“They described it as an interesting experience,” he said. “I will be curious to hear the details of their Zimbabwe visit.”
Ari studied the young priestess’s face. “What will you do now? Continue your fight with the vampire elders?”
“Not anytime soon. For a while, we’ll need to hide, rebuild our coven. Perhaps we can stay with one of the larger clans. The next time we take on someone from the O-Seven we’ll be stronger, smarter.”
“Why can’t you just leave them alone?”
“Don’t judge us too harshly. We have no choice. If we don’t fight them, they’ll wipe us out. Come to Europe. I’ll show you how risky our lives are every day.” She offered Ari her hand. “Good-bye, my sister. I will not forget our debt to you.”
Ari watched her walk away. “You think it’s really that bad?”
“I am afraid so,” Andreas said. “When I left Europe, it was much as she describes.”
“But that was two centuries ago.”
“A very small space of time for the elders to change or scale back a war they have fought for a thousand years.”
Before she went to bed that night, Ari called the hospital where Hawkson had been taken. Although the surgeons had been unable to reattach the arm and the slashes across his chest were deep, he’d made it through surgery. He was in a coma from shock and blood loss; his condition was listed as critical. The nurse hesitated to give a prognosis, only describing it as guarded. When Ari asked about his sister, she learned the girl was still hospitalized. She was scheduled for release to after-care in a couple of days. After-care. After what? After they gave up?
Ari hoped Hawkson would recover quickly to be there for his sister. The nurse hadn’t said anything about remission or recovery. After-care sounded like hospice.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ari slept late the following morning and didn’t make it to her office until almost noon. When she arrived, she found a summons from the Magic Council president. Leaving her office and crossing into the ornate hall, built on the magnificent lines of the thirteenth century, Ari wondered why she’d been summoned. Had the witches done something wrong already? Had the council heard from the O-Seven?
“Ari, come in.” The elder wizard motioned to her through the doorway. “I thought we should talk privately. Please, have a seat.” He waited until she was settled. “I noticed a discrepancy between your written report to me and your testimony last night. The ley lines. The vortex. You didn’t reveal their existence to the council.”
“No, Mr. President, I didn’t.” She fidgeted, hoping she’d find the right words to convince him of the need for compromise. Andreas had taken a leap of faith when he’d agreed to telling the president the truth. She gripped the seat of her chair with both hands and leaned forward. “I wanted to talk with you first. The vampires are claiming ownership of the cave, or maybe I should say responsibility for it. I have to agree. Anything else would be in violation of the treaties.”
“Are you certain you are unbiased? I assume this is Andreas’s position you are advocating.”
Ari flushed slightly, but held her tongue until he finished.
“The vortex is both a source of great power and a curse. It must be guarded constantly against an attack from the other side. I’m sure you’re correct that the vampires would protect it.” He raised his shaggy, white brows. “But what about the research? The study of this phenomenon would greatly add to our store of magical knowledge.”
“I understand, but the vampires have a justifiable fear of losing control of their caverns.” Ari sent him a shrewd look. “I’m sure you know there’s a bigger security problem than just who has control. If the vortex becomes common knowledge, the chances increase it will be used or misused by the wrong person who isn’t trained to use it. Even someone with no evil intent might accidentally cause catastrophic changes in our timeline.”
“True. Sad, but true,” the wizard admitted. “Do you have a compromise to suggest?”
“Not yet, but I have an idea for one. Let me talk with Andreas. Maybe a single researcher.”
The president rubbed his beard. “See what he says, and we’ll talk privately about this again. Now, the Indian artifact, do you intend to continue the search?”
“Of course. If we don’t find it, more treasure hunters will come. The rumor has already leaked to the press. The stone has to be removed and hidden somewhere else.”
“Good.” The president sat back with a satisfied expression. “I’m happy to hear we are agreed. Make it a priority.”
“Yes, sir.” Ari stood to leave. “It was already at the top of my agenda.”
An unfamiliar dwarf was on duty when she returned to the cave entrance, and she felt a renewed anger at Ursula’s senseless killing.
“Bad night, Guardian.” The dwarf peered at her with a deep scowl. “Do you expect more trouble?” He patted a large spiked club at his side.
“No, I think the bad guys are all dead or they’ve left town. Were you friends with the dwarf who died?”
“He was a cousin.”
“I’m sorry.” She studied his face. The dwarf community placed great importance on retribution. “If it helps, his killer is dead.”
The dwarf bobbed his head, as if he’d known and already celebrated the answer.
She couldn’t think of what else to say, so she turned toward the entrance and switched on her flashlight.
“You expect to be in there a while?”
“No, I’m following a hunch. Either it will prove right or not, but it won’t take me long.”
The first thing she noticed inside the caves was the comfortable silence, the oneness with nature that had been lacking when Ursula’s evil presence hung over the town. She quickly made her way to the Chamber of Ages, where her unexpected arrival brought two armed weretigers to their feet with guns drawn.
“It’s only me. I need another look at Spirit Cave.” She avoided looking at the spot where Ursula died, but there was no psychic trace of the vampiress. The cleansing spell had obliterated her presence. The rest of the chamber had been cleaned by a vampire crew overnight. All her senses detected was a faint, metallic scent of blood, overlaid by a more satisfying tinge of expended witch fire.
She turned toward the tunnel, and one of the guards called out to her. “No one’s been in there today.”
She entered Spirit Cave, finding nothing except the vortex’s natural barrier at the opening. Her flashlight flickered over the room, stopping briefly on the bloodstains were Dyani had died. The cleanup crew had not been in here. Andreas must have made it forbidden territory after learning of the vortex’s power. It was typical he hadn’t mentioned the ban to her, but she’d remind him to have the stains removed. It was wrong to have a blood spill in such a sacred place.
Planting her feet in the center of the room next to the vortex, Ari repeated Blackhawk’s words aloud. “Where worlds meet and time stands still, look for a sign. Follow where the arrow flies and pull down the sky.”
The first part referred to the ley lines’ vortex; the second to the etching on the floor. She uncovered it, trying to see the symbol with a new perspective, setting aside anything they’d done before. When she sighted along the extra straight line—the arrow—she arrived at the same crevice she’d found before. This must be where she needed to “pull down the sky.” She turned her flashlight on the ceiling just above the crevice but didn’t find anything unusual. She moved the light beam across the rest of the ceiling, foot by foot. Except for half a dozen partial stalactites that had stopped growing hundreds of years ago when new cracks had allowed this room to dry, the only unusual marks on the ceiling were the gouges left by the witches’ pick axes.
She walked to the niche where her earlier stun had marked the inner wall. Ducking her head to peek inside, she searched with one hand. The tips of her fingers felt along the top of the enclosure, noted its rough texture compared with the smoother rock around it. Reversing the flashlight, she banged on the top surface with the handle.
After the third blow, it began to crumble. Ari felt a rush of excitement as her certainty grew that it was not solid rock but an artificial “sky.” She pounded harder. Suddenly, a large chunk fell down, dumping dirt and small rock chips. She shook the mess off her hand and began to brush the pieces aside. She picked up a clump to inspect it—a mixture of clay and rock debris. Clever. If they had originally been mixed with water, the resulting goo would have worked like concrete.
Ari lost interest in the process when she spied a pouch of rough animal hide almost hidden in the debris.
Eagerly she tugged at a darkened string and pulled the bag free from the last chunks. Ari knelt on the cave floor, unwound the thin strips of rawhide that kept the pouch sealed, and dumped the contents. A large, dark stone tumbled out. Ari caught it in midair, her hand warming with a surge of earth power. Her magic began a gentle hum.
Small pinpoints of orange intermingled with multicolored specks glimmered from deep inside the dark green bloodstone. Its glowing surface was smooth, not polished by modern machines but by frequent handling. Ari sat back on her heels in awe. Chief Blackhawk’s hands had left that finish. The legendary chieftain must have run his rough, calloused fingers over the stone many times while meditating and invoking its power.
She turned it over and over to admire the colors, to appreciate its strength. If it could do half of what Hawkson thought—or what the coven had hoped it could do, it was the most powerful amulet she’d ever held. Her witch magic was telling her it recognized a compatible, friendly energy.
Now what? She’d found it. How did she safeguard it? And who was the rightful owner? Hawkson’s tribe? The vampires? The Magic Council? All had defensible claims.
According to the McFarland treaty with the humans, the Magic Council held theoretical control over any object having “significant magic capable of disrupting the balance of power.” The quote came from the Magic Council Rules that she’d looked up when she’d first learned about the ley lines. Did the stone have that kind of power? Maybe. No, probably. Especially if it fell into the wrong hands. And the council had another basis for their claim: it had been recovered by a council employee.