Chapter Twenty-Seven
The late afternoon sun is throwing deep shadows across the lawn as I pull up outside the Western house.
If Callum’s theory about what this family has been doing for centuries is correct, I might as well have tied a big red bow around myself.
Edward must have thought all his Christmases had come at once when Callum showed up with me as his sidekick.
The only positive to hang onto is that he has no idea of my connection to the spirit of Elizabeth, and no idea that connection has supercharged my powers.
At least, that’s what I think has happened, but I don’t know for sure, and I don’t know if it matters.
Because I’ve never used my powers on anything other than a ghost, and Edward Western is very much alive.
I grab my flashlight, rosary, and hip flask full of holy water from the trunk, turn and cast my eyes towards the house.
Then I look down at my old tools in my hands.
I don’t need these props anymore. All I need is inside me.
I toss everything but my flashlight back into the car and slam the trunk closed.
As I step through the imposing iron gates and onto the cobbled path, Mr Rosing emerges from the rose garden. I gasp and take a quick step back, bracing myself, though I don’t know what for.
‘Ms Daniels, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?’
He seems genuinely surprised. Concerned even. Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe I’m wrong about everything.
‘I’m wondering if you’ve seen Callum around?’ I linger by the gate.
He looks puzzled. ‘You think he’s here at the house?’
‘I’m not sure.’ I glance over my shoulder at the shadowy building. ‘But I was hoping to go in and just double check if he’s—’ I hear hurried footsteps behind me, then something sharp stings the side of my neck. My hand flies to my throat. ‘What—?’
‘You are going in, Ms Daniels,’ Mr Rosing says, standing back. There’s a small syringe in his hand. ‘But I’m afraid you won’t be coming back out.’
My knees buckle as the world tilts.
Mr Rosing grabs my arm. ‘The Master knew you would come,’ he whispers in my ear. ‘A woman in love is so predictable.’
I’m sprawled across the dirt floor, the side of my face pressed to the cold ground and my knee twisted painfully beneath me.
I groan.
‘Ms Daniels,’ a man’s voice drawls. ‘Are you with us?’
My eyes flicker open briefly, then I sink back into darkness.
‘Ms Daniels?’ the man says again.
My memory comes rushing back. Mr Rosing. The garden. The syringe. A sedative? ‘What did you do to me?’
‘There you are. I was beginning to think Albert accidentally killed you.’
I carefully shift my aching body and squint towards the voice. Edward Western is leering down at me.
‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist coming back here,’ he says. ‘You hero types are all the same.’
I shrink away from him and his strange eyes and quickly assess my situation. I’m back in the cellar of the Western house with my hands and feet bound. Across the room, Callum kneels in a corner, his head hanging.
I call to him, my voice a scratchy rasp.
He looks up, his eyes filled with sorrow. ‘I’m so sorry, Holly,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry…’
I turn back to Edward Western. ‘What are you going to do to us?’ I croak.
‘Give the poor girl a drink, Albert, can’t you see she’s parched?’
Mr Rosing holds a bottle to my lips, and I drink greedily.
Western shoos him away with a dismissive flick of his hand.
‘Untie me.’ I sound a lot braver than I feel. Everything inside me is shaking like Jell-O.
‘Not until we’ve had a little chat,’ Western says, all politeness.
I peer around him to Callum. ‘Has he hurt you?’
Callum’s eyes meet mine. ‘Why did you come? You shouldn’t have come.’
‘Don’t be an idiot. I’m here to rescue you.’
Western’s laugh chills me to the core. ‘How adorable,’ he says.
I glare up at him determined not to show fear. ‘What are we doing here?’
‘Shall I break it down for you, Ms Daniels, do the big villain reveal? Though I have a feeling you already know what I’m going to tell you.
First, I want young Callum here back in the family fold.
He was stolen from us and hidden for far too long.
And to truly make him one of the family again, I need your power.
Or should I say, Callum needs your power. ’
‘I don’t want anything to do with you, you fuck,’ Callum spits out at his great-uncle.
Western stalks across the room and slaps Callum hard across the face. Callum tumbles sideways, his head smacking into the ground.
‘Stop it!’ I yell.
‘The boy needs to learn some manners if he’s going to be one of us,’ Western says coolly.
‘The fact is, Ms Daniels, your gift won’t work on me, because I’m human, for the most part.
So, this is how it’s going to go. You will voluntarily offer your powers to me, which I will then transfer to Callum, and your death will be painless.
One dead witch, one immortal Western. If you choose to fight me, I will slit your boyfriend’s throat in front of you and let you live just long enough to watch him bleed out. ’
‘You won’t,’ I say. ‘You want Callum.’
‘He is no good to me like he is, and you both know all my secrets now. I can’t let the two of you walk out of here happily-ever-after.
’ A cold smile splits his face, and I shudder.
‘Of course, I would prefer for Callum to survive. I have so little family left, and he’s my great-nephew, after all.
It would be such a shame to waste what could be a promising future.
My guess is you’d rather he survives too.
I mean, Holly – may I call you Holly? What do you have to live for?
No one cares about you. Why would they? You’re an abomination. A freak.’
‘Don’t listen to him, Holly,’ Callum calls out. ‘You have your family. You have me.’
‘So very touching,’ Western jeers.
‘Why don’t you just take my power?’ I say. ‘Isn’t that what your family does, steal power from others?’
‘We don’t steal, we procure, and I’ve already tried that. You would not release them to me, even when you were close to death.’
I suck back a sharp gasp.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Under the oak tree. For a moment I thought I had you. I was ready to taste you, but you just would not let go. I knew then and there that there is something extraordinary inside you. I hoped Callum himself would have better luck, that maybe he could convince you to release your gift.’ He grunts out an impatient sigh.
‘My great-great-grandmother assured me she could make him do it. But she underestimated his feelings for you, and overestimated her own power, arrogant creature that she was. I’m pleased you sent her to hell, or wherever she ended up.
She was of no further use to me. Just an ugly, narcissistic presence tarnishing my magnificent home. ’
I take a furtive glance around the room. There must be a way out of this. I need time to think. He likes to talk about himself. I’ll keep him talking.
‘What are you, then? You said you’re mostly human?’
‘Something so old there isn’t a name for it.
We’re worshippers of the Poculum Vitae, the transformers of life’s essence into power.
You could call us psychic eaters. Like soul eaters…
but with less soul.’ He chuckles at his joke.
‘In better times, we were revered by religious men, who sought our help to control what they saw as evil. That would be people like you – the ones they didn’t understand.
We sucked those poor souls dry. Slowly, the powers we consumed changed us.
They made us stronger and more beautiful, allowing us to live longer.
We became better than human. Once we truly understood what we could become, we left the fools of the church behind.
People like you have brought us a great deal of wealth and influence over the years. ’
‘You do this for money?’ I roll my eyes. ‘That’s kind of pathetic.’
Western bristles. ‘Don’t forget the immortality, Holly.
You’ll be dead soon, and your essence will swirl through Callum’s being.
For centuries, the abilities we have seized have nourished us, prolonged our lives, given us power.
History has been shaped by us. We came to the Americas to make this place ours, just as my ancestors had with Europe.
But we underestimated this fledgling country’s thirst for justice.
In more recent times, the law has thwarted us.
Getting away with murder has become so bothersome. ’ He sighs extravagantly.
‘So, my family crumbled, a dying lineage from a dead world. Imagine my joy when I discovered that one of my brother’s children had a son.
That is how the legacy is passed, you see, through the sons.
Here was a second chance to rebuild my family’s birthright.
My brother Cillian was a fool, weak and afraid of power.
He raised his daughters to fear their own blood, poisoning their minds against their family.
But in the end that worked against them, because it meant they failed to tell Callum who he really was.
’ He turns to Callum and smiles. ‘I managed to eliminate your parents, but Aideen snatched you up before I could get my hands on you. That woman could have been such a gift to this family. But if she really wanted to protect you, she should have told you who you are.’
I feel Callum’s rage burning from across the room. He tries to stand but falls back to his knees, flinching in pain.
‘You killed my parents?’ His voice is eerily quiet.
‘Not me personally. Albert saw to that. He found just the man for the job – a man with terminal cancer and medical debts he could never hope to repay. He needed money for his family. So we took care of them, and he got in his car and took care of your parents.’