Witch & Curse (50 page)

His aid bowed and left. Within moments he ushered a tall, dark-haired man into the chamber, then left, closing the door behind him.

“Your Majesty,” the stranger greeted, dropping to one knee.

James gestured for the man to rise, leaning forward eagerly to hear what he had to say “Rise, good sir. Tell me who you are and why you have come.”

The man did as he was ordered, but bowed his head with great humility and announced, “My name is Luc Deveraux, Your Majesty. I am here because I have come to understand that we have a common enemy.”

James lifted a brow. “And who might this unfortunate be?”

“She is called Barbara Cahors.”

The king was mildly disappointed. That was no one whom he knew. “The name means nothing to me.”

“It will soon, your majesty,” Luc Deveraux said earnesdy, his expression one of great concern and steadfastness, “for she is the witch that of late tried to kill your good lady and yourself.”

James leaned forward farther, eyeing the other man intently.
This is exactly what I have been wanting to hear. And so, I needs must doubt it. Courtiers thrive on pleasing me . . . or rather, appearing to please me
.

With great sternness of tone, he said, “How do I know that you do not have some personal vendetta against this woman and thereby seek to bring her to ruin by my hand?”

“But I
do
have a personal grievance,” Deveraux
assured him. “That I do, sir, and I stand by my accusation.”

The king and queen both attended the burning of the witches. Barbara Cahors and her handmaid had been lashed to great pyres, found guilty of the crimes of witchcraft and the attempted murder of the royal couple. Luc Deveraux was also present, close enough that Barbara could see him, far enough away that she could not easily identify him to the soldiers guarding her.

A smirk touched his face as he watched the hem of her skirt catch fire. Soon the witch would burn, like so many innocent women had before her. Barbara was far from innocent, though. He had traced her to this place with great effort. Spies and magic spells had revealed to him all the remaining members of the Cahors Coven. Barbara was one of several whom he planned to kill. The destruction of his enemy brought him great joy. Perhaps at last the House of Deveraux would be rid of the House of Cahors.

His victory was not entirely complete, though. Barbara's young daughter, Cassandra, had escaped, and though he had combed the countryside, he had been unable to find the child. Without her mother to train her, though, the girl might never come to fully realize her
powers. Regardless if she lived or died, the back of House Cahors was broken, and Deveraux was ascendant.

James: London, November

At the headquarters of the Supreme Coven, Sir William looked up as his son, James, strode into the room. The young man stood before him, barely paying the proper respect. Excitement and arrogance streamed from the young pup like musk.

“Father.”

“So, you have returned. Were you successful?”

James smiled. “More than expected.”

He turned, and a young woman was escorted into the hall. Though her hands were bound behind her, she bore herself with grace, standing tall. Sir William breathed deeply. He could smell the fear coming off her, but otherwise she masked it well.

“Father, allow me to introduce Nicole Anderson, my fiancée.”

Holly: Seattle, November

After Silvana and Kialish left the hospital, Holly, Amanda, Tommy, and Kari stood around awkwardly, angrily, very much at odds with one another. No one spoke. Tommy looked on helplessly, unable to comfort Amanda or the other two.

It fell to Tante Cecile to break the silence. She said to the others, “We must hold a Circle and ask the Goddess our best course of action—whether or not Holly should go to save Jeraud. We have the ability to seek guidance, and we should.”

Holly's lips parted to protest.
What if she says no?
It occurred to her that although she had served as High Priestess for months, she had not really yielded herself to the Goddess. She had looked on the success of their magic spells almost the same as if they had been performing successful lab experiments in chemistry class. The thought of laying down her will was terrifying.

Tante Cecile looked straight at her as if she was reading her thoughts. Slowly she nodded. “You have just reached the threshold,” she said. “You're on the brink of truly reclaiming your birthright, Holly.”

Holly swallowed hard. Her chest was so tight she couldn't breathe. Amanda frowned, puzzled, and Kari said anxiously, “What are you two talking about? You're speaking in secret code.”

A great fear washed over Holly. In the midst of the chaos and confusion, she was overwhelmed.
If I do this—agree to really put myself in Her hands—I will be different for the rest of my life. What if my Goddess is a ruthless lady? What if allegiance to her is what made the Cahors before me so brutal?

“It's still your choice,” Tante Cecile said. “You can turn back.”

“We'll give Kialish tonight to grieve,” Holly said. “Then we'll hold Circle tomorrow night and I'll go before the Goddess.” She said to Amanda, “I can't let you lead the coven. It's my responsibility.”

“You still can't go to him,” Amanda said icily in reply. Tommy put his arm on her shoulder, and this time she shrugged it off, as if she weren't really paying attention to what he was doing and needed to be left alone.

His look of disappointment spoke volumes to Holly.

“We'll ask the Goddess what to do,” Tante Cecile soothed. “We'll have a Clearing and a Knowing.” She sighed. “If we're lucky.”

Amanda and Kari both moved a bit away, Kari folding her arms. She was still an outsider, still not fully committed to sharing her lot with the others. And she loved Jer, and hated Holly for leaving him to burn in the Black Fire.

“Tonight,” Tante Cecile said, “we should stick together. Whose house should we sleep in?”

“Girls! Thank God you're all right!”

Uncle Richard hurried across the threshold of the conference room as the ever-helpful woman in bright scrubs pointed the four out to him. His face
was radiant with relief; he looked more alive than Holly had seen him since Aunt Marie-Claire's death.

“Daddy!” Amanda cried, and raced toward him.

“I think we should go to their house,” Kari said, and Tommy nodded. “Richard won't want Amanda to go out again, and I sure as hell don't want to hold Circle at my place.”

Holly nodded, agreeing.

Tante Cecile pulled her cell phone out of her purse and punched in a number. She waited, murmuring, “Come on, Sylvie, pick up. Ah.” She brightened. “Sylvie, it's Mom. Listen—”

She caught her breath, her eyes widening. Then she gasped. “No,” she whispered. “No!”

Holly grabbed the phone out of her hand and pressed it against her ear.

“If you want to see her again, you'll give up Holly to me,” a voice was saying.

Michael. He's kidnapped Silvana
.

Tante Cecile sought refuge in Kari's arms, who, though not a warm person, enfolded her in a strong embrace and asked, “What's going on?”

“Do you have Kialish, too?” Holly demanded.

“Oh, no,” Kari whispered. “He's kidnapped them?”

Tante Cecile shut her eyes tightly and began to chant in French.

“Why, Ms. Cathers, how nice to hear your voice,” said Michael with syrupy sarcasm. “Of course I have Kialish, too. Do you know where his father is? Because I've tried repeatedly to reach him.”

“Where do you want to make the exchange?” she said flatly.

Tante Cecile stopped chanting; Kari whispered, “No, you can't do that,” but Holly saw the flicker in her eye that said,
Maybe you should, Holly. Maybe that would be payback for Jer
.

“On the water, of course,” Michael said, obviously relishing his position.

“When?”

“I would say two nights hence.”

“Why not sooner?” Holly asked.

“Patience, Holly.” He chuckled. “Oh, and . . .”

“Yes?”

“I probably won't give them back to you alive.”

Then he hung up.

Holly and Amanda had still not clued in Uncle Richard, and when the group converged on their house he was unhappy about it. He wanted his daughter and his niece home alone with him, and safe.

After a few minutes of settling in, Tante Cecile wove a spell on him, making him very sleepy. Then
she sent him upstairs to go to bed.

Once he was out of the way, she turned to the others.

“We are in a state of siege,” Tante Cecile said as she plaited her hair into corn rows, adding beads of silver and turquoise.

The cats patrolled outside, the trio of Cathers witch familiars moving with boldness and stealth. Amanda and Holly had begun to understand what familiars could do, and what they were: magical extensions of a witch's abilities and intentions—confidantes, in a subverbal way, and companions.

As the familiar of a witch who had abandoned her coven, Hecate hung back, deferring slightly to the others. She also tried harder: since then, she hunted birds on the grounds of the Anderson mansion and rodents in their basement with the fervor of a crusader in the Holy Land.

Bast, the familiar of the pivotal witch of the family, reappeared in the living room as if to announce that the perimeter was secured.

It was then that Tante Cecile looked first at her, and then at Holly. Her face clouded; she turned away once, then turned back.

“Holly, in the kitchen?” she asked.

Holly followed her.

Tante Cecile leaned up against the island in the
center of the kitchen and said, “You need to feed the water, child. Your magic will be stronger.”

“I'm sorry?” Holly asked, as a chill broke out along her shoulders and up and down her spine. “What do you mean?”

Tante Cecile hesitated. “In the old days, in many religions, there were . . . sacrifices.”

“Yes,” Holly breathed. “So I've heard.”

“Giving something to the water means that you sacrifice it . . . by water.”

Holly waited, not getting it. Bast began to weave in and out of her legs, purring and flicking her tail.

“You drown them,” Tante Cecile said.

The
voudon
glanced down at Bast, who mewed sweetly at her, then returned to her business of stroking her mistress with her tail.

NINE

NINTH MOON

Nothing now can block our path
The world trembles at our wrath
Murder, kidnap, torture, and lies
Dark hearts beneath darker skies

Crying now within the night
Waiting for the moon's great light
Maiden whispers low and still
Commanding us to go and kill

Holly: Seattle, November

Holly couldn't kill Bast.

So she killed Hecate instead.

She put it from her mind as she did it—the way the beautiful cat stared up at her as she placed her in the bathtub . . .

. . . the way she struggled.

It was as if Holly wasn't really there. She shut herself down completely, neither seeing, nor hearing—not
feeling anything. From a hard, dark place in the center of her being, she took the life of Nicole's cat and offered it to darker spirits than she had ever called upon before.

They answered; the act allowed them access, and their presence swept a cold wind through her bones and her heart. From head to toe she was chilled, frightened, and ashamed; she had done something she could never take back, on her knees beside the tub in the darkened bathroom, with one single black candle for company.

Outside the house, Bast and Freya threw back their heads and screamed in fury and despair; they would have wakened the dead, but they could not awaken Amanda and the others, because Holly had put them all into a deep, dreamless sleep. The cats flung themselves at the front door, and at the ground floor windows, livid with her, begging her to stop. Her face a cipher, her heart a stone, she gave to the water something precious, demanding—not asking—the Dark Ones to protect her coven and give her the strength to save Kialish and Silvana.

When it was over, she was different, and she knew she would never be the same again. Her gaze was steadier, her smile less sweet. Ambition and determination had supplanted her goodness; now she had purpose and passion, but she wasn't certain that she was still lovable.

After Hecate was dead, Holly stumbled into her heavily warded bedroom and slept for thirteen hours.

Amanda told her later that she had tried every spell she knew of to awaken her, finally asking Kari and Tommy to go to Kari's for some books she had there, and asking Dan to come and help her and Tante Cecile.

The shaman and the
voudon
had known instantly what she had done, but they didn't tell Amanda. All they told her was to do nothing and let Holly rest.

Holly's dreams were troubled, boiling over with flames and dark waters, monsters that swam out of the chambers of her heart and demons devouring her soul. She dreamed of her parents, waterlogged and dead; she dreamed of Barbara Davis-Chin, still in the hospital and near death. Everyone she loved was cut off from her by a barrier of shiny obsidian black; everyone she hated was pointing at her and laughing.