Sword of the Raven

by Diana Duncan

  A second sigh. Rowan half turned, lifted his face to the sky. A tremor vibrated through him. “Sòlasaich,” he whispered.

  A blanket of mist floated down, enveloped Archer. He stirred, smiled, and the sun tattoo on his shoulder blade rose and fell with his contented breaths. The mist thickened, cloaking him from view.

  “There you have it. He’s as comfy and protected as a wee bairn rocked in his mum’s arms.”

  Seriously, how do you do that?

  “If you truly wish to know, shut it and let me concentrate on getting you out of here. You must trust me.”

  Arrogant bastard. Like I have a choice?

  Laughter rumbled in his chest. He stopped in front of the elevators to push the button. “Lass, if I wanted to harm you, I’ve had half a dozen opportunities.”

  True. And he had assisted her in the police station, and kept her out of jail afterward. And spared Archer’s life. In spite of everything, totally against all logic, her intuition urged her to trust him.

  Rowan, did Connor’s window break? Is he okay?

  “Nothing happened to his window. His condition is unchanged, and stable.”

  So she had hallucinated the reunion in Hell.

  The elevator bell pinged. “Quiet now.”

  Another tremor rocked Rowan’s big frame. “Fair mo cleòc,” he murmured. As the doors slid open, thick fog swirled, cocooned them. Fog was normally chilly, but this felt warm and secure. Don’t speak until I say we’re clear.

  I can’t talk anyway.

  Common after an initiation quest. Rowan looked down at her, his irises jade ringed by silver. A blessing in disguise, aye?

  If I ever cook for you again, you’d be wise to hire a food taster.

  Another chuckle. The doors trundled shut. Absolute silence. Don’t channel thoughts to me, either.

  Delaney’s vision couldn’t penetrate the veil. Rowan must have been able to see fine, because he didn’t falter. But apparently nobody could see in. They were alone inside a silent white cloud. Not one person challenged them while Rowan brought her down the elevators, carried her through the hospital and then into the parking garage.

  In the parking structure, he paused. The fog billowed out to encompass her GTO, left where Archer had parked it when they’d raced here to see Connor. All right, ‘tis safe to communicate this way.

  I don’t have my purse, or my keys. How are you going to drive? You can drive, right?

  He rolled his eyes. Your car is perfectly safe in my hands, as are you. Your purse was in Connor’s room. ‘Tis locked in the boot. Archer had your keys, which I confiscated.

  Why can’t you just beam us wherever we’re going, Scotty?

  He snorted. Holding her with his left arm, he fished in his pocket for the keys. You must be feeling better.

  Mostly, she was just trying not to freak out or whine like a baby. Not exactly. But I want answers.

  And you’ll get them. Rowan opened the door and settled her into the backseat. Though he’d laid her down, he pulled a seatbelt across her anyway, and buckled it before covering her with his coat. Sympathetic gray eyes assessed her. I’ve been where you are. I know ‘tis not comfortable. The best thing for you is sleep.

  Dozens of questions shrilled in her mind, but she hurt too much. Uncomfortable? The understatement of the millennium.

  I can fix it. Large, capable hands cradled her face.

  She tensed.

  Don’t fight me. When you wake up, you’ll be healed.

  Surrendering control went against every instinct. But she was growing weaker by the moment. Don’t think for a hot second that letting you take over will become a habit.

  I’m not the delusional one here. Now, relax, and let me work.

  Her final sight before she slipped under was green ocean waves filling Rowan’s irises…and his tender smile. Trom-shuain, Delaney. Sleep sweet.

  * * *

  Delaney jerked awake when the car stopped.

  Cold. Hurt.

  Rowan’s coat still blanketed her and heat whooshed from the air vents, but icy pain gripped her in unrelenting claws.

  Rowan had claimed she’d be healed after she slept. Had he lied so she wouldn’t resist when he’d spirited her away? Not that she could’ve. Limbs shaking, teeth chattering, she tried to discern their location. All she saw outside the rear windshield was absolute darkness.

  The door swung wide. Rowan’s blurry face swam into the murky dome light. “Hullo, you’re awake.”

  When she didn’t respond, his eyes narrowed. “Delaney?” The back of his hand tested her cheek, then her forehead. “You’re hypothermic!”

  Spasms twisted her muscles. Don’t! It hurts when you touch me!

  He frowned. “You should be back to normal. I’ve got to get you inside.”

  He lifted her gently, but pain knifed through her. She swallowed a whimper.

  “Hold fast, luv.” His long legs ate up the distance to what she vaguely recognized as Archer’s Cape Hope cabin. He whisked her indoors and lowered her to the sofa, where she lay shaking uncontrollably.

  Rowan tossed a fleece throw over her and squatted to her level. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Fr-freezing. A-agony.

  “I’ve never seen this reaction to a quest before. Was your essence attacked? Did you encounter a malignant spell?”

  D-don’t know w-what you m-mean.

  His frown deepened. “When you were out of body, did you get the sensation of disconnection, anything severing your essence from your body?”

  D-didn’t leave m-my body. Mugged. Dreamed I went w-where everything was b-burnt. Ashes. Monsters.

  “You couldn’t have—” He shook his head. “But you were somehow wounded?”

  Y-yes! Stinger!

  “A stinger?”

  In the n-nightmare, a s-scorpion monster. Stung me. Thigh.

  “Impossible.” Scowling, he rose over her. “Right, let’s have a look at your leg, then.”

  He shoved aside the blanket. Eased off her hiking boots and socks. Gentle fingers unsnapped, unzipped her jeans, and slid them off. But oh, God, she was super-sensitized. The denim scraped like razors shredding her skin. Hurts!

  “Sor—” His gaze locked on her thigh. “Bugger all! Where, how did you tangle with a Fomorian demon?” He scooped her up, jogged to the kitchen, then laid her on the table. “Gotta move fast.” A hiss, then a pop as he lit the gas range.

  Demon? What was he talking about? Her trip to Hell hadn’t actually happened.

  Had it?

  Rowan strode to the sofa. He returned with a pillow, which he settled beneath her head. Left again. Water rushed from the faucet.

  Footsteps. He leaned over her. “The venom has been in your system far too long, and your bloodstream is infected. I can’t risk putting you out again, because I might not be able to bring you back.” His mouth pressed into a grim line. “I have to lance it.”

  She gulped. Lance?

  “‘Tis the only way.” His eyes captured hers. “But I can dull the pain. Look at me.” Green overtook the silver in his irises. He murmured a quiet chant.

  Nothing happened.

  His brows furrowed. “You’re blocking me. Open up, let me in.”

  Trying.

  He bent closer, his sweet breath a whisper against her lips. “Relax. Everything’s all right. I’ll take care of you.” More chanting.

  Still nothing.

  “Delaney, we’re out of options. Just let me take you over.”

  Terror, pain, disbelief, maybe the poison torturing her…whatever the reason, she couldn’t relinquish her will again. C-can’t.

  “This can’t wait.”

  Just g-get it over with.

  “Dammit! If I had more time—” Rowan pivoted to hold something over the burner flame. He tried to hide it, but she saw anyway. A big, black, sharp knife. Her shaking ramped up along with her pulse.

  Lowering the blade out of sight, he swiveled around to her. He slipped the handle of a wood
en spoon between her teeth. “Bite down and inhale a slow, deep breath through your nose.”

  She obeyed.

  “Exhale hard. Good. Another, Delaney. And once more.”

  On her third exhale, one sure hand vice-clamped her thigh, and the other unhesitatingly sliced her open.

  Acid seared her leg, screamed up her entire right side. Her spine bowed off the table, a shriek boiling in her throat.

  “Sorry. Jesus, I’m so sorry, luv.”

  Everything went dark.

  When Delaney’s eyelids drifted up, she was still trembling in shock, and Rowan was carrying her into the bathroom. He must have removed her filthy sweater, because she was in her bra and panties. He glanced down, sweat beading his forehead and upper lip, concern shadowing his irises. “There’s my lass. Stay with me, now.”

  Not. Going. Her mental reply was weak, but resolute. Anywhere.

  “Feckin’ amen to that.” He growled something unintelligible. The overhead light and wall heater glowed on. The old-fashioned claw-footed tub drain snapped closed at the same time the window casing flew up.

  Another snarled command. A pause…and then a narrow green-blue cascade of Pacific Ocean streamed through the open window and crashed into the huge tub.

  She blinked. This was new.

  Rowan spoke again. The window slammed shut. Steam began to skate over the water’s surface. She was jostled a bit as he toed off his boots, then he stepped into the tub fully clothed and sank down into the bath with her. Sitting behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and leaned back, immersing Delaney neck-deep in blissfully hot water.

  Was she imagining it, or was he also trembling?

  Crooning softly, he glided his palms down her arms.

  Ordinarily, close physical contact with a man—especially a near stranger—would roil her stomach and knot her muscles. But like before, peaceful lassitude enveloped her. She didn’t feel threatened in Rowan’s embrace. She felt safe.

  Divine Powers at work?

  Warm yellow light glowed from old-fashioned wall sconces on either side of the mirrored medicine cabinet and gilded the black and white tiled floor and sand-colored walls. Seawater lapped comfortingly over her skin. Eventually, her chills vanished. The agony in her leg eased. She sighed.

  “Doing better now, are you?” Rowan’s low brogue tickled her ear.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Nice to…” He cleared huskiness from his voice. “…hear you say it.”

  “Hey!” She sounded croaky, but who cared? “I can talk again!”

  “Praise the saints. I mourned the quiet,” he teased. “Seawater is anti-Fomorian venom, ‘tis drawing out and neutralizing the poison.”

  She couldn’t refute what she’d seen on that rooftop with her own eyes. If she accepted the reality of angels—and tonight’s events had pretty much proven they existed—then believing in demons followed suit. Atrocities didn’t happen at random, something bad had to cause them. “I…I wasn’t mugged? I somehow traveled into Hell?”

  “You were not mugged, and you were not in Hell. I think you stumbled into the Abyss. The Fomorii are one particular demon lord’s favored soldiers and our clans’ fiercest enemies. Their demon lord rules the Abyss. But I still don’t see how—”

  “What’s the Abyss?”

  “A sort of purgatory between realms.”

  She was coming to terms with the whole “parallel plane” concept, but didn’t feel quite strong enough yet for an in-depth discussion about killer demons. She closed her eyes and let her pain and anxiety wash away. “Awesome bag of party tricks you guys have. You called Archer ‘Guardian.’ Is he my guardian angel?”

  “Do yourself a favor, lass. Don’t use the ‘A’ word around your friend. He gets fair hacked off about it,” he warned. “Guardians are another specific race of beings.”

  “They aren’t angels?”

  “Nay. And not all of them have wings.”

  “Do you?”

  He grunted in derision. “Shite, no. Enforcers don’t need them.”

  “Enforcer….you’re not an angel, either? What are you, Rowan?”

  “I am a Shining One. A Tuatha Dé Danann Mage.”

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “We don’t exactly advertise our services.” A smile lightened his tone. “The Tuatha Dé Danann are an ancient Celtic race that draws Power from natural resources within the universe. I’m a water Mage. And as an Enforcer, I hunt those who misuse the Powers.”

  She stiffened. “Connor and I— we made something weird happen at the prison. Are you after him…or me?”

  “Easy, Delaney. I’m Oathed to do battle for the Light. I have no terminate order for either of you.”

  “A Mage. With a sword of ice. And...Powers. Okaaay. I suppose it’s as feasible as you and Archer being angels. Probably more, considering the way the two of you behave. Are Mages human?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What exactly—” Long, agile fingers kneaded her aching neck muscles, and she went boneless. “Ohhhh…”

  “You’re knackered, lass. You must rest and recover. You danced closer with the Grim Reaper today than you realize. If that venom had been injected, you wouldn’t have lived long enough for me to treat your wound. Plenty of time for twenty questions later.”

  She was exhausted. Yawning, she rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder. He was strong, solid, reassuring behind her.

  They lingered in the tub. The Mage definitely had magic hands. His exquisite massage of her neck and shoulders left her limp and moaning with satisfaction.

  She sank lower. Her chin dipped into hot water, still at the perfect temperature, and she shifted on Rowan’s lap. She might not have vast experience, but she wasn’t ignorant. Or dead, thanks to the man—Mage—who’d obviously begun to enjoy holding her half-naked in his arms. A lot.

  Superpowers weren’t his only assets.

  “We should get up…uh…out.” She sat upright, and the room whirled around her.

  “It’s been barely over an hour. You need more—”

  “I need to get out. Now. I’ve had plenty.”

  When he raised her thigh from the water to examine it, she averted her gaze from the wound. “Looks clean enough. When you dry, it’ll seal. But no stress on this leg.” Lifting her in his arms as easily as if she weighed nothing, he stood and stepped dripping from the tub.

  Cooler air blasted her. She shivered, goosebumps prickling her chilled skin.

  “You’ll be sensitized to cold for a wee bit.” He spoke another strange word as he turned toward the door, and every drop of liquid on their bodies and clothing instantly evaporated…leaving them both bone dry.

  Her startled glance flew to his. “What other surprises are in your repertoire?”

  “Along with other skills—” One cocky brow arched as the door swung open by itself. “I have total command of water—in every form. Over all liquids.” He chuckled. “Including the ditch water you so eloquently told me to ‘go suck.’”

  “Total command…over all forms of liquid?”

  “Aye.”

  “I studied anatomy with Vanessa, and a human body is comprised of sixty percent H2O, the brain seventy percent. Since people are mostly water, does that mean you can affect their inner thoughts and…sensations?”

  He strode down the hallway. “That I can.” A slow, sexy grin curved his full lips.

  She might be cool on the outside, but sudden warmth pulsed through her veins.

  Wait a minute. Brake the runaway hormone truck. “So when I mentally messaged you for help at the police station, and Zack and Jason suddenly needed a drink of water…that was you?”

  “‘Twas, indeed.”

  “And you made Zack drop the charges? Made me go to sleep at Archer’s?”

  “Aye.”

  “You have the ability to force people to do things? Make them think whatever you want?” She slugged his rock-hard shoulder, only hurting her hand. �
��Asshat! You Darth Vadered me!”

  He looked offended. “I did not. Only Dark entities use Dark Power. I didn’t mind trick you into anything.”

  “You made me get into Archer’s bed.”

  “Because you were already exhausted and amenable to the suggestion. You needed to sleep. Walker and Kim were thirsty, and Walker truly did not wish to lock you up. I subtly influenced everyone toward a particular direction they already wanted to go.”

  Her index finger drilled into his breastbone. “Don’t ever ‘influence’ me against my will again, MacLachlan. Or I will load your balls into my Cuisinart and press ‘chop.’”

  Rowan smirked. “Good luck persuading you to do anything you refuse. You’re tough to sway.” He shot her an enigmatic look. His thought was so muffled she nearly missed it. You’re the one exception I’ve encountered. You can sense my intrusions. And block me.

  I caught that.

  With a curse, he carried her into the bedroom. You’re going to be a challenge, Delaney Morgan.

  She grinned as she answered with the same method. I wouldn’t want to be easy.

  No one could accuse you there, lass. The bedcovers flipped back without him touching them, and Rowan laid her on cold, crisp sheets. He sighed. Anything but.

  Shivering again, she watched those warrior’s hands tenderly tucking blankets around her. Rowan? Because the human brain is seventy percent water, is that also what makes you telepathic?

  Another unreadable look. I don’t exhibit telepathic ability with anyone else. Only you.

  Okay, that was more than a little bit spooky.

  “You’ve been Gifted, too, lass.”

  “I’m not telepathic either. Usually.”

  “Nay, but you have other Powers. I was sent to be your mentor, to teach you to control and wield them.”

  Something frightening had happened to those prison guards when she’d gotten upset. Delaney pondered the information as he stacked crumpled newspaper and logs in the hearth. Electricity was a modern addition to the cabin, along with Archer’s decadent slate and glass shower enclosure in the bathroom—and both the living area and bedroom boasted generous stone fireplaces.