Waltz into Fire

by L. J. Garland

  He looked to Fallon and gave her a cunning smirk. “That is a book of spells, potions, and symbology. I found it in the desk drawer. It’s been used a lot, so I’m thinking it was Aunt Serida’s quick reference guide. Spells that she used frequently. And I think she left it there instead of tucking it on a shelf with all the other books because she meant for us to find it.”

  Hope tried to push through the thick layer of angst that cloaked Fallon. Yes, their aunt probably intended for them to find the journal, but had she meant for them to use it for this? “So, what did you find?”

  “You said we needed to detain the demon, right?” He snatched the book back from Erik and dug through it until he found the page he was searching for. He handed the journal to her.

  She scanned the title written in bold, looped letters. “Demon Trap?” She glanced at the symbol drawn below. “A pentagram? Wyatt, if this really worked, why wouldn’t people be wearing pentagrams all the time for protection?”

  “Some do, I guess.” He shrugged and pointed at the bottom of the page. “But this one is designed to hold a demon on this plane while protecting anyone outside the symbol. What it says is to draw the pentagram in a circle and then there are a bunch of other symbols we add around it.”

  She gazed at the drawing. “I’ve never done anything like this. Looks pretty complicated.”

  Erik laid a hand on her arm. “Our goal here is to find a way to destroy this demon and save Zane, right?”

  She nodded though doubt plagued her. Even if the potion and chant did kill Haileon and saved Zane’s soul, what would be the price?

  “We can do this.” He squeezed her arm. “We’ve got a way to trap the demon now. We’ll be safe.”

  “And,” Wyatt said, his voice fierce, “we already have the way to summon it. You can chuck fireballs at it to get it into the pentagram. Can’t wait to see that.”

  Erik laughed. “It’ll freak you out. One minute there’s nothing, the next she has this ball of fire floating above her hand.”

  His gaze shifted from Erik back to her, and he nodded with a grin. “Righteous.”

  “Seriously, Fallon,” Erik said. “I think we have it all. A summoning spell, a way to trap the demon while keeping us safe, and a potion and chant to kill it.”

  “I don’t know.” Fallon shook her head. It all sounded too easy. If it was so simple to fight off evil, why would their mother and father have created this library? Why would their aunt have separated them and cloaked them with spells when they were babies?

  Wyatt patted her on the back. “Nothing can go wrong.”

  “We need to get started.” Grabbing the tome with the directions on how to kill the demon Annaemut, Erik headed to the library door and paused, turning back to them. “We should tell Zane the good news. I would think he’d be the first to want to know we were about to kick demon ass.”

  “I’ll go get him.” Fallon joined Erik at the door but stopped, a horrible thought coming to her. “Guys, I just realized one huge flaw in your plan. I don’t even know that I can create a fireball from nothing. I’ve only ever done it a couple of times, and that was under pressure.”

  Erik frowned. “I hadn’t realized that. I thought you could control it.”

  She shook her head. “Nope.”

  “No worries, guys. There’ll be pressure.” Wyatt tucked the journal in his back pocket again. “Once we summon Haileon and he’s here, you’ll have no problems.”

  “I don’t know.” Fallon glanced from one brother to the other.

  “Okay,” Wyatt said, his voice commanding. “Here’s what we’ll do. Erik, you go get whatever we need to make this potion. Fallon, you dig through the library, try to find something about making fireballs. I think I saw some stuff on the south wall.”

  “We should call Amber, too,” Erik looked at his brother. “Get her thoughts. Let her know what’s happening.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure she’ll want to be here with us,” Fallon said.

  “Right.” Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll do that when I call her after dinner, but right now, I’ll go tell Zane what we found and what we’re planning. I’m sure he’ll want to be part of it.”

  Without waiting for her response, he pushed between them and headed for the stairs. Erik looked at her and raised his brows. Pivoting toward the kitchen, he strode off to mix up whatever concoction the book directed. Fallon stared after them, hoping her brothers were right, that they’d found a way to save Zane. Hope whispered in her heart.

  Turning toward the floor-to-ceiling shelves on the library’s south wall, she sighed, having no clue where to begin. Pulling a thick book from one shelf, she prayed she would be able to find something to help her control her gift. If not, she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be them doing the ass kicking.

  Chapter Twenty

  Anger clawed Zane’s gut. He hurled another rock out into the turbulent sea, the flat stone catching a whitecap and sending spray over the dark gray waters. Wind whipped around him, the remnants of gale-force currents tugging at his hair and clothes, the ferocity matching his mood.

  He’d screwed everything up. He should’ve let Fallon come to him when she was ready instead of pressuring her on the stairs. Instead of dragging her to his bedroom and taking her. But she’d been so defiant, those gold eyes of hers flashing. She hadn’t run from him or said no. She’d faced him down, challenged him, and kissed him—and damn, what a kiss. He ran his tongue over where she’d nipped his lip. He’d believed she’d wanted him.

  It was just sex, Zane, pure and simple.

  Her words hammered his mind, his self-recrimination slashing at his confidence. Damn it. She might’ve called what they’d shared “just sex,” but it meant much more to him. He’d given her everything he had. And when he should’ve been holding her, pledging his undying love, she’d grabbed her clothes and bolted from his room.

  He side-armed another chunk of granite into the ocean. A small splash, and the rough waters swallowed the rock whole. Yeah, that pretty well matched his mood. All he seemed able to make were miserable splashes before the vast tides consumed his efforts. If only….

  No. What is done is done. He gritted his teeth. Mia had stolen his soul. Fallon had stolen his heart. And Haileon would take the rest of him in a week.

  Seven days, and he would be done.

  The wind tore at him, pushed from the side, shoved from behind. He stared at the churning waters. It would be so easy to just dive in, swim out to sea, and….

  He snatched a rock from the ground and clenched his fingers around it. Now that he’d found Fallon, he’d never wanted to live more. He would stay until the last miserable second—even if that meant only being close to her but never touching her again. It didn’t matter. He would do everything he could to fight Haileon.

  Flinging the stone, he growled, “Fuck you!”

  “Good for you.”

  Zane rounded to find Wyatt standing behind him. “What the hell do you want?”

  “Looking for you.” Moving to stand near him, he shoved his hands in his pockets. He gazed out over the choppy waters for several moments, the wind snatching at their clothes, dark clouds roiling across the sky. “You know, I get that you’re angry.”

  “You have no idea what I’ve been through.” He glared at the guy who looked enough like Fallon to leave no doubt the two were related.

  “The proverbial wringer, I’d say.” He gave him a sideways glance. “How could you not be pissed?”

  “A lot of good it does.” He wanted to hit something but threw another stone instead.

  “You know she loves you, right?”

  “So you say.” Unable to stand still any longer, he marched off over the thin ribbon of sand twisting amid jagged boulders. He needed more distance.

  “I’d say you’re pretty gone on her, too.”

  “Yeah. Lot of good that does with only a few days left to live,” he barked over his shoulder.

  Wyatt jogged up next to him, matched his
stride. “What if I told you we could change that? Give you a chance at a real life with Fallon?”

  He stumbled to a stop. “The hell you say.”

  “Erik and I found some stuff in the library.” He grinned, confidence surfacing in his face. “We’re pretty damn sure we found a way to kill Haileon in all those musty books you bitched about.”

  Shock jolted through Zane. “You what?”

  “Ah-yuh.” He curled his hands into fists. “But the question is…are you ready to kick some demon ass? Are you ready to get your life back and make an honest woman of my sister?”

  Hope wound through him, thick strands binding his tattered soul. Could his desperate wish for a future with Fallon actually be within his grasp? “Tell me what I need to do.”

  “Attaboy.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Fallon and Erik are back at the house, getting things ready. We should head back, see what we can do to speed things up.”

  Wyatt turned up the beach but stopped, his gaze locked on the horizon. Zane followed the direction he stared and spied an odd shimmer over the undulating waters. Narrowing his eyes, he attempted to force the image into focus.

  “What is that?” Zane climbed up onto a nearby boulder for a better look. “Is it rain or mist or something?”

  “I don’t know.” Wyatt’s voice was gruff and quiet. “Nothing.”

  “What?” Zane gazed at the strange phenomenon hovering over the tumultuous sea. “It’s huge. And I think I saw some lights flashing.”

  “It’s just St. Elmo’s fire.” He cleared his throat. “You see it from time to time after thunderstorms.”

  Zane glanced down at Wyatt. For a supposed naturally reoccurring incident, the guy sure appeared rattled. But instead of pressing him, Zane jumped down to the sand and headed back to the mansion. He needed to help get rid of Haileon first. He could question Wyatt about the strange glowing lights afterwards.

  Two hours later, he exited the rear of the house in search of Fallon. Her brothers had all but completed their part of the plan and had asked him to go check on her. He discovered her out on the grounds, tattered shrubs standing guard to her right and a line of damaged trees to her left. Twenty yards in front of her, she’d set up several sawhorses with buckets and plates propped on top. He paused on the veranda steps to watch her.

  Standing on a sea of grass, the dark sky rolling overhead, she resembled a sorceress. The wind whipped her black hair, fanning strands out behind her. Inhaling, she thrust her right hand out in front of her, palm up, in a graceful movement. A ball of fire ignited above her fingers. She exhaled, and the molten orb increased from the size of a golf ball to a cantaloupe.

  Zane grinned. Damn, she’s amazing.

  With a flick of her fingers, she sent the ball hurtling toward the targets. But the orb flew too high, only tagging the edge of the plate.

  “Damn it.” Fallon’s shoulders slumped.

  “Not bad.”

  She whirled around, a deep flush staining her cheeks. “I missed.”

  “No you didn’t.” He descended the steps and crossed the damp grass to her. “You nicked it.”

  “The plate.” She rolled her eyes at the targets. “I was aiming for the bucket.”

  “Oh.” He chuckled.

  “Jerk.”

  She shoved him, and he caught her hand, pulling her against him. She stared up at him, her eyes wide, her delicious lips parted. Oh, how he wanted to ravage that mouth, but he restrained himself.

  Her brow knitted. “Zane—”

  He spun her away from him to face the targets again. One arm around her waist, he slid his hand down her right arm and lifted it. “Look, I might not know anything about throwing fireballs, but it can’t be that much different from any other sport that involves throwing a ball. It’s about aim.”

  He tightened his hold, his fingers grasping her hip. Fallon leaned back, her body molding to his, and Zane swallowed. She felt so good. It would be so easy to lay her down here in the grass, bury himself inside her, and watch her arch as he brought her to orgasm again. He gritted his teeth at the impulse. Would he always want her with such ferocity?

  “The only sport I was ever into was calf roping.” She sighed.

  “Okay.” He breathed in the flowery scent of her shampoo, and need wound tighter through him. She was liquid heat against him. Dipping his head, he moved his mouth next to her ear, resisting the urge to nip the lobe. “Any pitcher or basketball player knows that the release of the ball is critical. You need to let it roll off the tips of your fingers.”

  “Okay,” she said, her voice husky.

  Turning her palm up, he brushed his thumb over her wrist. Her pulse tapped a quick beat beneath his touch, and he bit back a moan. First things first—they needed to kill Haileon. Then he could convince her their relationship was more than just sex.

  “Make a fireball,” he murmured next to her ear.

  She inhaled, and a flame ignited above her palm. Surprise thrummed through him, and he imagined he could sense the orb she’d created. The power. The heat.

  “Good.”

  He inhaled, and when she exhaled, he breathed out with her. The ball grew larger.

  Her body tensed. “Zane, it’s bigger than before. I’ve never….”

  The molten orb, now the size of a soccer ball, undulated in the air above her hand. Zane tightened his grip on her wrist. Damn. Had his touching her, his exhaling with her, the connection between them—had he multiplied her power somehow?

  “It’s okay.” He tore his gaze from the fire. “You can do this. Focus on the bucket. When you move your fingers, make sure the tips are aimed exactly where you’re looking. Point at it if you have to.”

  “The fireball’s too big.”

  “Look at your target, Fallon.” He risked a kiss to her temple. “Now. One…two…three.”

  She flicked her fingers, and the ball leapt from her hand, hurtling across the expanse to slam into the wood pail. Splinters rained through the air. Smoke curled in the wind.

  Fallon jolted then let out a squeal. “We hit it!”

  Twirling around, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. All that he’d held back rushed to the forefront, and he gathered her to him. When she opened her mouth to him, he didn’t hesitate. Caressing her tongue with his, he tasted the passion she’d tried to keep hidden from him.

  “Success?”

  Zane broke the kiss to find Wyatt watching them from the veranda.

  “I’d say so,” he said, holding her close, hoping their “success” meant more than a well-aimed fireball. “She just blew a bucket to Hell.”

  Wyatt tossed a chunk of chalk to him. “Great. Erik and I are almost finished with the potion—stinks like dead fish. You two go draw the pentagram for our demon.” With a nod to Zane, he turned back toward the house.

  Fallon peered up at him, her demeanor elated yet somehow shy as well. “Where are we going to do this?”

  Slamming into her with her back against his bedroom door sprang to mind, but he shoved the erotic image away for another time. They were about to go to war, and in a few hours, they would be celebrating or dead. His plan was to bring her breakfast in bed tomorrow morning—and every morning after that.

  A quirky smile met her lips, and, for a moment, he wondered if she could read his thoughts. She glanced toward the house, the expression dampening to seriousness.

  “Um, the library?” he suggested. “It’s a big space, lots of room to move around.”

  “Yes, but that’s also where all the books are.” She bit her lower lip. “Too flammable. Too much to lose.”

  “True.” He gazed at the monstrous house. The high sweeping gables, the brick, the heavy wrought iron. He followed the line of the ridgeline to the far end. “What about the conservatory?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Really?”

  “Let’s go look.”

  Taking her hand, he led her into the house and down the long, wide hallway that emptied onto a set of double glass
doors. Entering, they found an expansive area with a tangle of vegetation around the perimeter. The center of the room lay littered with tables and a few broken pots. A metal spiral staircase stood off to one side, leading up to a higher level where trailing plants might have once hung. Around the edges of the room stood several immense Corinthian columns, adding a sense of the Roman Empire’s power to the indoor garden. Had Fallon’s lineage lived in the heart of the known world back then? Had sentinels walked the paved streets and guarded against the evils that threatened humanity under Caesar’s rule? Zane shook his head in wonder.

  “If we clear out these tables, there would be plenty of room to maneuver.” He rubbed his jaw. “Or we might want to set them up as a barricade in the event things go south. Either way, the high ceiling and large concrete floor make for a good arena.”

  “Good gosh,” Fallon said, eyeing him. “An arena? Really? I was hoping this would be more of an ambush rather than gladiators fighting lions.”

  He wished for an overwhelming victory, but since most things in his life hadn’t gone as planned, he needed to prepare for anything and expect the worst. “Well, a few of the windows are broken already from the storm, so there’s no worry over that.”

  “You’re worried about broken glass?”

  He gave her a level stare. “No, Fallon. I’m worried about you.” He grasped her shoulders. “All of us. I’ve faced this thing just like you. I know what Haileon can do, though I’m not sure your brothers get it yet.”

  She glanced toward the door. “They will soon.”

  “True. In the meantime, I’m trying to prepare for anything that will ensure our survival.” He released her and moved to the end of one table. “So let’s get these tables out of the way and draw the pentagram. By the time we’re finished, your brothers will be here to get the rest of this stuff out of the way.”

  Once they’d cleared out an area at the far end of the conservatory, Fallon retrieved the journal from Wyatt and joined Zane in drawing the pentagram on the floor with the chalk her brother had tossed him.

  Tracing out the last curl on the final symbol on the demon trap, he straightened. “Does that look right?”