“Why would I take it personally? I’m not a warlock,” she said as she drew close enough to see that he still hadn’t put on a shirt.
“Yeah, I know. You’re a witch, but I bet you don’t have any bad habits either.”
“Believe me, Ryan, I have tons of bad habits, and . . . Oh, my word! Look what you’ve done to yourself!” she gasped when she got close enough to see the scratches all over his upper body.
He glanced down at himself and shrugged. “It’s just a few scratches. Nothing to worry about.”
“Of course, it’s something to worry about,” she said in exasperation as she came to a stop in front of him and frowned. “Scratches can become infected. We need to get you home so we can put something on them.”
“I said it’s nothing to worry about,” he repeated, scowling at her. “I am a doctor, and I know what the hell I’m talking about. So stop trying to play nursemaid. I can take care of myself.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that you can’t take care of yourself, Ryan. I was merely expressing my concern.”
“Well, I don’t want your concern, so don’t waste it on me. Save it for someone who cares.”
Shana arched a brow at his belligerent tone. “I’m your mate, Ryan. I couldn’t stop being concerned about you if I wanted to, which, I assure you, I don’t.”
“Damn you!” he bellowed as he suddenly leaped to his feet. He grabbed her shoulders in a painful grip and shook her hard. “How many times do I have to tell you, We are not married!”
Stunned by his volatile reaction, Shana stared up at him in disbelief. A gale force wind was emanating from him, and his expression was so furious that it truly frightened her. What had she done to make him so enraged?
“I’m not sure why you’re so angry with me,” she said, unable to keep the quaver out of her voice. ‘But I would appreciate it if you would let me go. You’re hurting me.”
He blinked at her words, and then he released her with a violent curse. The wind disappeared as quickly as it had arisen, and Shana didn’t need powers to realize he’d turned his anger inward. His expression was still furious and his body had gone rigid.
“Ryan, what is wrong with you?” she asked, raising her hand to his arm.
“Don’t touch me!” he stated in a voice so low and taut that it sounded like the crack of a whip.
Hurt, she quickly pulled her hand away. “I just want to help.”
“Then leave me the hell alone.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan, but I can’t do that. You’re my . . .
“Don’t say it!” he broke in curtly. “I never again want to hear the word ‘mate’ in relation to me.”
“Well, what would you like me to call you?” she asked impatiently. His refusal to accept their relationship was beginning to make her own temper stir.
“I would just as soon you didn’t call me at all,” he snapped. “Unfortunately, Moira has different ideas, so until I can get her off my ass and blow out of this hellhole, I guess I’m stuck with you.”
Shana sucked in a harsh breath at his gibe. Unable to decide if she should be offended or angry, she decided to ignore both reactions. They could deal with this problem later. Right now, they had a more pressing one—Moira.
“Look, Ryan, I don’t know why you’re so upset, and obviously, you don’t want to explain it. What I do know is that if we hope to beat Moira, then we need to get some answers.”
She paused to retrieve the witch stone from the pocket in her robe. Extending it toward him, she said, “If you’re still willing to use this, then I think we’d better get started.”
Ryan stared down at the rock, his pulse picking up speed and his mouth going dry. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so nervous about using the stone. He knew that Shana was right. They needed answers, and after his little tête-à-tête with Moira, he was convinced they needed them fast. Otherwise, he was sure to do something that would inadvertently tick Moira off, and it would probably cost Shana her life. And he had to save her. He’d lost too many souls to death. He couldn’t let her be another.
So why, instead of agreeing with Shana, did he hear himself say, “I don’t think I can use the stone, Shana. I can’t be hypnotized.”
“There is no hypnosis involved, Ryan. The stone will do everything for you. But if you’re . . . uncertain about this, just say so, and we’ll find another way.”
“You know as well as I do that there isn’t any other way,” he stated dryly. “And you don’t have to couch your words with me by saying things like, ‘if you’re uncertain,’ when you really mean ‘if you’re afraid.’
“And in case you’re wondering,” he went on, “yes, I am afraid, but not in the way you think. What scares the hell out of me is that I might find out reincarnation is a reality.”
“And why would that frighten you?” Shana asked in confusion.
“Because if it’s true that you have to pay for the sins you commit in this life in your next life, then I’m in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
Before she could respond, he grabbed the stone out of her hand and said, “Let’s get this show on the road before I lose my nerve.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Empress Card
Fertility
RYAN HAD SUSPECTED for a long time that he’d gone off his rocker. As he stared down at the stone in his hand and realized he was about to use a rock to attempt a past life regression, he knew it was time for a serious mental health checkup.
He jerked his head up when Shana said, “Having second thoughts?”
“More like fourth or fifth thoughts, but what the hell. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” When she frowned worriedly, he gave her a rueful smile and said, “Quit worrying about me, Shana. I can handle this. So, like I said before, let’s get this show on the road.”
Picking up on her thoughts, he knew she was still worried, but she said, “We need to sit in the center of the meadow.”
“You want to do this out here?”
“It’s the perfect environment,” she explained, as she started walking.
He fell into step beside her. “Why is it perfect?”
“The witch stone is the fossil of an ancient sponge, so it was once alive. That connects it to the wellspring of life. Out here, you are surrounded by living things, which creates a natural bridge between nature’s energy of the present and nature’s energy of the past. It’s that energy that will allow you to connect with the memories of the past. Let’s sit here,” she said.
“So what now?” he asked, when they were seated cross-legged on the grass.
“Before you do anything, you need to put on a special charm.”
She reached into her robe’s pocket and pulled out a small, drawstring pouch. It was just like the ones that Oran and Lucien carried.
“What is that bag?” Ryan asked, curious.
“It’s my charm bag. It holds protective charms, as well as some potions that are used in protective spells.” She withdrew a fine, gold chain, from which a round, clear crystal was suspended.
“You don’t expect me to wear another necklace!” Ryan objected, touching the witch’s vow already around his neck.
She held it out to him. “This is not a necklace, Ryan. It’s a special crystal that will protect you from undue disturbances, such as an animal walking by. It will also keep you from being magically harmed during your psychic state.”
“In other words, it will keep Moira away.” He reluctantly took it and slipped it over his head. “If you ever tell anyone I’ve resorted to wearing jewelry, I’ll make you rue the day.”
“Your secrets are safe with me.”
She made the statement so softly, so solemnly, that Ryan knew she wasn’t just talking about the necklaces. He shifted uncomfortably and muttered, “Yeah, well, I’m properly ador
ned. What should I do now?”
Even if he hadn’t been able to read her mind, her expression told him that by not responding to her comment, he had hurt her feelings. He expected her to say something about it and was surprised when she chose to ignore it. That made him feel like an even bigger heel.
“You’re left-handed, right?” she said. He nodded. “That means you need to hold the stone in your right hand, which is your receptive hand.”
“Receptive hand?”
“Yes. The dominate hand is your projective hand. Through it you release your personal energy—your mental power and your physical strength. Your receptive hand is the calm, spiritual side of your energy. That’s the power you use for meditation, and such.”
“What happens if you’re ambidextrous?”
“Then you’re in perfect balance, so you can use either hand.”
Ryan transferred the stone to his right hand and looked down at it. “Now, what?”
“When you’re ready to start, you need to close your eyes, clear your mind, and breathe deeply,” she instructed. “Let yourself get in touch with nature, become one with it. When you’ve finally reached that stage, you’ll feel the energy vibrating in the witch stone. At that point, you should let your energy connect with it. It will let your subconscious open to the memories of the past. Once you’ve done that, I want you to say my name. When you do, I’ll start asking you questions. If you find yourself reliving a scene that’s too upsetting for you to deal with, all you have to do is release the stone. The moment you do, you’ll be back in the present.”
“It doesn’t sound like a complicated process,” Ryan told her.
“It isn’t complicated. It’s just a matter of concentration. Don’t fight it. Flow with it, and it will happen naturally and quickly.”
“Assuming that I really am Aric’s reincarnation, when I open up the memories will I be me or will I be Aric? I guess what I’m asking is, will I know what’s going on?”
“You’ll be Aric during the regression, but when you return, you will remember everything you learned.”
“Okay,” he said. “I guess it’s time.”
“Not quite,” she said, nervously fingering the fabric of her robe. “Before we begin, you need to cast a spell over me that will shield my thoughts from you.”
“Why do I need to do that?” Ryan asked, frowning. A short time ago, he would have given anything to be able to shut her out of his mind. Now that she was suggesting it, however, he found the thought intolerable.
“Because you need to be completely focused within yourself. Now that we’re . . . friends, we’re too intimately connected, and my thoughts and emotions could interfere with that process.”
Ryan’s frown deepened. He wasn’t disturbed by what she was saying, because it made perfect sense. What bothered him was her use of the word “friends,” and that was ridiculous. He had ordered her not to refer to them as mates, and that was what she had been about to say. But she could have come up with a better description of their relationship than “friends.” It was so . . . innocuous, and what they had shared tonight had not been innocuous.
He started to correct her, to declare that they were more than friends, when his common sense surfaced. After all, he didn’t want to encourage her.
“Do I use the same spell that I used to shield you from Sebastian?” he asked instead.
“The hand gesture is the same, but the spell’s a bit different,” she answered. “The one you used before allowed me to portray what I wanted Sebastian to believe. This spell will cut me completely off from you.”
Again, Ryan experienced a strange aversion to the thought of being closed off from her mind. He quickly tamped it down. “Okay, give me the words to the spell.”
She said them. He repeated them, circled his wrist in a clockwise motion and pointed his index finger at her. He watched spell-lightning erupt from his finger and circle her. Before he could even blink, he was disconnected from her mind.
Ryan felt as if he’d just been kicked in the gut. Losing contact with her gave him a strange feeling of . . . emptiness. He didn’t like the feeling at all, and he wanted to undo the spell immediately. But to do that, he’d have to ask her for the reverse spell. That would let her know that it bothered him to be separated from her. Instinct said that was a weapon too dangerous to give her.
“Whenever you’re ready, you can start the regression,” she said, interrupting his brooding.
“Yeah.” He glanced down at the stone and folded his fingers over it. Then he glanced back up at her. “Well, as they say, there is no time like the present—although, in this case, I guess that should be the past.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, telling himself to concentrate. He forced his mind to empty of everything but the sounds surrounding him. He heard the sigh of a soft breeze and the rustling of leaves. There was the distant hoot of an owl and the low croaks of frogs. There were other sounds he couldn’t identify, but he didn’t need to identify them. All he had to do was feel them, and doing so seemed as natural to him as breathing.
He had no idea how much time passed before he felt the soft vibration of the witch stone, and he didn’t care. Time seemed unimportant, insignificant. He just let the vibrations of the stone absorb him into the continuum of all that was, of all that had ever been.
His mind seemed to slip away from this body, from this time, this place. And then he was settling into another body. One that, remarkably, seemed more familiar to him than the one he’d just left. He knew, at that moment, that he had come home.
“SHANA?”
As Ryan’s eyes suddenly flew open and he spoke her name, Shana started. He was looking at her, but his eyes were unfocused. She knew instinctively that he’d done it. He’d gone back in time, so he was a reincarnated soul. But was he Aric?
She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. Though she had been schooled in the techniques of past life regression, this was the first time she had been involved with one. She reminded herself that the key to a successful interview was to keep the questions straightforward, businesslike. That way you didn’t color the regressed person’s responses by asking them leading questions. With that in mind, she said, “I’m Shana. May I ask your name?”
“I am Aric.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Aric,” she said, shivering. It was one thing to believe he was Aric. It was quite another to have him confirm it. She was also surprised that he was speaking in modern English. Then she realized that it was really Ryan answering the questions, so it wasn’t so surprising after all. “May I ask what you do for a living?”
“I am a healer.”
“A healer,” she repeated. She found it interesting that he’d chosen the same profession in this incarnation. Normally, a reincarnated soul chose a different line of work. “That’s a very noble profession. You must be greatly admired among your people.”
“Yes,” he said with a frown.
“You’re frowning, Aric. Is there something wrong with being admired?”
“They expect miracles from me. I try, but . . .”
“I understand,” Shana murmured sympathetically when his voice trailed off. “It must be terribly hard when you’ve done all that you can do, and it just isn’t enough.”
“Yes,” he said with a heavy sigh.
“Aric, you have knowledge that is very important to me. May I ask you some questions?”
“I am very busy. I am a healer,” he said, frowning again.
“I know you’re very busy, Aric, and I promise that I won’t take up much of your time. Will you answer my questions?”
He hesitated, but then he nodded. “I will answer them.”
“Good,” Shana said, smothering a relieved sigh. For a moment she thought he might den
y her request, and she didn’t know what she would have done. She couldn’t force him to cooperate with her.
“Aric, you know a witch named Moira. Can you tell me how you met her?”
His expression became alarmed. “No one must know about Moira! You must leave! At once!”
Shana blinked, startled by his obvious fear. “Aric, there is no reason for you to be afraid of me. I promise you that I won’t tell anyone about Moira.”
He shook his head adamantly. “You must leave. I will not talk to you.”
Shana opened her mouth, but closed it when she realized she didn’t know what to say. Damn! She was so close to getting the answers they needed. Why was he so frightened?
She regarded him for a moment and then said, “Aric, I already know about Moira, and I have brought no harm to you. You can trust me.”
He shook his head again. “No. Moira said I must trust no one. If I tell, she will kill her.”
“She will kill whom?” Shana asked, gaping at him. Murder was against every principle that governed her race. They were not allowed to bring harm to another human being, not even to protect themselves, which was why they had been so devastated by the witch hunts.
He glanced around furtively, as though trying to assure himself that they were alone. Then he leaned toward her and whispered, “Terza.”
“Why will she kill Terza if you tell?” Shana asked in bafflement. Terza was a witch, and had been a part of Moira’s coven. As the high priestess, Moira was compelled to protect Terza, even if it cost her her own life.
“I cannot tell you,” Aric said, nervously glancing around again.
“Aric, please. You must trust me. Moira is also threatening someone I love. I can’t help him if you don’t answer my questions. I swear to you that I mean you no harm. I just need to know about you and Moira. Your story might help me save him.”
He stared at her belligerently for a long moment, and she was sure he was going to refuse her request. Then he suddenly said, “Terza was very ill and I could not help her.”
He paused and raked a hand through his hair. His expression was tormented when he finally continued, “I know it was wrong, but I love Terza. I went to the witch and asked for her help. She agreed to cure Terza, but only if I promised to never tell that she had cured a mortal.”
Touch of Magic Page 24