Page 14 of The Rising Dark
“I’ll wait for you,” Zachary said as the Sisters got out.For a moment, Lavinia surveyed the surroundings.Hills rose around them, the road lying in a valley of sorts.The sky was cloudy, hiding the sun.Still, being so out in the open was draining, and neither she nor Octavia would be able to rely much on their strength.Then again, strength was often useless against the tricks of witchcraft, so perhaps it didn’t matter much.She tasted the air and could tell that Octavia was doing the same beside her.Traces of various animals, the sharp but faded scent of a car running on diesel that had passed down here a couple of hours ago.The grass, of course, and the ever-present sting of pollution edging every other scent.No humans nearby—no people whatsoever.
“What do we do?Just wait here?”Octavia asked.Lavinia weighed their options, assessing the land around them.
“The tree,” she said finally.It looked exactly like the kind of thing witches liked—old, gnarly, its branches jutting into the sky like arms.
Octavia fell into step behind her, her movements just a tad too sharp to seem relaxed.Lavinia shared the feeling.It was always unnerving to meet witches, even if they were ostensibly their allies.
They climbed the hill, the raised position revealing more of the surrounding countryside.It was quite beautiful, in a way, but this was not the time to enjoy it.Before they could reach the top crowned by the old tree, somethingshifted.
One moment, there had been nothing.Just the rustle of the wind among the tree’s leaves and the song of a lonely bird twittering in a high branch, and the next, they were there.Three figures, cloaked in shadows despite the late afternoon light, appeared without a sound.Not a single branch stirred.It was as if they had risen from the ground, spat out by the earth among the roots of the ancient oak.Witchcraft.The small hairs on the back of Lavinia’s neck rose.They were showing off, flaunting their powers.
She kept her facial features immobile, not allowing herself to show surprise.Whatever happened, they would not reveal any weakness.The witches would exploit it, experts as they were in psychological warfare, leveraging the pressure until the person cracked.They could populate dreams with your worst nightmares, forcing you to relive them again and again.Lavinia had seen the results of a witch’s retribution a century ago.She had resolved there and then to never anger a witch.
The person in the middle spoke, the shadows slowly dissolving into the air as wisps of smoke.They revealed Arran, all six feet of him, broad-shouldered and bearded.He was only in his early twenties.Arran was very young to be on the Council which usually valued experience over ambition, which was probably why he got stuck with the unappealing role of vampire liaison.
“Sword Sister Lavinia of Coriovallum, fourth of her name, and Sword Sister Octavia of Lugdunum, seventh of her name.”
“Arran,” Lavinia nodded.She didn’t know his last name or family designation.Witches seemed to purposefully cultivate an air of mystery.
He did not introduce the two others.The one on the right, a middle-aged woman with black hair streaked with grey, looked familiar.The other, an older man with weathered skin, she had never seen before.Like all witches, they reeked of magic.Not just of the ingredients and tools they used for their craft, but magic itself: the smell of raw power, that indefinable potential that the witches somehow managed to manipulate and harness.Lavinia always thought it smelled a little bit like a warm spice, like cinnamon or maybe cardamom, but she’d never shared that thought with anyone—least of all the witches themselves.
“The Sisterhood appreciates you meeting us at such short notice,” Lavinia started.Internally, she lamented that Vesta was hours away.This kind of thing was her Sister’s strength.Lavinia was a soldier, not a diplomat.“We have reason to believe a rogue vampire and a warlock are killing humans in close proximity.It’s possible they’re working together.”
The woman scoffed.In her loose-fitting black clothing, she reminded Lavinia of a crow.Arran tried to manage his expression, but wasn’t entirely able to suppress his scepticism either.The man on his other side didn’t make such an attempt at all.He stared at the vampires in barely concealed contempt.
“What evidence do you have of this?”Arran said.
Lavinia quickly outlined the events of last night, minimising Michelle’s role as much as she could, and added the insights from today’s discovery to hopefully divert their attention.She wished she could keep Michelle out of the conversation entirely.For some reason, she felt rather protective of her.
Arran, though, immediately latched onto the lack of detail.“And the demon’s quarry?Where is she?”
“Safe,” Lavinia said through clenched teeth.
“Under your protection, then.”He exchanged a wordless glance with the woman at his side.“We will need to examine her.”
“No,” Lavinia growled.
Arran raised an eyebrow.“There is no need to get territorial.”
Lavinia swallowed, suppressing the sudden urge to bare her fangs.“Apologies.Still no.”
“Then I should perhaps remind you that the terms of our treaty clearly state that neither side will restrict access to a member of their own party, regardless of circumstances.”
Lavinia frowned and said, “But she’s not a witch.”
“And how sure are you of that?”
“Very.”It was impossible that Michelle was a witch.Her shock at the demon’s appearance was genuine.Lavinia had been able to smell her fear.She hadn’t known what a demon was, and had shown genuine surprise and confusion.There was no way Lavinia could have been fooled.
“What do you want with her anyway?”Octavia said.
A quiet struggle reigned among the witches.Eventually Arran won out, apparently having wrestled permission to share information from the others.“We too have a dissenter among ourselves,” he admitted.Dissenterwas a polite word for what he meant.Warlock.
“How long have you known?”Lavinia asked.
“Two months.”
“Were you going to share this information with us at some point?”
