Free Vanquished by Nancy Holder, Debbie Viguié

feel them?” Soleil asked as they entered a gently illuminated room.
    Skye nodded. Deep, powerful vibrations were thrumming through her. A statue of the Virgin Mary crushed a serpent beneath her feet. What had been lost to White magick was that the Lady had taken evil on, and won. The Mother had not stayed neutral, and Skye now believed—no, she knew —that in the battle to come, the Goddess would actively fight.
    A single candle glowed on a table in front of the three, and she focused on the light. The Circuit was a loose alliance of witches who had decided that going underground was the wrong choice in a world gone mad. Skye had been in and out of contact with them for a while, but she wasn’t an actual member. She was a hunter, and they viewed her hunting team as her coven. Skye couldn’t help but smile slightly as she wondered what Jamie would have to say about that.
    “We’ll be back soon,” Lune told her, as the two disappeared through a door. A few minutes later they reappeared in long white hooded robes embroidered with silver crescents and golden pentagrams. Lune carried an identical robe in her arms.
    “They’ll see you now,” Lune said. “Put this on.”
    Together Soleil and Lune helped Skye into the heavy robe. Her friends raised their hoods over their hair; Skye did the same, and followed them slowly across the threshold.
    Six or seven hooded women ringed the stone altar, which was covered with pink roses, rose quartz, and five white candles arranged in a pentagram. An illuminated Book of Spells lay open before a statue of Diana, Goddess of the Hunt. Her bow was notched with an arrow; the string was pulled back tightly. Diana had sighted her quarry.
    The High Priestess spread her arms in greeting. The woman’s papery skin was heavily lined, but her bright blue eyes crackled with energy. She regarded Skye for a moment. A charge skittered down Skye’s spine, and she felt as if the other witch were reading her soul.
    “Skye of Salamanca, blessed be,” the High Priestess said.
    “Blessed be,” the other witches—including Soleil and Lune—echoed.
    “Blessed be,” Skye said. “Merrily met.”
    The High Priestess shook her head. “Not merrily, little one.” She waved her hand above the altar. A clutch of carved stones materialized in front of the Book of Spells. “The runes have been cast thirteen times thirteen for the last fortnight.”
    “What do they foretell?” Skye asked, gazing at them.
    A deep sigh echoed throughout the room. It seemed to Skye that, in the flickering flames, the statue of Diana raised her bow slightly, as if to refine her aim.
    Then the statue loosed her arrow, and it arced toward the ceiling. A shower of bright white stars burst into flame, then assumed a shape—
    The shape of a bat.
    Then larger stars appeared, exploded, and formed a larger bat that consumed the smaller.
    “The Vampire Nation will fall. And the Vampire Kingdom will rise,” said the High Priestess. “Every human death, every vampire victory—these are merely portents for what is to come later. And it will be worse.”
    “So we have to stop it,” Skye said. She looked at the hooded women. “We have to stop it now !” Her voice came out as a bellow, and echoed against the stones. The torches flickered. And a low wind wound its way through the room.
    She hunched her shoulders, cringing at the way she had just spoken to the High Priestess. She was about to apologize, when the old woman spoke again.
    “We have a question,” the High Priestess said. “And you are here to help us answer it.”
    “Me?” Skye said. “How?” But she had a feeling that she already knew the answer.
    “We here have worked in secret, behind the scenes. We’ve seen much, but not all. But you have been on the front line of this war.”
    “You’ve been a symbol of inspiration,” said one of the other witches.
    “Or damnation,” said another.
    “We’ve cast spells to strengthen and protect humanity. But we