Legacy & Spellbound (40 page)

She stroked his hair, damp from perspiration. “I feel the same for you,” she confessed. “I have tried to stop, but I cannot. I do not know much about my family. All I know has come from Isabeau. She spoke to me first on the night that we met.”

“As Jean did for me.”

“I know that our families have battled.”

“And still do,” he affirmed.

“I don't believe it has to continue,” she breathed.

“Nor I. I pledge to you, Veronica Cathers, that my feud with you and yours ends here. I will do everything in my power to turn the Deveraux from their vengeance.”

“And I will work for peace between our two families for the rest of my life.”

They kissed, biting each other's lips until their blood mingled together and sealed the bargain.

“For the rest of my life,” she repeated.

“For the rest of my life,” he answered, whispering.

And as they began to make love again, neither had any idea how short those lives would be.

The earth groaned in anguish as though in the pangs of labor. And as a tremor passed through it, it did give birth to pain, anguish, and loss.

The earthquake struck without warning, jarring Veronica from sleep. Her limbs were tangled with Marc's and he, too, sat upright. Before she could shout a spell, there was the sound of screams and explosions. A mighty groaning ripped through the room, and then the floor collapsed.

Fire had raged through the city following the earthquake. Thousands were dead or dying, and the city was under martial law. It was a high price to pay, but well worth it.

Duc Laurent and Gregory Deveraux stood, looking at the ruins of the Valencia Hotel. All four floors had collapsed into the basement. Gregory stood, not offering even a tear for his brother. The ghostly Duc smiled. “There were no survivors?”

“None,” Gregory intoned.

“Excellent. You have done well.”

Los Angeles: April 18, 1906, 11:50 A.M.

Ginny Cathers stood with thousands of others, reading the huge bulletin boards that proclaimed the latest news from San Francisco.
God protect her,
she thought. She'd had a telegram from Veronica the day before, telling her that she was going to be in San Francisco and was thinking of coming to Los Angeles for a few days when her business in the city was done.

Names of the dead and missing were posted every few minutes. As more buildings collapsed from aftershocks or the fires raging through the city, their names were listed on the board.
So much death, so many lost,
Ginny thought. Her mind turned toward her husband and infant son safe at home several miles away from where she stood.
God protect them.

This is useless. I don't even know which hotel she was staying at,
she thought. Suddenly the earth shifted beneath her feet. Screams rippled throughout the crowd as the earthquake hit. It was small, not large enough to cause any damage, but those who were waiting for word of the final death toll in San Francisco did not know that.

The crowd turned, running away,
as though they could actually escape, somehow.
Ginny was caught up in the tide of stampeding people. She ran because she could do no differently. A screaming man careened
wildly through the crowd, and bounced off Ginny. He kept running, but Ginny stumbled. Someone else slammed into her from behind and she fell, landing hard on her wrist. She tried to push herself up, but someone stepped on her back, shoving her down into the dirt. Suddenly the mob was running over her. She tried to scream, but her cries were lost in the crowd.

Someone kicked her as they rushed by, and she felt her ribs cracking. Pain knifed through her lungs, and she began to cough. Someone else stepped on her back, and another on her good arm.

She tried to get up, but it was no use—bones cracked, and muscle gave out as they trampled her.
I'm going to die,
she realized in horror. She lifted her eyes, blood dripping into them from a wound in her head. Before her, she saw a woman in white standing serene in the throng. People seemed to pass by her, and Ginny blinked fiercely as she saw a couple pass
through
her.

“
Ma petite,
I shall watch over your child,” the woman said.

I believe you,
Ginny thought, with her dying breath.

Playing now our deadly game
The evil that you know by name
Decisions at last must be made
Betrayal is our stock-in-trade

Goddess hear us in the night
Help us now to choose the right
Give Cahors strength to persevere
And banish now our every fear

Avalon: Nicole

Nicole sobbed as pain ripped through her. She was chained to a dungeon wall, not far from the spot where James had once attempted to place her in thrall.

James was attempting now to break the thrall between Nicole and Philippe, her beloved. The two men could not have been any different. James was evil and had married Nicole against her will and kidnapped her twice now. Philippe was good and kind and had
entered with respect and reverence in thrall with her in a ceremony that was a marked difference to the dark wedding James had orchestrated.
Rescue me, Philippe,
she begged mentally, wishing he could hear her.

Thoughts of him calmed her, steadying her nerves and helping her fight the pain. Still, she could feel parts of her mind slipping away. She let part of it go, the part that was horrified at what James was doing to her. The rest of it she tried to keep intact, knowing she would need it when her moment came.
Came. Came, game, same. Same game different name,
she thought to herself.

In front of her, James was cursing. Eli was there, too, standing back in the shadows and watching the proceedings.

Eli was staring at her through narrowed eyes, and she could all but see the wheels in his head turning.
Turning, burning, churning,
she thought, trying to distract herself from the pain.

James cut a thin line across her abdomen. She could feel the blood spilling out and running down into her jeans and underwear.
Yearning, spurning, learning.

James next cut a line in her forehead; blood rolled down her face and she tasted it on her lips.
Earning, concerning, kerning … is
kerning
even a word?

“Witch!” James shrieked, and cut a circle around her heart.
Witch, hitch, ditch.

“I cut him from your mind, heart, and your organs,” James crowed.

Pitch, rich.

“I shall cut him from your loins as well.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she focused her sight on the knife he held in his hand.

Bitch.

She kicked, and the knife went flying in a wide arc, landing at Eli's feet. She stepped away from the wall.
“Libero!”
she said in a singsong voice, and the chains fell from her wrists.

Eli stared at the knife where it lay at his feet. He bent and picked it up, brushing his thumb slowly along the blade. It was stained with blood, Nicole's blood. Before Nicole had belonged to Philippe or James, she had belonged to him.
She was my girlfriend and she adored me.
He stared at James as he grappled with Nicole.
He took her because I was intimidated by him. He had no claim to her but he took her, anyway. He is arrogant, proud, and he doesn't care whom he crushes, just like my father. Just like me.

Nicole fought back tooth and nail, like a wildcat, and he couldn't help but feel a stirring of pride.
I remember when she couldn't have hoped to defend herself with magic or with fists. She has learned so much the last two years …

… and I wasn't the one to teach her.

I should have been. Back when she was starting to dabble in magic. I should have shown her. Maybe then she would be in thrall to
me …
maybe she would be
my
wife… .

He shook his head fiercely.
I don't want her.
It was a lie, though, and he knew it. He had never really stopped wanting her.

Maybe I should help her,
he thought, as James threw Nicole into a wall. He took a step forward before he could stop himself.
Fool, she's probably put a spell on you.

He forced himself to breathe deeply as he crossed his arms over his chest.
She means nothing to me,
he told himself as James knocked her unconscious.

Nicole's body slid down the wall to the ground. He stared at her crumpled, battered form. James stood panting, blood streaming down his face from scratches around his eyes.

“Hellcat,” James spat. “She's useless now. We'll sacrifice her tonight, a gift to the Horned God.”

Eli blinked, not entirely sure what he thought of that.

Supreme Coven: London

Every corner of the Supreme Coven shook as a roar of rage ripped through it. Every creature residing within, from the most powerful demon to the tiniest mouse,
trembled with fear. Sir William's wrath had no bounds.

The skull throne cracked from top to bottom, shards of bone flying through the air and impaling the warlock who trembled before it. He died as his organs ruptured. His companion fell to her knees before Sir William, her head bowed. “My lord, I am, as always, yours to command.”

Sir William stared at the young woman. She was one of the female members of the Supreme Coven. Outnumbered by their male brothers, they often worked harder to gain power and recognition. This young warlock had proven herself time and again in his service.

“Rise, my child,” he commanded her.

Eve rose to her feet but kept her head down. He probed her mind. A myriad of emotions washed over him. Women, be they witch, warlock, or mere mortal, all had a complicated emotional makeup. He slowly peeled back the layers of anger, lust, sorrow, and joy. At last he reached her core, and she shuddered slightly. He pulled back out of her mind, satisfied. The one emotion he had been looking for was absent. She was not afraid of him or of what he had done to her companion.

He smiled slowly, a wicked grin that he knew made him look even more the fiend. Then he rose to
his feet and made his proclamation, projecting his voice throughout every room and cavern.

“Michael Deveraux has broken faith with the Supreme Coven. From this moment forth he is to be hunted by all. Whoever brings me his head will receive my favor and riches beyond his—or her—wildest dreams.”

Eve met his eyes and nodded.

He lifted his hand to her slowly, as in benediction. “Happy hunting, my dear.”

She turned and vanished from sight.

Sir William sat back down on the throne. Michael Deveraux was persona non grata now. Every warlock in the Supreme Coven would be seeking him.

“Michael Deveraux has betrayed us,” a voice hissed from the shadows.

Sir William sighed. “Yes, no surprise there. We should have destroyed House Deveraux years ago.”

“But they alone know the secret of the Black Fire.”

“We've been holding out for it too long already,” Sir William growled.

“So surely a little more time cannot hurt.”

“Unless he brings me Holly Cathers's head, I will have Michael Deveraux's.”

As the voice from the shadows began cackling, Sir William stood. “Guard!”

A warlock swiftly entered the room, eyes probing the darkness. The laughter continued and it visibly unnerved the man. Sir William allowed himself to smile at the other's fear. “Bring James to me. I shall brook no delays.”

The man nodded and disappeared.

“James, your son,” the shadow whispered.

Sir William nodded. “We will soon find where his loyalties truly lie.”

Nicole: Avalon

Nicole woke with a gasp. The last thing she remembered was fighting James. She had been about to try to crack his skull open when he had hit her. She tried to sit up but found that she was tied to her bed. A feeling of dread rose in her.
What has James done?
She managed to turn her head slightly to look at the chains anchoring her left wrist.
Or what is he about to do?

She shivered as she gave the chains a tug. The clanking metal grated upon her ears, and she winced. She raised her head and noticed that her legs were similarly manacled.
Great.
She exhaled slowly.
Goddess, come to me, be with me.

She closed her eyes and tried to center herself, to focus her energy. She concentrated on making a small ball of heat in the center of her being. Her mind
cleared, and she focused.
First the chains around my right wrist.
The metal around the lock groaned and creaked as she willed the pins to start moving.
Eli once taught me to pick a lock the old-fashioned way. I wish instead he had taught me to do it the magical way.
The process was agonizingly slow, but one by one the pins moved into place until only the last remained. She pushed, pouring more energy into the stubborn metal until the entire band about her wrist grew hot and started burning her.