but Holly remained still and centered.
It was Amandaâs turn. When the knife ran down the center of her palm, she sucked in her breath and murmured,
âOw.â
âLet me see,â Holly demanded. âLet me live through the eyes of Cathers. And Deveraux,â she added.
âNo,â Amanda whispered. âStay away from them.â
âAnd Deveraux,â Holly repeated, ignoring her cousin.
There was a stir around the circle, which Holly also ignored. She pressed her palm against Amandaâsâtheir birthmarks creating two thirds of the lily, which was the symbol of the great House of Cahors. Immediately she felt their combined strength filling her veins.
When we get Nicole back, weâll be the three Ladies of the Lily together. Thereâll be no stopping us from doing whatever we want to do.
âStill your mind, Priestess,â Philippe urged her.
Holly took a deep breath, and did as he asked.
San Francisco
Richard Anderson sat and he thought. He didnât seem to do much else these days. He had been grieving fora long timeâfor years. Then one dayâyesterday, actuallyâhe just stopped. He was done. Done grieving for his wife, done grieving for his marriage, done grieving for his life. It was as though he suddenly had woken up.
He looked around, and strangers were taking care of him. He believed one of them was Amandaâs friendâs mother or aunt or something. He had no idea who the Native American guy was. There was much talk and concern about a Barbara, who apparently wasnât doing well.
And no one could tell him how his girls were doing.
Something had to change. He needed more information first, though. If there was one thing he had learned in Vietnam, it was that you damn well better know what was waiting for you when you leaped. The only lesson he had learned half so well was to crave safety and stability. When his wife, Marie-Claire, had met him, he had been a daredevil. He took risks. When he had come home from the war to his young wife, he had found the most stable job he could and settled down. His computer company had sprung from that, and it had never been a very risky enterprise.
She had never understood his desire for stability; he could see that now. Maybe he hadnât been excitingenough for her at that point. Instead of actually trying to talk about it or ask for a divorce, though, she had snuck around behind his back. Her fault. He had known she was doing it and had done nothing. His fault. He had been too worried about keeping her. Having two little girls hadnât helped. He had felt such a need to keep their home life secure for them, so that they wouldnât have to face risk, uncertainty.
He had sure botched that. Maybe instead he should have taught his girls to survive, to be tough. Maybe that would stand them in better stead now that they were fighting such evil. He closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do to change the past. He could, however, change the future. Maybe it was time for his daughters to discover that their old man knew a thing or two about life and war. He couldnât do magic, but he bet theyâd be surprised to learn exactly what he could do.
FIVE Â
BLOODSTONE
Harken now, thereâs work ahead
For every Deveraux, alive or dead
Oh, Green Man grant us this we pray
Courage and victory at end of day
Goddess help us face our fears
Drying now our angry tears
Give us the strength to prevail
As we glimpse beneath the veil
Salem, Massachusetts: October 29, 1692
Jonathan Deveraux smiled as he awoke. He could hear the rain pounding on the roof, and from afar thunder rumbled ominously. Yes, it was going to be a glorious day.
As he dressed he mentally reviewed the events of the past months. Salem had been a quiet town until January, when young Elizabeth Parris and Abigail Williams had started crying that there were witches in their midst. Hallucinations, seizures, and trancesexperienced by them
It was Amandaâs turn. When the knife ran down the center of her palm, she sucked in her breath and murmured,
âOw.â
âLet me see,â Holly demanded. âLet me live through the eyes of Cathers. And Deveraux,â she added.
âNo,â Amanda whispered. âStay away from them.â
âAnd Deveraux,â Holly repeated, ignoring her cousin.
There was a stir around the circle, which Holly also ignored. She pressed her palm against Amandaâsâtheir birthmarks creating two thirds of the lily, which was the symbol of the great House of Cahors. Immediately she felt their combined strength filling her veins.
When we get Nicole back, weâll be the three Ladies of the Lily together. Thereâll be no stopping us from doing whatever we want to do.
âStill your mind, Priestess,â Philippe urged her.
Holly took a deep breath, and did as he asked.
San Francisco
Richard Anderson sat and he thought. He didnât seem to do much else these days. He had been grieving fora long timeâfor years. Then one dayâyesterday, actuallyâhe just stopped. He was done. Done grieving for his wife, done grieving for his marriage, done grieving for his life. It was as though he suddenly had woken up.
He looked around, and strangers were taking care of him. He believed one of them was Amandaâs friendâs mother or aunt or something. He had no idea who the Native American guy was. There was much talk and concern about a Barbara, who apparently wasnât doing well.
And no one could tell him how his girls were doing.
Something had to change. He needed more information first, though. If there was one thing he had learned in Vietnam, it was that you damn well better know what was waiting for you when you leaped. The only lesson he had learned half so well was to crave safety and stability. When his wife, Marie-Claire, had met him, he had been a daredevil. He took risks. When he had come home from the war to his young wife, he had found the most stable job he could and settled down. His computer company had sprung from that, and it had never been a very risky enterprise.
She had never understood his desire for stability; he could see that now. Maybe he hadnât been excitingenough for her at that point. Instead of actually trying to talk about it or ask for a divorce, though, she had snuck around behind his back. Her fault. He had known she was doing it and had done nothing. His fault. He had been too worried about keeping her. Having two little girls hadnât helped. He had felt such a need to keep their home life secure for them, so that they wouldnât have to face risk, uncertainty.
He had sure botched that. Maybe instead he should have taught his girls to survive, to be tough. Maybe that would stand them in better stead now that they were fighting such evil. He closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do to change the past. He could, however, change the future. Maybe it was time for his daughters to discover that their old man knew a thing or two about life and war. He couldnât do magic, but he bet theyâd be surprised to learn exactly what he could do.
FIVE Â
BLOODSTONE
Harken now, thereâs work ahead
For every Deveraux, alive or dead
Oh, Green Man grant us this we pray
Courage and victory at end of day
Goddess help us face our fears
Drying now our angry tears
Give us the strength to prevail
As we glimpse beneath the veil
Salem, Massachusetts: October 29, 1692
Jonathan Deveraux smiled as he awoke. He could hear the rain pounding on the roof, and from afar thunder rumbled ominously. Yes, it was going to be a glorious day.
As he dressed he mentally reviewed the events of the past months. Salem had been a quiet town until January, when young Elizabeth Parris and Abigail Williams had started crying that there were witches in their midst. Hallucinations, seizures, and trancesexperienced by them
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