Leda hadn’t heard from Samantha at all. Septimus swore he put her on his plane and sent her to Seattle, and his vampires promised they’d dropped her off in front of Amber’s house the morning Hunter and Adrian had disappeared. The only conclusion to draw was that she’d disappeared with Adrian and Hunter.
If Leda hadn’t been so anxious for Hunter, Samantha, and the other Immortals, she would have found the work she did with Amber and Christine exhilarating. It had been a long time since she’d been able to pool ideas and magic workings with witches who were on the same level as she was.
Amber had incredible magic, which was based in stones and the bones of the earth. She could easily find and tap into any ley line, whereas Leda always had to search for ley lines, sometimes without success.
Christine had an interesting affinity for water magic. She was almost blind to magic when she wasn’t touching water, but once she did, she could do amazing things.
Christine also loved salty foods and sent Pearl’s brownies out every day for chips, pretzels, and popcorn, which she shared with the others while they worked. With consecrated water, Christine could work stronger magic than Leda could imagine. She could also reach into a person and use the water inside him either against him or in his favor, to destroy or heal. Christine had trouble fighting demons, she confessed, because they had no water inside them.
Leda, on the other hand, worked well against demons because her magic was aligned with the element of air. She fed on the power of the wind and of instruments made to catch wind—chimes, flutes, even the rustle of wind in leaves. Leda was able to tap into the magic of demons because she could touch their air magic and bend it to her will. But that price was high, she remembered, thinking of the groth demon with a shudder. If not for Hunter . . .
Such thoughts would remind her of Hunter lying with her in her bed on the island, teaching her to open herself to him, pleasuring her while he drew the dark magic out of her. She thought of how he’d smiled when he held the dark magic between his fingers and so easily crushed it out of existence.
Then tears would fill Leda’s eyes, her worry returning, and whatever spell she tried to work would fizzle and die. Safer to not think of Hunter at all.
They knew Hunter and Adrian hadn’t been successful finding the demon and destroying him by the simple fact that the world didn’t get any better. It grew worse—darker, grittier, fouler. Leaving the house at all was dangerous, and Valerian would not let anyone out without his protection.
Only Mac seemed oblivious, plucking at his guitar and tapping notes on Amber’s piano, head bent, humming under his breath. Leda had listened to the music that was the result of his work, and found it astonishing. Beautiful and harsh at the same time, Mac’s music mixed ancient Celtic tunes and electric grunge into something entirely new. If they prevailed against the demon, Leda speculated, the Seattle music scene would love him.
In the kitchen Pearl cooked, her gnarled form moving quickly between refrigerator, stove, and ovens. Valerian had learned to tolerate the brownies because he loved Pearl’s cooking. But the dragon too worried, and was hard on himself because he could do so little.
At nightfall of the day that marked two weeks since Hunter, Adrian, and Samantha had disappeared, Mac lifted his head and swiveled around so he could stare at the front hall. The witches had learned to trust his instincts, and Leda rose warily as someone started banging on the door.
“Let us in, quick,” came a rumbling voice. For a moment Leda froze, thinking it was Hunter. She saw Christine and Amber hesitate as well, then they all raced into the hall.
Valerian came out of the back and reached the door first. “You ladies get behind me. I’m supposed to be protecting you.”
Leda saw the wisdom of letting him open the door for them, but it was difficult to hold back. She sensed death magic out there, the wards singing with it, but life magic as well. A powerful dose of life magic.
Valerian cracked the door open. His back stiffened. “Vampire,” he announced.
“And nymph,” said a light, almost musical voice with a touch of the sultry. “And a werewolf-witch, and a . . . whatever the hell Darius is.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Are you Darius?” Leda ducked under Valerian’s thick arm to see a tall warrior in a black leather sleeveless duster, his arms covered with tatts, standing on the front porch.
Now that Leda was familiar with Immortals, everything about him screamed it—the broad-shouldered build, the hard face and intense eyes, and the magic that crackled just below his surface. He carried a large sword, which his expression said he’d be happy to use if he didn’t like who he found in this house.
“Depends.” Darius peered sharply at Leda. “You Amber Silverthorne?”
“No, that would be me.” Amber craned to see him around Valerian, who wasn’t moving an inch.
“He’s with a vampire,” the dragon-man growled.
“This is Ricco,” said the tall werewolf-witch, who had long, black hair and light gray eyes. Her eyes flickered from human’s to wolf’s and back so quickly Leda almost missed it. “He’s decided to join the good guys for a while.”
“Like Septimus?” Amber asked.
Valerian rumbled in his throat. “I don’t like Septimus either.”
“What about me?” asked the willowy female with her hand on the vampire’s arm. It had been her voice they’d heard through the door. “I’m Mai, cute and harmless.”
The werewolf-witch snorted a laugh. “Sure.”
Valerian’s gaze rested on Mai, and he gave a conceding nod. “You seem fine.”
The werewolf-witch looked beyond Valerian, her eyes changing again, her stance wary. Sabina had come in from the back door, and now she regarded the other werewolf in muted hostility. Wolves were very territorial.
“I’m Lexi Corbin,” the werewolf-woman said, sounding formal. “Of the Oak Moon pack in New York. I’m just visiting.”
“Sabina Brown of the Bright Angel pack. We live three doors down.” Sabina looked Lexi over. “Well met and welcome.”
Lexi relaxed a fraction, as though she’d passed some kind of test. Leda didn’t know much about werewolves, but she gathered Sabina had sent Lexi reassurance that she’d be accepted on Sabina’s pack’s territory.
“Can we come in now?” Darius asked tightly. “There’s a shitload of death magic behind us. We barely made it to the porch in time.”
Inky darkness hovered outside the bubble of protection around the house, hanging like fog waiting to swallow anyone who came out.
“Where’s Mukasa?” Leda asked in alarm. The lion had taken to spending most of his time in the grove, gazing mournfully at the ripple in reality there. Waiting for Hunter, Leda had decided. Like the rest of us.
“He’s on the back porch,” Sabina answered. “I was with him just now. He’s fine.”
“Mukasa?” Darius asked as Valerian finally stepped back so he could enter. “Is he a witch?”
“Hunter’s pet lion,” Valerian said.
Mai gasped and moved closer to Ricco. The vampire was handsome, dark-haired and blue-eyed, and like Septimus, carried vast death magic. Another Old One.
“Hunter’s here?” Darius demanded.
“Not exactly.”
Darius strode into the house, brushing his fingers along the doorframe as he went. Leda sensed his magic flow into the walls, fusing with what his brothers had already marked.
When Darius entered the living room, he lifted his sword and slid it point downward behind the collar of his duster, where it disappeared. Leda blinked then realized the tattoos on his arms were of weapons—mostly daggers, knives, and throwing stars. When his duster swung open, she saw that his chest was covered with tatts as well. One looked like a dragon, which Valerian tilted his head to study.
“What did you mean, he’s not here exactly?” Darius asked Leda.
Lexi the werewolf came in behind him. “You know, Darius, we could introduce ourselves first. Get acqu
ainted. Have drinks.”
Leda shook her head. “This is too important.”
She filled Darius and Lexi in on events, while Darius stood still and listened, his scowl growing fiercer by the minute. The others drifted in to join them, Lexi remaining close to Darius.
They’re a couple too, Leda realized. We’ve all fallen for our Immortals.
She wondered how many women had done so through the ages, witches who’d Called the Immortals for help, then fallen in love with the big warriors with dangerous eyes.
It’s either a significant event that we each paired off with one now, or we’re simply four witches in a long line of foolish witches.
Leda finished telling the story of Kalen’s disappearance, and how Adrian and Hunter had gone after him, with side comments from Mac, Christine, Amber, Sabina, Valerian, and Pearl—who’d come out to see how many more dishes she’s have to lay for supper.
“I won’t be dining,” Ricco told her. The vampire looked uncomfortable in the house bursting with life magic, although Amber had given him a special invitation to enter through the wards.
Pearl shot him a belligerent look and an even greater one at Mai. Ricco slid his hand protectively to the small of Mai’s back. So that’s the way it was.
When Leda stopped talking, Darius said, “Well, they didn’t make it to Ravenscroft. I was there for a while. Probably why I didn’t get snatched when the demon was busy plucking up Immortals.”
“Then you think the demon did take them?” Leda asked. “All of them?”
Darius scrubbed his hand through his hair, which he wore shorter than his brothers did. “I think they would have checked back by now if they were still able. What was Hunter going on about? A ripple in reality? He’s always been a little nuts.”
“I think he’s right,” Leda said. “Hunter said that wherever Kalen was imprisoned would be difficult to reach, even for Immortals.”
“Where did Adrian and Hunter disappear? We can start looking there at least.”
“In the green behind the house,” Leda said. “There’s a powerful magical field out there, and Mukasa walks up and down looking unhappy, as though he’s waiting for Hunter to pop back out. But we’ve done all kinds of locating and tracking spells without any luck.”
“Hum,” Darius said. He wandered to the windows that gave out to the lawn sloping down to the grove. It was dark outside and lightly raining, the sky hidden.
“Do you want to take a look?” Lexi asked, coming up beside him. “See if you sense anything?”
“No.”
Lexi looked at him in surprise. “Why not?”
Darius continued to stare out into the darkness. “Go to the exact spot two other Immortals disappeared and see if I disappear too? Sure, good plan.”
“We could put a tracking device on you,” Valerian suggested. “So when you disappear you can send back signals, magical or otherwise.”
Darius turned to give Valerian a once-over. “What are you, my friend? Very magical, that’s for sure.”
Valerian gestured to the tattoo spread across Darius’s pectorals. “Tell me, is that a dragon on your chest, or are you just happy to see me?”
Darius looked down at himself, touching the outline of the tattoo. “This is Fury. He’s not a dragon; he’s a Bocca demon.”
“Really?” Leda asked in interest. She leaned forward to get a better look at the precise picture of the winged demon. “I thought they were extinct.”
“All but Fury,” Darius said. “I’ll tell you the story sometime. He and I are friends, and he helps me out now and again.”
“Huh,” Valerian said. “Thought maybe he was one of my long lost cousins or something.”
“Ah.” Darius gave him a nod. “So you’re one of the Great Dragons.”
“Don’t call him that.” Sabina folded her arms and leaned against Valerian’s solid body. “He’s insufferable as it is. Valerian is a swamp dragon.”
“Tropical dragon,” Valerian corrected her. “There’s a big difference.”
“Right, honey,” Sabina said with a straight face.
“We don’t know whether Hunter and Adrian are trapped or not,” Christine broke in. “But we do know Kalen is. I saw him taken myself, before I was thrown out of wherever it was.”
“I still don’t understand why the demon let you go,” Amber said to Christine. “Why come back and warn us?”
“Probably so Adrian and Hunter would go searching for Kalen,” Darius said. “We need to think about this. We need—”
“Ye need to sit yourselves down to the supper I’ve been slaving over,” came Pearl’s gruff voice. “It’s in the dining room, and I put another leaf in the table.”
“Who is she?” Darius asked Leda quietly. “What is she?”
“Her name is Pearl, and she’s wonderful,” Christine said. “She’s looked after Kalen for over a century.”
“Aye, that I have,” Pearl said, her ugly face softening. “The brownies have set everything up all nice, so don’t hurt their feelings.”
“Brownies,” Valerian muttered as they all moved through the hall to the vast dining room. One of the brownies scurried in front of the big man, causing him to trip, then scuttled away, laughing. Valerian caught himself on the doorframe, growling. “Bloody vermin.”
Leda dreamed. She sat up in bed and gazed at the white-curtained window, knowing she was still asleep, but somehow more awake than she ever had been. She sensed the others in the house around her—Ricco pulsing strongly of dark magic while he made phone calls downstairs, the white-hot power of Darius in the front guest room, the witch-werewolf power of Lexi mingling with his. Lexi had fire magic, which went with her personality—hot and sharp, nothing you wanted to mess with.
Amber down the hall had a blue aura, the earth as her strength; Christine was in the same room with her glow of water magic. And then Mac, sparking like a firework as he wandered the house, Mai a lesser glow near Ricco. Mai was a wood nymph, which explained her slim lightness, her beauty, her laughter, her blatant liking for sex. “Just call me a nymph-omaniac,” she’d joked at dinner.
The window beckoned to Leda. In her dream, she slowly swung out of bed, padded across the room in her bare feet, and pushed back the curtain.
The darkness beyond was complete. Out of one shadow came Hunter’s face, his smile warm. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Leda reached for him, her heart aching, but he vanished, to be replaced by a handsome male demon face that filled the void. “He’s with me,” Kehksut said, his voice low. “Why don’t you come and get him?”
Leda balled her fists. “Why do you want them? What are you going to do to them?”
“To them? Nothing. They will help me. But I need all five. Five. Remember that.”
“Why five? And why should you give me hints?”
Kehksut’s form blurred, and fire sprang from the darkness, divine fire. A woman’s face wreathed in flames came at Leda, her hands held in the elegant but contorted positions of an Asian statue.
“Five is a magical number,” she said, her tongue a flame of light.
“Kali?” Leda asked. The goddess herself? A trick of the demon’s? Or only a dream conjured by her tired brain?
“Five Immortals,” Kali said. “Five goddesses, five elements, five points of the pentacle. Five witches. Know.”
Kali’s visage vanished, and a powerfully beautiful woman with red hair appeared in her place. “Save my son,” she said, her lilting accent vibrant. “Let the world end if it must; I care nothing for it. But save my son.”
The vision changed again, and a woman with a stern but beautiful face and fiery eyes frowned at her. “Things have gotten out of hand,” she said. “Listen to Darius. He’s learned a thing or two from that werewolf-witch.”
Again a change, to a powerful, dark-haired woman in a linen wrap like those worn in ancient Rome. “Kalen has both wisdom and power. He will survive, but only with your help.”
The last woman had jet black
hair and slender horns rising from her head. “Help them all, Leda. You are wise without knowing it. Search inside yourself. What can you do—what have you survived the others have not? In that survival lies your strength. So many others would have succumbed.”
Leda listened without understanding. The moon played over the window in ripples of silver, the night breeze touching Leda’s skin like a kiss. Isis dissolved, and Hunter sat on her windowsill again, wearing his low-slung jeans, his feet bare. He pulled one knee to his chest, hooking his muscled arm around it.
“Have the goddesses been driving you crazy? Let me guess, being cryptic then telling you to figure it out for yourself?”
“Something like that.” Leda felt her lips move but no sound came from her mouth.
Hunter rose from the windowsill and came to her. She loved the way he looked, straight and tall, his bare torso tight with muscle. The pentacle tattoo on his abdomen pulsed with faint light.
“Are you real?” Leda whispered, reaching for him.
“Sort of. But I’m Hunter, and no demon.”
Leda found his skin firm and warm. She ran her hands up his chest, tracing across his collarbone, feeling the power of his shoulders. Hunter stood still, green eyes dark, letting her explore to her satisfaction.
He began kissing her, and Leda found herself back in the bed with him, their clothes gone. No demon. Hunter made love to her, gently at first, then with a wildness that left Leda breathless. His mouth was warm in the darkness, his body heavy and comforting.
“I love you,” Leda said, touching his face.
“I love you too, baby.”
He began to fade, and Leda clutched at him. “Don’t go.”
“I have to, sweetheart. I can’t stay.” Hunter’s eyes were profoundly sad as he kissed her. “You come find me. Do what the goddesses said.”
“But I don’t understand what the goddesses said.”
“You will. You’re my witch. You’ll do it.”
The Gathering Page 23