Exiled

by Nina Croft

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He hunted for some sign that she was genuinely sorry, but her voice, like her expression, remained blank. For the first time, he tried to see how it must have been for her. What she had done.

  How would he have acted if they had killed her? He’d have gone after those responsible, but he wouldn’t have harmed the innocent. Maybe couldn’t have.

  The Laws of Segregation had come about because of what she had done. He’d glimpsed brief flashes of Arroway through his mirror and seen the barren nightmare his once beautiful world had become. Shayla had told him more—how the witches had been persecuted, how the few remaining were castrated at birth, their magic ripped from them, and kept as slaves to the Order.

  Cass had lived all this time believing she bore the blame.

  “How did you survive?” he asked.

  “I shut it all away. You, Malachai, Arroway. I built a wall around it, and I locked it up in a small corner of my mind. I did what I could to help the few who escaped, and I went on, but all the time, I knew I should have died with you.”

  “No.” She ignored his interruption. “I’ve come to realize what a responsibility I was given. I was careless, but I didn’t pay the price— so many others paid because of me. Now, I have the chance to make up for what I did. I won’t jeopardize that.”

  “And being with me would do that?”

  “I won’t take the risk.” Maybe not now, but give him time and he’d persuade her. “So why are you here?”

  “We needed to talk...” She shrugged, the movement almost helpless. “And I thought perhaps we could be friends.”

  Never.

  “Perhaps we can. Wouldn’t that be nice?” She didn’t seem to appreciate his sarcasm.

  “Good. There’s a meeting downstairs in a few minutes. Get changed and join us.” He reckoned she’d gotten way too used to people doing what she told them. For now, he’d let her keep the illusion he was compliant. “I’ll be there.” He wouldn’t give up. She built a wall around her feelings.

  Now, all he had to do was smash it down.

  Chapter Four

  Cass leaned against the window ledge, her arms folded across her chest, and surveyed the small group. She’d spent too much time with men from this world; she’d forgotten the intense power of a warlock.

  And here were three of the most formidable to ever come out of Arroway—Tallon, Jarrod, and Callum—so much controlled energy.All tall, but that was the only similarity. Tallon was paleskinned with black hair hanging in an untamed tangle to his shoulders. His eyes were the purple of the evening skies above Arroway. His long, lean body radiated an almost palpable tension like some big jungle cat always ready to pounce. He’d been the Enforcer for the Order, responsible for hunting down their enemies. The long black coat he wore did nothing to conceal the knife strapped to his thigh. She’d have to have a word with him about wearing weapons on Earth.

  Jarrod was the most civilized in appearance, his figure relaxed and at ease. He’d always been laid-back, a total contrast to Cass when they were growing up. His dark red hair was cut close to his head and his green eyes held a mocking glint. He appeared...

  happy. He wore his Earth clothes with a casual elegance.

  Then there was Callum.

  She’d been avoiding observing Callum too closely, now she turned her head a little so she could study him. It was a little like being punched in the solar plexus. Again. He’d always had that effect on her; he was the most beautiful man she had ever known.

  He wore his fair hair pulled back in a ponytail, revealing his face with his high cheekbones and full, passionate mouth. He’d dressed in the clothes she had given him: black jeans and a black T-shirt stretched taut over his broad shoulders and revealed the muscles of his arms. He held a rowan staff loosely in his right hand, twirling the wood between his finger and thumb. His gray eyes were somber as he caught her gaze, and an ache welled up in her heart. She glanced away; she couldn’t allow herself to weaken.

  Instead, she turned her attention to the witches.

  Freya, Shayla, and herself. So much raw magic.

  Shayla sat close to Tallon, their thighs touching. Freya stood behind Jarrod her hand resting on his shoulder. Only Callum sat alone. His face was expressionless, but for all his calm acceptance of her words earlier, she knew he was hurting. How could she not? Once they had performed the choosing ceremony, she had always sensed his feelings. Now, however much she closed herself off, his pain filtered through.

  But soon he would be gone. Back to Arroway. They would all be gone, except for Cass. She would remain here in her exile on Earth, as she had done for so long. There was no place for her on Arroway. The land would not forgive her betrayal.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself up and paced the length of the room a couple of times, trying to ease the restlessness gnawing at her insides. She wanted this over with.

  “So,” she said, turning back to face them, “let’s find out what we know. Who’s going first?” Shayla rose to her feet. “This is what we’ve pieced together from the information we have. After you...” She trailed off.

  Well, this was a good start. Cass hoped to hell they weren’t going to pussyfoot around her like she was easily offended or something. Was she so intimidating? “After I what?” Cass prompted.

  “Just say it.” Shayla shrugged. “After you did your spell all those years ago and nearly destroyed Arroway, the Goddess intervened. She managed to stop the destruction, but she must have been weakened.

  Malachai placed her in the chamber in the tower at the Keep.”

  “Did he plan all this then?” Callum asked. “Was it his intention from the start to imprison the Goddess?”

  “We don’t think so. He couldn’t have known what Casterix would do. We think he meant to keep the Goddess safe until she recovered her strength, but as time went on and he implemented the Laws of Segregation things got a little complicated for him.”

  “I’ll bet they did,” Cass said. “He must have known she wouldn’t support him.”

  “Exactly. So he kept her in an enchanted sleep, using the magic he stole from the witches.”

  “Bastard,” Cass snarled.

  “It’s good to see your language hasn’t improved with age,” Jarrod said.

  “Piss off.” He laughed.

  “When we were escaping from the Keep,” Freya continued, “I saw her in the North tower. The enchantment is failing and she woke briefly. She told me Arroway is dying.”

  “Well, tell us something we don’t know.”

  “Cass?” Jarrod said.

  “What?”

  “Stop interrupting.” She clamped her lips together.

  “The goddess also told me I must bring together the three witches with the mark in order to free her. Then she gave me back the magic stolen from me at birth.” Freya raised her hand briefly to touch the mark on her cheek.

  “She came to me in a vision,” Shayla added, “while I was stuck in Callum’s half world, and told me the same. I must bring together the three witches or Arroway would die.”

  “Well, it’s done. Here we are all together,” Cass said. “So what happens next?”

  “We all go back to Arroway, of course.”

  “I don’t think so.” Shayla shifted to stand in front of Cass, hands on her hips, brows drawn together. “We have no choice.” Of course, they had a choice. There was always a choice; they just had to find out what their choices were. “You could go in, get her, bring her back, and we can do the three-witches-with-themark bit here.”

  “You know that won’t work. We have no magic here. We must all return to Arroway and stand before the Goddess together.” Cass shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans and tried to stare the young witch down. Shayla didn’t even flinch and Cass tried a different approach. “Have you any clue what happened last time I stood on Arroway? The whole fucking world nearly came to an end—that’s what happened.”

  “We get th
at you’re scared, Cass,” Jarrod said.

  “I’m not scared,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

  “Then why not go back?” Callum’s question was softly spoken. “Don’t you want to go home?” She allowed herself a quick peek in his direction, and a wild longing rose up inside her for the way things had been. She turned away and paced the room. She’d believed she would never go back. Without a warlock’s help, she didn’t have the power to return and it had always seemed impossible. But now she had three of the most powerful warlocks ever to come out of Arroway.

  There was nothing to stop her returning except her own fears.

  All those years ago, Arroway had rejected her. The land was hardly likely to welcome her back now. Or could this be a means of redemption? Was this what she had to do to gain forgiveness for her actions? Trouble was, deep down, she knew what she had done went way beyond forgiveness.

  She paused to stare out of the window, down to the streets far below. She had the feeling things were out of control, racing ahead of her, and she hated that. Learning how to keep a strict control of every facet of her life was how she’d survived for so long. And it had been a hard lesson.

  But to go home. To walk once more beneath the crimson moons.

  And did she really have a choice? Shayla was right. They needed to stand before the Goddess. She could sense the weight of their stares, their eyes boring into her back and she turned slowly.

  “When do we go?” Jarrod nodded his approval. “Three days from now will be the time of the witches’ moons on Arroway; the moon magic will be at its strongest.”

  “Which gives us three days to plan.” She crossed the room and flung herself down onto the sofa beside Jarrod. “So how do we do this then?” Somehow, they had to return to Arroway, get into the Keep— the very stronghold of the Order—reach the tower, and wake the Goddess.

  Should be easy. Not.

  First things first. Returning to Arroway.

  “Will Malachai be waiting for us?” she asked. “Can we expect a welcoming committee when we arrive back? He has to be, right? He must know we’ll try and rescue the Goddess.”

  “Maybe,” Jarrod said. “But if Malachai has a weakness, it’s that he cannot understand any other motivation than his own.”

  “Which is?”

  “Power,” Jarrod said.

  “And I would think right now—his own survival,” Tallon added. “He must know if this gets out then his life is worthless.

  He’ll be trying to find a way to make the portal work for him. Is there any chance he’ll succeed?” Cass thought it unlikely. “It was only ever the witches who had the knowledge to open the portals.”

  “Yes, but now he’s steeped in moon magic. Maybe it changes things.” She frowned—that didn’t make any sense. “He has the moon magic—how?”

  “My guess is he’s been bolstering his power from the witches he breeds, using part of their magic to strengthen the enchantment spell but the rest to increase his own powers.”

  “Shit. The bastard.” Shayla whispered something to Tallon and he frowned then shrugged though he didn’t appear happy. “There’s something you need to know,” he said.

  “And that is?”

  “Malachai is my father.”

  “What?” Jarrod asked and Cass could hear her own shock reflected in Jarrod’s question.

  “He told me it was why he didn’t have me killed straightaway. It might be of use.”

  “Maybe,” Callum said. “But I’m guessing he’s written you off by now. Your last meeting hardly ended on a friendly note.” Cass nudged Jarrod. “Hey, that makes him your father-inlaw.”“Thanks.”

  “So we go in,” Tallon said, “expecting some sort of ambush, we kill them, make our way to the Keep, find the Goddess, wake her up, and we’re done.”

  “I suspect getting in to the tower will prove the hardest part,” Jarrod replied. “Are there any in the Order who would help us.”

  “Perhaps, if we can show them proof.”

  “The pleasure slaves might help,” Freya said.

  “And what are they going to do?” Cass asked. “Bite off a few warlock dicks?” Tallon winced.

  “You can be a real bitch, you know that?” Jarrod said.

  She smiled sweetly. “Yes.” Freya merely grinned. “What a great idea. We could synchronize it. But I was thinking they could get us through the Keep.

  They move freely about the place and no one really notices them.”

  “Maybe we could all go in disguised as pleasure slaves,” Shayla suggested.

  Cass didn’t like the idea, but she could see its merits.

  “That might work,” Freya said. “Or at least I can go in first and speak to them, see if they can help.” They talked backward and forward, and Cass found her mind drifting. For so long, she had felt solely responsible for everything; it was strange to have others to make decisions.

  She turned her head slightly and found Callum watching her.

  Now, she had even more reason to keep him at a distance. She was going back to Arroway; she couldn’t let her feelings get in the way of what she had to do.

  She was going home.

  Chapter Five

  “The moon magic lives inside you. It’s always there. You need to learn how to call it, work with it.”

  “But how?” Shayla asked.

  Shayla had grown up in a world where no one remained to show her the way. When Cass had been born, there had been an Order of Witches just as there was now an Order of Warlocks.

  It had been disbanded when the Laws of Segregation had been introduced. By the time Shayla was born, the witches had all but been eradicated from Arroway. Either slaughtered by the Order, escaped to this world, or reduced to empty vessels whose only purpose was to kneel before the warlocks and produce more witches for the Order to mutilate.

  Bastards.

  The anger rose in her again, and she had to force it down. She couldn’t afford emotions. She made bad choices when she gave in to emotions.

  Her own powers had manifested at an early age, and when it had become clear exactly how powerful she was going to be, her training had been taken over by the Order of Witches. She’d been taught from an early age how to channel her magic, and ironically, how to ensure she stayed in control. In the end, the training had been for nothing. But her temper had always been her weak-est point. She suspected Shayla shared that trait with her. Shayla was her niece, after all.

  “You need to learn how to become partners with the magic instead of allowing it to rule you.” They were seated cross-legged on the floor in one of the training rooms down in the basement. It was the day after Shayla’s return from Arroway and their third session together. It kept Cass busy and stopped her from thinking too much. Or that was the plan, though she found her thoughts straying to Callum at the oddest of moments. He refused to stay out of her mind. She shook her head and forced herself to concentrate on the matter in hand.

  “Visualize it as a flame deep inside you; feel it burn. Remember it’s moon magic, but also blood magic, trace it through the blood that pulses in your veins.” Closing her eyes, she found the source of her own magic in the very center of her being. As usual, here on Earth, her magic slept. She nudged gently, waking it, and immediately felt the power respond. Raising her right hand, she fed the magic through her body. She drove it with the pulse of her heart, along her veins to her hand. Small scarlet flames alighted from her fingertips.

  “Ahh,” Freya whispered.

  Cass snapped out the flames and lowered her hand. “Party tricks, that’s all we can do here on this world. But the principle is the same. Now try.” For the next hour, they tried. Strangely, Freya gained control first. Freya who had had her magic torn from her at birth and only returned by the Goddess recently. Soon she held a small flame in the palm of her hand.

  Shayla scowled. Everything was a battle for Shayla.

  “Stop fighting it,” Cass told her.

  “I’m not.”
<
br />   “You are,” Freya said. “Relax, baby.” She began to sing, an old lullaby from Arroway. The lines smoothed from Shayla’s face, and she gave a slow smile. Closing her eyes as Freya continued to sing, she held out her hand.

  Cass could see the concentration on her small face. As the minutes passed, her brows drew together, her mouth turned down in a frown. Finally, her whole hand burst into flames.

  “Shit,” she yelped. “Ow.” Cass reached out and extinguished the fire with a thought.

  “Perhaps we should stop there for the day.”

  “But what can we do with it?” Shayla asked, staring at her undamaged hand. “Will you show us?”

  “Here—very little.” She thought for a moment. Then reached out and flicked off the lights with her mind. Then back on. She shifted a chair across the room, raising it from the ground and then setting it gently down. “I’ve also used it for fighting.”

  “How?” Actually, the fighting might be useful for when they returned to Arroway. They were probably going to walk straight into an ambush; the more of their group who could fight back, the more likely they would be to last more than thirty seconds.

  It wasn’t even as though they could avoid the ambush. They had no choice but to appear at exactly the spot Malachai would expect them to.

  She jumped to her feet. “Okay, fighting. You need to send the magic to wherever will be the point of contact. It’s more effective if you know the moves.”

  “The moves?” Freya asked.

  “I’ve studied most of the types of fighting on this world.”

  “I made sure Shayla learned to fight from an early age,” Freya offered.

  Cass guessed Freya had wanted to make her daughter strong so she would never be a victim as Freya had been.

  “Good, well that would be a starting point.” She glanced around the room, searching for some way to give a demonstration. A prickle of awareness down her spine told her they were no longer alone, and she turned slowly to face the door.