Junga and the bastard Darkwolf had vanished into waiting vehicles. The cars’ wheels screeched across the pier’s asphalt as they shot into the night. Two more vehicles tore after those.
“Hold,” Hawk ordered the D’Danann before they could follow. When everyone landed on the pier he said, “We will fight the bastards when the time is right.”
The Fomorii that died had turned to dirt. The lone murdered D’Danann’s soul had returned to Summerland, a silver sparkle that rode between worlds.
The only body was that of the PSF officer, and her furious team members cared for the body.
The witches, Jake, the PSF team, and the D’Danann spent the next hour cleansing the ship of all blood and silt and trying to repair what damage they could.
Exhaustion was a physical weight on Silver’s body when the sorcery fled her. A headache pierced her skull and she could barely hold her head up while she helped with the cleanup effort.
When Mackenzie cleansed a bloodied railing beside Silver, she paused in her movements and said, “The magic you used—you—it was—” Mackenzie clearly struggled for words to express herself. She bit her lower lip, then continued, “It was too much, Silver. It was full of rage.”
Silver’s head shot up and she clenched her teeth as she glared at Mackenzie. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She whirled, turning her back on her friend, and went to another part of the boat where she could work alone.
Not much later, Cassia approached and watched Silver, for a moment saying nothing. When she spoke, her words weren’t welcome.
“What you did, Silver. It was not gray magic. You stepped over the line,” Cassia said, “and I fear you won’t be able to step back. Don’t allow sorcery to consume you.”
Silver shoved herself away from the deck she’d been scrubbing. “Leave me alone,” was all she said before stalking away to get as far from everyone as possible. She shoved her way past Eric, hugging herself, trying not to let tears fall.
It was too much. All too much.
She had killed.
Again.
Did they think she didn’t care?
Did they think she didn’t know?
Damn it, she was standing on the edge of a very steep cliff. Nobody knew that better than she.
Whatever the opinions of the witches or the D’Danann, they all stayed well clear of her for a few hours.
By the time the cleanup effort was finished, the sky had grown lighter with the false dawn, the time between the depths of night and true dawn. Fog rolled in thick across the bay, and Silver shivered at the eerier-than-normal quality of the heavy mist.
It made her think of the mist Darkwolf had forced into her thoughts when she was so open to the dark.
So far over the edge, just as Mackenzie and Cassia had said.
Her gut began to grow heavy, and she fought back the bile rising in her throat.
Her head hurt. Her body ached. Her mind—the scenes played over and over and over in her head until she was almost crazy from them.
What have I done? Is it too late?
Shivers racked her, and she sat down on the far end of the scrubbed decks and hugged herself again.
Maybe it was too late for her, but the killing had been necessary. It was necessary, damn it!
But, would she do it all again if she had to?
Silver shivered again. Her teeth clenched and her eyes narrowed.
Yes.
The answer is yes.
32
The moment they returned to the shop and entered the kitchen, Silver bolted for the stainless steel sink and retched. She couldn’t stop the dry heaves that racked her body when she had nothing left to throw up.
Dear Ancestors. She’d helped to murder those bastards and she had taken pleasure in seeing them pass from this world.
Again. Again. Again.
And the worst thought that kept slamming within her head since that moment on the boat—she would do it all over if she had to.
Darkwolf...the power he’d had over her made her even more ill. How could he have such a seductive pull on her when he was nothing short of evil? How could she have been drawn to him so?
What if that demon—Junga—spent her anger on Silver’s parents now, no matter how much the bitch needed them?
“I’m sorry, a thaisce’.” Hawk wrapped his arm around her as she bent over the sink, and kissed the side of her head. He didn’t seem to mind the horrible acidic smell in the sink, or the mess she’d made.
He’d no doubt seen far worse.
The thought made Silver retch again, and she felt faint enough to drop to the floor. Hawk’s arm steadied her.
After a couple of minutes she raised her head, stood, and turned on the water. She cupped her hands and washed out her mouth with the cool fluid, more than once. With a shaking hand she cleansed the sink with the spray nozzle.
Vaguely she was aware of Sher, Keir, and Jake now crowding the shop’s kitchen. Cassia was bustling about with healing herbs, creams, and oils, tending to those who needed it.
Mackenzie and Eric helped Cassia while Iris sat at the table, sheet-white. The witch appeared intimidated by everything.
Hawk kept his hold on Silver as she grabbed a clean towel from a hook on the wall to dry her face. She welcomed his support, needed it. When she finished, she leaned into him. No matter that his clothes carried the Fomorii stench, the smell of battle and sweat, she could still catch his masculine scent beneath it all.
He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s clean up. Then I am going to get you to bed.”
“You, too.” She felt grimy. Covered with dirt and blood. “You need your rest.”
“Mmmm,” he murmured, a noncommittal sound.
“Is Silver all right?” came Mackenzie’s voice from behind.
“I’ll take care of her,” Hawk said.
Mackenzie went back to assist the others with the healing. She began helping Jake, washing the blood and gore from him.
Mortimer peeked out of Cassia’s jacket pocket. Janis’s mouse familiar’s tiny black eyes stared directly at Silver. As if judging her. Convicting her.
Silver tried to ignore the familiar’s stare and leaned against Hawk as they made their way upstairs to her own apartment.
She shuddered as she thought of the battle, the dead Fomorii, the D’Danann, and the PSF officer. She almost threw up again.
Hawk took her straight to the bathroom.
“How about a bath instead of a shower?” he asked as he reached for the faucet.
Silver gave him a tired nod. “Sounds wonderful.”
After turning on the tap to fill the claw-footed tub with warm water, Hawk helped Silver strip out of her filthy outfit. When she was naked, she reached up and kissed him. It was a feather-soft kiss, and when she drew back he had a smile that turned her inside out. For that moment she could forget about everything that had happened, and just be with him.
A gift from the goddess, the distraction. Otherwise, she might have lost her mind.
He felt so good under her hands as she helped him remove his sling and clothing, taking care not to hurt his broken arm or dampen the cast. When they were both naked, they slipped into the narrow tub. Silver turned off the water.
Steam rose from the surface. The water felt so warm and welcome that she sighed and melted against Hawk as he sat behind her. He wrapped his good arm around her waist and braced his cast on the side of the porcelain tub. When she leaned against his chest, she sank further into him.
“I want to stay like this forever,” she murmured. If only she could forget everything that had happened. But even as she tried to relax in Hawk’s embrace, his naked skin next to hers, she couldn’t put all the horrors out of her thoughts. Couldn’t quite force Darkwolf’s image from her mind.
“Just be easy.” Hawk nuzzled her hair before taking the clip out and letting the mass tumble down his chest. He set aside the clip and picked up the blue cup that perched on the
vanity table beside the bathtub. As she rested against him, he poured water from the tub onto her hair, letting the warmth seep through the wet strands to her scalp.
“That feels so good,” she murmured, her lids heavy. If she closed her eyes for only a moment, she was sure to fall asleep.
When he reached for the shampoo, she reached with him and squirted some of the lily-scented liquid onto his palm. With one hand he managed to soap her hair from her scalp all the way down to the ends.
“Such beautiful hair.” His fingertips massaged her nape. “Like starlight and the moon’s glow on the clearest of nights.”
His voice made her heart tug in a way she couldn’t define.
“Turn on the water.” He leaned forward and she moved with him as he placed the cup under the tap. He poured water over her hair as it ran from the spout, carefully rinsing out her hair until all the shampoo was gone.
When he began to wash her body with a sponge and lily- scented soap, he said, “Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?”
A long pause before Silver could speak. “My mother and father, in the hands of those beasts.” She blinked back tears. “What if that Junga demon has already killed them?”
Hawk continued soaping her as he spoke. “I don’t believe she would be that rash, bitch that she is.”
“I pray to all the Ancestors you’re right.” Silver gave a long, shuddering sigh. “I’m not sure I know how to deal with killing any kind of being, Hawk. I don’t know if I ever will be able to accept that I have. Witches believe that whatever we do will come back to us threefold.”
She swallowed hard before continuing. “I’m afraid, Hawk. I’m afraid for my family. I’m afraid for my Coven. What if my killings bring death to those around me? Or ill fortune to our endeavor? The universe can be so cruel. When it balances—well, mercy and pity aren’t much in the equation.”
He stopped washing her, slipped his arm around her slick body, and held her tight. “It was your only choice. Many could have died if not for you. You could have died. Perhaps the grief and guilt growing in your spirit is the balance.”
Silver bit her lower lip and couldn’t talk for one long moment. So many emotions whirled through her that she could hardly think straight. What price would be extracted from her when this was all over?
Whatever you send out into the universe, Silver, will come back to you threefold.
When would the payment be called due? Now? Next week? A year?
But it would come due. And it wouldn’t be as simple as guilt and grief, as much as she would like to believe that.
Silver buried her face in her wet hands. Tears came hot and fast and her body shook with the force of her sobs.
Hawk held her tight, his cheek against her wet hair, his body enveloping hers. She cried until she couldn’t cry anymore.
33
Junga trembled with both fury and fear as she knelt before Queen Kanji in Elizabeth’s penthouse suite. Both were in their Fomorii form, as the queen had ordered.
Junga kept her head and eyes lowered, her body still. Not only for protocol, but to avoid the queen observing Junga’s churning emotions in her expression.
“Daughter of Kae, like your father you are nothing but a disappointment,” the queen rumbled in the Fomorii tongue, her tone filled with disgust as she spoke to Junga.
“Such a simple task,” she went on. “Wipe out the miserable D’Danann and capture the witches you lost. And Silver Ashcroft—because of you she got away. Our warriors doubled the D’Danann ranks, yet we lost more than they. What do you have to say?”
It took great effort for Junga to keep her head bowed and her claws still. “You are right, of course, my queen.”
“Not only did you fail this night, but you have continuously done so since your arrival.” The queen snorted. “You failed to bring the Old One and we now have no one to speak directly with Balor. Not even Darkwolf has the powers she wields.”
Junga clenched her jaw and her fists. If only she dared challenge the queen and rip her throat out. Junga would be more than legion leader then, and no one would dare challenge her.
But the queen’s thick, thick hide protected her too well. Perhaps in her weaker human form, when the queen was at her most vulnerable.
If only Junga dared.
“Rise,” the queen ordered.
Junga eased to stand firmly on all four limbs. She clenched her massive jaw tighter and fought to keep her eyes from showing her hate.
“Take your inferior human form,” the queen said. “Return to the ballroom and speak to the witch parents of Silver Ashcroft. Convince them to help—whatever it takes.”
Junga slowly shifted into human form until she towered over the queen. She was tempted to rub the back of her neck where D’Danann talons had torn the flesh, but it had healed. Once she had shifted into a demon, the wounds vanished.
Apparently the queen didn’t like having to look up at Junga. Kanji growled and transformed into her human form. Features shifted. Claws retracted. She rose to stand on two feet.
The beautiful blonde woman again stared at Junga eye to eye. The knowledge in Kanji’s expression made Junga’s belly twist. How Darkwolf and the queen had whipped and taken her and how she had enjoyed it…
Balor, please help me.
Junga lowered her eyes again to keep her emotions hidden.
“Perhaps you need another lesson in obedience,” Kanji said, and Junga’s gaze shot up to meet the queen’s. Kanji’s eyes casually glanced at where the hook was still jutting from the wall before looking back to Junga.
Heat flushed Junga’s human cheeks.
Kanji’s voice lowered to a growl. “You’re nothing but a little slave-bitch. I should replace you immediately with one of those who do not enjoy submission.”
Junga kept her fists from clenching and gave a bow from her shoulders. “I will see to the witches now.”
With a wave of her elegant hand, Kanji urged Junga to leave her. “Go. Now.”
The queen casually reclined on one of the sumptuous couches and watched Junga with what looked like mirth in her eyes.
Junga left the queen in the large suite that had once been Elizabeth’s. The suite where she had been erotically punished by Kanji and Darkwolf.
She shook it off, raised her chin and took the elevator to the lobby. When the bell dinged, she exited and strode to the ballroom where all the witches were still kept captive.
When she walked through the double doors of the ballroom, she stormed past the guards to where Victor and Moondust Ashcroft were propped against the wall behind the force field. Moondust rested her head on Victor’s shoulder, her eyes closed, her face drawn and pinched.
Junga took a deep breath and composed her features so that she appeared cool and confident when she reached the Ashcrofts.
Both looked exhausted and filthy from their days of captivity. All the captives had been well fed with human foods, and allowed to use the restroom facilities one at a time with their hands bound behind their backs. A pleasant discovery had been that they could not perform magic while bound.
“You are running out of time,” Junga said to the Ashcrofts.
Moondust opened her eyes, lifted her head, and met Junga’s gaze head-on. In that moment, she no longer looked tired. She appeared as vibrant as the day she had been captured.
Junga gnashed her teeth.
“You will receive no help from Victor or myself,” Moondust said in a soothing voice that made Junga want to claw her eyes out.
Victor’s face reddened, and Junga could tell his control was tenuous. “We will die before performing black witchcraft for you or anyone else.”
Irritation clenched Junga’s belly, but she held it in check. Instead she tapped her chin with one long fingernail, as if the witches’ lives meant nothing to her.
It irked her to no end that she needed these powerful beings to bring the tremendous number of demons remaining in Underworld to this world. If only Fomorii had the
power to summon through host bodies. Then they could kill the witches, take over their bodies and minds, and be done with it.
“You have no choice,” Junga said with her best haughty smile. “Your daughter will die if you do not.”
Victor’s face paled for a fraction of a second before he recovered himself. He snorted, an arrogant tilt to his head. “You need her too badly. You will not kill her.”
Narrowing her eyes, Junga stepped forward. Her needle- sharp teeth elongated and nearly punctured her lower lip. Her claws slipped from her human fingers and dug into her palms, deep enough that warm blood trickled down the soft flesh, but she was too furious to feel the pain.
“Trust me,” Junga said. “If I do not get cooperation from either of you, or Silver, I have no problem feeding the lot of you to my warriors.”
Victor’s face turned a deeper shade of purple. Despite his bravado, she had seen the fear for his daughter. “Do what you will,” he finally said, but she heard the slightest waver in his voice. “Do what you will.”
Junga straightened and gave them Elizabeth’s smirk. “Come tomorrow night, be prepared.”
Bloodlust and hunger burned in Junga’s chest. She turned, cast a look back over her shoulder, and gave a wicked smile as an appealing thought came to her. She focused on the Ashcrofts again. “For every time you refuse me, I will eat one apprentice or lesser witch.”
Moondust sucked in her breath, her eyes widening as Victor’s color deepened.
But the male witch only said, “We never, ever, compromise with evil.”
“Fine,” Junga snarled and straightened her black suit—one of many from Elizabeth’s closet. “In the meantime simply to show you my sincerity, I will dine on one of your apprentice witches now.”
“No!” Moondust cried, horror twisting her pale features.
If Victor turned any more purple than he already was, he was sure to have heart failure.
Junga simply smiled and gave a soft laugh before she shifted into her demon form and dropped to all fours. She slowly padded across the ballroom to one of the apprentice witches, one with little power according to the warlock priest. Junga was hungry and ready for a good meal. This plump witch on the end would be perfect.
The Forbidden Page 33