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Not even the Mother. The ley line and the curse kept the Mother away.
And so Daphne waited…
…centuries.
Until the right people came along and broke the spell, releasing her into a world vastly changed.
Daphne woke from the memory, fearful for a moment that she’d lost yet more eons but the cage she found herself trapped in had a view of Circe’s cottage. The bars were of iron and sizzled her palms when she gripped them. The floor was metal plated and burned her soles. She reached between the rods to try and touch the ground, wanting contact with the Mother, but the witch had sprinkled it with salt. Even if it weren’t, in this poisoned place, Daphne doubted the Mother would have heard.
Would the Mother even care? After all, she’d let Circe live, then led Daphne to the witch who’d hurt her. Did the Mother want her to die?
She could have sworn she heard a faint whisper, Have faith.
Hard to have faith in such a situation.
A rumble in the distance drew her attention, a growl like the one she’d heard not long ago. The motorcycle came into view, holding a big man with an intent expression.
Her lips parted.
Baptiste.
The beast had come for her.
The elation within had her smiling in greeting, only to frown. He’d come alone and bore no weapon. Foolish. So much for being rescued.
He parked the motorcycle and slid off, his gaze focused on her. “You okay, Psycho?”
“Do I look okay? I’m in an iron cage,” she grumbled.
He glanced at the cottage. “Is the witch inside?”
“I don’t know where she is but you’d best hurry. She most likely knows you’re here.”
“I’m coming. Don’t get your roots in a twist.” He swaggered in her direction, looking nonchalant, but she saw the tension that had his eyes scanning the area, the way his nose twitched ever so slightly as he scented.
“This isn’t the time for levity. The witch is Circe, my old enemy,” she stated.
“So I’ve heard. Fucking CA handed you over.” He passed the bubbling cauldron with a frown.
“They were trying to save the lives of their captured agents.”
“At the expense of yours,” he growled as his boot crunched some brittle bones on the ground.
She rolled her shoulders. “I’m better equipped to handle her.”
“Says the woman in a cage.”
“Did you come here just to insult me?” she groused.
“I’m here to save you-ooo!” He yelped as he suddenly got yanked off his feet by a hidden snare. The tether around his ankle had him dangling upside down and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Doing a great job with the rescue,” she snickered.
He scowled. “A temporary setback.” His shirt rode up his body, but he paid it no mind as he bent in half, using his abdominal muscles, which flexed admirably as he reached to grab the rope. It took him but a moment to release the loop from his ankle, then he dropped to the ground.
Despite doing it quickly, he ran out of time.
Circe appeared suddenly in a puff of smoke. “If it isn’t the wood nymph’s lover. Say goodnight.” With a snap of her fingers, the witch put Baptiste to sleep, the spell buckling his knees and sending him to the ground in a heap.
