The Forbidden

by Cheyenne McCray

  And how much she had enjoyed it.

  After she had passed out, she had woken in their arms. They stroked her, brought her human body back to life with such excitement she had lost herself. Had lost her mind.

  She had been crazy with lust, wanting more, letting them take what they wanted from her. She hadn’t resisted. Rather, she had begged for more.

  Begged.

  She growled low in her throat.

  That complete loss of control, that desire for their dominance, how it infuriated her now. And scared her in ways she had never known.

  Junga was not weak like her father. I am not!

  Yet she wanted them again. Wanted more.

  She was legion leader, a fearless warrior who dominated those beneath her. She could not possibly have these desires to be taken again and again as a human. To be forced into sexual acts by dominant males.

  It is Elizabeth’s essence. That must be it. At my first opportunity, I need another more suitable host, a male this time.

  After that night with Darkwolf and Bane, she had avoided being alone with them. Her needs were too raw, her mind too confused.

  She had never known confusion or self-doubt. Had never known anything but power and confidence.

  Junga snarled. “I should rip your throats out for your failure.”

  Several demons stopped twitching, and genuine fear appeared in the eyes of every Fomorii.

  Again, all but Bane. Somehow he knew she wanted him, and the warlock.

  She should kill the pair before this obsession, this madness, consumed her.

  But first she had to have Bane and Darkwolf once more.

  A shiver rippled beneath her skin, and she only hoped it would be interpreted as anger.

  Her black eyes riveted on Darkwolf. “We are running out of time. Convince these witches. Find a way.”

  “I told you before to leave it to me, but you failed to listen.” The warlock smiled, but it was calculating, cruel. “Some are weakening and soon they will come to me. Come to the dark.”

  Junga shot back, “But you failed in retrieving the prize so dear to you when she was practically in your hands.”

  Darkwolf’s eyes narrowed and she felt his power emanating from him in wave after wave.

  She broke eye contact.

  If she didn’t get the witches to summon another contingent of Fomorii, the Old One, and Queen Kanji soon, Junga would likely be ripped to shreds by the queen’s guard when they were finally summoned.

  “Return to your posts,” Junga said as she dismissed the warriors.

  She fixed her gaze on Za and Bane, her highest commanders. “You two. Stay.”

  Junga kept her look fierce, predatory. She moved toward them as if stalking them like prey. “Take your best warriors, in human form, to search for the witches.”

  Bane and Za bowed. “Yes, ceannaire,” they both said, and departed after she gave a nod of dismissal.

  “Do what you will with the witches,” Junga said to Darkwolf, and turned her gaze from him before she could see his answering expression.

  Junga padded silently across the floor, ignoring Darkwolf. She had enjoyed being human far too much. When she had preyed upon various races in Otherworld, she had never found such extreme pleasure in possessing their bodies. Not Fae, not Shanai, nor other beings. But these humans, pitifully weak as they might be, intrigued her. Their constant desire for sex and the sensitivity of their bodies were enough to make her want to do it all day long.

  What frightened her, though, was the complexity of human emotions. Humans were weaker, inferior. Their emotions ruled them. She couldn’t allow that to happen to her.

  Was it affecting her people, too?

  Junga turned her thoughts to their approaching task, once all Fomorii had been summoned on Samhain. Eventually the Fomorii would control San Francisco’s government, slowly spreading throughout this interesting world as their numbers multiplied.

  She licked her lips. A ready food supply of unwary victims. A species caught unaware. It was the way of the Fomorii. The reason they existed—to conquer lesser forms of life.

  It would indeed be enjoyable.

  16

  Hawk continually kept watch to ensure they were not being followed by the Fomorii. His gut burned at the fact they had only been able to rescue three witches. They should have rescued them all.

  Jake led the four witches, his team, and Hawk around the corner and a few houses down. “The police chief lives here,” Jake explained when he stood on the top step and rang the doorbell.

  Before he even stopped speaking, the door was yanked open and a tall, imposing man stood before them, dressed in full police uniform, including his gun holster.

  He seemed to be searching for something to say as he stared at the group before he finally gestured for them to come in. “Captain Macgregor, welcome.”

  Hair rose at the back of Hawk’s neck. All of his senses told him something was very wrong. “Back away, Jake,” Hawk said as he drew his sword.

  The witches looked confused, but Silver caught his gaze and nodded.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Jake glared at Hawk, then faced the police chief—

  Who now had his gun trained on Jake.

  “Come inside, all of you,” the man said in a growl, “or this one dies.”

  “Fomorii,” Hawk said to Jake. “Your police chief is already dead.”

  “Get them out of here!” Jake reacted so swiftly Silver barely saw him move. He shoved the demon inside the home despite the gun.

  A shot rang in the night air. Jake staggered back. Stumbled down the steps onto the sidewalk. His head slammed onto the concrete.

  One of the women screamed. The Fomorii, in human form, came back to the doorway, gun still in hand. Silver created a spellfire between her hands, flung it at the demon at the same time she dropped into a crouch. Another shot rang out and she felt the vibrations of the bullet as it went over her head.

  The distraction gave Hawk enough time to get close to the Fomorii. He swung his sword in a lightning-fast motion and sliced the demon’s head from his shoulders.

  The body dropped. Slowly it began to shift into the hideous orange demon it had been. In moments it had crumbled into a pile of black silt.

  Hawk’s gaze shot to Jake. Iris and Mackenzie were on their knees beside him. Rhiannon’s hair fell forward into her face as she knelt to help Jake. She tied strips of cloth torn from her robe around Jake’s bicep. Blood seeped through the cloth, but the more strips she put on it, the more the bleeding lessened.

  “The bullet went right through the fleshy part of his arm,” Rhiannon said as she glanced at Hawk. “What’s actually worse is he hit his head on the concrete. Hard. No doubt he has a concussion.”

  Silver slowly ran her hands along Jake’s body and small blue circles and sparkles of light ebbed from her, as if straight from her soul. Hawk could only stand helplessly by. He kept his sword unsheathed as he watched, prepared for any Fomorii that might have followed them. The remaining PSF officers surrounded them, stances wide and guns ready despite their injuries.

  Guns that are useless against the Fomorii.

  Silver gritted her teeth as her energy ebbed and flowed through Jake’s body. Healing was white magic but such deep healing stole strength from her.

  It was her fault so many were injured. Her fault two of the PSF officers had been murdered. If she hadn’t allowed herself to be enthralled by Darkwolf, she would have better protected them and would have gotten additional witches to safety.

  Silver pushed more of her healing energy into Jake. He groaned, squinted, and opened his eyes. “Must have been one hell of a party,” he said, his speech slurred.

  Drained, but determined to make right what was her fault, she went to the other witches who were healing the two injured PSF officers. “You’re hurt,” she told Rhiannon and Mackenzie. “Let me.”

  The witches tried to argue, but Silver pushed them aside. Again she used her heal
ing magic to stop the flow of blood, to help alleviate some of the pain. They would need more attention as soon as they got back to safety, but this would do for now.

  Hawk knelt beside Silver in time to catch her as she slumped back after healing the last officer. “I’m okay,” she said, drawing in a ragged breath. “Just need a second.”

  “We’ll help Silver,” Rhiannon said as Mackenzie moved closer. “You get Jake.”

  When Jake could stand, Hawk helped him walk, Jake’s good arm over Hawk’s shoulder. Rhiannon and Mackenzie assisted Silver even though she tried to insist she was all right. Iris hurried alongside, looking lost and miserable. The PSF team members helped one another and constantly kept on guard against Fomorii.

  They passed several pedestrians who gave them wide-eyed looks. “Police business,” one of the officers shouted, showing a badge he had whipped out of his pocket.

  “My store really isn’t that far from the chief’s house,” Silver said, her heart clenching at the thought of the man who was murdered by the demon. “I think we’re safe to go to the shop now. Even if they know where the store is, the wardings will help.”

  Hawk nodded his agreement. ‘The Fomorii have no magic other than taking over other lifeforms, and should not be able to cross your wardings.”

  A bit of relief eased through Silver. “Once we’re there, our witchcraft will aid us in protecting our sanctuary even further.”

  “Dear Ancestors, I hope you’re right,” Mackenzie murmured.

  “We don’t have anywhere safer,” Silver added.

  By the time they neared the shop. Silver had shaken off the other two witches’ holds, declaring her strength had returned.

  Jake was walking more easily now. “I don’t believe it,” he said, his voice carrying on the evening breeze. “They got Hernandez. He was a damn good man.”

  “Let’s hope they haven’t infiltrated the rest of the police department,” Silver said. “You’re going to have to watch your back.”

  “No kidding.”

  Once they neared the shop, Jake, two PSF officers, and Hawk checked around it from the front to the alleyway to the garage in the rear, while Silver and the remaining officers watched over the other witches. When they signaled it was clear, Jake spoke with his team members. They gave short responses and nods. Two remained at the witches’ insistence for healing, while the others left to retrieve the officers left at Janis’s home.

  The officers, witches, Jake, and Hawk slipped in through the back door and into the kitchen. Safe inside the shop, Silver made sure all three doors were securely locked.

  Due to the healing magic and the gray witchcraft she’d used, Silver could hardly stand, but she put what energy she had into a repel charm to turn any attention away from her shop. It had never failed her until Hawk. She prayed it would work against the Fomorii.

  And Darkwolf.

  Especially Darkwolf.

  When she finished, Silver caught up with Hawk, Jake, the officers, and the other three witches in the kitchen where Cassia was making mingled cries of joy and dismay as she saw the rescued Coven members and all of their scrapes, bruises, and blood.

  “I’ll brew a pain remedy and make some poultices,” Silver said as she limped around the kitchen, grabbing herbs and other ingredients from the cabinets.

  Cassia forced Jake and the others to sit at the kitchen table, then ran to get a bowl of warm water and a few washcloths.

  Spirit darted into the room and straight into Rhiannon’s lap. “Spirit!” Her auburn hair swung forward as she hugged the huge cat. “I missed you, you little monster.”

  The cat mewled and it was obvious he felt the same way. He sniffed at the claw marks across her face and hissed his displeasure before rubbing himself against Rhiannon’s chest.

  Hawk turned to Silver, who was busy preparing poultices. “You need rest.”

  “I’m fine.” She waved him away. “After I finish the potions, and everyone’s taken care of and resting, I’ll lie down. Once I cast extra warding spells. I think we’re going to need all the rest we can get.”

  “I’ll do it right now.” Cassia attended all the doors yet again, then rushed back to help with the healing remedies.

  When Silver had finished a few quick poultices and grabbed a few lodestones as well as creams and oils already made, she moved to the kitchen table. To one lodestone she chanted, “Heal our brother in his time of need. I pray to thee, these words to heed.” She blew her warm breath onto the stone as she asked for the Ancestors’ blessings, then placed it in Jake’s fist. His jaw had been tense, but he relaxed a bit as he clenched the stone.

  Hawk helped her peel away the makeshift bandages and then remove the man’s shirt.

  “The wound is clean,” Hawk pronounced after doing some prodding that made Jake wince.

  Silver cleansed the wound using tea tree oil for an antiseptic, then used “herb Robert” to stop the bleeding, along with chanting words of healing magic.

  Immediately the blood stopped flowing and the wound looked as if it were already mending. Jake watched as though in a dream, as if he were having a hard time focusing as he blinked hard and blinked again.

  When Silver had almost finished wiping away all the blood she could see, Cassia bustled over with more jars and cloths. Scents of chamomile, myrrh, and woodruff followed in her wake.

  Once the major wounds were attended to, the lesser were taken care of. Cassia dabbed blood from Rhiannon’s face with a wet washcloth where the slashes were. She groaned as if the touch of cloth against her skin caused her pain.

  Silver grabbed another lodestone. Quickly, she said the chant of healing to it. Again she blew her warm breath onto the stone as she asked for the Ancestors’ blessings. She reached for Rhiannon and pushed the lodestone into her friend’s palm and clasped her fingers around it.

  Rhiannon sighed, apparent relief flowing through her as her body visibly relaxed against the chair. Silver knew the stone wasn’t enough, but at least it would lessen the pain until her wounds could be healed with a combination of witchcraft and magical remedies.

  While Cassia helped Rhiannon, Silver began tending to Mackenzie and Iris, who had scrapes, bumps, and bruises from their treatment at the hands of the Fomorii.

  “When everyone is finished, put them in a couple of the guest apartments,” Silver said, motioning toward the stairs where the Coven kept apartments ready for guests that came into town from other D’Anu Covens.

  After Silver had done all she could to attend to everyone’s injuries, Hawk wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she sagged gratefully against him. Now that she knew her friends were safe and cared for, Silver’s adrenaline rush dissipated and she felt almost too weak to move at all.

  As if reading her thoughts, Hawk scooped her into his arms, ignoring her protests, and carried her up the stairs and into her own apartment. He took her to her bedroom and laid her gently on the bed.

  “Stay,” he ordered with an intense look in his amber gaze.

  Silver couldn’t have moved if she’d tried.

  A few moments later, he brought back warm, wet cloths, a cleansing solution that smelled of chamomile, and a blanket to cover her with. While he tended to her, Hawk spoke in his deep Irish brogue, in another language that sounded like Gaelic. He talked in low soothing tones that Silver found relaxing. He slipped powdered willow bark between her lips and her mouth puckered at the bitter taste.

  When he finished treating her, and after she had chased Hawk out of her apartment, wanting to be alone, she stripped out of her clothing and climbed into the shower. She ached everywhere and she stunk like the sewer. Everything that had happened over the past few days was taking its toll.

  She couldn’t begin to imagine how Rhiannon or the other witches must be feeling right now after their captivity. On the bright side, if there was one, at least they were witches and wouldn’t take too long to heal. Hopefully her healing magic had worked well enough on Jake and the PSF officers.

&nbs
p; Once she had taken her shower, she slid between the cool sheets, naked. Sleep refused to come to her. The events of the day played over and over in her mind.

  Darkwolf... the pleasure she had felt in the call of the dark witchcraft...

  Silver shook her head, her damp hair clinging to her pillow. But even as she tried to, she couldn’t deny her satisfaction at striking at the demons with all the power she could muster. The almost delicious feeling that had overcome her when a darker magic had joined with hers.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, but that only made the images more intense.

  It was a long time before she was able to sleep. Her dreams were filled with images of a black wolf and a red eye.

  * * *

  Silver was so exhausted that she slept through most of the day. She couldn’t believe it was early evening by the time she made her way downstairs. She was wrapped in one of her silken white robes, and she knew her hair was tousled and her eyes puffy from her disturbed sleep.

  Wondrous smells filled the kitchen and her stomach growled. Baked chicken. Vegetables. And the sweet smell of lemon meringue pie. She hadn’t had a decent meal in days and she was starving.

  “Chicken pot pie,” Cassia announced, as she clasped Silver’s hand and led her to the table where everyone else was sitting and chatting.

  The witches they’d rescued last night looked just as sleep- tousled as Silver, but the two men looked as handsome as ever—including Jake with his bandaged arm. Both appeared to have changed clothing and they all no longer smelled of the sewer.

  Silver greeted everyone with a sleepy smile and a “good afternoon,” and she felt some triumph that they’d at least rescued Rhiannon, Mackenzie, and Iris. They would rescue the rest of the witches, and get rid of the stinking Fomorii, too.

  “The surviving PSF officers have gone to work—or pretended to,” Jake explained. “For now, we’re making excuses for Jameson’s and Sanders’s absences, until we know who we can trust.” He shook his head. “After Chief Hernandez, we’ve got to watch our step. If more demons have infiltrated the force or the city council, we’d be easy targets.”