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I was walking in a long, narrow tunnel that wound through the labyrinth for what seemed like forever. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew I was wandering on the astral in my sleep, and that knowledge comforted me. I began to look for any sign of life—anybody who might be able to help me.
And then I was running. A shadow loomed behind me and, terrified it might be Hyto, I darted from side to side, looking for some cover, some place to hide. But the shadow stayed apace with me, and after a while, I turned to find that it was merely a reflection of myself.
“What do you want? Who are you? Why do you look like me?”
And then, I flashed—and was in the other body, staring at my bruised and aching self. “You know what I want,” I found myself saying. “You know why you’re running from me. Just admit it, because otherwise you’re going to stand in your own way.”
Blink, and back to myself. An ache stirred in my heart. “No, I don’t want to think about it. I just want to get out of this dream.”
My alter ego shrugged. “You can’t, not until you reclaim the part of yourself you’re rejecting. Not until you reclaim me. Think about it, Camille . . . think what the hell you’re doing.”
I hung my head. I knew, deep inside, what was going on. I didn’t want to face it—didn’t want to admit it.
“I . . . What do you want me to say?”
“The truth. Just fucking be honest with me—with yourself .”
I let out a shuddering breath. “Fine. You want honest? This is all my fault.”
“How? How the hell did you cause this?”
“If I hadn’t let Vanzir fuck me, then I wouldn’t have had the argument with Smoky, and Hyto wouldn’t have caught hold of me.” A bitter tang rose up in my mouth and my anger surprised me. “If I hadn’t enjoyed Vanzir, this wouldn’t have happened. Somehow—if I could have hated him for what happened . . . if I hadn’t been agreeable . . .”
“You mean if Vanzir had raped you . . . or if you had killed him, then Hyto wouldn’t have come looking for you? Or maybe, if you had let Vanzir feed off your mind, none of this would have happened?”
Apparently, I was really good at needling myself.
“Yes—no! I don’t know!” Frustrated, angry at myself—both sides of me—I leaned against a wall. “The argument over Vanzir led to my getting caught. This is all my fault.”
“You fucking know that’s not true—get it out of your head. Would you tell that to Delilah? Did Menolly deserve what she got because she couldn’t hold her position and fell right into the midst of Dredge’s lair? Did she?”
Angry now, furious that those words could even find their way into my voice—be it me, or an alternate me saying it—I lashed out.
“No! She didn’t deserve it. Nobody deserves it. And those women Hyto killed didn’t deserve it, either. And neither do I!”
“Then why are you harboring the secret fear that you do deserve it?” My alter ego was softer now, almost tearful.
I closed my eyes, hung my head. “I don’t know. Maybe . . . maybe it’s because I need somebody to be angry at, someone not out to kill me. I can’t fight back against Hyto. If I can’t scream at him . . . so who the hell can I scream at? Not at Hanna—she’s my only hope for help. And it’s not her fault, either. How can I deal with all this anger and fear and pain if I can’t get it outside myself?”
“What about your magic? Don’t ever forget you’re a witch. You’re a priestess for the Moon Mother. Doesn’t that count for something?”
A cool wind rushed over me and I opened my eyes to find myself standing in a wide barren field. I was on the astral—in spirit, but above me was the Moon and she was peeking down at me, reaching down with her glittering touch to wrap me in moonbeams from the faint sliver that glistened in the sky. The promise of hope, of love, of finding my way in the darkness enveloped me, and I clung to the dream, clung to the strands of possibility.
I held on to her promise for all I was worth. My magic . . . what spells could I cast that might help me? Death magic wasn’t going to do me any good—especially not without Morio—but perhaps . . .
Running through my repertoire of spells, I remembered the Summoning spell. I didn’t have any physical components, but maybe I didn’t need them. I was a priestess now—yes, untrained—but I had been chosen by the Moon Mother.
I closed my eyes and gathered all the energy I could from that faint sliver of light in the sky, and wove it between my fingers. Please, please don’t backfire on me now. Please help me. Please summon someone who can find me.
I thought of my husbands, of Morio and Smoky and Trillian. Longing for them, I searched for their energy and felt the edges of it, but couldn’t quite reach out enough. I looked for Chase, but he was gone and I silently wished him luck in getting off the astral, back home. And then—from a distance, I felt someone familiar.
Following the trail of energy, I started walking, then running at a pace only one of the Moon Mother’s chosen can manage. The Moon had my back and she was giving me strength. I soaked it in, directed it toward my injuries, bade her be with me in spirit as well as body.
Moon Mother, my great Lady, you know I will bear whatever I must bear with honor, but I beg of you, help me. Help me escape, help me destroy my enemies, help me save my family. Help me topple the evil that seeks to tear me limb from limb. Guide me, Mother of the Night, Lady of the Hunt. Hear my heart, hear my soul, let me rest my head on your breast.
A great energy surged through my spirit, and my speed increased. I raced like the wind, like the hounds of Hel were following me. My hair streamed back, and with each step, each fall of my feet into the mists, my determination increased. I would not let Hyto win. I would not blame myself for this. Vanzir and I had done what we needed to do, and there were just some things you could never undo, never change, so you learned to live with them.
The energy up ahead was coming at me full tilt now, and, overjoyed, I flew toward it, stumbling to a stop before a figure that I now recognized.
