Magick (The Dragonfly Chronicles Book 2)

by Heather McCollum

  Merewin turned away under Drakkina’s silent scrutiny. She sniffed and wiped quickly at the wetness on her cheeks. “It is good she can say goodbye to her mother.” Merewin struggled to keep her voice neutral.

  “So it seems,” Drakkina commented as she watched Dalla.

  “To visit where her mother lies,” Merewin paused to wipe at the hot tears she seemed unable to control. She looked at Drakkina. “Where,” she swallowed, “does my mother lie?”

  Drakkina’s eyebrow rose slightly. “Lie?”

  “Her body, after the demons killed her? Did they,” Merewin’s face pinched, “torture her first?”

  Drakkina’s form floated closer to Merewin. Drakkina’s hand reached, but paused as if she wasn’t sure. The spirit pulled it back into the folds of her robe. “Gilla died quickly, child.”

  Merewin trembled as relief surged. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

  “They hit her with the force needed to kill a full Wiccan, being unaware that she’d transferred all her protective powers to her daughters. A mere woman had not even a second of pain before changing to dust. And a good thing for that too, as evil, when fooled, becomes viciously cruel.”

  Merewin pushed past the dark words without letting them settle in. “So there is no body anywhere?”

  Drakkina’s brow wrinkled again. “In truth, her death occurred in the future of your plane of time.” She indicated the area around them. “You will die long before Gilla’s birth or death. So no, there is no body.”

  “No place to go to say goodbye,” Merewin murmured as Hauk walked away from Dalla, toward the slope leading up. He ignored the winding path, his long legs eating up the steepness as if climbing simple steps.

  “You can come to the stone circle, Merewin,” Drakkina said and Merewin turned, watching the old woman’s body fade. “Gilla’s soul is timeless even if her body is not.”

  “The circle to the west.”

  “Yes.” Drakkina completely faded. “Your barbarian knows where it is,” Drakkina’s voice floated away on the wind as Hauk stepped over the ridge. “You will come together, in the future.”

  Hauk’s body emerged from the ridgeline with each step. Merewin rubbed at her cheeks and masked her sadness with what she hoped was a sedate but happy expression.

  Hauk stepped up and his gaze narrowed. “You’ve been crying.”

  So much for her sedate, but happy expression. “It’s a sad place,” she said. Merewin motioned toward Dalla. “Yet grieving can heal.”

  Hauk rested his finger beneath Merewin’s chin. Gently, he raised it so that she had to look into his eyes. “You are healing then?”

  Merewin stared back, tears pressing hard. Was she still healing? Hadn’t she done that long ago under Navlin’s care? Or had she ever really dealt with the pain of losing her family? Seeing Dalla’s raw need for closure scratched away Merewin’s carefully knitted wound. “So it seems,” Merewin repeated Drakkina’s emotionless words.

  “That’s why you understand Dalla so well, then.” Hauk reached out to rub a tear that escaped. “After the first course of tears and sobs, she seemed,” Hauk glanced down at Dalla’s small body still in the gravesite, “better, calmer.”

  Merewin pulled her face from his hand to see Dalla, too. “Better?” Dalla seemed better, his own words. A ball of tight energy loosened in her chest. She’d been right. The girl did need to say goodbye.

  Hauk pulled Merewin in front, blocking her view of Dalla. “You are healing my daughter. Thank you.”

  Merewin nodded, the corners of her mouth turning upward. Hauk reached forward and caught the curling wisps of Merewin’s hair tugged free by the wind. “She confessed to me down there.” Hauk let the wind tease the hair away from his fingers. “Cutting your hair and throwing your stone.” His fingers moved to the exposed skin under the clasp of the cloak where the jade had rested most of her life. Merewin still wasn’t used to its absence. The feeling was akin to loneliness. Somehow Hauk’s touch seemed to lessen the ache of loss. Hauk’s thumb caressed a circle lightly along the skin.

  “She was brave to tell me and has convinced me of her remorse,” he added. “You may ask for her hair to be cut as punishment.”

  Merewin couldn’t quite catch her breath with his warm fingers tracing her collarbone. “What?” she stammered trying to focus on the amulet of Thor’s hammer that lay in the hollow of Hauk’s throat. “I mean, nay,” she shook her head, swallowing past rushing sensation along her skin, under his fingers. “I should go talk to her.”

  “Mmmm...” His gaze trailed over the same area as his fingers. “Aye, you should. Then we can leave for Spring House.”

  Merewin leaned away slowly. Would he pursue her to remain in contact with her skin? Hauk let his fingers drop and Merewin tamped down the immediate feel of isolation. She turned and walked down the hill, breaking visual contact with him. Merewin filled her lungs with a cleansing breath of crisp air to calm her pulse and release the tension that ached low in her body.

  Hauk’s voice followed. “Aye we will sleep under the beams of Spring House tonight. I have a desire to try my new oak door.”

  Merewin didn’t turn but her heart pounded behind the skin that still tingled from his touch. He couldn’t see the hint of a smile on her flushed face. Her feet nearly flew down the hillside. She felt his eyes on her back the entire way.

  Dalla looked up from the grass as Merewin stopped. Heavy, red eyes blinked. The girl stood slowly, as if she suffered from age. The energy that had propelled Merewin down the hillside still coursed and created a feeling of urgency that Merewin forced aside. This must be handled correctly, the right words said, the lesson taught with love and understanding. Merewin sighed inward. She had no idea what to say.

  “Dalla,” Merewin began.

  “I’m so sorry I threw your stone. I didn’t know it belonged to your mother. I never would have thrown it. I only have one comb from my mother. They didn’t take it because I was wearing it, but they took everything else and I’m so, so sorry I...” the rest came out in garbled sobs.

  Merewin opened her arms and Dalla fell against her, wails drowning out the soothing words Merewin tried to give. Merewin wrapped her cloak around the girl and hugged her, resting her chin on the child’s head. Merewin’s own tears poured unheeded, wetting Dalla’s strawberry colored tresses. Merewin swayed slightly as she’d seen mothers do with their bairns. Dalla’s arms gripped with the might of the desperate. As if letting go would allow all the darkness in, crushing, consuming.

  Merewin kissed the top of Dalla’s hair and continued to sway gently until the sobs died down.

  “We seem to have a lot in common,” Merewin whispered, listening to the little sniffs against her chest. “We both lost our mothers.” Merewin felt Dalla burrow further into her. “And we both survived.” Dalla stiffened and Merewin pulled back a little to look down. “I think I have a hard time with that one,” she squinted her eyes, not quite focusing on Dalla but more so inside herself. “Me surviving that is.” Merewin looked closer at the young girl. “Mayhaps ye do too?”

  “She left me behind,” Dalla said, with a new downpour of tears. “I think I was meant to go, too.”

  Merewin looked down at this little life in her arms, so young, innocent, just starting. So much like she had been that day long ago. Merewin shook her head. “As long as ye live, yer mother lives as part of ye.” Merewin remembered Gilla’s words before she threaded Merewin away. “Mothers die in peace when they know their bairns are safe.” Dalla didn’t look completely convinced. “Because ye lived, Ingun beat death. Ye survived.”

  Merewin felt her own tears, hot on her cheeks as she stared into Dalla’s big blue ones. “I survived.” Merewin wiped her tears with the back of one hand and tried to smile. “There was nothing I could do to save my mother, but I made her happy, I made her win by living.” Merewin cupped Dalla’s cold cheeks in her hands. “And ye will help yer mama to win against death by living, too. Living a long life, full of love
and happiness.”

  More tears streamed out of Dalla’s already-drowned eyes. She had stored up three years of them, and now they watered the land above her mother.

  “Do ye understand? Ye must live fully so yer mother will win. Live for her, even when ye doona feel like it.” Merewin felt Dalla nod as she pulled her back into the embrace. “Aye, I forgive ye for throwing the stone.” Merewin felt Dalla’s arms tighten. “We will find it in the spring.” Merewin leaned back to meet Dalla’s gaze. “Together, we’ll find it together.”

  “Aye.” Dalla nodded vigorously.

  “Good.” Merewin smiled. She sighed long. “I’m getting tired. Grieving is good for the soul, but it is a whole lot of work.”

  Dalla’s mouth twitched upward at the corners. She hiccoughed. Merewin looked to where Hauk stood. The sun had begun its decent behind him, outlining his imposing stance in golden light. He looked the giant barbarian full of human strength, but he also resembled his god Thor, magnificent and all powerful. A shudder ran down Merewin’s body. Her feet seemed rooted to the earth, yet her heart beat fast as if sensing something more wonderfully urgent.

  Dalla grasped her hand making Merewin jump. “Time to go home, Merewin. Papa waves to us.”

  “Aye.” Merewin walked next to Dalla toward the ridge.

  Dalla turned back. “Goodbye. Don’t worry. I’m alive, and I’m strong.”

  Merewin looked at the outline of the dragonship. “Goodbye,” she whispered, looking up into the clear sky while Dalla pulled at her hand.

  ****

  Merewin leaned back against the high edge of the giant bathing bucket. Vivien had filled the contraption with steaming water where it stood in the center of her small room. They’d returned to Spring House merely two hours ago, and here she was up to her neck in the most wonderfully warm water she’d ever felt.

  Merewin had never sat in a bathing bucket before, having taken all her baths outdoors in the stream that wound its way to the lake near Navlin’s hut. Merewin closed her eyes at the delicious sensation of warmth wrapping around her body, invading every intimate crevice with heat. No wonder Hauk bathed daily.

  Merewin worked the fragrant soap into slippery bubbles. The smell painted images of wildflowers and sunny meadows behind her closed eyes. She ran the refreshing fragrance along her limbs and breasts as they peeked above the surface. She lifted her dripping, washed hair to lie over the back of the tub. Even though she had always loved her long locks, she had to admit that the unwanted shearing made washing her hair much quicker.

  “Mmmm,” she sighed, sinking as low as she could through the fine skim of white soap floating on the surface. In the privacy of the water, Merewin ran her hands along her body. The warmth lay heavy along her stomach, her hips and between her thighs. She touched herself.

  “Enjoying your bath?” Hauk’s deep voice felt like an intimate caress. Merewin gasped as her eyes snapped open. She sank up to her chin. He couldn’t see beneath the water, could he? She twisted in the basin to look at him over her shoulder.

  Hauk’s body engulfed the small doorway. His hair left trickles of water running down his bare chest to disappear into the cloth loosely tied around his hips.

  Merewin swallowed hard as heat rushed through, heat that had nothing to do with the cooling water and everything to do with the thought of what his cloth hid.

  “I...I,” Merewin fumbled, “it’s warm.”

  Hauk frowned slightly and moved toward a bucket. “If it’s too hot, I can add some cool water.”

  “Nay.” Merewin pulled a hand out ready to ward the cold water off. “I’m just not used to a heated bath. I bathed outdoors in Northumbria.”

  Hauk set the bucket back down, and Merewin noticed that the cloth around his hips dipped a bit lower.

  “The heat works on the muscles.” He clasped hands together and stretched them over his head.

  Ironically, though surrounded by water, Merewin’s mouth dried up so thoroughly her tongue stuck to its roof. He looked at her expectantly so she nodded, a nervous half smile painted on her lips.

  Merewin pushed up a bit to ease the cramp in her folded legs. Her wet shoulders and the tops of her breasts rose above the waterline. Hauk’s look ran along the thin line that separated her from his gaze. She fought the urge to sink back under.

  “Has Dalla fallen asleep?” Merewin asked.

  Hauk’s gaze moved back to her eyes. “Aye, exhausted from the trip.”

  “Healing is tiring.”

  “You are tired then?”

  She could say yes.

  “Nay,” popped out. An arrogant grin threatened the corners of Hauk’s mouth. “Although the warmth of this water has relaxed me so much, I do believe I’m becoming sleepy.”

  “Hmmph.” Hauk frowned. “Then it is time to come out.”

  Merewin’s heart hammered in her chest despite the small smile his quick response elicited. She looked at him as he stared down impatiently.

  “Up then.”

  “Not with ye watching me.”

  “I’ve touched you, woman. I’ve claimed you twice.”

  Merewin’s face beamed with her blush, but she stubbornly refusing to move.

  “Ye claimed me with words.”

  “And with my hands.”

  Merewin pursed her lips. He would have to haul her out.

  Hauk finally grunted and strode toward the curtain. “Dry off then and come to my room.”

  Merewin frowned at the command. Once she heard the new oak door close behind him, she rose out of the water and wrapped in a linen cloth. She should just crawl into her own bed. He’d learn that she didn’t respond to commands. Let him come to her again if he truly wanted her.

  Bela lay curled in a ball, but Merewin knew her pet would wake and leave soon, as usual. Then Merewin would be alone. Cold, it was cold with the wind rushing along the floor. She lifted toes up and ran fingers through wet hair. She had no fire, no thick furs, no large body to keep her warm. She stuck her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout.

  “By the Earth Mother,” she whispered to the mocking curtain. “Where do I really want to lie this night.” She shivered as a breeze blew in. Had the blasted man left the front door open to push her toward his heat? Merewin poked her head out of the curtain. Nay, the door was closed but her toes curled on the thin rug as another stray wind stung the bare tips.

  She looked over to the oak door. He’d have a fire going for certain. Plus she’d become accustomed to the deep softness of his large bed and countless furs. The man liked to sleep in luxury. Luxury could be a good thing.

  Merewin turned to find her sleeping gown and stopped. What protection would it be? To don it would only make her look shy like the maid she was, weak and unknowledgeable. Merewin raised her chin in the air and tossed the gown back on her frozen pallet. So she was unknowledgeable, as a maid should be, but she wouldn’t act naïve. Hauk was right. He’d touched her intimately. If he was going to see her, let him see her proud, willing, a slave to no one.

  Merewin grabbed a fresh cloth and wrapped it around her chilled body. Her hair had begun to dry into long curls that brushed down to the tips of peaked nipples. Bela sat up on her pallet and stretched little paws, waking for her nightly hunt. Merewin looked at her friend. “I’m going.” The little mink’s shoulders rose slightly.

  Merewin slid through the curtain. No hiding for her, better to meet one’s fears than to hide from them. The door swung inward, and Merewin stepped lightly inside. A comfortable wash of warmth greeted her in the dark room. She’d been right. There was a bright fire in the hearth, which cast the room in shadowy glow. Merewin’s attention flitted to the large bed covered with soft pelts. Somehow the luxury seemed less appealing than she recalled. She swallowed past the fear clawing up her throat and forced her chin to rise a little higher. No fear. Merewin moved to the bed. It was empty and vast.

  “I am here,” Hauk’s voice came seconds before his body shifted out of the darkness near the window slit and i
nto the glow. Had he seen her jump?

  Merewin desperately hoped not. Her courage sustained her in this predicament. Without it, she would become some simpering slave. Determination moved her feet, step after step on the cold floor toward him. She stopped before the fire, its heat branding her skin.

  Hauk wore only the towel from before, his chest bare with a light trail of hair curling down to disappear below the cloth line. The firelight crested and fell along the sharp contours of his biceps as he folded arms across his chest. His face was unreadable, serious, watchful.

  Had he been waiting for her? Was he angry that she’d taken her time? There was no way to know. She took a side step closer to the heat, letting its fingers cover all sides of her body. Merewin kept her gaze trained on Hauk’s piercing stare. With a small tug she dropped the sheet. Despite the warmth of the fire, a draft brushed her bare skin as the soft linen pooled at her ankles.

  “And I am here,” Merewin said softly, so her voice wouldn’t squeak, which would totally dissolve the effect she was trying to deliver. Calm, confident, unafraid of his big, oh so barbarically seductive body.

  Merewin drew a quick breath when Hauk’s gaze flitted down her naked form. Her glance moved to the fire that suddenly cracked, hissing a stream of heat toward the ceiling. In silence she turned back to him. Had the mask slipped? The expression looked the same, but something had changed. A glint in his eyes, a tensing in his jaw. He uncrossed his arms and took a step. Stand yer ground, stand yer ground, Merewin repeated through her head.

  Hauk raised his open hand and ran his palm down the side of her hair. His finger followed the ending curl where it teased the tip of her breast.

  “Beautiful and bold, with the spirit of a warrior.” His voice sounded hoarse, controlled. His hands rested on her shoulders, a gentle cloak of heaviness and warmth. He ran his hands down her arms to elbows. A grin relaxed the hard lines of his face. “We will match well.”

  Merewin continued to stand there. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say or do. He stared at her expectantly.