The Last Danann (Titanian Chronicles, #2)

by Victoria Saccenti

  “But… Talaith, Eachann knows everything. Didn’t you see him blazing around the room?” Bromm scratched his blond head. “No? Okay, okay. We’re going. Stand next to Malcolm. I’ll call the portal around them. I don’t want to jostle them too much. Ready?”

  She stood where he’d indicated, blinked, and their locations flipped instantly. Blackstone Manor’s receiving hallway opened before her. Her bewildered mind had trouble adjusting to the speed and the abrupt change. Bromm’s magic had to be something special. Although extremely rare, instant teleports could be done, or at least the more talented magicians claimed they could. She’d never experienced one before, not even with Khnurn.

  Turning her focus inward, she closed her eyes and forged an open mental door. The teleport-induced dissociation slipped away and her cognitive processes returned to normal.

  Then she saw the huge vampire and Flora sobbing quietly at his side. Eachann stood at the line where the portal had disappeared. Silent and grim, Eachann supervised the goings-on. Kailen, Bromm, and two other werewolves transported Brysys and Malcom on stretchers to the manor’s back rooms.

  “I’ll go with them.” She spoke to no one in particular. The vampire grunted in agreement.

  As Talaith started after the wounded, she caught a glimpse of Flora twisting her hands. She paused, touching her arm. “Malcolm will be fine. Kailen is a great healer.”

  “Thank you, lass.” Flora sniffed.

  Nodding, Talaith took off down the manor’s long and winding corridor.

  Landing at Eachann’s home was an unplanned detour in their mission, with an outcome impossible to foresee. If only she could talk to Khnurn and get his thoughts. She pulled out the phone. The screen was still blank. She tapped yet another text and dropped her phone in her pants pocket. Damn the wizard, his continued silence was making her nervous.

  Her thoughts traveled to the recent past as she passed salons, parlors, and rooms opening to the hallway. A little over two months ago, Khnurn had sent her to Blackstone Manor on a temporary assignment. Her duties had included healing the badly injured Bromm and searching for the hidden location of Sterling’s lab, which had been secretly moved out of Manhattan.

  Life had been strange at Blackstone. Consumed with worry over Bromm, the usually affable and communicative Eachann spent night and day at the werewolf’s bedside. His crew didn’t know her at all, and they went about their business. The Titanians hiding out in the manor spent their time training their mates for battle and dealing with the newly discovered conspiracy. Talaith had ambled about, an ignored shadow, going from the unconscious Bromm’s bedroom to her lonely chambers for meals and sleep. When the opportunity to transfer was presented, she took it even though the male waiting at the other end of the portal in New York was the protagonist of her dreams. And now, in a surreal twist of events, she’d returned to the manor as, of all things, Kailen’s healing partner.

  The group ahead made a right turn, and she stopped her musings. It was time to return to the present and get ready to act.

  Eachann had ensured that his home was impregnable. He’d enclosed the manor with unique wards and security rings that no wizard or magical creature without the right combination of spells could breach. Notwithstanding all precautions, the vampire had outfitted his medical emergency room for an all-out war, and his equipment was state-of-the-art.

  Kailen supervised and gave directions while Bromm and his team members attached Brysys and Malcolm to every available monitor.

  Talaith went directly to Malcolm. A soft whine escaped him. Gently, she pulled back his scorched shirt and gasped at the third-degree burn. Her body handled poison, but this was acid, a different substance and unknown to boot. Up till now, the need had not come up to cast an acid-healing enchantment that would also protect her. And that required time and careful attention. She’d have to go the human route.

  “The creature’s acid is still active. Help me move him to the sink,” she demanded.

  Rolo—she now remembered his name—situated the stretcher where she’d ordered.

  “Let’s open a light stream to wash the area.” Turning on the faucet, she waved at another team member to come. “Please, help Rolo. Malcolm’s right shoulder must be doused for the next several minutes. I’ll create an enchantment while you steady him. I also need scissors.”

  “Yon cabinet.” Rolo pointed with his chin.

  The medicine cabinet’s top shelf contained vials, bottles, and nondescript tubes she assumed were balms. The lower shelves held tapes, bandages, and other equipment. It was fully stocked with what she needed.

  “Thanks.”

  After grabbing the necessary items to treat Malcolm, she returned to the counter next to the sink.

  “I’m going to cut his shirt,” she explained, donning latex gloves. “In order to do so without touching the injury, I’ll need to move around him and you both. Is that all right?”

  “Do what you must. We’re here to help,” Rolo said.

  The process to remove Malcolm’s clothing progressed faster and easier than she anticipated. She snipped the shirt in strips while Rolo and his partner moved around her, keeping the wolf’s burn under the stream of water.

  “He only needs another five minutes before we can lay him down and apply salve to the area. He’ll be fine. His wolf nature will help him heal.”

  Pleased with the results, she tied her used gloves and discarded garment lengths into a ball and tossed them in a bin labeled Biohazard. Then it hit her—she’d been so focused in treating Malcolm that she forgot about Kailen. In fact, except for the monitor’s soft beep, no other noise had come from Brysys’s stretcher.

  She glanced over her shoulder, and her heart sank. The reaction was irrational, she knew. Considering the present situation jealousy was inappropriate and unreasonable. Kailen isn’t acting as an interested male, she told herself. He’s a healer using his magic to mend Brysys’s injuries. Nevertheless, the impulse to yank him far from the scantily clad, curvy woman was difficult to resist.

  You’re mine, her brain screamed.

  Stiffening her back, she pressed her lips into a flat line, avoiding all speech. It wouldn’t look good if she stomped out of the room either. In this mission, no matter how it played out, she was his partner and an adult. Childlike behavior would turn him away from her, and that should be the last thing she wanted.

  Still… His elegant hands, masculine, and strong, palpated Brysys’s exposed abs and belly. It should be me… Was she grateful the sorceress had a bra on? Definitely, because as the thought formed in her mind, Kailen placed his palm right between those full mounds.

  Turn her around. She’s wounded in the back. The demand caught in her throat.

  “Will the female survive?” Eachann’s stern voice came from the doorway.

  Kailen lifted his hands and paused. “Brysys will need convalescing time. She was fairly weak to begin with, and the attack damn near killed her.”

  “Och, her name is forbidden in my home.” A fang appeared, and an eerie reddish light sparkled in Eachann’s eyes. His voice had gone icy smooth. “Fix the female as best you can. Bromm and Rolo have orders to help and to give you everything you need. As soon as she’s able to stand, take her with you, but not a minute beyond that.”

  “But, Eachann…”

  “Hear me, lad. Our old friendship earned her passage to my sanctum, and that’s where it ends. She lingers, she dies, and your efforts are for naught, ken? I’ll be in Edinburgh for the duration. Bromm knows to reach me if necessary.” He exited into the hallway.

  “You can’t blame him,” Bromm said.

  “I don’t.” Shaking his head, Kailen resumed his work.

  Talaith didn’t either. She’d experienced Eachann’s heartbreak during her exploration with Maya. Even now, ages after the events, the pain cracked his voice. Eachann had tried everything to forget, but a vampire’s feelings were forever immutable, the heart eternally bound to his beloved no matter how unworthy. He’d re
signed himself to a doomed life of adoration, but he didn’t have to like it, and asking him to endure it in his own home was cruel. His departure was the ultimate chivalrous gesture. By offering the hospitality the Scottish people were famous for, he’d gone above and beyond the call of duty. She couldn’t help but respect him.

  She returned her attention to the medications spread on the counter. Malcolm had spent enough time under the water, so she peeked at the nasty third-degree burn. The black spot in the center had paled a little, and the subcutaneous tissue had meshed about an eighth of an inch, a good indication the wolf’s own magic was working.

  “It’s best to rest him belly down on the stretcher.”

  Rolo watched at her side as she worked in silence. She patted the burn dry, applied balm, and bandaged the area.

  “That’s it for now. We’ll keep an eye on his condition and check the bandage in a couple of days. Wolves heal quickly.” She smiled.

  “Aye,” Rolo grunted.

  “Finished?” Kailen asked.

  “Pretty much, Malcolm should remain in observation.”

  “Then come help me. Brysys is resisting.”

  “Is she? Why, do you suppose?” She walked quickly to the stretcher. Bromm followed her.

  Kailen scowled. “It’s hard to tell. Perhaps she’s able to hear and Eachann’s words distressed her.”

  “By her own hand, she betrayed him. Eachann’s hatred is her doing,” Bromm grated.

  “Hey, that remark is beneath you,” Kailen rejoined. “Not to mention unhelpful if she can hear us.”

  “Easy, you two,” she warned. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Link with me, hold my left hand, a stór. We’ll form a diagonal path with our energy. When I press above the left breast, you press down below the right breast, sending your magic through.”

  “Shouldn’t we turn her over? The lightning went through her back.”

  “Done already. The problem is the front, where her heart is. That’s where her energy is seeping out. I seal the spot for a moment or two, then it stubbornly reopens, like it has a mind of its own.”

  Talaith stared at the delicate unconscious face, serene and refined in her sleep. “Maybe she doesn’t want to stay,” she murmured.

  “You could be right. Who are we to stymie her wishes? If this doesn’t work, I’ll stop fighting to save her. She can elevate to the next plane with my full blessings.”

  “Agreed.”

  Kailen offered his hand, and she nodded, entwining her fingers with his.

  “Now,” he said.

  In unison, they pressed both palms on the sorceress’s chest, discharging their magic into her in a supernatural defibrillation. Her torso arched up.

  “Again.”

  When the second discharge went in, her stunning blue eyes widened, and her mouth gaped as her lungs emptied.

  “Unbelievable,” Bromm whispered.

  “Good job.” Kailen tested the trouble area with his lightest touch, and satisfied, he smiled. “The gap is sealing.”

  Talaith straightened. She opened her fingers, giving Kailen the option to free his hand if he so wished. Curious, he glanced at her, then let go.

  “W-where?” Brysys searched the faces before her in evident confusion.

  “Remember the cottage in Kinlochleven…and the werewolf couple? You were attacked and wounded,” Kailen explained.

  Still wide-eyed, she pointed a trembling finger at Kailen.

  “Hello. I’m Kailen, and this is Talaith, my partner. We came to see you on Khnurn’s behalf.”

  Brysys’s darting eyes located Bromm’s face, and her features twisted in recognition.

  “This…this is Blackstone? Eachann?”

  Kailen brushed the mussed hair back from her face. Inhaling, Talaith closed her eyes. She couldn’t…didn’t want to see this. In some civilized corner of her brain, she understood he only meant to comfort Brysys. The uncivilized corner seethed. The acid in her stomach churned as her fingers itched to scratch the perfect face, the invader of her turf. If only she had the guts to let it all out… Sighing, she hid behind her go-to I-don’t-care curtain.

  “You and Malcolm were in bad shape, so I transported you to Blackstone, the closest place. With Eachann’s permission,” Bromm intervened. “He’s not here. He left for Edinburgh before you woke up.”

  “Gods…no. Too soon, Eachann. Too soon,” Brysys’s agonized wail struck Talaith, a sharp knife to the heart. Something in her changed; her ferocity eased. What she had learned about Brysys and Eachann’s disastrous story wasn’t complete. Talaith’s journey to the past had been rushed, and she’d missed details that might help to shed light into the situation. At the first opportunity, she’d travel back.

  Meanwhile, she’d muddle through this mess until Malcolm was fairly healed and didn’t need her magic anymore. There was no point in hanging around in Scotland or lying to herself. Brysys’s ethereal beauty could eclipse the moon’s, and Kailen wasn’t impervious. Talaith couldn’t compete. Her mundane looks paled by comparison. While Kailen and Brysys transported to New York, she’d come up with some excuse and scurry back to Egypt.

  The story of my life, she thought bitterly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  No one could hear the music but her. She made sure of it. In the privacy of her room, the lyrical strains of a flute floated in her mind, eliciting the graceful movements she’d learned ages ago. Italian Renaissance dance masters claimed authorial rights, and so did le Roi Soleil, but she knew the truth. Wood nymphs inhabiting the northern European forests, now sadly extinct, had made up the steps during feasts. Under their kind tutelage, Talaith’s glissade turned out crisp, her ballon smooth and long, her pointed toes determined, a credit to her teachers.

  “You’ve crossed the childbearing threshold. The life-giving miracle fractures magic. Dance makes it whole again,” the nymphs had explained.

  At the next celebration, she tested their assertions. In the midst of dancing, she sent her pleas to the universe. In seconds, minute flakes descended, enclosing her within a diaphanous cloud. Her taxed powers surged with renewed magic.

  Humbled, she accepted the nymphs’ wisdom, and the ritual became second nature.

  She’d put her dance aside whenever she returned to Khnurn’s hut at the end of an assignment. Her moments of privacy were rare, as Sabah’s and the wizard’s presence silenced the music and inhibited the ritual. Only when he traveled or sent Talaith on solo missions could she enjoy the unfettered happiness her dance produced.

  Talaith pirouetted on demi-point the skirt of her silky nightgown twirling between and around her legs. The sensation was decadent and sensuous. She laughed, remembering her surprise at such a fortunate find. She had arrived with no extra clothing. But when the situation required her to spend the night, she’d searched through closets and drawers hoping to find a T-shirt to use as sleepwear. Who’d guess Eachann kept women’s intimate garments in his manor?

  She paused before the mirror, eyeing her body through the sheer fabric. She couldn’t brag about having hourglass curves, and her pinched expression revealed the silent stress of watching Kailen moon after Brysys. As a result, her magic had suffered. Without a boost, she couldn’t go on honing her talent or staying in the fight as Khnurn expected of her.

  Recharging magic demanded extra concentration. She muted the flute to background music and summoned every bit of her essence to her core.

  With a deep breath, she filled her lungs to capacity and held on until tiny stars filled her vision. She exhaled, making a graceful, waist-level circle with her arms, then continued upward in a slow port de bras. As she passed her head, she straightened both limbs and reached up, toward a universe she hoped watched, listened, and was in a giving mood. Breathing in again, she started the pleading hand movements. Leading with her middle finger, she twisted her wrists and fingers in the flowing, beckoning gestures she’d learned during her time in southern Iberia.

  Centuries ago, before Roman le
gions invaded the peninsula, Iberian dryads, disregarding original mandates from the universe, presented the hand dance to mortal females. Much as the dryads tried and the women copied and rehearsed the motions, their good intentions failed. Because humans don’t have magic, frustration ensued. What began as supplication to the gods and Mother Nature for prosperity, lost its meaning. Constant invasions, influx of new beliefs, and the passing of time mutated the original purpose. The spirituality of the dance faded in favor of a carnal and seductive expression, a clear display of human passion.

  Being a magical creature, Talaith’s experience had been different. The hand dance had bolstered her power with such beauty, she’d incorporated what she’d learned in her rituals. And now, as her hands curled, she begged in humble silence.

  Please help. I’m losing strength and intent. Strengthen my magic and allow me the past.

  The lights in the room flickered and dimmed. Delicate luminous flakes fell upon her shoulders, renewed vigor floated through her system.

  “Thank you!” she exclaimed, thrilled with the ether’s sign of approval.

  In that moment, the door behind her squeaked. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Remarkable.”

  “What?”

  The trance ceased, the glow of power fled out of the room, and the lights returned to full brightness, scaring the tiny flakes away. Through the mirror, Kailen’s mesmerizing gaze studied her. Shocked and embarrassed, she dropped her arms to her sides. Heat flushed her face. If it were within her power, she’d disappear.

  “The door was open.” He stepped in.

  “It was not!”

  “Calling me a liar?” He smirked.

  “Uh, no…but—”

  “Did you know I love woodwinds? I guess you didn’t.” He advanced, his voice smooth, and pace casual, the embodiment of harmless. “Imagine my surprise when flute sounds came out of your room. I had to see what you were doing. It’s not an instrument I expected to hear in Blackstone Manor. A bagpipe, yes, but a flute… Certainly not.”