Chapter 13: Second Thoughts

A half-hour earlier. The House in the Woods, New Haven.

Maia closed her book, unable to concentrate. The sunlight filtering in through the stained-glass windows splashed a rich palette of colors on the wall paneling but did little to lighten the dread crushing her soul.

If she had a soul . . .

For the first time in ages beyond number, she was beginning to doubt everything.

She'd dreamed last night. And when was the last time she'd been the one dreaming? She was back in Connacht. She was once more a young girl playing with her brothers in the courtyard of the castle. She'd thought her existence before Electra carried her away had vanished. Instead, it had remained hidden in a secret place inside her. Why was it reemerging now?

Was it because she was abstaining from blood? After the Litha festival in June, she'd stopped sampling. She suspected blood was addictive and she wanted to wean herself off before Sam visited. She'd been right. The first days had been torture. But now she'd been clean for over a month. It probably wasn't a coincidence that the memories resurfaced at the same time.

Unless it was Sam. Had he awakened something within her? Now she was hearing a soft woman's voice, urging her to leave blood alone. Who was that? Her conscience? The first time she'd heard it, the voice advised her to treat Crowley carefully. He could be an ally. Surely her conscience wouldn't have spoken up for a demon.

Electra appeared to suspect nothing. For now, she tolerated Maia's abstinence, although realistically that couldn't last. She'd already become more insistent about Maia staying at her house, no doubt to keep an eye on her.

In the aftermath of the attack on Lutar, Electra would be even more likely to lash out. So far, Maia had been able to keep Sam out of harm's way, but she had no way of protecting Dean. Would Electra blame both brothers and exact vengeance?

She felt her cheeks grow hot at the thought of how ill Sam had been. She'd only meant to make him sick enough to remain in bed—far away from Lutar. Once she realized she'd overdone it, she eased off. After that first bad night, she kept him in a state of peaceful drowsiness with just enough fever that he couldn't go anywhere. She would have kept Dean safe too if she could have established a link. Sam wouldn't want anything to happen to his brother.

And now? Was there any hope for her and Sam? Electra would eventually find out she wasn't feeding off him or anyone else. She couldn't run away. Electra had drunk her blood. She'd always be able to find her. Worse, if she tried to flee, Electra would likely punish her by killing Sam.

Only by pretending to feed off Sam could she keep him safe, and even then there were no guarantees.

She knew about Lutar, but Electra had never revealed to her where the other pure-bloods were. Sam and Dean were hunters. They were bound to run into them eventually.

She fought the onslaught of panic and forced herself to concentrate on the immediate crisis. When Electra summoned her in the middle of the afternoon, she knew it couldn't be good news. Electra didn't leave the bookstore on a whim. Not that her assistant wasn't perfectly capable of managing in her absence, but Electra was conscientious when it came to her business.

But when Lutar was in danger . . .

Crowley's shape shimmered and solidified in front of her. "How bad is it?" he asked.

"That's what I was going to ask you." She secreted the book of poetry under the cushion. Electra could become suspicious if she knew Maia was reading Ní Dhomhnaill, or any other Irish poet for that matter.

Crowley grimaced. "Lutar was insolent from day one. Living as a lord in his castle in that small dump of a town only fed his pride. The prat was willful, ignoring his elders. He treated me like dirt. Usually someone has to know me for at least a couple of months before that happens. I told Electra she was being too indulgent."

Maia remembered that discussion. Crowley had come close to overstepping his bounds. Electra could be generous, gracious, and yes, even kind, as long as you didn't cross her.

"You'll come with me when I talk with her?" he asked, plainly worried. Electra had made him responsible for Lutar's well-being. In her fury, she could destroy him and Maia too, but that wasn't what filled her with dread.

She'd saved Sam, but had Dean been involved in the attack? Sam would be devastated if Electra took out her revenge on him. And then there was Chloe. Maia liked Chloe. She couldn't let Electra hurt anyone Chloe was so attached to.

Since Electra had never drunk Dean's blood, she wouldn't be able to access his mind. But Electra had plenty of other means at her disposal to maim or kill.

Maia fingered the pot of orchids on the table next to her. Bee orchids. Like her, they were trapped inside Astrena's container. She couldn't escape but she might be able to help others. If she were to have any chance of success, she'd need an ally. Could she convince Crowley that it would be in his best interest to help her? Protecting Sam and his friends would come at a cost, but it was worth it.

Crowley was eyeing her uneasily. She didn't blame him. Electra would be appalled at the thoughts of friendship and pacts of loyalty that were swirling in her head. But it was the way of her family. Not Electra's but hers—the clan . . . Was that it? Sam and Dean reminded her of her brothers? Her mother had said the druid flame could never be extinguished. Hers was blazing more brightly by the moment.

She approached Crowley. "You need me and I . . . I could use a friend."

He studied her, his fear turning to calculation. "Little mouse wants to play nice? Interesting. What do you propose?"

"I'll defend you from Electra. In return you shield Sam—"

"—deal."

"I'm not done. And Dean and Chloe."

He stared at her. "Why?"

"Will you do it?"

He narrowed his eyes skeptically. "Form a cabal within Electra's empire?"

"Not at all," she insisted. "We're protecting her . . . from herself." Would he buy the argument? She could convince herself it was true. Electra hadn't always been so cruel.

"How about Cheekbones and Dick Tracy? Have you decided to be their guardian angel as well?"

She hadn't factored Neal in, but shouldn't she? Caffrey was a modern rendering of Gafraidth. Her maternal aunt had married a member of that clan from neighboring Fermanagh. How could she ignore ties of blood?

Neal had sworn fealty to his boss. Peter and his wife Elizabeth were a second family to him and they were friends with Sam and Dean. If any of the group was harmed, would Sam swear a blood oath of vengeance?

But what could she do to protect them? Electra had already claimed Neal for herself. She could destroy Sam as well. She was only laying off him because she thought Maia was feeding on him.

She turned to Crowley. "Could you protect them?"

"You really have no idea of what I'm capable of, do you?"

She shook her head. Electra had always been the one to deal with demons, not her.

He shrugged. "I understand very little about who you and Electra are and the nature of your abilities. If I help you, you'll have to be much more forthcoming." He pursed his lips as if assessing her value. The longer he hesitated, the more convinced she became that she needed him.

He extended his hand to her. "It's a gamble but the dividends could be high. I accept."

She shook his hand. She doubted Crowley could be trusted, but instinctively she knew her brothers would approve. "We're acting in Electra's best interest," she repeated more for her sake than his.

"If she finds out, we'll be the ones in need of protection." He jerked his head toward the staircase. "Is he with her?"

She nodded. "In her bedroom. I'll go with you."

#

Crowley surveyed the immense chamber that was Electra's suite. Not his taste, but it had a certain elegance. The color scheme was in smoky mauves and grays with splashes of gold gilt. An early nineteenth-century square grand piano was in the alcove with a lyre-guitar propped on the wall next to it. Electra liked to play the guitar late at night. Not that she'd ever sung to him. But with time, anything was possible. The ancient Greek gods had sported with mortals countless times, and he was much more than a common mortal.

Lutar was lying motionless on her bed. He was a pillar of fire against the platinum-gray silk sheets. Electra had draped herself in a robe of orchid-colored silk, the same color as the orchids in a pot next to the bed. She was standing next to him, chanting in a soft tone when they entered the room.

She looked up at the interruption. Her eyes were black from the spell she'd been casting. Gradually they regained their natural appearance. Impossible to know what the true color was. Based on her mood they could be brown, green, or violet.

"How is he?" he asked.

"He hasn't awakened. Tell me what you know." Her voice was low and silky, not threatening. Good, she might listen to reason. Maia stood silently beside him, her head bowed. Little mouse was playing it safe.

"I arrived to verify the work of our hacker fangs and discovered Lutar had visitors—Peter Burke and Dean Winchester. It didn't take long to discover why they were there. Lutar had charmed Angela Caffrey to come to the castle." He was careful not to use any slang with Electra. She had a low tolerance. But was it any wonder that the squirrel and Dick Tracy were there?

"Lutar disobeyed me. I'd warned him of the repercussions."

"What will you do?" Maia asked.

"After I wipe his memory, I'll remold him into a guitarist. Lutar will be no longer. He will start afresh. Our sister in Rio de Janeiro has asked for a pure-blood. She can watch over him." Electra turned to him. "You were right. Lutar was far too conspicuous. I won't make that mistake again. You'll set him up in Rio?"

"Of course. The city will provide a rich market for his talents."

"Damage assessment from Shepherdstown?"

"The three hackers are safe. Drasko is proving a worthy lieutenant."

"You were wise in his selection. I met with him when I visited the castle. He has potential. Cultivate him for me."

"Of course, Your Radiance." Drasko was a handsome fang. Would he be a rival? He doubted it. Drasko would likely be more interested in him than any woman. "When I discovered Peter and Dean were there, I realized Sam and Neal must be on their way, perhaps with additional agents and hunters. It was essential to spirit away our hackers. There were four thralls to guard Lutar. That should have been adequate. After dispatching the hackers, I returned to the castle, but I was too late. Lutar was already gone. One thrall escaped. The others had been given dead man's blood."

"You don't know who plunged the knife into Lutar?" she demanded, a blue tinge spreading over her face. The ice queen was resurfacing. A warning to them all.

"No, My Queen."

She was silent a moment. "I'll find out soon enough. How about the thralls? Did you dispose of them?"

He nodded. "I found the one who'd fled hiding in the woods. He was eliminated along with the others."

"Good. This was a wake-up call. I and my sisters have maintained our anonymity for millennia. It's what allows us to operate freely."

"We live in dangerous times," he said. "Hunters, law enforcement—the tools at their disposal are much more effective." He flicked a glance to Maia. Never let it be said that Crowley didn't know how to bend circumstances to his will.

"Vampires have become too noticeable," Maia said, picking up on his cue. "They put us at risk."

Electra nodded. "We should exercise tight control on their numbers. In the old days, it didn't matter if a few vampires were discovered. The investigators were few. They had limited weapons at their disposal."

"But that's no longer the case," he pointed out. "We face a more challenging reality and must adapt to it."

"Your warnings were justified," she conceded. "You outlined the new course. We should adopt this . . ."

"Crowley Doctrine has a nice ring to it," he suggested helpfully.

She arched a supercilious eyebrow but nodded acceptance. "I'll inform my sisters to implement it as well. Vampires are on the hunters' radar now. Most are ill-suited to our present demands and can be safely eliminated."

"A wise move," he said, happy to support her. "We should select carefully those to be elevated to vampire status, choosing only those with the proper skills."

"It's time to cull the herd," she agreed. "You know my requirements. Those who don't meet them . . ."

He bowed. Finally. Electra was seeing sense. Little mouse was remaining quiet throughout their discussion. He'd been surprised her precious moose hadn't been at the castle. Had she been the cause? A dangerous game to play when your sister is Astrena. No wonder she wanted his help.

The mauve brocade curtain behind Electra rustled, and a small shape scampered down the curtain. Darting across the room, it hid behind the curtain in the alcove. That had to be Scarbo. He'd never gotten a proper look at him, but Maia had told him about Electra's personal imp. She used him to torture victims who rebelled against her. Nasty piece of work. Crowley didn't like anyone who wouldn't stand still. That demon was too slippery by half.

Lutar let out a moan. Slowly the fire beneath his skin dissipated. Electra sat down next to him and caressed his face. Pressing her hand onto his forehead, she closed her eyes and murmured a chant, probably ancient Greek.

"What's she doing now?" he muttered to Maia.

"Capturing his memories before she erases them," she whispered. "She can see what he saw, read his thoughts—"

Electra's eyes snapped open. "Neal!" she shrieked, in a howl that made even his skin crawl. "You did this!" Her skin blurred into an ice-blue mist surrounding her body. She jumped up, assuming the form he associated with Astrena. Ten feet of ice-blue crystals and gas. A goddess, overwhelmingly beautiful and deadly. She stretched out her arms.

Maia grew pale. "She'll consume him."

Bloody hell. Just when he thought he'd convinced her. "Oh, Radiant One. A word if you don't mind."

She stared down at him, solidifying slightly. "Speak," she said in a voice low as thunder.

"Didn't we just agree on the Crowley Doctrine? How is killing Neal going to accomplish that? You don't even know for sure he was the one who used the knife. Neal's a thief and an artist. As a slice-and-dice man, he's worthless. His boss Burke is probably with him right now. You kill him with your blue mumbo-jumbo, aren't you advertising your presence?"

She gradually shrank to her normal form. "Peter and Dean were also present at the castle," she conceded.

"Do you intend to kill them too?" Crowley adopted his most reasonable tone. "Let's discuss this for a moment, shall we, before bringing the full force of hunters and the FBI upon us."

Notes: The small demon that Crowley saw in Electra's bedroom was described by the nineteenth-century poet, Aloysius Bertrand in Gaspard de la Nuit, a collection of prose poems. Scarbo is also the name of a fiendishly difficult piano piece by Maurice Ravel. Scarbo loves to visit artists by night and torment them—clearly he must be in alliance with Astrena.