Queen of The Hill (Knight Games) (20 page)

“The mother is the creator and the destroyer. I was hoping she’d come as the crone, to give you wisdom regarding your circumstances. If she came as the mother, it was either to warn you or to empower you. Which was it?”

I shrugged. “She warned me that Tabetha was after the five elements and that if she succeeded in obtaining them, the results would be disastrous. She didn’t pontificate on what those disastrous results might be, but she did mention that Tabetha has become less human since absorbing Polina’s power. She ordered me not to turn over my territory.”

“Did she give you any idea of how to stop Tabetha from taking it?”

I decided not to mention her suggestion that I allow her to kill Logan. Rick would agree, and it was absolutely unacceptable to me. I jumped straight to the ending. “She gave me permission to kill Tabetha.”

“She said that? Specifically? ‘I give you permission.’”

“Yes, to kill Tabetha.”

“That’s very rare, and potentially problematic.”

“Why?” I frowned. I didn’t like the sound of that.

“Did she have dogs with her when she said the words?”

“No. A snake. She was playing with a snake at the time.”

He grimaced.

I shrugged. “There was also a toucan and a butterfly. We were in the jungle.”

“But when she said the words, she was holding a snake?” he clarified.

“Yes.”

“The snake is a symbol of her divine heritage. She’s a chthonian, a goddess of the underworld. Why would she want to draw your attention to her family tree? Did she say anything about how you could kill Tabetha? She’s immortal.”

“Yes,” I said. “She said to remember Kronos. She also said that Tabetha’s power is no longer her own and to kill her I must use the source of her power against her.”

“Kronos? You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Who the hell is Kronos anyway?”

“Legend has it that Kronos was the son of the earth and the sky—the god of time and of the ages in some lexicons. If you believe folklore, he was Hecate’s great uncle. It is said Kronos was dismantled by his own children and imprisoned in hell for centuries.”

“Children of Kronos? Like in Greek mythology? Zeus, Hera, Hades.”

“Hecate is said to be the daughter of the Titans Asteria and Perses.”

I laughed. “Is that real?” The idea that Greek mythology had even a hint of truth to it disturbed me to my core.

Rick tipped his head back and forth. “What is true? True is what exists. All of the stories are interpretations, folklore. What is important is Hecate is real, and her reference to Kronos clearly is a hint that Tabetha can be destroyed as Kronos was destroyed.”

“That doesn’t make sense. I’m supposed to use Tabetha’s progeny to bring her down? She doesn’t have any children.”

“No. None that I know of.”

“Hecate also said Tabetha’s power is not her own. What do you think that means?”

He shook his head.

I sighed. “She’s a wood witch. Maybe I should stock up on weed killer.” I laughed. Rick did not join in. “What’s bothering you?” I asked him.

“If Hecate gave you permission to kill Tabetha, it means the goddess is threatened by the idea of one of her children acquiring the five elements.” Rick leaned his elbows on his knees.

“And?”

“And if you kill Tabetha, you will inherit wood and metal. You already have air and have access to earth through me. That only leaves water.”

“I’d be just as powerful as Tabetha,” I said, confused. “Why would she allow that?”

Rick rubbed his temples for a moment with his thumb and forefinger. “I can think of only three possible reasons.”

“And they are?”

“First, it could be a test. Hecate wants to know she can trust you. She gives you permission to kill Tabetha but expects you to renounce the territories you stand to inherit. When she told you about Kronos and held out the snake, she was challenging you to remember your heritage and refuse the role of the power-hungry Zeus. The snake and Kronos were a warning to refuse additional power.”

“Okay. So if I kill Tabetha, I refuse her territory. Check.”

“The second interpretation is that she was baiting you. She gave you a ridiculous and impossible solution to a complex problem. Perhaps her goal was to force you to default to a simpler solution.”

“Like?”

“I think you know,
mi cielo
.” Rick stared at the sidewalk and did not say it. We both knew what he was thinking.

“Allowing her to kill Logan.”

Rick gave a curt nod.

“And the third possibility?”

“She expects you to succeed, and when you do, she plans to kill you herself and anoint new Hecates to take your place.”

“Can she do that?”

“Hecate has an appetite for human men. Her children number in the thousands. She only awakens the power within some of them. Others die never knowing.”

“Great.” I leaned back against the park bench. “I could have a goddamned Greek-goddess bull’s-eye tattooed on my chest right now. Well, I sure as hell am not going to accept any new territories.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Frankly, I’m hoping to get out of the entire kill-Tabetha scenario.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“I think I’ve found a way to keep Logan alive. If I get him out of the picture, she’ll be forced to come to me directly if she wants my territory. She’s already experienced how that will turn out. I kicked her ass at the vampire challenge. Maybe she’ll come to her senses and give up on the entire thing.”

Rick straightened. “You don’t actually believe she’ll give up?”

“Maybe not right away, but I think she might turn her attention elsewhere.”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin skeptically.

“How do you plan to protect Logan?”

I thought of the promise Gary had made me. “Maybe the less you know, the better.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Too late,
mi cielo
. I can hear your thoughts,” Rick said, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “Do you think you can trust Gary?”

“No,” I said.

“As long as you’re clear on that.”

I sighed and stretched my legs out in front of me. Not only did I not trust Gary, I was positive Tabetha could find Logan if she tried hard enough. I was also sure she could blow through a legion of vampires to get to him. Our success depended on two things: first, that Tabetha would wait until the last possible moment to kill Logan, and second, that Gary would succeed in keeping Logan in my territory. My only hope of defeating Tabetha was luring her here. It was a long shot, but it was my only shot.

For a long moment, we sat shoulder to shoulder, staring at the cars passing by on the street. It was a cold day, but for the first time that year the sky was blue and sunny. I crept my hand across the space between us and threaded my fingers with his. I had no idea how to stop Tabetha and was grasping at a thread of hope that I could save Logan, but somehow, I felt like everything would be okay as long as Rick and I were together.

“You wanna get lunch? There’s a place a few blocks from here with wicked-good falafel.”

“I was just thinking nothing would make this day complete like a good falafel.”

“You have no idea what a falafel is, do you?”

He flashed me a half-grin. “No.”

We looked at each other and chuckled. Hand in hand, we rose from the bench and meandered toward lunch as if we had all the time in the world, as if an evil witch didn’t want us dead, as if nothing could ever touch us.

“I
t’s done.” Gary’s voice was low and steady.

“Good. And you’re sure Logan is in a place Tabetha won’t find him?”

“Positive.”

I didn’t ask for details. “I’ll be in touch after the ceremony.” I tapped the end call button on my phone.

Light streamed through my window, and I smiled. The big day was finally here. I was getting married. And what a beautiful day it was. I’d heard it said that March came in like a lion and went out like a lamb. Today was all lamb. Sunny. Sixty degrees. Not a cloud in the pristinely blue sky.

Poe landed on the branch of the oak tree outside my window and tapped his beak on the glass. I flipped open the locks and slid the panel up so he could fly inside.

“Good morning, dear witch. You will be pleased to know that your father and bridesmaids are pulling into the drive.”

I glanced at the time on my phone and smiled. “Right on schedule.”

Flying down the stairs, I unlocked the door. My father kissed me on the cheek by way of hello. Soleil and Michelle swept passed me into the foyer, arms laden with dress bags and packages. They pulled me by the elbows into the kitchen on a sea of babbling girl talk. A scent-cloud of perfume, fresh nail polish, and face cream followed them inside.

Michelle handed me a breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee, while Soleil messed with the tangle on my head. “Your hair needs work,” she said.

“I haven’t even showered yet,” I said, biting into breakfast.

Michelle’s mouth dropped open. I noticed her hair was already professionally styled with a purple orchid pinning up a swag of her bangs. “You’re getting married in three hours, Grateful. Maybe you should get a move on.”

I took another bite of sandwich. My dad was already in his tux, but Michelle and Soleil were still in street clothes. “You guys aren’t dressed yet.”

Soleil frowned. “All we have to do is zip on our dresses and we’re ready. The photographer is going to be here in thirty minutes.

“Photographer? What photographer?”

Soleil just shook her head. “The one I hired to photograph your wedding as a gift for you. Now, unless you would like to be memorialized in your pajamas, may I suggest you get on with it?”

I popped in the last bite of sandwich and burned my tongue washing it down with the coffee. “I’m on it,” I said, smiling. On the way upstairs, I grabbed the bag from Evenrose Bridal emporium out of the closet and took it with me.

After a long, hot shower, Soleil put my hair up while Michelle did my nails. I did my makeup, light and natural; Rick liked it that way. When it was time to put on the dress, Michelle audibly inhaled.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, holding the dress in my hands.

“You still haven’t tried it on,” she accused.

“No,” I admitted. “But I have a feeling.” In front of my full-length mirror, I stepped into the dress and pulled it over my shoulders.

Michelle, already in her violet-colored halter dress, zipped the back over Nightshade. “Oh, Grateful.”

Antique lace arced high on the back of my neck and then plunged into a deep vee that revealed a tasteful amount of cleavage. The dress skimmed over my waist and hips, straight down, sheath style, a modest train sweeping around the back. The dress was sleeveless but with a full back that easily concealed Nightshade. The lace was old, but the style was new, as was the designer. The dress was a perfect metaphor for Rick and me.

“It is exquisite,” Soleil said.

“How?” Michelle asked. “It looks like it was made for you.”

Poe coasted into the room and landed on the edge of the mirror. “I think it was,” he said softly. “That lace looks familiar.”

“This was designed last year, Poe.”

“Maybe the dress itself, but the material …” He shook his head. “Uncanny.”

I shrugged. “There’s only one person who will remember for sure, and he’s waiting for me at the end of the aisle.”

I turned sideways to get a good look at the row of buttons running along my spine and glimpsed my dad in the reflection. He stood in the doorway to my bedroom, eyes misty. I turned my head to face him as he approached and put his hands on my shoulders.

“You’re gorgeous, inside and out. Your mother would be proud of the woman you’ve become.”

Tears rolled over his cheeks, and a lump formed in my throat at the sight. My lids held back a pool of emotions.

“Stop, Dad. You’re going to ruin my makeup,” I said through a smile. “No crying.”

He wiped his face and grinned, taking my hands in his. “Your dress is new and your engagement ring is blue, so that leaves old and borrowed, right?”

I nodded.

Dad pulled a triple-strand pearl bracelet from his pocket. “It was your mother’s. She wore it the day we were wed. I know she’d want you to wear it today.”

There was no stopping the tears this time. I watched as he fastened the delicate bracelet around my wrist. Feminine and elegant, it embodied how I envisioned the mother I’d never met, the mother who gave her life bringing me into this world. “Thank you,” I said, throwing my arms around his neck. He gave me a firm hug in return.

The doorbell rang.

“That would be the photographer,” Soleil said. “Freshen up and meet us downstairs.”

By “freshen up,” she meant “clean up the black trail of mascara winding down your cheeks.” I did and met everyone at the bottom of the stairs where Soleil was passing out the nosegay-style bouquets. The flowers were the same as the ones Rick had bought for me: roses, lilies, and exotic flowers. Michelle and Soleil’s were colorful versions of my white bouquet.

For the next hour, I posed and smiled while a man with hair the color of Concord grapes and webbed fingers clicked away on his camera. The smell of fresh, running water followed him from room to room. I didn’t ask what kind of fae he was. I didn’t want to be rude.

We posed on the stairs, in the wine cellar, even in the front yard, which was cold but graciously free of snow for the first time all winter. My smile was genuine. It was all I could do not to ruin my makeup with more tears.

Finally, I heard Soleil say, “It appears it is time to go.” Her sunny disposition filled the lawn with warmth, and I followed her line of sight up the street to a horse-drawn carriage trotting toward us.

“Is this for me?” I asked.

“My treat,” Michelle said. “Believe it or not, Red Grove has one. Same guy who owns the Gilded Rooster.”

A giant white horse pulled a carriage into my driveway, an old man in a stovepipe hat at the reins. The driver hopped down and opened the door for us. I held up one finger and rushed inside for my bag, a beaded white clutch the size of a brick. The four of us climbed in to the carriage and took seats on velvet-covered benches that smelled of hay and burning leaves.