“Yes,” Maggie said simply. “Vampires.” It sounded like van-pirates in her little rasp. So much to know when you’re only two years old.
My heart broke a little.
Surprise laced Tally’s expression. She was wary watching her daughter go through this ordeal. This was her baby, and knowing she would never escape these visions, this life, had to be incredibly tough.
“Is Marcy with the vampires?” I asked. That wasn’t ideal, but my insides relaxed knowing James was with her.
“They’re coming.” This time her soft voice sounded ominous. She glanced up at me as her eyes slid back to normal. For the first time I noticed they were the brightest blue.
We weren’t talking about Marcy any longer.
All the hairs on my arms and neck shot to attention. Nick coughed and Rourke ground his teeth.
Maggie picked up another crayon, this time in her left hand, and started to draw like something had possessed her. Her eyes fluttered and she rocked back and forth in her chair, chanting, “Run, run, run, run.”
All of us moved closer, craning our necks over the table, including her two witch nannies. This little child was going to run out of steam in about two seconds.
“What is she drawing?” I whispered. “Hurry, we have to figure it out before she stops.”
The drawing was a jumble of stick figures, all layered on top of each other. There were more wolves with pointy ears; some looked like they were ejecting something from their mouths. There were a lot of them.
“I think that’s the Vamp Queen,” Rourke murmured in my ear as he pointed to a stick figure with fangs and a long dress. It was a decent guess.
“What’s she doing?”
“Biting,” Rourke said.
Indeed, the Vamp Queen looked as if she was trying to bite someone. A wild guess said it was me. The victim had long hair like my own and she was screaming.
Perfect.
Maggie’s focus shifted slightly to the right and she started scribbling a single circle over and over again. It got bigger and bigger as she went. Then she uttered one last word.
“Demon.”
It sounded like denim, but we all knew she wasn’t talking about a pair of jeans.
Tally reached down and plucked her daughter out of her chair. Maggie sagged in relief, dropping the crayon and resting her head on her mom’s shoulder. “It’s okay, lovey.” Tally kissed the crook of her sweaty neck. “You did great. It’s time for us to take a break. Auntie Meryl is going to take you downstairs for some cookies and milk.” One of the witches strode forward, her arms outstretched.
Maggie’s head rose with effort. She was exhausted. “Okay, Mommy.” Her face was even more flushed now. As Tally shifted her toward the waiting Meryl, the child turned.
“Bad men coming”—she pointed her little finger directly at me—“for you.”
Tally paced over a well-worn Oriental rug to stand in front of a huge picture window that faced the lake. Rourke and I sat close together on an antique chaise, which almost wasn’t big enough to hold the both of us. We were in a well-stocked library that appeared to double as Tally’s office. It was lined with thousands of books, and from their crumbling leather bindings, many of them appeared to be ancient. Nick sat across the room in a high-backed chair, his hands clasped in his lap, his short brown curls falling around his worried face. This day wasn’t starting off very well and it wasn’t even dawn.
“You can’t stay here. Not with a Demon Lord after you,” Tally said.
Since Maggie had signaled out the demons, there had been little use to hide it, so I’d just finished telling her what had happened in Selene’s cave once the Demon Lord had showed up. “I understand your concern, but you’re the only one who can help us figure out how to defeat them. We know very little about demons, or their laws,” I countered. “It said I had a court date in the Underworld. There has to be some way to stop it, some information to help my case.”
“I’m sorry, but helping you is out of the question. Witches and demons are sworn enemies. Our magics have battled each other since the dawn of time. Our power is of the earth and theirs is of the blood.” She turned from the window and walked toward the large desk situated in the center of the room and sat. “If I involve myself in your mess, I bring the entire House of Witches, and potentially every Coven in the world, into your fight. I will not do it, so don’t ask me again.”
I scooted to the edge of the settee. “What about a simple swap of information? Nobody has to know you gave me anything, and to be clear, I’m not asking you to join my fight. I’m only seeking data, anything that can aid me, something to bolster my odds of winning a court battle or of finding a way out of it entirely. And we both know the only way to do that is by obtaining intelligence about the demons and their habits, of which I currently know nothing.”
She rested her hands on the desk and leaned over. “What kind of information do you have that I could possibly want enough to risk putting my Coven in jeopardy?”
She had a point. I was short on supernatural info. “Okay,” I said, thinking quickly, “what if the witches made a formal alliance with the wolves? Then you’d be privy to any information the Pack had, within reason.” It wasn’t unheard of for some supernatural Sects to join together during times of strife when it was advantageous. In those rare cases, there were formal agreements to sign, but certainly my father had something of value to give to the witches. I knew he would be agreeable if it kept me out of the Underworld. “The witches could also benefit from more protection, and in return you agree to give me something on the demons. Tally, you know it’s the only real chance I have. Knowledge is the only way I’ll be able to talk myself out of this sentence.”
On our long ride home, Rourke had filled me in on what little he knew about demons and their thing with language. We agreed if my defense was worded perfectly, and if I sighted enough overarching supernatural laws in my favor, I had a slim chance of wiggling my way out—and talking my way out would be infinitely easier than trying to fight my way out of the Underworld, which was our solid plan B.