Captive Spirit

by Anna Windsor

  Andy grinned and scooted forward on the couch. “Watch the smaller glass, Duncan.”

  The center of the little mirrors flared. Duncan’s muscles twitched beneath Bela’s hands. “I can feel that in the dinar.” He tapped his fingers against the coin. “A little buzz.”

  Bela kissed the top of his head. “The coin’s metal has similar properties to the glass. Camille’s been trying to figure out how to make other metals projective—hence all the explosions in my lab.”

  Duncan relaxed under her moving hands again, watching as light grew inside the glass. It swirled in circles like the sounds through the chimes, keeping time with Camille’s dance.

  Camille raised her arms.

  In one of the mirrors, Cynda’s face popped into view, with a backdrop Bela recognized from Headcase Quarters. More fire Sibyls appeared in the other pieces of glass, all key to the New York communications relay.

  Duncan’s gaze fixed on the active pieces of glass. “That … looks like picturephones, or Internet chat with cameras, only clearer.”

  On the table, Camille whirled, arms over her head, tapping rhythms with her feet. When the channels opened completely, she gave her fellow fire Sibyls all the information they had learned from tonight’s hunt and interrogation, leaving out how they had managed to track the poisoned energy in the first place.

  “Got it,” Cynda said as the other fire Sibyls signed off, letting their glasses go dark. “I’ll get the OCU after financial and personal records for Samuel Griffen, and my triad will hunt this Rebecca kid on patrol, like the others—but I think we only have three groups out tonight. It may go slow. Get some sleep. We’ll call you when we’ve got her secured.”

  A few seconds later, her glass went dark, too.

  Duncan reached up and rubbed Bela’s wrist. “Why don’t you just use cell phones?”

  Andy lounged back on her end of the couch, getting the cushions and the floor damp from her wet hair and leathers. “I’m the only one who can pull that off—if I haven’t drowned mine recently. The longer I’m a Sibyl, the harder it gets.”

  Camille finished closing the channels and hopped off the table. “It’s like computers. Even with elemental grounding, cell phones are so sensitive that our elemental energy tends to kill them in a few days. Besides, you can’t send people and objects through cell phones.”

  Duncan rolled his shoulders into Bela’s massage. “You send people through those mirrors?”

  “Not through the mirrors, exactly.” Camille unbelted her scabbard and got out her oils to work her blade. Fire Sibyls had to take special care with their weapons, since they were always setting them on fire. “The mirrors are just gateways to channels of energy in the earth. We can put people or things in the channels, and they can travel through the adjoining mirror in seconds, or just a few minutes.”

  “You could go to Ireland and be back before I got downstairs.” Bela kissed the top of Duncan’s head again, enjoying his clear, fresh scent. Icy mountain streams, fresh snow—it was perfect.

  “A Sibyl could travel like that, fast and often.” Camille sat on a chair arm and ran her rag along her curved blade. “It’s harder on humans. And we found out with Jake Lowell a few years ago that it strips demons down to their demon form. Not something you need to try, Duncan.”

  On the couch across from her, Andy started to snore. A steady stream of water dripped from her hand, which was hanging off the cushion. From upstairs in Dio’s rooms came the sound of swearing, wind, and big stacks of paper being shifted around. Camille drew a deep breath, then blew a whispery lick of fire against her blade, heating the oil until the whole room smelled like tangy mandarin oranges.

  “It’s never boring around here, Angel. I’ll give you that.” Duncan got himself up from the couch and gave Bela a hug. “But what if I don’t want to visit Ireland while you go downstairs?”

  When he pulled back, his gorgeous gray eyes teased her. Bela took both of his hands and pulled him out of the living room and into the kitchen, kissing him as soon as the door swung shut. Duncan took over then, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her up. He pulled her against his chest and carried her all the way down the stairs to her room. They made love hard and fast, and a few hours later, when Bela woke next to Duncan, she couldn’t help slipping her fingers around his delicious length.

  He came out of sleep slowly as she kissed him, first on the mouth, then the throat, running her nails across him. Her lips moved lower, sampling the scars on his chest, and his rumble of pleasure woke up her whole body.

  By the time she moved her mouth across his waist, he was hard, just like she wanted. His low growls at the touch of her fingertips became a groan when she pressed her lips against the tip of his shaft. When she tasted him, his back arched, and Bela wrapped her whole hand around his cock.

  “I won’t last long like this.” Duncan’s hand made a fist in her hair, tugging it gently, the huskiness in his voice sending tingles all over her body.

  His skin burned against her lips, and she drank in his salty taste. Fresh, like the rest of him. Ocean water after a cleansing storm. Delicious. She gripped him tight and brought him deeper into her mouth, moving down, down, until her fingers bumped her lips.

  “Bela.” This time he barely got the word out. His hips moved, pumping even though she could tell he was trying to hold himself back. She moaned against his sensitive skin, and he pumped harder, and harder still when she trailed her tongue along the vein on the soft underside, squeezing and stroking with her hand.

  He shuddered each time she made a sound, each time she flicked her tongue against the shaft, the base, the tip. Her fingers toyed with his sack, and that was all he could take.

  He moved away from her, pulling himself free. In the same motion, he slipped his arms around her and lifted her up until her head rested on the pillows. Then he crushed his lips against hers, taking her breath, taking her thoughts, and setting her absolutely on fire.

  His hands, everywhere, rubbing and stroking and touching.

  His lips so demanding. His tongue against hers, hers against his. He spread her legs with his knee, and she opened to him. Wet. Ready. Yes. Just the way he squeezed her breasts nearly made her explode.

  “I need you,” she whispered into his next kiss. “I need you now!”

  The look he gave said, I adore you.

  It said, You’re mine now. Mine forever.

  Bela’s heart thrummed, so fast. She ached everywhere. She wanted him deep, and she wanted him now, and she wanted him always, always, always.

  Duncan’s eyes gripped hers as he thrust himself inside her, one stroke, smooth and forceful, filling her up, then swallowing her scream with his mouth. Bela lifted her hips to meet him, over and over, clinging to his neck.

  “More,” she kept whispering, out of control. Her insides shook. The bed shook. Let everything shake, she didn’t give a damn. “More. Please, Duncan. More!”

  “I love you.” He drove himself deep, his voice a sensual rasp. “Everything. Every bit.”

  Bela couldn’t breathe anymore. Her breasts rubbed back and forth against his chest, and every time his coin touched her, she felt its low, humming vibration. All she could do was rock, rock, rock, taking everything, all of Duncan. Her legs locked against his thighs.

  So fast now. So hard.

  Bela’s consciousness broke free and melted into him, into the earth itself. She moaned, and kept moaning. Heat mingled with chills and blended with shudders and shaking and rocking, more rocking, and she kept right on moaning.

  Duncan’s lips claimed hers again, and Bela’s mind left her completely. She bucked and shoved against him, pleasure shaking her inside to out, and it wouldn’t stop, she couldn’t stand it, had to stand it, but she couldn’t. Duncan moved just right, drawing it out, winding her mind farther into the earth, into the power all around her and inside her, and when he came, she started moaning all over again.

  “I love you,” she whispered when she could talk. “I love y
ou.”

  He was still inside her when she fell asleep, still holding her, still kissing her, and she dreamed about making love to him all over again.

  Bela opened her eyes, disoriented, thinking she heard something, but not sure.

  Duncan pulled his muscled arm away from her belly, and they both sat up. The room was so dark, but then, it had no windows, so she couldn’t judge the time except by Sibyl instinct, which told her it was after midday but before nightfall.

  Duncan picked up his watch from the floor and squinted at it. “It’s about three in the afternoon, I think.”

  Somebody knocked, and smoke filtered under the door. “Bela?”

  “What the—? That’s Cynda.” Bela yanked the sheet over Duncan’s waist and her breasts, then called, “It’s okay. You can come in.”

  Cynda pushed the bedroom door open. The soft light of the basement hallway combined with Bela’s acute vision to reveal the depths of Cynda’s pallor and the size of her frown. She had her leathers on, and her hand was on her sword hilt. Flames played along Cynda’s fingers, everywhere she was touching that weapon.

  At the same moment, Bela became aware of strange energies in the house. Her quad, angry and upset. Riana and Merilee upstairs—doing what? Containing them? Holding them back?

  “What’s going on?” Bela blinked against the surge of anxiety ruining the absolute relaxation she’d been enjoying in Duncan’s arms. “Did you find Rebecca Kincaid?”

  “No.” Cynda’s flames expanded, covering her shoulders. “We found Reese Patterson. We found him in pieces all over his office.”

  Duncan went rigid beside Bela, and she turned to him immediately, getting more tense by the second.

  “When I disappeared.” Anger worked across Duncan’s face, and worry, and disbelief. He stared at the ceiling the way he did when he was trying to get John Cole to speak to him. “Before the ambush in the alley.”

  His voice trailed off, sharpening Bela’s anxiety to an acute sense of dread. He wasn’t making sense. This whole situation wasn’t making sense.

  Bela turned back to the door. “Why are you here, Cynda? What does this have to do with Duncan?”

  More flames erupted, until fire ringed Cynda’s body and a haze of smoke filled the bedroom. “Duncan needs to come with my triad to the townhouse—and I think he knows that.” Cynda’s frown shifted from determined to uncomfortable. “We don’t want to fight with you over this, Bela. Any of you. Please don’t make us.”

  Duncan shoved the sheet off his hips. “Nobody’s fighting anybody. I’ll come with you.” He swung his legs off the bed, grabbed his jeans, and stepped into them.

  Fear clawed Bela’s insides like she was the one with the demon inside. She scrambled out of the bed, but her mind wouldn’t tell her what to do next. She had no idea what was happening, but she didn’t want to be separated from Duncan—not like this. She wanted to grab him and push him up against the wall. Make an earth barrier he couldn’t cross. As for Cynda—

  This time when Bela swung toward the door, fists clenched, Cynda stepped back.

  “Close that damned door before I hurt you.” Earth energy shook Bela’s voice, and shook the room with it. “I mean it!”

  A tiny crack opened in the floor tiles, arrowing toward Cynda.

  The door slammed.

  Smoke from Cynda’s fire let Bela know she was still right outside, but at least she and Duncan had a little privacy now. Bela hurried to pull on her own jeans and blouse, but Duncan was already in his T-shirt, getting his badge and gun off the dresser.

  “Duncan, wait.” Bela left her shirt unbuttoned and grabbed his arm before he could stuff his badge in his pocket. “Stop! What are you doing?”

  “The papers your friends and the OCU would have found on Patterson’s desk were dated, signed, and time-stamped.” Duncan’s frown looked enough like Cynda’s to really scare Bela about how bad this situation might get. “John Cole’s will would have been there, with me as his beneficiary—and my last will and testament. Patterson wrote it out for me before I got jumped in the alley.”

  Last will and testament.

  That wouldn’t register at all.

  Duncan needing a will.

  Bela couldn’t add it all up until he pried his arm out of her fingers, then slipped his hands under her shirt, pressing his palms against her bare waist. “When I disappeared on you, I told you, it wasn’t my call. I didn’t take myself out of your bed and over to Patterson’s office. It was John. I just woke up there.”

  “John took you over and made you go to the lawyer’s office.” Bela pressed her cheek into his T-shirt and laced her fingers together behind his back. Squeezing. Wanting to keep him with her even as she started to grasp why he’d have to go with Cynda. “To see his will.”

  Duncan’s embrace felt so warm, so alive and solid and permanent. “If I’d had any sense, I would have put myself in some kind of quarantine right then—but it’s been crazy. Everything moved so fast, and truth be told, Angel, I didn’t want to be away from you.”

  Bela held on tighter, breathing him in, her eyes closed as she reached for any argument that might work. “But Patterson was alive if he did your will, right?”

  Duncan kissed the top of her head, his hands rubbing her bare back under her shirt. “He was alive when I left, but I don’t know if I went back, and neither do you.”

  She stared at him. “You’ve been with me every minute.”

  “We can’t know that.”

  Damn him for being so gentle. It kept her from getting as furious as she needed to get.

  “I could have been out wandering while you were sleeping,” Duncan said.

  “You weren’t.”

  Duncan held her in silence for a few seconds, then gently pushed her back from him, enough to look her in the eyes. “I want the Mothers to have a go at John, and I don’t want you there. And not like last time. I mean nowhere near the townhouse.”

  Bela’s chin dropped. The heat in her chest—anger? Disbelief? She couldn’t even tell, but this wasn’t happening. “You can’t be serious. If something goes wrong and the Mothers drive Cole out of your head, that’s it for you.” She shook her head. “No. We’ll clear this up some other way.”

  It was getting hard to breathe, but he was talking again, those gray-blue eyes loving and rational, his tone so careful and measured she wanted to knee him in the nuts.

  “I’m way past serious, and I know the risks, Angel. Besides, even if I know I wasn’t having blank time when Patterson got murdered, nobody else does. My papers are there, my prints. I was probably the last person to see him alive.”

  Duncan pushed away from her then, with more force than she’d expected.

  Bela stumbled backward as his eyes shifted to black, then back to gray again. “Shut up.” Duncan put his hand on the dinar. The veins in his temples stood out as his face turned red. “You don’t have a say in this, John. I’m going.”

  Bela launched herself at Duncan, smacking his chest with her fists. “Give John his say! If you ask the Mothers to poke around in your head, they will, and they damn well might kill you!”

  Duncan caught her pummeling hands and held them with just enough strength to keep her from hitting him again. “I have to do this.”

  Bela tried to jerk free. “Why, damnit?” She moved into him hard, using leverage from his grip on her hands to shove them both backward, away from the door.

  Duncan shifted his grasp to her shoulders and held them both upright. His fingers dug into her as he turned her around, putting himself closer to the door. “Did you see the pictures of what the Rakshasa did to Katrina Drake? And Patterson—what do you think he looked like? John could take me over. He could use me to lead the demons straight to you!”

  Bela gasped from pain—her arms, her heart, her throat. She turned raw in his grip, and everything hurt.

  Duncan’s face went soft and he turned her loose. “I’m—I’m sorry.” He stared at his hands for a second, then shut his
eyes. The wounds along his neck, shoulder, and chest glowed like they were filling with blood, and the sight of that nearly scared her to death.

  “What’s happening?” She reached for him, but he backed away from her, toward the door.

  “Oh, no, you are not leaving like this.” Bela lunged toward Duncan and snatched hold of him again. She kissed him, fierce, possessive. Desperate.

  He kissed her back, but she could still feel him leaving her.

  No!

  She moved her lips to his ear, wishing he’d hug her tighter. “You’d never betray us to the Rakshasa, even if John turns out to be a murdering bastard after all. My whole quad likes you—hell, they like you better than they like me, and they trust you.” She kissed his ear. “I trust you, Duncan.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t. I don’t trust John, and the bastard’s living in my head.” He moved her away from him again, gently this time, and what she saw on his face cut her heart in two. His force of will. His determination. The part of Duncan Sharp that wouldn’t stop, no matter what. He was going to do this, and nothing she could say would change his mind.

  Bela wrapped her arms around herself, trying not to scream.

  “Please do this for me, Angel.” His fingers caressed the tips of her elbows, and the pleading in his eyes made the scream rise higher in Bela’s chest. “If the Mothers can dig around enough to show I didn’t kill Patterson—and convince me that John’s not some time bomb that’ll get you and your quad killed—I’ll be right back.”

  “I don’t want to be away from you,” she whispered, the screams breaking into tears she had to cry. “I’m not ready to lose you.”

  Duncan lifted his hands to her cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe the tears away. He didn’t tell her she wouldn’t lose him, because he couldn’t. She knew that. Duncan was no liar, and he didn’t hand out false comfort. The pain in his eyes said he’d never leave her forever, not on purpose. But as the silence between them expanded, as Bela felt her own tears on her face, reality nudged harder at her than she’d allowed since she first fought to save his life.