Maddie frowned, not sure whether the fuzzy ache in her head or the fire racing through her veins was responsible for her total lack of comprehension.
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Then let me demonstrate."
Eleanor waved her hand. The smoke drifting across the clearing spun towards her, encasing her body from sight for several seconds. When it disappeared, Eleanor was gone, replaced by a withered, hunched-back figure.
"This is my true self." The crone's voice was high and shaky, but undoubtedly Eleanor's. Something in its tone still whispered of seduction and evil.
"This is how I will look by midnight if I do not take the virgin blood I need to sustain my life and looks." The smoke performed its gentle dance, and the more youthful Eleanor reappeared. "As you might guess, I prefer my current form."
"Was Hank like you?"
"Hank lived through me. I was his life, his bloodline. Of course, even I couldn't protect the fool from a wound inflicted by silver. He really should have known better than to carry such a weapon."
Movement flickered in the darkness behind Eleanor. Maddie fought the sudden rush of excitement and terror. Teresa had found the courage to move out of the cell, but all Eleanor had to do was turn slightly, and she'd see the teenager as plain as day. "Surely a sorcerer can find a better way to sustain her looks than killing innocent children."
Teresa was easing around the edge of the cavern entrance, a ragged white shape framed in the cold fire's flickering light.
"There is nothing as powerful as blood magic, and only blood magic can sustain me now." Eleanor raised an eyebrow and studied Maddie critically. "How old do you think I am?"
The crone had looked at least a hundred years old, but something in Eleanor's tone suggested the number was higher. Much higher. "I really have no idea."
Teresa crept past the entrance of the cavern and disappeared into the trees. Maddie didn't relax. Couldn't afford to when the woman standing opposite her could take the shape of a panther and easily catch the fleeing teenager.
"My dear, I am five hundred and twenty-two years old. Hold it well, don't I?" Maddie blinked. Five hundred and twenty-two years old? No wonder the woman was mad—she'd watched the entire world change around her while she remained the same.
"What about Hank? How old was he?"
"He was younger by several hundred years. It took me a while to find a man who was both trainable and, shall we say, as bloodthirsty, as me." The sound of a branch snapping whipped across the clearing, as sharp as a gunshot. Eleanor spun around and stared into the trees.
Maddie waited tensely, listening to the silence and hoping Teresa had the good sense not to move. After several long heartbeats, Eleanor turned back.
"As much as I have enjoyed our little chat, it's time to move. Our guests are approaching."
Something in Eleanor's dark gaze made Maddie retreat a step. Eleanor smiled and waved her left hand casually. Ice snapped across Maddie's skin and held her tight. She couldn't move, could only watch as Eleanor made another motion with her hand and encased her in a wide .
"Now, for my masterpiece." The flames parted as Eleanor walked through them, like slaves bowing before their master. "But I'm afraid you won't be around to see it."
The witch waved a hand. Maddie's silent scream was lost
as the darkness encased her mind.
***
"Don't move," Jon warned softly. He knelt down and studied the trail ahead. Something didn't feel right.
He picked up the rock near his feet and lobbed it ten feet ahead. There was a slight tremor in the bushes to his left, and a swoosh of air as an arrow imbedded itself into the tree trunk to their right. He watched it quiver lightly in the mottled light of the forest. White ash, just like the one that had landed him in the well. And, in an odd sort of way, sent him Maddie.
"Placed to injure, not kill," Mack commented softly. Jon nodded and picked up another rock, lobbing it farther ahead. Another arrow thudded into a tree. "Just in case the first one missed." A third rock had no effect.
He glanced back down the trail and frowned. A whisper of movement told him they were being followed. Mack's men, probably. It certainly didn't feel like Eleanor. Besides, the witch wouldn't make any noise.
He turned his attention back to the trail ahead. He couldn't feelany more traps. "Looks safe to move on."
He rose and led the way forward. No more arrows thudded out of trees to greet them—in fact, the trail seemed entirely too easy. He'd expected Eleanor to play with him a bit more, yet he was over half way up the mountain and so far had only a few poorly placed arrows to contend with.
Worry snaked through his gut. Something was wrong.