Blood and Fire (33 page)

“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.

The vampires’ position was just as good, if they chose to assert it. The artifact was found in their sovereign territory. Yet Andreas had indicated a willingness for Hawkson to take it away.

So, what about the tribe? By heritage and need, Hawkson’s claim was strong, but giving it to him might not be an option. The shaman was in no condition to take custody or protect the stone. He was fighting for his life in a sterile hospital room.

Ari stood, brushing dust from the knees of her jeans. She slipped the stone into its leather bag and stuffed it in her pouch. She warded the opening to Spirit Cave and left, so engrossed in her own thoughts that she neglected to speak to either the weretigers or the dwarf on her way out.

She had an important decision to make.

* * *

Ari stood in the hushed hospital room looking down at Hawkson’s gray face. Numerous tubes trailed from his body, lying motionless except for the regular up and down of his chest. His left shoulder was heavily bandaged, empty space where the missing arm should be. Machines quietly hummed and beeped around him. Tiny lights—red, green, yellow, blue—seemed bright in the subdued lighting.

Ari studied his broad, rugged features. Strong character was etched there. He was a good man. After several minutes, she pulled the bloodstone’s leather bag out of her pouch and opened it. Carefully picking up Hawkson’s right hand, she placed the bloodstone on his palm and closed his limp fingers around it. She rested his hand on his chest and sat down to wait.

An hour went by, then another. She made two calls, finally talking with Andreas late in the afternoon. He and the president of the Magic Council both knew where she was and why, and she had their agreement. All she could do now was wait for the powers that be, including the bloodstone, to make a final decision on Hawkson’s fate. The future of his spirit was a battle only he could fight.

She sat back and let her body relax. It had been a long, tense, three weeks.

During the evening and night, the nurses came and went at least once an hour. Andreas stopped in around midnight and sat with her for a while. Still she waited. She dozed off occasionally but never for long. By default, she was the current protector of the bloodstone. She would not leave it unguarded.

As dawn began to streak the sky, she first noticed a change in his breathing, deeper, quicker. Then his hand twitched. Hawkson’s lids fluttered twice and opened. He stared straight up at the ceiling, as if seeking his bearings, and drew a long breath. He refocused on Ari hovering at the foot of his bed.

“You’re back,” she said.

He showed no sign of recognition. Her heart sank. Had all this waiting been for nothing? Was his mind gone?

“Do you know who I am? Or remember the fight in the caves?”

He blinked, his eyes wandered away, then back to her. He parted his lips. “The walking dead,” he whispered.

“She’s dead. Permanently.” He would eventually recall more details, and he’d have other questions. For now that seemed to be all he needed to hear. She watched as his fingers tightened on the stone. The muscles of his face twitched, and he raised his hand to look at what he held.

He started to speak and stopped to clear his throat. “You found it. Brought it to me.”

“Yes, it was in the wall. Blackhawk had shoved it into a crevice and sealed it with mud and rock.”

One corner of his lips lifted. “Smart.”

“Yes, he was. And his directions were good, once we had them all.”

Hawkson shut his eyes, then opened them again. “You have been with me many hours. I knew you were here…and felt the stone.”

“Since yesterday afternoon. I’m glad you’re finally awake.”

“The bloodstone healed me.”

Ari simply nodded. She didn’t know whether it was the bloodstone or Hawkson’s constitution or his faith, but it made little difference. It was enough that he believed.

“The stone is yours. You are the rightful heir. The vampires and the Magic Council have agreed that you should be its keeper.”

“My sister…”

“She’s holding her own, from what the nurse told me.”

“The curse is broken.” A smile tugged at his dry lips, a glow lighting his face.

So that’s what hope looked like. Maybe it would be enough for his sister too.

“You argued my claim,” Hawkson said, as if he’d sorted out how the stone had become his responsibility.

“It wasn’t hard. But your people now have the burden to keep it safe.”

“It will remain with me as long as I live.” He licked his dry lips, and she gave him a sip of water. “When the time comes for me to meet my ancestors, I will place it in the hands of the next generation.” He looked up at her with a puzzled frown. “Why would you do this for me? For us?”

Ari cocked her head, surprised he had to ask. “I could give you a dozen reasons, but only one really matters.” Her lips quirked in a smile, thinking how much her cop partner would approve of the answer. “It was the right thing to do.”

Epilogue

A week had passed since the cavern fight resulted in Ursula’s death, and yet only a handful knew the truth. The O-Seven had made inquiries about her, but Daron and the other Canadian princes pled ignorance. In fact, Daron was the only one outside of Olde Town who knew the enforcer was dead. After Andreas called him with the news, a select few of Daron’s forces, heavily armed, had taken over Ursula plane, killed the guards, and dumped the plane and bodies in the middle of a remote lake.

To the outside world, Ursula and her plane had simply disappeared. Andreas and Daron told anyone who asked that Ursula had talked about returning to Europe, implying her plane must have gone down over the ocean. The O-Seven didn’t believe it, but so far the secret had held.

Life in Canada and in Olde Town slowly reverted to normal. The vampires and lycanthropes took down the barriers, put away the heavy weapons, and returned to their own homes.

Everyone except Ari, but today was the day.

She stretched lazily as she climbed out of bed, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt before padding to the kitchen—Andreas’s kitchen—in her bare feet and pouring her first cup of coffee. She still didn’t know who started the pot every morning, probably Samuel, but it was nice to find it waiting. She flipped on the TV to watch the morning news.

Sitting on a stool at the counter, she sipped the hot liquid and listened to the broadcast with one ear. When the on-screen reporter mentioned Barron & Carmody Adventures, she looked up to see Barron’s sister Kelly smiling and shaking hands with Max Carmody, sealing their new partnership. Ari nearly choked on her coffee. How quickly things changed.

She continued to watch through the weather forecast and turned the television off when the stock market news came on. Andreas was the only person she knew who paid attention to the Dow Jones.

The thought of him brought a twinge of unease. Last night, when she’d mentioned this was her moving day, he hadn’t said much. His jawline had firmed, but he didn’t argue. He was learning to let her make her own decisions. She was grateful for that, so why the funky mood? Maybe it was just the big job ahead.

She’d rescheduled today’s office appointments to allow plenty of time for an unhurried move. It was amazing how much
stuff
she had spread throughout the Victorian house. She’d taken over two entire shelves in the pantry for her herbs and potions. Her favorite CDs dotted the rec room and the basement gym; books on magic and spells had been added to the library. Ari sighed. Collecting her scattered belongings might be the most time-consuming part of her move.

Refilling her mug, she carried it up to the Chantilly Suite, stopping to pat Bella and Dona, who were snoozing in the morning sun that came through her bedroom window. Mother and daughter spent most of their day together. They’d need extra attention after the separation.