“I wish I could have met her.” Axel put his arms around Darcy, pulling her back to his chest. The cemetery was empty, but the moon spilled her light over the rolling grasses and stately headstones. “I want to thank her for loving you and keeping you until I found you.”
“She knows.” It wasn't her third eye or knowledge chakra telling her that, but faith. Her mother's soul had moved on, but her love stayed with Darcy. She turned in Axel's arms and looked up at him.
He touched her face with love and possessiveness. “It's time to go home, Darcy. You spent all last night and today taking care of Morgan and Joe with Carla. It's time to go home.”
It had been a long night and day. Joe had been badly hurt and had fought them on trying to heal him, insisting they put all their energy into saving Morgan's child. Finally, when they'd gotten Morgan's bleeding to stop, he allowed them to heal the most serious of his injuries.
No one knew if the child would survive to full-term.
When Darcy left, Joe had been asleep on the bed with Morgan, cradling her, his freshly healed hand resting on her stomach.
So much pain. But they were fighting to overcome the curse and make things right. It wouldn't happen with one person, or in one day. But each choice mattered.
Each choice counted.
Darcy leaned her cheek into Axel's chest, felt the beat of his heart. “I've never felt at home or like I belonged, until now. With you, I am home.”
He buried his hand in her hair, tilting her head back. “You're a hell of a woman, Darcy. I love you, witch.” He kissed her.
She closed her eyes, sinking into the feel of his mouth.
Axel lifted her in his arms and broke the kiss. “Put your legs around me and hold on.”
“Why?”
He smiled down at her. “We're going to fly.” His wings burst from his back as he took a couple of steps and leapt into the air.
Darcy twined her arms around his neck and felt the air dance around them as his wings propelled them through the night. “Wow, you really know how to sweep a witch off her feet.”
He kept his gaze on the horizon, but he smiled and tightened his arms around her. “You are my mate, Darcy. We'll always fly together.”
Read on for a sneak peek at
SOUL MAGIC
by
JENNIFER LYON Coming soon from Ballantine Books
DAY ONE
Sex wasn't working for him anymore.
Sutton West stood next to a black acrylic bar etched in fiery red lights. The nightclub, Axel of Evil, had a whole hellish theme going on. The music pounded, the colored strobe lights bounced and the smell of sweat and alcohol coated the room.
It was last call.
A few mortal women lingered on the dance floor, and some witch hunters lounged by the two fire pits watching them with pointed interest.
Sutton returned his attention to the dancers, looking for one to take to bed to ease the pain of his cravings. He spotted a woman with long, shimmering black hair, chocolate eyes, and long legs. His interest barely twitched.
He shifted his gaze to the two blondes, one in a yellow dress, the other in tight jeans and a black top. Both were hot, but when another male walked up and started dancing with them, he moved on without a stitch of regret.
One redhead stood out. She was taller, curvier, and she danced with her whole body. She practically burned up the dance floor. He watched her the longest since she was normally his type—a woman who threw herself into life with untamed enthusiasm.
But he knew he couldn't match her zeal. Sutton had an absolute rule about women: they were helping him beat back the curse, and he would treat them with the respect they deserved. The redhead deserved more than he had to give tonight, and his gaze wandered around the club. This lack of interest in sex worried him. Sex was how the hunters controlled their compulsion for witch blood. If they gave into the compulsion and killed a witch, they lost their souls and went rogue—living only for the next “fix” of witch blood. For Sutton, losing interest in sex meant the curse was getting a foothold in him. He'd touched the blood of a witch and now he was on the edge of losing control. He tightened his jaw in determination. Never. He'd never give in to the curse. His father had set the standard and Sutton would live up to it.
Which meant he'd die before he let the curse win and take his soul.
Pushing his dark thoughts aside, he focused on the three men returning from hunting rogues. Key and Phoenix went to report to Axel, while Linc headed toward him.
Linc was one of their two candidates set to be inducted into the Wing Slayer Hunters. They both had the outline of their wings tattooed on their bodies: Linc Dilligner had chosen a falcon and Brigg Cusack had chosen a crow.
Now they all waited. Each of the two men had to face a test that would prove him loyal to the Wing Slayer. The test was an unknown, but Axel Locke, their leader, would recognize it when it happened.
Linc came to a stop next to Sutton with barely a whisper from the perfectly cut slacks and coat over an open-collared shirt. His professionally cut, mixed brown hair was expertly tousled. His gold eyes were dark and troubled under the pulsing strobe lights. “You heard anything from Brigg?”
Sutton shook his head. Brigg had left the club two nights ago and evidently no one had seen him since.
“I looked for him tonight. I couldn't find anything, not a goddamned trace of him. It's not like him to just vanish like this.”
The tension of waiting for their mysterious test was taking a toll on both men. “Maybe he found a party and hasn't come up for air.” They all had their times when the curse drove them to extremes. Sutton took himself off to the most isolated spots he could access. He climbed, hiked, ran, and swam trying like hell to sweat out the curse. Then he'd return to civilization and find a willing woman. As many as it took.
“He should have checked in,” Linc said.
Sutton silently agreed. It was giving him a bad feeling, too. “Could be getting cold feet about becoming a Wing Slayer Hunter. It'll make him a target for the rogues.”
Linc shook his head. “No. Brigg is hardcore about passing the test and getting fully winged at the Ceremony of Induction. We both are.”
“Might be that Brigg is facing his test now,” he pointed out. “There are some things a man has to do alone.” Sutton knew that Linc was really worried about Brigg, but under that was the resentment that Brigg might be facing his test and would be ready to take his wings first.
Linc let the silence stretch out, then he shrugged, looked around, and said, “Any claims on that redhead?” He tilted his head toward the woman Sutton had noticed earlier.
“Nope. She's yours if she'll have you.”
He looked at Sutton with a gleam in his gold eyes. “Thousand bucks says she does.”
“Sucker bet and I'm not a sucker.” The man was throwing off pheromones so heavy that women across the club were glancing his way.
Linc chuckled and strode off to the dance floor.
Sutton turned back to the job at hand, closing down the club for the night. He glanced at Key, Ram, Axel, and Phoe nix. They were spread out around the club, checking things out, closing down the bar, saying good night to patrons, and making damned sure a rogue hadn't gotten in. The rogues had been quiet for the last couple of months. Witches still disappeared but they weren't challenging the Wing Slayer Hunters openly. They were scurrying in the shadows.
He knew from his constant efforts to hack into their new databases that they were rebuilding the Rogue Cadre. They had created new and better firewalls, clearly showing a sophistication that did not bode well. They were also trying to recruit witch hunters to go rogue and fill their ranks. Quinn Young, the rogue leader, had to find a way to kill all the witches. He had a very demanding master—a demon—who wanted all the witches dead. Young and his rogues were out there, strategizing and planning.
Sutton got the all clear signal from the others. He dropped his crossed arms and raised one hand.
; The music cut off, the colored strobes died, and the house lights went on.
Witch hunters and the women started making their way out.
One woman hung back, a mortal with wavy brown hair and bright brown eyes, wearing an emerald green dress that swirled around her thighs. She was rooting around in her purse with a frown. He walked over to her. “Lose something?”
She lifted her face, and he saw the sheen of sweat from dancing. Flashing him a smile, she said, “I don't think I should drive home.”
He nodded. “We have several cabs out front.”
She moved up closer to him. “Or you could drive me home.”
She smelled of peppermint blended with her natural scent. Maybe he should take her up on it. Take her home, give them both a little pleasure and leave.
Too much effort.
He'd rather go to the warehouse to work on cracking the firewalls into the Rogue Cadre databases. “Maybe another night. But I'll help you to a cab.”
She shook her head, looking embarrassed. “No, thanks. I'm fine. I just got a little overheated from dancing.” She started walking away, putting her hand back into her purse, probably looking for her car keys.
He regretted embarrassing her and turned away to make a last circuit of the club.
He heard a click.
By the time he turned, the woman had already fired.
Everything happened at once. Ram pulled his knife out. Sutton bellowed “No!” at the hunter, while turning to protect his heart just as the bullet tore into his right shoulder.
Key wrenched the gun from the woman's hand and Axel appeared at his side. His green eyes furious, his face tight. “Sit down, let me look.”
Sutton snorted. “You've seen a bullet wound before.” He walked by Axel to where the woman stood, her eyes wide, sweat coating her face, and her hands trembling. “I shot you. My God, I shot you!”
“Why?” Sutton asked. The pain in his shoulder was burrowing into the nerves and firing his compulsion for witch blood. But this woman wasn't a witch, she was a mortal. A harmless little thing, she barely reached his shoulder. Why the hell had she shot him?
“I don't know! I don't remember! I … I don't even have a gun!”
Sutton watched as Axel faced the woman and looked into her eyes. Witch hunters had the ability to travel the optic nerve mentally and shift memories. Axel was seeing what he could get by touching her memories.
He turned to meet Sutton's gaze, his face grim. “Rogues.”
The scream jerked her from a light doze.
Dr. Carla Fisk jumped up off the couch, her head spinning at the sudden movement. Her small office was dim, lit only by her desk lamp.
Another scream.
She kicked aside the shoes she'd taken off before lying down and raced out the door, lifting her long skirt out of the way as she took the stairs two at a time. On the second floor, she could hear broken sobbing.
Then Max Bayer's soothing tones. “Josie, honey, wake up. You're safe.”
Carla slowed her steps, composing herself. She loved to listen to Max gentle their residents. The transitional clinic was Max's baby. His specialty, though, was tracking and extracting people who had been indoctrinated into cults. Whether they were lured, seduced, or forced, if he could find them, he got them out.
Carla had worked closely with Max to design the program to reverse the brainwashing. She admired him, respected him, liked him….
But she didn't feel anything romantic toward him, only admiration for his work and friendship.
As her heart calmed down, she turned and walked into the room.
In the light from the nightstand lamp, she saw that Josie was sitting up in the bed closest to the door. She had her knees drawn up tightly to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her face was tight and splotchy from crying.
Max was on his knees, his back to Carla. He wore a pair of gray sweat pants and nothing else. His back was lean, his arms wiry and strong. “Josie, you're hyperventilating. Try breathing with me, like Carla taught you.”
Josie kept her eyes fixed on the wall across the room. “They'll find me.”
She saw the muscles ripple across Max's back. She could feel his need to pull Josie into his arms and swear to her that he would never let that happen.
But Max resisted the impulse. Josie had only been out of the cult two days. Men frightened her. In the place she'd been, men had total, brutal, and humiliating control over the women. She couldn't even look at Max.
It always killed Max that these young women were afraid of him. Eventually, they came to trust him. And then he let them go.
Carla put her hand on Max's shoulder.
He looked up at her, his dark eyes full of impotent fury. Max had once had a scientific curiosity about cults, and had worked closely with a young research assistant trying to infiltrate a cult. Then the research assistant had gotten in too deep and the cult killed her. The curious sociologist in Max died, and this man, full of passion, grief, anger, and guilt was born.
She squeezed his shoulder. “How about getting Josie some water?”
He rose. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”
His bare feet made little sound on the wood floors.
“Is he mad at me?”
Carla sat down on the side of Josie's bed. It was a child's question. “No. Max isn't going to get mad at you for being scared or having nightmares.” She reached out, putting her hand over Josie's cold fingers. Opening her first four chakras with a swift popping sensation that started at her pelvis and rose to her solar plexus, Carla sent calming energy to the frightened girl.
Her eyes widened. “How do you do that?”
“In our hypnosis sessions, I've been giving you calming suggestions. When I touch you, your brain remembers the suggestions.” And, of course, she was a witch. But Josie didn't need to know that. Few mortals did. What Josie needed was healing, and Carla could do that with her powers of hypnosis.
The girl's breathing settled down to an even, healthy rhythm. “Do you think they can find me here?”
“No. You were in Arizona, out in the desert. This is Los Angeles, they wouldn't even know where to look. But more important, do you think Max or any of his men wandering around here would let them take you?” Max's team doubled as protection for the clinic when they weren't out on a mission to extract someone from a cult.
“Yesterday, that big guy, umm, Rich?”
Carla nodded.
“He watched me walk in and out the front door. Never said a word, but he smiled.”
Testing to see if they'd stop her from walking out. To see if she was a prisoner. “Did you think he'd stop you?”
She shrugged, then picked at the blanket. “I'm free now and safe, but I can't seem to understand that.”
Carla had to control her anger at the bastards who had done this to a nineteen-year-old girl. “Honey, they brainwashed you. They tried to destroy your individual self. But you are an amazing, strong, and smart young woman and they failed. Your brain is fighting back and nightmares are a part of that.”
She took a deep breath. “Really?”
“Really. Ready to go back to sleep?”
“I don't know if I can.”
Carla glanced at the bedside clock. It was just after two a.m. Then she said softly, “I can help you sleep.”
Josie nodded.
Carla concentrated to funnel the elemental power of the earth up through her four opened chakras. That was the easy part.
The hard part was trying to open the top three chakras. Actually it was nearly impossible since the curse had destroyed the witches’ bonds with their familiars. Carla could open her fifth chakra, which was her communication with other realms, but she couldn't open her sixth chakra, which was her third eye, or her seventh, which was knowledge.
She needed her fifth chakra to guide Josie's spirit to the astral plane. She concentrated and pictured the blue chakra at her throat, then she began funneling her powers up faster and faster, concentratin
g on that one spot.
The vibrations grew stronger, and she felt a choking sensation. She pushed harder, her body trembling as she struggled to control her magic. Then the sudden relief as the chakra flew open. Her body dropped away and she floated on a plane of blue.
The astral plane.
“Doctor?”
“I'm right here,” Carla said, and her doppelganger body took shape. The astral plane was spiritual and their actual bodies were down on the physical plane, but for reasons known only to the universe, a mirror image body usually appeared with the subconscious. Perhaps because it was the only way the human mind could grasp the reality of this level of existence. But, in Carla's experience, what happened to the bodies were separate. For instance, if Josie's body on the physical plane were to be hurt, her body on the spiritual plane wouldn't know it. At least not until her subconscious returned to the body to experience it.
Josie appeared standing next to her. “I love this place.” As soon as Josie said it, a large green pasture opened up before them, dotted with grazing horses. They'd practiced creating these places that Josie loved. “Can I ride the horses?”
“Of course. Your body on the physical plane is asleep already. This is your dream. You're safe here, you control what happens.”
“I'm asleep?”
“Yes.”
“How do you do that?”
“Magic,” she laughed. “Now go ride your horses.”
While the girl moved off toward the horses, Carla kept a tight hold on her spirit, and began guiding all but the dreaming fraction of her spirit back to Josie's sleeping body.
Dreams were actually a part of the spirit leaving the body and exploring other realms. The small portion of Josie's spirit on the astral plane would return without a hitch once the girl woke up.
Returning to the physical plane, Carla settled back into her own body, feeling heavy and tired. It took a tremendous amount of energy to control the magic of her fifth chakra.
Josie was asleep where she sat, her face relaxed. Carla laid Josie down and covered her. She glanced at the light, and it went out.
BLOOD MAGIC Page 33