Legacy & Spellbound (21 page)

Peter felt a little chill; he didn't know why. He said, “I'm here, Ginny.”

“I know. Oh, and now he's smiling at everyone.”

“Please, friends!” boomed a voice. “Esteemed and illustrious gentlemen! Please have a seat so that all may see our most amazing presentation! My companions and I have traveled the length and breadth of this great land, and we have seen many remarkable sights, some of which we will present to you this very night!”

Everyone settled back onto their seats at the trestle table, affording Peter a look at Deveroo as the man stood up on the buckboard of his wagon. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black suit of clothes with a black waistcoat and a white shirt. He wore a top hat, which he doffed, and his curly hair brushed his shoulders. He wore a drooping mustache … and indeed, his eyes were very black. Peter had never seen the like in his entire life.

The wagon itself was decorated with faces of a strange man made of leaves. The grotesque faces were strangely contorted, appearing rather evil, and Peter wasn't certain that this “fine entertainment” would
prove to be something his daughter should see.

The other wagon was painted with wild swirls of green and red, in no discernible pattern. A very muscular bald man dressed in a leopard skin held the reins, which he put down with a flourish, rose, and picked up a concertina, which he began to play. The squeeze box looked like a toy in contrast with his massive stature.

Two ladies in elaborate golden dresses appeared from the back of the same wagon, lightly tripping down a set of wooden stairs until they alighted on the earth. They began to dance, and Ginny caught her breath, enchanted.

After their dance was concluded, the man in the leopard skin performed many amazing feats of strength, including hoisting two miners seated in chairs over his head. He bent a man's shovel and twisted a bar of steel into a knot.

“Sandor the Strong Man drinks three tablespoons of my patented life elixir every morning, noon, and night!” Dr. Deveroo proclaimed. “Such a bottle can be yours for only one paltry dollar!”

“Papa, you should buy some,” Ginny told her father.

“Perhaps another time. A dollar is a lot of money,” Peter told her.

Many of the miners did purchase bottles, and
some proceeded to begin their three-tablespoon regimen immediately upon receipt.

“And now, watch, my friends, as I amaze and astonish you with feats of magic!” Dr. Deveroo exclaimed.

He clapped his hands and snapped his fingers, then flicked them three times. Flames formed along his fingertips, outlining his hands with fire.

The crowd gasped.

Then he raised his hands above his head and waved them, and the flames extended upward, shooting into the sky.

Peter blinked, astonished. Ginny sucked in her breath again and said, “Papa, how did he do that?”

The flames extinguished, and the man bowed at the audience as the miners broke into wild applause. Then he extended his hands toward the two beautiful ladies, who twirled and curtsied, both smiling so prettily at him.

Slowly, the two rose into the air, still twirling, until they hung high above the wagons, bobbing like golden butterflies.

The crowd fell silent, each man thunderstruck.

“It's wires,” Peter murmured.

Ginny leaned down to hear him. “Not magic, Papa?”

“Of course not.” But his voice was shaky, as if he didn't believe what he was saying.

Slowly the ladies floated toward the ground. The men began to applaud, then to hoot and holler. They stamped their feet. They whistled.

“Gentlemen, I thank you!” Dr. Deveroo said, sweeping off his top hat and laying it over his chest. “Now, please lend me your ears as I tell you of the wonders of my patented elixir, which will cure all your ailments like magic. But science is at work here, my friends, not pixies and elves! Science, which paves the new frontier with wonders like my Patented Elixir of Life!”

One of the two women glided toward him carrying a green glass bottle topped with a cork. She handed it to Dr. Deveroo as if it were a precious gem.

He pulled the cork off the top and put the bottle to his lips. “This will make you stronger than ten men! It'll put hair on your head and a shine in your eye!”

He took a gulp of the liquid. Then he reached forward and put his hand around the woman's waist. As the crowd watched, he easily lifted her up and held her above his head while he took another swallow of the elixir.

“Yes, gentlemen!” he cried. “Dr. Deveroo's Patented Elixir of Life will fill you with life!”

He put the lady down and jumped off his wagon. Then he made a show of walking to the back of it. He put both his hands beneath the end of it, squatted, and lifted it up off the ground.

“Papa,” Ginny breathed. “Papa, how can it be?”

Peter guffawed. “It's all tricks,” he said uncertainly.

“Take me off your shoulders,” she begged. “I don't want him to see me.”

“There's nothing to be afraid of, Ginny,” he assured her.

She hesitated, and then she said, “Papa, he's so strong, he could make the dam break.”

“Oh, Ginny,” Peter said softly. “Oh, my girl.”

Then Dr. Deveroo's gazed swiveled toward her. He gazed directly at her; she felt his dark stare as if it were a slap across her cheek. His eyes narrowed, and his heavy brows met above his nose. He looked like a devil just waiting to grab her and eat her up.

She clung to her father and wailed, “Papa, get me out of here!”

Heads turned in their direction; a few men smirked, amused by the little girl's terror as if they, rational men all, had not gaped in silence at the astonishing feats of prestidigitation of Dr. Deveroo mere seconds before.

“Relax, girlie, it's just for show,” a well-meaning man ventured. He was gray and leathery and had no teeth. He reached out a hand and patted Ginny's leg, and she writhed as if she had been burned.

“Papa, please, Papa.” She scrambled to the ground, landing hard, and raced into the crowd of men.

“Ginny!” Peter shouted after her. He broke into a run, muttering, “Excuse me, 'scuse me, please, pardon,” as he eased men out of his path. “Ginny!”

How could he have lost her so quickly? But no one could tell him where she had gone. He looked everywhere, all over the camp; and as the show went on and most of the miners lined up to purchase a bottle or two of Dr. Deveroo's elixir, Peter became more and more frantic.

“Might I help?” Deveroo asked finally, once the last bottle had been sold and the ladies had disappeared back inside their wagon. The man in the leopard skin sat on the buckboard, wolfing down some beef stew.

“I've looked everywhere,” Peter confessed, wiping his face.

Then he looked into the eyes of the man. Peter's lips parted; he felt dizzy all over. Not just dizzy, but rather ill. The man's eyes … they were completely black. There was no color to them. And if one gazed
into them long enough … one would … would …

Peter shook himself. He tipped his hat and said brusquely, “Thank you, sir, but this is a family matter. I'll find my girl myself.”

Dr. Deveroo inclined his head like a king. He said, “As you wish, Mr… . ?”

And to his dying day, Peter had no idea why he said, “Cavendish. Martin Cavendish.”

“Cavendish,” Deveroo said slowly. “Nice to make your acquaintance, sir.” Deveroo doffed his hat once more. “Well, if I may be of service, please don't hesitate to call on me. My troupe and I will be camping not far from here.”

“Thank you kindly, sir.” Peter inclined his head and moved away. He was uneasy in his skin; he could barely stand to look at the man, though he had no idea why. He turned his back and quickly strode away.

Ginny. She's hiding in our wagon.

Suddenly he knew it as certainly as he knew that she was right to be afraid of Deveroo.

Something is amiss here. We are in danger.

Without another look back, he hurried to the wagon, got in, and picked up the reins. Luckily he had not unharnassed the horses. He called over his shoulder, “Ginny? You in there?”

“Papa, ssh,” she hissed back. “He'll hear you!”

“It's all right, girl. We're getting out of here.”

He flicked the reins, and the horses began to move. As they galloped away from the encampment, he saw Deveroo in the process of climbing into his own wagon. The man took off his hat and stared after Peter's wagon; in the darkness, Peter could not see his face, but he imagined him fiercely glaring at him. A shiver ran up Peter's spine; he didn't know why. But he flicked his reins and called, “Hee-yah!” to the horses, and they escaped into the night.

And I'm not stopping until we get to Seattle.

Dr. Deveroo, whose name was actually Paul Deveraux, narrowed his eyes as the Cavendish wagon raced down the trail. Silhouetted by the black night, its plain wooden sides illuminated by stars, it carried interesting cargo: a man and his little girl tetched with witchblood. He could feel it on them, practically smell it on the girl.

Cavendish,
he thought.
That's a name I'll have to remember.

In the ensuing months he traveled the land, performing his magic and selling his elixir. In San Francisco, he received a letter from friends within the Supreme Coven, loyal to the House of Deveraux and eager to dethrone the Moores. The Moores were still running things, still boasting how they could use the
Nightmare Dreamtime that old Sir Richard Moore had learned about down in Van Diemen's Land to get rid of their enemies.

What the Moores did not realize was that through their friends, the Deveraux now possessed the secret of the Nightmare Dreamtime as well.

All we need is the Black Fire, and we'll be on the throne again,
Paul Deveraux reminded himself as he read the letter by the light of a campfire.

His confederate, one Edward Monroe, wrote:
We have heard stories of a medicine man in the timberland, who claims to know how to conjure something his people call the Dark Cloud Fire. Perhaps this might prove of interest. The place is called Seattle.”

“Seattle,” Paul Deveraux mused. “Sounds interesting.”

From earth we are, to earth we go
And so the cycle will always flow
Shine upon us, Great Horned God
Let us dominate this land we trod

Goddess, hear us as we pray
Wash the past clean away
Renew us now and give new birth
To family coven, hope and mirth

Holly was tired, and her nerves were stretched thin. Leaving San Francisco had been hard, in some ways harder than it had been when she had first left a year ago. Back home on the Bay she had felt an intense sense of safety. She knew that it was illusory, but when she closed her eyes it was impossible not to believe that the last year had been a bad dream.

That was gone, though, left behind with her house, the hum of the city, and the fog that blanketed it all like a thick curtain that separated it from the rest
of the world. Now, together with Tante Cecile and Dan, she was trying to smuggle Barbara Davis-Chin and Uncle Richard back into Seattle.

Didn't we just get him out of this place?
she thought about her uncle.

But Uncle Richard had changed; he was in a far better place than she had ever seen him before. He was strong, and though afraid, not afraid to face whatever came his way.

The same could not be said for Barbara. The doctors had only protested weakly when Holly had decided to move Barbara. The truth was that she had been in a coma for over a year and they had no idea what to do to help her.

It was dangerous to return to Seattle, but it was time for the Tri-Covenate to prove its worth. They were stronger together than separate. At least, Holly hoped so. With James and Eli teamed up with Michael, they were going to have to be.

It wasn't far now, maybe ten minutes. Holly willed Dan to drive faster but knew that if he did he would only draw more attention both from the mundane and the magically inclined.

Nothing seemed changed in Seattle since she had managed to leave.
Escape was more like it,
she thought, reliving the violence she had seen in the airport. The
city was still under siege. Michael Deveraux had thrown down the glove, and it was up to her to meet the challenge.

First things first, though.
She had to make sure her coven was safe and she had to find a way to heal Barbara.

She glanced out the window fearfully, looking for falcons. The clouds hung heavy in the sky, dark and lowering, gathering strength for another deluge. There was no sign of birds of any kind. Beside her, Tante Cecile was murmuring low incantations to stabilize Barbara. Richard was watching the landscape intently.

Holly began murmuring her own spells, wards to strengthen those already surrounding them, wards to make them invisible to all. Suddenly something like a cold wind rushed through her mind.
Michael!
She knew it with all her being. He was alerted, knew that she was coming! She gasped as fear crushed her heart. A lone bird appeared in the sky, wheeling slowly lower, ever closer to the car.