by Kat Bastion
Within a half dozen steps, the huddled children breached through the far side of the shimmerin’ curtain that had obscured them. And each one paused, half-in, half-out, as if caught for an instant marvelin’ about the extraordinary net. Thin chests expanded and eyes grew ever wider in wonder as they each spun in turn and stared at her.
And as the wee ones crossed through the curtain of her magick, a startlin’ chill shivered through her. The crisp bite gripped her, seizin’ her breath, till they passed all the way through to stand wholly on the other side.
Then the elder boy’s jaw dropped open. He gave a heavy blink in her direction, but his gaze grew unfocused. The magick cloak now obscured her alone. And him—the angel.
Another energy pulse flared from behind her, but slower than before, warm and tinglin’, flowin’ out toward the children. The energy’s essence tasted calm and protective. As the softer wave passed through her curtain, its force splashed tiny glitterin’ fragments of both magicks over the children. Faces alightin’ with a flash of joy, they inhaled deeply, then darted off into the darkness of the forest.
The danger had passed.
But still, Brigid struggled to let go.
Even through total exhaustion, she remained motionless, clutchin’ the unusual gathered magick around her. Breaths short, muscles cramped, mind frayed from emotions runnin’ hot with anger and fear, she began to fret that she dinna know how to let go.
“Exhale.” The soft command rumbled low, as if echoed from afar. “To the count of five.”
Closin’ her eyes, body tremblin’ from fatigue, she did as Skorpius urged. A comfortin’ warmth spread through her, then eased away, like the cool shade of cloud cover had drifted overhead. Relief sagged her shoulders. Locked knees nigh gave way. Shaky breaths began to lengthen, growin’ steady.
But then, her mind snapped taut.
She gasped when a different kind of heat—richer, darker, edged with seductive danger—danced across her skin, raced up the curve of her neck, and sizzled over the shell of her ear.
Och! His slow exhalation.
A slow, cool draft followed, chillin’ back down her neck, then paused directly over her shoulder. A deep inhalation. Like some primal beast, the ultimate hunter, had breathed in…her.
A disconcertin’ ache flared from that closest point of exposure near her collarbone, downward. A sudden awareness of her whole body peaked; the deerskin material of her newly made huntin’ clothes rasped across tender nipples, the fitted cut between her legs clung where a pleasurable pulse began to throb.
Did his magick bewitch me?
She frowned. Remember who you are! Focus on why you’re here.
On a slower breath in, to another count of five at her own direction, she straightened her frame, hardened her jaw, and tensed her muscles. The powerful male needed to know she wouldn’t be stalked, couldn’t be dissuaded, and refused to bow down to the will of any other.
I alone decide.
More of his charged air feathered over her skin. On the last bit, light huffs and a low chuckle vibrated. Of course, you do, boomed the male’s words—inside her head.
She jumped, startled, and her loosened satchel tumbled from her grasp, spillin’ its contents onto the ground. Her breath caught, chest frozen in place. And her vexin’ body ached in response to the primal maleness of him once again.
On a low growl, she blew out a frustrated breath through clenched teeth. Night after night, power had saturated her bedchamber. Alone! she boomed back. He dinna get to follow.
“Without you.” The last echoed aloud, powered by a fiery burst of her magick.
Anger wellin’ up, she lifted her chin, then turned and faced her pursuer.
Chapter 4
Without me? Skorpius stifled a laugh.
“Not an option.”
If the female had any inkling of the true meaning of his presence, especially of the duality—his obligation to and against her—she’d cower in fear.
Most mortals exhibited the wise instinct to be afraid anyway.
His very essence screamed apex predator.
Brigid? Simply straightened her lean frame and glared at him. The astonishing female steeled her spine in the face of danger.
Nevertheless, she had charged down her precarious path of her own volition.
And he, created as a warrior to battle a cause far greater than either of them, had no choice in the matter. On both counts, he’d been bonded to the female for the duration: until some unforeseen event released his guardianship of her, and once the time-rift—the disruption that had nearly cost her a very beautiful head—had been repaired.
“Nice trick.” His gaze lingered on the inert air that had quivered with magick mere seconds ago, while her provocative scent imprinted on him. “Impressive, even,” he murmured. Even if her ability to hold such immense power had faltered.
Skorpius had never witnessed anyone obscure with glamour.
Besides angelkind.
Of course, other humans through time immortal had been documented to achieve a similar feat, but only after years of training, under a master of the secrets.
Never without elaborate ritual preparation.
Not unaided, in an instant…on instinct.
The female warrior had wielded elemental forces as if they’d been inborn, until fatigue had set in. Rudimentary laws of experience trumped a beginner’s aptitude. Even Olympians, whose innate skills had awed humans through the ages, had to practice for years to attain excellence.
“Nay.” Her tone deepened, loaded with power—again.
In slow progression, she resumed her rigid stance: muscles tightening, breaths shallowing, brows lowering, nostrils flaring. And those elemental forces she’d just lost her grip on began to vibrate again, as if she summoned them on a subconscious level. And they would serve her, if she commanded them completely.
Calculating silver eyes narrowed at him. “I’ll not be havin’ you on my journey.”
But the magick particles she incited never fully coalesced; she failed to complete the circuit. Either through lack of knowledge, exhaustion, or by choice.
Skorpius needed to test which. “My mission says otherwise.”
“What mission?”
“Above your paygrade.”
She cocked her head. And the power buildup began to subside, quelled for the moment. “You and Isobel…and your strange words.”
Technically not his and Isobel’s words, but modern vernacular nonetheless. Even so, Brigid intuited far more than she let on. “You know what it means.”
“Aye.” She gave a slight nod. “Yet, as you doona wish to share your secrets, I’ll be keepin’ mine.”
“Understood.” Not that it mattered. Brigid’s secrets would be revealed, one way or another.
Her eyes brightened. “Aye, so you’ll leave, then?”
“No.” He folded his arms.
Her current of energy snapped alive again, instantly agitating around her. The molecules vibrated with staggering acceleration, till they trembled at peak tolerance, a threshold dangerously close to combustion. “I’ll not go with you.”
“You will.” Skorpius sensed she inherently knew it, even though she balked at the notion. Everyone realized the inevitable things on some level. He understood theirs was the same journey by his very presence there. That, and the dual tethers pulsating their urgent message at his core. “Your decision—the only one you have in the matter—is whether you’ll accept my company with you, or not.”
Brigid glared at him, lips tight, stance rigid as ever.
Shifting tactics, he tilted his head down a fraction. “Hmmm…” He softened his voice. Decided to work the bonding angle. A little. “Surrender to our path.”
Orion may have had a point with the outrageous suggestion. Perhaps young Brigid would prove more amenable than a stubborn ancient angel. Who knows? If you yield to the inescapable first, I might be more inclined to.
“Nay. I’ll never surrender.” Defiance gl
inted in those mercurial silver eyes. “And ’tis not our path.”
“It is our path, like it or not.” Yet with her immediate refusal to submit with almost the same vehemence as he, Skorpius began to like the idea of their being stuck together quite a bit more. “But fine.” He gave a half shrug. “From afar it is.”
She frowned. “What do you mean ‘from afar’?”
He arched his brows. “Exactly how it sounds. With you, but not with you.”
“Spyin’ on me?” The volatile energy crackled with her anger.
“Guarding over you.”
“To protect me.” Suspicion riddled her tone.
“Among other things.” Above your paygrade.
Her power flared another notch higher, without discharging. Somehow, she’d learned to brew her magick toward a massive excitation, building layer upon layer of pressurized power. “I doona trust ‘other things.’”
The vibrating molecules began to change their behavior, flowing toward her as they spun hotter. Additional electrons manifested from their invisible cloud into existence, becoming a part of the material world. And the field of sparking unseen magick that had surrounded her became visible, ebbing and flowing, golden in its essence.
Excellent. Now we’re getting somewhere.
Skorpius decided to test a theory. After drawing a deep breath, he exhaled while centering on a calm wave from within. Then he burst out a torrent of power, glacial as the Arctic, dark as a starless midnight.
Brigid’s magick?
Extinguished at once under the onslaught of his.
She gave a heavy blink of surprise, then furrowed her brow and glanced around with a stark expression of disbelief; her comfort blanket had vanished.
Novice, then. Learning and developing at lightning speed, but still unable to control or understand. Clearly inexperienced. She’d probably never encountered another being with magick.
In the next instant, she burst into motion. Copper hair rippling behind her, sleekly toned arms arcing around, silvery eyes sparking with fury, she lunged toward him with a fierce war cry. The echoing ring of her dagger blades slashing apart rent the air.
Until she froze. Or rather, his magick immobilized her forward momentum, her controllable muscles, all but her autonomic nervous system. He didn’t want to kill her. Not yet.
Seconds ticked by.
Defiant beats powered a strong heart.
Furious breaths expanded healthy lungs.
A hard swallow contracted her slender throat.
But nothing more. No jaw clench. No narrowed eyes. Oh, but you want to. He sensed how she strained, the effort she made. Hot anger radiated from every cell of her body.
Her shining copper hair glinted in the sunlight, as the wind moved what she could no longer.
To further demonstrate his absolute control—and to illustrate the breadth of his power over the toe-dip she’d ventured on her own—he began to release her, one miniscule muscle at a time, softening their rigidity, relaxing each in linear fashion. While he still supported her where needed—so she didn’t crumple to the ground.
Well, there’s a novel thought.
Her eyes widened as he then released her in an accelerating cascade, racing from shoulders to fingertips, quickening through to her hips, whipping down to her toes.
Suddenly freed arms flailed wildly for balance that never came. She toppled backward and landed flat on her ass. Gravity remained king.
From her dumped position, deerskin-clad legs bent, arms braced wide and back on the ground, her now-freed eyes glared at him, unspent rage burning in their silvery depths. A low growl reverberated. “Doona play with me.” Small fisted hands tightened on the hilts of her daggers, their blades rendered useless as they lay prone on the moldy forest floor.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Nothing transpired by half measure, all held purpose. His unusual assignment demanded that he vet her threat level. And he’d do so in any fashion he pleased. “Instead of play, let’s do this for real.”
With a forceful mental shove to her backside, he “helped” her up.
She stumbled forward a few steps to gain balance, then shot him a caustic glare.
Aside from beginner’s-luck, which had combusted her energy into view, magick typically remained invisible to the naked eye, to her kind and his. However, if the wielder focused on the alchemy taking place, echoes of pure energy could be detected as it reacted within the material realm. Traces born by personal perspective, when colored into the world, bathed anyone paying attention—of those able to see—in the afterglow.
Lesson time. For both of us.
To add power to his demonstration, he infused the formidable magick stoked from his core with his fiery essence, which glowed a blackish blue. Then he gathered the paltry remaining sparks of magick Brigid had brandished, which flashed a bright gold, and wove them with his. When her light bonded with his dark, the fibers cooled into her dusting of silvery gold sparkling at the edges of his midnight hue.
Once fully merged, he exploded their blended magick outward, toward her.
A layered energy field snapped into place, into a glittering dome that surrounded her. The sphere spanned seven feet in diameter. Plenty of room for her to move. Within it.
Her shrewd gaze scanned three-sixty along the ground, flicking up and over as she spun. Then she landed a hard stare at him. “What trickery is this?”
“Rudimentary magick. Yours with mine. The first recognizes you. The other tests you.”
She glared with ferocity at him, breaths slowing, anger sparking hot under her skin. Then she diverted her attention toward the magick field that imprisoned her. After a moment’s consideration, she extended the tip of a dagger toward the nearest perimeter.
“I wouldn’t advise it. Metal is a great conductor of energy.” Moreover, a newbie mistake—one that fried her into unconsciousness—would reveal nothing about the extent her ability. “Unless you like to catch lightning bolts.”
Her chest expanded on a measured breath, then she shot him an exasperated expression. Gaze locked tight with his, she spun the blades on her palms before sheathing the weapons into the leather scabbards at her hips.
Then she turned from him and examined the magick shield more closely. She lifted an open hand and floated steady fingertips over the luminescent barrier. A small pulse of energy flared out from her core and floated over her fingertips. Not much magick coated her vulnerable skin, but enough. Enough to protect her from a mortal wound.
On a slow exhale, she drifted her eyelids closed and pressed her fingers forward.
A loud crackle sounded. A spark flashed.
“Och!” She pressed the zapped fingertips to her lips and shot another scathing glare at him.
“My magick is greater than yours,” he murmured.
Which puzzled him. Only threats great enough to disrupt entire timelines, destroy whole worlds, demanded his attention. What was so special about the harmless creature before him? Perhaps a chain of events yet to occur. Maybe several.
“For now.” She stared at him a moment longer, aggressive expression cooling. Then in slow motion, she lowered into a cross-legged seated position and folded her arms over her chest.
So defiant, this one. “Ah. Then, you know what’s to come?”
“Mayhap.” No deception colored her tone. Only solid truth. At least, how she perceived it.
Foresight? He wouldn’t rule out the rare attribute.
“Well, aren’t you a bundle of surprises,” he murmured. But if Brigid had tapped into the mysteries of power creation, her mere belief would be enough to fuel the reality.
“Hmmm…” A meditative calm settled over her. She withdrew into some distant inner realm.
He took full advantage of her distracted state and extended subtle probing waves from their woven-magick sphere in toward her, assessing her technique.
Surprises, indeed. His brows lifted as he observed her unique power exchange.
You’re good. Too
good. Her burgeoning talent at manipulating energy defied explanation. “Tell me how you’ve learned to harness energy.”
If she’d heard his demand, she ignored it. For a full inhale, slow exhale, then another inhale, her expression remained serene. Toward the middle of the second exhalation, her lips parted. “Nay.” The soft-spoken word fell with heavy finality.
“Not on your own,” he worked aloud. No one could’ve mastered frequency on that level alone. Not with any speed. Her power bursts would have hit his radar long before now if any significant time had passed. Magick wielding, rare as it was, had a distinct learning curve. “Who’s been teaching you?” Not that he expected a forthright answer from the hellion. But the idea of brutal interrogation soured his stomach. Complicated his endeavor as well.
“I’ll not be helpin’ you.”
And yet, he’d been tasked to “help” her.
And stop her.
He stifled a laugh at the ridiculous irony.
“So, do I end you now?” He hadn’t decided. The dual threads of his mission, their urgent constant vibration, remained equal. One protected her. The other condemned her. Neither spiked as priority over the other.
“Set me free and find out.” Spoken so low, only his preternatural hearing detected the words.
“Tsk-tsk. Threatening your judge and jury never ends well.”
“’Tis no threat.” Her statement registered louder, near conversational. “Imprisonin’ me is no way to decide.”
“It’s not?”
“Nay. Watch and see.”
Oh, he was watching. The female piqued his curiosity.
“I’ve got all the time in the worlds.” He folded his arms and cast a cool glance her way. No point in revealing exactly how interested he’d become.
Long seconds dragged by. A minute. Then a few. Nothing happened.
Brigid simply sat there, motionless.
Yet with the patience born of thousands of human lifetimes, he waited, ready for anything.
Midday approached, marking well over an hour since she’d last spoken.