The chain tightened. The ax head moved and thudded around inside the skull. Liz pulled the piece of copper and bones from her bag and tossed them into the pit. They struck the bones and disappeared.
“Ní mór fós i bhfeidhm.”
The leyline sang a note like an angel in heaven, pure and strong and so high it vibrated the stones. And then the ground began to quake.
“Out, out, out!” Liz said, struggling to her feet. Eli yanked them both up by the arms and threw Liz out of the cave, into the hands of Lincoln Shaddock. Vamp-strong, he caught her before she landed in the pool and set her to the side, on the ground. He caught Cia next. And then he grabbed Eli midleap. “Move,” Liz said.
The earth quaked and shook. She fell and Eli dragged her along. Shaddock picked up Cia and carried her down the hill. Vamp-fast. Brute growled and disappeared. Which would probably be freaky if she ever examined it too closely. Behind them, the cave shuddered. Rock fell with a landslide, into the cave itself, and into the water. The cave roof came down. They all fell with the impact. Caught themselves on trees or rolled in the dirt.
When the earth stopped moving, the lovely pool was gone. The waterfall above it was a muddy trickle down exposed rock and a layer of mud.
Ní mór fós i bhfeidhm.Must remain in place. Yeah. A rock slab the size of a car would do it.
Liz
“The witch posingas Golda was a member of Romona Mayhew’s witch family,” Shaddock said, while they waited on the helo at the LZ for an exfil. Military talk from Eli when he called for the helicopter.
Liz and Cia met eyes.
“She targeted you,” Lincoln said. “She knew a demon alone or werewolf alone wouldn’t hold you. But both?”
Romona?” Jane said, looking perkier at the name. “I executed her.”
Romona Mayhew had been an insane witch-vamp who had drained and killed an entire small village. Liz and Cia had captured her and turned her over to Lincoln and Jane. That meant they had been indirectly responsible for her execution. A shiver of something arcane passed through Liz. Like karma. Or vengeance from the grave.
“Seems that her family decided not to punish the Everharts for the death,” Lincoln said.
“I guess as soon as we get the stink off us, we have to go after a Mayhew,” Liz said, her tone exhausted.
“No need,” Lincoln said smoothly. “Bedelia and I took care of her before I arrived here. She’s in a null room.”
The girls exchanged glances again. Their mama and Lincoln had a history. No one had told them what kind of history, but, from a few hints, they assumed it had been of the romantic variety. Which was just icky gross, especially as Evangelina had mentally, if not physically, seduced Lincoln.
The helicopter thundered directly overhead. They were bloody, muddy, abraded, chafed, and bedraggled. They stank to high heaven. But they had won against the filth of the demon.
Liz
Just before dawn,the twins fell into chairs on the wide porch of the inn to watch the sun rise. They had bathed and showered and washed their hair with the lavender soap that was an Everhart witch family secret, and they were finally clean, smelling a lot better. Liz’s wounds had been healed with vampire blood, which was horrible, but Lincoln had insisted, and while she could fight off a demon, saying no to the implacable courtesy of the Master of the City of Asheville had been impossible. Holding hands, Liz and Cia opened aseeingworking to study their own flesh. “Still have the blood-curse,” Cia said.
“Mmmm. Looks a little less dark, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. I think so. Maybe…”
Liz said, “It was a dirty job rebinding the demon, but somebody had to do it. And since I started this, guess it’s a good thing it was me.”
“What am I? Chopped liver?” Cia said.
“No.” Liz smiled. “You’re my other half. Couldn’t have done it without you.” She looked at Eli. Or you. Or Jane or Lincoln. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, ladies,” Lincoln said. “If you’ll excuse me, dawn is nigh. I’ve faced death enough times this night. If you don’t mind, My Queen,” he said, making it sound like the title it was. “I’d be honored to make use of one of your cottages to dream away the daytime, and, therefore, not die with the sun. I do wish to die my true-death in a blaze of glory, but perhaps not this dawn.”
Jane waved a hand at him. “Eli? Which one is empty?”
“Cottage number four.”
“I’ll bid you all a good day,” Lincoln said and bowed slightly, like the old Southern gentleman he was. He disappeared. Brute flopped onto the porch and put his big head on his paws. Liz frowned, certain he hadn’t been there before.
“I’m ready for bed,” Jane said. “Night.” She left too. And that left Cia, Eli, and Liz.
