The Keeping Place (Book Six in the Witch Hunter Saga) Page 15

  “Hello, little one,” he said, surprised to see her wandering the house on her own. “Where has everyone gone?”

  Ismena was already grown enough to play quietly and not need constant vigilance, but Isobel hadn’t let her out of her sight since she was born.

  She smiled up at him expectantly, like she knew he was worried about something and was waiting for him to tell her.

  “Do you need somethin’?” he asked. “Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head and tugged on his shirt once more a frown pulling at her mouth.

  Tristan shoved off the chair and knelt before the little girl, who only stood there and watched him with her strange honey colored eyes. Even he could see there was a depth in her that shouldn’t be present in a two-year-old child, and it was unnerving. How much did she understand and was unable to voice? Perhaps she did sense his melancholy and desired to help.

  “I don’t know how much you can understand,” he said, smoothing back her fire-like hair. “But I need to tell someone, and perhaps you are the perfect little princess who could listen.”

  She stared up at him expectantly, her honey eyes sparkling with curiosity. What a strange little creature she was. He’d never had much interaction with children after he turned, but little Ismena stirred memories of his own daughter. When his human life had been taken from him, it’d been years since he’d seen his family. The Crusades had been brutal, and many men had been parted from families the same as his. He never knew what became of his wife and daughter, but he hoped they’d found happiness after his loss.

  “I can’t trust myself,” he said, his thoughts heavy with the absence of his family. “Eleanor cast her compulsion on me, and I feel as if I might turn at any moment. What if I’m not safe? What if I hurt you without knowing what I’m doin’?” He cast his gaze to the floor and shook his head. “I don’t belong anymore. I lost my family a very long time ago. I can’t be the cause of this one’s demise.”

  He glanced up in surprise as a little hand brushed against his cheek, and her warm skin began to heat his coldness.

  “Happy!” she chortled, then grasped his hand, tugging him forward.

  He blinked, his throat feeling tight with emotion. With one word, she’d dismissed a thousand years of anguish, and he felt lighter. Had she placed some of her power inside him?

  “Where are we goin’?” he asked as he rose, and she led him through the house, her tiny feet treading purposely as they went.

  She didn’t reply, determined in her course. When they entered the living room at the front of the manor, she saw the mess of toys and smiled.

  Immediately, Ismena threw herself down onto the floor and upended the plastic container, spilling colored blocks over the floor.

  “Block!” she cried, looking up at him with sparkling eyes, a wide smile on her face.

  “Do you wish me to play?” he asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

  Clapping her hands, the blocks began to rise up off the floor, hovering in the air.

  “That’s quite impressive,” he said, plucking up a green rectangle. “Can you build a tower?”

  She nodded and squinted her eyes. Immediately, he felt the air tingle with power, and the blocks began to float, merging with one another. First, the foundation formed and then the walls, each little piece of plastic clicking into place until there were no more that fit.

  When she was done, Ismena smiled up at Tristan, extremely pleased with her handiwork. Then she clapped her hands once more, and the entire thing crumbled to the ground.

  If this was her level of control after two weeks, even at her accelerated growth, then she was going to be a very powerful witch, indeed. In all his years hunting dark witches with Arrow, he’d never seen a child display such talents. A child who manifested power other than an accidental burst of psychic ability was a rare occurrence. Ismena was incredible.

  Watching as she assembled another tower, he made a decision. As long as Ismena wanted him to stay, he would. Given half the chance, Nye would be glad to see the back of him, and his position as right-hand man to the leader of the London vampires was replaceable. He could already see Reed as a fine candidate, though he was still rather green.

  Yes, it was a fine idea. As long as Ismena wanted him, he would do what he could to help the little witch. Her life would be an uphill battle all the way, and if he could alleviate some of the pressure on her, then he would.

  Yes, he would stay.

  Isobel stared at the scene unfolding before her and shook her head in surprise.

  A thousand-year-old vampire was sitting on the floor piecing together building blocks with her two-week-old daughter, who was now a very well-developed two-year-old.

  “Isobel,” Nye said, appearing out of thin air behind her.

  “Shh,” she murmured, waving her hand at him. “Come look at this.”

  Nye leaned over her shoulder, and when he saw what was happening, a low growl sounded in his throat. He went to stride forward—probably to rip Tristan a new one for being alone in the same room as his daughter—but she pressed her palm against his chest.

  “Don’t,” she whispered.

  “Isobel. He disappeared for weeks and arrived just in time to witness the birth. Now he’s in there alone with Ismena. Forgive me if I’m overprotective.”

  “She’s perceptive, Nye. She knows his heart and wouldn’t be in there if she sensed danger in him.”

  “How do you know? We don’t even know what she’s capable of. We don’t even know…” he trailed off, not wanting to voice their greatest fear.

  “You can’t deny the things she’s been doing,” she argued. “I trust her, and now I trust him. Tristan is one of us and always has been. He’s been questioning his place here ever since he was compelled. Right now, seeing Ismena playing with him without a care? He’s got a place, and it’s right here with us.”

  “I never liked his smugness,” Nye said sullenly.

  She elbowed him in the stomach. “He’s not smug.”

  “He’s a know-it-all.”

  Isobel sighed, knowing she would never win this argument with Nye. The spy had always had a rivalry with the knight, or at least, that’s what she understood from the bits and pieces he’d told her in the last few months.

  “She’s going to grow up within the year,” she said, voicing her thoughts. “She’ll have the weight of the supernatural world on her shoulders whether she wants it or not. She’s going to need all of us, Nye. She might have infinite power and knowledge, but somehow, I don’t think it lends itself very well to social skills. Magic, yes. Making friends?” She shook her head, worrying about her little girl’s future.

  “Dad, Dad, Dad!” Ismena cried when she saw them standing in the doorway.

  Tristan glanced up at them, his smile beginning to fade, and Isobel nodded, letting him know she was completely fine with their current arrangement.

  Nye sighed and strode into the room. “What do we have here?” he declared, surveying her creation.

  “Block!” she cried and then pointed to Tristan. “Tri-tan!” She tugged on Nye’s trouser leg until he was forced to sit beside her.

  Isobel smiled, a laugh escaping her lips as she watched the two big, bad vampires playing with the little redheaded witch.

  Yeah, she was pretty sure they’d be okay.

  For now.

  Chapter 17

  Gabby sat by the fireplace in the study, flipping through one of the grimoires from the bookshelf behind her.

  The weeks were starting to fly by, and Ismena was still growing faster than she’d anticipated. Her search for answers had been fruitless, her list of questions growing with each passing day. There was no record of a child like this ever being born before. It was literally unheard of.

  Alex heaved a sigh of frustration as he flipped through another tome that belonged to Regulus’s collection of grimoires. She didn’t know why he was helping since he couldn’t read witch speak, but he was just as devoted to h
is niece as they all were.

  Nye sat behind the desk, tending to his empire in brooding silence, completing the picture of awkwardness they currently sat in.

  “Ismena’s downstairs with Tristan,” Isobel said, entering the room. “They’ll be occupied for hours.”

  “Entrapment,” Alex said with an amused smile. “Tristan is her new favorite toy. She forces him to go everywhere with her.”

  “At least he’s being tortured,” Nye quipped, earning himself a slap on the arm from Isobel. “What? Have you seen him with that little pink plastic pony? I’ve got photos.”

  She perched on the edge of the desk and smiled. “Oh, I know you do, but I’ve got videos.”

  “You do?” the spy asked, sitting up straight. Holding out his hand he gestured for her to give him the phone. “I want to see.”

  Gabby laughed and shook her head. It was a good feeling seeing her friends so lighthearted after everything that had happened in the last few months. Kidnappings, wraiths, rituals, being hunted by werewolves, reanimated corpses attacking the house, her poor wilted garden, arguing with the ancestor spirits…the list went on. The biggest surprise of all had been the arrival of little Ismena, who wasn’t quite so little anymore.

  A month had passed since the birth, and the newborn had unfurled and sprouted into a four-year-old girl. She was the image of her father with her mother’s coloring, and it was becoming clearer every day. Ismena was going to be a beauty with the weight of the entire world on her shoulders.

  She’d spent as much time as she was able to with the little witch, testing her abilities and teaching her spells and tricks. She could read the spells in Gabby’s grimoire but didn’t need them at all. She could grow a simple flower in her palm without much thought at all. She could float in the air for a few seconds when she jumped. Objects had a habit of hovering around the room, and her spoon bent when she had a tantrum at the dinner table. Not to mention the fact she seemed to understand the depths of everyone’s emotions. Tristan had told her Ismena had calmed his inner torment with a simple touch when she was only two weeks old.

  “Everything she does is instinctive,” Gabby said, voicing her thoughts. “She doesn’t need a spell to follow, and she doesn’t need herbs or elixirs. She just does things. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “So none of that salt and pepper shit you put everywhere?” Nye asked with a smirk. “I’m forever finding it all over my paperwork.”

  “You have paperwork?” Isobel asked with a frown.

  “I’m trying to imagine what she’ll be like when she’s all grown up and what she’ll do, but I can’t picture it,” Alex mused.

  “Give it another seventeen weeks,” Nye said, flipping a gold letter opener over and over in his hand. “Then she’ll be twenty-one. Just thank your lucky stars we don’t have to suffer through a decade of teenageitis.”

  “Growing up is meant to be the fun part,” Isobel grumbled. “The milestones…”

  “I don’t know what it’s like now, but growing up was harsh and pitiful when I was a boy,” the spy said. “If you grew up at all.”

  “You can hardly compare the Middle Ages to now,” Gabby said, rolling her eyes. “So not the same thing.”

  “Yeah, there’s a thing called healthcare,” Alex said. “People live longer, and they grow taller.”

  “Watch yourself,” Nye spat. “You may be a founder, Alex, but it doesn’t give you permission to call me short.”

  “The way you’re acting, maybe you should be the one downstairs playing with pink plastic ponies with Ismena,” Isobel said. “Tristan would actually offer some useful advice instead of picking fights.”

  “There is no advice,” Nye said, flipping the letter opener again. “There is only one day at a time.”

  “He’s right, I’m afraid,” Gabby said, closing the grimoire and placing it on the little table beside her.

  “See?” the spy quipped, winking at Isobel.

  “You’re lucky you’re handsome,” she retorted.

  “Otherwise?”

  Isobel tried to hide her smile. “Otherwise, I’d get Gabby to bar you from coming inside the house.”

  “Everyone has referred to her as the Immortal Witch,” Gabby said, attempting to get the conversation back on track. “Ismena, the original one, said it herself. She’ll grow up to a certain point, and there, she’ll remain.”

  “If her destiny is to resurrect the Unhallowed, then what happens after that?” Alex asked, scratching his head. “What happens to someone after they fulfill the purpose of their existence?”

  That was a deep question Gabby didn’t know the answer to, but she suspected Ismena’s destiny was twofold depending on which path she chose. It always came back to the light or the dark, no matter which way she shaped their predicament in her mind.

  The others had thrown around wild suggestions that the little witch would cease to be once she’d expelled her power and that Eleanor planned to siphon her like a battery or even use her as a sacrifice. All of them were their greatest fears, but all were the most extreme. Gabby didn’t want to believe any of them were even a possibility.

  If she could find a way to get the power herself, she could spare Ismena from becoming involved at all and do the job herself. Then Ismena’s destiny would change entirely, and there would be yet another path for her to follow.

  “They just go on, I suppose,” she replied. “I doubt people drop dead the moment they realize their life’s work is complete.”

  “Besides, Ismena’s destiny isn’t to resurrect that cow Eleanor and her bitchy coven. Not anymore,” Isobel said with a pout. “Her destiny is a much happier one. I won’t have it any other way.”

  Nye’s cell phone began to ring, and he pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen. Answering the call with a brisk, “What,” he exited the room.

  “So all we can do is watch and wait?” Alex asked. “There’s nothing we can do?”

  Gabby shook her head. There wasn’t.

  “The best thing we can possibly do is everything we’ve already been doing. Care for her, teach her, love her.”

  “And wait for Eleanor to rear her ugly head.” Alex glanced at Gabby, an unasked question lingering in his eyes.

  Gabby turned away, her mind turning to the task ahead. How they were going to defeat the Unhallowed without using Ismena’s power was beyond her, but there was no other option. She had to find a way. She had to.

  Leaving the study, Gabby found Nye out in the hall, pacing back and forth, talking furiously on his phone.

  When he saw the witch, he cut the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

  “Don’t stop on my account,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve got bigger fish to fry than whatever infighting between vampire gangs you’re attempting to squash.”

  “For once, there’s none of that,” Nye said. “Shock horror.”

  “That would have to be a first.”

  “After Ismena was born, I sent the Six out to track the wraith,” he said, glancing over his shoulder toward the stairs. The faint sounds of Ismena’s happy chattering floated up from the living room, a constant reminder of what was at stake.

  “Have they found anything?” Gabby asked.

  “Nothing,” he replied, gritting his teeth. “It’s like she disappeared into thin air.”

  “I’m not surprised. She’s biding her time. Waiting for the right moment.”

  “Which is?”

  She shrugged. “I’m winging this just as much as you are.”

  “All I can see on our horizon is a huge pile of wraith shit,” Nye said, glaring at her. “I won’t let her take Ismena, but I’m not sure I’ll have a choice. Tell me you’ve got an idea, Gabby. Doesn’t matter how farfetched it is, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Nye was ready to sacrifice himself for his daughter? The shocks just kept coming these days.

  “I’d like to say I’ve got something, but I haven’t,” she said.

>   “What about your ghost buddies?” he asked. “They were awfully cheery when they gave Mena that diamond necklace. It saved her once, so maybe it can save her again.”

  Gabby shook her head. “No, it doesn’t work like that. It’s not a weapon. It’s merely for her protection. It saved her once, but I’m not sure it will again now that Eleanor has seen it. Right now, we need something to end the threat altogether.”

  “Gabby, I hate to put all of this on you, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  She laughed, attempting to alleviate some of the stress that was weighing them all down. “Nye Saer, admitting he’s indebted to a witch? It must be a miracle.”

  “No playing around,” he hissed. “This has to end. That little girl has enough to deal with without a psycho out to get her. If there’s a way to send that bitch to hell without getting Mena involved, then we’ve got to do it. That kid doesn’t deserve to be used.”

  Gabby bowed her head, grateful Nye was on the same page.

  “I have an idea,” she said. “But I have to meditate on it.”

  “Let me know if you need anything,” the spy said, grasping her shoulder. It was as close as he’d come to hugging her, so she took the gesture as a welcome one even though he was glaring at her quite threateningly.

  Without another word, she moved around him and ventured downstairs, stepping out into the garden.

  It still pained her to see the grounds looking like a desolate wasteland, but when she passed the patch of earth she’d been using to teach Ismena how to grow flowers, she smiled. The little plot was filled with daisies, their yellow centers a welcome burst of color among the darkness.

  Standing before Regulus’s olive tree, she stared up at the branches covered in green leaves and olives that were ripe for the picking. When she grew it the night they buried the Roman, she’d ensured it would stand tall and bear fruit for eons, a symbol of the strength the founding vampire had carried with him through the ages. Now the tree bore the symbol of his legacy.

  A soft tugging drew Gabby’s attention downward, and she frowned when she found Ismena beside her. She hadn’t even heard the little witch approach, thinking she was still playing with Tristan in the house.