Chapter 27
Teresa Manion, High Priestess of Sappho and leader of the California coven, felt ill. She forced herself to take another look at the open laptop computer that rested on her thighs, taking in the damning words and the grisly picture that accompanied them.
The transfer of power, used at the apex of the donor's magical achievement, is a highly advanced and highly dangerous ritual. The requirement of the lifeblood of a personage of less-than-human attributes has made this ritual non grata in most modern magical circles, as the definition of 'less-than-human' includes beings such as the Sidhe, Seelies, and werewolves, all of which can take the guise of a human and are classified as sentient. Therefore, the sacrifice of one of these alternative species is often viewed as heinous and, in fact, an act of murder.
However, some covens find this ritual to be useful in the 'stilling', or removal of power, of rogue members. It can also be used for more nefarious means, forcing an unwilling donor to give up his or her power.
The Transfer can be performed by a lone Witch, or by a coven, and requires only two things: the sacrifice, and the donor. It is, in itself, a simple ritual; however, the strength and control necessary to complete the transfer is what makes this task so complex. The sacrifice must be bled before the point of transfer, but the blood must be ready at the exact moment of completion. To accommodate for this, many practitioners have taken to stringing sacrifices above the donor, slitting the throat several minutes before the completion of the ritual to insure bleeding out in time.
Beside this description was an illustration of a young man lying on his back, face twisted in pain or ecstasy, and a naked woman kneeling at his side. The woman held an open book, and was passing an athame (a sacred knife) over the reclining man. Above the scene, hanging by his ankles, was an older man, his throat slashed. The artist had been generous with the blood, and Teresa found that she couldn't look at the scene for long before becoming nauseous… not only because of the gruesome depiction, but also because her imagination kept wondering how similar to this scene Mary's sacrifice would be, if they were too late.
"Mother?" Teresa looked up, closing the laptop as she smiled weakly at the young woman who was leaning through the car window.
"Yes, Alyssa?"
"The locator spell worked. We've got a mark."
"Let's go, then," she replied steadily, serenely, willing her panic to go down before one of the younger women caught onto the fact that she, their High Priestess, was just as scared as they were.
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"So how exactly were you planning on making me give up my power, anyway? I mean, it's not like you could best me magically," Reid said in a thoughtful way, rubbing his chin. He was leaning against the doorframe of the room where the redhead had kept Kat, watching the witch. She was kneeling in the center of the room, a chalk circle separating her from the rest of the floor. She ignored him.
"Gonna torture me or something? Good luck," he continued, interrupted by the static sound of shouts from outside. Mary didn't answer, but continued drawing symbols around the four
'corners' of the circle with the stick of white chalk she'd taken from a cloth bag she'd pulled out of one of the corners of the empty house, a bag that was now slung over her shoulder like a purse.
Curious despite himself, and addled by her lack of reaction, Reid leaned forward a little and peered at the designs. There was a pentacle at the center of the circle, pointing to what he thought was north. In the pentagram at the middle of the circled star was another circle, with two symmetrical half-moons tangent to either side. Around the circle, in each of the four directions, were a square, a circle with a triangle inside it, a circle with a dot in the center, and an inverted triangle.
"What is that, anyway?" Still no answer. Mary appeared to be concentrating on making her chalk markings as exact as she possibly could, and had not even looked up since she began.
Sighing, he turned his back and strode down the hall towards the broken window. She made no move to stop him, and that disturbed him even more than her lack of response to his jabs. Damn it, he hated it when other people seemed to know something he didn't!
"Hey," Reid called, grabbing the boards that covered most of the window and yanking. They came away easily, and when he swung them at the remainder of the glass, it shattered outward with a crash.
"Reid?" The three girls stopped shouting insults and venom, and the boys stumbled back a bit as they culled off their power.
"Yo," Reid answered, all nonchalance and calm. He had the overpowering urge to jump out of the window, run to them, get the hell out of here… but he knew that wasn't happening. It just seemed so easy. So close. His normal senses screamed at him to go for it, but his supernatural awareness was snapping rejoinders that reminded him of the powerful magical barrier that wouldn't let him get so much as a toe out of this hellhole.
"You ok?" It was Kat, sounding just as blasé as Reid himself. He squinted at her in the moonlight, mouth quirking up in a half-grin: she stood, braced with both feet spread for maximum throwing ability, a piece of metal mailbox in one hand.
"I'm fine," he called back.
"Where's the witch," Caleb asked.
"Doing something witchy. She's drawing something with chalk. A circle." Caleb frowned.
"What, of protection?" Reid laughed.
"Somehow, I doubt it. Nah, it's probably for her wacky ritual."
"Kat's out. How can she still-"
"Oh, she's been going on about having other tricks up her sleeves," Reid interrupted, the thin thread of uncertainty beneath his calm showing through.
"Don't worry," Tyler shouted. "We're gonna get you out of there."
"Yeah, you better."
"Reid?" Kat, again.
"Yeah?"
"They're trying," she said, almost flatly, "but hey, it may not work."
"Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better."
"So I wanted to tell you something, you know, in case everything goes pear-shaped," she continued.
"Wha-" As he spoke, Reid was suddenly aware of something cold and metallic on the back of his neck, something that very quickly became painfully, scorchingly hot. There was a flash of sonic brightness, and then everything went dark.
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Kat took a deep breath. She may have said it to Reid's mother in an angry retort, but saying it to Reid was an entirely different matter. Come on, girl, say it. I love you. Just three little words.
"So I wanted to tell you something," she said instead, "you know, in case everything goes pear-shaped." Dumb shit! Say it! She opened her mouth, pissed enough at herself to just shout it, and then Reid gave a funny little spasm in the window and dropped like a rock. As he disappeared from view, leaving Mary standing framed in the window with what looked like a taser gun in her hand, Kat could only stand and gape. The witch raised a hand in an almost solemn gesture, and waved goodbye. Then she was backing away, dragging something along behind her. Dragging Reid.
"Reid!" No answer. Of course, no answer. "Reid!" She couldn't stop herself from screaming, from calling his name like she was drowning and he was her only lifeline. Kat found herself on her knees, the twisted piece of metal dropping from her hand. "Reid!" A taser gun. Mary had a taser gun. Why hadn't she used it before? She hadn't had it, of course. She'd gotten it somehow, in the time after Kat had escaped. A taser gun, though… that meant Reid was out for at least an hour, depending on the setting. Maybe a couple of hours. He'd be helpless, paralyzed, while Mary could do whatever she damn well pleased. He didn't stand a chance. Kat was screaming, no words anymore, just screaming. All the pent-up terror and rage and hatred and despair flooded out of her, the sight of Reid dropping like a ragdoll thrown down by a bored child playing continuously against her closed lids.
Suddenly, arms were around her. Kat shrieked angrily and swiped at them, beating blindly at whoever dared touch her, and then she was clinging to them, her face ravaged with tears and helplessness. "He's dead," she moaned, a flash of the one other time she'd seen a taser in real life coming back to her: her uncle, a cop, had used one on a would-be convenience store thief when she was a kid. The thief, she later learned, was knocked out for three solid hours and had to stay in the hospital for several more before he regained the full use of his limbs and stopped stuttering when he tried to talk. There was no way Reid could fight back now, and they only had about an hour left. "He's dead." Part of her was cursing in disgust, spitting that she should be strong, should not break, but the bigger part had had enough of noncha-fucking-lance.
"Shh, shh," whoever held her murmured. Kat vaguely recognized the voice as belonging to Sarah, who rocked her slightly. "Hush."
"Excuse me," a new voice said. Kat, still breathing in short, shuddering bursts and shaking visibly in Sarah's arms, looked up slowly. Five women were standing in front of a sleek black car. She hadn't even heard the car pull up. The lead woman raised her head, showing a lined, pleasant face and dark, dangerous eyes. "I don't suppose you know a Reid Garwin, do you?" Kat straightened, letting Sarah's grip on her arm tighten. Caleb stepped forward, eyes flashing. He raised a hand threateningly.
"Why do you want to know? Who are you?" The woman bowed slightly, holding out both hands in a gesture of goodwill.
"I am Teresa Manion, High Priestess of Sappho." The Priestess ignored the way all six teenagers flinched, glancing at the silent house behind them. "You would be the Sons of Ipswich, then?"
"What are you doing here? You're that bitch's coven, aren't you? Get out before we-"
"We are here," Teresa interrupted Kat calmly, "to send Mary Harcortte back to the asylum where she belongs. We are here to, if need be, still or dispatch her before she harms someone else. In short," the mysterious woman finished, holding her hands together as if in prayer, "we are your only chance."