He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a rush. Then he asked, “Did you see the movie Fatal Attraction?”
She shook her head. “We don’t have a movie theater in Sanctuary, and I’m not allowed to leave coven land.”
“And you never rented the videotape?”
She smiled wryly. “To watch a videotape, you need a television set. We don’t have televisions, because the magic circle interferes with the reception.”
“The magic circle? That’s the circular barrier outside?”
“Yes. How did you know about it?” Before he could answer, she said, “Of course. You’re a warlock now, so you can see it.”
“Tell me about the circle,” he said, knowing he was stalling for time. He still wasn’t quite ready to confess that he might be able to kill her.
“It’s a rather long story, Ryan, and I thought that what you wanted to talk about was important.”
“It is important, so, give me a condensed version of the story about the circle. I’m curious about it.”
She frowned, but said, “The coven originally came to this country with the Pilgrims. They were hoping to escape centuries of persecution, and for more than seventy years, they coexisted peacefully among their neighbors. But then the witch hysteria began.”
“You’re talking about the Salem witch trials?” he asked, fascinated.
“There were other trials, but that’s the most famous,” she confirmed. “By the time the hysteria ended, our coven was on the brink of extinction. They decided that the only way to ensure their survival was to move into the wilderness and create a sanctuary. They ended up here, and they combined their powers and formed a magic circle that is fifteen miles in diameter and stretches from ground to sky. It protects the coven, and within its confines we are omnipotent. Or at least we are protected from the mortal world. I’m afraid that a situation like Moira is a different matter.”
“Amazing,” he said.
“You might find it amazing, but I find it confining,” she replied dryly. “My entire life has been limited to a fifteen-mile circle of land.”
Ryan arched a brow. When she put it in that perspective, he could see why she wanted to escape from here so badly. It had to be damn claustrophobic to be confined to such a small area of land.
“But enough about the magic circle,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “What were you trying to tell me about this movie?”
“Yeah, the movie,” he said, realizing that he couldn’t put this off any longer. Raking a hand through his hair, he explained, “In the movie, this married man becomes embroiled in a hot and heavy affair with a single woman. Eventually, he tries to end the affair, but the woman is obsessed with him and doesn’t want to let him go. She ends up trying to kill both him and his wife. Thus, the term ‘fatal attraction.’”
“I see,” Shana said, regarding him in confusion. She’d never heard a more horrible or macabre story. She also had no idea why he was sharing it with her. “That’s a very . . . interesting story. But why are you telling it to me?”
“Because I think we may have a fatal attraction going on here.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you’re married to a mortal?” Shana gasped in disbelief.
“Of course not!”
“Then how could we be involved in a fatal attraction?” she asked, feeling more confused than ever.
“Damn! I’m not handling this well at all,” he muttered. He began to pace in front of her. “Look, when you went to answer the door this morning, Moira delivered another Tarot card.”
“I know that. I found it lying on the floor.” She started to tell him that she also knew that it was the thought of them making love that had made him run, but she decided to hold her peace.
He stopped pacing and stared at her. “Did Moira happen to give you the little preview that went along with it?”
“Preview?” she repeated warily.
He nodded. “Moira gave me what I can only assume was a glimpse of the future. You and I were making love on that card, and then the black sword hanging over us fell on me. At first, I thought it was going to kill me, but it didn’t kill me. It absorbed me, Shana. I became that sword, and then I stabbed you in the heart. That’s the fatal attraction I’m talking about.”
“I see,” she said again as the analogy of his movie finally made sense. “You think Moira was telling you that if we make love, you’ll kill me.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, you’re wrong, Ryan. We’re mates now, and you couldn’t kill me if you wanted to. We’re compelled to protect each other.”
“Then how do you explain what I saw in the card?” he asked in frustration as he began to pace again.
“It was some kind of symbolism, Ryan. Since I didn’t see it, I don’t know what it meant, but I do know that it didn’t mean actual death. I’m serious when I say you couldn’t kill me if you wanted to. That would be against the rules.”
He came to an abrupt halt and stared at her, but it was a strange stare. She felt as if he were looking through her. She shivered at the eerie sensation.
“Do you know some old man by the name of Morovang?” he suddenly asked.
“Of, course,” she said, relieved to see that his gaze was now focused on her. “He’s one of the coven’s narrators. How do you know about Oran?”
“When I was out in the woods, I met him and his great-granddaughter, Kendra.”
“They approached you?” Shana said in disbelief.
“Yes, and the old man had some interesting things to say.”
“Like what?”
“He said that I was fulfilling some prophecy.”
“A prophecy?” Shana repeated in bewilderment. “What kind of prophecy?”
“That’s what I asked him, but he said he couldn’t tell me. He was horrified, however, to discover that Moira hadn’t, and I quote, ‘revealed everything to me.’ He then said that Moira isn’t playing by the rules. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell me what the rules were, either. He did, however, give me something that he implied would help me.”
“And what did he give you?” Shana asked in trepidation. The narrator’s job was to observe and nothing more. If Oran had actually become involved, then something was seriously wrong.
She watched Ryan reach into his pocket. When he removed his hand, it was closed in a fist. He extended it toward her and uncurled his fingers.
When Shana saw the witch stone cradled in his palm, her hands flew to her mouth. They didn’t get there in time to muffle her gasp of horrified disbelief.
Oran’s wrong! she told herself, as she gave a desperate shake of her head. He has to be wrong!
The future is mine, and now yours will be mine! Moira crowed triumphantly, as a Tarot card suddenly appeared in Ryan’s open hand. It was Temperance, reversed, and the mystical warlock clothed in pentagrams from the crown on his head to the sandals on his feet bore Ryan’s face.
As Shana stared at the card, she saw the mystical warlock’s visage begin to waver and change. A moment later, he resembled Aric.
Shana gave a desperate shake of her head, refusing to accept what she was seeing. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. If it was, then nothing would be as it should be!
Unfortunately, she knew it had to be true, because that’s exactly what Temperance in the reverse position meant. Everything was out of balance, and Moira’s delivering the card with the stone clearly told Shana that Ryan wasn’t who he appeared to be. He was . . .
She closed her eyes and shook her head again, unable to make herself finish the thought.
Chapter Thirteen
Justice Card (Reversed)
Unfairness
CAUGHT OFF GUARD by Shana’s distressed reaction to the stone, it took Ryan a moment to realize that a Tarot card h
ad suddenly appeared in his hand. Before he had a chance to see what the card looked like, Shana grabbed both it and the stone.
“What’s going on?” he demanded, dropping his arm back to his side as he watched her tuck the card into her back pocket.
She closed her hand over the stone and looked up at him, her eyes wide and frightened. “I . . . You’re . . . Oh, I don’t believe this is happening. It can’t be happening. It isn’t fair!”
Ryan took a deep breath against the alarm coiling inside him. He had said the same thing to Oran Morovang. He couldn’t believe it when he heard himself mimic the old man with, “Who said life is supposed to be fair?”
She gaped at him before railing, “How can you stand there and be so calm at a time like this?”
“Believe me, I’m anything but calm, Shana. Right now, my gut feels like an atomic bomb has been detonated inside it. The problem is, I don’t know what set it off, so how about answering my question. What’s going on?”
She stared at him, her eyes filled with so much torment that they made his heart ache. He wanted to reach out and draw her into his arms. He wanted to croon nonsensical words of comfort in her ear. He wanted to be the rock she could cling to in her distress, but how could he be her rock when he was floundering himself?
“Shana, please tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, we’ll figure out a way to deal with it,” he encouraged.
She opened her hand and looked down at the rock. Then she looked back up at him, her expression resigned. “Did Oran tell you anything about this stone?”
“He said it’s called a witch stone, and that it’s a piece of ancient, fossilized sponge that’s used to travel back in time.” He paused and glanced down at the rock. Returning his gaze to hers, he said, “I’ll admit that I’ve had to come to terms with a lot of unbelievable things in the past couple of days, but a rock that acts like a time travel machine? You might be able to sell it to H. G. Wells, but I’m sorry, Shana. I can’t buy this one.”
“What if Oran wasn’t talking about time travel, Ryan? What if he was talking about . . . reincarnation?” she suggested hesitantly.
Ryan blinked at her, sure he’d misunderstood her. “Reincarnation?”
She nodded, her expression so solemn that he knew she was serious.
“That’s absurd. Everyone knows that there is no such thing as reincarnation.”
“I’m not very familiar with the mortal world, Ryan, but Sanctuary has an excellent library. From what I have read, a good portion of the world’s mortal population does believe in reincarnation.”
“But you don’t believe in it, do you?” he challenged.
She shrugged. “We don’t believe that everyone is reincarnated. But we do believe that the soul is eternal, and if a soul’s need is great enough, then, yes, reincarnation does occur.”
Ryan let out a brittle laugh. “So, who in hell am I supposed to be?”
“Aric.”
His jaw dropped in shock. When he realized his mouth was hanging open, he closed it and said, “Oh, come on. You can’t really believe I’m Aric.”
“When you consider everything that’s happened, I think that’s the only logical answer,” she said. “I couldn’t figure out why Moira kept turning you into Aric. Aric killed her, so it didn’t make sense that she would want to use his personification.”
“And because she’s turned me into Aric, you’ve reached the conclusion that I am him?” Ryan stated skeptically. “That’s one hell of a leap, Shana, especially when you don’t have one fact to support your theory.”
“But I do have facts to support it,” she countered. “You told me yourself that you are here to repeat a cycle, and Oran told you that you’re fulfilling a prophecy. There’s also the fact that if Moira’s only desire was to be released from her curse, then any soul should suit her purposes. But she doesn’t want any soul, Ryan. She wants your soul specifically. She wants it so badly that she connected with you on Samhain, and she drew you here on Beltane Eve. She’s also made it clear that this battle is between you and her, and she’ll destroy anyone who gets in the way.
“I don’t know what you call behavior like that in the mortal world,” she went on, “but in my world, we call it revenge. And the only person I can think of that Moira would hate that badly is Aric. Like your fatal attraction story, she was obsessed with him, and she sold her soul to the dark forces to get him. But Aric not only rejected her. He killed her and condemned her to an eternity of unrest. Now, if you were in Moira’s place, and you had a chance to condemn him to the hell you’ve suffered through for five hundred years, would you pass it up?”
Ryan began to pace as he argued, “Okay, let’s look at your premise. It’s true that Moira has every reason to hate Aric. But you said that a soul has to have a great enough need to reincarnate. What’s Aric’s need? Moira killed the woman he loved, and when he killed Moira, he got his revenge by balancing the scales. An eye for an eye, so to speak. Why would he come back and give Moira a chance to get even?”
“That’s what the witch stone can tell us,” Shana answered. “Until we know the true story of what happened between Aric and Moira, then everything is merely conjecture.”
Ryan stopped pacing and looked at her. “And what if you’re wrong? What if I’m not Aric? What will the witch stone tell us then?”
“That depends on whether or not you’re a reincarnated soul. If you are, then whoever you were will come out. If you aren’t, then nothing will happen.”
“And it’s that simple?”
She shook her head. “There is nothing simple about past life regression. It is a serious undertaking and should not be taken lightly. A soul can choose to reincarnate for many different reasons, but it’s often because it wants to atone for some terrible misdeed it performed in its previous life. If you are not emotionally prepared to handle that type of knowledge, it can be devastating to your psyche.”
“Do you think that’s the case with Aric? Do you believe he did something terrible to Moira—besides the obvious act of killing her, of course—that made him reincarnate?”
“What I believe is that if you decide to use the witch stone, then you must be prepared for the worst and hope for the best.”
“What do you mean if I use it? You’re making it sound as if I have a choice.”
“You do have a choice. You don’t have to use the stone.”
“Of course I have to use it,” he grumbled. “Oran Morovang said that Moira isn’t playing by the rules. My gut instinct says that if she’s breaking them, then she has an Achilles’ heel she doesn’t want us to know about. If we know the rules, then maybe we can figure out what that weakness is. And the only way for us to find out what’s going on is for me to use the stone.”
“So, you accept that it’s possible you are Aric’s reincarnation?”
“Hell, I don’t know what I think anymore,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “All I know for sure is that—pardon the pun—we cannot leave any stone unturned. So how do I make that damn thing work? We might as well get this over with,” he finished, nodding toward the rock.
“You won’t be able to use the stone until your powers are stronger, and that won’t be until nightfall,” she replied.
“Nightfall?” he repeated warily. When she nodded, he said, “I can’t wait until nightfall.”
“You don’t have a choice, Ryan. Until your powers are stronger, you won’t be able to make the stone work.”
“There has to be some way to make it work before then,” he argued.
She frowned at him. “Why are you being so insistent about this?”
“Because I have to be gone by nightfall.”
“Gone? To where?”
“To anywhere that isn’t near you!” When she regarded him in confusion, he sighed in frustration. “Shana,
I told you what I saw in that damn Tarot card of Moira’s. If we make love, I’m going to harm you, maybe even kill you. If what you’ve said about this uncontrollable mating urge is true, then I have to make sure that I’m so far away from you that I can’t act on it.”
She released an exasperated sigh. “I explained that it’s impossible for you to harm me, Ryan. And I really hate to break this to you, but you can’t leave coven land. I don’t think that’s enough space for you to get so far away from me that you can’t act on the mating urge.
“You don’t know how determined I can be.”
“Well, you can be as determined as you want, but it isn’t going to change the fact that you can’t use the witch stone until nightfall. So, what I suggest is that you get some sleep, and we’ll worry about everything else when the time comes.”
“I’m not tired.”
“That’s because you’re operating at a warlock’s energy level, but even a warlock needs a few hours rest to function at his peak,” she said impatiently. “And you need to be in top form come nightfall, because Moira’s going to be back with all her powers intact. If you’re exhausted, you’ll be more likely to make a mistake when dealing with her, and a mistake with Moira could be fatal for both of us.”
“And if we end up making love that could prove to be fatal to you,” he rebutted.
“Well, at least I’ll die with a smile on my face,” she said wryly.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he muttered.
“Oh, but I am sure about that,” she said, her gaze moving over him suggestively.
“Stop that,” he ordered gruffly as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. It was the only way he could keep from grabbing her and kissing her, and he knew he didn’t dare do that.
“Only if you promise to go get some rest,” she said, giving him a cheeky grin.
“I’ll get some sleep if you promise that you’ll get me up before nightfall so I can get away from you,” he said irritably.
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