Judith screamed. Equal parts cat’s howl and woman’s grieving cry, the desperate, sorrowing wail froze Wylder in place.
Only once had he heard such despairing anguish voiced. He had sworn he would never again be the cause of so deep a pain. Sickened at his actions, he swallowed the bile burning in his throat. Unable to get rid of the were-cat fast enough, he opened his fist and practically tossed the feline away. Despite the graveness of the situation, he almost smiled as he watched the cat twist in mid air, land on his feet and scramble away. A moment later, all mirth ceased as, hands clenched at his sides, he swung about to confront the Council.
They stood bunched together in a tight formation. Lemuel, belly low to the ground, tail still tucked tight between his hind legs, had joined his fellows. Judith butted her head against her mate, herding him on to the back of the group as the others closed ranks behind him.
Their actions, given their usual cowardice, managed to surprise him.
They formed a barrier of flesh and magick between Wylder and the traumatized cat. Even Vorodin, whom he had counted a friend, stood aligned against him. He couldn’t help but marvel at their courage as their mouths spoke great words of power and their hands wove ancient patterns in preparation for battle. Had he been as out-of-control as they obviously believed, they would have been preparing to die.
Frustrated and angry he may be, disappointed and often disillusioned over their actions, yes. To his surprise, he found he did not want to kill any of them. “Congratulations! I see there are teeth, still, in this company of misfits. Perhaps there is hope for this Council, after all. “ There was no mockery in his words.
Drawing on the shredded remains of control, Wylder called back his roiling power. Ruthlessly harnessing the elemental energies, he tamped down his anger and calmed the lightning storm, allowing the room lights to come back up. With a wave of his hand, the room was set to rights. Then, with hard-won dignity, he schooled his face into an expressionless mask and bowed to the Council, hands spread palm outward. “I place myself at the mercy of this Council for offering violence to the body of one its members.”
K’Tlkn, the Elf, raised his eyebrows and canted his pointed ears forward. “You have repeatedly asked why we do not recognize you as part of this council, even as a standing member. Your present behavior is part of the reason we question your ability to rule, Wylder. Yours is the strongest magick—none here doubts it and none disputes it—yet, unmated, you lack the balance and self-control necessary to be an effective ruler. Think of what you almost allowed to happen to Judith, an innocent by-stander of your wrath. Such out-of-control power is a danger to all of us…as you, above all, should well know. “
Every muscle in his body clenched as unwanted memories flashed across his mind’s eye and the echo of a beloved voice rang in his soul.
“Elias, we are as one. I love you, my brother. Join me! Together, we will rule this world and any other of our choosing. Brother, do not make me kill you! Elias…!”
He closed his eyes, unwilling to expose the pain that still tormented him, sharp as jagged glass. At his side, his hands curled into fists, the only outward sign of the bitter, heart wrenching remorse that never left him. A ragged sigh swelled his chest. Swallowing past the lump of regret wedged in his throat, he admitted, “I do know it.”
Turning his gaze to Judith, who had yet to return to her human form, he bowed in deep respect. “I plead your pardon, Lady. You have never done me harm. For my unwarranted action against you, I owe you a boon. You may require it of me at any time.”
The panthera hissed at him, her ruff standing stiffly; twitching tail held aloft in an obvious sign of still ruffled emotions. Wylder sighed and inclined his head with a wry nod, accepting that her forgiveness would not be granted so easily.
“Something must be done. This barbarism cannot go unpunished.” Lemuel croaked from his safe haven behind the lines.
“My only defense for this lack of control is my need to find my mate. You all know I have never been able to stomach Westerner’s whining, yet never, in all these years, have I attacked him.”
“This is true,” Grooden allowed. “We must take into consideration the effects of an interrupted mating. His magick has been drawn forth but not returned. The situation will only worsen drastically if Wylder’s mate is not restored to him.”
“Granted,” Druscilla nodded in agreement. “But, how will we begin? Where do we look? We have nothing of hers with which to skrye…”
“We know she is far away. I have scoured these Northeastern Division lands from top to bottom. If something or someone is shielding her from me, it is far enough away to escape my skrying, for I carry her essence within.” His lips turned up in a true smile at the memory of her pure, sweet taste. “She could not escape my detection at close quarters.”
“Cast a seeing, K’Lndr,” Vorodin suggested. “The Lord and Lady have already given you one sight involving this situation. Mayhap they will grant another.”
“Please, K’Lndr!” Wylder pleaded, not caring that his impassioned plea shocked them all. Pride had fled with his Lady. Every day without her saw him closer to losing control. Madness beckoned and he feared for his world. Unlike before, no one was powerful enough to confront and defeat him. Ironically, the only person with a chance of defeating him was the very person he needed to save his sanity and his life.
Wylder glanced at the seer. “Look for her on the Western Coast and the Light Isles, as far away as Chinasia.”
“I will cast, but I can promise you nothing.”
“I have ten days. We have ten days. Without my mate, I will have no anchor, no control. You all know what that means…” His expression grim, he fought against his feelings of abused pride, willing to humble himself if necessary Nothing, not his pride or his public standing would he allow to stand in the way of recovering his lost love. Driven by a desperation that daily grew darker, stronger, Wylder cried out, “By the Lord and Lady…please, help me. Morven Maganistus is my life!”
Chapter Two
Monday, October 25, 7:55 a.m. (Northwestern Division time)
Moriah Morris slipped out to the garage, hoping against hope that her temperamental transportation would start without giving her a hassle this morning. Biting her lip, she rattled off the starter spell, refusing to admit the fault might lie with her magick, not her transportation. The engine purred to life along with the radio. She flung her briefcase into her low-slung convertible with a heartfelt prayer. “Thank you, Lady, Mother of all.”
“Gooooooood morning, San Francisco, It is eight o’clock on this hot Monday morning! This is Bob—”
“And Jerry—”
“—your hosts of the ‘Bob and Jerry in the Morning’ radio program. We’re your fly-to-work, stay alert program, keeping you abreast of traffic jams and spell storms as you broom and ‘port your way to that haunting day job!”
“Bringing you traffic updates every fifteen minutes with weather and news on the half-hour. So, Bob, what’s the weather like this morning?”
“Well, Jerry, as you know, San Francisco has been sweltering under an unseasonable heat wave and it looks like we’ll see no relief today. The precognition is for hot followed by more hot on this bright October 25th morning. Look for people’s tempers to flare as high as the temperature does…”
Listening absently to the usual prattle from the radio, Moriah ran a lightning check on all systems. The last thing she needed was for the Hoover to stall on her, making her even later. Thank the goddess for another hour and a half before her first and most important meeting of the morning. If nothing else went wrong, she should make it in plenty of time…
“Whoa, Bob! Sounds like that Elemental Salamander is still on the loose! Authorities are getting worried. If the heat continues to rise, the re-seeded forests are in danger of being consumed by spontaneous combustion. S.W.A.T. has been assigned to investigate the Salamander, to see if it has been summoned as malicious magick on someone’s part, or it simply wandered into th
e San Francisco area by accident.”
“Jerry, I have to tell you…when the Spell Weather Assessment Team comes in it means things have gone seriously wrong. Folks, you take care on the roads, today. We have reports coming in about fly-by spell shootings and local police advise travelers to drive with their portals closed and warded. The Police Chief suggests taking the rapid transit until the weather, and those hot-heads out there, cool down.”
Eight o’clock, and already her morning sucked. The baby-sitter called in sick, today of all days, so of course, the replacement sent over by the agency showed up half an hour late. Now, to make matters worse, little Nyla—usually the most placid of babies—was refusing to have anything to do with the woman.
Moriah’s chest rose and fell on a dejected sigh. Her daughter was irritable and cranky. This heat didn’t help matters and by the sound of it, there would be no early cold snap. At least the Hoover Feather-light started with no problems this morning. Leaving it running, she sprinted back inside for a quick goodbye kiss and some last minute bargaining for good behavior from her precocious child.
In the hallway, she paused before the full-length mirror to tug at her dark green business suit, smoothing the fall of lace at breast and wrists. The cream blouse went well with the suit, showing off her firm, high breasts and complimenting her dark brown hair. She liked the feel of the short skirt brushing her thighs, flirty, but not too revealing for the office. She interfaced with the public a lot and the senior partners appreciated beauty as well as brains in their junior associates. She didn’t mind using her assets…to a certain degree.
Hurrying on into small nursery, she dropped to her knees. Leaning over her daughter’s bed, she nuzzled noses and dropped a loving kiss on her forehead. “You are Momma’s precious bundle! Behave while Momma is gone,” she ordered firmly. She softened the command with the promise, “I will bring you back a treat!” She straightened up and turned to face the waiting babysitter. “I’ll be home at lunch time, Ms. Pettibone. You’ll find a list of numbers on the refrigerator. Please do not hesitate to call my spell phone at any time if anything out of the ordinary should occur.”
“I misdoubt anything will come up that I cannot handle, madam,” the starchy woman replied stiffly, folding her hands together over her trim waist. “I have several degrees in early development and training. I am quite prepared for this young miss, I assure you.”
A worried frown drew Moriah’s eyebrows together. She did not know why, but the vibes pouring off the agency replacement struck her as…off. Her intuition screamed at her, yet it didn’t indicate danger. She felt no menace from the woman, only a vague unease about leaving her to the un-tender mercies of her impetuous offspring. “Ms. Pettibone, I don’t think you understand the situation, here. Didn’t the agency inform you my daughter was…well, precocious…beyond her years in magick usage?”
The woman actually snorted. “One can see that at once, madam. You may place full confidence in me. I won’t tolerate any shenanigans!” She glanced pointedly at her watch. “Oh my, it’s past eight thirty. Hadn’t you better be on your way?”
“You are right, I do need to get going,” she admitted, feeling flustered and antsy. “I’m already late and I have a pile of work waiting for me.” With several reluctant backwards glances and blown kisses, she closed the door to her small apartment and instantly noticed the ominous silence beneath the ongoing radio clatter.
The Hoover had stalled out. Again.
If anyone at work were to see this shoddy piece of spell work, my position would be in grave danger. Why is everything going to hell in a hand basket?
Climbing into the driver’s seat, Moriah closed her eyes and concentrated on composing a re-starter spell. The motor finally caught and she strapped in, cursing under her breath as the Feather-light took off in a series of ungainly hops and jerks. The radio announcer caught her wandering attention when she heard the name of her firm mentioned.
“…Also in the news today, the prestigious magickal firm of Jonathans, Athencrombie and Athemay: Superior Spells and Cogent Conjurations will announce the winner of the firm’s annual MVP (Most Valuable Practitioner) award at the All Hallows Gala bash eight evenings from today. This annual charitable event fills up fast, folks, so buy your tickets early. You don’t want to miss an opportunity to rub elbows with the celebrities and stars! Here’s a list of those planning to be in attendance…”
She knew why her spells, and everything else in her life, seemed to be haywire and literally going to the dogs. Life would not go back to normal until she got past the upcoming All Hallows night.
A shiver ghosted over her, chilling her flesh despite the heat as memories of the upcoming anniversary of her graduation forced their way past her weakened mental barriers. Her cheeks burned and her pussy pulsed hungrily, causing her to clench her knees together, remembering the power of the man and the sexual magick he had wielded over her.
She fought the memories as she fought the feelings flooding through her suddenly rebelling body. Try as she might, she could not stop her breasts from tingling, her nipples from tightening into hard, needy points of desire. The muscles in her lower belly spasmed, her clit swelled and ached. She rocked in her seat, trembling with awakened desire, her very fingertips throbbing from want. Balling her hands into fists to keep them from plucking at her burning nipples, she stared with sightless eyes through the ensorcelled pane of her windshield. Gaze turning inward, she recalled the scenes from the past and remembered how innocuously that night had begun …
“Miss Maganistus? My name is Ethan Winston.”
Morven stared at the tall young man standing on her doorstep, a lock of blond hair falling in a boyish sweep over his wide forehead. His navy blue eyes held an equal blend of self-assurance and wariness as he shifted, then stilled under her prolonged scrutiny.
He cleared his throat. “Professor Wylder told me you were looking for someone to assist with your graduation ceremony. He said he had recommended me to you. You are expecting me, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Ethan, I was expecting you. Won’t you please, come in…?” She stepped back, allowing him inside. “This way…”she gestured, ushering him into the living room.
“By the way, do you mind my calling you by your first name?” She smiled and held out a hand. His eager handclasp felt warm and dry, strong yet gentle. He seemed perfect for her needs.
A sigh escaped his lips and an expression of relief lightened his drawn features as he shook hands with her. “Not at all, ma’am, please do. After all, we are about to become intimately acquainted—”
“Wonderful! And you must call me Morven.” Releasing his hand, she led him over to a plush couch. The thick green cushions barely dented under their weight as they settled down, eyes still cataloguing each other.
“I really do thank you for agreeing to take part in my special night, Ethan. You do realize this is a senior graduation—an Opening?”
“Yes, Morven,” he nodded. “The professor explained you are attaining your Ladyship. I have assisted in several rites of this type and know just what to expect…” He rifled through his bag and produced a sheaf of official looking papers. “I’ve brought my medical reports for you to look over.” He gave a little self-conscious laugh.
“What’s the matter?”
He shrugged. “That last statement sounded sort of arrogant. I didn’t mean anything like that. It’s just…” he paused and bit his lip. “I come from a very poor family. I tested high on the S.A.T. My district needed more Warlocks gifted in Sub-Atomic Telekinesis, so they are paying for my tuition and books. There is very little money for anything else and these assignments help me sprinkle a little protein over my nut-paste.”
Morven patted his hand, feeling like an elder sister. “I understand, believe me—”
He frowned. “How could you? After all, you are a Maganistus!”
She laughed as she shook her head. “Everyone jumps to that same conclusion. I am not a member of that branch
of the family.” She snorted. “I wish! No…”she demurred, “I made my way through college by tutoring and taking on jobs as professor’s aide. I worked this last semester for Professor Wylder.”
Ethan turned toward her, crooking his right leg over his knee. He looked like he was settling in for a cozy conversation. “What do you think about the professor? Do you like him?”
She had to think about that for a while. “How does one like someone like him?” she asked, smiling absently. “Like is such a mundane word to use in conjunction with a Warlock of that magnitude. He is immensely powerful and I respect him. I’ve never met anyone with that degree of Magick. It frightens me even as it awes me. I imagine I am not the only one to feel like that about the man. It must be difficult living with the fears and awe of those around you. Can a person who is that important have any friends?”
“He’s from my district, you know. That family keeps to themselves so we don’t really know much about them. Personally, I have never liked him.”
His words were harsh, his voice gruff. She studied him, searching his eyes for signs of anger or hurt. Usually, when a person voiced such emotionally charged words, they were fuelled by past hurt or past harm. “What has he done to make you feel that way about him?”
Ethan shrugged. “Nothing, really, he just gives me creeps. He’s so emotionally cold, I get frost-bite when I stand close to him!”
His words surprised a laugh out of her. “I can’t say I don’t know what you mean. But I never found him to be standoffish. In fact, I could have almost sworn he tried to make a pass at me!”
“The Ice Professor? No way!”
“Yes, way! You know…” she leaned closer, lowering her voice. She glanced around as if the walls had ears, feeling uncomfortable about what she planned to say, “…he actually offered to be my ritual Athame!”
Ethan drew back and stared at her. His eyebrows lowered. “Isn’t that unethical? Did you threaten to report him? Is that why he backed off?”
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