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His dark eyes search my face. "Somehow I trust that your word is good.” We trudge over the brush, our boots crunching over the hardened twigs of winter as we approach the bottom of the hill. An old wooden door can be seen through the brush over the top of it. He reaches through and bangs on the door. "Matilda, I need to speak with you; it's of an urgent matter."
"Maybe you should tell her who you are?" I suggest.
He laughs. "Matilda and her coven of witches saw us coming from way over the horizon. They claim this hill as their own, and no one comes wandering into this territory unless they want tosee the witches, and no one sneaks up on the witches because they have eyes in the back of their head and everywhere in the forest.
My eyes widen at his description.
He shakes his head. “Not literally, figuratively.”
I smirk. "Well, for the record. I only speak in languages, so if they have a witch language all their own, I'm afraid I won't be much help to you."
Calabrea squeezes my hand. "Matilda and I have a long history. She’s had witches taken from her coven by Isala. I'm hoping that she will want to help us find Isala too. The witches see much and say little around these parts. They stick to themselves and try to fly under the radar, to avoid the public’s attention. But this is something that they may want to take a side for.”
I take in the hillside and the land around it. "Isn't it a little primitive for them to live in a hill?” I ask, although it looks more like a mountain to me. “I mean, seriously. Hasn't the entire world, all the factions evolved? Why not the witches?"
Now he really laughs and gestures to the mound of land in front of us. “You are correct. It’s more like a mountain, and the entire thing is a façade. Inside the witches have everything their hearts could desire. It's like their own little city. Do not feel bad for the witches. They've carved themselves out a perfectly good life where no one usually bothers them or vice versa. Everyone is happy, including them.”
The old wooden red door opens, and an older woman with trailing grey hair, long green fingernails and ankle-length black skirt opens the door. Her eyes are as grey as her hair, and she twirls a green and purple scarf that hangs from her neck as she speaks, clearly having overheard our conversation.
“That was before your vampire went rogue and started convincing the young witches that a life here wasn't fit for themand that they were missing out on so many things. Now I’ve lost ten of my best young witches, and of course they just finished their initial training in magic. No telling what secrets she's going to be able to get out of them."
Matilda eyes me as she speaks to Master Calabrea. "Who is the stranger with the jade eyes and curly red hair?"
“I'm Tansia," I reply, holding out my hand.
She glances at it, then back up at me and then to Master Calabrea. "I was expecting you, but we're getting ready for a ceremonial practice. I need to be in the auditorium shortly, so let's make this quick. About five days ago ten of my ladies went missing. All of the witches have seen pictures of Isala, sent over to me by Devora. A group of them went out for a Saturday shopping trip and never made it back. The witches we had chaperoning reported that all Isala did was talk to them, but before they could swoop in and intercede, all ten of the young witches had disappeared. Vanished, right before their very eyes.”
Master Calabrea's eyes go wide. "Isala has magic?"
Matilda’s eyes observe us both keenly. “Oh, I'd say she has something. I don't know if she has the magic, or someone who can do it working with her, but my senior witches wouldn't lie. They saw all of the witches vanish while Isala was talking with her.”
Calabrea tenses beside me. “Were there any shifters around her? I'm going to see Sheba next. I hear that he arrived in Italy last week too. Not likely a coincidence?”
Matilda cackles. "You're too smart for your own good, vampire. Far from a coincidence. His pack leaders have lost so many to Isala. Sheba himself is gathering all of his leaders after another group got scooped up by the evil bitch. I swear, that woman should have an army by now but word in the forest is that she can't recruit them faster than you vampires kill them.”
Calabrea ignores her dig. “Where is she hiding, Matilda? You and your witches know everything.”
She watches him as her eyes swirl, looking at him and then at me. She points to me. “Your woman friend, she will find them. She has the magic and vision of sight."
My eyes go wide. "I have what?"
Matilda squints. “Sight, you can see into the future if you allow it. Your grandmother and hers before her had it too.”
I shake my head. "I don't think so. Why does everyone seem to think they know me? I can assure you, I do not have magic, the power of sight, or anything of the sort. I'm just a normal human, the same as my cousin Embry, and our grandmother.”
Her keen grey eyes stop swirling so suddenly that it throws me off balance. She waves her hands in the air suddenly. "Three nights of sleep and you shall wake remembering who you are, where you came from, and where the future takes you. You will help save the underworld, and your choices will lead the way. Now go, human!” she screeches.
A cold still sensation comes over me, but it only lasts a moment, and when it passes everything is the same. "Thanks for your help, Matilda. We'll be on our way, but if you find out anything more let me know,” Master Calabrea tells her.
Matilda narrows her eyes. "Tansia will help you find the shifters. They will lead you to Isala, and when you find Isala you will find and rescue my witches. You will need Tansia’s powers of sight to determine which wolfpack to follow. There are many now, all meant to throw you off the trail of the one with Isala."
Calabrea nods. "Thank you, Matilda. Of course, we'll bring your witches back safely if we find them. Thank you for your help," he says, taking my arm and spinning me, guiding me down the trail from which we came.
I start to say something. "Keep your thoughts to yourself right now. We'll talk later. The trees have ears," he says, as wepass under an old tree that must be at least hundreds of years old.
His cape flies open and gently surrounds me with its darkness and warmth. “Here, let's get back to my estate before dawn breaks," he says. “Close your eyes.”
When his cape lifts and my eyes open, we are in a large room with floor-to-ceiling windows covered by deep blood red drapes. He watches me taking in the opulent space furnished with mahogany wood end tables and a large round coffee table all finished with white and grey swirling marble. "The blood red color of the drapes is just for conversational appeal. Especially for non vampires who come to call," he says, grinning at me.
