You Slay Me
Page 65
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"I can't… can't…" Without looking at the sisters, I leaped to my feet and raced for the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before losing my lunch.
When I returned, Ophelia was standing before Perdita, her hand on her sister's. "Please Perdy, please don't do it. It's wrong. Youknow it's wrong. You know well the penalty demanded of those who call upon the dark mas-ters."
"I'm sorry, Feelie, but I have to. The Tools of Bael are not to be used lightly. I cannot allow Drake—"
A movement of awareness by Ophelia stopped Perdita from finishing her sentence.
"Aisling, are you all right?" Ophelia came forward, her hands outstretched. "You poor dear, what a horrible experience you've had. Did you know it was your mate who killed the Venediger and the other woman before the demon told you?"
I looked past her to where Perdita stood, her face grim. "What can't you allow Drake to do?"
Perdita started to say something, shot her sister an un-readable glance, and then shook her head. "I must leave now—I'm late. I have to open G & T. I will…" She paused at the door, looking back at us. Ophelia moved to stand close to me, a comforting hand on my arm. Perdita's eyes were hard and determined as she looked at us. "I will speak with you later about this."
I wasn't sure which one of us her words were meant for, but before I could ask, she left the room. Ophelia's hands fluttered at her sister's back as she left. "You'll have to excuse Perdy—she has been under a great deal of strain since the Venediger was killed, and she… she was … Well, to be honest, she and Drake Vireo were … were … friends before you came."
"Friends?" I blinked a couple of times while the em-phasis she placed on the word sank into my fuzzy brain. "Oh, you meanfriends. I didn't know."
"I'm sorry. That was tactless of me to blurt it out like that. I just wanted you to understand why Perdy is so upset."
I waved her apology away, rubbing the back of my neck as I sank onto the bed. The feeling of sickness and despair still clung to me, but it had lessened with the demon's disappearance. "It's all right. Drake might think I'm his mate, but it doesn't mean I have to accept that role. And we're not…together."
She looked relieved.
I scooted up until my back was against the wall. "To answer your question—yes, I knew Drake was responsi-ble for the deaths. I found Bafamal at his house. I knew there could be only one reason the demon was there. It was just a bit of a shock having it confirmed."
Ophelia curled up next to me. I closed my eyes, the nausea still holding me in its gut-wrenching grip. "How horrible for you to be deceived by a man you are so bound to. What are you going to do now?"
I rubbed my head. A headache was blossoming to life, making it difficult to think clearly. "I had planned
to take whatever evidence the demon provided to the police, but now I'm not so sure. There was nothing it said that I could offer as proof positive, and if I tried to explain to Inspector Proust just who Bafamal was, he'd lock me away in a loony bin."
"Perhaps if you watch the video, something will occur to you," she offered, setting the video camera next to me. "I must go and make sure Perdy is all right, but then you and I will brainstorm a solution to this problem. There must be a way we can make the police understand just who is behind the murders."
I thanked her, lying quiet for a few minutes until I felt like I could move without my head splitting open—or vomiting again. I sat up and flipped on the video camera, wincing when the demon's voice came out just as loud as if it stood before me.
"Who killed Aurora Deauxville?"
"Drake Vireo."
I watched the recording all the way through, then stopped it and thought about everything the demon had said. There was something that it mentioned that both-ered me, something that was raising a red flag, but my tired, aching brain couldn't pin it down.
"Well, she's off," Ophelia said fifteen minutes later as she dragged the armchair over to the bed. "She's very upset, but determined to keep G & T open until the Venediger's will is read next Monday. He promised to leave it to her, you know, as a mark of his respect, and an acknowledgment of his debt to her."
"His debt?"
"Perdy has worked for him for almost a year. She's a very powerful Wiccan, and she has done much to teach him of the Goddess's power."
I rubbed my forehead. The headache was increasing in its intensity. "Now I really am confused, and not too proud to admit it. I thought the Venediger was a mage."
She nodded.
"Isn't a mage some sort of a magician? A wizard? Wouldn't that mean he knew magic?"
A frown creased her brow. "Do you not have any mages where you are from?"
I made a half-shrugging motion that committed me to no particular answer.
"I thought they were everywhere, but I guess not. A mage does indeed know magic, he's a master wizard in fact, but it's dark magic that he practices. You might have gathered that Perdy and I feel strongly that it's our duty to spread the word about me Goddess's love to those who make use of the dark powers"—I made a little grimacing moue. I had been on the receiving end of Perdita's lec-tures about the power of Wicca more than once in the last twenty-four hours—"and she felt particularly that the Venediger could be turned from his path of destruction if only he would embrace the Rede."
"But he didn't," I said.
"No, and it was only last week that she finally admit-ted that nothing would turn him from the dark path.
That's part of the reason why she feels so bad—she had intended on resigning her position, feeling it was wrong to stay working for him when he embodied everything we hold abhorrent, but now … now she feels she has to stay on, at least until a new Venediger appears."
I closed my mouth from where it had been hanging open, trying to at least appear as if I had a few wits left. "The Venediger is a… uh …"
"It's a position within the Otherworld, yes. You don't have them? No, you wouldn't, not in the States. Every-thing there is a democracy." She smiled. "Here we stay with the old ways. The Venediger is a position of power, a person who controls the Otherworld of each country."
When I returned, Ophelia was standing before Perdita, her hand on her sister's. "Please Perdy, please don't do it. It's wrong. Youknow it's wrong. You know well the penalty demanded of those who call upon the dark mas-ters."
"I'm sorry, Feelie, but I have to. The Tools of Bael are not to be used lightly. I cannot allow Drake—"
A movement of awareness by Ophelia stopped Perdita from finishing her sentence.
"Aisling, are you all right?" Ophelia came forward, her hands outstretched. "You poor dear, what a horrible experience you've had. Did you know it was your mate who killed the Venediger and the other woman before the demon told you?"
I looked past her to where Perdita stood, her face grim. "What can't you allow Drake to do?"
Perdita started to say something, shot her sister an un-readable glance, and then shook her head. "I must leave now—I'm late. I have to open G & T. I will…" She paused at the door, looking back at us. Ophelia moved to stand close to me, a comforting hand on my arm. Perdita's eyes were hard and determined as she looked at us. "I will speak with you later about this."
I wasn't sure which one of us her words were meant for, but before I could ask, she left the room. Ophelia's hands fluttered at her sister's back as she left. "You'll have to excuse Perdy—she has been under a great deal of strain since the Venediger was killed, and she… she was … Well, to be honest, she and Drake Vireo were … were … friends before you came."
"Friends?" I blinked a couple of times while the em-phasis she placed on the word sank into my fuzzy brain. "Oh, you meanfriends. I didn't know."
"I'm sorry. That was tactless of me to blurt it out like that. I just wanted you to understand why Perdy is so upset."
I waved her apology away, rubbing the back of my neck as I sank onto the bed. The feeling of sickness and despair still clung to me, but it had lessened with the demon's disappearance. "It's all right. Drake might think I'm his mate, but it doesn't mean I have to accept that role. And we're not…together."
She looked relieved.
I scooted up until my back was against the wall. "To answer your question—yes, I knew Drake was responsi-ble for the deaths. I found Bafamal at his house. I knew there could be only one reason the demon was there. It was just a bit of a shock having it confirmed."
Ophelia curled up next to me. I closed my eyes, the nausea still holding me in its gut-wrenching grip. "How horrible for you to be deceived by a man you are so bound to. What are you going to do now?"
I rubbed my head. A headache was blossoming to life, making it difficult to think clearly. "I had planned
to take whatever evidence the demon provided to the police, but now I'm not so sure. There was nothing it said that I could offer as proof positive, and if I tried to explain to Inspector Proust just who Bafamal was, he'd lock me away in a loony bin."
"Perhaps if you watch the video, something will occur to you," she offered, setting the video camera next to me. "I must go and make sure Perdy is all right, but then you and I will brainstorm a solution to this problem. There must be a way we can make the police understand just who is behind the murders."
I thanked her, lying quiet for a few minutes until I felt like I could move without my head splitting open—or vomiting again. I sat up and flipped on the video camera, wincing when the demon's voice came out just as loud as if it stood before me.
"Who killed Aurora Deauxville?"
"Drake Vireo."
I watched the recording all the way through, then stopped it and thought about everything the demon had said. There was something that it mentioned that both-ered me, something that was raising a red flag, but my tired, aching brain couldn't pin it down.
"Well, she's off," Ophelia said fifteen minutes later as she dragged the armchair over to the bed. "She's very upset, but determined to keep G & T open until the Venediger's will is read next Monday. He promised to leave it to her, you know, as a mark of his respect, and an acknowledgment of his debt to her."
"His debt?"
"Perdy has worked for him for almost a year. She's a very powerful Wiccan, and she has done much to teach him of the Goddess's power."
I rubbed my forehead. The headache was increasing in its intensity. "Now I really am confused, and not too proud to admit it. I thought the Venediger was a mage."
She nodded.
"Isn't a mage some sort of a magician? A wizard? Wouldn't that mean he knew magic?"
A frown creased her brow. "Do you not have any mages where you are from?"
I made a half-shrugging motion that committed me to no particular answer.
"I thought they were everywhere, but I guess not. A mage does indeed know magic, he's a master wizard in fact, but it's dark magic that he practices. You might have gathered that Perdy and I feel strongly that it's our duty to spread the word about me Goddess's love to those who make use of the dark powers"—I made a little grimacing moue. I had been on the receiving end of Perdita's lec-tures about the power of Wicca more than once in the last twenty-four hours—"and she felt particularly that the Venediger could be turned from his path of destruction if only he would embrace the Rede."
"But he didn't," I said.
"No, and it was only last week that she finally admit-ted that nothing would turn him from the dark path.
That's part of the reason why she feels so bad—she had intended on resigning her position, feeling it was wrong to stay working for him when he embodied everything we hold abhorrent, but now … now she feels she has to stay on, at least until a new Venediger appears."
I closed my mouth from where it had been hanging open, trying to at least appear as if I had a few wits left. "The Venediger is a… uh …"
"It's a position within the Otherworld, yes. You don't have them? No, you wouldn't, not in the States. Every-thing there is a democracy." She smiled. "Here we stay with the old ways. The Venediger is a position of power, a person who controls the Otherworld of each country."
