Chapter Twenty-One
The following evening, Wynter breezed through the city hall with Cain and her coven as they searched for their allocated seats. The Samhain ball was in full swing. Most people sat at the rows of long-ass tables while others danced to the live folk music.
The decorations were more wicca than Halloween-y. Pumpkins, brooms, candles, and bells were scattered here and there, and some were even used as table centerpieces. The colors orange and black were of course used in the décor—orange to symbolize the dawning of light, and black to represent death and the fading of light.
A bonfire crackled in the middle of the hall. It wasn’t natural, of course, it was a product of magick powered by the element of fire. It was thereby harmless, gave off no smoke, and could be extinguished by the click of someone’s fingers . . . disappearing as if it had never been. Wynter was impressed.
As they located their seats, Hattie glanced around. “No butlers in the buff tonight either?”
She sighed. “These people have no imagination.”
Wynter rolled her eyes. “Sit, perve.”
As they all claimed their designated seats—placing Wynter between Cain and Xavier—she looked up at the Ancient. His tension was visible in the hard line of his jaw. There was little chance of him being fully relaxed. After all, so many of his current plans rode on whether he was able to punch a hole through his cage tonight. She was a little on edge herself.
She suspected that some of the stiffness in his muscles was also due to the anger he hadn’t yet fully shaken off after “the fey incident”, as her coven referred to it. Not even torturing their pals in public earlier had eased his rage.
No doubt sensing she was watching him, Cain met her eyes. He splayed his hand on her thigh and gave it a little squeeze. “You okay?”
She nodded. “But you made me a promise before we left, and I’ve noticed you’re not sticking to it,”
she teased. The promise? That he’d be a lot less tense if she sucked him off.
His lips curved. “I returned a . . . certain favor, though, didn’t I?”
He had indeed eaten her out, making her come with his mouth alone. The orgasm had nonetheless been just as powerful as when he used every sexual weapon in his arsenal. Well, the dude had had a millennia to perfect his skills. They were nothing short of top-notch. “You did. And it was very much appreciated.”
Delilah took a slice of the complimentary pumpkin bread from the basket in the center of the table. “I hope it’s not long before the feast begins. Feeling kind of hangry over here.”
She bit into the bread and groaned. “Damn, this is good.”
Hattie snatched a slice for herself and took a bite. “Mm, very good. Not as good as butlers in the buff would have been, but I suppose I’ll have to take what I can get.”
Wynter sighed. “Why do you always expect to see them at every celebration we attend?”
The old woman shrugged. “It only makes sense that they’d be included.”
“It makes sense that guys would be wandering around naked as the day they were born?”
“It was what the Lord intended when he created us.”
Hattie grabbed the pitcher of apple cider and poured some into each of their glasses. “I was a nudist at one time, you know. Me and my Derek, God rest his soul, gave it a whirl. It was his idea. He wasn’t able to keep it up for long, though.”
“Why not?”
asked Anabel.
“Well, he died,”
replied Hattie. “I had him buried naked, he would have wanted that. It meant we couldn’t have an open casket, of course, but people understood.”
Sighing sadly, she slid her gaze to Cain. “I’ve lost a few husbands in my time. It was tragic that they only lived relatively short lives, but that was evidently God’s plan for them.”
“Or yours,”
said Delilah with a snort.
Hattie notched up her chin. “A divine power of some sort could have intervened on their behalf. None ever did. The only force that came for them was death itself.”
“Did you feel its breath?”
Anabel asked the old woman.
Her hand tightening on her glass, Delilah leaned toward the blonde. “No one feels it.”
Anabel tossed her a teacher-to-student look. “Just because you haven’t personally experienced something doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
“But you didn’t experience it.”
Delilah tapped her temple. “It’s all in your head.”
Hattie turned to the blonde. “Very dismissive at times, isn’t she? And so disapproving. As if it’s her right to sit in judgment over the choices and actions of others.”
“It is not only my right, it is my calling,”
insisted Delilah.
“Because a one-eyed, child-eating, human-sacrificing, bogey-witch said so?”
Anabel let out a derisive snort. “Excuse me if we place no weight in her words.”
As the two females continued to bicker, Wynter exchanged an amused look with Cain. It was as she began to turn away that she caught sight of some witches eyeing him warily. To be fair, quite a few guests were sliding nervous glances his way. It was no doubt thanks to the public punishment he’d earlier administered. Well, it had been pretty brutal. A statement that any who even heard of plans to harm her would be dealt with harshly if they didn’t report it.
A message that had been very clearly received.
Not wanting to think on negative stuff right now, Wynter turned her attention back to the ball. The overall celebration had begun at dusk with a parade that featured lots of lavish floats and scary costumes. Not all magick-users had attended. Some preferred to hold private feasts or even threw by-invitation-only house parties. To each their own.
A loud groan erupted out of Xavier, who glared at Anabel and Delilah. “For the love of all that’s fabulously unholy, can we please be done with the arguing? It’s Samhain. We’re supposed to be celebrating. You’re shitting all over it.”
Anabel folded her arms. “Fine,”
she clipped.
“Fine,”
Delilah bit out.
Xavier rolled his eyes. “Thank you. Oh hey, Hattie, there’s George.”
Hattie tracked his gaze and smiled. “My, my, my, the man wears a suit well.”
She tipped her glass in his direction, and he returned the gesture.
Anabel’s brow pinched. “Who’s the guy next to him? They’re sitting pretty close. Almost intimately close, really.”
Hattie patted the back of her hair. “Ah, well, he’s one of George’s swinger friends.”
Wynter blinked. “Swinger friends?”
The old woman cocked her head. “You don’t know what swinging is?”
“I do, yes. I’m wondering if you do.”
“Well, of course.”
Hattie sipped her cider. “I had a most fascinating introduction to it.”
“Hold on,”
began Delilah, “on top of everything else, you’re into swinging now?”
“A girl should try everything at least once,”
said Hattie. “According to George, the man sitting next to him is into Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. Though why he felt the need to tell me that I don’t know.”
Anabel tipped her head to the side. “Cognitive Behavioral Therapy? He said that?”
“Well, he abbreviated it to CBT, but Xavier explained what it stood for,”
said Hattie.
Her mouth tightening, Anabel rounded on him. “Xavier.”
He laughed silently, his shoulders shaking.
Hattie straightened. “What? It means something different?”
“Cock and Ball Torture,”
explained Delilah.
The old woman’s brows lifted. “Oh. That explains a few things.”
Anabel looked at Xavier, her face hard. “You’re going to hell. You know that, don’t you?”
Grinning, he lifted his glass of cider. “I’ve always known that.”
Wynter snickered and then took another sip of her drink. The conversation turned lighter as time went on, though there was some playful shit talking here and there. Delilah and Hattie hit the dance floor a few times, always huffing at Anabel’s refusal to join them.
Neither Wynter nor Cain were particularly fond of dancing, so they mostly amused themselves by watching Xavier flirt with server after server, adopting a different identity each time.
The music came to a stop when it was time for the feast to begin. First, a bell was rung forty times to call the dead the guests wished to honor. Only after that did the food arrive.
The feast consisted of three courses and offered different selections. Wynter went with potato soup, pot roast, and apple pie. Every single course was utterly fricking delicious.
Shortly after the feast, the folk music started up again. There was then more dancing and laughing. At one point, most of the guests tossed a list they’d written in advance of emotions and habits they wished to purge themselves of right into the bonfire.
It was just as Wynter burned her own list that Cain gently cuffed her arm and said, “I need to leave now.”
He hadn’t said “we”, she noted. He was giving her the choice to stay behind and continue to celebrate with her coven. Which she appreciated but, yeah, that wasn’t happening.
“I’m coming with you.”
He searched her eyes. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
*
Cain waited near the table as Wynter explained to her coven that she’d be back in a while. As he’d expected, they weren’t surprised by her leaving. He knew she’d warned them of it beforehand—though, of course, she hadn’t broken Cain’s confidence and explained just why she’d be leaving.
With that done, he led her out of the hall and over to his Keep. After making their way to the surface via the mirror in his chamber, they left the manor and walked to the northern boundary of the transparent cage, far away from any residents.
There, they exchanged greetings with Ishtar and Inanna, who were waiting somewhat impatiently. Maybe it was due to the seriousness of the situation, but Ishtar didn’t pettily shoot Wynter any “I hate you, please die”
looks for a change.
The other Ancients soon arrived, along with Eve and the twins. Rima had apparently decided to help after all. The three Aeons seemed surprised by Wynter’s presence but made no comment.
A subtle hum of restlessness in his blood, Cain rolled back his shoulders and said, “Let’s get this done.”
“Have you tried puncturing the cage before?”
asked Eve.
He nodded. “Many times.”
Particularly in the beginning. They’d attempted it on a daily basis for a long time. It took a while before any of them were prepared to accept that they were forever trapped.
Noah squinted. “Even though the cage was created by Aeons, I don’t see it.”
“They didn’t want us to be able to see it,”
Azazel told him. “They wanted us to be taunted with how it seemed we were free.”
An “Ah”
expression washed over Noah’s face.
“It worked,”
said Dantalion, his voice sober. “A person can get used to the sight of bars. They eventually come to view the space within it as their world. They will come to feel safe only while surrounded by four walls, in many instances—even if only as a psychological defense mechanism. But if they are no walls, no bars, only a view of places that are so close yet so far . . . I would liken it to being stuck on a small island in the middle of the Caribbean. You can see the world beyond it. You simply can’t get there. It is maddening at times.”
“Especially when we know that our own blood was used to reinforce our cage,”
said Lilith, flexing her fingers. “It makes it feel as if we are partially responsible for our own imprisonment.”
Eve swallowed. “I’m sorry this was done to you. I’m sorry I was not able to help.”
Seth briefly touched her arm. “You’re helping now.”
Rima looked at Wynter. “As are you, apparently.”
It wasn’t said with attitude, it was simply an observation. Which meant Cain didn’t have to tell her to watch her fucking mouth.
“I might not be needed,”
said Wynter. “I’m just here in case I am.”
Cain half-expected Ishtar to snort in disdain at his consort, but the female Ancient paid her no attention. She was focused on the prison she couldn’t see. Good. He wanted them all fully focused on the matter at hand.
He swept his gaze over each and every person. “I’m assuming everyone remembers just what it is they need to do and when they need to do it?”
They’d already discussed it the previous night.
People answered in the affirmative. They all then lined up, fully facing the transparent cage. Cain looked at his consort, who stood between him and Abaddon. She gave Cain an encouraging nod, her eyes practically yelling You can do this.
Azazel raised his hand. A narrow beam of shimmering power shot out of his palm and crashed into the forcefield, making a small portion of it flicker, showing its honeycomb pattern.
Aiming power at the construct wasn’t like throwing a dart at a board, because the wall wasn’t hard. It was flimsy like gossamer and swayed like a cloth in the breeze, but it was tougher than any steel.
Azazel kept the needle-thin flow of power concentrated on one spot. Dantalion went next, focusing his own blast on that exact same spot. Lilith added her own power, as did Seth. Then the sisters. Then Cain. Soon the needle was so thick it was more of an arrow.
“The cage definitely isn’t as strong as it once was,”
said Azazel. “But it’s still like poking a finger at a damn veil—all you do is stretch the material, nothing breaks.”
“Not yet,”
corrected Noah, more confidence in his voice than Cain might have expected.
The three Aeons then acted. Cain felt their elemental power fuel and interweave itself with the “arrow”, causing the construct to throb and hum.
Cain glanced at his uncle. “We’ve put as much of a strain on this part of the wall as we can. Now you go.”
Abaddon flooded the “arrow”
with his own power, visibly amplifying it. The construct thickened, sharpened, and glowed more brightly.
Cain’s pulse jumped as he felt a slight give in the ethereal wall. Like a stitch was being strained. He looked at his consort and nodded.
Wynter let out a surge of dark, rippling magick. It crackled as it hit the arrow and then curled around it, smooth as a snake. There was something very predatory about the flow of magick as it slinked its way closer and closer to the tip of the arrow, like a serpent creeping fast toward its prey.
“Now,”
Cain ordered, speaking to everyone at once. He dug deep into his reserves and boosted his own wave of power. The others did the same and then, at once, they gave the arrow an abrupt, forward shove.
Seams stretched. The wall tautened. The arrow vibrated.
A stitch popped.
Satisfaction curled his lips. “Again.”
They drilled the arrow forward once more. Another stitch broke under the strain, followed quickly by another. And another. And another. The wall bounded backwards as a perfect tear formed, long and wide enough for a person to step through.
Everyone pulled back their power and stilled. The prison was now once more transparent, but it didn’t matter. They all knew exactly where that tear was. And, having craved the sight of one for so long, there was no danger of them ever forgetting its location.
Ishtar moved first, her hopeful expression almost childlike in its vulnerability. She tentatively tried poking her hand through the gap they could no longer see. “I feel it, I feel its edges brushing my skin.”
Her face lit up as her arm stretched all the way through the tear. Laughing to herself, she stepped through the hole. Then she was jumping on the spot, urging her sister to join her.
Like the other Ancients, Cain slid through the gap, feeling a soft brush of something . . . like the swish of a curtain. As he planted both feet on the ground beyond the prison’s boundary, a smile pulled at his mouth. Free. He was fucking free. Finally.
He let out a quiet exhale and then drew in a long breath through his nose. There was a lightness in his chest. As if a weight, a restriction, was gone. Warm energy trickled through him, leaving him feeling ultra-alert.
His creature basked in its freedom, raring to do one thing only—destroy those who’d taken that freedom from it in the first place.
All in good time.
The other Ancients were grinning, their eyes glowing with elation.
“It’s a little strange to know I can now go anywhere I want whenever I want,”
said Inanna, looking up at the sky.
Ishtar tipped her head back and stretched her arms out wide. “Is it just me, or is the air so much fresher here?”
“It’s just you,”
Rima deadpanned, making Wynter snort in amusement.
Ishtar threw the Aeon a dirty look but then went back to reveling in the moment.
Noah elbowed his sister. “Maybe you could stop annoying Ancients. I like you alive.”
His sister only rolled her eyes.
Turning to Cain, Wynter smiled up at him. “I’ll bet you can breathe easier just knowing you’re not trapped anymore.”
He felt his mouth curve. “That’s exactly how it feels.”
Eve bit her lip. “There’s no way the hole will mend itself, is there?”
“No,”
replied Seth. “Just as a tear in a sweater wouldn’t fix itself. The damage is done.”
“And if it did by some miracle close up, we’d just undo it again,”
said Lilith.
“I think I’ll sleep out here tonight.”
Ishtar let out a wave of power that formed a translucent, plump rectangle. She flopped back onto it, chuckling when it jiggled like a waterbed. “Come, Inanna, we can sleep together like old times.”
Rima folded her arms. “Okay, so you’re all officially free. Now what?”
It was Azazel who answered, “Now we refine our plans to invade Aeon, because we’re definitely fucking invading it.”
“I long to head there right now.”
Abaddon held up his hand to halt any objections. “I won’t. It would be foolish to act alone, I know. Still, it’s tempting.”
“Very,”
agreed Dantalion. “But I’m not about to ruin everything now by moving too soon. We should do as Azazel said and refine our plans. We can do that here and now, in fact.”
“I want to be part of the battle,”
Rima blurted out.
Cain blinked, taken off-guard. “You wish to not only see your childhood home destroyed, but partake in its destruction?”
“You were initially very much against the idea of another war,”
added Seth, his eyes narrowed.
Rima flexed her fingers. “I do not like the idea, but the place will soon be a wasteland anyway. I want Adam to pay for what he did to my mother.”
Noah reached out and squeezed her hand, his expression grim. “We both want some part in making it happen. And we agreed that there is only one thing that will truly hurt Adam—seeing Aeon, a place he thinks of as his kingdom, fall.”
“If we have to join you in order to ensure that, so be it,”
Rima added.
Noah nodded hard in agreement.
“I, too, would like to come along,”
announced Eve, twiddling her fingers. “I am no fighter, but I am still an Aeon. I am not weak. And I need to see Adam be brought down. He must suffer for all he put me and my children through.”
Cain exchanged a look with each of the other Ancients, seeing the same suspiciousness in their gazes that he felt. They’d planned to somehow coax the Aeons into being part of the force of troops, because to leave them behind would also, essentially, leave Devil’s Cradle in their hands. Sure, the Aeons could be confined to a dungeon. But Saul had once been imprisoned in such a way, and he’d been freed.
Cain and the other Ancients would rather have the Aeons where they could see them, but they hadn’t thought that the trio would actually volunteer to take part in the war. Particularly all three Aeons. It was a little too suspicious, but it also suited the Ancients, so Cain said, “If you’re very sure that this is what you want, you may come.”
Rima’s brows dipped. “You’re not going to argue?”
Cain gave a fluid shrug. “Why would I? You have as much right to seek revenge as anyone else. Now I say we do as Azazel said and refine our plans.”
The Ancients as a whole would merely be careful not to say too much in front of the Aeons. It would be foolish to trust them with every little detail.
Rima cleared her throat. “Well. Um. Thank you.”
“Yes, thanks, we need this,”
added Noah while Eve gave a smile of gratitude.
Since none of the Ancients were in a rush to return inside the cage, they started a small campfire and gathered around it to hold their discussion.
“I can help with the plans,”
said Wynter.
Ishtar’s upper lip curled. “You? How so?”
Wynter gave her a sweet smile. “You once lived at Aeon, but I’m betting many changes have been made to the place since you were last there. The layout may be different in various ways. As someone who lived there up until several months ago, I can give an accurate description of the place as it currently stands.”
“So can Eve and the twins,”
Ishtar pointed out.
“But I’ll bet they can’t tell you about the non-Aeons who live there,”
hedged Wynter, and neither Eve nor her grandchildren objected. “I can. It only makes sense to know what kind of force you’ll be facing.”
“She’s right,”
said Dantalion. “Eve and the twins can give us details on the underground utopia and the people who live there, but not the town above it or its residents.”
“How many people live in the town?”
Abaddon asked Wynter.
“Nowhere near as many as can be found in the town here,”
she replied. “Especially since some died in recent battles or fled Aeon to seek safety elsewhere. There won’t be many underground either. Aeons don’t have several packs and covens and conclaves etc. below the surface. They only permit one of each group to reside down there.”
Azazel frowned. “Why only one?”
“They consider it an honor,”
Wynter told him. “It’s an honor they’ll only bestow to few. Every member of each group has to be trained to fight, protect, and defend. No individuals who they consider a weak link are allowed to live among them, so they must either be cast out of their group, or said group must accept that they will never directly serve the Aeons.”
“So they’re still all about ‘perfection’,”
said Abaddon. “I suppose they still view themselves as holy and expect to be treated as such.”
Rima bristled. “Not all are like that.”
Noah sighed. “Most do expect mortals to worship them, though. They don’t claim to be gods, but they want the awe, fear, and devotion that gods receive.”
“Which isn’t something I see a present need to complain about,”
began Lilith, “because the limitations they have on how many can reside among them in the underground city works for us quite nicely. I suspect we will meet more resistance when on Aeon’s surface than we will beneath ground.”
“If you can get down there,”
said Rima. “Aeon itself isn’t preternaturally shielded, but the entrance to the utopia beneath it is—it had to be to protect Eden’s place of Rest.”
“Yes, we know,”
Cain told her. “But there must be another way in and out of the underground city. I heard that there was a separate entrance, but I was never able to learn where it was. I firmly believe it exists. Adam would want a bolt hole.”
Rima blinked. “There were whispers of another entrance existing, but I never met anybody who claimed to know if it truly exists, let alone where it could be located.”
“Same here,”
said Noah, who then slid his gaze to Eve. “Do you know of one?”
Eve shook her head. “If such an entrance does in fact exist, Adam would not share it with many. He certainly wouldn’t share it with me. He never trusted me with any information he wished to keep private. He knew my loyalty would never be to him.”
“I never heard whispers about there being a second way into the city,”
said Wynter. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”
“We could search for it while there,”
Inanna suggested. “And if we fail to find one, we will simply have to do our best to flush the Aeons out.”
“I have an idea of how we might do that,”
said Cain.
Abaddon gave a satisfied nod. “Then let us all talk war.”