The Phoenix Charm

by Helen Scott Taylor

  “You two hang back a couple of steps,” Michael instructed with a nod toward her and Thorn. “If anything happens to me beautiful face, sugarplum, I’m counting on your brains to put matters right.” He grinned at her, and her tension seeped away. Suddenly all she wanted to do was sit on the step, gaze out the window, and enjoy the glorious view.

  Michael and Nightshade disappeared up the steps and around the corner. Gradually, the haze in her mind drifted away. With a jolt of annoyance, she realized she’d been fed a dose of silver tongue. No wonder Michael hadn’t argued about her coming along.

  She stood, shrugging away her lassitude and pulled on Thorn’s arm. “Come on. Michael’s gone,” she snapped.

  Thorn blinked and looked around. “Weren’t we supposed to wait here?”

  “That is not what I agreed to.” Her sense of foreboding blossomed like frost on glass. Her head pounded as she ran up the stairs, cursing Michael. The temperature plummeted and she halted.

  “What?” Thorn whispered.

  “Magic.” She pressed her cheek to the outer wall, trying to peer up the spiral stairs.

  “Let Tamsy go first. She’ll know if there’s danger.”

  “Gods and goddesses.” Cordelia pressed her aching temples. She should have thought of that. She eased Tamsy out from her bag and set her gently on her feet. “Go find Michael,” she whispered mentally, sending the feel of his psychic signature. Tamsy mewed and trotted up the steps. Cordelia sat on the worn stone and melded her consciousness with Tamsy, looked through her eyes.

  The magical chill shivered along the connection, penetrated Cordelia’s bones, made her teeth ache. Strong magic guarded the stairway, which didn’t bode well.

  Tamsy drew level with the underside of a boot and the leg of a felled man. Cordelia’s heart jumped, fearing for Michael before she realized she could still feel his presence beating strongly in her chest.

  Her cat trotted past the prone figure of Nightshade and rubbed around Michael’s legs as he dragged the stalker up the stairs. What had happened? Cordelia drummed her fingers on her thigh in frustration.

  She withdrew from the link with Tamsy and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Michael?” she bellowed at the top of her voice, hoping her call carried up the stairs.

  “Aye,” he shouted back.

  “What’s happened to Nightshade?”

  There was a moment’s silence. “He passed out.”

  Cordelia pressed her fingers over her eyes to think. What sort of magical trap had Michael and Nightshade walked into? Why had the charm affected Nightshade but not Michael?

  “Um, Dee,” Thorn said.

  She snapped open her eyes, and he pointed out the window. “They’ve heard us.”

  “Oh, rats’ tails.” Cordelia peered outside to see a growing cluster of Tylwyth Teg men gathered in the courtyard, gesturing angrily up at the window.

  She pulled her head back inside at the thunder of boots on the steps below.

  Cordelia clutched her empty bag to her chest. She glanced up and down the stairs, gnawing her lip. She’d rather brave the magic than a group of angry Teg. “Michael, we’re coming up.”

  Thorn blinked a startled gaze at her when she grabbed his hand. They mounted the winding stairs until the chill of magic seeped into her bones.

  Thorn’s footsteps faltered. His eyelids fluttered.

  “Thorn!” She jerked on his hand, snaring his attention. “Stay with me.”

  The strength drained from her legs as she pushed up the next two steps, her muscles stiff and icy cold. When she paused to gather her energy, Thorn sagged against the wall. “Wake up!” She slapped his cheeks. When that didn’t rouse him, she pulled his arm over her shoulders. She managed another two steps before stumbling to her knees beneath his weight.

  The sound of booted feet ahead dragged up her weary gaze. Michael’s strong denim-clad legs appeared before her. He heaved Thorn’s body off her and pulled the younger man to his feet. “How you coping, sugarplum?”

  Her head weighed so much she barely managed a nod.

  “Another ten steps, lass, and you’re there. Follow me.”

  Michael half carried, half dragged Thorn the next few steps. The sight of his strong body, unaffected by the magic, reassured her and gave her strength. She focused her energy into her thighs, pushed herself up a step by sheer force of will. “Good, lass. I knew you were strong.” The sweet stroke of his praise infused her with purpose. The next few steps were easier.

  “Nearly there.” Michael grinned back at her, causing a warm fuzzy feeling near her heart. Then he ran on ahead with Thorn.

  When her foot landed on the next step, the stone dipped beneath her weight. She grabbed the wall for balance and blinked incredulously at her feet. The granite sank like wet sand, swallowing her boots. She tried to wrest her feet free but the harder she pulled, the deeper she sank.

  Darkness impinged on her vision, spinning circles of shadow around her gaze so that only pinpricks of light remained. She opened her mouth to call Michael, but no sound came out. With a creeping sense of dread, she realized this wasn’t an illusion designed to frighten, but a powerful magical trap.

  Her fingers clutched at her empty cat bag. How would she survive without Tamsy’s reassuring presence? She lost her balance, slapped down her palms to steady herself. The stone oozed over her hands, up her forearms, sucked her in with frightening speed.

  Tamsy? She extended her senses. But as the slick substance engulfed her, all she heard was a deafening hum of nothingness.

  Michael? The thought trickled out with no force behind it. They weren’t bonded in any way, so he wouldn’t hear her. By the time he noticed she was gone, he would be too late to rescue her.

  Michael hitched Thorn’s limp body higher and pulled him up another step. Who would have thought the lad was so damn heavy? Two more steps and the chill in Michael’s bones eased. Another step and a warm breeze fluttered his hair as he drew level with a window. He snatched in a breath and let the air hiss out between his clenched teeth as he reached the landing at the top of the tower. Strength flowed back into his muscles. Thorn groaned and opened his eyes.

  “What’s up?” he mumbled.

  “A charm set on the steps, lad. Nasty one, as well.”

  He eased Thorn down, back against the wall beside Nightshade, who was blinking and rubbing his eyes.

  “My body felt heavy; then everything went black,” Thorn said around a yawn.

  “I don’t remember what happened.” Night shade wriggled forward to stretch his wings from their cramped position.

  Michael frowned. He’d been weakened but never thought he’d lose consciousness. Why had the charm affected them differently?

  Stretching the muscles in his back, he turned to give Cordelia a hand up the last few steps.

  The stairs were empty.

  Tamsy mewed, a tentative, confused call. Michael stared, blinked; his heart missed a beat, then raced in his suddenly hollow chest.

  The cat yowled, a piercing, anguished cry, shooting distress through Michael.

  “Cordelia!”

  With Tamsy scampering beside his feet, he ran down the steps to the point where he’d last seen Cordelia. He stared around the corner. Had she fallen? Surely, he’d have heard her shout? Lethargy stole up his legs. His lungs tightened, each breath a struggle to draw enough air.

  Tamsy sniffed and scratched at the rocky steps. Trusting the cat’s instinct, Michael kneeled beside her, looking for a break that would indicate a hidden trap, but the rock was solid. Chills raced across his skin, and a barely contained panic sawed at his mind.

  Tamsy nibbled and clawed at the stone.

  He pushed the frantic creature away, ran his palms over the step. The sensitive pad of his finger found a soft bump.

  Fear swelled and nearly swallowed him as he recognized a corner of the cat bag. He plucked at the tip of fabric with big clumsy fingertips.

  “Dee!” Thorn shouted and descended a step.
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  “Keep away.” Michael gasped with the effort of speaking. He cast Thorn a fierce look, loaded with warning. The young man backed up, eyes wide, until his back hit the wall.

  “What’s the matter, Michael?” Out of the side of his eye, Michael saw Nightshade scramble to his feet. He ignored the stalker and concentrated on catching hold of the tiny tab of fabric.

  Little by little, he teased and twisted the corner of the cat bag out of the stone. Hope pulsed, yet this could mean nothing. She might have dropped the bag. The noisy footsteps ascending the stairs below came to a halt. Whoever pursued them knew better than to chance passing through the magical booby trap.

  When he had the whole bag exposed, his heart stalled as the end of the looped strap was about to be released.

  “Hurry,” Thorn shouted, his voice an anguished cry.

  With a careful pull, Michael revealed the end of the loop—and a hand, gripping so tightly the knuckles were white.

  Tears sprang into Michael’s eyes at the sight of Cordelia’s death grip. He’d thought she was mentally stronger than the others, that she’d overcome the worst effects of the charm. He shouldn’t have left her to make her own way.

  Thorn wailed and half tripped, half jumped down the steps to his side. “Get back.” Michael clutched a handful of the young man’s shirt and shoved him away before he bumped Cordelia’s hand and hurt her.

  Nightshade grabbed Thorn under his arms and dragged him back to the landing.

  “Don’t make Michael have to rescue you too, boy,” Nightshade growled.

  Gently, Michael pulled on the strap. He watched in an agony of impatience as the rock softened, allowing Cordelia’s slender hand and delicate wrist to slide free. The silver ring on her finger had cut her skin. Blood seeped from the wound, trickled down her arm.

  Breathing through his mouth to fight his emotion, he stroked her fingers so she felt him, knew she wasn’t alone. Tamsy nuzzled her hand and Cordelia’s fingers twitched. Michael maintained a steady tension on the strap. He worried that if he raised her too fast, the friction of the rock might scrape her skin. Tamsy paced restlessly, rubbing against his knees, mewing nervously, and fluttering her small pink tongue on Cordelia’s arm.

  Thorn and Nightshade stood silently on the landing, watching.

  Muffled voices and movement sounded from below. Michael hoped the Teg who’d laid the trap came up the stairs. Michael wanted to grind him into the steps.

  His breath jammed as her shoulder appeared, then the bare skin of her neck, her ear. The rock peeled back smoothly, leaving no mark on her clothes or skin. When her face emerged, Thorn’s frantic gasps reached a crescendo.

  Her eyes were closed, her head lolled to the side. Thorn sobbed.

  “She’s alive,” Michael snapped. “Use your senses, lad.”

  Tamsy licked Cordelia’s face, mewing incessantly. Michael lifted the cat’s tense furry body aside. She must have understood the need to keep clear, because she stayed out of the way, but her eyes never left Cordelia’s face.

  Carefully, Michael pulled Cordelia from the rock. He collapsed to his knees, hugging her limp body against him. The magic trap had leeched away much of his energy; he struggled to find the strength to stand. Nightshade ran down the steps and grabbed him beneath the arms. “Hold her tight.” He pulled Michael upright and helped support Cordelia as they stumbled back up to the landing.

  Michael flopped against the wall and slid down. Cordelia’s body settled on his lap. He hugged her close, cupped her face to his chest. The gentle ripple of her psychic presence trickled around the edges of his mind.

  Thorn squatted beside him, gripped Cordelia’s hand, and pressed it to his cheek. “I’m sorry, Dee.”

  “’Twas not your fault, lad. ’Twas mine.” He had nearly lost her just walking up the steps. What on earth would they face when they went before Gwyn ap Nudd?

  Cordelia drifted. A warm trickle of pleasure leaked into her depths, loosening the ties that held her beneath the impenetrable dark waters. The beat in her chest grew stronger; her mind pulsed with images of a man’s smile—Michael. With a surge of understanding, she struggled free, reached up through the murky layers to find light.

  Tamsy’s presence hummed warm and fuzzy inside her, encouraging her to come back. Cordelia concentrated on her breath, in, out, the cascade of her water elemental nature cleansing her fear.

  Breath caught as she recognized the feel of her limbs. Muscles ached from the battle she’d fought with the sucking stone. She flexed her fingers, found warm flesh beneath her touch. She sighed, snuggled, clutched, seeking something to hang on to so she wouldn’t lose herself again.

  “Dee?” Thorn’s anxious tone made her heart contract. She longed to comfort him, but she wasn’t ready yet.

  She turned into Michael’s warm embrace, inhaled the fragrance of his shirt and skin, mountain air, herbs, the tang of male, the elemental smell of earth, solid and steady.

  “Cordelia, sugarplum.”

  Warm breath tickled her hair. The pliant silk of lips touched her temple.

  The water inside her soul stirred to life.

  Her fingers tightened. Corded muscle flexed within her grip.

  “She’s awake. She just won’t open her eyes.” The gruff accusation in Nightshade’s voice sent her growing consciousness scurrying away to hide.

  “Shh.” A warm hand covered her ear. Muffled voices floated around her but she ignored them, enjoyed the soothing beat of Michael’s heart against her ear.

  A furry body squeezed into the space between her tummy and her thighs. Tamsy’s purr vibrated through her solar plexus, winding her up like a clockwork toy coming to life.

  With a deep breath, she let her eyelids flutter up. Two large gray eyes stared back at her unblinkingly. You found me.

  Ripples of love and reassurance flowed along the link from Tamsy.

  She focused on her body: feet, legs, tummy—squashed beneath cat. Hands, one sore, arms, shoulders, neck. Bottom?

  She concentrated on her rear, on the firm thighs beneath her. Michael’s thighs. And other parts of him. The lapping swell of her allure surged like a freak wave on a calm sea. For a moment, she feared her restrictive wards had been scraped from her skin. But the sensual energy circled inside her, unable to escape.

  Michael. His name drifted around her brain, didn’t make it to her lips. She tried again. “Michael.”

  “Aye, sugarplum. You’re safe.”

  Michael’s lips brushed her forehead. She wanted so much to raise her mouth to his that she pressed her face harder into his chest.

  “Are we going through the damn door today or not?” The gravelly sound of Nightshade’s voice grated over raw nerves.

  Cordelia opened her eyes, turned her head, met the simmering silver slits of his critical gaze. There had never been any love lost between them, but now he seemed to hate her as much as she hated him.

  “Give her a moment or two to recover.” Michael’s voice rumbled through his chest beneath her ear.

  Nightshade flashed his fangs, but the expected jab of fear failed to strike.

  “Dee.” Thorn kneeled in front of her, blocking her view of Nightshade. He gripped her uninjured hand.

  “I’m all right, sweetheart.”

  Reluctantly, she eased herself from Michael’s embrace and wrapped her arms around Thorn. “I’m glad you made it up those steps safely. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

  When Nightshade moved to stretch his wings, she caught sight of the small wooden door in the wall behind him and she remembered why they were there. She pushed to her feet, and turned to Michael. His blue eyes caressed her with gentle concern.

  “Thank you.” She hadn’t intended to whisper, but the words caught huskily in her throat. He raised a hand to touch her hair. The intimacy should have been uncomfortable, yet she felt as though she’d been waiting for him all her life.

  His fingers brushed her ear, drawing a small needy hum from her thro
at. His eyes locked on hers, held her captive in their blue depths. “There’s something between us, sugarplum. Something I want to investigate when we get home.” A vision flashed through her mind, sweaty bodies, tangled sheets, groans of pleasure. She blinked and her knees wobbled. Michael’s hand steadied her elbow while a smile tucked itself into the corners of his mouth.

  Michael was everything she desired. That made him the most dangerous person in the world.

  Chapter Seven

  Michael reluctantly let his hand drop from Cordelia’s elbow as she stepped away. The front of his body tingled where she’d been snuggled against him—and a certain part of him did more than tingle.

  He pushed out a breath, expelling the lingering sense of her from his mind. When they arrived home, he must settle things with Nightshade before he became involved with Cordelia.

  Nightshade stamped his feet and snapped his wings against his back, indicating he was annoyed. Best to distract him before he upset Cordelia again. “Hey, boyo.” Michael slapped the nightstalker’s shoulder. “You going to knock for us?”

  Michael eyed the small wooden door set in the wall. In a few moments, they’d finally confront Gwyn ap Nudd and have a chance to negotiate Fin’s release. His heart skipped a beat as Nightshade raised his fist to knock. When his hand met the door, it disappeared soundlessly through the wood.

  Nightshade gave an unmanly yelp and yanked his hand back. “Shit!”

  Michael suppressed a laugh. Thorn wasn’t as diplomatic. He hooted and grinned at Cordelia, whose lips remained tight, even though her eyes sparkled with mirth.

  Nightshade glared at them and ruffled his wings.

  “’Tis an illusion, boyo,” Michael said.

  Cocking his head, the stalker gave him a narrow-eyed look. “You don’t say, bard. I’d never have guessed.”

  Still grinning inside, Michael scanned the walls with his peripheral vision and spotted the real door, taller and wider than the illusion. Nightshade noticed it at the same time and knocked hard enough to rattle the hinges.

  After the boom of the knock faded, silence fell. A strained tension hummed between them while they waited. The snap of a bolt from inside set Michael’s pulse tripping as the door swung inward.