Chapter Nineteen:
Selena looked around with a slight frown. This room
was not familiar to her although a bit of the writing on the walls and pillars
were. It was the language, the writing of dragons. Her face saddened as she
floated through it, her fingers reaching out and running over the engravings.
This was her history before her, under her fingertips. It was her past. And it was almost painful, to stand there
and think about something that had once been and was now erased. She looked away slowly, lifting her eyes to
the pillars before her. Names of Princes, of kings who had come before, only to
be remembered through ancient letters and artifacts.
She forced herself to face away and move toward the
door. It was time to see the witches and face their wrath. She slowed as she
came to the door and then stopped altogether as she became aware of chanting on
the other side.
The Old Language of Witches. She recognized it,
having lived with Hellewise for so long. And she was not liking the chants at
all.
She looked up quickly, a sharp snap of her head, as
something exploded loudly from outside, causing a small rocking throughout the
First House. She hesitated, craning to hear passed the tumble of rocks and
pebbles and the chanting continued along with several cries and shouts.
What the hell was going on out there?
She glanced over her shoulder to scan the hall. If
she was going to go out there she was going to need a weapon because things
were not going to go easy. But there was nothing in the room that was better
than her Sigs. And there were witches out there. Anything would work on their
human bodies.
She had come in through the wall in between two
hanging tapestries dating back to the Persian Age. Nice, she mused momentarily
before turning away back to the door. But then something caught her eye, just
as she began to prepare herself to storm the room. She looked back toward the
tapestries and her eyes caught on a small shadow behind one of the tapestries
lining the walls. She blinked and the shadow became a line, etched into the
stone of the walls. Squinting, she came away from the door and tiptoed over to
the tapestry, ignoring the bright light coming in though the hole she had made
and lighting the soft cloth of the tapestry.
She paused to gaze at it momentarily, eyes drifting
up and over the material.
It was of a man, an average looking man. He faced the
side, showing his profile. And behind him was his shadow, their backs together.
However the shadow formed the figure of a dragon, with long black wings and a
mouth open in a furious snarl.
Had the Persians known the truth?
Shaking her head she pushed away the tapestry and
looked at the rectangle etched into the wall. Only it wasn't a rectangle.
It was a door. A damn door.
She grabbed the tapestry with both hands and yanked
it down roughly. It came off the wall, fluttering into her arms in a heavy
pile. She set it aside absentmindedly and stared at the stone doorway before
her.
Just a doorway. But leading where…
She examined it cautiously. She had never been in
this room, couldn't be expected to know what lay behind the door. She raised
her arms, placing her hands to the cold stone. Maybe if she pushed it, like in
the movies. She set her hands against it and pushed a bit but it didn't budge.
She braced herself, dipping into a stance and pushed again, applying a bit more
force but it held in place. She arched an eyebrow, releasing an impatient sigh.
Maybe if she pushed along one side. She leaned her shoulder against the right
side and pushed a bit but nothing gave. Solid stone resisted. Then she leaned
against the other side of the stone door and shoved.
It gave. And with a yelp Chime went sailing into
nothingness, falling forward on something sharp and jagged. She caught a quick
glance of the doorway behind her as she fell, saw the light seeping in as the
stone door swung around in a three-sixty and then a quick look as the light was
cut off, as the door shut with a grinding shriek.
Then she was rolling, falling down a flight of cold
steps.
"Cassandra…you?" Thierry asked faintly, staggering to
his feet. He wasn't sure whether it was the explosion or seeing the witch again
but he was feeling just a bit dizzy. He watched the dark-haired witch circle
around the row of black witches, her lips drawing up into a cold smile.
"Theorn." She said slowly, his name almost sung.
"Long time no see."
He gazed at her with narrowed eyes. "Yeah."
Winnie sat up, reaching a hand out to Thea, shaking
her. Thea coughed and nodded at her. Beside her, Blaise was sitting up as well.
"I must thank you. All of you." Cassandra said in a
quiet voice, her tone absentminded. "I wanted to be here when Selena arrived,
wanted to catch her once and for all. And all of you helped me." She beamed at
them, at their group in its entirety.
Thierry took a step forward, lifting his hands as if
to rest them against the wall of pulsing purple witch power. "Why?" he asked
her softly, shaking his head slowly.
Cassandra looked at him, tilting her head. "Don't you
ask me questions, Theorn. It's your fault I lost her to begin with."
Thierry pulled his head back in a small show of
surprise.
"You and your advice." Cassandra said in a low voice
and there was a malicious waver in it, a pure show of emotion. "You told her to
disappear and she did. Right out from under me. I returned to find her gone!"
she gestured, her long, slender arm swinging away in impatience.
Thea looked at Winnie. "Chime?" she mouthed in
confusion.
Winnie nodded imperceptibly.
Cassandra was going on and now there was anger
registering on her face, the pale skin of her cheeks darkening into a flushed
crimson. "Do you know how long I have spent looking for her? Seventeen years.
Seventeen long years…"
Thierry nodded once, slowly, to show he understood.
Cassandra shook her head, lifting her hands to her
hips. "And now I finally find her again and she's as gullible as ever, damn
her." She threw her hands up in the air, twirling away elegantly even in her
anger. "She's a damn idiot! Doesn't feel anger, doesn't feel hate for the
witches. At all! Even after everything that has happened to her because of
them. There is nothing in that thick head of hers!"
"She did nothing to you." Thea said aloud and then
almost raised a hand to her mouth as if surprised the sentence had somehow made
it passed her lips.
Cassandra looked toward her over her shoulder, a
small narrowing of her slanted eyes. "Ah. The friend." She said in a soft sigh,
turning back a bit. "I should thank you above all. Maybe, just maybe, there's a
chance that she'll join me now. There's only so much betrayal even an imbecile
can take." She said and a soft laugh escaped her, shoulders rising with the
gesture.
Thea paled. Winnie reached a hand out to her but she
shook it away, looking down at her lap dumbly.
She was right, of course. Chime had been an innocent
all along and now…now they were here because of her, because of her wrong. If
she had believed her the entire time, never doubted her even for a second,
maybe…maybe. Maybe they wouldn't be in this predicament.
Winnie stared at her sadly for a moment. Then her
face darkened and she raised her head to Cassandra. "You are an evil witch."
She spat coldly, blue eyes burning. "You want to take it out on someone, you
take it out on me. You leave her out of this." She glared for a moment longer
as Cassandra's eyes flew to meet hers and she chuckled, shaking her head. "But
it's not like Chime would join you if she were here, anyway." She said in an
offhand tone.
Cassandra smiled at her, the gesture making her
recoil the slightest bit. There was no humor in the smile, nothing but an icy
glee, one that was masked by the serenity of the witch's face. "Perhaps not."
She said with a shrug to Winnie. "But you, Judas, weakened her enough for me to
kill her should the need arise." She looked off to the sides, eyes narrowing as
she continued. "She's here, already. Wandering around. And when she comes out I
will lay the question before her."
Thierry tilted his head sharply. "What question?"
Cassandra's smile turned all the more gleeful. "The
Night World needs a leader." She said crossing her slender arms across her
breasts. She was a pale, beautiful creature, an elegant shadow in her flowing
black gown. "I do believe Hunter is dead. I haven't heard from him since the
Wild Power fried him. Maya is dead, too. She would have been the second choice.
You, Thierry, were third choice but I know you are loyal to the Dawn. Which
leaves no one to rule." And her smile widened. "Except me."
Thea's jaw dropped open. "And you want Chime by your
side…why? She's not even full blood. You can have so many others-"
"I will have so many others." Cassandra corrected
her. "But if I can't have Selena by my side I won't allow you to have her by
yours. She doesn't need to prove herself to anyone anymore. Even weakened she
escaped my assassins and has arrived here. I must admit, she's strong. But not
exactly bright." Cassandra's eyes focused on the doors again and she frowned
slightly. She was growing impatient, it seemed. "If she denies me she dies today."
Thierry glanced toward Thea who looked back at him,
one arm lifted in a gesture of disbelief. He shook his head and said, "So
that's it, then." he stated simply. "We wait."
Cassandra nodded. "We wait."
Thea sighed, settling onto her rear slowly.
Thierry's voice came again, quiet in tone now. "Are
you the witch who isn't a witch?"
The question raised everyone's head, focusing the
attention on Cassandra.
The witch practically curtsied. She let her arms flutter
down her side gracefully, smiling and if they hadn't know her true twisted
nature one would have said she had a truly childishly innocent smile. "I am."
She answered and she feigned woe. "Alas, my poor Azhdeha. Such great potential.
Such time and energy. Power! Wasted on the Wild Power."
Thea stared at her, lips parted.
"But come." Cassandra said and once more she was
breathtakingly beautiful, elegant. "We must wait for her. The time draws near."
Chime blinked, staring into brightness. She had finally
managed to stop rolling down the stone staircase, having landed on a cold hard
floor. She lay, stretched out on her side, before the entrance to a candle lit
room. Shadows flickered wildly inside, painting large looming shapes across
stone walls.
With a groan she rose to her feet and grimaced. She
was so sore. She was stupid for deciding to get it all over with. She probably
didn't even have a fighting chance. She staggered forward a step, coming into
the room and leaning against the doorway with a weary exhalation.
It was almost like a temple. The candles, propped on
top of four foot high candelabras surrounded three coffin-like stone rectangles
in the center of the room. Like a shrine. And there were more tapestries and
carvings, small statuettes and figurines. Gold and silver ornaments.
Her eyes widened slowly as she understood. Even from
where she stood she understood what she was looking at. Whose tombs she was
looking at. She floated forward another step, clutching her bandaged shoulder
reflexively and reading the dragon symbols etched into the stone.
It was the Prince. The Prince's grave in the center,
surrounded on either side by his brother, Damien, and his sister, Dayra. Only
her whole name was Zhadayra. And according to the writing she had been put to
sleep forty years after the battle of Hecate and the Dragons.
Chime remembered to breathe. On unsteady legs she
came up before the Prince's coffin. And with a trembling pulse she reached out,
her fingers brushing the stone. She had been expecting wards and when there was
no electrical charge she admonished herself. It probably only went off when the
tomb was actually opened.
She should spring the trap, she really should. It
would serve them right for stereotyping her. She should set all the dragons
free, let them take over as they had so long ago.
Then she let her hand fall away from the tomb. No.
Their time was over. And it was not right. The bloodshed was in the past and it
deserved to stay there. There would be no second Battle.
But she wanted to see.
Placing her entire weight behind it she put her
shoulder to the lid of the coffin and pushed. And then she pushed again because
it didn't budge an inch. She knew she was weak but was she so weak she couldn't
lift a damn lid? She paused to examine it, her jaw tightening. But it would be
the same strain if she tried from a different position. So she hunched forward
again, placing her good shoulder to it and she shoved again. There was a spark
of satisfaction when she heard stone scrape.
She shoved once more, one long last push with all her
might, all her strength. All her weight. And it moved to give her a small lit
view of who lay inside.
And when she had the small view all she could do was
stare. And blink numbly. Like a fool. When it hit her she recoiled, stumbling
back, lips parting in shock.
"No-"
Then she was racing around the coffin to the other
side and pushing the lid back into place. She did it frantically, feeling a
coldness in her chest even as sweat worked to break out on her forehead from
her strain. She wanted to cover it, cover everything. Because she had been
crazy to want to see the Prince, to see into his final resting place.
And only after she had covered the coffin did she
realize her lunacy. With a swallow she whirled and dashed toward the entrance,
working her way up in darkness.
"Are you sure she's here?" Blaise asked lazily,
picking at the dust in her wavy black hair. There was an expression of distaste
on her face. "Maybe after so many years you really don't know what you're
talking about-"
Thea looked at her cousin, wide-eyed, willing her to
shut up. If Blaise was feeling jealous of Cassandra's beauty now was not the
proper time to express it.
But Blaise was going on, "And maybe senility has
caught up with you." She looked at the witch. "I mean, how old are you, anyway?
Witch magic keeping away the laugh lines?"
Cassandra cast her a hooded glance and then lifted
her hand, snapping her fingers.
Purple bolts of witch energy streaked out, seizing
the Daybreak witch. Blaise cried out as electrical currents raced through her
body, forcing her to stiffen. And with a fizz they vanished but for a moment
Blaise remained in an upright position. Then she settled into silence, falling
to the floor.
"Blaise-" Thea scampered over to her, lifting her
limp cousin frantically and automatically searching for a pulse. It was there,
strong and steady under her fingertips.
"That wasn't necessary." Thierry sighed from beside
Cybele and he rose, moving toward Thea and crouching next to her to check
Blaise. "She was merely asking a question-"
"A question I had no intention of answering."
Cassandra cut him off simply. She turned away, shaking her head. "I don't know
why I ever did you any favors, Theorn." She sighed. "When we get right down to
it, you were a whiny coward. Couldn't live with yourself after killing your
soulmate. Which is why you came to me." She said and then she stopped
altogether, her back to them.
Thea lifted her head to look at the witch, to see that
Cassandra's head was turned in the direction of one of the doors. She was
stiff, rigid.
And at the door was Chime, head bowed, eyes trained
on Cassandra. Her irises flickered, almost like the lens of a camera. Then she
came forward, a single step. "But that's not the reason why I went to you,
Cassandra." She said quietly.
The witch settled limply. "Hello, Selena."
"Hello, Cassandra."
