Now or Never: Wizards of Nevermore (25 page)

They crept down the hallway and peered around the doorway that led to the great room. It was very large and filled with big dark furniture, and big pretty paintings. But the best thing about it during Christmastime was the large pine tree by the hearth.

She loved how it smelled, and how pretty it looked with the colorful decorations. And she especially adored all the lovely wrapped gifts that spilled from underneath its wide branches.

“The prophecy is true,” said a gray-haired woman Norie had never seen before. “We’ve hidden their gifts for as long as we can. Once your husband discovers they are the star twins, who Nelos predicted would end the world or save it, their fates are sealed.”

“How can that be? End it…Save it. I don’t understand.”

“It would take only one to create a magical cataclysm, Mary. Leo can use them to do very bad things to this world. Your children are powerful, and they will only grow more so. We must hide their magic. Their gifts. Their true identities.”

“What will it take?” asked Mother.

The woman shook her head. “The kind of magic you’re asking for is…complex. It requires special energies.”

“Sacrifice,” said Mother.

The woman looked uncomfortable. “If the world’s fate did not rest on the shoulders of your children, I would never
consider it. To take the life of another is a sin against magic too strong to be forgiven. So that will be my sacrifice.”

“He thinks I’m a mundane,” Mother said softly. “But my father was a Raven.”

“I know.” The woman leaned forward and placed a hand on Mary Deshane’s thin shoulder. “We must complete the spell.”

“When?” asked Mary.

“The longer we wait, the more we risk that your husband will discover the secret you’ve been keeping.”

“Tonight, then.” Mary sighed. “Very well.”

The woman nodded, then hugged Mother tightly. She moved back, her simple white robes glittering like snowfall in the firelight. She withdrew a dagger from her robe and then lifted her arms.

She started chanting. The fire grew brighter, hotter. Mary stood next to the hearth, looking the saddest Norie had ever seen her. Norie’s stomach squeezed. Something bad was happening—something very bad.

“Cullen,” she said, “is this because we can see dead people?”

“Maybe,” he said. He leaned forward, his gaze anxious. “I don’t like this.”

The chanting got louder, faster. Wind came out of nowhere and rattled the furniture, the Christmas tree, the paintings. The floor underneath their feet rumbled. Cullen grabbed Norie and held tight. Their gazes were locked onto the gray-haired woman. She was screaming now, her eyes
rolled back to their whites, and then she whipped forward with the blade and drew it across Mother’s throat.

Blood sprayed everywhere. Black glittery light rose like wisps of smoke from the wound, and the caterwauling witch gathered those wisps and tied them into the white strands of magic that wiggled around the hearth like terrified worms.

“I want Mommy!” Norie struggled against Cullen’s embrace. “Mommy!”

She got free of her brother and ran toward Mommy. She was hurt. She needed help. Tears streamed down her cheeks because she knew, she knew,
she knew
that her mother couldn’t be helped. Cullen dashed past her, heading like a charging bull toward the woman who was in the throes of casting her spell.

Then the magic—black and white, shining like diamonds, like death—braided together and arrowed toward the children like striking cobras.

Norie screamed as the burning magic enveloped her. She heard Cullen’s cries, too, and then there was nothing.

Cullen was five years old, his head throbbing because he’d been shoved into a table with the spell that stole his magic, his memories. He saw his mother lying on the hearth, and he crawled to her, crying. He knew he shouldn’t cry because men weren’t supposed to do that. But Mommy was dead. Mommy was dead, and he couldn’t stop crying.

The pool of blood gleamed wetly in the flickering firelight. His father rushed in, his Italian leather shoes slapping
against the marble floor, his breath harsh and uneven, his face contorted with rage.

Stumbling past the huge Christmas tree with its bounty of gaily wrapped gifts, he crouched next to him. He grabbed Cullen’s face, his fingers digging cruelly into his son’s cheeks. “What the fuck happened?” he screamed.

“I don’t know,” said Cullen, weeping.

His father hit him, hard. He was small, just a boy, so the blow shoved him away from his mother and into the wall. His head struck the marble fireplace.

Later, much later, he found himself in a room, his head throbbing. His father leaned over him. Beside him was another man, this one in a black robe.

“The spell is strong. Complicated. Whoever cast it was powerful.”

“But why? Why cast spells on them?”

“Perhaps this is an enemy’s attack on you. Kill your wife. Ensure your children never reach full powers.”

Leo snorted. “They’re both weak. They have so little magic.” He rubbed a hand through his graying hair. “Mary’s blood, no doubt.”

“We don’t know the full extent of this situation. The children should be separated.”

“He should be dead,” muttered Leo. “This feels like a nex spell. No one can do those.”

“A few can.”

“What happens if they stay together?”

“Who knows? Where’s the girl?”

“She was unconscious on the floor.” He frowned. “They don’t remember each other.”

“The spell, no doubt. Aftershocks, maybe. Who knows? Who cares? It’ll make things easier.”

Norie rode in the black limo. She was five years old. She wore her favorite pink dress and shoes, and Nanny had brushed her hair until it shone.

The man sitting across from her was elegantly dressed—as he always was. His brown eyes glittered with disgust, but Norie didn’t shy away from it. Her father’s anger no longer frightened her.

“Where are we going, Father?”

“To see a friend of mine. Her name is Millicent. She wants to have tea with you.” He flashed a grin that gleamed like a sharp blade. “You like tea, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

The scene faded…faded.

Norie stood outside the orphanage, alone, uncertain about where to go, what to do. Then she appeared. Catalina, she said as she put her pale hand on the girl’s forehead. “Your mother, baby. Remember?”

And suddenly, Norie did remember that Catalina was her mother. So she took her hand, and they walked together down the street.

*  *  *

Norie knew now that Catalina was the magical who’d worked the spell against her mother. And Catalina’s powers had been warped by performing blood magic. That was why she’d gone slowly insane, her body paying the price for blood magic. But Catalina had taken Norie and protected her and kept her away from the Ravens. Until she’d died, without telling Norie anything about her past—or what her future might hold. No, she must have tried. It had to be hard to know she was losing her mind, suffering the consequences of what she’d done…and hanging on long enough for the girl to make it to womanhood.

Catalina had tried.

And Norie would, too.

Then Norie was sprawled in the back of another limousine, a blanket tossed over her naked form. Drugs and magic fuzzed her mind, but she saw him. Black Robe. The kidnapper. The asshole. Now she knew—it was Leopold Deshane.

Her father.

“We have to go,” said Elizabeth.

“Go where?” asked Trent. They had just finished a late breakfast. He’d been thinking of taking her back to bed. He never tired of touching her, of finding the places that made her squirm and moan and sigh. She was playful,
and he liked that. But she could also be serious. She made him feel as though he’d been missing a part of himself…a part he hadn’t even known about until that night, that night she had changed his whole world.

He still grieved for his uncle. He still wondered what the hell was going on with the streak of suicides in town, and that damned Colt that connected those deaths. Maybe his uncle had been murdered. Screw the evidence. But who would do it? And why such random victims?

“Trent.” Elizabeth reached across the table that was tucked into the small kitchen. “I think it’s time.”

“Time for what?”

She smiled—that wonderful, achingly beautiful smile—and once again, he pushed aside his sorrow and decided to live for the moment.

When Norie woke up from the dream that had restored her memories, she was being manacled. They were still in the barn, but now there were other people there—Ravens.

“What’s going on?” she asked. Her voice sounded tinny. “What are you doing?”

“We’re arresting you and your coconspirators for the deaths of Ravens Orley Ryerson and Bernard Franco and for colluding to cover up their murders.”

The voice was familiar. Norie leaned back and stared up into the now-familiar face. “Hello, Father.”

“That’s Raven Deshane to you,” he said in a haughty voice. “I have no daughter.”

“Whatever.”

Norie’s mouth felt dry, and her head like cotton. She felt different somehow, more alive, as if something electric and foreign lived inside her now. But that power was somehow trapped. No, that was the wrong word. Inaccessible. As if she needed a key to unlock it.

Her father leaned close and whispered, “Don’t bother trying to get to that precious magic of yours. The chains will dampen the powers of even the greatest mage. By tonight, you’ll be bleeding out on the altar.”

She saw Cullen lying next to her, unconscious, and he’d been manacled, too.

“Happy birthday to me,” she muttered. Then she passed out again.

Cullen came awake tied to a chair. Though his first instinct was to expend energy trying to free himself, he squelched the urge. Instead, he inhaled, waited for his vision to quit being so damned fuzzy, and looked around.

Lenore Deshane, his sister, was tied to a chair next to him.

“Hey,” he managed in a low voice.

“Hey.” It was obvious that she’d been awake longer. Given the sweat on her brow, she’d struggled to get out of the bonds. Her wrists were manacled.

“Where’s dear old dad?” he asked.

She shook her head. She was scared, he could see that, but she was holding it together.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but he’s off my Christmas card list.”

She barked a laugh. “Mine, too.”

“Now, children, is that any way to speak about your
father?” Leopold Deshane sauntered forward. Cullen got the impression that others hovered behind the perimeter of their little circle. They’d been placed in a shaft of light beaming down from a hole in the barn roof. But the rest of the place was in darkness.

“The star twins,” said Leopold. “My very own children.” His face went hard. “And your mother hid you from me.”

“She sacrificed herself for us,” said Norie.

“Mary was always prettier than she was smart,” he said. “I tracked you down, Norie, didn’t I?”

“How?” asked Norie.

“It took years to unravel the spellwork—starting with your brother. It took our best wizards to figure out what had been cast, and then we came across the prophecy. I knew then what Mary had done. And then I found out that Millicent hadn’t done her job. You were alive. Turns out that was good news after all.”

“You’re a bastard,” said Cullen conversationally. “And this isn’t going to end well for you.”

Leo shrugged, obviously unconcerned about his son’s threats. “I almost had you killed, too,” he said. “But getting rid of one child was enough of a risk. And a son…well, a son who could carry on the Deshane legacy was better than a girl.” He eyed Cullen with disgust. “What a disappointment you are.”

“Back atcha, Dad.”

Leo’s lips thinned. “You’ll understand why you’re not invited to the sacrifice,” he said. “I just need the pure blood of the female star twin to open the portal to Kahl. And we really can’t have you two together, can we?”

“Together, they can save the world or destroy it,” said Cullen bitterly.

His father laughed. “As soon as your sister is dead, I’ll come for you.”

“Leave her alone,” he said. Man, it hadn’t taken long for him to fall back into the big-brother role. They may have been separated for twenty-five years, but he damned well remembered how he’d felt about his little sister. His mother had always told him to protect her, and he would. “I’ll go with you. Willingly.”

“No,” said Leo. “You’re not the sacrifice.”

“Dad!” Cullen swallowed the pride, the fury that threatened to clog up his throat. “Don’t hurt her. I’ll go. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Yes,” said Leo. “You will.” He rubbed his hands together and offered them an awful smile. “Well, there are preparations to make. And I’ve had enough of family time.” He held up his hands, palms out, and two streams of black issued forth, hitting first Norie and then Cullen in the chest.

Cullen felt as if someone had punched him with a giant iron fist.

Then everything went dark once more.

*  *  *

Norie awoke in a jail cell that held Leticia, Lucinda, and Happy. They were awake, standing near the jail door and conversing with Taylor, who’d been imprisoned in the cell across the way. He was alone. He pressed fully against the bars, his gaze full of worry and anger.

“Norie!”

“I’m fine,” she croaked as she rolled to her knees and sat up. “Where’s Cullen?”

“Here.” In the next cell were Cullen, Gray, and Roan. “The Ravens got us all. There were too many, and they were casting spells before we realized what was going on. We don’t know what happened to the other townspeople.”

“Bespelled is my guess,” said Leticia. “Bastards! Holding us on such outrageous charges. And Deshane! What nerve!”

“It appears that the House of Ravens absolved Deshane of all wrongdoing,” said Gray to Norie.