“There's no ward. She could have cast one but didn't.”
“Any idea what's waiting for us in there?” Torin asked Odin.
“Honestly, the mere fact that I'm standing here means that I don't know Vivian at all,” Odin said sadly. “I have no idea what to expect, beyond the obvious water-based magic.”
“Right. Expect anything. No problem,” Cerberus said with a grin. “What's our theme song, El?”
“I think I'd better wait to see what we're up against before I pick a soundtrack.”
“Fair enough.” Cerberus headed up the steps, shaking his shaggy, dark bangs out of his eyes. “Let's get this party started.”
The rest of us followed him a bit more warily. Cer yanked the door open so violently that it came off its hinges. He tossed it aside and strode in like a conqueror. I grimaced at the destruction, then at the rest of our group. In my opinion, it was a wasted effort. Cer should have been saving his strength for whatever Vivian had in store for us. I had no doubt it would be deadly and devious. If there was one thing about Vivian I was still certain of, it was her magical proficiency and brilliant mind. On a battlefield of my choosing, with my men and friends beside me, I was confident I could defeat Vivian. But in her home, on her terms, with who knows what laying in wait for us? I wasn't so sure.
“Cerberus, don't run off,” I called after him like a mother with a rambunctious child.
We stepped across a hardwood floor, beneath a coffered ceiling, and past furniture from another era. The whole place felt like a museum. I half expected to see displays featuring mannequins dressed in period clothing. The wall before us had a staircase at each end, the left side diagonally cut by a banister that led up while the other stopped just before a stairwell heading down.
“Do we split up?” Cerberus asked.
“No!” Odin and I said together.
I looked at Odin. “Down?”
“Down,” he agreed. “She keeps warded cells below just in case of an emergency.”
“It makes me a little sad that I don't find that unusual,” I muttered.
We went to the right and took the stairs down. A switch on the wall actually worked when we flipped it and some sixty-watt bulbs shed warm illumination on a flight of wooden steps. It wasn't a long stretch, maybe fifteen steps. Short enough to give a glimpse of the stone floor at the bottom. Odin went first this time, reaching out with his witchy senses to seek any spell-traps Vivian might have left for us. The rest of us followed a few steps behind him, the stairs creaking ominously as if they knew they were part of a witch's home. At the bottom, Odin flipped another switch and waved us down.
We stepped into a simple room with stone walls to match the floor. Damp and cold seeped from the stone and gave the air a musty scent. The only furniture was a tall cabinet and a small, square table with two chairs. A door waited at the far end. Odin hovered a hand over the knob, making sure it was safe to turn. He opened the door, flipped a light switch, and stepped into a corridor. I started after him but Torin pulled me back.
“Let him clear it first, little bird.”
I grimaced but waited.
It didn't take long for Odin to return with an expression that said it all.
“He isn't there?” I asked as I swept past him.
There were three cells off the corridor—all of them lined in metal and utterly empty. I snarled and turned around, heading for the stairs at an angry clip. The men didn't say anything, just followed me back to the room we'd started in.
“Up it is,” I growled and went for the other set of stairs.
Odin rushed by me and took the lead. Reason won out over fury and I let it go. Those stairs weren't as creaky as the ones below. They were solid and had a maroon carpet running down their middle, fastened with strips of brass. Our footsteps were muffled nearly to the point of silence but it didn't matter; Vivian had to know we were there. At the landing, Odin turned right and made his way carefully down a narrow hallway. He checked every door for traps but moved past, leaving them for us to open.
We searched the rooms. The furniture and paintings were covered in sheets. Dirt and debris clouded the windows and gathered on the sills outside. Nothing had been disturbed in years. At least it was warmer up there and instead of smelling musty, it had an old paper scent that brought to mind images of skeletons crumbling to dust. As creepy as that sounds, it was far preferable to the damp, which could indicate recent water magic use. Yeah, in a Water Witch's house, dry is always safer.
After the first corridor of rooms, we cleared another, then went up to the third floor. The house seemed abandoned and I was getting frustrated and restless, wondering if I'd made a mistake. Then, almost as if my annoyance had summoned it, a column of water appeared behind our group, spiraling up from the floor. It continued to swirl up and away, leaving Vivian Lake, the Witch Leader of Water in its wake.
I gaped at Vivian. Even then, after all of the evidence piled against her, I had hoped that we were wrong. But there she was—shimmering blonde hair, pale skin with a bluish tint, and watery eyes of icy blue—standing in a house that, if not exactly a home to her, was still undeniably her property. It was the irrefutable proof we'd been searching for. That she handed it to us was worrisome.
Vivian didn't speak or smile or taunt us in any way. She simply grabbed the man closest to her, stabbed him in the neck with a syringe, and encased them both in water.
“Slate!” I shouted and leapt for them, bashing into Torin, who caught me. I snarled as my hands balled into fists. “You fucking traitorous bitch! I'm going to rip you into tiny witch pieces before I incinerate you!”
“Let's keep going,” Odin said grimly as he turned away from my outburst. “And be on guard. If Vivian appears again, attack her before she can grab anyone else.”
Slate's fine but out cold. She must have drugged him,RS said into my mind.I can't see where she took him.
