Eileen Wilks - Ritual Magic

But Lily didn’t pay attention to Miriam. Her eyes went to the other side of the hole in the deck. That was where Rule lay, his eyes closed. And Isen beside him.

Both men were naked. Carl sat between them with a hand on each man’s chest. Rule’s head was bloody. His arm was, too. Lily couldn’t tell how badly he was hurt. She could barely see Isen, with Carl in the way, but he was as motionless as his son. Not as bloody, though.

Were they unconscious? Spelled?

Her breath was coming fast and jerky. She tried to steady it. Rule was alive . That was what counted. She’d guessed he was a prisoner when she knew where he was, so seeing him there—so still!—shouldn’t be such a shock. He was alive, and if he’d been hurt, he’d heal. If he’d been spelled . . . that was it. That was why Carl sat there with a hand on each man’s chest. He must be holding sleep charms to their bare skin.

If they needed a sleep charm to keep Rule knocked out, then he wasn’t wounded too badly. Lily’s breathing finally evened out.

Pete made the “halt” sign at her and Cory. Cory stopped, so Lily had to. Pete walked to the edge of the hole in the deck and stood there, saying nothing. Everyone must have been told to be quiet while Miriam did her thing.

Lily tore her gaze away from Rule to study the woman who held him prisoner. Whatever Miriam held in her hand was white and powdery. She was shaking it onto the ground to mark a large circle that seemed almost complete. Her hair was loose, a frizzy brown cloud hiding her downturned face. There were other marks on the ground inside the circle, though Lily couldn’t make them out. They’d been drawn in black and didn’t show up well. Lily also saw two objects familiar to her from all the times she’d worked with the coven leader: a small portable altar and a quilted tote. The tote held Miriam’s spellcasting supplies.

It was large enough to hold metal stakes, too.

“There.” Miriam stood, placing one hand at the small of her back and stretching. She wore something white, long, and loose that left her arms bare. Lily had seen the robelike gown before, and the woven belt Miriam wore at her waist, but the scabbard was new. Lily couldn’t see it clearly from this angle, but that was definitely a scabbard fastened to the belt. It must hold the knife. Nam Anthessa.

Miriam heaved a sigh. “Almost done. For goodness’ sake, Pete, what is it this time? No, unless it’s urgent, wait a moment to tell me. I need the dedicates brought into the circle.” She looked around, frowning vaguely. Her gaze passed right over Lily. “Oh, you figure out how to do it. Isen and Rule need to be laid in the very center of the circle with their heads north, feet south. Arrange it. Tell your men to be sure the sleep charms stay in contact, skin to skin, the way I explained. They must be very careful not to step on the circle itself. They can’t damage the runes, but they must stay off the circle. Oh—they should be barefoot.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Pete called four names and began giving instructions.

Miriam stepped up onto the deck and dusted her hands together—and seemed to notice Lily for the first time. “You! Oh, this won’t do. This won’t do at all. You don’t want to see this. Pete! What is Lily doing here?”

Pete finished giving his orders. The four men he’d addressed bent and took off their shoes. “Cory found her. He says he knew you wanted to see her, and he wanted to help, so he brought her to you.”

“I don’t want to see her,” she said crossly. “I wanted to know where she was. I wanted her stopped and held, but I did not want to see her.”

“Oh,” Cory said sadly. “I’m sorry. I thought . . . you asked where she was, and then Pete wanted us to let him know if she came to the gate, and I thought . . . I’m sorry. I thought I was helping.”

“You . . . oh. I did say that, didn’t I? He meant well, but what do I do with her?” Miriam tipped her head as if listening. “Yes, of course. Cory, why didn’t you call Pete like you’d been told?”

“She wasn’t at the gate. She was at the store. Someone told me she was there, and when I went to see, I found her and brought her here. I took her gun,” he added, hopeful as a puppy trying to wag his way past some misunderstanding about the puddle on the floor. “Pete’s got it.”

Miriam looked at Pete. “And you couldn’t just lock her up or something? You had to ask me?” She huffed an impatient breath. “I would have thought someone in your position would have more initiative. Well, you can just take her to—”

Lily could not let Miriam finish giving that order. “I want to stay with Rule.”

“That is not a good idea.” But at last Miriam looked at Lily directly. Their eyes met. Miriam’s were . . . odd. Too bright, too wide. A junkie’s eyes just before the crash. “I’m not at all happy with Rule right now, but you weren’t part of it. You don’t deserve to watch this.”

“Part of what?”

“He attacked his own people! Shot them! It was horrible. I wanted—I was trying so hard —and of course I needed him to come here, but not like that! Now all those people are hurt. Some of them died. I didn’t want people to die, but he made everything so difficult .”

“You don’t think he had reason to fight?” Lily said mildly. “Considering you intend to sacrifice his father and all. Him, too, it looks like. Hammer stakes through their hands and—”

Miriam flared up. “You should know me better than that! I am not like that man. That Robert Friar. There will be no torture, no . . .” Her mood switched as suddenly as if someone had flipped a switch. She giggled. “True. But I’m glad I don’t have to.”

“What don’t you have to do, Miriam?”

Miriam spoke slowly, as if to a rather dim child. “Use those nasty stakes. Friar needed them to bind my lord to his goals, which is why we’re here.” She waved widely. “It’s all Robert Friar’s fault. If he hadn’t bound Dafydd that way, I could have killed strangers instead of . . . I’m really very sorry about the clan, but we have no choice. The stakes, however, are obscene. I would never bind my beautiful Dafydd.”

She needed to keep the woman talking. “Tell me about Dafydd.”

Miriam’s face lit. “You’ll see,” she said eagerly. “Very soon now, you’ll see. He’s so beautiful, so much more than anyone or anything else. And he’s been so alone, so terribly lonely. He found me in my dreams. Or I found him. He . . .”

Miriam liked talking about the god she called Dafydd. Lily listened with half an ear as she babbled on about how wonderful he was. Was it time?

Pete was close, which wasn’t good, but he was watching his men. A pair of them carried Rule into the circle while another man held the charm to Isen’s chest. The fourth man waited beside Isen; Carl still had charm duty there. They were the only ones other than Pete who were close enough to be a problem. Miriam stood right in front of the French doors, about ten feet away—farther than Lily liked, but this might be the only chance she got. If she didn’t try to jump Miriam, but instead—

Around the side of the house, a husky baritone voice started singing: “‘We shall overcome . . .’” A second later, his voice was joined by others—a child’s high voice, and Cynna’s? Could that be Cynna singing? And a voice Lily knew intimately. Her mother’s soprano came in strongly.

Miriam jolted as if someone had shot her. “What’s that?” she cried. “What’s that singing?”

“I’ll find out.” And Pete set off at a lope.

Pete was gone, Miriam distracted. This was her chance. She’d arranged two signals with Cory for when it was time for him to release her—one spoken, one nonverbal. But she didn’t just want him to release her. She wanted him to throw her at Miriam. “Cory—”