Ascended (War of the Covens 3)

But Nikolai and Reuben wouldn’t let her, and by wouldn’t let her, she meant Nikolai had put a spell around her that stopped her from using her communication spell. And she couldn’t find a way around it. Unfortunately, she still had so much to learn.

It had been a week since she’d learned of the Midnights’ plan for attack. For once they were all together—Saffron, Nikolai, Reuben, and her—sitting around the kitchen, actually participating in conversation.

“No, it’s definitely a different guy who’s the voice of Kermit the Frog. It has been for years,” Reuben insisted as he sipped from a mug of warm blood.

Nikolai frowned. “No. We get Sesame Street in Russia too. You can’t fool me … Kermit has sounded the same for decades.”

Caia tried to hide her snort in her toast.

Reuben groaned. “Yeah, because they found a guy who sounds exactly like him.”

The Russian looked pensive for a moment. “So … how long are we talking?”

“I dunno … Jim Henson died in 1990.”

Nikolai shook his head, looking disturbed. “No, that’s not right. I’ve seen Muppet Christmas Carol. That was definitely the original Kermit.”

“Oh.” Caia grinned, remembering watching that movie during the lonely Christmas holidays she spent with Irini. Obviously they didn’t believe in Christmas and all that stuff, but most supernaturals celebrated it to fit in with the humans. “I love that movie.”

Saffron leaned back in her chair. “Were you even an egg when that movie came out?”

“It was 1992.” Reuben nodded. “Caia was just about to hatch.”

“No,” Nikolai insisted. “Then that can’t be right. You said Henson died in 1990, da?”

“Yeah, and Steve Whitmire took over for him. He’s the voice of Kermit the Frog in the Muppet Christmas Carol.”

This seemed to upset Nikolai, and Caia shared an amused look with Saffron. He shook his head again. “I could have sworn Kermit has always been Kermit. What I want to know is how he sounds so much like the other man?”

Caia grunted into her juice this time. “What I want to know is how Reuben knows so much about this stuff?”

The vampyre scowled at her. “Photographic memory.”

“And the Jim Henson Company was one of the institutions you felt necessary to study up on?” Saffron asked, deadpan.

Caia choked on a bite of toast.

“Isn’t anyone going to rescue Caia from the toast?” a familiar voice intruded. Caia was suddenly whacked on the back (hard) by Nikolai, and the toast dislodged itself. She looked up to see the Prophet standing over the table.

“Better?” he asked softly.

She winced at the sting Nikolai’s hand had left but thanked him nonetheless before turning back on the Prophet. She gazed up at him. “Please tell me you have news.”

He grinned back at her. “Finally, I have news.”

“Well?” Saffron snapped.

The Prophet’s grin grew wider. “Looks like the apocalypse is coming, children. The gods will take away the trace if Caia succeeds in becoming the Head of both covens.”

Relief swept through her like a tidal wave, and for the first time in weeks, she felt as alive as a surfer crashing under it.

“Ahhhh haa haaaa!” Caia jumped up happily and threw her arms around the old guy. He hugged her back tight, laughing at her excitement. After a moment, he drew back from her, his expression serious.

“Now all you have to do is convince the Daylights of your plan and start your witch hunt for Marita.”

She was sobered by the thought. To do this, to free them all from the trace, she was still going to have to kill someone. Yes, it was the evil bitch who’d murdered members of her pack, tortured innocent children, and inevitably caused the death of her mentor, Marion. Hmm, when she thought about it like that, maybe taking her out wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

“The hard part is explaining all this to the Council.” Saffron sighed.

Reuben shook his head. “Not necessarily. Vanne will believe us.”

“Maybe.” Nikolai nodded. “But if you don’t mind, for now I’ll stay here. I don’t want to be imprisoned just for being of Midnight blood.”

“Fair enough.” Reuben patted him on the shoulder. He looked up at the Prophet. “Thank you. Again.”

The Prophet smiled. “It’s always a pleasure, Kirios.”

And then he was gone.

Caia stared a moment at the spot where he’d been standing before spinning around to face the weird trio that had become her trustworthy companions (which wasn’t saying much). “OK. So … the Center it is, then.”

Reuben nodded in agreement. He didn’t smile but there was a new light in his dark eyes. “The Center it is.”

19

Blood Oath

The atmosphere at the Center was different from before. There had always been this tension, this sense of everyone being wound tight, but also a sense of security, of feeling powerful and protected at the same time. The stressful tension, however, had unfortunately been replaced by a heightened sense of expectation, and the worst of it was, it was kind of like that butterfly-in-the-belly feeling when one was unsure of a situation. Moreover, Caia discerned a new uneasiness among the Center’s inhabitants—a paranoid awareness of one’s own surroundings, as if awaiting imminent attack.