Visions of Magic a-1

by Regan Hastings

  He laughed shortly.

  “What?” Offended, she pushed at his arm, but didn’t budge it an inch.

  “You’ve been kidnapped, implanted with electronic bugs, imprisoned, shot and nearly blown up all in the space of less than two weeks.”

  “True. But you know what else I’ve been?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’ve been with you,” she said, dragging her fingers across the breadth of his chest, tracing the curve of the mating brand. “I’ve been part of a team. I’ve found out who I am and have begun to learn how to use what I am. I’ve been made love to by a damn expert-”

  He gave her a smug, purely masculine smile.

  “-and if it all ends tomorrow, I’ll regret leaving you, but I won’t regret a moment of anything else.”

  His arm around her tightened and the smile on his face disappeared. “Nothing will happen to you, Shea. I finally have you and I won’t let you go. No matter what. I need you to believe that. Believe in me.”

  “I do,” she said, clutching him to her, holding tight and fast to the huge man who had so quickly become the most important person in her world. “I really do, Torin.”

  “Good.” He kissed her, fast and hard. “Now, lie back, and let me find that damn tracker so we can get out of here.”

  Shea did as he asked and rolled to her back. Lifting her arms, she stretched them out behind her head, baring herself to his concentrated gaze. His fingers moved over and under the curve of her left breast, following the trail of her witch tattoo that became more defined, more a part of her, every day.

  “Can you feel it?”

  “No,” he said. “I’m going to call on the fire, use magic to find it. Hold still.”

  She watched him, unable to tear her gaze from the man. His long, dark hair fell to his shoulders, and his pale eyes were narrowed and focused on his task.

  Flames leapt into life on his fingertips. With his right hand, he slowly traced the curve of her breast, pressing the living fire into her skin.

  She felt the heat, dizzying as it spread across her chest, over her abdomen and then lower, settling in the very center of her. The heat became an ache and despite the situation she was in, Shea felt the stirrings of need whip through her again.

  Torin had explained that once the mating began, they would feel a constant need. With every day that passed, their bond became stronger. The brand grew and spread across their skin. Their mental and physical link was defining itself anew at every moment.

  It was as if they actually were two halves of a whole, finally coming together after an eternity apart.

  All Shea knew was that she ached for him. Ached to feel his body pressing down onto hers. Until their thirty days were over, their mating would become more frenzied, more intimate, more vital. Though she couldn’t imagine it getting any better than it already was.

  Torin continued his exploration of the curve and mound of her breast, forcing the flames and the power they sprung from to dig deep within her. To go beneath the skin and into the very muscles of her body and finally, he found what he sought.

  “It’s there,” he said, voice tight with an anger he refused to release. “Magic found it, but I’ll have to cut it out as I did the last one. Rune told me one of the witches was a metal caller and pulled the tracker out of Terri’s body. I don’t have that magic.”

  Shea nodded, tightening her fists over the headboard behind her. “It’s all right. I’m ready. Get it out of me, Torin.”

  He straightened, held up one hand and his knife appeared, lamplight glinting off the long, wicked blade. Looking down at her, he held Shea’s gaze for a long moment.

  “Do it, Torin.”

  “This will hurt, but I will take as much of your pain as possible.”

  She nodded and braced herself. The tip of his blade dug into her flesh at the base of her breast. She arched up off the bed and clenched her jaw tight at the sharp slap of pain. He was forced to dig for the tracker and before he was finished, Shea was whimpering. The muscles in her arms were locked in the death grip she had on the headboard. A single tear seeped from the corner of her eye and a relieved breath slid from her lungs as he held up the chip to show her.

  “Is that it?” she asked. “Is that all of them?”

  He stretched out his hand, laid the tracker on the bedside table and smashed it with the hilt of his knife. Frowning, he bent to her breast again and ordered, “Hold on to me so that I can seal your wound.”

  She pried one hand off the headboard and laid it over Torin’s shoulder. An instant later, heat bloomed on her flesh as their combined powers linked to heal the slice beneath her breast.

  When he was done, he bent his head and tenderly kissed the spot where his knife had cut her. His tongue traced the pattern of red flames branding her skin and followed the circular tattoo until he came to her nipple. Then he pulled it into his mouth and used his tongue and teeth to drive the last of the pain from her body and mind.

  “Torin…”

  He looked at her, lifted his head and whispered, “I will check your body myself. Every square inch, until we are sure you’re free of their traps.”

  Shea lost herself in the passion between them. Pain was forgotten. Fear was quickly shelved for another time. She wanted, more than anything, to feel alive. Completely alive. And that was possible only when he was inside her.

  “Maybe,” she said, rolling over onto her stomach and looking back at him over her shoulder, “you should start checking me now. If you’re going to be thorough, it could take a while.”

  He gave her a slow, satisfied smile. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said, sliding the flat of his hands up her thighs to the curve of her behind. “I should be thorough.”

  “Let me help,” she offered, going up on her knees as she grabbed hold of the headboard again. She wiggled her behind and parted her legs in invitation. “I don’t want you to miss anything, now do I?”

  “I promise you,” he said softly, “no matter how long it takes, nothing will be overlooked. I am a very patient man.”

  Torin came up behind her and ran his fingers through the dark red curls guarding her damp, hot flesh until her hips rocked and her breath came in short gasps. When neither of them could take the separation any longer, he mounted her and shoved himself into her depths.

  The slap of flesh meeting flesh, the harsh, labored breathing and the whispered words of promises and pleas were the only sounds in the dimly lit room as once more, the witch and her Eternal made magic as old as time itself.

  “The closest Sanctuary is only a day from here,” Torin assured her. “We’re near enough for you to try to make contact with the portal.”

  “Right.” Naked, Shea sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the mirror Torin had ripped off the wall. She was about to attempt a portal opening spell and she knew that spellwork was more effective if done skyclad. Though it felt weird to be sitting naked in front of a mirror. They were in a roadside motel just outside Norman, Oklahoma. She glanced around at the oh, so familiar generic motel furniture and squelched a sigh.

  Since going on the run, they had been in far too many of these motel rooms.

  “If you have trouble with the spell you’ve written, we can go to Sanctuary in person tomorrow.”

  She nodded, glanced up at him and gave him a brief smile. “We’ve been focusing for days, channeling our powers together to be strong enough to enter the portal. I can do this.”

  “I have faith,” he said. Holding the mirror upright for her, Torin watched as she lit a single yellow candle.

  The wick caught and a wavering flame danced in the stillness. “Yellow for confidence, divination, to stimulate the conscious mind,” she whispered.

  “You remember,” he said just as softly.

  “Yes. More every day. But not quickly enough.” Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, waved her hands over the candle flame three times and whispered the chant she had written only that morning. Widen my eyes that I
may see, the secrets of eternity.

  A spell to open up my powers

  Is what I need in this hour.

  My sisters wait upon my task

  A little help is all I ask.

  Torin grinned, but kept silent so he wouldn’t interrupt her concentration. But damned if he wasn’t enjoying watching his woman find her magical feet. She was proud and resilient and as stubborn as ever. But at the heart of her, she was pure female. And all his.

  “I see the portal,” she said, a half smile on her face. She opened her eyes, stared into the mirror and spoke without looking at Torin. “It’s like a bubble. Shining with the light of a million suns. It’s wavering, like a mirage in the desert.”

  “Can you reach in?” he asked quietly.

  “I think so.” She drew one long, deep breath and leaned forward, over the dancing candle flame toward the mirror.

  Torin said nothing as she reached into the glass, her hand and arm disappearing from sight. Her features were twisted into a mask of concentration. “It’s right there. I can touch it. Feel it. I just have to… grab it!”

  As she said the last two words, she jerked back, pulling out of the mirror. The candle flame snuffed out as if an unseen breath had blown on it.

  “I did it,” she whispered, glancing up at him with a wide smile.

  He looked at the worn leather book she held in both hands and felt an answering smile on his own face. “You found the book you wanted?”

  “I found the book I cast the spell for,” she said, caressing the cover. “Hopefully, it will give me what I have to know about casting more spells and gathering up the magic we’re going to need.”

  A week later, Torin and Shea were holed up in yet another motel somewhere in Ohio. The last town she remembered going through was Brecksville, a suburb of Cleveland. Since she was geographically challenged in the best of times, she had no idea where that might be on a map. All she really cared about was that they were as lost to the world as they could be.

  Although she knew all too well that nowhere was safe.

  Not for Shea.

  She and Torin had discovered that hard truth during their cross-country ride. Didn’t matter if he’d removed all of the electronic trackers from her body. Their enemies would eventually find them anyway. Shea’s face was on every news channel. Her eyes stared out at them from the covers of magazines and the grainy front pages of newspapers.

  She’d hoped that as more time passed, her story would be forgotten-or at least be moved to the back of the line, behind more breaking news. But rather than the story dying down, it was ratcheting up as the whole country took an interest in the witch who had escaped Terminal Island.

  So the two of them kept moving, driving when Torin’s incredible stores of energies had been sapped. Cars were easy enough to come by. Magic allowed them to take what they needed, leaving behind no memory of their having been there. Being a car thief wasn’t high on Shea’s list of occupations, but then she preferred being a thief to being dead. Over the following days and nights, Shea saw more of the country than she ever had before and knew that if she hadn’t currently been listed as Public Enemy Number One, she might have even enjoyed the trip.

  As it was, all she felt was trapped. The motel was small and clean, but had been decorated sometime in the seventies. There were pink and orange shag throw rugs on the floor and wildly flowered bedspreads. The walls were painted a dark pink and boasted a wallpaper border of orange and pink daisies at the ceiling.

  Under other circumstances she might even have been amused at the place-it was like stepping back in time. But for Shea, this room was yet one more box in a series of boxes where she’d been holed away, denied any freedom of movement. Wherever they were, that closed-in feeling rose up like solid white gold walls around her and Shea wondered if she’d ever really be free again.

  Every night on television, the news channels displayed their Witch Alert Boards. Tiny colored pushpins dotted maps of the country and showed exactly where witches were being caught and imprisoned. There were talk show hosts who made jokes about flying witches and suggested to their audience that they study the night sky and lock up their broomsticks. There were children playing MP and witch on the streets.

  And worse-for them anyway-there was a reward of fifty thousand dollars being offered for Shea’s return.

  That she didn’t understand at all. She was a witch, just like so many others being herded into camps and prisons all over the world. Why was she being singled out?

  “Stay inside,” Torin said as he walked to the motel room door. “I’ll get food and be back in a half hour. Stay away from the windows and don’t open the door to anyone.”

  Irritated, Shea snapped, “I get it, okay? We’ve been doing this for days, Torin. I know the rules.”

  His jaw clenched, but he only nodded as he left.

  The moment he was gone, she regretted tearing into him. After all, he was all she had. The Eternal had been by her side through all of this, had kept her safe, and she felt the connection between them growing every day. She didn’t need to see the spreading tattoo on her skin, already circling around to her back and toward her spine, to know that the bonding between them was almost complete.

  She felt it with every breath she drew.

  Every time he touched her, she knew that she belonged with him and no other. Every time she thought about her past or her future, he was there. A part of it all. He was the only person in the world she could count on. And even he was still somewhat of a mystery.

  He hadn’t told her any more about the last great coven and what had happened after the portal into Hell had opened. He’d insisted that she remember the rest of it herself.

  “You know enough now,” he had said, holding her close, their bodies still locked together. “I’ve given you some of the knowledge, but the Awakening must come from within you. You must be able to draw on your memories as well as your power if we are to complete this task before the month is up.”

  “But the month is nearly half over,” she whispered now to the empty room. “And I don’t have the answers I need yet.”

  Oh, she was learning, remembering. Her dreams were filled with ancient images. Of Shea and Torin through the years. She saw him, unchanging, unflagging, always there, always near her. She saw herself, crafting spells, calling on magics-and those dreams had quickened her latent powers and given her a road map of sorts to spells and chants.

  Yet, the most important information continued to elude her.

  Shea scrubbed her hands up and down her arms and fought the tendrils of uneasiness that crept through her. Without Torin in the room with her, she felt vulnerable. Amazing how much space the man took up. And the aura of strength and fearlessness he gave off was usually enough to quiet her own anxieties.

  She was so rarely alone now, every sound, every rattle of the windowpane made her jump. She half expected one of her former prison guards to leap at her from out of the shadows. To lock her down again and carry her away.

  Away from Torin.

  She could study the book she’d plucked from Sanctuary again, but she believed she had learned as much as she could from the ancient volume. Written in Old English, it hadn’t been easy to read, but the spells and enchantments contained in it had fed the opening power within Shea.

  She would return the book and take another as soon as they neared another Sanctuary. Until then, her subconscious continued to examine what she’d learned for ways to use it. Even as her power grew, she felt herself straining against the cage that enclosed her.

  How could she complete her task if she was never to step out of the protective circle Torin had drawn around her?

  With the walls feeling as though they were closing in on her, she moved to the window, and despite Torin’s orders, carefully pulled back only the edge of the garishly flowered drapes. Instantly, she drew a relieved breath. Just looking at the outdoors was enough to calm the nerves pulsing inside her. But even as she admired the sweep of
the world beyond the glass, she remembered that she had enemies and they could be closer than she’d like.

  She quickly scanned her surroundings and idly noted that most roadside motels looked exactly alike. Lowslung buildings with mostly empty parking lots lying beneath lights that flickered until they winked out altogether. At least this one, she thought, offered a view of a stand of trees just across the street.

  Lifting her gaze from the trees, Shea stared up at the waxing moon shining down from a star-swept sky. The crescent-shaped moon didn’t throw much light, but its pearly glow mesmerized her. The longer she looked, the more she felt herself responding to an inexorable psychic pull. Whispers resonated in her mind and echoed in her soul. It was as if the universe itself was reaching for her. Her skin felt charged, as if there were small electrical pulses beating within her bones.

  She took one long breath, then another. Power grew and bubbled within and she realized what she had to do. This magical pull on her soul was something she couldn’t ignore. No matter what enemy might be waiting for her, no matter Torin’s fury when he found out she’d disregarded his orders, the moon called and she must respond.

  Chapter 35

  For one second, Shea paused to consider the danger inherent in what she was about to do. Her instincts were important, though-hadn’t Torin himself been telling her so? Insisting that she trust the Awakening? Besides, she told herself, when she had accepted the mating, she had also accepted the danger. So she really didn’t have a choice, did she?

  Carefully, quietly, she opened the door and stepped out into the still air. The late-September evening in Ohio still carried the humidity of summer. Cloying, nearly suffocating in its damp heat, the air wrapped itself around Shea like a blanket she couldn’t toss off.

  The scent of the trees filled her and she sensed that power quickening within her again. Witches were of the earth and the elements strengthened her with every breath.