Silence.
“Samson?” He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it, but the screen was now dark.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Demeter felt her meditative self shift onto another plane.
This was not what usually happened when she sought a quick glimpse of insight by touching someone’s head, but she didn’t usually do this inside an empowered circle with the intention of delving into another’s private realm.
She opened her eyes.
Persephone was no longer seated before her; the walls of the kitchen were no longer surrounding her. Instead, she stood before a willow tree at the edge of a lake.
She made a slow but complete revolution, viewing the whole of her new environment. It was a serene setting, green and fertile. The gentle lapping of the water was calming. The smell of wheat was carried on the breeze.
“Hello!” Demeter called.
Startled birds flittered out of branches, their protesting cries echoing back as they fled.
Demeter grumbled and crossed her arms.
Facing the lake once more, she wondered if the totem was a water creature. That would explain the proximity of the lake. She studied the surface, watching for a telltale splash. When no such sound occurred, her gaze was drawn to the island out in the lake.
Seeing Persephone’s meditation world was insightful, but she could not shake the guilty feeling that accompanied this intrusive peek into her granddaughter’s private space.
“Hello.”
Demeter’s crossed arms shot out defensively, startled by the voice. Spinning to face the sound, she saw a jackal standing not far away. Her breath caught. “Oh!”
The jackal must have sensed the unease she felt; he sat and pricked his ears forward. He even wagged his tail.
“I’m Demeter Alcmedi.” She relaxed her shoulders as she spoke.
“I am glad to meet you, grandmother of the Lustrata. I am Amenemhab.”
“Am-men-what?”
“Amenemhab.”
“Got it.” She nodded once, but wasn’t going to try to say it aloud.
“You’ve come because Persephone is in danger.” The wind picked up, cold.
“Yes.” Demeter shuffled an urgent step forward. “What do you know of it?”
His head bobbed up and down in an odd canine version of a shrug. His ears lowered, lending him an expression of concern. “I sense the danger, but I know nothing of it. Whatever is happening, it is not happening here.”
Wringing her hands, she asked, “Can you not move between planes and find out?”
The jackal’s nose pointed at the lake, then the tree. “This is her plane. I am here until she and I have accomplished all the tasks set before us. I can leave this place only then . . . or when her current physical body dies.”
Demeter swallowed the lump in her throat that formed at his ominous words. “What can I do?”
The jackal’s snout aimed downward and his paw rubbed his muzzle thoughtfully.
Before he could come to a conclusive thought, a trumpeting roar filled the air. He came to his feet and looked at the lake. The sound had caused Demeter to jump as well, and she turned, too.
Fog was now enveloping the small island and, as they watched, it billowed out across the lake. Clouds roiled in the sky, blocking out the sun. The surface of the lake changed from placid to choppy. The fog crawled over the surface, creeping closer with each moment. Demeter retreated from the water’s edge.
A pair of black dragons emerged, yoked to a strange boat.
The next seconds passed in a rapid blur as the dragons emerged partially from the water and a woman wearing a hooded cloak stepped along the plank that stretched between the scaly creatures. A dragon lowered its neck and she descended gracefully to the shore. The woman walked directly up to Demeter. A wrinkled hand appeared from within the cloak and she raised it slowly. Thick, twisted knuckles bent, and cool ancient fingers touched Demeter’s chin.
Demeter had been watching the hand, as the woman’s face was hidden in the depths of her hood, but as she drew Demeter’s chin up, the wind blew the hood back, revealing a kind old face with frightening dark eyes that could see the past, the present, and the future.
“Hecate.”
The goddess smiled. “It has been a long time, Demeter Alcmedi.”
Demeter’s gaze dropped downward.
“Your granddaughter is ever finding herself in the path of danger.”
“Because of you.”
Hecate laughed. “Your grandmother blamed me for the antics of your youth as well.” She sidestepped and began circling Demeter. “But then you, too, were willful, powerful, and stubborn.” She paused to whisper, “It is a combination that wrought your bloodline. A combination that tests the soul, invites the notice of darker things, and entices the most tempting desires to your door.” Her tone was sharp and cold, as if she spoke icicles instead of words.
“Can you help her?”
“I am helping her.” Hecate began circling again. “Do you think I would allow all my plans to be foiled by Hades?”
At that name, Demeter’s focus snapped back to the goddess. Her lungs expelled air like she’d been kicked hard. “Hades?”
Hecate stopped in front of Demeter. They locked stares for a few heartbeats. “She went in without the proper precautions. He took advantage of her mistake.”
Demeter stood straight. “What are you going to do, Hecate?”
Hecate reached down and snatched Demeter’s hands. She lifted them up and examined each—the back, the palm, the fingers. When she released them she said, “Relax. I seek no bargain with you. I simply want Hades to stay out of my way.” She turned away, extending her hand. One of the dragons lowered his head to accept her petting. Finally, she said, “Hades must be taught a lesson.”
Hecate wrapped one hand around the horn protruding from the dragon’s snout and dug the fingers of her other hand under one of the dragon’s cheek scales. With a shout, she yanked it free. The dragon jerked and snorted a complaint with his long fangs bared, but she did not release the enormous creature or shy from its threat. She wiped the loosened scale over the place from which it had been torn, collecting blood on it. Turning her back on the dragon, she faced Demeter again. “Dragon’s blood,” she said. “The real thing.” The liquid gleamed on the lustrous black scale. “Raise your hands. Palms up.”
Demeter obeyed.
The goddess held the dragon’s scale over each hand in turn, allowing blood to drip onto Demeter’s skin. It was dark, dark red, and almost hot enough to burn. “Rub your hands together.” She turned and shoved the scale back into place on the dragon’s cheek. It grumbled a single note.
Staring at the thick blood smeared all over her hands, Demeter asked, “What is this for?”
“To provide you the strength to hold this.” Hecate reached forward and a scythe suddenly appeared in the goddess’s hands. She held it out, offering it to Demeter.
• • •
Johnny felt something pop like a bubble, and could see on the women’s faces the strain they immediately felt. Seconds ticked away into minutes. Johnny watched the three chanting witches holding the circle, contained within their ley line force field. Lydia was clearly having trouble. Her old hands were shaking as if palsied.
