As Loman strolled through the derelict prison wing, he sneered at the miserable faces peering out through the bars. Male or female, it didn’t matter. He housed them all in the same area to make them easily accessible for his magic-syphoning needs.
Fortune had smiled down upon him when he discovered this place the first time he returned from the Otherworld. The disappearing island housing the prison was just off the coast of Scotland and fairly easy to get to if one knew where to look. And having worked with the former owners of the hellhole, Loman did.
Previously, the place had been used by an anti-witch group known as the Désorcelers Society to house their victims. Carved over the opening of each cell was an ancient Celtic symbol to suppress abilities. By using the blood of the prisoner and a spell—ironically created by a powerful witch for the express purpose of stealing another’s power—the room could not only contain the victim, but their magic as well. Drawing from their body, it gifted their abilities to the witch who had performed the spell. Or in Loman’s case, warlock.
Next to him, someone moaned and held out a hand beseechingly.
“Feck off!” Loman snarled at the man, delighting when the guy cringed from the venom in his voice. Satisfaction filled him. He was close to achieving his goals. Incredibly close.
After escaping the holding area of the Otherworld and landing in England, he’d begun walking down the lane, and the first person to offer him a ride was a young, fresh-faced witch who had no idea who he was or what he was capable of. Halfway to his destination, he’d slit her throat and used her blood to perform a ceremony he’d long since committed to memory. As he absorbed what remained of her fading magic, his cells had felt alive once more. So he’d done it again and again, until he had enough power to confront the Succubus, Odessa Sullivan.
“Crafty minger,” he muttered.
He’d mistaken her age for weakness, of which, she had little. But he wouldn’t be making that mistake again, all the same. His plan had backfired on his niece Moira, and she’d been burned alive by the Aether.
Loman shuddered. Sure, and for all the times he’d used fire as a weapon, the idea of burning to death was the only thing that gave him nightmares. If Damian Dethridge got ahold of him, he’d not only die in the most excruciating manner possible, his soul would be obliterated to boot.
“And the key is to avoid the Aether until I’ve drained his girl dry,” he murmured. “Then, I’ll be as formidable as that arrogant fecker, I will.”
At the end of the corridor, he stopped in front of Reginald’s cell. Unlike the others, his nephew was sitting on his bed, seemingly uncaring of his surroundings, with a book of poetry in his hands.
“Are you ready to do your part, boyo?”
Reggie glanced up as if he was surprised to see Loman.
“Part?” He placed his index finger between the pages as a bookmark. “Oh, you mean in luring Ronan here?” Pretending to think it over, he finally shook his head. “So sorry, but that’s going to be a hard pass from me.” He opened his book and glanced up one last time to say, “Go bugger yourself, old man.”
Rage exploded in Loman’s brain, but he didn’t strike as he once would’ve. Firstly, Reggie was out of reach for a fist to the face. Secondly, the enchantment encasing the cell would boomerang a bolt or fireball right back at Loman, should he shoot one his nephew’s way.
“Sure, and you should be takin’ care not to rile me, Reginald, me boy. Once I get Ronan’s abilities and that of the girl Aether, I’ll have nothing but time on me hands and a fierce plan to enact revenge on ya.”
“If you get their abilities, you mean.” Reggie flipped a page and shrugged. “It’s highly doubtful you will, despite all the magic you’ve stolen from these unfortunate souls. I can’t see Damian Dethridge allowing you within one hundred feet of his precious daughter.” Another page turned. “Oh, and you may want to check the cell diagonal to mine. That poor bitch has breathed her last breath, I’m afraid.”
Loman spun around, and sure enough, the old witch he’d housed there was on the floor, arms spread wide and eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling.
“Fuck!”
He absolutely hated disposing of bodies, and it was risky to use any of his prisoners to do it.
“You do realize, with as much power as you’re generating here, you won’t be able to keep this place hidden for long, don’t you?” Reggie’s cold-eyed stare caused Loman’s skin to prickle. His nephew had graced him with that same look just before shooting an arrow into his heart a few weeks before.
If only the boy had been more malleable, Loman would’ve gladly involved Reggie in his plan. But he was a wild card. Unpredictable on his best day. Once, the O’Connors had feared Loman, but as time passed and his family witnessed Ronan’s defection, they’d become bolder. Most had struck out on their own, spoiling all his grand plans to destroy the O’Malley clan and retain the power gifted to them by the God Goibhniu.
With a narrow-eyed glare for his nephew, Loman asked, “What are ya yammerin’ on about, boy? Of course, I’ll be keepin’ this place hidden.”
“Do you honestly believe the Aether doesn’t have every possible resource scrying for you? You can cloak this facility, but magic like you’re amassing creates a unique signature, Uncle. Eventually, you’ll be found.”
“For all you know, ya eejit! Sure, and didn’t I build this place months ago when I first walked through the bleedin’ portal?” Loman waved his arms to encompass the entire prison wing. “There will be no signature, because I’ve been buildin’ this place at a steady pace, I have. And I know enough to not be greedy with the getting of magic, all the same.”
Reggie laughed. “Your arrogance will be your downfall. See if it isn’t.”
Loman turned on his heel and stalked away. Partially in anger and partially because Reginald’s words sounded too fecking prophetic for his tastes.
* * *
Anu sauntered into the clearing where her contemporary Isis was gazing into a lake. As she approached, Isis slammed her staff into the earth with a disgruntled huff, causing the ground to quake.
“Are you still unable to find Loman O’Connor, then?”
“I feel like there are others helping to hide him. Demigods perhaps,” Isis replied, disgust and frustration heavy in her tone.
The wind picked up, and the acidic feel in the air prickled along Anu’s bare skin. The fine hairs on her arms danced like live wires. Had she been mortal, it would’ve stung, but those within the Otherworld would only experience a heaviness in the atmosphere.
“The Fates better have a good reason for their mischief in allowing him to escape a second time.” Isis’s amber eyes flashed with her ire. “I’ve half a mind to go over their heads to Ra.”
“Do you think he would intervene on the O’Malleys’ behalf? Or for that of the Aether’s daughter?” Anu cast a troubled glance at the murky water. “It’s troublesome that we are unable to see the final outcome.”
“Indeed.” Isis faced her and sighed heavily. “My father has been in seclusion for centuries, but Set is his second-in-command, and I shall put forth an inquiry through him.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d believe it was a trickster god. But the why of it all eludes me.”
“Yes, this does have an air of mischief. But whoever is playing with the lives of our witches will face my wrath. The hole in the veil needs to be repaired, and soon, or we will have others escaping the holding area just as Loman did.”
“Tell me what we need to do to repair the rift, and I shall see it done,” Anu promised.
“I don’t know yet. And that is the odious part of this. If the souls I’m tasked with watching are able to return to the earthly plane at will, it creates a problem on a greater scale. Timelines will shift and fates will alter.”
“Yet if the Fates are responsible for Loman’s return, they must have an idea of the consequences, no?”
“One would believe so.” Isis gave her a frustrated look. “They are playing a dangerous game, whatever their final design.”
“Aye. They are. Loman O’Connor should never have been allowed to return to the world at large. He’s a bad apple, bound to spoil the entire barrel.”
“Agreed.” Isis gave her a tight smile. “Let us hope Ronan is up to the task of finding his father.”
“Without it costing him more than he’s willing to give,” Anu replied grimly.