Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
J ust as we made it out the room, a crash caused Dominic and Anand to stop and quickly return to the room. I stayed where I was, which gave me the vantage of seeing everything but not being part of it. The Seer who predicted our doom was crumpled in a heap on the floor, near the destroyed wall. Shades filed into the room along with a flurry of aggressive movement and magic. The unique sounds of shifters taking on their animal form soon followed.
One of the winged creatures was like a bird of prey, descending on one of the wolf shifters whose muscular body didn’t hinder his ability to swiftly lunge out of the shade’s way. The shade countered with a burst of magic whizzed at the creature to no effect. I wasn’t sure whether in the shade’s absence of being around shifters he’d forgotten their magic immunity, or whether it was something he’d try every chance he got, to determine if that had changed.
There were people with the shades. I gathered it was more shades who’d taken on human form. I had no idea why they would. Was it for the purpose of deceit, and was a human body a more adaptable form for fighting, allowing them to use the new form and magic to their advantage? Another shade in human form sped toward a vampire, who flashed its elongated teeth before charging. They crashed in a fury of strikes and punches before the shade, with a hip toss, landed the vampire on the floor. The shade placed his hand at the vampire’s chest, like Dominic had done. The vampire convulsed several times and made a gurgled sound before he exploded into a puff of gray mist. I moved farther away, putting as much distance as I could between me and the violence and fighting, negotiating the flying bodies and aggressive magic, unable to determine who was winning.
As the fighting continued, it was too difficult to keep track of Dominic. Panic swept through me when I lost him. I searched the crowd and caught sight of Anand, who had given up hiding his magical abilities and was using it to corral the shades away from some of the supernaturals who were being overpowered. Those who knew him as a shifter now saw him as a being with the ability to control them. Instead of appreciation, I noted shock and apprehension from them; it explained why he chose to live with Dominic as opposed to living among them. Moving my attention from Anand, I finally found Dominic in the crowd. He was focused on a large man who’d drawn his lips back to expose his fangs. His attention quickly moved to the vampire’s claws.
Emory, in his sleek, vicious animal form, caught a shade unaware and incapacitated it with his claws. It died in a macabre display of violence that drove me to look away. He turned the same demonstration of gruesome aggression on a witch acolyte of the Dark Caster. I stopped tracking Emory’s whereabouts, slotting him into the category of those most likely to survive this.
Three menacing shades swooped in through a hole in the wall. One snatched up Emory with his claws. Dominic reacted with a magical spear that pierced through the creature’s body. It thrashed and writhed in pain as he set it ablaze with a fiery blast of energy, forcing it to drop Emory who plummeted toward the ground at an alarming speed. Quick to react, every movement of Dominic’s hand guided him through the air with skillful precision, slowing his descent to a safe landing. Dominic then lashed out with fire at the creature’s chest, resulting in an explosion of heat that burned the shade.
Anand moved forward with unrestrained ferocity, taking his assertion to heart that the royals and I wouldn’t die, by intervening between the shade who’d set its eyes on me.
From my location just outside the door, I was in less danger of being hit by the hurling bodies, the indiscriminate firing of magic, or a wayward kick, elbow, or fist, but my panicked heartbeat wouldn’t stop thrashing. It was necessary to stay on high alert. In the mesh of bodies on the floor and bodies launched through the room, I again lost sight of Dominic. Frantically scanning, I found him ending a fight with a vampire who’d sided with the Dark Caster.
Sorting through allies and enemies was becoming increasingly difficult. When I scoped a witch, vampire, or shifter, I wasn’t sure whose side they were on. But I determined that consistently, if they were an enemy, they tended to be a vampire or witch. It spoke to the loyalty of shifters Dominic had told me about. They favored rules and order and were less likely to go against the others. And they must benefit the most from humans not knowing of their existence.
No one could deny that the impending victory was the result of having Anand and the royals with them. With the low numbers left of the Dark Caster’s acolytes, I expected the allies to go for complete annihilation of any survivors, but when Madeline and three other witches came to a paralyzed halt, I wondered if they’d found empathy for their enemies. Terror and disbelief etched over their faces. I followed their eyes to the woman who’d emerged at the other side of the room. Not through a door or hole, just appearing, her energy changing the dynamics of the space, cascading through the area, drowning it in her immensity. The unique aura that accompanied Dominic and his family exuded from her. Distinctive, strong, and dominating. Celeste. Without the restraints of the spells that kept her imprisoned, the feel of her magic was visceral.
Squaring her shoulders added inches to her five-ten frame. Silver-blonde hair was twined in a French braid. Her striking features made determining her age difficult. She moved with a lithe grace, a smile inching across her face. She was a new and disturbing player in the game. With all the changing alliances and objectives, I had no idea what to expect from her.
The same dilemma flashed over the witches’ expressions.
Celeste raised her hand and her mouth moved quickly, spitting out words, an illuminating ring forming around her as the door slammed closed. Tendrils of gray that I’d seen before, which pulled oxygen from the room, slithered and migrated at a steady, controlled rate toward the cluster of people. Despite her silence, Celeste’s intentions were quite clear and expressed prolifically through her magic.
She wanted everyone dead.
Helena sped toward the enclosed witch. A silverish stream flowed from her and battered at the illuminated enclosure around Celeste. Her abrasive, haughty smile taunted Helena as the protective field held. The vampires didn’t need oxygen; they would not be affected, but everyone else would.
Helena’s petulance with denial of anything served in her favor. Determination fueled her. Her brow creased as she walked around the enclosure, studying it. Pressing her hand to it, occasionally gasping as she began to succumb to the magic that was drawing the air from the room. Witches worked to minimize its effect while struggling not to fall victim to it. Color leached from their faces, beads of sweat forming on their brows. Helena looked at Dominic and then at her father, and with a concerted effort a cyclonic wave of magic formed as theirs met, circling the enclosure, battering into it until it fell from Celeste. With an imperceptible explosion of movement, Helena’s hands wrapped around Celeste’s throat, claws out and seconds from making the kill despite Dominic’s vocal objections. He was next to Helena, taking hold of the offending clawed hand and pulling the other away from Celeste’s neck. From Celeste’s pallid coloring, Helena was crushing her windpipe.
“You can’t kill her,” he gritted out.
“No, you can’t. I don’t care about the oath you made with them. She will die.” The moment of discord gave Celeste the opportunity to move from their immediate grasp and display her adroit magical skills as she resurrected the barrier and pushed out the oxygen-depriving mist.
“They will all die. You all will.” Her sweet melodious tone contrasted with her cruel behavior. The only thing I could determine was that Celeste was a magical sociopath whose actions were self-serving rather than on behalf of the Dark Caster. She wanted everyone dead. She locked eyes with a vampire whose confidence in his safety showed in his dark eyes.
Her taut lips lifted into a cruel smile. “Verum mors.” I had no idea what it meant, but it struck fear onto the vampire’s face. Another attempted to move but found her feet affixed to the floor. Panic was woven into every expression that moved over the vampire’s face.
The royals went to work on removing the enclosure again but seemed to have more difficulty. Celeste was proving not only tenacious but adaptive, able to change the spell enough so the same tactics didn’t work again. A confident smile bloomed as the mist crept over the room, presenting a greater challenge for the witches.
My mind was a buzz of bad ideas on how to help. I hated feeling so useless. My only option was to stay alive and do whatever necessary not to be a burden so no resources or magic would be directed to saving me.
Backing away from the mist that inched in my direction, I bumped up against a body behind me. I turned to face a woman whose curly, mahogany hair with reddish highlights was pulled into a low bun. Warm peach undertones gave her heart-shape face a pleasantness that belied the blaze of insistent urgency in her hazel eyes and the firm grasp she’d placed on my arm.
“Come,” she ordered in a rushed whisper. Her hold moved from my arm to a firm cuff around my wrist, tugging me farther out the door. I rummaged through all the new faces I’d encountered over the weeks. Nothing about hers was familiar, but I couldn’t tamp down the feeling that I’d met her before. Stumbling under her pull as she rushed me from the building, I yanked my wrist away once we had taken several paces.
“Who are you?” I demanded in a breathless huff, putting some distance between us. The amiable smile didn’t waver, nor the staunch self-assurance, which I’d learned meant I was dealing with someone powerful.
“Help. Luna, I’m help.”
Not a name nor an acceptable answer.
“What’s help’s name?” The question came out like a challenge because my internal alarms were telling me she wasn’t the kind of help I wanted.
“Ophelia.”
I doubted that was her real name and wondered if she’d given it because it was Greek for help, or twisted foreshadowing to a tragedy like Hamlet’s Ophelia. Nothing about the choice seemed coincidental.
A smile tugged at her lips as she watched a shade in an upright position, using its wings to jump steps while he moved past us toward the warehouse. More people filing into the warehouse made her smile grow wider. I assumed it was the Awakeners. The reverent looks they offered her in passing quickly clued me to who she was. Like Peter, she’d been wrapped in an innocuous package.
Having the benefit of surprise as an advantage, I lunged at her. We crashed to the ground. Rolling her onto her stomach, I twisted her arm behind her back, shifting my weight to give me leverage and keep her secured against the ground.
“Stop,” she whimpered in a voice so pitiful and pained, it gave me a moment of pause. She had to be. I wasn’t wrong. This was the person who stole my magic. Killed the Awakeners who hadn’t joined her or managed to escape.
She sobbed. “Let me go.”
The second-guessing gnawed at me. The doubt was firmly planted. The treachery, switches in alliances, and betrayals had me questioning myself.
Listen to your gut, Luna. Something is off.
“I know who you are,” I said, tightening my hold. “Do not play with me.” Clearly, I’d been around violence too much because now my only thoughts were ending her and putting a stop to it all. Would her death send the shades back to the Underworld? What would dealing with a destabilized group of Awakeners be like? Could my life return to an imitation of normal where I’d pretend vampires, witches, shades, shifters, and other magical beings didn’t exist? Where I believed the most dangerous thing to me was a person who thought the movie was better than the book?
An invisible tendril wrapped around me, ensorcelled in magic. It squeezed and sent a shocking pain through me. Tears blurred my vision, and my pained shriek continued to ring in my ear. She’d tossed me off her. As she attempted to stand, I swiped her leg with mine, sending her back to the ground with a shocked gasp of surprise.
People underestimating me worked to my advantage. Straddling her, I attempted to secure her arms that were swiping wildly at me while a violent soundtrack of fighting in the warehouse commenced in the background.
Expecting a vicious retaliation that never came, I tried to think of a way to secure her. My scream for Anand with his exceptional hearing was cut off at the first syllable when my body seized in a fit of pain, an invisible vine coiling around my neck, applying enough pressure to allow just small wisps of breaths to seep through. The vine began to pulse, allowing full breaths before cruelly cutting them off. A display of skill and power. I didn’t have magic, and if I did, wouldn’t have honed it to any level to be a challenge to her. A flood of hopelessness came over me, but it was rapidly replaced by a burst of anger. Gathering all my oxygen-deprived strength, I punched her. Shock covered her face and the magic assault stopped. As a dark smirk worked its way to her lips, I responded with another punch that landed on her nose.
My first fight had been with one of the most dangerous and powerful beings in the world, and I hated it. Never wanted to do it again. I fought the urge to close my eyes to avoid seeing the blood spilling from her nose. The sight of blood shouldn’t bother me, I’d seen so much of it lately, but it did, and I found some comfort in knowing that suffering still bothered me. Somehow, I managed to hold on to my humanity despite a deep-seated desire to pummel the woman under me. At least I could knock her out cold.
My third strike attempt. All traces of amusement and civility dropped from the mask she presented, mutating to a cold ominous steel that sent shivers through me.
“Now I’m debating if you’re worth saving,” she said, her voice matching the look she gave me. Magic in full force without a shred of mercy. A vice grip formed around my throat and body, crushing me. Immobile, I struggled for every breath. With magic, she tossed me off her.
On the ground, I struggled, clawing at the magical vine around me. There was nothing to grab. I needed to stop the source. The Dark Caster stood, squared her shoulders, coming to her full height. A portentous presence. A golden halation flowed from her and covered me. I battled the darkness that threatened to take over. With a last-ditch effort, I grabbed her before collapsing.
The blackness receded. She wasn’t trying to kill me—just subdue me. That was more troubling because obviously she viewed me as of use to her. Not disposable right then, but her casual display of power was a reminder that if I was no longer of value, she could easily dispose of me.
“Ansel—” Her lips turned up in disgust. “Peter—he is deserving of his human name?—
proved to be useless. You’ve spent time with Dominic, Helena, and Areleus and,” her brow cocked, “their mother. Have you meet Ileana?”
That was my use. Information.
My lips tightened in a painful thin line to ensure not one bit of information escaped. Sneering at my resistance, she placed a hand on my shoulder and a jolt ran through me. I wailed. The sound hung in the air. Her dark smirk widened.
“Have you met Ileana?” There was desperate longing in her interrogation.
When I didn’t answer, she delivered another painful jolt that wracked my body. Constant and unrelenting. Tears blurred my vision.
“Stop, please,” I said between the choked gasps. “I can’t think.”
“You have to think about whether you’ve met Ileana?”
My lips returned to the rigid line. She huffed a breath, and with a wave of her hand, it all stopped. My breathing normalized and I took several deep ones, my body craving oxygen. Pain. I had felt it so much lately, I didn’t respond typically to the relief.
Slowly I hauled myself up, furtively scanning for weapons or help. Nothing and no one was available. With magic and shades at her command, she had a definite advantage. Could I outrun her?
“Why?” I asked. The question served as a distraction from the one she wanted answered.
“Why what?” A spark of interest lit her eyes.
So many questions ran through my mind. All of them begging to be answered. How did you stay hidden for so long? What happens if you destroy the Underworld? Why was I chosen to hold Dark Caster magic?
“Why are you doing this?” Perhaps it was the unintended pitiable way I asked that led to her stern look of contempt easing.
“We were hunted and destroyed. There can be no other reason. Revenge.”
I heard the “and” in her words. There was no finality to it.
“And?”
“Destroy the Underworld and those in it.”
“And the people here, what will happen to them? Will they be destroyed as well?” There had to be some lingering bitterness toward them. They didn’t commit the offenses; they were avid supporters of it. “Do you believe magic shouldn’t exist here?” Her eyes brightened at my question, and I heard it also in my words. Fear, panic, fatigue, and raw and abject helplessness laced my question. It falsely led her to assume our goals aligned.
“I don’t want to end all magic. I strive for order. I will provide that so that we can coexist with the humans without issues. My magic will ensure compliance.”
“Not from everyone. Shifters are immune to magic.”
That excited sparkle renewed itself. “Shifters will be divested of their immunity. There can’t be order if they maintain that advantage. Too many vampires currently exist. It is a hassle. Those that can integrate the best in this new world will be spared. If Celeste succeeds, that makes things much easier for me. If she doesn’t, it is still an advantage. If she is killed, the strongest witches, those who would prove to be a problem for me, will die. If her life is spared by Dominic and his family, I will step in to remedy that lapse in judgment.” Her eyes migrated to the building where Celeste was either being defeated or killing any threats to the Dark Caster. She might not be an ally, but she’d become an unwitting accomplice.
Ophelia’s horrid plans mirrored Peter’s but came with a side of what-the-fuck-this-is-horrible-beyond-imagination.
From her wistful look she was waiting for accolades, a pat on the head, or some form of compliment. I just wanted to punch her again. Did the Awakeners realize they were helping the very person who planned to destroy them?
An Oscar-winning actor wouldn’t be able to hide their abhorrence at her plans. I failed miserably at hiding my sheer disgust.
Her delight withered. Glaring at me, she opened her palm. Magic tugged at me, pulling me closer to her. Just as she was about to reach for me a blast smashed into her back, hurling her at a tree several feet away. Helena’s eyes blazed with fire. The fire diffused into amber. Taking in the situation, she seemed to gather what she’d just saved me from. The menacing promise of consequences were in each step Helena made toward Ophelia.
Another mass of magic whizzed past me to Ophelia, hitting the tree where the Caster had been. She was gone. We both searched. I expected a quick reappearance and willingness to challenge Helena. There wasn’t. Instead, the remaining shades fled from the building, as did the Dark Caster’s acolytes, of whom there were notably fewer.
“Luna, are you okay?” Helena’s urgent question broke through the noise. A harsh whooshing stopped my response. The space where Helena stood was now empty.
Scanning the area, I called for her despite knowing she’d never respond.
Then I called Dominic. He was at my side before his name could fully leave my lips.
“What?” he rushed out, his hands on my shoulder in a desperate attempt to give me his full attention and ignore the activity behind us.
“The Dark Caster was here. She took Helena.” I explained everything that happened. He kept me close at his side as we rushed back into the building. Celeste was gone but Madeline standing among the ruins keyed me in that Celeste was still alive. Their bloodline was protected for now. I skimmed over the sickening evidence of the war and the smaller number of people who still occupied the room. I let the na?ve thought that they’d left voluntarily creep in, and not the chilling reality of what actually occurred.
“Finish up here,” Dominic directed Anand. He explained Helena’s disappearance to Areleus, tasking him with initial efforts to find her.
“Where are you going? Your sister is missing,” Areleus hissed when Dominic turned his hand lightly on my elbow, guiding me toward his SUV.
“Taking Luna to safety. I’ll join you when I return.”
“You will do no such thing,” he roared. “Finding Helena takes priority. Your—” His preferred use of human wasn’t what came to mind, and the spiteful look hurled at me was proof.
“Both are a priority. I’ve lost my sister. I won’t lose Luna.”
I despised the sorrow in his tone whether his father caught it or not. It wasn’t primarily her abduction—it was her betrayal that festered, and yet he couldn’t stop being concerned about her. The warring emotions had to be difficult to manage.
He moved closer to his father, dropping his voice to a whisper and ignoring the buzz of discussion about the Dark Caster’s presence and Helena’s abduction. The group didn’t seem concerned about Helena being missing and wouldn’t be easily persuaded to do anything about it.
“You need to form a search party. Convince them of the importance of finding Helena. At this moment, the only thing they care about is the Caster’s involvement.”
I wasn’t confident that Areleus would be able to do it and that searching for Helena would be left to them.
Not giving Areleus an opportunity for further debate, and placing his hand on my back, Dominic steered me toward the SUV.
“I don’t want to go to the Underworld or your mother’s realm,” I blurted out once in the car.
“It wouldn’t be safe for you there anyway. If Ophelia has Helena, she’s probably looking for an entrance there. I don’t believe you’re a priority now that she has her, but you’re still a target. I won’t allow you to be an easy target.”
So many people hated me and blamed me for things, I didn’t bother to ask. The only person I’d trust would be Dominic and Anand. In my opinion, even Ileana was suspect.