to come. I'm not sure how I can help, but I brought Arsinua, so perhaps you guys can ask her your questions and get some answers." I counted their numbers. There were thirteen of them. Replaced Arsinua rather quickly.

We cannot meet with any power without that number. It is not unusual.

'You're the expert. What do you want me to say to them?'

The old man crowded up in front of me. "I sense her, inside you. Darkness and a great well of limitless power." His bushy eyebrows drew together. "What are you? Why aren't you mad with the magic here? Instead you drink it like water, spooling it up inside of you like a coiled snake, waiting for its chance to strike."

"Okay, that was a lot of mixed metaphors, there. I'm just me. An accident caused what you see before you. Not divine fate, a choice, or a spell. Just an accident. Now, I like Arsinua and I'm here because she wished to be here and because I saw the depravity in that so-called Bazaar."

Like an odd new species of worm, that's how he studied me. I looked around at the other faces, most shadowed by the hoods of their capes. I didn't see Zech; he must not have been invited to the party, although it had sounded like he'd be here. "What do you need from me? I have a life I have to get back to."

The older man glanced around at the hooded figures, nodded, and one stepped away from the ring. "We need power. We work tonight to give strength to the Omphalos of Midia, to strengthen the boundaries between our lands and the Wild.”

"I don't understand most of this, but I know I don't like you guys using humans like super cell batteries. So yes, I'll help if I can." The group muttered, offended that I'd lumped them in with those harvesting humans, but frankly, I didn't have the time to differentiate. "What can I do?"

"Come." He held out his hand and after a brief hesitation, I took it. His flesh was soft, doughy, his fingers cool. One after another they joined hands until we made an unbroken circle around the fire. As I watched, the licking orange-red flames burst into a brilliant blue. There were a few gasps other than mine. Nice not to be the only one shocked all the time.

'I take it that's unusual?'

Never have I seen it. Read about it, yes.

"It's a good thing, though. Right?"

Astonishing
. It wasn't an answer to my question.

We began to circle the fire and as we did thoughts that weren't my own or Arsinua's sprung into my head. 'What's happening?'

Your mind and the coven are one. Now that the link has been made, you can share their power. And they can use yours.

A chant rose up from the coven members' lips including my own. I didn't recognize the language, but understood it anyway. We called up power, the chant said, called it from the center of this world. That frigid rock inside me that I'd stopped noticing now grew in importance. It tugged inside of me and I knew the heart was reacting to what we were doing in this circle.

Energy crackled outside the circling backs, sizzling the air and filling it with the smell of ozone. I'd never known what authors meant by the smell of ozone, but the scent was so unmistakably that of electricity and lightning I couldn't believe I hadn't realized it before. My senses came alive in full-on HD. Colors brightened, the shadows faded as if a sun had exploded into existence above us. I could see them and I reveled in the beauty of their faces even as my nose took in the rich soil, the smell of worms in the dirt, the trees, the sap. Power coursed through my hands and I wanted to dance faster, to move better. 

My voice rose louder, the heart singing inside me now, humming with power. Dizzy with it, drunk with it, I circled and chanted, my head thrown back to see what looked like a giant, golden cloud churning above us. I pushed thoughts into that cloud, thoughts of power, thoughts of change, thoughts of peace between our two universes, thoughts of no harm done to people like Yvonne and Jeremy or anyone else unlucky enough to stumble upon this crazy world.

The pace quickened. A frenzied, desperate race to raise even more power.  At once our voices crescendoed, then cut off on a sharp exhalation of breath. We hovered on a precipice. One tiny push would send us over the edge.

The heart pulsed. I felt a snap as if scissors cut an umbilicus that ran between me and the cloud of power above us. A boom like that of a sonic jet vibrated my bones and then the night was night again. Faces disappeared once more into the hoods that had been flung off in the frenzy.

The older man sat down, as if his legs had given way. A few others collapsed as well. I stood panting, feeling more alive than I'd ever felt before. I wanted to do it again and had to bite my lip to keep myself from prodding them to their feet.

We could end world hunger. We could cause a great peace to fall on Earth. I knew we could. That power was astounding. I was drunk with it.

"Arsinua," the man said, softly. "Arsinua. What have you wrought?"

I waited, but my inner companion stayed silent. My giddiness faded. Was he actually upset? Upset by that upwelling of power? They never would have been able to generate anything like it without the heart. I knew because Arsinua knew. But she wouldn't speak—I felt her shame. 

'We did well. We did a good thing, didn't we?'

Yes.

She didn't sound happy about it. I looked down at the man, pale in the firelight.

"That power, it will change things, right?" I needed to hear the affirmation from his lips.

"Oh yes. Indeed, I can feel power in the air right now. The Omphalos is beating stronger even now in my ears. The problem, I fear, will be keeping Yarnell and his bunch from trying to take the power from you."

Oh.

"I'm safe in my universe. Aren't I?" But even as I asked, I knew the answer. Sure, they couldn't use their magic, at least, not in the way they did here. They could still visit, still hunt me down the old-fashioned way. "Shit."

Again, the old man said, "What have you wrought?"

What have you wrought, Arsinua? What indeed?

TWELVE

I
lay awake that night with Tom beside me. He'd convinced me to let him stay in our room and, like a fool, I'd agreed. We didn't talk, but he knew I was awake. I'd hear a sharp intake of breath as if he were going to speak, but a moment later there would be a long exhale. His words were stuck in his throat.

I didn't have anything to say to him. What could I say? By the way, I'm involved in some crazy shit: alternate universes, demons, and an evil witches' coven that might be planning to hunt me down and cut a heart out of me. Ha. Grounds for divorce? Wife's a nut job.

So we lay there, side by side, him thinking of his mundane troubles and me thinking of how out of control my life now was that I actually considered asking a demon for assistance a good idea. That would cost me, I knew it. 

You shouldn't. He'll use it to bind you more securely to him.

'I know, but what choice do I have? I can't let anything happen to my kids.'

I'll keep them safe. Let me hunt. I will kill them.

'Thank you, but I want to avoid mass murder.'

Yarnell won't have the same compunctions as you. He and his group, the Theleoni, they call themselves, look upon humans as cattle. Worse. Objects.

'That makes me feel better.' I rolled over onto my side, staring across the room, wondering if I should go downstairs, get Liam's metal baseball bat, and hide it under my side of the bed.

Let me hunt them. They are bugs. Worse than bugs.

'No. I'm not killing.' Yvonne and Jeremy rose in my memory and my vow not to kill wavered. If I could have saved them, would I have killed to do so? 'Maybe Nex can help. He can see into the future. Tell me what he knows.'

Both my companions were silent. I got the feeling they didn't particularly like Nex. I'm not certain why I did. Floating vampire head and all. Maybe because he symbolized to me my strength. Hell, I defied a demon and lived to see another sunrise.

I rolled again and found myself nose to nose with Tom. He looked uncomfortable and I bit back a nasty question about how he spent his time with Anabelle. Deep breath in and out, forcing the anger away. Honestly, I had to let that go. There was no use wasting my energy on it.

Still. Was I sick, wanting to know? How did he treat her? Did he suck on her neck? Did he do that lovely thing with his finger as he screwed her? I curled my hands into fists and tried to breathe away the rage building inside.

Did he call out her name or use a pet name? Did he cuddle with her after, or did he go to sleep? We'd always cuddled. I hated the thought of him sharing something so intimate, something that had been ours, damn it, ours, with a girl half his age.

"Mother fucker," I muttered, the words slipping out before I could stop myself. Tom's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak but I slapped my hand over his mouth.

"Don't say a word." I swallowed. "I'm a donkey on the edge."

Startled, we both burst out laughing. It had a hysterical edge to it, but it was laughter, and it felt much better than the anger. I laughed until I had tears running down my cheeks. Until my sides ached. Laughed until the tears were real tears and then I rolled into Tom's arms and cried.

I didn't want to find any comfort there, but I did.

Later, I woke to find myself still in the warmth of his embrace. My cheeks were stiff with salt, my ribs hurt. I listened to him breathe and wished there was some magic, some spell that could reverse time. That could roll back the clock to the day before he looked at that other woman and forgot his promise. I longed for the way things were. I longed for a home, a love, a marriage, and a family that wasn't broken.

I longed for it and I cried as that hope died quietly, silently in my heart.

THIRTEEN

I
woke late to the smell of food cooking. Stumbling out of bed, I washed my face and threw on jeans and a t-shirt. Wednesdays were my day off, not Tom's. Why was he home? Downstairs, Tom manned the waffle iron, a pot of homemade syrup bubbling on the stove. Shit. The donkey line from the night before was from Shrek. Donkey loved waffles.

He had hope. But I'd lost mine. Something I never thought would happen. 

Sighing, I took the plate and managed a smile and thank you. I sat beside Liam at the end of the counter so that Tom would have to sit way on the other side with Bethany. I didn't want him to get the idea that I'd changed my mind. Our marriage was broken. The anger had dissipated, though, at least for now. 

I was glad to see that he had on dress pants and shirt. He was going to work. I would have the house to myself, which would give me time to think of how I would defend it, were I to be attacked by ... well, there were so many possibilities. 

The waffles were yummy—blueberry oatmeal—and I had seconds, thirds, and fourths before Tom began giving me funny looks. 

"I'm hungry," I said lamely, trying to ignore Bethany's plate, which still held half a waffle. 

Both kids were ready for school and I was startled by how late it was when they grabbed their backpacks moments later and said their goodbyes.

Tom did too, with another of those looks that spoke volumes of his wishes. Damn it, I shouldn't have laughed with him. Shouldn't have opened my mouth and made that lame-ass joke. Now he would try to patch things up, as if what he'd done could ever be fixed and glossed over. He would push for reconciliation and if I continued to say no, he would consider me the bad guy.