The Shadow's Son (The Witch Hunter Saga) Read online

  Alisandra came to a halt in front of a door that had been set into the wall of the tunnel and opened it. Inside it looked like a industrial fuse box, all wires and pipes. Across the front yellow and black tape had been crisscrossed to warn people not to tamper with it. The witch looked back at her and smiled, then stepped through the doorway and disappeared, leaving a rippling image behind her. Of course. The Coven was smart enough to mask their sanctuary further and tightly enough that even she couldn't sense it.

  Aya followed the Matriarch through the ward and came into another well lit passageway. Here it felt more lived in and homely, a number of doors were spotted along the corridor and irregular intervals.

  "Welcome to our sanctuary," Alisandra said. "Granted, it's not much to look at, but it's safe and it's home."

  So far, Aya had only uttered one word to the witch and her only response this time was to raise an eyebrow.

  "Come," the Matriarch beckoned. "My chamber is not far."

  Chamber? More like storage closet, Aya thought to herself.

  Alisandra's room was decorated with rugs and paintings and was less like a storage closet that Aya had anticipated. Despite the lack of a window, it was warm and inviting. The tools of a witch lay on an altar to one side, a silver bowl, dagger and assorted herbs and the back section was divided with a Japanese style folding screen, covered with cream rice paper. She supposed this was where she slept.

  Aya was offered a chair to sit on opposite the Matriarch, who folded her hands in her lap like a seventeenth century lady.

  "I could tell you everything from the beginning, but I'm sure you have some specific questions that you would like to ask. Perhaps that would be easier? Ask me what you will."

  "I am led to believe that you and I share the same blood."

  "Yes, that is correct."

  "How?"

  "I think this might be better explained if I tell you the history of our beginnings."

  "I have time," Aya said carefully.

  "In the beginning," Alisandra, began with a laugh, "the first witch was created from a Celestine woman named Aoife. She took a human woman and created our Coven."

  "Aoife?" Aya asked slowly.

  "In the stories, Aoife was a member of the Tuatha de Dann royal family. She was a fae, sent to marry the king, Lir, for an alliance, but she was truly a Celestine. Her marriage was to help put an end to the feud between the Tuatha and the Celestines, but she didn't want any part of it. She was one we call the Betrayer. She created the first witch from her own blood and from that first witch the Coven was born."

  The Tyrant King and the Betrayer. Lir and Aoife? Aya shook her head. "You are saying that there was a witch before the Five?"

  "You see, Aeriaya, we are descended from the Original Witch. Purely separate from your five. We have existed for a full thousand years before you were even born."

  For once in her life, Aya was truly driven to silence. The things that Alisandra had said rung true. Even she knew about the feud between her kind and the Tuatha; it was a part of their history that was long dead. But, this? This was new.

  The difference between the Five Founding Witches her family had created and Aoife's Original Witch? Aya's family had held back that part of themselves that would have given them conduit into a realm of power that was too great for a human mind to comprehend. This Original Witch, whoever she had been, she would have been driven to insanity by the things Aoife's blood would have conjured.

  Aya tried to sense Alisandra's emotions but couldn't feel any emanations from her. It was a strange sensation, she could tell something was missing, but couldn't quite place her finger on it. The witch had either blocked her from using her ability or she didn't have any emotions whatsoever.

  "I know the history," Aya said cautiously. "But not of what you speak."

  "No, you wouldn't," Alisandra shook her head. "That kind of betrayal would have sunk deep, wouldn't it? I can imagine your leaders would have wanted to keep that a secret."

  "If the story is true, then why would Aoife want to create a witch? That's the part I don't understand."

  "That's the great mystery. As with all things, time erodes memory and what was once important becomes lost."

  If there was any truth in this story, then the Matriarch was referencing a time that was over three thousand years ago. For a coven who prided themselves in their heritage and pure blood, they sure forgot a lot of important information. Aya was positive she wasn't getting the entire truth, but she couldn't just compel the entire circle, that was impossible. Neither could she force it from them. No, this was a game of wits the witches were playing with her. A dangerous game.

  "There has been a lot of talk about something that your coven is hiding," Aya asked tentatively, measuring Alisandra's reaction carefully.

  "Dear, there is a lot of talk about what we do. Not all of it is true. Much of this talk is malicious slander from those who seemingly oppose us. But I assure you, Aeriaya, we don't oppose anyone. We do not want enemies. That's not why we continue to exist."

  "Then why do you?"

  "Because we are tasked with keeping the balance of course," she said like she was asking the most absurd question she'd ever heard.

  Aya snorted at the blatant dodging of her question. They were hiding something and they didn't want her to find out what it was.

  "We have been searching for a way forward for centuries," the Matriarch continued. "Some time ago, our order was splintered and in chaos. No one seemed fit to follow the old ways anymore. Some of us turned to evil and the result was less than pleasant. It took a long time to bring the Coven back to its former glory. For that, the circle of the time had to search out our history and rediscover our true heritage."

  "And how did they do that?" Aya asked, not liking where this story was leading.

  "They had to go back to a place of power and find a sign."

  It was then Aya knew that the coven had been to her home. They had been able to enter the clearing. They had Celestine blood and that was the only prerequisite. What had they taken?

  "You've been to my home?" she snarled, rising to her feet.

  "No one alive," Alisandra said, holding up a hand. "Almost a thousand years ago, the highest in our Coven went to your ancestral home. There they hoped to find a sign, anything to help point us in the right direction. To help us find our true calling."

  Aya eyes her suspiciously, not liking what she was hearing. "And what did they find?"

  "Bones hanging from the trees, bones in the house. And fields upon fields of white flowers."

  Of course. No one had been there since she had left the night they were killed. Bones. Her family and friends had been reduced to bones.

  And the flowers. They were one of her strongest memories from her life before. The white flower that had grown so abundantly around the house. She remembered taking long walks through the forest, the bright green moss that coated the trees, the grass and the flowers. On warm summer days the sun would coax the little field she liked to sit in to come alive with the small white blooms, their yellow centers bright and happy. Often, she would gather as many as she could carry, knowing that they were a favorite of her Mother.

  "Aeriaya, I want to offer you a gift. I understand that with your affliction," she gestured to her, "it doesn't allow for true death."

  Aya was violently snapped out of her reverie. They knew how she could die. Truly die.

  "How?" she asked, trying not to sound desperate.

  "The circle of the time soon found that the flower was a poison to one not truly Celestine. To those of us that had become infected with vampirism, it delivered them to a true death."

  Aya almost didn't dare to ask the question, already suspecting the answer. "How did they discover this?"

  "They experimented on their own. Barbaric, I know and I do not condone what they did in the name of the Coven." The Matriarch smiled sadly.

  "How did they do it?"

  "At first, they made them ingest the
flower. Later, they added it to blood and when the vampires fed, it entered their bloodstream. Then the flowers were dried and crushed into a fine powder and the tips of weapons were dipped into it."

  It seemed these so called experiments had gone on for some time.

  Alisandra was watching her absorb this information carefully. "I know that one day you want to die," she said. "Being truly immortal must take its toll on a creature such as yourself. Being taken from your true calling and turned into something dark. Becoming something inherent with evil. The Celestines were pure and good and cared for life deeply. I cannot imagine the things you have been through, Aeriaya. I truly cannot. But know this, if you want to end your suffering, end the torment. You can come to us. Our door is always open to you. After all, you are the one remaining link to an extinct race. Your blood is ours."

  After all that time she'd spent tying to end herself, the solution had been staring her in the face from birth. If she had of had the stomach to go home, would she have worked it out? Would she have ended it there and then and spared herself two thousand years of suffering? There was no way of knowing for sure now.

  What worried her was Alisandra. She was hiding something from her, that much was obvious by the way she had dodged her questions by making out they were lies. And now she was encouraging her to commit suicide? Did the witch really believe that she would do that? Aya had to admit to herself that she had been tempted, how could she not? She'd said it to Zac, one day she wanted to return to the earth, but it would be on her own terns, not the Coven's. Now, there was the option, but it also meant that if the Coven wished it, they wouldn't hesitate in taking her out if she became a threat. This game just became even more deadly that she could imagine. And she had to keep playing it if she wanted to walk out of the sanctuary alive.

  What was the Coven trying to wake? Everything Alisandra had said pointed to the Original Witch. If she could sleep for a hundred and fifty years, it stood to reason that a human witch made with Celestine blood could do the same. It was those parts of herself that allowed her to do as much.

  "I have dedicated my existence to fighting those that abuse their gift," Aya said carefully. "So you must understand that this is a decision that I must consider carefully."

  "I understand," the witch nodded.

  "I must deal with the remaining Roman vampires. This is my task and once it's done..."

  "Of course. We seek to bring an end to the Romans as well. If you require our assistance, all you have to do is ask."

  "Thank you," Aya said carefully. Did they know that Regulus was the last? It seemed by her statement, that they did not and she wouldn't be the one to correct them.

  "When you are ready," Alisandra said with a gentle smile. "Come to me and I will hear you. Whatever you decide, we will be here to help you."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  After leaving the sanctuary, Aya walked for miles across London, mulling over everything that Alisandra had told her, trying to sort the truth from the lies. There was no doubt in her mind that the Coven was up to something and that something was not good. She thought the Matriarch was aloof, secretive and vague about almost everything. The only thing she was clear about was the fact that she thought it was the best thing for everyone if she took her own life.

  The moment Aya went back there and told her she wasn't interested in dying any time soon was the moment they would do the job for her. She wasn't afraid of her true death. She was only afraid of it coming before she was ready.

  What she needed to do soon was to meet with Joseph, find out what had happened to Coraline and try and get more information out of him. Someone had to know something about the Original Witch. If that's who the Coven were trying to wake, then someone must know where she was sleeping.

  And what the hell was she going to do once she found out? Aya didn't have a clue, but something had to be done. The Original Witch would be insane at best. And an insane witch only meant trouble in capital letters. No wonder that little rag tag group of witches had gone to so much trouble to find her.

  It was still early morning when Aya finally returned to the hotel to put Tristan out of his misery. As she walked through the door, she saw him sitting in the same chair as if he hadn't moved since she'd left. His head snapped up and his expression relaxed into one of relief.

  "Arrow," he shot across the room and took her in his arms.

  "Have you been sitting there this whole time?" she asked, shrugging him off awkwardly.

  "No," he said slyly.

  "Liar."

  "What happened?"

  "I met with the Matriarch of the Coven. Seemed they were expecting me."

  "Someone betrayed you."

  "I don't think so. Witches are a crafty bunch. They probably sensed me walking through their front door."

  "What did they have to say for themselves? Are they like you?"

  "Yes, it would seem so," she sat on the edge of the bed. "Some fairly outrageous claims were made. Some of which I'm not even sure are true. They claimed to be descended from a witch that was created a full thousand years before the Five."

  "What?" Tristan exclaimed. "How is that even possible?"

  "It's entirely possible. We all had the ability. This witch was said to have been made with Celestine blood."

  "So that's why Zac's blood is so potent to you? Victoria was part Celestine?"

  "Yes."

  "That's insane."

  Aya snorted. "They are insane, if that's what you're asking. The Matriarch is hiding something. She dodged any questions I asked about what they were doing. And she said she knew how I could truly die and proceeded to tell me how I should end myself sooner rather than later."

  "Arrow," Tristan pulled her into his side, an arm around her waist. "No."

  "I do want to die some day, Tristan. Now, I know how."

  "You can't be serious," Tristan exclaimed.

  "I want to have the option," she said, calmly. "One day, I want to pass on. Is that such a bad thing to want?"

  "But the Coven are encouraging you to take your own life, today."

  "I know."

  "They're manipulating you."

  "Tristan," she sighed, laying a hand over his. "I know exactly what they're trying to pull. If I didn't play along, I wouldn't have left there alive. They're threatened by me and what I represent."

  "They think you can stop this weapon they're tryin' to resurrect?"

  "Yes. Though, the deeper we get into this, the more I think it's who, not what."

  Tristan frowned. "Who do you think it is? I mean, if it's a who."

  "Alisandra kept speaking of the witch that the Celestine, Aoife created. She had a lot to say about that and it was too much for me not to think they believe it's her."

  "They're tryin' to awaken the first witch ever created?"

  "I think so," she said, leaning forward. "Tristan, this witch is nothing like the five my family created. They never passed on their blood in the same way Aoife did. It's too much for a human."

  "That's why they're mentally unstable? They can't handle Celestine blood?"

  "That and they've kept their bloodline so constricted they've forgotten about a thing called the gene pool."

  Tristan shook his head, looking conflicted.

  "I'm not sure, but everything points to it," she shrugged. "The one thing I do know is that I have to go back there and at least try and convince them to reconsider."

  "And what if they don't?"

  "Then..." she shrugged.

  "You'll kill them."

  Aya nodded, "Before they kill me." Usually she wouldn't be worried about that, but this time was different.

  "But, you'll come back… unless..."

  "Probably," she shrugged. "Tristan, we've been in trouble before, but this trumps everything. I've asked you once already, now I'm asking if you're entirely sure. This has the potential to become very messy and I can't guarantee that you'll come out alive at the other end."

  "You're givin' me a
n out?"

  "I'm giving you an out. I won't blame you if you want to take it. I'll understand."

  "Arrow, this is the second time since we got here that you've told me this and I'm still here."

  "Okay. But don't blame me when you wish you had of."

  The knight shook his head, changing the subject. "Do you really think they'll listen to you?"

  "Maybe, maybe not, but there's only one way to find out."

  "I'm goin' with you this time."

  "They'll kill you on the spot."

  "Not if you're there."

  "Tristan…" she began to scold him, but he interrupted with such passion, she faltered.

  "I won't stay here in this god damn hotel room while you go out there and fight a bunch of insane witches. You can't do everything on your own. Stop god damn pushin' me away. You said it yourself. They know how to kill you for good. I won't let it happen. Let me help you."

  Aya laughed at his sudden outburst.

  "God damn, Arrow. You can be so annoyin', you know that?"

  "It's my mission in life," she smirked.

  It had been six hundred and sixty years since she'd let someone help her and that person had been Tristan. It was a long time to develop a liking for solitary witch hunting. Zac, Sam and the others… that had been more like them working for her.

  "I am worried about Coraline, though," Aya frowned. "After all of that, if she was picked up by the Six or the Coven, she'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble."

  "Do you have any idea how we could contact Joseph?"

  She shook her head. "I'm sure when someone finally misses her, they'll come running. I want to deal with the Coven first. If she's there, then it'll be two birds with one stone."

  Tristan didn't look happy about it, but he asked, "When do you want to go?"

  "Tonight."

  "They hide their door in a brick wall?" Tristan exclaimed when they stood on the darkened alley hidden in the shadow of the British Museum.

  "Yes," Aya said, raising an eyebrow. Placing a hand on the wall where she knew the door to be, the air shifted and the glamour fell. Opening the door, she looked back at the knight who was watching her uncertainly. "Are you coming or are you just going to stand there?"