Chapter 779: Galleytrot
I was going to go alone. But there was no way my posse would allow me to leave them behind.
Lula was called away before Gram and her bully pack made themselves very clear.
"You're taking us," she said, linking arms with Shenka even as Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest, scowling at me. Sassafras appeared through the kitchen door, leaping up on the table, tail thrashing in agreement.
Made me happy, despite my one-woman crusade addiction. Filled me with a kind of brilliant joy, as though I'd swallowed the sun. Had to take a second to keep the lump rising in my throat from emerging completely.
Nodded.
Reached for the veil.
We formed a magical daisy chain, my friends and family following behind me as I stepped through and into Ahbi's welcoming embrace. Sassafras leaped at the last minute, landing in my outstretched arms, first through with me as my demon grandmother released us and allowed me to take over.
My maji power sought Maurice-and my son all over again. Though I knew I wouldn't find him, I looked anyway even as the beacon of Mom's secretary drew me to the only place I knew he'd end up.
Almost wished I could leave the others behind and check the full veil for traces of Gabriel anyway. But I'd have his location soon enough.
Sure would.
The power of the stronghold welcomed us as we exited the veil into the main mirror room. A handful of nervous Enforcers bowed to me as I strode past and headed to the elevator, following the pull of Mom, Maurice, Pender. Up, then. Into the tower, the heart of the stronghold.
Light One, his grinding voice spoke in my head, the shivery depth of the earth itself moving. I am pleased you've returned.
I wish the circumstances were better, I sent.
As do I. His sorrow was the sadness of the ages. I am sorry for your progeny's theft. If I can assist you in any way, please ask.
Sure, he was a big castle and everything, but me and stronghold, we were tight.
We didn't rise the entire way, the elevator only taking us up two floors. As I stepped out into a mirror of the circular stone hall I was more familiar with, I immediately noticed differences. There were doors in the middle, not the outside. How much of the tower was solid rock? I approached the central core, rising up to the ceiling, touched the stone.
You are always welcome here, stronghold sent.
Thank you. I patted the cool wall, feeling the rough texture under my fingers before turning and heading around the corridor.
Only took a second. Spotted two Enforcers standing guard outside a door. Almost stopped my forward motion when the one on the right looked up. Met my eyes.
Of all the Enforcers Pender could have assigned. What was he thinking?
Payten's face fell, her head dropping as I hardened myself against seeing her. Quaid's little girlfriend. Was it fair to hate her? Of course not. He'd made his choice, hadn't he? But there she was, and I was already full of fury.
So when she looked up again, met my eyes, opened her mouth, my heart chilled to ice.
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Coven Leader," Payten said.
"Go fuck yourself," I threw back at her with all the venom I could muster.
And pushed past her through the door.
Okay, I didn't normally swear at people, mostly in private or in my head, like I had in the shower.
But somehow, just then, that particular word seemed uber appropriate.
Pender emerged from a smaller door, into the round chamber I now found myself as I entered. He came to me, shoulders sagged forward, anger on his face.
"We've let you down so many times," he said. "Forgive us. Forgive me." His hands clenched at his sides, blue sparks falling to the floor, smoking on the hem of his black robe. "I should have realized it wasn't your son. But we were all so heartsick, and you were in such peril." Pender bowed his head to me. "And it was the best illusion I've ever seen."
My anger toward Payten cooled my jets enough I didn't blow at him, but my ability to feel sorry for other people died with her little attempt to make it all better.
I hoped she and Quaid were happy together.
Not.
I stared up into Pender's aged and weary face. "Where is my son?"
He shook his head, stepped aside, and gestured toward the door. "We have been unable to make him talk." Regret and resignation.
We'd just see about that.
The door opened for me, the stronghold's power ghosting across it. I strode inside the tiny square room, windowless and lit only with a hovering witchlight. To find my mother losing her crap all over the place.
Her power crackled, her face beet red, hair a mass of electrified crazy as she shuddered in front of the small stool where Maurice sat, sobbing.
"YOU WILL TELL ME WHERE HE IS!" Her voice made my bones tremble.
He shook his head. Glanced at me. Paled, his eyes rolling back until only the whites showed.
Teetered from the stool and collapsed, passed out, on the cold stone floor.
Mom spun on me, magic in a frenzied fit. I reached out for her, soothed her, but not with kindness and love, not at all. With the need to take over, to tear him to pieces.
And my mother snarled a smile and backed off.
"He's all yours," she said as Lula appeared, revived Maurice from his faint.
He must have heard her last words because I could feel Lula's magic doing its best to keep him from passing out again.
Mom backed off, my friends and family lining the wall behind me as I slammed the door shut. Sealed it with iridescent fire. And smiled at Maurice.
He squealed like an unhappy piglet, scrambling back away from Lula, hitting the wall hard with his shoulders and the back of his head. The dull echo of his skull bouncing from stone made me smile wider.
I didn't move. Didn't have to. Just watched him as he devolved into utter terror.
Maybe Mom was right. Killing him outright would have been a waste.
This was way better.
"I can't I can't I can't I can't." What I first thought was a panting whine finally evolved into words. "I can't!"
"Can't what, Maurice?" I stepped forward, kicking the stool out of my way. Stood over him. "Because you know I'm going to make you."
He shook his head in a whipping motion, glasses already askew flying free to tinkle on rock.
"She'll kill me." He sobbed into his chubby hands, feet scrabbling on the ground, trying to push himself further from me.
Ameline. Had to be.
I crouched, nodding. "She's not the one you need to worry about."
His whining stilled, whole body frozen. "You have mercy," he whispered. "You won't really kill me. I've seen it, watched you let those who oppose you get away with it." His jowls bounced as he bobbed a crazy nod. "I've seen you."
He thought me weak, did he? Incapable of revenge.
Maybe once. Before my husband died. Before my son was taken from me.
Oh, how things had changed.
He must have seen the truth in my eyes. I'd often joked about killing people, my demon eating their hearts, making fun party decor from their entrails. But I'd seen death, been shocked and horrified by it. Never really thought I could be capable of killing.
I was capable. And absolutely willing.
And he knew it.
Even as my power wrapped around his frantically beating heart and squeezed.
Maurice screamed, body convulsing, falling into panting sobs as I released the pressure.
"You don't know anything about me," I said. "Now, tell me where that bitch has my son or you'll find out just what it is I'm prepared to do to save Gabriel."
Maurice's brain seemed to flare, spark. Settle. I felt the broken pieces of him rupture and float off, but held them together as his mind snapped.
I didn't need him to be coherent. Or all there, not really.
I'd dig around in his head until I had what I wanted. No matter how long it took.
Lula bent beside me, touched his wrist, her healing magic reaching out to him. But she'd shed her own kindness, no matter her natural inclinations to helping others. She met my eyes, sweat standing out on her upper lip.
"I'll keep him together as long as I can," she said. "Ask quickly."
Bless her.
"Where is Ameline?" Because she would be where Gabriel was.
Maurice's lips lifted into an angelic smile. "Don't know," he said in a sing-song voice.
I knew he was telling the truth, didn't need Lula to nod her affirmation.
Damn it.
"Who is she working with?" Mom came to stand behind me, hand on my shoulder.
"The dark," he said. "Rainbows and darkness, all together now."
And my stomach fell to my feet.
"I need to talk to Trill." The dark maji. My friend mentioned them in the past and I'd let it go, allowed her to deal with them. But Ameline was dark maji, followed Dark Fate. And I now understood leaving things to others had been a huge mistake.
Time to rectify the situation.
Mom nodded at my order, spun and left as I unsealed the door and allowed her to go.
Maurice's smile remained, but tears gushed down his cheeks. Gram took Mom's place, sitting cross-legged beside me.
"They have names and faces and places," Gram said.
I glanced sharply at her, at the crazy tone in her voice I thought she'd shed ages ago.
She met my eyes a moment.
I've been down this road, she sent. Trust me.
I did. And held my tongue.
Maurice bobbed a nod. "So many faces," he said, picking at the empty button hole on his vest. "So many places. Close and far, like a star."
Gram's thin, remaining power wove around him. "Star," she said.
"All the time I serve them." Maurice leaned forward, took her hand, whispering in a voice loud enough we all heard. "All the time I watch the witches and tell the dark ones what I see."
A traitor all along. He'd better hope he didn't regain his sanity.
I couldn't imagine being fully aware was a benefit when one burned at the stake.
Then again, I hoped with a fever heat Lula could revive his mind after all.
So he would know when they set him on fire.
"Find the rose." He tugged on Gram. "At the Star. All will be revealed."
What the hell did that mean?
I was done with Lula's control, with Gram's coaxing. I reached past them both and into his shattered mind.
THE ROSE, I sent.
He showed me, reflexive and instantaneous.
And I gasped at the face he showed me.
THE STAR. But this time there was nothing. Only darkness.
At least I had one clue to chase down.
I turned with my heart pounding in desperate hope and met Alison's eyes.
"Well," I said with a snarl in my voice. "Looks like your old maid, Rosetta, has a lot to answer for."
***
