Witch & Curse (46 page)

Cahors witches best beware
As we take to the air
We will kill them where they stand
Everywhere throughout the land

Now we chew upon each bone
Granted us by the Crone
We shall feast with next moon rise
On our victim as he slowly dies

Nicole: Spain, All Hallow's Eve

They had been in the safe house for a week. This particular night, Nicole was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. When a hand on her shoulder shook her gently awake, it was dark. Philippe stood beside her, smiling faintly. “Come on. Time to get up.”

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Nearly midnight.”

“The witching hour?” She smiled.

He laughed low. “You could say that.”

He was again dressed in his cloak, but the hood was folded back behind his head. He held out a cloak to her as she sat up. “You can put this on.”

She grimaced. “What I'd really like are some clean clothes.”

He gestured to the foot of her bed where she saw a shirt and a folded up pair of jeans. “There is a young lady at the villa who is about the same size as you. She donated some clothing.”

“Was this your idea?” she asked, surprised.

“Actually it was José Luís's,” he conceded. “Come, hurry,
ma belle
. Everyone else is outside; come out when you're dressed.”

”Merci
, Philippe.”

Nicole sat up as soon as he left. She spied a water pitcher and a basin on a small table and gratefully discovered that the pitcher had been freshly filled. She peeled off her shirt and splashed some water over her face and shoulders.

She put on the clothes and was pleased to find that they were only a little loose. She ran her fingers through her hair and winced as she tried to pull out the tangles. She must look a fright.
If Amanda could see me now, she wouldn't believe it
. It was a far cry from her days as a beauty queen.

She grimaced as she put on the cloak. The material was thick and course. She lifted the hood up over her head to test the feel. She shuddered slightly as the material engulfed her. Quickly she folded the hood back.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. Outside the five warlocks stood in a loose cluster looking like ghosts in the darkness. As one they turned toward her, the gentle murmur of conversation ceased. She stepped among them, her heart beginning to pound. Dressed as they were it was impossible not to feel a sense of connection, of belonging.

Someone had brought the car up close, and they all piled in except for Armand. As Philippe started the engine, Nicole gestured to the lone figure outside.

“Isn't he coming with us?”

Philippe shook his head. “He will rejoin us soon. For now he has to wipe out the memory of us from this place.”

At her look of slight confusion, Alonzo explained, “Have you ever been someplace where you could feel the history, as though the walls were speaking to you?”

She nodded slowly. “I felt that once. My family went to Washington, D.C., to see some old friends. They took us to see the Ford Theatre where President Lincoln was shot. I felt as though if I closed my eyes I could see it all happening. Is that what you mean?”

“
Sí
. People and events leave their imprint upon places. The walls of a building, for instance, record on a psychic level the events that happen within them. It is just like a path in a forest where animals and people leave footprints. The average person never sees these marks, but to an experienced tracker they are clear and reveal much about the creatures that left them.

“In the same way the average person never senses the psychic imprints left on places unless those imprints are unusually strong, and then they often claim that the place has history or is haunted. To a trained tracker, though—”

“The psychic imprints we leave behind are as easily read as tracks on a trail,” Nicole finished.

“Yes. Armand is staying behind to cover the traces of our passage, much as though he were scraping a branch along the ground and obliterating footprints.”

Nicole shivered. “If he weren't, could someone really find us that way?”

“I could,” Pablo answered quietly.

Nicole twisted in the front seat so she could look back at the boy. His eyes shone in the darkness.

“That you could,” Philippe affirmed. “So, Armand will catch up with us when he's finished.”

“Armand is good at blocking. I can't read him,” Pablo said.

She continued to stare at the boy as she thought,
Unlike me?

He smiled slowly and he looked like a wolf baring its teeth.

Nicole turned back around. She would have to have a talk with Armand later.

They drove in what seemed a winding and circuitous fashion for two hours, skirting at least one village. They pulled off the road and drove for a few more miles. When they finally stopped it was in a large flat field. There were no structures of any kind in view.

“We have several hours yet before dawn. We will wait here for Armand, and when he joins us we will have the ceremony,” José Luís announced.

From the trunk of the car the others pulled out firewood and several packets of what looked like herbs. As they began laying the wood out in preparation for a fire, Nicole turned to Philippe.

“Aren't you afraid someone will see the fire?”

He shook his head. “They will enchant it so that only we and Armand can see it. It will help guide him to us. Come, while they are working we will talk.”

He led her a little ways away so that they could still see the rest of the coven but they could not be overheard. He sat and motioned for her to do likewise.

Once she was seated facing him he asked, “Who is chasing you, Nicole?”

“I don't know,” she stammered, feeling her heart begin to race.

He nodded gravely and took both her hands in his. “Whoever it is is very powerful. Nicole, I fear for you. We must take extra care.”

Nicole felt herself crumble. She was tired of all this; she left Seattle to get away from the witchcraft and the danger. At least she wasn't alone.

“I'm glad you found me.” She sobbed.

He shrugged and reddened slightly. “I have a confession: Our meeting was no accident. We have been searching for you, Nicole of the Cahors, since we heard that you were in Spain.”

She bristled, anxious that they had “heard” of her, hurt that he hadn't told her before. “It's Anderson,” she replied icily, not yet sure how she was going to respond to the other.

“Maybe to them,” he gestured wide, indicating the world with a sweep of his arm. “But here, with us, and here,” he tapped her chest over her heart, “you are Cahors. Yours is an old family, and there is pride to be taken in that.”

“My ancestors were murderers and assassins. No pride there.”

“Not all,” he answered gently. “Some Cahors witches were allied with the covens of the Light and they did much good. Others chose to ally themselves with all the forces of Darkness. And only you, Nicole, can say which side you shall ally yourself with.”

She smiled bitterly. “I would be lying if I denied that I was drawn to the dark.” She thought of Eli and the excitement she had felt when she was with him. She thought of the things they had done together, how she had let him touch her, and she was filled with mixed emotions. Mainly she felt remorse but there was a small part of her that was defiant, that knew that even with the knowledge she had now, she might not change a thing if given the choice. That was the part that frightened her.

Her scalp began to tingle, and she looked away from him. She glanced toward the others and was unnerved to find Pablo staring straight at her. His eyes bore into hers. Did he know what she was thinking? She fervently hoped not and tried to wipe her earlier thoughts from her mind. He shook his head slowly, whether in disapproval or defeat she did not know. At last he turned away and she felt herself sag with relief.

“Pablito sometimes uses his gifts when he ought not. Unfortunately, discretion is one of those things that only time teaches young men,” Philippe observed, having watched the exchange.

Nicole looked back at him guiltily. “Maybe he's right to keep an eye on me.”

He smiled. “Time will tell the truth of that. But for now, come. They are ready for the ceremony.”

He stood and extended his hand. She took it and he helped pull her to her feet. Together they walked back to the fire.

“What sort of ceremony is it?”

“A seeking ceremony. We are asking for visions of the future.”

“So, what, I get to ask to see my future husband?” she joked.

He gave her an appraising look. “Perhaps you will, but it is not for me to say. No one can choose what they are shown.”

As they reached the fire, Nicole noticed that Armand had rejoined them. He nodded at her briefly.

“Now that we are together, we shall begin,” José Luís announced.

They all seated themselves around the fire. The smoke drifting upward carried the scent of burning wood mixed with something else that was much sweeter. Nicole wrinkled her nose, not sure whether the smell was a pleasing one.

They joined hands, and for one wild moment
Nicole thought they were all going to start singing “Kumbayah.” She closed her eyes, willing herself to relax, and took a few deep breaths. The sweet smell wasn't that unpleasant, she decided. It was actually kind of nice.

“We are gathered here to invoke the power of Seeing. We ask for clarity about the path that we are on, where it is leading, and what we must do to uphold the Light. Show us what we must see,” Philippe finished.

“Grant us eyes that we might see,” Armand added.

“Grant us wisdom to know what we must do,” Alonzo said.

“Grant us courage that we might act,” Pablo said.

“Grant us strength that we might prevail,” José Luís concluded.

On either side of her, José Luís and Alonzo released her hands. Nicole opened her eyes and watched as Alonzo picked up a long, crooked white stick that had been sitting on top of the fire. She gasped as she heard the sizzling wood burning his palm. He held it close to his chest and bent his head over it, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Nicole watched as the muscle that ran along the left side of his jaw twitched. At last he looked up and his eyes shone brightly. “I see a great evil reaching
across Europe, its darkness sweeps everything away before it.”

He passed the stick to Armand and picked up a strip of cloth soaking in a bowl of liquid. Gingerly he wrapped it around his burned hand.

Armand bowed his head over the stick reverently. His entire body began to shake. Finally he looked up. “I see myself standing between the Darkness and the Light. We are fighting the Darkness and we are not alone. Others are with us, but there is a great price to be paid.”

He passed the stick wordlessly to Philippe and then took a towel from the bowl handed to him by Alonzo and wrapped his hand. Philippe bowed over the stick for only a moment before looking back up. Tears were shining in his eyes.

“I see myself taking up a great burden and lifting it from the shoulders of another. The burden ages me.”

He passed the stick to Pablo and took a cloth. The young guy bent over the stick for several minutes quietly before he at last looked up.

“I see an island that has been hidden for centuries. There is a man in chains. A woman watches over him; she has always watched over him. She is afraid. Someone else is on the island, and he frightens her.”

José Luís took the stick from Pablo and held it tightly. Nicole could smell his flesh burning as she
watched the tendons in his fingers flexing.

At last he looked up. His voice was eerily calm as he spoke. “I see my death.”

Shocked, Nicole stared at the stick as he offered it to her. She didn't want to take it, didn't want to be burned, and she certainly didn't want to see anything. Still, she reached out her hand and clasped the stick. Her flesh burned and she knew it, but she could feel nothing. She held the stick in front of her.

She saw Eli's face floating before her, laughing, taunting. It faded and another face was there above her. The features were cruel and twisted beneath a mane of blond hair. She screamed and tossed the stick from her.

Alonzo caught the stick in midair and after saying a few words over it, set it gently down. José Luís began wrapping her burned hand in the soothing cloth. “What did you see?” he pressed.

She looked up at him, gasping for air. She had never seen that face before in her life, and yet now she gasped, clawing for breath as if her head was still under the water in the bathtub at the safe house, “I saw ... I saw . . .
my husband.”

She couldn't get warm and she couldn't stop shaking. It was as though she were slowly freezing from the inside out. The ground was hard beneath her and the cloak only kept out the chill of the morning air but did
nothing to warm her. Nicole turned onto her side and tucked her knees up into her chest, trying to block out the vision she had had.

She had seen Eli, and a voice inside her had told her that he was still alive. How could that be? Hadn't he, Michael, and Jer died in the fire? If he was alive, Michael might be too. They could be the evil the others had seen sweeping like a plague across the continent.

She should warn Amanda and Holly. They had a right to know. If it was true then they needed to be prepared.
I should be with them
. She pounded her fist against her thigh.
I don't want to go back. I don't want any part of the magic
.

A voice inside her head mocked her, telling her she was a fool to think that she could ever escape the magic. It had followed her. No, it was in her. She couldn't change that no matter how far she ran.

And what of that other face? She had felt the evil oozing from every pore of the lionesque features. And that voice,
“I shall marry you, Nicole Cahors.”
Who was he and how did he know who she was?