Beyond the asphalt lot, trees stood tall and straight as soldiers on parade. And overhead, the moon continued its glide across the sky. Every night, the moon was a little closer to completing its monthly cycle. And every night, they were a little further from the success of a mission that Shea didn’t even completely understand.
“Come away from the window, Shea.”
“What did the coven do with the black silver, Torin? You said they created it, but what did they do with it?”
He stood up, his chair scraping against the scarred wood floor. Crossing to her, he pulled her hand from the drapes and drew her away from the window. “It was decided that they would gather all of the black silver they could and create the Artifact.”
More memories stirred inside her mind, tantalizing her, tormenting her with snippets, twinges of recognition.
“Some of the magical element was gone, escaped into the world—as I told you, it showed up in many different times and places. But the coven was able to gather most of it and together, they used their powers to fashion the Artifact.”
She closed her eyes, trying to grab hold of a thread of memory. “Describe it.”
“A black silver crest, crafted from a series of interlinking Celtic knots, as many of those in the coven had come from Eire originally.”
She could almost see it, Shea thought, focusing her mind on the nebulous images drifting through her consciousness.
“When whole, the Artifact is a key to the dimensional portals of other worlds, other realities. The magic captured within was so powerful, so all-consuming, that simply touching it would drive a mere man mad,” he said, his voice deep, soft, mesmerizing. “When the coven saw what it had created, even they trembled. And so it was women of immense power who protected it—and the world.”
The image in her mind dissolved like sugar in water. She sighed, opened her eyes and looked up at Torin. “What went wrong? I saw that vision, remember? I saw me—not me, but me—and the others, calling on something dark. Terrifying.”
His jaw tightened and his pale gray eyes flashed. “It was the year 1200. The last great coven of witches, reincarnations of those who had first created the Artifact, arrogantly thought to harness all power for themselves.”
This she remembered as he spoke. This vision floated back to her on dark wings and settled in her mind like storm clouds. She saw it all again as Torin described it. More, she felt it all again.
“They set a circle,” he said, “and channeled all of their energies into the Artifact, hoping to open the doors to other dimensions, other avenues of power. Instead, they opened the gateway to Hell.”
“Oh, God . . .”
He held on to her shoulders as she swayed in reaction to his words, to the memory. More images appeared in her mind and she once again watched as Torin described the events of that long-ago night.
“Demons poured from the doorway until at last Lucifer himself stepped through into this world.” He paused, took a breath and regretfully admitted, “The Eternals couldn’t breach the circle of power to reach their witches. We were forced to remain on the outside, battling those demons that escaped. We couldn’t help. Couldn’t get to you.”
His fingers tightened on her shoulders and Shea reached up to cover his hands with her own, linking them as they should have been linked on that awful night.
She saw it all in a blinding instant. The blood, the terror. Pain and light and noise erupted in her mind in a rush. Shea shrieked in response, held her head and crumpled to the floor at Torin’s feet.
He reached for her and something crashed through the window, shattering glass into the room until it fell like clear, sharp rain.
A metal cylinder clattered to the floor not more than a foot from them.
“Damn.” Torin wrapped his arms around her and flashed them out.
An instant later, the motel exploded in a fireball that lit up the night sky.
Chapter 31
Sanctuary stood alone, deep in the Uinta mountains of Utah, a safe zone for women—witch and human. Here they weren’t hunted. Here they could simply live. Of course the threat of discovery hung over them all the time, but hidden as they were, that threat was far less than it could have been.
Rune was the only male in the camp and as he stalked across the compound, he noted that several little girls were trailing after him, giggling and pointing. As if