The Phoenix Charm

by Helen Scott Taylor

  Tamsy’s distressed yowl cut through the quiet room.

  “Cordelia?” His grip on her tightened to hold her up. “What’s the matter”?

  “You’re…hurting…me.” She gasped between each word, barely able to fill her lungs to speak.

  “I’m not doing anything.”

  Suddenly the pressure inside her withdrew. She sucked in air, her skin prickling from the rush of energy. Tamsy’s gentling influence shimmered on the edge of her awareness.

  “Sorry, sugarplum.” He stroked her face, kissed her hair. “I just let me self go.”

  She clung to him while the strength returned to her legs. She’d feared he’d be overwhelmed by her allure, but the swirling sensual energy inside her faded into insignificance compared with Michael’s power. Troy’s words about Michael came back to her.

  He’s a strong earth elemental. Strong enough to ground your allure. You’d thrive together.

  “Let me feel you, “Michael whispered against her ear. She relaxed, and although most of her energy remained trapped within her wards, she sent a subtle brush of awareness into his mind.

  He groaned deep in his chest. His fingers flexed against her back. “Sweet Anu.” His breath puffed hot among the strands of her hair. “You’re a water nymph.”

  She buried her face against his chest, trying to judge his attitude from his tone of voice.

  “Sweet bejesus, Cordelia.” His chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. His hand trailed up her spine, traveled down again to splay on the small of her back.

  Her tension slowly leaked away when he seemed to accept her nature.

  “Let me into your thoughts.”

  She raised her head and blinked. “Can’t you read my thoughts?”

  “You’re shutting me out.”

  She must instinctively be protecting herself. The realization that she still had control over what he saw in her mind flooded her with relief. Maybe she could hide the fact that she’d watched him in the divination mirror.

  She touched his face, relieved to see pleasure sparkling in his eyes. “When you come back, I’ll show you my thoughts,” she whispered.

  He cupped her bottom in his hand and lifted her against the hardness of his erection. “When I come back, I want to see more than your thoughts, lass. When I come back, I want to make this joining between us physical.”

  A knock sounded. Before they had time to move apart, the door opened and Devin strode in. He nodded in greeting and grinned at Cordelia. “Michael made the right choice, I see.”

  “Is it time to go already?” Fear shot down Cordelia’s spine, chilled her core.

  “Don’t worry.” Devin’s grin softened to an encouraging smile. “You’ll get through this together.” He slapped Michael on the back. “We need your shirt off.”

  Michael pulled the T-shirt over his head and dropped it on a chair. Devin’s gaze flicked down to the front of Michael’s jeans and the corners of his mouth crooked up. “You have enough incentive to hurry back to life now, do you, ya rajol?”

  Michael grinned, and her heart wrenched to see him being so brave.

  “Cordelia.” Devin beckoned her closer and retrieved Troy’s dagger from the table where he’d left it earlier. “When you call Michael back from the dead, you’ll use the Phoenix Stone. The dagger was designed to both take life and restore it. Hold the stone in front of him. The diffracted colors will penetrate the nine energy centers of his body to heal him.”

  Michael rubbed his chest as though it was already sore. “I was wondering how I’d heal me body.”

  With trembling hands, she took the dagger from Devin and held it up so light streaked through the stone and sprayed colored rays on the djinn’s body.

  “You’ve got the idea. Just keep your head and all will be well.”

  Devin went and stood in front of Michael. “One final thing.” He held up his left hand and flexed his fingers. The pointed nails glittered darkly, then the nail on his middle finger extended to a vicious inch-long point.

  “Ruddy Badba.” Michael stepped back, bumping into a table.

  “Stand still, and don’t be a wimp, boy.”

  Cordelia hurried forward, wanting to protect Michael, although she had no idea how. “Please don’t hurt him, Master Devin.”

  “I’m only going to numb his chest.”

  “Oh.” Cordelia stood helplessly with a hand pressed to her mouth while the djinn pushed the long nail into Michael’s chest just over his heart. Michael hissed when the point pierced his skin.

  Within a few seconds, the wound disappeared.

  “How will that numb me chest?”

  “I’ve poisoned you.”

  “You’ve what?” Cordelia shouted, making both men jolt with surprise.

  The djinn gave Michael a wry grin. “You’ve got yourself one possessive woman looking out for you now, ya akhy.” He slapped Michael on the shoulder. “I only injected enough venom to dull the pain as the blade goes in.”

  “You have venom under your fingernails?” Cordelia stared at his hand, horrified. He might be beautiful, but with sharp poisonous fingernails, she couldn’t imagine women were lining up to go out with him.

  “Just one fingernail.” Devin flipped up his middle finger, and Michael chuckled.

  Michael tapped the area over his heart. “Me chest is less sensitive already.”

  “You can buy me a drink later,” Devin said. “Now it’s time to go to the council chamber.”

  The smile dropped from Devin’s face and he stared at Michael. “I know you’re scared, boy. But you’ll be fine. I promise.”

  He turned his back to give them a moment of privacy. Cordelia rushed to Michael, pressing her palm over his heart center, willing her strength into him as he wrapped his arms around her. She inhaled the herbal, earthy tang of his skin. His lips met hers, and she kissed him with all the passion locked inside her, the allure swelling and surging like a storm within her wards, threatening to break free.

  She framed his face in her hands and stared into his blue eyes, darkened now with fear. “I’ll call you back, Michael.”

  “Aye, lass.” He touched a finger to her lips. “I know you won’t let me down.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Michael gripped Cordelia’s hand and pulled her against his side. He concentrated on the calm, flowing sense of her, soothing as the gentle lap of water.

  As he followed Devin to the council chamber, he thought of Cordelia to keep his mind off his fate. The opposing images of the uptight wise woman in her long, high-necked dresses and the sensual water nymph still couldn’t connect in his brain. Why had she hidden her nature from the piskies?

  He’d be slapping himself on the back for getting hitched to a member of such a sensuous race if he wasn’t about to be stabbed to death.

  Sweet Anu. What was he doing? Atremor passed through his body into the earth and an answering surge of energy flowed up his legs from his element. He halted outside the council chamber and closed his eyes. His insides pinched and ached as though someone had pulled out his guts and stuffed them back in the wrong way. He couldn’t do this. He’d never made any bones about the fact he was a coward. Pain was not his thing.

  “Michael?” Cordelia’s gentle enquiry barely penetrated the terrified darkness gathering around his mind.

  Devin gripped Michael’s arm and something like an electric shock jolted from his touch, firing every nerve ending in Michael’s body and giving him strength. His eyes sprang open. “Stay with us, ya akhy. Be brave. Don’t think about what will happen. Concentrate on your bond with Cordelia.” For a flitting moment, raw emotion glittered in the djinn’s obsidian eyes. “I must leave you now. Allah Maack, God go with you.” Taking the Phoenix Dagger from Cordelia, he preceded them into the council chamber.

  Michael’s head bobbed in assent automatically. How could he ever be ready to die? Cordelia squeezed his hand hard. He gathered her into his arms, and kissed her deeply with all the passion he possessed in case it
was their last kiss. A sensual pull swirled around his mind, promising to drag him down to a place where desire would sweep all worries away. He loosened his hold on her with a groan of suppressed longing.

  Flushed and panting after the kiss, Cordelia trembled in his arms. “Michael, Ishouldn’t let my allure run out of control like that in case—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips.

  “I need this to remind me what I’m coming back for, sugarplum. We’ll work things out later.”

  He managed an ironic smile at the tightness of his groin. “Looks like I’ll be going to me death with a boner. Niall would say ’tis fitting, I’m sure.”

  Before he surrendered himself to desire and kissed her again, he released her from his arms.

  After looping Cordelia’s silver chain around his wrist, he pushed the translucent stone ring onto his little finger. Head high, he strode through the door into the council chamber with her hand gripped tightly in his.

  The windows were shuttered, leaving the room lit only by oil lamps hanging on curly metal brackets at intervals around the walls. The light flickered from all angles, casting multiple shadows.

  “Oh.” Cordelia’s exclamation brought his attention down from the gallery. The blue-tiled floor of the pit had disappeared to reveal a lower level beneath the chamber.

  The smell of wet dog reached his nose as he noticed the glowing red eyes in the darkness below.

  “This is what I saw in my divination mirror before the Teg arrived.” Cordelia’s voice cracked as she grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back.

  “Shh, lass. I can’t just walk away now.”

  “You don’t understand. The prediction didn’t feel right, Michael.” She gave a halfhearted tug, trying to drag him toward the do or again. “You mustn’t go down there.”

  “Let me look, lass.” He eased from her grasp and descended the steps to the level of the plaintiff’s pit. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he made out the shadowy forms of huge hounds below. Huntsmen walked among the animals, slapping at rumps with short leather-covered crops to keep them under control. Ashivers tole through Michael. He had always liked dogs. He had a nasty suspicion, though, that these weren’t ordinary animals, but hounds from the King of the Underworld’s wild hunt, creatures capable of stealing souls.

  He ascended the steps again. At the sight of Cordelia’s crumpled, tearstained face, strength he’d never known he possessed rose up inside him. He must be brave for her, as well as himself. He gently took her shoulders and made her look at him. “I’m going to die here, this day, lass. What more is there to go wrong?”

  Her eyes scanned his face urgently. “I don’t know.”

  He kissed her once more, tasting salt from her tears.

  “A kiss is the condemned man’s last wish,” Arian crowed as he entered the gallery door and strolled around the upper floor to the steps.

  Michael looked up and released Cordelia, furious with Arian for besmirching something precious.

  As the other council members filed in and took their seats, Nightshade hurried through the door. He walked up and gripped Michael’s hand. “Hurry back, bard.”

  Michael gave a cocky grin full of a bravado he didn’t feel. He angled his head closer to Nightshade. “Take Cordelia and Thorn home,” he whispered so she wouldn’t hear.

  Nightshade frowned and Michael repeated his instruction. “If I don’t make it back, you will do this for me, won’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  He slapped Nightshade on the shoulder. A little of his tension filtered away now he knew Cordelia and Thorn would be protected.

  Devin and Arian were talking a few yards away. Frowning, Arian held up Troy’s dagger to the light and examined the gem. “What manner of stone is this?”

  “I’m unfamiliar with the decoration, but the blade is suitable,” Devin replied, his voice laced with subtle persuasion that most wouldn’t notice.

  Arian weighed the dagger in his palm, tested the cutting edge with his thumb. Michael tensed, waiting for Arian to reject the knife on principle. Instead, he shrugged. “Very well. I’ll use the piskies’ weapon.” None of them spoke up to tell him the owner of the dagger was no pisky.

  “Michael O’Connor.” Mawgan’s voice filled the chamber, not a summons, but a plea. “I beg you to reconsider this drastic action. There is still time to rescind your request.”

  Arian shot a dark look at the robed seer. “I disagree. The bargain is wrought. He knew what he was asking for.”

  Temptation to back down flashed through Michael. He inhaled deeply twice before he found enough air to answer in a steady voice. “I wish to go ahead.”

  “So be it.” Mawgan sat and the other two seers took their seats beside him. Dai and Olwyn descended the steps, their translucent blue eyes fixed on Michael. His skin crawled as they came toward him.

  When the two Teg pulled him forward, he glanced back at Cordelia and Nightshade. “Take her up to the gallery out of the way,” he told Nightshade.

  “No.” She stood ashen faced, her fists clenched at her sides. Her cat bag slid from her shoulder and Nightshade caught the strap and looped it over her head. Then he ushered her away.

  Michael fought the tremor of his muscles as Olwyn and Dai led him down the steps. When they reached the bottom, the grizzled black hair of the hounds brushed against his legs. They sniffed him, but despite their red eyes and fearsome appearance, he sensed no aggression. The beasts were strangely silent, except for the snuffle of their breathing in the confined space.

  “Keep the bloody hounds back,” Arian growled at the huntsmen as he followed down the steps.

  Pairs of red glowing eyes watched Michael from the darkest corners of the dungeon while the gatekeepers led him to a wall. They wrenched his arms to the sides and manacled his wrists. He pressed his head back against the damp stone and closed his eyes. Sweat prickled on his skin. Finally, here, in the shadows, his courage failed.

  He panted, heart thundering as he floundered, grasping for the thread of Cordelia’s presence to anchor him. Faintly, he sensed her as though she were a long way away. He let his mind flow along the tendril of connection, the strange newness of the sensation unsettling and unsatisfying. He needed to put his hands on her body, not make do with this wispy tenuous mental link.

  Cordelia? He shouted her name in his head.

  The sense of her surged through him, permeating every cell, leaving a gentle calm in herwake. He focused all his attention on the single ring of her Magic Knot around his finger His breath steadied, his heart slowed.

  “Open your eyes, pisky,” Arian said. The gatekeeper stood so close that Michael could see the pale rings glowing around his pupils.

  “I’m not a pisky,” he ground out.

  Arian’s mouth tightened. “Oh, I know what you are,” he whispered. Then louder:“You give your life for the pisky king’s irresponsible leadership, for his dereliction of duty to protect those in his domain.”

  Michael blinked sweat from his eyes. The tone of Arian’s accusation fired bolts of warning along his nerves. This should be a simple exchange of his life for Finian’s. Not retribution for Niall’s perceived failings.

  Arian leaned in so close, his frigid breath chilled Michael’s skin. “You give your life to pay for the overarching superiority of your father and your brothers.” He whispered an incantation in ancient Celtic, “As immortal blood damned him, so immortal blood will set him free. I take this life in the name of freedom for Gwyn ap Nudd, King of the Undderworld.”

  “As the Ennead has voted, so shall it be,” Arian shouted.

  Wait! The word formed in Michael’s head. Then Arian struck his chest. Fiery pain exploded from Michael’s heart. His breath leaked away. His head fell forward. Through tear-filled eyes he saw the dagger protruding from his chest. Sparkling waves of color pulsed in the Phoenix Stone. His energy drifted away like a memory of youth, his body growing heavy, weary of life.

  Brothers, plural? The though
t hung in his mind for a moment, then dispersed like mist in the wind.

  Cordelia screwed her eyes closed, concentrating every shred of her mental energy on Michael. But however hard she tried to focus on him, he slipped from her like water through her fingers. She couldn’t hold the connection with him, maybe because he had only her body stone.

  She gritted her teeth, willing her mind to be stronger At the sound of Arian’s shout, her eyelids snapped up. Time stilled as Arian leaned closer to Michael. She thought they were talking, yet when the gatekeeper stepped back, the glittering hilt of the dagger protruded from Michael’s chest.

  With a cry, she clutched a wooden pillar. She focused on his psychic beat beside her heart until the pulse faded to nothing.

  Tears flooded her eyes. “Michael.” She thought she cried out his name, but the word slid breathless between her lips.

  He hung suspended by the short chains anchoring his wrists to the wall, chin on his chest, blood seeping around the embedded blade, running down his belly, staining the soft, pale denim of his jeans.

  The lamps blinked out one by one, and the chamber fell into darkness. Red eyes blazed. A single mournful wail rent the air. Then another hound took up the call, others joining until the pack was in full cry, sending a shard of pain through her head with each howl. She grasped her cat bag, hanging on to the panicked body of the struggling feline.

  The scene she’d viewed in her divination mirror had been Michael’s death. If only she’d known, she would never have let him come to Wales.

  When the hounds’ calls subsided, Nightshade’s breath brushed her ear. “I can see in the dark. Arian has gone, and Master Devin has pulled the dagger from Michael’s chest.”

  “Oh.” She pressed her face against the top of Tamsy’s head. Shock and pain warred with a sense of unreality. How could this be happening? A few days ago, she’d been safe and secure in Trevelion Manor while Michael sat on his stool and told stories in the great hall.