Visions of Chains Page 24

  That word hit him hard and even as he accepted the truth of it, Finn rejected what it meant. An eternity together wasn’t what he had signed on for. Besides, she was expecting him to leave when this mission was complete.

  His arms tightened around her, soothing, giving comfort and taking it as well. Finn stared up at the crystal- studded ceiling above them and told himself that Shauna had known the risks. That fighting in the WLF was a choice they all made and that they had sworn to give their lives if they had to in order to protect others.

  But she hadn’t signed up to be betrayed.

  Deidre’s breathing evened out and her sobs dissolved into tired sniffles. Her body relaxed against his and soon he knew she was in an exhausted sleep. He kissed her head and gently rolled to one side, laying her on the mattress with the utmost care. His hand lingered for a moment on the curve of her cheek and his heart shattered further at the silvery tracks of tears across her skin.

  She’d had too much taken away from her lately and, in response, she’d given of herself and now she had lost something irreplaceable. Deidre would recover, he knew. She was strong and she knew the stakes. So she would pull herself together and carry on—but there would always be a piece of her heart missing. A piece torn out by betrayal.

  And that, Finn wouldn’t stand for.

  He didn’t want to leave her. It tore at him to think of her waking alone and reaching out to find him gone.

  But there was something he had to do and it couldn’t wait. Kissing her gently, he eased off the bed, covered her with the midnight blue duvet, then checked his weapons. When he was ready, he flashed out of the tunnels.

  Kellyn jolted straight up in bed. Morning sunlight crossed the room, reaching for her. But it wasn’t dawn that had awakened her so brutally.

  It was something else.

  Something wrong.

  She reached down inside herself, listening for the witch trapped inside her own body and found her there, screaming for release. Nodding, Kellyn smiled. At least she was still in control of this body. She’d waited too long and come too far to lose now.

  So then, what was it?

  Naked, she climbed out of bed and crossed the luxurious room until she reached the French doors leading onto a terrace. Below her, the city hummed with life, with purpose. Above her, a cold November sky shone a brilliant blue. She shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

  It was, she thought, the feel of one of her spells breaking. An enchantment had come down somewhere in the world and the chill snaking along her skin was the result. A sort of inner radar, letting her know that all was not as it should be.

  “Fat lot of good it does me to know something’s wrong, but not what, exactly.” How the hell could she be expected to fix it if she didn’t know what it was?

  A moment later though, she decided to not worry about it. Things were moving too fast here. She and her partners were almost ready to claim their prize and damned if she’d let anything else interfere with something she’d waited centuries for.

  “Screw you, universe. Do your damndest. You still won’t stop me.”

  The storm raged all around them.

  Lightning flashed across a black sky, spearing toward earth in a tremendous display of the gods having a temper fit. Thunder roared like a caged beast straining to get out and the wind rose up off the sea, tearing at the women’s hair, flinging it into a wild tangle around their heads.

  Yet for all the ferocity of the storm, the candles set at the five points of the pentagram carved into the earth remained lit. The flames didn’t so much as waver, despite the tempest.

  The witches of the last great coven stood in a sacred circle around the pentagram, skyclad, their nude bodies buffeted by wind and rain. Magic sang in the air as they lifted their voices together into a sonorous chant that demanded the attention of the gods. Demanded that they be given the full range of the powers once promised them.

  And at the center of the pentagram they circled was the Black Silver Artifact, the focus of their magic on this night. They each concentrated on the complicated tangle of Celtic knots that gleamed darkly in the intermittent light from the heavens.

  Deidre felt the wind tug at her hair, brush against her skin. Then the kiss of rain fell, softly at first, then harder, colder, slapping her like tiny needles thrown down by their goddess, Danu. She shivered, but remained resolute.

  The sisters had agreed on this course of action. They had learned all there was to know, and they hungered for more. Hungered for the worlds beyond this one. The worlds denied them by jealous gods, protecting their power and domains from any usurper.

  That ended tonight.

  She picked up the chant, letting her voice soar with her sisters. They invoked the old ones, the wise ones. They called on the power of night and the magic of the stars. They resisted the pull of the moon, as the moon served Danu and wouldn’t help them in this task.

  Deidre chanted and while she did, she remembered her battle with Finn. How he had tried to take her from here. To keep her from joining with her sisters. To leave the coven incomplete on its most important night.

  Tossing and turning in her sleep, Deidre moaned, reached across the wide bed for Finn and couldn’t find him. She sighed once in loss and returned to the past . . .

  Finn shouted that she was foolish. Blind. That he was here, and he loved her but she wouldn’t need him. Wouldn’t need anything beyond her sisters and their relentless quest for more power.

  But Deidre did love him and so she told him. Facing down her lover, meeting those swirling pewter eyes that looked like molten silver when he was inside her. She told him then that she would need him tonight, when the spell was cast and the portal into the next world was open. Then she would need him by her side and they would have all that he wanted them to have.

  And in the tunnels, Deidre wept.

  The chanting swelled and magic pulsed from one witch to the next in the circle. The candle flames leaped three feet high with a whoosh of sound that seemed to take all the air from their lungs. The Black Silver hummed, electrified by nature and magic, and behind it, a portal opened.

  Deidre rejoiced. This is what they had worked for. This is what they had earned. She looked outside the circle to the Eternals pacing in their frustration to get within the sacred circle. She searched for the one face she longed to see. Ached to see.

  Finn wasn’t there.

  Then the Hellgate swung wide, and demons emerged in a chorus of shrieks.

  Chapter 34

  A white Ming vase with copper-red detailing of lotus blossoms hit the wall in the Oval Office and splintered into a thousand delicate shards. Once a gift from the premier of China, it was now brightly colored trash.

  “YouTube?” Cora Sterling faced her aide, Darius, and gave her temper free rein. “Someone put a fucking video of Deidre participating in the internment center raid onto the Internet?”

  Darius kept his distance. Ever a wise man, he had learned when to speak and when to shut up. Usually, Cora liked that about him. Today it was an irritation.

  “Well?” she demanded. “Who did it?”

  He cleared his throat, folded his hands in front of him and braced his feet as if expecting an even bigger storm in a moment. “One of the guards who were taken down. It seems that before they were tied up, instead of firing his weapon, this particular guard used his phone to make a video of the assault. And apparently, the video clearly shows—or appears to show—Deidre using magic.”

  Cora’s vision went red around the edges and danced with black spots. She couldn’t speak. She could hardly breathe. Her heartbeat sounded like a bass drum in her ears and even swallowing was damn near impossible. How the hell had this happened? Why weren’t her ministers of security on top of this? Didn’t they screen every damn piece of video some moron uploaded to the In
ternet?

  “Don’t we have laws against this?”

  He whispered something and she turned on him like a snake. “What was that?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, keeping a wary eye on his president. “But the First Amendment still stands. Congress hasn’t passed its revocation yet.”

  “You can’t be serious!” She stalked around the perimeter of her office, frustrated, furious. “They were supposed to have that on my desk last week.”

  “The holidays are coming and—”

  She whipped her head around, glared him into silence and put a tight rein on the temper already out of control. She had to remember who she was. What she was. “Do you think I care about the holidays? This country is in danger every damn moment. With free speech still a way of life, people are inciting riots. They’re posting blogs and Web sites calling for more executions.”

  She took a long, deep breath and remembered the most telling argument she had had for “temporarily” dispensing with the First Amendment to the Constitution. “For the public good, we must censor our own people. They’re terrified and helpless. At the mercy of those who would use fear to win their arguments.”

  “I understand, ma’am, and I sympathize—”

  “I don’t need your pity, Darius,” she snapped. “Only your obedience.”

  “Of course.” He dipped his head in obeisance and she felt a little better.

  “What’s been done about this guard who posted the video?”

  “I believe he’s on unpaid leave from his unit pending investigation.”

  She simply stared at him. It boggled the mind, it really did. “Unpaid leave? That is his punishment from his superiors?”

  “For now, ma’am,” Darius murmured.

  “No, that won’t do.” She walked calmly, coolly, to her desk and deliberately sat behind the stately Resolute desk, used by so many presidents before her. Instantly, Cora felt restraint flood her system as she put things into perspective. One video. How much damage could it have done?

  “Have you pulled the video, Darius?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Homeworld Security pulled it this morning.”

  “After how many viewings?” she asked quietly.

  He frowned, swallowed and winced before admitting, “Two million and change.”

  “Two million?” Cora reached for her calm again, drawing on her years of practice. Her hand fisted around a black onyx pen and squeezed until her knuckles were white. She took deep breaths, willed her heartbeat back into a normal rhythm and at last, conquered her demons long enough to say, “Two million people saw my daughter wielding magic.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It showed her controlling weapons, stopping bullets in midair and being . . . transported by a man made of fire.”

  “Sweet mother of all that’s holy,” Cora muttered. Shaking her head, she took a breath and said, “Obviously, the video was doctored. Special effects these days are so tremendous they can fool people into believing anything. Fine, fine. I’ll take care of this. Set up a press conference for day after tomorrow. Don’t want to rush this or we’ll look worried.”

  “Shall I call your speechwriters in?”

  “No, I’ll be speaking from the heart. The people will see me and believe me,” she said confidently, not sure whether she was reassuring Darius or herself. “If we wait to give the speech, it will give everyone time to think about what they’ve seen and heard. They’ll know that I’ve given the matter much careful consideration. And they’ll believe me when I speak to them.”

  She would do what she had to to protect her daughter. To see that her plans for this nation weren’t sidetracked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Darius said and turned to go.

  “And, Darius,” Cora said, swiveling in her chair to look out over the White House lawn. She saw her aide’s reflection in the bulletproof windowpanes and speared his gaze with hers. “The guard who took the video? Speak to his supervisor immediately. I want his employment terminated.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll see to it personally.”

  He left and Cora was alone. She stared out at the lawn, the protesters out beyond the fence that protected her from the American people and at the city beyond them. Somewhere out there, her daughter was frightened and in the hands of a terrorist.

  She had to get her back.

  Max had already counted his money three times.

  He’d been up all night and now, in the early morning, he still couldn’t seem to stop touching the lovely piles of green in front of him. He’d made neat stacks of hundreds, then he’d spread them across the coffee table like a beautiful green tablecloth. Then he had stacked them again, running his fingers over the crisp bills, counting the ways this was going to get him out of trouble.

  “I’ll pay off the gym. Maybe get a new car,” he told the empty room. “Hell, I can do whatever I want, now.”

  He jolted and leaped to his feet when a pillar of fire appeared in his living room, just inches from him. The flames winked out and Max was staring up into a pair of cold gray eyes.

  “Who the hell—what the hell are you?”

  “Something you never should have pissed off,” Finn told him. He lifted one hand, sent the bills floating to the floor, then stabbed one finger at the closest pile. Flames leaped from his hand to the money and Finn relished Max’s shriek when the bills burned and curled, sending tendrils of smoke upward.

  “Cut it out, man,” Max shouted, dropping to his knees briefly to pat out the fire. “That money’s mine.”

  “I know it’s yours, you little prick.” Finn’s gaze took him in and dismissed him as a worthless pile of shit.

  Max saw the look and made the mistake of getting tough. He got to his feet, bunched meaty fists at his sides and said, “You can’t come in here and—”

  Finn unleashed his sword and the hissing sound silenced Max instantly. His gaze landed on the long, wickedly curved blade that shone in the sunlight pouring through the window.

  “Just a minute, man. We can talk. I mean, uh . . . what’s the deal?” He backed up until he slammed into the wall; then he looked around, terrified, realizing he was trapped. The only way out was through Finn and that was never going to happen.

  He licked his lips, wiped one hand across his broad face and asked, “This is about Shauna, isn’t it?”

  “Give the dick a prize.” Finn watched realization dawn on the bastard’s face and enjoyed the fear that sparked in his eyes. “I’m here because you betrayed Shauna. For money.”

  Max swallowed hard, ran one hand over the sweat beading on his forehead. “She’s gonna be okay. They’ll take the magic out of her and—”

  “She’s dead.” Finn watched the words hit home and he saw, in Max’s eyes, that despite the expression on his face, the man wasn’t surprised. He had known exactly what he was doing. He’d sold Shauna, knowing she’d die. He just hadn’t expected to join her.

  “No, I didn’t mean for that to hap—”

  Finn had had enough. He sent his sword through Max’s middle with one quick blow and the big man just stared at him in disbelief. Pulling his sword free, Finn watched, unmoved, as Max dropped to his knees, hands clutching his belly, where blood spilled out over his fingers to drain onto the floor.

  Calmly, Finn wiped his sword blade on the couch, then resheathed it.

  “But—”

  “Shauna’s dead,” Finn said again. “And now, so are you.”

  He called up the flames and flashed out.

  Alone, Max fell forward and died with the smell of money in his lungs.

  “Where were you?” Deidre was wide awake and waiting for Finn when he appeared in their chamber.

  Frowning, he said, “I went to see Max. He’s dead.”

  “Good.” Deidre spat the word. “But that’s not
what I meant. Where were you back then? When I needed you?”

  Finn sucked in air like a drowning man. It was here then. The confrontation he’d been dreading. She finally had the memory of that night and he couldn’t keep the truth from her any longer. He had hoped that somehow she would regain every memory but that one. He shrugged out of his coat, dropped his sword and knife belt on a table, then turned to face her.

  She looked, he thought idly, much as she had then. The features were different, of course, but there was a prideful tilt to her chin and the promise of retribution in her eyes that was damned familiar. Her magic was shimmering around her in an aura bright enough to light up the chamber, but those eyes looked cool.

  “I was in London.”

  “Why the hell were you there?” she countered. “Every other Eternal was right there that last night. Trying to reach their witches. Trying to stop us. But you—”

  He shoved both hands across the top of his head, then glared at her. “How the hell was I supposed to know you would finally need me?” he snapped the words out, as furious with himself now as he had been eight hundred years ago.

  “I looked for you,” she said and her voice was almost wistful, tearing at Finn like knives.

  His gaze snapped to hers. “You think I don’t know that? That I haven’t known it for eight hundred fucking years?”

  She didn’t even blink at his tone. At what had to be an expression of frustrated fury on his face.

  “You’ve haunted me, Dee,” he admitted in a growl that scraped at his throat as the words escaped. “Through time, I’ve carried you with me. I relive that night over and over again. In my mind, I change things. I do it differently. I’m there, with you when crap rained down on all of us.” He blew out a breath. “But the reality is, I can’t change it. I can only regret it.”

  She scrubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Regrets? I just lived through the reenactment and I can tell you, I’ve got plenty to regret.” Turning her gaze up to him she said, “But you did come to me that night. You were there . . . finally.”

  “This is damned infuriating, defending myself over an eight-hundred-year-old argument.”