Huntress, Black Dawn, Witchlight (8 page)

Then she realized what was wrong.

“You took too much blood, you jerk.” She tried to put her usual acidity into the words, to cover up her weakness. “It was just supposed to be a ritual thing, but you lost control. I should’ve known you would.”

Something flickered in Morgead’s eyes, but then his mouth hardened. “Tough,” he said shortly. “You shouldn’t have given me the chance.”

“I won’t make the same mistake again!” She struggled to a sitting position, trying not to show the effort it cost her. The problem—again—was that she wasn’t a vampire. She couldn’t recover as quickly from loss of blood…but Morgead didn’t now that.

Not that he’d care, anyway.

Part of her winced at that, tried to argue, but Jez brushed it aside. She needed all her strength and every wall she could build if she was going to get past what had happened.

It
shouldn’t
have happened, whatever it had been. It had been some horrible mistake, and she was lucky to have gotten away with her life. And from now on, the only thing to do was try to forget it.

“I probably should tell you why I’m here,” she said, and got to her feet without a discernable wobble. “I forgot to mention it before.”

“Why you came back? I don’t even want to know.” He only wanted her to leave; she could tell that from his posture, from the tense way he was pacing.

“You will when I tell you.” She didn’t have the energy to yell at him the way she wanted. She couldn’t afford the luxury of going with her emotions.

“Why do you always think you know what I want?” he snapped, his back to her.

“Okay. Be like that. You probably wouldn’t appreciate the chance anyway.”

Morgead whirled. He glared at her in a way that meant he could think of too many nasty things to say to settle on one. Finally he just said almost inaudibly, “What chance?”

“I didn’t come back just to take over the gang. I want to
do
things with it. I want to make us more powerful.”

In the old days the idea would have made him grin, put a wicked sparkle in his eyes. They’d always agreed on power, if nothing else.

Now he just stood there. He stared at her. His expression changed slowly from cold fury to suspicion to dawning insight. His green eyes narrowed, then widened. He let out his breath.

And then he threw back his head and laughed and laughed and laughed.

Jez said nothing, just watched him, inconspicuously testing her balance and feeling relieved that she could stand without fainting. At last, though, she couldn’t stand the sound of that laughing anymore. There was very little humor in it.

“Want to share the joke?”

“It’s just…of course. I should have known. Maybe I
did
know, underneath.” He was still chuckling, but it was a vicious noise, and his eyes were distant and full of something like hatred. Maybe self-hatred. Certainly bitterness.

Jez felt a chill.

“There’s only one thing that could have brought you back. And I should have realized that from the instant you turned up. It wasn’t concern for anybody here; it’s got nothing to do with the gang.” He looked her straight in the face, his lips curved in a perfect, malevolent smile. He had never been more handsome, or more cold.

“I know what it is, Jez Redfern. I know exactly why you’re here today.”

J
ez held herself perfectly still, keeping her face expressionless. Her mind was clicking through strategies. Two exits—but to go out the window meant a three-story drop, and she probably wouldn’t survive that in her condition. Although, of course, she couldn’t leave anyway without doing something to silence Morgead—and she wouldn’t survive a fight, either….

She suppressed any feeling, returned Morgead’s gaze, and said calmly, “And why is that?”

Triumph flashed in his eyes. “Jez
Redfern.
That’s the key, isn’t it? Your family.”

I’ll have to kill him somehow, she thought, but he was going on.

“Your family sent you. Hunter Redfern. He knows that I’ve really found the Wild Power, and he expects you to get it out of me.”

Relief spread slowly through Jez, and her stomach muscles relaxed. She didn’t let it show. “You idiot! Of course not. I don’t run errands for the Council.”

Morgead’s lip lifted. “I didn’t say the Council. I said Hunter Redfern. He’s trying to steal a march on the Council, isn’t he? He wants the Wild Power himself. To restore the Redferns to the glory of old. You’re running errands for
him.
”

Jez choked on exasperation. Then she listened to the part of her mind that was telling her to keep her temper and think clearly.

Strategy, that part was saying. He’s just
handed
you the answer and you’re trying to smack it away.

“All right; what if that is true?” she said at last, her voice curt. “What if I do come from Hunter?”

“Then you can tell him to get bent. I told the Council my terms. I’m not settling for anything less.

“And what were your terms?”

He sneered. “As if you didn’t know.” When she just stared at him, he shrugged and stopped pacing. “A seat on the Council,” he said coolly, arms folded.

Jez burst out laughing. “You,” she said, “are out of your mind.”

“I know they won’t give it to me.” He smiled, not a nice smile. “I expect them to offer something like control of San Francisco. And some position after the millennium.”

After the millennium. Meaning after the apocalypse, after
the human race had been killed or subjugated or eaten or whatever else Hunter Redfern had in mind.

“You want to be a prince in the new world order,” Jez said slowly, and she was surprised at how bitterly it came out. She was surprised at how
surprised
she was. Wasn’t it just what she expected of Morgead?

“I want what’s coming to me. All my life I’ve had to stand around and watch humans get everything. After the millennium things will be different.” He glared at her broodingly.

Jez still felt sick. But she knew what to say now.

“And what makes you think the
Council
is going to be around after the millennium?” She shook her head. “You’re better off going with Hunter. I’d bet on him against the Council any day.”

Morgead blinked once, lizardlike. “He’s planning on getting rid of the Council?”

Jez held his gaze. “What would
you
do in his place?”

Morgead’s expression didn’t get any sweeter. But she could see from his eyes that she had him.

He turned away sharply and went to glower out the window. Jez could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Finally he looked back.

“All right,” he said coldly. “I’ll join Hunters team—but only on my terms. After the millennium—”

“After the millennium you’ll get what you deserve.” Jez couldn’t help glaring back at him. Morgead brought out
all her worst traits, all the things she tried to control in herself.

“You’ll get a position,” she amended, spinning the story she knew he wanted to hear. She was winging it, but she had no choice. “Hunter wants people loyal to him in the new order. And if you can prove you’re valuable, he’ll want you. But first you have to prove it. Okay? Deal?”

“If I can trust you.”

“We can trust each other because we have to. We both want the same thing. If we do what Hunter wants, we both win.”

“So we cooperate—for the time being.”

“We cooperate—and we see what happens,” Jez said evenly.

They stared at each other from opposite sides of the room. It was as if the blood sharing had never happened. They were back to their old roles—maybe a little more hostile, but the same old Jez and Morgead, enjoying being adversaries.

Maybe it’ll be easy from now on, Jez thought. As long as Hunter doesn’t show up to blow my story.

Then she grinned inwardly. It would never happen. Hunter Redfern hadn’t visited the West Coast for fifty years.

“Business,” she said crisply, out loud. “Where’s the Wild Power, Morgead?”

“I’ll show you.” He walked over to the futon and sat down.

Jez stayed where she was. “You’ll show me what?”

“Show you the Wild Power.” There was a TV with a VCR
at the foot of the bed, sitting on the bare floor. Morgead was putting a tape in.

Jez settled on the far end of the futon, glad for the chance to sit.

“You’ve got the Wild Power on
tape
?”

He threw her an icy glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, on
America’s Funniest Home Videos.
Just shut up, Jez, and watch.”

Jez narrowed her eyes and watched.

What she was looking at was a TV movie about a doomsday asteroid. A movie she’d seen—it had been awful. Suddenly the action was interrupted by the logo of a local news station. A blond anchorwoman came on screen.

“Breaking news in San Francisco this hour. We have live pictures from the Marina district where a five-alarm fire is raging through a government housing project. We go now to Linda Chin, who’s on the scene.”

The scene switched to a dark-haired reporter.

“Regina, I’m here at Taylor Street, where firefighters are trying to prevent this spectacular blaze from spreading—”

Jez looked from the TV to Morgead. “What’s this got to do with the Wild Power? I saw it live. It happened a couple weeks ago. I was watching that stupid movie—”

She broke off, shocked at herself. She’d actually been about to say “I was watching that stupid movie with Claire and Aunt Nan.” Just like that, to blurt out the names of the humans she lived with. She clenched her teeth, furious.

She’d already let Morgead know one thing: that a couple of weeks ago she’d been in this area, where a local news station could break in.

What was
wrong
with her?

Morgead tilted a sardonic glance at her, just to show her that he hadn’t missed her slip. But all he said was “Keep watching. You’ll see what it’s got to do with the Wild Power.”

On screen the flames were brilliant orange, dazzling against the background of darkness. So bright that if Jez hadn’t known that area of the Marina district well, she wouldn’t have been able to tell much about it. In front of the building firefighters in yellow were carrying hoses. Smoke flooded out suddenly as one of the hoses sprayed a straight line of water into the flames.

“Their greatest fear is that there may be a little girl still inside this complex—”

Yes. That was what Jez remembered about this fire. There had been a kid….

“Look here,” Morgead said, pointing.

The camera was zooming in on something, bringing the flames in close. A window in the pinky-brown concrete of the building. High up, on the third floor. Flames were pouring up from the walkway below it, making the whole area look too dangerous to approach.

The reporter was still talking, but Jez had tuned her out. She leaned closer, eyes fixed on that window.

Like all the other windows, it was half covered with a wrought-iron screen in a diamond pattern. Unlike the others, it had something else: On the sill there were a couple of plastic buckets with dirt and scraggly plants. A window box.

And a face looking out between the plants.

A child’s face.

“There,” Morgead said.

The reporter was speaking. “Regina, the firefighters say there is definitely someone on the third floor of this building. They are looking for a way to approach the person—the little girl—”

High-powered searchlights had been turned on the flames. That was the only reason the girl was visible at all. Even so, Jez couldn’t distinguish any features. The girl was a small blurry blob.

Firefighters were trying to maneuver some kind of ladder toward the building. People were running, appearing and disappearing in the swirling smoke. The scene was eerie, otherworldly.

Jez remembered this, remembered listening to the barely suppressed horror in the reporter’s voice, remembered Claire beside her hissing in a sharp breath.

“It’s a kid,” Claire had said, grabbing Jez’s arm and digging her nails in, momentarily forgetting how much she disliked Jez. “Oh, God, a kid.”

And I said something like, “It’ll be okay,” Jez remembered.
But I knew it wouldn’t be. There was too much fire. There wasn’t a chance….

The reporter was saying, “The entire building is involved….” And the camera was going in for a close-up again, and Jez remembered realizing that they were actually going to
show
this girl burning alive on TV.

The plastic buckets were melting. The firemen were trying to do something with the ladder. And then there was a sudden huge burst of orange, an explosion, as the flames below the window
poofed
and began pouring themselves upward with frantic energy. They were so bright they seemed to suck all the light out of their surroundings.

They engulfed the girl’s window.

The reporter’s voice broke.

Jez remembered Claire gasping, “No…” and her nails drawing blood. She remembered wanting to shut her own eyes.

And then, suddenly, the TV screen flickered and a huge wall of smoke billowed out from the building. Black smoke, then gray, then a light gray that looked almost white. Everything was lost in the smoke. When it finally cleared a little, the reporter was staring up at the building in open amazement, forgetting to turn toward the camera.

“This is astonishing…. Regina, this is a complete turnaround…. The firefighters have—either the water has suddenly taken effect or something else has caused the fire to die…. I’ve never seen anything like this….”

Every window in the building was now belching white smoke. And the picture seemed to have gone washed-out and pale, because there were no more vivid orange flames against the darkness.

The fire was simply gone.

“I really don’t know what’s happened, Regina…. I think I can safely say that everybody here is very thankful….”

The camera zoomed in on the face in the window. It was still difficult to make out features, but Jez could see coffee-colored skin and what seemed to be a calm expression. Then a hand reached out to gently pick up one of the melted plastic buckets and take it inside.

The picture froze. Morgead had hit Pause.

“They never did figure out what stopped the fire. It went out everywhere, all at once, as if it had been smothered.”

Jez could see where he was going. “And you think it was some sort of Power that killed it. I don’t know, Morgead—it’s a pretty big assumption. And to jump from that to the idea that it was a Wild Power—”

“You missed it, then.” Morgead sounded smug.

“Missed
what
?”

He was reversing the tape, going back to the moment before the fire went out. “I almost missed it myself when I saw it live. It was lucky I was taping it. When I went back and looked again, I could see it clearly.”

The tape was in slow motion now. Jez saw the burst of
orange fire, frame by frame, getting larger. She saw it crawl up to engulf the window.

And then there was a flash.

It had only showed up as a flicker at normal speed, easily mistaken for some kind of camera problem. At this speed, though, Jez couldn’t mistake it.

It was blue.

It looked like lightning or flame; blue-white with a halo of more intense blue around it. And it
moved.
It started out small, a circular spot right at the window. In the next frame it was much bigger, spreading out in all directions, fingers reaching into the flames. In the next frame it covered the entire TV screen, seeming to engulf the fire.

In the next frame it was gone and the fire was gone with it. White smoke began to creep out of windows.

Jez was riveted.

“Goddess,” she whispered. “Blue fire.”

Morgead ran the tape back to play the scene gain. “‘In blue fire, the final darkness is banished;/ In blood, the final price is paid.’ If that girl isn’t a Wild Power, Jez…then what is she? You tell me.”

“I don’t know.” Jez bit her lip slowly, watching the strange thing blossom on the TV again. So the blue fire in the poem meant a new kind of energy. “You’re beginning to convince me. But—”

“Look, everybody knows that one of the Wild Powers is
in San Francisco. One of the old hags in the witch circle—Grandma Harman or somebody—had a dream about it. She saw the blue fire in front of Coit Tower or something. And everybody knows that the four Wild Powers are supposed to start manifesting themselves around now. I think that girl did it for the first time when she realized she was going to die. When she got that desperate.”

Jez could picture that kind of desperation; she’d pictured it the first time, when she’d been watching the fire live. How it must feel…being trapped like that. Knowing that there was no earthly help for you, that you were about to experience the most terrible pain imaginable. Knowing that you were going to feel your body char and your hair burn like a torch and that it would take two or three endless minutes before you died and the horror was over.

Yeah, you would be desperate, all right. Knowing all that might drag a new power out of you, a frantic burst of strength, like an unconscious scream pulled from the depths of yourself.

But one thing bothered her.

“If this kid is the Wild Power, why didn’t her Circle notice what happened? Why didn’t she tell them, ‘Hey, guys, look; I can put out fires now?’”

Morgead looked annoyed. “What do you mean, her Circle?”

“Well, she’s a witch, right? You’re not telling me vampires or shapeshifters are developing new powers like
that.
”