Witchlock

by Dianna Love

  His father had given it to him when he was ten, saying he’d had it made by a silversmith in his father’s Navajo tribe. She’d find a nice safe place to put it where he could easily find the belt when he chose to wear it, which wasn’t often.

  Scanning the area again and not seeing the belt, she asked, “Where’d you leave it?”

  He lifted an eyebrow at that. “On the floor with everything else last night. I was in too much of hurry to pick up my clothes.” Then he winked at her.

  Maybe she was making too big a deal over her perception of the problem. Maybe there was no problem and her insecurities were rising up to choke her.

  She trusted Storm. Now she needed to prove it by showing him that she wouldn’t react every time a problem arose. They’d eat, talk and get everything out on the table so they could make a decision on how to move forward. Storm would live here and they’d make this work.

  He muttered, “The belt should be right here,” and kept looking around, but the room was not that big.

  Sliding on a boot, Evalle glanced over at the door.

  It was ajar.

  She said, “Have you gone out to the kitchen this morning?”

  Storm’s gaze went to the same spot and he started that way. “No.”

  He strode out the door and was gone by the time Evalle came to her feet to follow.

  Storm yelled, “Are you kidding me!”

  That was not his joking voice. That was his I-want-to-kill-something voice.

  Feenix squawked in a high-pitched, terrified screech.

  Evalle raced out to the living area to find Storm holding his half-eaten belt and glaring at Feenix, who was flying around, shooting out short bursts of fire with each squawk.

  Feenix would catch the place on fire if that continued.

  Lanna chased around beneath him. “Come here, Feenix.”

  This was far worse than the first night Storm had spent here. All of Evalle’s concerns had been nothing compared to this. She glanced at the buckle—or at the thirty percent of it that was left.

  No way to fix that, so she stepped past Storm to catch Feenix.

  Standing in the middle of the room, Evalle waved Lanna back and called out in a gentle voice, “It’s okay, Feenix. I’m here. Come to me, baby.”

  Lanna moved over to the side, for once not trying to interject her advice. She had a good heart, but interference was her middle name.

  Evalle had saved Feenix from a crazy sorcerer who’d created the gargoyle then decided Feenix was inferior because he hadn’t turned out to be a killer, like the huge, deadly creatures the sorcerer sent out to attack.

  Feenix had been marked as food.

  It had taken him a while not to react to any sudden movement.

  The squawking got quieter. He flapped back and forth across the room for a moment while she kept talking to him in a soothing voice. “Come on, sweetie.”

  He made one last circle and flapped slowly down to her open arms. She hugged him to her. He shook like a miniature earthquake, complete with occasional puffs of smoke and frightened grunting. He tucked his wings. She stroked his back and cooed to him until the only noise was a low rumble in his chest.

  When she turned to Storm, no emotion showed on his face, but he was gripping the ruined belt with white knuckles that attested to how difficult it was for him to contain his anger.

  Feenix lifted one of his pudgy little hands and spit something into it, then deposited that in Evalle’s hand.

  The second yellow diamond that had been an eye in the buckle.

  She walked over and placed it on the counter between her and Storm.

  When Storm didn’t pick it up or say anything, she said, “I’m sorry, Storm. I know it’s not replaceable.”

  He broke his gaze from hers, looking away when he took a breath then said, “No big deal.”

  Then he turned and walked into the bedroom, but not before she’d caught the grimace on his face from the pain that lie had cost him.

  Lanna started in, “I am sorry, Evalle. I was listening to iPod music and did not realize Feenix left room.”

  Evalle turned to Lanna. “It’s not your fault. Feenix is my responsibility. You’ve been wonderful to stay here all week and keep him company.”

  “And hide from wizard.”

  “That, too, but you might have been more comfortable somewhere else.”

  “This was good place to stay. I like being with you and Feenix. And Storm.” Lanna had spent the past week with Evalle, because Quinn had needed time away to mourn Kizira’s death and a safe place to leave the young woman.

  Lanna reached for a wide headband, which she pulled over her head then up over her curls, not taming them so much as containing the mass. She’d put on a pair of jeans that rode low on her hips, and a bright red sweatshirt.

  Evalle had gotten used to having Lanna around, but she needed more room for this many people. Still, Evalle said, “You’re always welcome.” It was true.

  “Thank you, but I am too many wheels.”

  Evalle cocked her head until she realized what Lanna was saying.

  “You mean a third wheel?”

  Tugging the headband until she had it the way she wanted it, Lanna said, “Yes. Third wheel. You and Storm need your time and I am ready to go. Cousin is back in Atlanta.”

  “Quinn’s back? You’re sure?”

  “Yes, I feel him.” But she didn’t look happy about it.

  “What’s the matter, Lanna?”

  “Cousin is sad, very sad.” She studied on what she was saying and added, “Dark.”

  That did not sound like Quinn, but the man had watched the woman he loved die in his arms. Evalle would be dark, too, in his place.

  In fact, she’d be just as dark inside if this didn’t work out with Storm. He’d made her his mate.

  Could he unmate her?

  The question she should be asking was—would he?

  ~*~*~*~

  Storm took three deep breaths to bring his blood pressure back down so his head didn’t explode.

  He looked at the belt buckle his father had given him.

  In fact, his father had sent a request back to a relative in their Navajo tribe in Arizona while Storm and his father still lived in South America with the Ashaninka people.

  Yes, it was something with deep sentimental value, but his father had taught him to care for people, not things.

  He traced a finger over what was left of the ruined piece of art and swallowed hard, trying to let go of how much he cared for this buckle.

  The silver and diamonds meant nothing to Storm, only that it was a tangible reminder of his dad.

  It might be easier to let go of his anger if Storm believed it had been an accident, but the gargoyle had snuck in here and taken his belt out of the bedroom.

  One of the diamonds was still in place, staring at him like a macabre, one-eyed mask.

  Storm had to get out of here and clear his mind.

  Evalle’s empathic gift was not as strong as his, but she would know what he was feeling. Even he couldn’t hide his anger right now and the longer he stayed here the more it would upset her.

  His phone buzzed.

  He checked the text from Tzader: I need you to go over what happened with hunting the troll killer. It would be simpler if we did it at headquarters. No point in bringing Evalle out during daylight. You can relay any new information to her.

  At least now Storm had a reason to leave. That had to be better than saying he needed some air to clear his head. He sent back an affirmative.

  Then Tzader added: Quinn’s on his way to headquarters and wanted to know if you would bring Lanna with you.

  Storm replied: Yes.

  He stuffed the belt and his clothes back into the duffel and left it in the corner, then grabbed his leather jacket and shrugged it on.

  When he reached the living room, Evalle was still walking and humming to Feenix, who’d snuggled even closer.

  Storm asked Lanna, “What do
you need to do before you’re ready to go?” Storm glanced at Evalle then looked away. “I’ve got to leave for a bit.”

  Evalle swung around to watch both of them. “Why?”

  “Tzader texted me about coming into headquarters and asked if I’d bring Lanna. Quinn will meet us there.”

  Lanna gave Evalle a smug look. “I told you Cousin was back.” Then she picked up the handle of an old rolling suitcase. “I am packed.”

  Evalle eyed Storm. “I didn’t get a telepathic message, but Tzader texted you?”

  He could see how that might not sit well with her. “Because he needs me to debrief everyone on the troll killer hunt.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Evalle started toward the bedroom and Feenix’s wings flapped quickly. She stopped and patted him again.

  Maybe getting out of the way would help her calm Feenix down, too.

  Storm added, “Tzader said it wasn’t necessary for you to come out in daylight to make this meeting since I can catch you up on anything when I get back.”

  “Did he specifically say not to bring me?”

  “No, but he just doesn’t want to have you travel in daylight when you don’t have to.” Why was she being so edgy about this? He’d think she would be glad to avoid the sun and headquarters, which meant interacting with Sen.

  Hell, Storm would just as soon pass on this meeting.

  “Fine.”

  He hated that word. It was the most dangerous word in the female language. “What’s wrong?”

  She glared at him.

  What had he said wrong?

  Evalle glanced at Lanna, then back at Storm. He got it. They had an audience. There was nowhere for a private conversation unless he cast a spell to protect their words, which he didn’t have the time for right now even if Evalle looked receptive, which she didn’t.

  He had a stop to make before he went to headquarters, and that stop had become even more important now.

  He grabbed his keys off the counter, causing them to jangle.

  Feenix lifted his head at the sound and looked from the keys to Storm’s face. Feenix hadn’t touched silver keys that had been left out in the kitchen, yet he’d gone for Storm’s belt in the bedroom.

  Evalle cleared her throat and said, “Don’t forget the other diamond.”

  Storm picked it up only because he didn’t know if it would bother her more if he left it sitting there. He had never questioned his instincts around Evalle, but at the moment he was off balance and didn’t like it. “I’ll be back in time to pick you up and meet Adrianna.”

  She gave a wooden nod.

  He stepped over to her, but on the opposite side of where Feenix had dropped his head onto her shoulder. Storm gave her a long kiss on her forehead and whispered, “Get some more rest, okay?”

  “Right.”

  Another curt answer. He couldn’t do anything about this until he managed to take the strain off Evalle and that wouldn’t happen by him staying around right now. “Call me if you need anything.”

  “If I do, I’ll send a message to Tzader since you’ll be with him.”

  He started to say something, but she tipped up her chin in challenge. Evalle didn’t deal with emotions well and being uncomfortable made her combative.

  Much like a cornered animal.

  He hated that he was the cause of more anxiety.

  She added in a flat voice, “Just flip the switch that activates the power for the elevator. I took the warding off the controls when we came in last night so that you could leave when you wanted.”

  Storm closed his eyes for a minute at the turbulent emotion beneath her last words.

  ...you could leave when you wanted.

  She’d designed a complicated, warded security system that involved a constantly changing code to prevent anyone or anything from accessing the elevator. That would be no problem for Storm if not for requiring the ability to manipulate the lock with kinetic power, which he did not possess.

  He’d joked that she could build one hell of a prison.

  She hadn’t caught the joke.

  He would fix this mess as soon as he returned. The sooner he left and handed off Lanna then made his report, the sooner he could get back here. With Lanna gone, he’d have an easier time talking to Evalle.

  Lanna walked to the door, keeping track of every word said and not said. She started to speak and Storm shook his head, pointing for her to leave. She sighed and obeyed his silent order.

  When Storm reached the door, Evalle still had her back to him.

  Feenix watched Storm over her shoulder. The gargoyle patted Evalle while keeping his gaze pinned on Storm and saying, “Mine.”

  Evalle hugged him back. She probably thought Feenix had been speaking to her. “Yes, I’m yours baby.”

  But Storm and Feenix both knew for whom that message had been intended.

  That gargoyle may not know a lot of words, but he knew the power words when it came to Evalle.

  Feenix pfft quietly in Storm’s direction and a puff of smoke curled from his snout.

  Storm shut the door and caught up to Lanna.

  He knew for sure that he could straighten out this tension between him and Evalle, but he had no idea what to do about Feenix’s territorial behavior.

  How did you have a conversation with a gargoyle that had the vocabulary of a three-year-old child?

  But Feenix was far wiser than a child.

  And that little critter meant the world to Evalle. Storm was the last person who would ever separate them or be the cause of conflict between those two. He definitely did not want to put Evalle in a position of having to choose between him and Feenix.

  She’d been put through enough in her life.

  He wanted her as relaxed and happy as she’d been the last night they’d made love in the backyard of his Midtown house.

  He should have realized the turmoil he’d cause her by moving in when she’d never lived with anyone, not even a family.

  They hadn’t discussed it.

  He’d spent hours making love to Evalle that night outside, because he hadn’t wanted to take her around the taint the witch doctor had left inside.

  Evalle invited him to move in with her, and all he could think about was finally being able to keep her close all night long. Or all day long. He didn’t give a damn as long as he could hold her and love her the way she deserved to be loved.

  But his presence was creating discord in the one place that had served as her safe haven before he showed up. She loved with her whole being and she’d suffer in silence before uttering a word of complaint.

  She deserved to be happy in her own home.

  He would make sure that happened.

  Castle KievRus, Ukraine

  Chapter 12

  Veronika lifted the hood of her signature red robe and let it fall behind her. She studied Tegus Bilguun, the twenty-six-year-old, male sorcerer draped spread-eagle against the gray stone wall in the dungeon of her family’s Ukraine castle. Chains anchored to the wall secured his wrists and ankles so that he hung a foot off the floor, wearing only jeans. With blond hair, aristocratic nose and chin, plus amber-gold eyes, the man gave her an attractive view.

  This castle was one of six similar holdings in different parts of Europe, and her ancestors had lived here for over a thousand years, but they hadn’t built this structure.

  Her bloodline came from that of royalty, not laborers.

  Her ancestors had also been a bunch of bleeding hearts, but she hadn’t been born with that affliction.

  “Who the hell are you?” the sorcerer yelled when he realized he was no longer alone.

  “Veronika of the KievRus coven.”

  “There’s no such coven. My family would know.”

  “We have been in existence since the ninth century.”

  “Sorry, but I’m not a history fan. Give me back my cellphone and I’ll look it up. Oh, that’s right, I won’t be able to hold anything again after you fucked up my hands!” he scream
ed. He tried to move his hands, then gasped in pain. “You will so pay for this, bitch. Your death will be slow and painful.”

  “I think not,” she answered, stating the obvious. She’d had his hands sandwiched between boards, then drilled all the way through with half-inch bolts holding them encased. Blood still dripped from between the boards, running down stones that had been cut and placed many centuries ago.

  This dungeon had held other powerful beings in the past, but none so significant as this sorcerer.

  She’d have preferred for Tegus to be free to use his hands, because that would provide a true test of her powers. But she couldn’t risk having miscalculated her progress and allow him to harm her.

  Her window of time narrowed with each day.

  He shouted, “What do you want?”

  “You’ll be the first to become part of the greatest power ever seen in this world, which will rise again very soon.”

  Blood drizzled faster down the wall when he banged the wood against the stones with his struggles.

  She informed him, “You only hurt yourself. You can’t destroy the wood slats. That wood will not catch fire or break, short of Thor striking it with his hammer.”

  This sorcerer might be young, but just one flick of his fingers could kill.

  Even something as simple as the right combination of words could be used as a weapon.

  She should know.

  At the age of six, she’d stopped the heart of her family’s pet wolfhound, even though she’d misspoken the words given to her by an old crone who knew Veronika would be the one to revive the KievRus. So often, it was the intention that really counted in a spell.

  The family had warned her against testing her majik as the time for Witchlock drew close, but she would not be careless in these tests.

  Tegus spit out a slew of derogatory remarks. Words to shield his pain and save his pride. When he wore himself down, he yelled, “Use my blood for a curse and my family will find you. When they do, they’ll wipe whatever KievRus you claim still live from the face of this world.”

  He thought she intended to use his blood to fuel a spell?

  She was no dark witch who wasted her time on such things. That was for those who lacked vision for witchcraft. Those covens were no better than the mealy-mouthed white witches who refused to dirty their hands with dark arts. No, Veronika had known her destiny from the moment she’d read the history of the original KievRus coven.