Genesis (The Legend of Glory Book 3) (3 page)

I only had my learner’s permit, but figured I could avoid trouble. It seemed to me that late on Halloween night the cops likely had more pressing matters than patrolling backcountry roads.

When I made it to the Tucker farm, I left the truck running and found Jesse and his one-year-old sister inside the abandoned house. Huddled near a warm wood stove, he had his arms wrapped protectively around her. Shadows were deep; the only light in the room came through the glass on the front of the stove.

“Jesse?”

When he saw me, he started to cry. “Take Belle before I accidentally hurt her.”

He sat still as an ice sculpture while I took possession of the little girl fancifully named after the infamous western outlaw, Belle Starr.

“I’m as bad as my parents. I put her in just as much danger.” His words weren’t quite as slurred as before—his adrenaline rush was probably as intense as mine.

I helped him to his feet, and he leaned on me as we walked to the truck. When I opened the passenger door, and the interior light splashed on his face, the sight of his left eye swollen shut horrified me.

I gasped and gently touched his face. “Oh, Jesse.”

He shrugged. “Rough night all the way around.”

“Your dad did this? You want me to punch him out for you?”

That brought the hint of a smile. “Thanks, I’d really like that.”

“Come on. Let’s get you two home.”

I guided Jesse into the truck, strapped him in, put Belle Starr in his arms, and drove to the James farm. We parked by the road and hiked up the long, winding driveway to the main house. Seeing that all the lights were out, I breathed a little easier.

Belle Starr, once again in my arms, slept peacefully.

“We can climb in my bedroom window,” Jesse said.

Stealthily, we safely made it into the house. There was a crib in his room where he told me she often slept, so that’s where I tucked her in.

I helped Jesse off with his coat and boots, then tucked him into his own bed and sat by his side.

“Being drunk isn’t as fun as the teenage rebellion brochures advertise,” he said.

“Never done it myself. Don’t think I want to.”

“You’re going to get in trouble for the truck.”

I shook my head. “I’m going to put it back where it belongs and hope that Dad thinks some Halloween pranksters tried to steal it. I’m never going to talk about this again. I’m going to forget how to hotwire a car. I’m going to pretend this never, ever happened.”

He chuckled. “You won’t forget.”

“I’m good at putting painful things out of my mind. That’s how I dealt with my sister’s kidnapping. Someone in the family had to hold it together.”

“Promise me something, Glory.”

I grasped his head between my hands and looked into his good eye. There was so much fear there. So much need. “Anything.”

“Promise me ...
promise
me we’ll always have each other’s backs.”

I smiled. “You have my word. We’ll always take care of each other.”

“Love you, Glory Templeton.”

“Love you too, Jesse James.” I kissed his forehead, his eye slowly closed, and he passed out.

I kicked off Natalie Wood’s black velvet heels and stayed with Jesse and Belle Starr until nearly dawn. Then I sneaked out, returned the truck to where I found it, and pretended the whole thing had never, ever happened.

CHAPTER TWO

Rory

)o(       )o(       )o(

It was Rory’s thirteenth birthday. Per her usual birthday routine, she planned to spend the day in the gardens of her guardian’s sprawling estate in Savannah, Georgia. Wealthy architect and witch, Barry Calhoun, adopted Rory after the demoness Nyx had slain her mother ten years earlier. Rory herself had barely escaped Nyx’s wrath—Starlight, one of the most powerful covens in the country, managed to protect her. However, the attack on Rory’s mother Bridget was unexpected and brutal. Since then, once a year, Bridget’s spirit visited Rory.

Rory didn’t remember much about her mother in life, but in death had come to know her well. Bridget once held the position as Starlight’s official psychic, and Rory had already inherited the job. The extraordinary psychic abilities mother and daughter shared were legendary in supernatural circles.

Rory’s favorite garden on the estate of Haven was the most remote and untended, allowing the ferns, vines, and flowers to grow wild year round. No trees blocked the sun. Shadows always seemed to be chasing Rory, and she took comfort where she could.

At midmorning, she walked to the garden. On the way, she tried to mute her excitement so her mother wouldn’t feel it. For years now, she had been trying to drive Bridget away, into the peace of the Summerland—the witches’ afterlife—and the longer Bridget stayed earthbound, the greater chance of her becoming hopelessly lost in the veil.

Rory’s stomach clenched when she saw her mother’s diaphanous form perched on the marble bench in the center of the garden. As always, the feeling was painful—like an emotional umbilical cord still connected them. Rory’s mother’s energy smothered, intrigued, provoked anxiety, and thrilled her all at the same time. Struggling to breathe, she sat on the bench.

“You look so grown up,” Bridget said in greeting. “You’ve got that same pretty, pouty thing I had at your age. You’re going to drive the boys nuts.”

Rory shrugged. She never fussed with her appearance. She wore her long hair in a casual pile on top of her head, had chosen funky—but admittedly cool—glasses instead of contacts, and she couldn’t remember the last time she dressed in anything other than blue jeans and comfy tops. With all her responsibilities, she couldn’t afford the luxury of vanity.

Bridget’s smile was gentle. “Happy birthday.”

Rory tried not to get sidetracked by pleasantries. She liked to stay on mission. “So, this year are you going to give me the present I always ask for?” Every birthday Rory asked Bridget to reveal her father’s identity, and every birthday Bridget said,

“No.”

Rory’s heart twisted. “Will you at least tell me why? I’m a woman now. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

In the long silence that followed, Rory studied Bridget. She soaked up every detail: the long burgundy hair, pale skin, full lips, striking face. And she was young. So very young.

“He’s a civilian, Rory. I never told him about you because I didn’t want him drawn into the life. No one associated with our lifestyle is safe. He’s a good man and deserves to be happy. I’ve shielded him from your powers, so stop trying to scry for him. It’s a waste of time.”

It was the most her mother had ever revealed, and Rory examined every word. She thought of a dozen questions that desperately needed answers.

“Don’t ask,” Bridget said.

Rory swallowed hard to hold down the bile.

“Isn’t the coven kind to you? Haven’t they raised you well?” Bridget asked.

“It’s not the same as having family.”

“Family’s not the warm fuzzy you imagine. My own disowned me when my gifts grew so strong they freaked out. They had witch
DNA
in their bloodline, but were cowards. I don’t know what I would have done if Barry and the coven hadn’t taken me in.”

Rory dug her nails into her palms to distract from insistent tears. She refused to cry in front of her mother. Never had. Never would. “I don’t know anything about your family either. It’s not fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, kiddo. I figured you would have gotten that by now.”

A traitorous sob escaped Rory. “Yeah, I got it, Momma.”

“Your friend Kaia, she’s your ally isn’t she?” Bridget asked. Kaia was the official psychic of Starlight’s sister coven, Moonstone.

Rory nodded. “She’s the only person I’ve ever met who truly gets me. If there’s anyone on Earth who’s like family to me, it’s her.”

“I was rocked off my cloud to discover you’ve been hanging out with vampires,” Bridget said, “What’s that about?”

Rory cleared her throat. “Just like there are good witches and bad witches, there’re good vamps and bad vamps. My circle now includes some good ones.”

Bridget’s pale blue eyes studied her and Rory felt compelled to elaborate.

“The Caretakers arranged for a vamp named Zane to guard a civilian named Glory whose blood held the cure for last year’s pandemic. His friends, a gang of vamps who call themselves the Goth Girls, helped us with the mission. The girls live here in Savannah, so we’ve gotten close. Zane lives in Texas but visits a lot. Their kind is super passionate and real intense, which has taken some getting used to, but they’re light warriors too. We’re all committed to fighting the good fight.”

“Ah. That girl with the special blood, she lived in this mansion in the nineteenth century, didn’t she? I witnessed something a while back that I don’t understand.”

Rory sighed. “Glory traveled through time and became Hope, who was born and raised in this house, which is so far beyond coincidence it’s whackloads of crazy. Been trying to see how all the twisted paths come together, but I keep getting lost in the labyrinth.”

“When you watch temporal reality unfold from this side of the veil you see lots of threads,” Bridget said. “They weave through time and space and bodies and souls and the tapestries are incredibly complex. Some are magnificent. Others are terrifying. There are lots of very bad tapestries being woven right now, Rory. You need to prepare yourself.”

“For what?”

“You know. You’ve seen.”

Yes, Rory knew. She saw awful things coming, but hoped that maybe this time her visions were wrong.

Bridget said, “There are so many opposing forces lining up to do battle. Dark witches and witch hunters against good witches, vampires against vampires, demons against angels, evil scientists against the ones working for the light. World religions at war. Terrible, awful wars.”

Rory struggled to think of something unkind to say. Something mean to drive her mother away and into the Summerland where she belonged. Something to get Bridget out of harm’s way before the veil ripped apart in the coming battles. “All the witches I know have cool magical guides: panthers, or bears, or shamans. Why am I saddled with a dead witch who’s too much of a dumbass to find her way into the light?”

“You sure are a sassy one. I should wash out your mouth with ectoplasm.”

Rory hated it when her mother didn’t take her seriously. “I don’t want to see you anymore. You need to move on now.”

“I’ll wait a while longer, and we can make the journey together,” Bridget said. “If what I see for your future is correct, you’ll be joining me before winter is over.”

Rory’s gut clenched in fear, but she refused to surrender to weakness. The first question that came to mind was how she would die, but she decided to ask the other one that might be more to the point. “Do you really come here every year, or are you a recurring dissociative event based on my cracked and neurotic psyche?”

Bridget shrugged. “Both?”

“That’s what I thought.” Which then begged the question, “How will I die?”

“Beware of Nyx,” Bridget said. “Your dance with her isn’t over.”

Nyx, their great nemesis. “Why did she come after us before?”

“Because I saw!” Bridget’s emotional outburst almost dissipated her form, and she made an obvious effort to hold herself together. “I saw,” she repeated more calmly. “And you grew up to see the same visions of what’s to come. That makes us dangerous to the dark side.”

“And Nyx killed Kaia’s parents because?”

“Because they were powerful demon hunters. After Nyx killed me, they vowed to vanquish her.”

Bridget grew pensive, then she whispered as if fearful someone might overhear, “And something’s gone wrong with the Earth. She’s sick. She’s dying. Don’t you feel it?”

Alarm shot through Rory. “I’ve felt the big bad with Her energy, but I didn’t know what it meant.” Shame rose. Rory’s greatest fear was not seeing things clearly. Psychic sight was the special gift bestowed upon Rory by her supreme deity, the Goddess. If clarity failed ... well what value would she have anymore? Who would need her? Who would want her? “What have I missed, Momma?”

A flash of lightning split the clear blue and struck the earth a few feet from where they sat. Rory flew backward and slammed up against the statue of Morrigan, the Celtic goddess of war. Her shaken brain swam in fireflies for a few moments until her vision cleared enough to see that her mother’s translucent form had blown to the opposite side of the garden. Between them, thick fog formed, entirely blotting out the sun and sky. Within the mist, a glorious woman garbed in a rainbow of shimmering colors manifested.

Rory blinked, and managed to get to her feet using Morrigan’s marble sword for leverage.

The apparition said, “I am Gaia, I am indeed dying, and you Rory are the one who must save me.” Her voice held an unusual timber—deep and powerful.

Rory glanced past her to Bridget.

Her mother shook her head. “Beware of false visions.”

Gaia gave Bridget a haughty glance. “My dear, who here is the false vision?”

“You are not the Earth Goddess,” Bridget said.

“You’re the one who’s not real.” She turned to Rory. “You know that you manifest your mother out of an abundance of need. And right now she’s giving voice to your skepticism, but I
am
Gaia, and I’ve come to ask for your help.”

Slowly, Rory circled her. Bridget matched her pace as she, too, circled.

Rory struggled to collect herself.
I must always see clearly
. “What’s wrong with you and why do you need my help?”

“Your inner voice has spoken to you for a while about the weakening of my energy,” Gaia said. “In your visions you’ve seen the growing force of evil witches. Witches originally evolved from my body to care for me, and that mission’s been perverted by those who have gone darkside. You need to stop them before they push me to the point of no return.”

“It’s not just those witches who are harming the Mother,” Bridget said. “The more powerful threats are the New World Order scientists working in concert with demons.”

Gaia’s eyes flashed light. “Do not listen to this pathetic specter. How could either scientists or demons truly harm me? They don’t know my secrets. Witches know my secrets and are using them against me.”

Rory tried to make sense of everything thrown at her. “Why would witches—why would anyone—want to harm you?”

Gaia sighed. “Why do human spirits become demons? Why do angels fall? Rebellion, power, seduction. So it is with witches.”

Rory continued to circle the Mother as she fought to center herself. “Why me? Why do you need my help?”

“Puberty has awakened many latent powers in you,” Gaia said. “Of all the witches who serve me, you’re the one best suited to cut off the snake’s head. You are perfectly positioned to do so.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Kaia Moonstone-Killian is the traitor in your midst, the one destined to lead the witch army against me. You must stop her.”

Thick fog choked the breath out of Rory. “Not Kaia,” she finally managed to spit out. “Not my Kaia.”

“This thing is lying,” Bridget said.

Gaia cocked her luminescent head. “Who was possessed by a fallen angel during the last summer solstice? Who worked to thwart the cure for the pandemic?”

Rory’s heart hammered. “But ... you just said it. She was possessed. She eventually fought Micah off.”

“Don’t you think being possessed by such a powerful evil force would leave its mark?”

Rory shook her head. “Kaia is good. She’s the best.”
She’s like my sister
.

“Don’t you know about her dark lineage?” Gaia asked. “She’s descended from the blackest of witches, through her mother.”

Startled, Rory looked at Bridget.

After a moment Bridget said, “That part is true, but Kaia doesn’t know about them. Kaia’s coven and her magical guardian, White Bear, shielded Kaia from that heritage. That’s why the coven raised her in the mountains, away from their influence.”

Gaia’s resonant voice said, “Blood will tell. That’s why she was susceptible to the fallen angel in the first place.”

No, no, no. Not my Kaia
.

“You’re right, Rory. Not your Kaia,” Bridget said. “This ... thing ... is a deceiver. This apparition is false.”

“You have to kill Kaia before she can kill me,” Gaia said.