Promises to Keep

chapter 10


JAY DIDN’T WANT to get himself sold into slavery over this. On the other hand, since the proponents of the slave trade were in Kendra’s house for the party, they wouldn’t be in the woods, would they?

And what did the vampires have to hide that was important enough and powerful enough that it was concealed with a spell that Jay couldn’t even begin to discern?

Just one thing: Midnight.

The first version of Midnight’s empire had been founded in the sixteen hundreds, around the time when Jay’s line had come into existence. The vampires had effectively ruled the supernatural world through a combination of trade sanctions, economic incentives, and an iron threat to back up their laws. Despite protections given to nonhumans, many of the witches were killed. The Light line was eradicated entirely, and the Arun and Vida lines, both of which were exclusively hunters, were cut down to a bare handful of survivors.

When the original Midnight had burned to the ground in 1804, there had been celebrations throughout the world. Unfortunately, though destroying its base of operations had weakened the empire sufficiently for other groups to regain control, the hunters at the time had not been able to eliminate the vampires themselves. Whispers of Midnight’s return had become increasingly common lately.

The original Midnight had been out west, beyond the area claimed at that time by the newborn United States, in the no-man’s-land where white men had not yet established dominion. Could the new one really have its heart here, arrogantly close not only to human civilization but to the headquarters of so many of Midnight’s most serious enemies? Most of Jay’s extended family, including almost all the vampire-hunting witches he knew, lived in New England. The Bruja guilds—a trio of mercenary groups that reputedly had originally been founded specifically to oppose Midnight—had their guild halls in Massachusetts and New York. Jay couldn’t help but feel that such placement was meant to be a deliberate slap in the face.

If Midnight was here, Jay needed to know. If he was right, this would give hunters a chance to bring the empire to its knees before it could get back on its feet. He just needed information, and then he could contact his allies and begin to plan the hunt of a lifetime.

He changed clothes quickly in the backseat of his car and then went hiking behind Kendra’s home, which bordered the same unnaturally quiet forest he had explored behind Xeke’s apartment. Jay might not have been able to sense the magic directly, but the animals could.

Could the shapeshifter at SingleEarth have been damaged by this magic? She had an ominous forest in her mind, choking her mentally and keeping her a prisoner in her own brain. Could the menacing force Jay had sensed from her be Midnight?

He held his shields a little tighter. It would make it harder for him to sense magic, but he hadn’t been able to do that yet anyway. He needed to make sure he was as protected as he could be.

He could feel the forest’s heart. Most woods, especially older ones, had some sense of their center, but this was a young forest, easily impressionable; if it had a heart, it was probably one that had been thrust upon it magically, not one that had grown there organically.

Jay headed toward that pulse, keeping an eye—literally and magically—on the ebb and flow of the trees, underbrush, and snow. Magic’s presence changed how natural things grew. The magic around this place might have been intended to hide something, so those who stumbled across it couldn’t find their way back, but that power could also serve as a beacon.

And there it was—that high wrought-iron fence with the metal ravens at the top. Beyond, he could see stables and gardens. Following the fence brought him around to the front of the property, where a narrow road made a path like an arrow straight to the front door of a sprawling structure that seemed to be the spawn of a manor house and a medieval castle.

He sensed the guards at the front in time to avoid their notice, and stayed far enough away that he knew he wouldn’t be seen from the road.

If Jay followed the road back, out of the forest, he would be able to determine where it intersected with a main road. He would know exactly where he was. He knew many hunters—some witches, some not—who would be interested in such information.

He kept parallel to the road from a safe distance away, trekking through the thick, snowy underbrush and checking back occasionally to make sure he was on course.

That was the theory, anyway, and it should have worked.

He had walked for about an hour, with the road always on his left, but suddenly he was facing the black gates of Midnight once again.

Impossible—except in the presence of a powerful spell, capable of disorienting him and rearranging his memories.

Time to pull out the big guns.

Jay Marinitch wasn’t an average witch. In polite circles, he was considered a prodigy. Those less concerned with being polite referred to him as the idiot savant of his line. He had never met a power he couldn’t match, and he wasn’t about to start now.

He sat in the snow and drew his magic up around him. The Marinitch line’s power was organic. He could read and speak to the trees and animals. He could feel the pulse and flow of natural power the way other people felt wind or water.

He focused his magic until he was able to feel every tree around him, and where he was in relation to every stone and every hibernating squirrel. He let himself flow into that power like a leaf on the wind, dissolving himself in it. If this other magic insisted on being invisible and subtly twisting his mind, he would give it no mind to focus on. He would make himself into nothing it could touch.

First, he explored. There were dozens of living people inside the building, and a couple of nonliving ones. The horses were happy, as was the large feline living inside … though she was restless as well.

Next, he touched the power that had been influencing him. It was hot and utterly nonnatural, and so not normally part of his own sphere of awareness. It twined into the land, twisting it.

He could prod his body into moving where he needed it to without really belonging to it, so he pushed it toward the boundary of the circle of power. He moved through the forest like the night, like shadow or a winter wind, without disturbing or being disturbed by the natural flow of energy through the forest.

He slid under the foreign power, around it, past it. He was a crafty little mouse, swift and agile but too small to be obtrusive.

Once finally outside the spell’s radius, he sensed the difference like a pressure change. His ears popped as he returned fully to his body and stretched, reminding himself of the limiting confines of his flesh, bone, and muscle. He reminded himself of his human origin, and shook off the chill of the unnatural power in the forest that … that …

He leaned against the tree.

Midnight.

He had to hold on to that thought.

He knew what was inside the forest now.

But how was he going to get home?

First, he pressed a palm to one of the larger trees near the driveway to Midnight. The path itself was barely wide enough for two cars to pass, and was not marked in any way, so it was only by remembering the trees near it that he would later be able to recall where it was.

Since he didn’t know where he was, there was no point in calling anyone to pick him up, so he started down the road in search of the nearest town.

Less than an hour later, he reached his goal. The town was dark and most of the stores were closed, but the old-fashioned stone monument in the town’s center welcomed him to Pyridge, established 1612. The plaque beneath it spoke of a small town founded by a group that had suffered disagreements with their neighbors and so moved farther west. He wondered when this town, first built by rebels and malcontents, had been taken over by vampires.