Waters of Oblivion

Chapter 27.1: The Racetrack

Two will come,

They'll break your heart.

Can never be together

Nor apart.

When you meet the final hour,

They will find infinite power.

"What does it mean?" Reine repeated Sylvana's ominous words as they sped south in the Rolls, away from Scoby Castle and the dislocated spirits of other immortals.

Morgan reached across the seat and patted her hand. "No idea, love. I've been goin' over it in my head, too, but it's just a bunch o' bollocks. I mean, how much more infinite power could someone get than immortality? But if the prediction's referrin' to Max and Gabe, then they wouldn't even gain that through yer death. I don't care what they say, gypsies don't have the proper skills for witchcraft. Just a pretender she is! Always hated that bitch and now I know why."

Reine squeezed Morgan's hand in a show of solidarity. "I felt something, too. Something bad the moment I first saw her. She's got nothing on a Pendle, that's for sure." She smiled before cocking an eyebrow. "Which reminds me . . . what other useful talents have you been hiding from us, Miss Morgan?"

"Nothing else I can reveal in polite company, darlin'," she said and the young women both giggled at the insinuation, temporarily ignoring the darkness surrounding them.

When they regained their composure, Reine turned the conversation serious again. "I'm actually glad that you wanted to ride back with me because I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Sure, honey. What is it?"

"Well, Greer mentioned back at her party that there used to be someone even older than Emery Wescott. Someone who had the first right to lead the Order, but he disappeared and that's how Wescott got the job. Do you know anything about who that was?" she asked.

Morgan slowly nodded and her lips twisted into a mischievous smile. Her eyes practically sparkled as she began the story. "Oh, yes. I've heard the gossip. The juiciest ones travel the best, ya know. Word is the good ole Mrs. Wescott - well before she became Mrs. Wescott, ya know - was involved with a Roman general. He was a tough old soldier who'd been in the Isles since Hadrian's time. They'd had a right hot affair, but when the previous head of the Order kicked the bucket thanks to too much gin mixed with too much stupid, the Roman refused to step into the position. Don't know what exactly happened, but pretty soon Greer was with Wescott, who was now head immortal, and the other poor bugger was nowhere to be found."

Reine's eyes widened, and she almost whispered the question on the tip of her tongue. "Do you think Wescott had him killed to take over the Order?"

Morgan shrugged. "Anything's possible. Yeah, I wouldn't put it past him."

They both sat in silence, each contemplating this realization in her own way. The scenery remained mostly unchanged until the car unexpectedly began to exit the highway. Looking around to see where they were, Reine noticed the rest of their convoy wasn't with them.

"I thought we were going back to London," she said, glancing at Morgan.

"What? We're not?" The girl asked as she leaned closer to her window and peered out at the flat, English countryside.

Reine shook her head. "You're a terrible actress. You knew we were taking a detour, didn't you?" she asked just as the car turned at a stop sign and headed toward a stadium-like structure.

The girl pursed her lips in a playful admission of guilt. "After you see the reason, I don't think you'll mind." She finally smiled.

"Really? You're going to continue being secretive?" Reine rolled her eyes as they pulled into a half-empty parking lot. She didn't press any further because a few seconds later, the car stopped and the door on her side opened.