Blood of the Sorceress (26 page)

He needed to distract the people beyond this door, he realized. Get them to come out so he could go in.

His hand curled around the hilt of the blade at his side, and he drew it silently. Yes. He could distract them.

He withdrew from the cave, aimed the blade and blasted a copse of dying poplar trees. Fire flashed from the tip of the golden athame and exploded the grove with a blinding flash, a resonating boom, a hailstorm of splinters flying in all directions. Then he aimed and fired again in a different direction, igniting another satisfying explosion.

He ran full speed into the shadows deep inside the cave and waited there, watching as the door was flung wide and men flooded through it. Ten or more of them. All of them dressed entirely in black and wearing a bizarre assortments of masks. And then came Sindar himself.

He was even fatter now than he had been before, and his face was fuller, younger-looking.

The bastard followed his men, shouting orders, then shoved the slowest out of the way as he shouldered past and stormed out of the tunnel to survey the damage. Clearly he thought he was under attack.

Demetrius crept up behind the straggler and hooked his arm around the man’s neck. He increased the pressure until the man went limp in his arms, then dragged him quickly into the shadows. When he emerged again he was dressed in the man’s black clothes. Dark jeans that were a bit tight on him, a long-sleeved black spandex turtleneck, straining at the seams against his muscles. And the mask, a black handkerchief with eye-holes torn into the fabric, knotted behind his head.

He quickly ducked through the rusted metal door and paused as if he were standing guard. Arms across his chest, his blade concealed, he surveyed the unstable-looking metal staircase and the large concrete room below it. His eyes came to a sudden halt and he almost gasped aloud when he caught sight of Lilia. She was lying facedown on a concrete table. There were chains, lax at the moment, attached to her wrists and ankles, and a length of white fabric was wrapped around her.

His stomach heaved as he saw that there was blood seeping into the fabric from somewhere beneath her body. More had spattered in macabre patterns on the floor.

What had they done to her? By the Gods, was she even alive?

Rein yourself in,
his mind told him.
If she’s not already dead, you’re her only hope.

Two men stood, one on either side of her, dressed in black like Sindar’s other minions. On the opposite end of the room, beyond a barred door, he saw a bearded man in red-and-white robes sitting on the edge of a cot, rocking an infant in his arms. He had to be Bahru, and from the squirming of the bundle he held, it appeared Eleanora was still alive and well.

No other guards in the place. He drew his gaze back to the ones below and, whipping out the dagger, blasted first one and then the other. Then he turned and aimed the athame at the metal door behind him, blasting it along the edge. The metal heated to red-orange and sparks showered as he effectively welded it shut, then he melted the locks and even the hinges with the fire of his blade for good measure.

Finished, he whirled and pounded down the stairway. A quick blast to the cell door sent it sliding open on its own, and then he was running across the room, clasping Lilia’s shoulders in his arms. “Lilia. Wake up, Lilia.”

She didn’t move, didn’t even moan. He wasn’t sure she was breathing. And in that moment, in that instant of believing her dead, he felt the return of the worst pain he’d ever felt. That same pain of loss, of love destroyed, of utter devastation he’d experienced when she’d been torn from him before. In his mind’s eye he saw her again as she’d turned to look into his eyes just before she was pushed from the cliff so long ago. He saw her love for him and knew he wasn’t worthy, because he couldn’t save her. He couldn’t save her then. And he had failed her again now.

He sank to his knees on the floor, his hands going to his head as he howled his pain for the world to hear. It was vivid and real, the past, the present, the pain, the loss. The love. Gods, the love. Memories flooded his mind so rapidly and so completely that he nearly drowned in them. And it was all there. Everything he’d had, everything he’d lost. The horrible crushing guilt of having betrayed his King and friend by loving a woman who belonged to him, and then murdering him when he reacted as anyone could have predicted he would. The even larger weight of knowing that had he never loved her, his beloved would not have died then. Or now.

“Demetrius,” said a deep voice from behind him.

He turned to look up at the aging guru, whose weathered face was troubled. “Lilia will revive.”

Frowning, Demetrius got to his feet and went to her. Yes, he realized, it was true. She
was
immortal, at least until the actual moment of Beltane. Her heart would beat again, and breath would fill her lungs.

“Pull yourself together,” Bahru told him. “We have to get out of here. Sindar intends to kill her, to kill you both.”

“Yes.” Demetrius shot the blade at Lilia’s chains, cutting through them with fire and letting them fall to the floor with a loud enough clatter to wake the dead.

Then he turned her over, almost crying out at the amount of blood that soaked the gown. “Where are her clothes?” he asked the guru.

The man trotted away, baby in one arm, gathered up Lilia’s clothes from the corner where they’d been tossed and brought them back quickly. Then he looked up, his eyes widening as someone began pounding on the door above. “There’s no other way out,” he said.

“We’ll make one.” Demetrius strode to the farthest wall and aimed the dagger at the ceiling near what he hoped was the mouth of the tunnel. And he blasted. The concrete shattered, raining down. “Get back!” he shouted to Bahru. “And take her with you.”

Bahru grabbed the still-unconscious Lilia by one arm, dragging her off the table. She hit the floor hard, but he kept going, pulling her out of way of the rain of debris as Demetrius blasted again and again.

When he stopped, the men were still pounding on the door. In all their noise, they’d failed to hear his. He had made a hole through which he could see the night sky. And...was that a tree? He hoped so.

Now to get Bahru and the child up there. And then himself and Lilia.

He ran to the concrete table and pushed it with all his might until it stood against the wall. Then he braced himself against it, pushing and lifting. Bahru laid the baby down on the cold concrete floor and came to help him.

They grunted as they strained to tip the thing up onto its end, which would enable Bahru to reach the opening and escape to freedom. But they were not strong enough, and the door above was rattling as Sindar and his minions battered it.

And then he heard Lilia’s voice whispering in his memory. He remembered that day in his private garden when she’d shown him how to move a potted palm without touching it.
The amulet, Demetrius. Use it.

Backing away, blinking at her wisdom and his own apparent idiocy, he closed his eyes, clasped the pendant and visualized the table standing on its end. He was shocked when he opened his eyes and saw it standing just that way. He quickly jumped on top of it. “Bahru, get the baby up here, now.”

The old guru hurried closer, sending a regretful look at Lilia as he left her on the floor. Then he held Ellie out to Demetrius.

Demetrius took the tiny girl carefully, holding her while Bahru clambered up onto the table. He stared down into the baby’s trusting eyes, and his heart filled with pride. He was going to save her. That much, at least, he would manage this day. “You have to go first,” he told Bahru. “So I can hand her up to you.”

“Yes, yes. Give me a leg up. The hole is still too high to reach.”

Demetrius bent one leg. Bahru stepped onto his thigh and reached for the opening. Gripping the rough and ragged edges, he pulled his head through. He struggled, twisting and kicking, but he finally managed to pull himself all the way out.

In spite of everything, the baby girl smiled and burbled at Demetrius, making spit bubbles and, he could have sworn, giggling. His lips rose at the corners, and his eyes filled with tears. “Be well, little witchling,” he said, and without planning to, he bent and kissed her forehead.

Then he straightened and, stretching his arms, lifted her up to Bahru who was reaching down for her.

The door was still being pounded, giving way a bit more each time, as Bahru reached down, his long arms wrinkled and dark. Demetrius stretched, balancing the child on his open palms, and the old man closed his hands around her and gathered her to him.

“Don’t wait for us,” Demetrius told him. “Take the baby and go. Do not look back until she’s safe.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you, Demetrius.”

And then they were gone.

Demetrius jumped to the floor and hurried toward Lilia. As he went, he gripped his pendant, shot a look at the makeshift cell door and slid it slowly closed. He tried to unbend the bars where his initial blast had altered them. He even plumped the blankets on the cot to look rumpled. And then he was kneeling beside his beloved, gathering her up in his arms. Suddenly, as if by magic, she sucked in a great, gasping breath, arching her back and going rigid in his arms, and then slowly relaxing again as her eyes blinked open.

“Thank the Gods,” he whispered. “Thank the Gods.” He kissed her, tears falling from his eyes and making her lips taste of salt. All he wanted was more of this, more of her, more time. She breathed, sighed into his kiss, and he felt something—something that felt thick and warm, like heated honey—filling him from head to toe. Soothing, somehow. Right, somehow. Healing and nourishing his body, making him feel more alive than he’d ever been, and almost invincible.

Then the door finally gave way beneath the blows of Sindar’s army. It smashed into the wall, and he knew they had run out of time. But he didn’t care. He would die by her side or live with her forever. It didn’t matter, as long as they were together.

Lilia lowered herself from his arms and stood tall beside him. He took the amulet from around his neck and quickly put it around hers. “Better we both have a magical weapon for this fight.”

“Thank you, my love.” She nodded, pressing a hand to the amulet, closing her eyes briefly, then opening them again and standing ready as the dozen or so men in black, all of them masked, tromped down the stairs and assembled at the bottom. Demetrius didn’t even look at them but instead marveled at her. His Lilia, poised and ready to fight at his side.

The last few thugs were surging down the metal staircase, causing such a racket that he fought the urge to cover his ears. “Wait for it,” Lilia whispered. “Wait.”

Finally the entire gang had gathered at the bottom of the stairway. Some had knives drawn, others nothing but their bare hands. But they would be deadly either way. They stood there like a pack of killer dogs awaiting the word of their master.

Sindar alone remained at the top of the stairs, his eyes on Demetrius, glittering with excitement. “I knew you’d come for her,” he said. “But where are her sisters? Surely they’re not far behind. I was counting on having everyone here for the final execution.”

Lilia said nothing, but Demetrius felt the anger surging in her. The heat of it, the energy, was palpable.

“Ah, well, I’m sure they’ll be along. In the meantime—” Sindar looked at his goons “—take them.”

“Now,” Lilia said.

Demetrius pointed the blade into the midst of the slavering pack, and pushed with his mind to fire it.

But nothing happened. Nothing at all.

15

B
ahru held the baby close, his arms wrapped protectively around her, and turned from the opening Demetrius had blasted through the side of the mountain, trying to get his bearings. Sindar and his army of drones, men whose minds he’d taken over—Bahru knew it could happen, because it had happened to him just prior to Ellie’s birth—had finally broken the door and surged inside. Lilia and Demetrius hadn’t had time to escape, and while he was terrified for them, he also knew his task, his sacred mission, was to protect this child.

He’d been led to her. All his life had been about getting him to this place, at this time, to protect this child. He didn’t know why, but of that much he was certain.

He stood now on a steep slope beside the long-abandoned railroad tracks. The rails had rusted, and large sections were missing. Most of the wooden parts had rotted away, and weeds had sprung up around and in between what was left. The only logical way to go was down the slope, and he moved as quickly as he could without falling. Stones and pieces of shale slid beneath his feet until he reached a grassier section, and up ahead he saw conifer trees that would hide him from prying eyes.

He looked behind him as he approached those trees, praying he would see Lilia and Demetrius coming after him, but there was no sign of them. No sign of any of Sindar’s thugs, either. Perhaps they didn’t know yet that he and the baby had fled.

He couldn’t wait for Demetrius and Lilia. They’d risked everything to save Eleanora, and it would be a betrayal of them both if he didn’t get the child to safety. That was his task. His duty. It was what Demetrius had pleaded with him to do, though leaving them behind was difficult.

So he went quickly into the fragrant pine forest at the bottom of the incline, and from there he kept on going, moving as fast as he could while barefoot. He was often barefoot. It was nothing new to him. But he was usually walking in complete oneness, slowly and calmly, feeling every twig and pebble beneath his soles as he walked in a Zen-like rhythm. Tonight he was racing, not Zen at all but running for his life...no, for her life. For the life of the child he was sworn to protect. And because of that his footsteps fell hard and gracelessly, and the twigs and pebbles beneath his feet poked and stabbed and hurt.

He ran until he could run no farther, then finally stopped and leaned against the sticky bark of a tall pine tree, trying to slow his breathing enough that he could hear something besides the sound of it rushing in and out of his lungs. His pulse pounded in his temples.

Eventually his body quieted and he listened.

There was an owl. Three sharp hoots. An omen of death.

But he did not hear the sound of pursuit.

Perhaps he and the child were safe, at least for the moment. Now all he had to do was figure out where he was and how to get home.

The owl hooted again, another chorus of three in a row, and Bahru shivered. Perhaps the omen was for Lilia and Demetrius.

* * *

“Replace the table, and do something with those chains. Repair them. I don’t care how.” Sindar’s men rushed to obey, several of them going to the concrete dais that was standing upright near the hole in the ceiling. They knocked the thing over, straining to get it right side up, and then they pushed it back to its former position between the twin pillars.

Next they approached Lilia.

“No.” Demetrius stepped in front of her, gently holding her behind his back. “No, you will not take her from me again. Not again.” He still wore the black clothing of one of the henchmen, but he’d discarded the mask. There was no point in hiding his face. Sindar knew him.

The two thugs hesitated, perhaps afraid of the fury in his eyes or the thundering timbre of his voice. They should be afraid. They should be very afraid. They looked to their leader for instruction.

Sindar held up a hand and strolled closer, standing nose to chest with Demetrius, who would have hit him if four goons hadn’t jumped into action, grabbing his arms, two on each side, as soon as they’d seen their beloved master moving into harm’s way.

Sindar had to tip his head back to look Demetrius in the eye. “She got to you, didn’t she, Demetrius? Just as I warned you she would. Look at you. You’re weak. You’re mortal.” He spat the word as if it were something disgusting. “Or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Demetrius’s eyes widened as he shot a look behind him and Lilia shook her head. “It can’t be,” she whispered. “I haven’t given it to you.”

“The soul knows its home, witch. It strains, always, to return. Your consort’s resistance kept it from doing so, but that resistance vanished, most likely when he saw you lying dead on my floor. And when you revived from your temporary death, his soul returned to him.”

“But...he chose to wait. To vanquish you before—”

“It need not be a conscious choice, you stupid woman. His love for you, for the child...it left him weak, too weak to even realize what he was asking.” Sindar pressed his lips, shaking his head. “I can no longer destroy him forever, as I had hoped to do. But I can kill you both. And I promise you that when it’s done, I will kill the rest of your family, including that disgusting little witch’s spawn in the cage over there, and her Hindu nanny with her.” He stopped speaking, because he had turned to look toward the cell in the back of the room as he’d threatened Eleanora and his eyes narrowed on it suspiciously. He looked at Indy, then at the gaping hole in the ceiling, and then toward the cell again. With a flick of his wrist, he said to one of his minions, “Check on our prisoners.”

A man wearing a rubberized likeness of Bill Clinton over his head trotted over as ordered. Two others, both wearing stocking masks, hovered in front of Demetrius, waiting to take hold of Lilia.

“It’s nearly Beltane,” Sindar said. “I’m going to sacrifice you again, witch. I want you to die knowing your sisters and their lovers and that child will soon follow.” He looked Demetrius in the eye. “And I’m going to make you watch again, traitor.”

“The guru and the child are gone, master!” shouted the man who’d gone to check.

The two men waiting to grab Lilia moved in closer. Demetrius kicked one in the face, sending him crashing to the floor, taking his fellow with him, then Demetrius twisted and stomped the foot of one of his captors. That man let go of his arm and fell, knocking over the other thug on that side. Demetrius cocked his newly freed arm and punched one of the men on his other side in the face, while Lilia locked her fists together and brought them down on the head of the last man still clasping Demetrius’s arm.

But more came, and soon they were surrounded. Lilia punched, kicked and fought as hard as she could, but despite the amulet she wore, there was no more supernatural boost to her fighting than there was to Demetrius’s.

It was true, Demetrius realized, as he threw himself at yet another black-clad minion. Their powers were gone. His soul was intact. Even amid all the chaos, he knew it. Colors were brighter, and he could smell the air, musty and old with hints of the thugs’ stale sweat. Lilia was more vividly beautiful than ever, his love for her more poignant and potent than it had ever been.

He met her eyes, and she sent him a slight smile. Yes, she knew it, too, knew his soul was intact, that he was once again the man she loved. The man she
still
loved.

Then a sudden crack split the air and silenced them all. Sindar was standing there with a gun in his hand, smoke ribboning from the barrel. The men who’d been all over Demetrius backed away, and he saw Lilia’s gaze turn horrified. And that was when the pain finally made its way to his awareness. He looked down and saw that his hand was pressed to his belly, and there was blood seeping through his fingers.

Lilia lunged toward him, but she was immediately caught by the guards and could only watch as he sank to his knees. His eyes found hers, and his lips formed words.
I love you,
he tried to tell her, but no sound emerged. And then he fell facedown into darkness.

* * *

“Such a vile little device, isn’t it?” Sindar asked, looking contemplatively at the gun as Lilia screamed and struggled against the hands that held her. “I much prefer the old ways. Slice the jugular, burn alive, or...oh, I don’t know, throw someone from a cliff.” His eyes lit, and he gave her an evil smile. “Now, that’s an interesting notion, isn’t it?”

“Are you just going to let him lie there and bleed to death?” she cried.

“I don’t think you’re listening to me.”

She shot a seething look at him. “Let me help him. Please, I beg of you, let me—”

“Are you not hearing me, Lilia? I’m telling you that we are going to do this exactly the way we did it before. There’s a perfect spot not far from here. Black Rock Gorge—one of the many gorges this area is famous for. Students from the local schools fling themselves into it over broken hearts and after too much alcohol, so it’s already been purified by blood. A perfect place for a sacrifice. What do you say, witch? Shall we do it all again, for old times’ sake?”

She shivered. “We’ll be together. You can’t stop us.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I can strip his soul from him again. I managed it once, after all.” Sindar pointed to two men, then to the door. “Go after the swami and the babe. Bring them to me at the top of Black Rock Gorge.” He slid a sly look her way. “Yes, I admit it. I planned to kill them the whole time. I know Marduk will forgive me.” Then he turned, his robes swooshing with the motion. “Bring her. Bring him, as well. And see to it that he doesn’t bleed out on the way. I want him to watch his beloved witch die all over again.”

Lilia’s tears burned twin paths down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She could not believe the Gods had allowed her a chance to make this right and she had failed...again.

There would be no more mercy. No further chances. She only prayed she could somehow prevent Sindar from taking her love’s soul again, so they could be together in the afterlife. She prayed in silence for that, and prayed, too, for her sisters and little Ellie, for Tomas and Ryan, for her mother, the mother she hadn’t had the chance to bid farewell.
Please let them stay safe. Please.

The men tugged her into motion. Others brought the mattress from the cell and laid it down beside Demetrius. Then they rolled his big body onto it and carried it as if it were a stretcher.

Like some dark parade, they marched up the creaking, groaning stairs, out the doorway at the top, through the tunnel and out into the dawn.

* * *

The vehicles skidded to a halt where the road ended and a footpath following the railroad bed led up into the forest. Lena was out of Ryan’s big black truck almost before he’d brought it to a halt, with Ryan and Gus right behind her as she ran to what remained of the railroad tracks. Tomas and Indy got out of his once-white Volvo and hurried to join them. Tomas was carrying a shotgun.

“This way,” Lena said. “The bomb shelter was built beneath a tunnel through the mountain where the trains used to run. All we have to do is follow the tracks.”

“I don’t like this.” Indy moved up beside her and clasped her hand. “It’s too easy.”

“It doesn’t matter. We have to go.”

“I know that.”

The sisters met each other’s eyes and then, with a firm nod, began walking. Ryan started out with them, holding Lena’s other hand, but fell back when they got to the tracks, because the way wasn’t wide enough to walk three abreast. Magdalena knew he understood that she and her sister needed each other right now and she sent him a silent thank-you with her eyes. He acknowledged it with a worried nod as he walked beside Tomas, directly behind them. Gus brought up the rear.

The sun was climbing. If the situation had been different, Lena thought, it would have been a beautiful morning for a walk through the woods. There were birds singing everywhere, and the fragrances of apple blossoms and a few early honeysuckle vines were heavy. But the situation wasn’t different, and she had no idea what they were going to find at the end of their travels.

Soon enough the tracks sloped upward and the dark mouth of the tunnel loomed ahead.

“What’s the pendulum doing?” Indy asked in a harsh whisper.

Lilia touched the stone where it rested against her skin. “Not a thing.”

“I know you two are the super witches and all,” Ryan said softly, “but would you mind letting us go first?”

Tomas looked at him sharply. “That’s a completely sexist idea. And I concur. Step aside, ladies.”

The two men squeezed past them, each one delivering a touch, a kiss, to his woman as he passed. Gus remained at the rear, saying nothing. And then they were moving forward again, the five of them, into the dark tunnel. Lena sensed they were heading for battle. She was as tense and wary as if they were walking into Armageddon. They slowed their steps as every trace of light was left behind them. Each footfall created an eerie echo, and yet they heard no other sound, no indication of human presence.

“We need a light,” Lena whispered.

“That could give us away,” Ryan said.

“We don’t have a choice.” Indy pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight app. “There must be a stairway or something.”

Ryan turned and asked, “Can I have that a minute?”

Indy handed it over and he aimed it toward the tunnel’s sides, illuminating a metal door that looked as if it had been hit by a train at some point.

Lena swallowed hard and stopped walking. “That could be it. That could be where Ellie is. Goddess, why’s it so quiet?”

Tomas shouldered his shotgun as Ryan pulled the door open. It groaned so loudly there was no way whoever was inside hadn’t heard it.

But as the men moved beyond the door, nothing happened. And when Lena saw Tomas lower his gun her heart fell.

“There’s no one here,” Ryan said.

“There has to be.” Lena pushed past them, hurrying down the unsteady stairway as the rising sun illuminated the place through a hole in the domed ceiling. The others followed, their steps banging like cymbals. She crossed the concrete floor at the bottom, then went still, because there was blood. There was a lot of blood.