The Phoenix Charm

by Helen Scott Taylor

  She let him lead her to the bed and sit beside her. His lips curled in a gentle smile, his eyelids lowered as if he were afraid to give her the full force of his grin in case he frightened her. “If you didn’t want to do this, we wouldn’t be here.”

  The words circled in her head while she tried to fathom the meaning behind them.

  He caressed her throat and traced the thin strap of her dress to the top of her breast. The strap slid down her shoulder with a nudge from his finger. Then he repeated the move on the other side. The fabric sagged, exposing the tops of her breasts. She blinked, glanced up at Michael. He leaned in, pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, then used a finger to turn her chin so he could fit his mouth over hers.

  The movement of his lips set her floating on a warm swell of pleasure. Cool air touched her breasts as the dress fell to her waist. His hand brushed her nipple and she gasped in his mouth at the shock of sensation. He drew back his head far enough to look into her eyes. “You’re mine, Cordelia. I’ll keep you safe, wherever we are.”

  His hand closed over her breast, and his mouth became more demanding. She fell back on the satin sheets and kept tumbling through space while his fingers explored her, igniting sparks of pleasure.

  She couldn’t remember him removing her dress but suddenly they were both naked, writhing together. She reveled in the warm slide of his skin against hers.

  “Have you done this before, sugarplum?”

  Skin against her skin. Lips against her skin. Teeth against her skin.

  Dragon

  The name exploded into her mind like a sudden storm, spreading dark clouds over her vision. The warmth of Michael’s body faded. She clutched at him, afraid he’d left her; then his voice whispered, gentling her.

  His arms surrounded her, pulled her onto his lap. “Stay with me. Forget the past.”

  She snuggled into him. But imagining Michael naked in her arms was difficult with no memory to draw on. Threads of darkness crept across her vision and a yawning emptiness stretched around her.

  Cordelia, stay with me, love.

  The beautiful fantasy Michael had woven for them unraveled. She struggled to recapture the feel of him. Instead, the memory of Dragon’s dark gleaming body overwhelmed her mind. She started to quake.

  No, she whimpered, trying to dislodge the fearsome image of sharp, bone-white fangs, as Dragon lowered his naked body over her. Then her father’s furious face at the door, and the gurgling splutter of blood when Dragon turned on him and ripped out his throat. The vicious hunger in the night-stalker’s eyes when he savaged her neck, her shoulder, her body rigid with terror. Naively, she’d thought she wanted Dragon, even flirted with him. She’d paid dearly for disobeying her grandmother.

  She must put distance between herself and temptation before she did something terrible again. The last time she’d been with a man, her father died.

  Nightshade pressed against the wall of the council chamber, his injured arm clutched to his chest. Moments earlier, he’d been guarding Cordelia while she healed Michael, and then a burst of energy had shot out from the entrance to the Underworld. The wind had picked him up and smashed him against the wall. Around him, huntsmen threw themselves flat on the ground, while the hounds leaped onto the wind, riding the swirling tornado of energy.

  Finally the whirlwind had dropped, the hounds had found their feet and the huntsmen had risen to their knees. Gwyn ap Nudd had materialized, his robes flying around him. He’d scanned the chamber and his red gaze had settled on Michael and Cordelia.

  A moment before the storm of Gwyn’s arrival, Cordelia had been kneeling beside Michael and the bard’s eyes were open. Now she lay insensate across Michael’s chest, neither of them moving.

  “What’ve you done to them?” Nightshade bellowed, taking a step forward.

  Gwyn spared him a withering glance, then strode toward Cordelia and Michael, hounds and huntsmen scuttling out of his way. “The son of Troy has paid the price for his father’s deceit. He is banished to the tower with his bond mate.”

  Nightshade tried to absorb this new disaster. His head throbbed and his shoulder ached, yet somehow he must help Michael and Cordelia. If their bodies were here, that meant only their minds and spirits had been captured. The strange environment inside the tower room suddenly made sense. The room must exist in between the mortal world and the Underworld. Only a powerful being like the King of the Underworld could manipulate the nothingness of in-between to create the illusion of his physical body and the objects in the room.

  Arian appeared on the gallery above, his hand gripping the side of his neck.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Gwyn demanded.

  The gatekeeper scowled at Nightshade and uncovered the bloody holes in his neck.

  “Idiot. Do you not realize the nightstalker will have power over you now? Get out of my sight.” Gwyn waved a dismissive arm. Arian stalked into the shadows. A moment later, the door above slammed.

  Gwyn had yet to discover that Dai and Olwyn also carried Nightshade’s bite. If necessary, he might bend their will, but after only one bite, his influence would be weak. He tested the mobility of his injured shoulder and winced as pain shot through his torso. He couldn’t afford to be weak; he must protect Michael and Cordelia’s bodies while he decided how to rescue their minds and spirits from the tower.

  When he stumbled forward, a huntsman raised his hand and four hounds surrounded Nightshade, teeth exposed, growls rumbling in their throats.

  With a grunt of pain, Nightshade leaned back against the wall. He was in no state to battle the wild hunt. He couldn’t even fly, because the muscles in his back would pull on his injured shoulder.

  Gwyn stooped over Cordelia, removed a leather thong from her neck, and held it up. A sick jolt shook Nightshade when he recognized Michael’s Magic Knot. With dawning horror, he understood what Gwyn intended to do.

  “No,” he screamed. He tried to change into his shade form but nothing happened. “Shit.” He lurched forward, but the snapping jaws of the hounds drove him back against the wall.

  Tossing the thong bearing the stones on the ground, Gwyn held out a demanding hand to the closest huntsman. “Give me an axe.”

  The man fumbled at his belt and handed over a short-handled axe suitable for splitting logs or may be bones.

  Nightshade’s breath stopped, his heart thundering. He shook his head and roared his fury again. Gwyn didn’t even look up, just dropped to his knees, and in one practiced move smashed down the axe.

  Nightshade closed his eyes reflexively, unable to bear the sight. Once Michael’s Magic Knot was shattered, he’d be lost in-between forever.

  Gwyn ap Nudd’s howl of rage rent the air. Nightshade’s eyelids shot up, his gaze drawn to the spot where Michael’s three stone rings lay undamaged on one of the huge flag-stones. Gwyn flattened one hand on the ground to give himself purchase and smashed the axe down on Michael’s Magic Knot repeatedly, grunting with the force of the blows. Eventually he ceased, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  He sat back on his heels, staring at the undamaged stones in disbelief. “Bloody Troy! No wonder he gave up his son without a word. He knew I wouldn’t be able to incarcerate him. When the boy thinks to test the boundaries of his captivity and look for his body, he’ll escape.”

  With a growl, he pushed to his feet and stalked back to Cordelia and Michael’s bodies. “I will have my blood price. The female is no more than mortal. She’ll bear a heavy price for the mistake of bonding herself to one of Troy’s line.”

  Nightshade’s sense of relief disappeared as Gwyn shoved Cordelia’s body off Michael and her head hit the floor with a crack. Gwyn scanned Michael’s prone form, dug in his jeans pockets, and then pulled something from his hand. Gwyn stood, holding up a silver chain bearing a single translucent stone ring. “He only holds one ring of her Knot. In the name of desolation and ruin, where are the other two?”

  Face contorted with anger, he hurled the chain and its s
ingle ring at the wall. With a clink, the pale stone dropped to the ground, still in one piece. Nightshade closed his eyes in relief. When he opened them again, Gwyn stood in front of him, the corner of his lip twitching with contempt. “Where are the pisky female’s other two stones?”

  Nightshade stared unmoving, grateful he didn’t know Whatever Gwyn did to him, he could not betray Cordelia. With a blur of motion, Gwyn’s hand shot out and gripped Nightshade’s injured shoulder. Pain seared along his nerves like molten lava. Nausea rose in his throat and he roared in mindless agony. Gwyn snatched back his hand. “Tell me, stalker, or I’ll send you to join the woman.”

  The pain faded slowly, and his labored breaths calmed. Gradually, conscious thought filtered back into his brain. “I don’t know,” he ground out, relieved he’d taken the precaution of leaving his own Magic Knot at home.

  “I will not be denied.” Gwyn swung away from him. “Has she left them in Cornwall? Is that it?” he raged, while he paced back and forth across the chamber. The hounds wandered into his path, getting in his way.

  “Take the bloody animals back out.” He stabbed his finger at a set of double doors, which must lead back to the kennels Eloise had shown them.

  A sense of frustrated impotence burned through Nightshade at the thought that Eloise and Rhys were waiting for him in Devin’s room. What would become of Rhys if something happened to Nightshade and he couldn’t take the boy to safety?

  When the hounds guarding him trotted out the door and the chamber emptied, Nightshade flexed his wings. Careful not to draw attention to himself, he stepped away from the wall. Could he pick up Cordelia’s single stone on the silver chain without Gwyn noticing?

  Suddenly Gwyn halted his manic pacing and his gaze lost focus. “I sense her. The pisky woman’s mind and spirit stones are here.” He swung around and strode back to Nightshade, brandishing the axe. “Tell me where they are, stalker, or you start losing limbs.”

  “The pisky witch has a familiar,” Olwyn said from the top of the steps.

  “Of course. The cat.” Gwyn’s gaze swept the council chamber, taking in all the levels. “Where’s the cat?”

  With a nasty grin, Gwyn gripped Nightshade’s damaged shoulder again. Nightshade’s teeth ground together as every muscle in his body tightened in screaming protest. “I-don’t-know,” he gasped out through the agony banding his chest. When Gwyn released him, he sagged at the king’s feet, head bowed, swallowing tears of pain and hum iliation.

  Metal whispered against metal in the now silent chamber as Gwyn drew a long curved sword from the scabbard on his belt.

  Nightshade had not imagined he would die like this, on his knees, close to tears.

  His eyelids fell. Relief from the agony in his shoulder would almost be welcome, if not for the fact death meant deserting his friends.

  Gut churning, he waited.

  After what felt like an eternity, he raised his head. Gwyn no longer stood before him. He’d moved to stand over Michael’s prone form, body tense, sword raised. “I cannot kill the son of Troy, but I can cleave his limbs from his body and make the healing so painful, he’ll wish for death.”

  With a surge of strength from pure desperation, Nightshade pushed to his feet, using his wings to help him balance like a youth learning to fly. His mind careened through options. He must lead Gwyn away from Michael’s body. He could take him to Tamsy, but Rhys and Eloise were also in Devin’s chamber.

  Shit. He didn’t have time to think; he must get Gwyn away from Michael now.

  “You want the cat?” he shouted.

  With a determination he didn’t know he possessed, he gritted his teeth and snapped down his wings. A cry ripped from his throat as the muscles in his back dragged at the damaged shoulder. He rose in the air, and halted by the main door, snatching a backward glance to check that Gwyn was following. His legs moved instinctively when his feet touched down, carrying him along the corridor toward the djinn’s chamber. Heart pounding, he slammed open Devin’s door and met Eloise’s startled gaze as she jumped up from her chair with Rhys in her arms.

  “Go.” The word shuddered out; then he collapsed to his knees. Eloise didn’t need to be told twice. Hugging her son, she ran past him and escaped, an instant before Gwyn strode up behind Nightshade and kicked him in the ribs.

  He tumbled over, his head landing on a thick rug by the door. Through a haze of pain and guilt, he watched the poor cat stir from her comfy spot on the bed and lift her head curiously.

  “Now I have you.” Gwyn bore down on Tamsy, but when he reached to grab her, she pranced over his arm with an indignant yowl. He clutched at her and she evaded him again, her coat standing on end as though her tail had been jammed in an electric socket.

  “Bloody cat. You will obey me in my domain. Keep still.” Gwyn snatched at her and she scampered up the purple velvet hanging at the head of the bed and glared down with huge gray eyes from the gold-fringed pelmet on the wall.

  Gwyn leaped onto Devin’s bed and made another grab, but Tamsy was ready As he extended his arms, she leaped onto the top of his head and clawed her way down his back, bounding once on the bed before leaping elegantly to the floor. Then she streaked across the carpet and disappeared through the open door.

  “Stop that cat,” Gwyn hollered at Dai, who had limped up to the doorway.

  Dai blinked as Tamsy scooted between his legs. “Sorry, the creature—”

  “Am I surrounded by idiots?” Gwyn shouldered Dai aside as he stormed out the door. “Sound the horn. I want the wild hunt in full cry after that cat immediately.” Gwyn’s voice faded as he walked away.

  Dai wandered after him. “The whole hunt for one wretched cat,” he grumbled.

  Nightshade levered himself into a sitting position with his good arm. Somehow, he must fetch Michael and Cordelia’s bodies from the council chamber. Then he’d have to think of a way to call their minds and spirits back. Nightshade gritted his teeth to counter the pain and pushed to his knees. Another five breaths and he regained his feet with the help of a chair for support. Then Eloise was at his side, pulling his good arm over her shoulders.

  He pointed at the door. “I must…“

  She shook her head and helped him to Devin’s bed. Even as she eased him down onto his uninjured side, his mind battled to keep him on his feet so he could save Michael. Then pain blotted out his thoughts and feelings with a pulsing, mind-numbing insistence.

  On the edge of consciousness, he thought he heard Master Devin’s voice. He cracked open his eyes. In a hazy nightmare, he watched Devin hold up his hand while one of his pointed fingernails grew into a spike. He jabbed the nail into Nightshade’s neck. Then everything went blissfully dark.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cordelia’s panic over her memory of Dragon ebbed away Control returned, and she stopped her flight. She drifted alone, yet even in this limitlessvoid, Michael’s spiritual presence wassomighty, she couldsense him radiating power like an invisible sun attracting her to his warmth.

  She started moving back toward him, praying he understood her fears, hoping she hadn’t hurt his feelings.

  Out of habit, she searched for Tamsy’s psychic presence. She shuddered with almost painful relief when she touched an inquiring tendril of feline awareness.

  Michael, she reached for him, wondering if he’d hear her. He was there in an instant, surrounding her with pulsing power

  I thoght I’d lost you, love, he said.

  Isense Tamsy. She mustben the tower room. If I can enter her body, I can escape the tower and find Nightshade to help us.

  Go, Michael said. I’ll follow.

  With familiarityborn of much practice, Cordelia’smind and spirit skated along her psychic connection with Tamsy and slipped into the body of her beloved cat.

  She stared out through Tamsy’s mortal eyes. The tower room looked exactly as it had when they’d first met Gwyn. A few yards from her, Thorn and Brian still sat on either side of the Monopoly board, oblivious to the fac
t that she and Michael were trapped in the room with them.

  Cordelia walked Tamsy toward Thorn and leaped onto his lap. Somehow, she must ask him to fetch Nightshade. She tried to say Thorn’s name but only a yowl came from Tamsy’s mouth. Thorn scratched behind her ears. “Settle down, furball, before you poke your claws somewhere tender.”

  Communicating with him was impossible. If she wanted Nightshade’s help, she’d have to go and find him herself. She jumped to the floor, then leaped onto the windowsill. Huntsmen and seers hurried back and forth across the quadrangle below. The stench of canine drifted in on the breeze, while the baying of excited hounds sounded on the far side of the building. The hair on Tamsy’s back rose with a strange prickly sensation.

  Tickling the edge of her perception, she sensed Michael’s mind and spirit close by.

  Urgent footsteps approached and she tensed, ready to flee. Master Devin appeared in the open doorway. “I’m looking for the cat.”

  Despite his help and advice earlier, she still wasn’t sure whether she trusted him completely.

  Thorn glanced at the djinn and his eyebrows rose. “Who’re you?”

  “Michael’s brother.”

  “Huh!” Thorn scanned Devin up and down. “Where’s Dee?”

  “She needs her cat.”

  Thorn frowned for a few moments, then nodded at the window. “Over there.”

  Devin strode toward Tamsy and Cordelia held her ground, deciding to trust him. He picked her up and stared into her eyes. His were deep velvety brown, outlined with kohl, accentuating his exotic appearance. With Tamsy’s superior sense of smell, his aromatic fragrance nearly made her swoon. “Pisky wise woman, are you in there?”

  She stared back at him through Tamsy’s eyes, momentarily stunned by his perception. Then she pulled herself together and yowled.

  He grimaced. “Fish breath.”

  That was a fine thing coming from a man who smelled like an explosion in a perfumery. She tried to answer and another yowl issued from Tamsy’s mouth.