She rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck, trying to ease out the kinks knotted up from hours spent hunched over the small desk in the guest bedroom suite. She bet Jack could get them out. Her skin tingled, longing for that masterful touch. It wasn’t fair that one so off-limits should feel so damn good. Her single consolation in giving into the erotic insanity was that no one would ever know. Just her. Just Jack. No one else. At least, no one else that mattered. Jack Madden was her dirty little secret, and that somehow made a liaison with him a little more dangerous, and a little more delicious.
The sudden feeling of being watched shook her out of her musings. She tensed and looked around but saw nothing to warrant any worry. Her forearm tattoo started to itch, as if the blade wanted out of her, and out of her now, but there was no enemy afoot, no attacker to slay. She resisted the urge, telling herself she’d only use it when necessary. The blood lust it induced was vivid in her memory, and left a sour taste in her mouth. How did the knights manage to live with that? How would she? Internally she knew it was the right thing she was doing, but to possess such rage, and then to hone it razor-sharp and direct it with will and intent…it was a form of magic in and of itself. A terrifying form.
Bells sounded lightly behind her.
She realized she was still logged onto the regular internet.
Raine shut the balcony doors and ventured over to the computer to see who was IMing her. The sensation of being watched vanished the minute she closed out the night.
The message came from an unfamiliar address: Vargr. She recognized the word immediately: it was the Norse term for an outlaw wolf. One cast out. She would have blocked the message, but she remembered her uncle’s contact would reach out to her via email. She opened the IM.
Vargr: Hugh sends his unsanctioned regards. You want to talk?
Did she ever. Raine sat down and typed, excitement tensing her up even more.
RSpencer: How does magic work?
Vargr: There are many kinds of esoteric energy. Which kind?
Raine cursed her eagerness. She thought about how to better frame the question. Wondered how much she could share and maintain her privacy, yet still get her answers.
RSpencer: What did Hugh tell you?
Vargr: You want to know what’s inside of you. How it works. Why you have it.
She reeled from the comeback. Her pulse picked up. Should she trust this unknown Vargr? Did Hugh really say that much? Did she have a choice if she wanted to really know what was going on inside of her?
RSpencer: I know mystics and mages and sorcerers use esoteric energy, but differently. I know very few mix both. I know too much is dangerous. Like a knight can’t use it because of a soul blade. But I need to know how it all works.
Vargr: How much time do you have?
Raine glanced at the clock then typed back.
RSpencer: About an hour.
Vargr: It takes ages to learn it all.
RSpencer: I’ll have more time later.
Vargr: First, you need to know that esoteric energy, including sorcery, is not evil. Intent shapes energy. Now, tell me the truth. Not just what you told Hugh. Tell me what you left out.
Raine suppressed a shiver. Vargr was uncannily intuitive. There was another part to her question, one she didn’t even want to admit to herself.
RSpencer: Just that. No more.
Another hesitation. Raine held her breath while she waited. There was a brief flash, then the words appeared across the screen.
Vargr: If you want my help, you must give me the truth. All of it. I’ll accept no less.
The hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. Her uncle’s contact sounded just like him. That was a Hugh Spencer line if ever there was. It couldn’t be Hugh masquerading online. Of that she was certain. The response gave her the strangest feeling, though. As if it were her uncle, only different. She dismissed it, and forged on. If it was truth Vargr wanted in exchange for what she needed, so be it. She’d been dealing nonstop for the last twenty-four plus hours, what was one more bargain at this point?
RSpencer: Can someone with this power merge it with the enchantments of a knight, without hastening their own death? And if so, how?
Vargr: Let me ask you this: do you like to gamble?
Yesterday? No. Everything she did, she planned, she managed, she controlled. But today? And every tomorrow to follow?
RSpencer: No, but I can learn.
Vargr: Good spirit. Forget magic for now. Let’s talk odds.
Chapter Twelve
Raine met Jack in his private study, armed with one hour’s tutorial from Vargr, a new outlook on what could lay ahead, and a new plan. One based on testing the odds.
Jack swapped out her beads, and when he did the clasp on this refreshed set, her racing thoughts settled back into a calm state. There was a moment’s hesitation in his fingers as his completed the lock on the beads. He stood behind her, but without seeing, she knew he was tense.
“Something wrong?” she asked. The clasp locked. His fingers fluttered lightly across her skin, sending her pulse skittering.
“How did your research go?” He sidestepped her, and her question, and deposited the old beads in a metallic silver box on the corner of his glass and chrome desk.
“What does Carmot mean to you?”
“The substance of creation,” he said without hesitation, and then launched into a rehash of all she’d covered earlier. His body was relaxed, his face and eyes betraying none of his thoughts. Yet she still thought him tense on some level. Perhaps it was in preparation for the ceremony. She was certainly keyed up. Partly a mix of sexual tension and fantasy. The train ride was so vivid, the ecstatic burn of magic and orgasm worked into a frenzy by him so intense, she doubted she’d forget even after several lifetimes, let alone a small stretch of hours.
Adding to that was the stress of embracing the magic. It was one way to test her own ability, gauge the odds of her success at learning the ropes of magic and mysticism well enough to wield it even as a knight. She had to step into the fire, let it torch her down, if she was to know its make, and learn its secrets. If she was to rise again, and blaze a new path in the rigid chivalric order. The time for sticking her head in the sand about her innate power was long gone, and surprisingly, it was Jack who helped push her to that conclusion. Vargr’s input had only served to give shape to what she needed to do.
“So this stuff, it doesn’t exist anymore that you know of, right?
He gave her a curious look. “Never say never, if you catch my drift. Time has been reinvented so often, who’s to say what does and doesn’t really exist somewhere in this dimension?”
“But the last catastrophe reshaped history and the world. It destroyed Gods and men alike. And if the theories hold true, it wiped out Atlantis and its society.”
“Ruins still exist. So could other things, hidden here and there, in nooks and crannies so far out of reach from the catastrophic event horizon they managed to survive intact. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know.” She remained standing where she was, just over the threshold, afraid to get to close. She wasn’t certain the connection they shared wouldn’t fire off and expose her true intent. And the strange vibe she was picking up from him made her a little cautious. “The word held a certain appeal to me, kind of like when we were searching for the first artifact and information just popped into my head out of nowhere. I thought maybe it might be relevant to our search.”
He shut the lid to the box that held the hematite beads with a quick motion that snapped like lightning. “Practicing magic?”
His words carried the tiniest trace of menace. Or, perhaps it was her imagination at work.
“How can I? You won’t tell me anything about how it works.”
This drew a smile out of him. The warm light of the den played well on Jack, making him look human, appealing, and not at all as dangerous as she knew him to be. “I thought you hated that side of yourself? Wanted it ‘shut off’.
”
She took a few brave steps forward. He would be better as an ally in this newest part of her plan, even if in the end he turned out to be the enemy. “What would really happen to me when they shut me off?”
He looked her up and down, very slowly, as his pupils dilated by a small fraction. Then he leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “You’re smart. Way too smart. You go into the Order, you’ll earn yourself a legion of enemies. They don’t like the rank and file to think too hard on things, if you catch my drift.”
“How dangerous is it to get ‘shut off’?” she persisted, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it from him.
“Didn’t they tell you?” he said. “It’s why I asked that you knew the price going into this mission. I didn’t want you agreeing without knowing the full risk. It’s why I grilled you so hard when we first met.”
Relief flooded her. His words rang true. “Ramon indicated it would be difficult, and that I might need time to recuperate.”
Jack laughed harshly. “That sounds like him. What do you think?”
She recalled Hugh’s words. “I think it’s a kind of truth that winds up being a lie when you look closely.”
“See? Way too smart.” He straightened and inclined his head. Silky hair fell in a silver curtain, shielding half his face, giving him a daring appearance. “Come on, we need to get started. I can answer questions later. Timing is critical. There’s an astro-alignment of Chiron and Pluto that will only last a short time. We need to make the most of the opportunity.”
He disappeared through a narrow door then returned with a bundle of midnight blue silk laid across his arms. “You’ll need to wear a robe. You can keep the beads on but nothing else.”
She took the robe from him, but made no move to put it on. “How risky is a shut-off?”
“Too much on and off risks a meltdown. Of epic proportions. The kind you don’t bounce back from. Ever. My escape with death was narrow, and heavy with divine intervention. Even then it was dicey for a time. I don’t imagine it will go well with you. You’re half-human, and that’s a weakness I didn’t have.”
Truth, without the candy-coat. When Jack dished it out like that, it came on like a killer one-two punch. But the honesty, opposed to his usual smoke and mirrors approach, was refreshing. It confirmed what she’d suspected and learned. “So there’s no going back?”
“Never say never.” He kicked off his expensive loafers. “See you upstairs.”
Raine swallowed hard. No going backwards. No backing out. Time to see how hot the flame inside of her burned, figure out how much power she really had and what that could mean for her future. She shucked her clothes and slipped into the robe, then ventured up to the rooftop, before she could chicken out. The cool silk whispered as she moved. The robe had a few oriental type knot closures on the front, and was split to the hip on either side. Not much to stand between her and Captain Sexy. Her pulse skipped merrily. Fear and regret were in her past, with everything else right now.
Above, Jack waited for her in a garden terrace that was roofed with a complete hexagonal glass dome structure, displaying the full of the night sky. All around were planters filled with thick vegetation. The air was heavily perfumed with the scent of flowers and earth, and completely at odds with the concrete of the city surrounding them. Bronze art-deco torches were the only source of lighting, lending a pagan element to the cultured formal setting.
In the robe it was impossible for him to hide his massive erection. He stood, legs braced wide, arms crossed, unabashedly male and sexually aroused.
“Nice robe.” She took him in, enjoying the feast.
“We’re in a sacred space, about to engage in serious energy work. Removing the mundane helps us to shed barriers to the esoteric energies we seek.” His lips curved in a wry smile. “Technically, we should be nude for maximum effect. I figured you might appreciate a little modesty. The robes have a small enchantment and won’t work against the ritual.”
“What kind of ritual are we doing?”
“We’re going to anoint each other with magic oil, sit inside a charged circle, meditate a bit, raise a shitload of magical energy, and see what pops up. Afterwards, we’re going to wind down in the hot tub.”
“That sounds like the script for a hotel porn movie, not a magical ritual,” she blurted out.
He surprised her with a light laugh, at odds with the serious cast of his cobalt eyes. “The tub water is full of more charged oil designed to take the edge off the magic and ground us. Besides, if I do porn, it’s triple X hot, baby. None of that hotel crap. Full frontal naughty bits all the way.”
“You’ll have to show me sometime.”
“I will,” he said devilishly.
The notion held a strong appeal that generated the telltale warmth of arousal deep inside her core. What was it with this guy? An offhand comment, a peak of skin, a lusty promise, started a blazing wildfire of desire in the immeasurable space of moments. That was way more than chemistry. Maybe way more than magic. And that thought, more than anything, including the end of the dimension, or dancing in the flames of magic, scared the wits out of her. It also sucked her in as if she had no real will to resist.
He stood gazing at her through hooded, mysterious eyes. The lush blue robe suited him, making his hair look like liquid silver and his skin like fine alabaster. She’d never wanted to touch someone so bad in her entire life. She knew he’d feel as soft as the ethereal fabric, and beneath that soft exterior would be the iron-hard play of muscles that cut his fine, masculine body.
“The first anointment.” He held a tiny vial, no bigger than a dime, which he upended over his outstretched palm. Five drops of an earthy, rich oil dispensed onto his fingertips. He set the vial down on a small stone pillar, rubbed his palms together, then stepped forward and laced his fingers through her hair.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sensual experience. His jaw was set, his expression serious now. As he looked down upon her, heat surged between them. She forced herself to breathe while she watched the strong column of his neck and the play of muscles as he moved. His fingers played through her hair, then moved in a massaging motion along the skin of her scalp. Finally, they stroked past her temple, then lightly across her forehead. The fragrance of myrrh and jasmine enveloped her as Jack’s touch fired up every nerve in her body. She wanted to lean into him and drown in all he had to offer. Her heart beat harder as the first of the magical energies began to stir, mixing in with the heady draw of lust.
He withdrew his hands and reached again for the bottle. Then he hesitated.
“What?” she asked, sensing a question in him.
“You want to know more about magic? Seriously? You’re not yanking my chain?”
The moment was on her. Now or never.
“I want you to answer some questions,” she began hesitantly. “So I can understand what’s inside of me.”
The scent of the oil and his proximity, the luscious feel of cool silk sliding against her, riled her up and made it hard to think logically.
“Some questions can’t be answered with regular words. The experience holds the answers. You can only know the fire by walking into the flames. You sure you want all that?”
Exactly what Vargr had said, and no, she wasn’t sure. But she knew she needed it, badly. “I’m sure.”
He studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “Why not? Tomorrow we could be dead. Might as well give it a whirl. Hold out your left hand, palm up.”
She did as he asked, curious to see what he’d do next. There was no denying the thrill of anticipation zinging through her. Or, the small current of fear following in its wake. He dispensed the same amount of oil onto her fingertips, making her skin buzz.
“The left hand is receptive, the right affective. Rub left and right together, spreading the oil evenly across both palms.”
“Okay.” She followed his instructions, mimicking the same movements he’d moments ago displayed. “No
w what?”
He tossed the now empty vial aside. “Now you anoint me. The way I did you. Focus on me, Raine. Nothing else. Open yourself to the energy, of me, of the oil, of the magic.”
His words were a soft, encouraging rumble. She reached out, and as she did, he drew in a sharp, short breath, and closed his eyes. Power radiated from him to her. Or from her to him. She couldn’t tell which really, but it ran strong and true, and she reached further, twining her fingers through the silver silky hair, touching him the way she’d been touched.
His chest flexed, and his body shivered. A masculine sigh escaped his lips. Emboldened, Raine deepened the touch, rounding her palms and letting her thumbs trace the taut skin of his forehead. All thoughts drifted into a freefall as the flames of desire fanned out through her blood. He opened his eyes and stared down at her with raw hunger.
“I want to kiss you right now, but we need to wait. The fun can come later.” He circled her wrists and moved her hands from him in a downward motion. They stood toe-to-toe. He flattened his palms against hers, then his fingers closed with hers in embrace. “This clears the mind of the regular world. To be centered in the flow. When we hit the circle center, we’re going to treat each chakra to another opening. Everything will be ready to receive.”
She nodded, understanding dawning as the power stirred to life inside of her. “What about the beads?”
“They temper the magic. You’re too new to the game to know how to manage that yet. If you decide to take this path, I give you my word to teach you every trick I know.”
“That’s a lot of tricks.”
“I certainly hope so.”
He led her deeper into the garden, until they hit the center, where a small obsidian circle was inlaid on the marble floor, surrounded at five equidistant points by bronze torches placed right on the edge. At the center were two enormous purple plush floor pillows, a low table that could pass for a small step stool, and the canopic jar. Two hip-height pillars marked an entry point: one black and one white. From the black one, Jack took an oval-shaped stone perfume jar, opened it and dipped his index finger into the waxen substance inside.
ImmortalIllusions: The Eternity Covenant Book2 Page 20