Into The Spirit

by Marie Harte

  Red tipped her vision at the thought. Anger, she realised. Well, yeah, anger. What if he had simply just been horny and she’d been there, a woman, alone with a man?

  But the sound of his voice saying her name, the way he’d looked at her, made her anger sizzle out. He’d not do that. Aeros was strong, a man filled with integrity and, above all, honour. Even if he misplaced some of that on a narcissistic god, Aeros wouldn’t play with her. So that meant…he had wanted her. He wouldn’t lie. She couldn’t image Aeros ever speaking an untruth. He’d wanted her—her, Tabithia, since the first day he’d met her. That night at the pub, he’d seemed off—intense and focused solely on her. Had that been him wanting her?

  She gathered her courage and chanced a look at him. The depth of emotion in his eyes floored her. He looked like a man who’d had a taste of something he wanted more of—a man who’d not wait much longer to get more of it.

  Holy shit. Holy. Shit. What have I done?

  Turning away, heart in her throat, she stumbled. Focus, Tabithia, focus. They grew nearer to Dare’s hiding place with every step. Soon enough she’d have to make decisions that would end this experience with Aeros. If she knew one thing about the Spartan, he wouldn’t take betrayal lightly.

  Well, I’ve finally found a guy who interests me enough to ask him if I can tie him up and have my way with him, or have him tie me up, but guess what? I have to betray him.

  Chapter Ten

  Travelling underground wasn’t as much fun as Tabithia would have thought. Not that she’d ever thought it would be fun, but still, the dark, smelly air had her dying to be outside for some serious light and fresh air. She had always lived for the dark. That was before. Now she yearned for the heat of the sun on her face.

  So far, they’d been down under for about eighteen hours. The hike hadn’t been so bad. Actually, the steamy cave system wasn’t really a cave, but an underground waterway. Some parts were dry and full of jagged rocks and sand, while others had low pools of stagnant, bug-infested water. Freakin’ brilliant!

  After the rock and roll with Aeros she already felt covered in muck. Now she was sweaty, and she was wet in areas she normally wasn’t. All in all, she felt dirty and needed a shower more than anything else—including her knife.

  They’d run into a few spots where fresh water bubbled up, but nothing she’d chance drinking—certainly nothing to wash in. And she needed to wash—desperately. Knowing Aeros was behind her, staring at her, examining her when she felt so disgustingly dirty had her in a near panic. She’d almost walked into three traps so far simply because she’d been too preoccupied with replaying their kisses.

  Dare had been silent. Tabithia sensed she’d laid her traps, but she couldn’t sense more than that. She felt no build-up of energy floating along the cave system signifying a new spell. Oddly enough, she felt as if Dare had vanished. Oh, the chalice still lingered ahead of them, the traps were there, but the signature of the witch was no longer visible. Maybe Dare napped. Who knew? All she knew was it was a good thing the crafty witch wasn’t up and spelling. Already, Tabithia could feel the slow burn that signalled the depletion of her strength. Soon they’d have to stop.

  Fingering her medallion, she chanced a glance back at Aeros. Black hair damp with sweat and his golden skin looking dusky, he caught her eye immediately. He looked tense, concerned. He’d asked her several times if they shouldn’t halt for the night. It must be past midnight, but she was still hesitant to quit.

  Quitting meant resting. Resting meant dreams. Dreams meant pain. Pain she usually woke to alone. Usually? Always woke to alone. As soon as she’d reached her maturity, fifty-five years according to her coven, she’d booked into her own pad. Too many nights of waking the coven with her screams had made living among others unappealing.

  “We need to rest, Tabithia. This magic, it will not attack us if we halt?”

  She paused at the sound of his voice. The tingle of remembered pleasure swept through her. She stilled it, hiding it deep before turning to face him. His eyebrows slashed down, concern evident on his strong, handsome face. His muscles looked tense under his T-shirt. He really did look edible in his combat gear.

  “Well, no. Not if I cast spells to guard us.” She left off the ‘duh’ from her answer because, true to his word, he had not ordered her. He had even phrased his words with care, adding on a murmured please once or twice, too.

  Frowning harder, if possible, he nodded. “This will not harm you?” Dark eyes caught and held hers. If he wasn’t a Spartan, she’d have considered the possibility that he might be a mage undercover. His look nearly had her spilling the truth. Something she didn’t do very often, if at all.

  Now she stood straighter and looked him in the eye. No one should ever sense a witch’s weakness. Bluff if nothing else, but don’t show the stronger, impossibly stronger immortal breeds any limitation to your power.

  “No. Weren’t you on board when I parted the seas, big guy?”

  Someone covered a snort, while another of the boys outright barked a laugh.

  Men.

  Aeros simply looked more concerned. “Yes, I was. It must have taken a great deal of your strength.”

  “Not even a shot glass full.”

  “Shot glass?”

  “Yeah, you know? Tequila? Jack?” His frown grew. She smiled. “Okay, never mind. This will do. You all set up camp. I’ll set up protecting it. Don’t leave the markers I place. If you do, I’m not fetching you.”

  And while she set the boundaries? She’d add a little one for herself—soundproof—brilliant. She really needed a raise after this trip, seriously. Humming softly, she set off, trying not to pay attention to how Aeros stared after her.

  She could feel his eyes like a caress.

  When she’d first been rescued by her aunts, she’d woken them every night, and every night she’d awoken to them caressing her forehead, brushing kisses on her chilled flesh. Their touch had soothed and pained her at the same time. But the way Aeros regarded her, as if she was something special he couldn’t seem to stop looking at, that look brought warmth and something more.

  The something more had her on edge.

  Her aunts weren’t answering her calls. Trouble hadn’t responded to her text. Trouble always answered her. Something had to be wrong, very wrong. That little titbit had her even more on edge. Sorcha was harder to pin down because everyone called her for help. But even she typically responded. Not this time. It was like being thrown to the wolves without any idea where the furry things were or how to keep them from her throat. Alone.

  She needed to get some clarity. And, for her, clarity meant either her aunts, a bottle of Jack, or something with a bit more bite.

  Pressure. She handled it so well as long as she had her knife. She needed her knife.

  Taking a deep breath, she began her protection spells to keep Dare and her trap spells out, even though the other witch had been silent for some time now. Yeah, heck, add that to the list of worries. She was practically passing Sorcha for getting way too involved in other people’s lives.

  Reaching a dark, smaller opening in the tunnel, she paused and probed for any action on Dare’s part and felt none. A witch, from the time of the Picts, alive with three Greek gods after her—or Roman? She’d not asked that…but weren’t they the same, after all? Whatever, the woman was amazing. But if the Three had deserted her, then could Tabithia aid her?

  And why not? Are you not one of our best warriors?

  The holy-shit moment hit at the same time that a brilliant light flooded the slight trail. The cave smell disappeared, and the soft green glow of the sun shining through the branches of trees had her catching her breath. Fragrant scents of forest surrounded her. Sunlight kissed her cheeks, and three people stood before her.

  One, the mother of all, stood tall and serene, her mantle dark blue with vines and flowers running around the hem and up the sides of her midnight-blue gown. The only sign of age she displayed was the brilliant white streak
that shot through her dark red hair. Not a single wrinkle marred her ageless face, but her eyes were ancient, deep, deadly pools of green. A crow sat on her shoulder, its beady eyes watching Tabithia almost greedily.

  Next to her stood the warrior, Bridget, with her golden spear in her fist, the sharp metal forged with swirls and knots etched along the tip to the long end she rested on the ground. A quiver of arrows also peeked out behind her left shoulder where she’d drawn her strawberry blonde braid off to one side. Dressed in leather breeches and a vest of darkest green, she looked like a shield maiden. Blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked and tall, she was the image of confidence.

  Standing on the opposite side of the elder stood a child, merely ten or eleven, red hair so light it appeared blonde in places. Her blue-green eyes shone bright and curious, but like those of the goddess to her right, they were ancient. In her hands she held a silver goblet and beneath her feet clover and small purple flowers blossomed.

  Tabithia considered kneeling but, since she was already standing with her mouth gaping open, she thought closing it would be the best thing to do. Before she fell down, that was. The Three. All three faces of her goddess. Here. Now.

  “Ha, you look more like a scared rabbit to me.” Bridget tilted her head to the side, and her brow furrowed.

  Scared? She was petrified. Kneeling was looking better and better.

  “We don’t demand such worship from our daughters.” The Crone pushed her mantle aside over one shoulder and lifted the bird up above her before releasing it to fly into the low-hanging branches of the ancient oak trees. “Did you think we would desert you when the most important event of your existence unfolds before you now?”

  Bridget snorted. “Not the most important, but you have to get your act together, and this man? The Greek?” Throwing her braid over her shoulder, the goddess gave Tabithia a level look. “He’s going to jump-start that act for you.”

  Jump-start her act? Holy moley, she’d just got dating advice from her favourite goddess and wasn’t at all clear on what she’d been told to do.

  The eldest sighed heavily and frowned at Bridget. “Enough. Your use of this age’s phrases hurts my ears. She is doing her best. Listen to me, child, this is yours.” She raised her slender arm and indicated the forest around them. “Your strength. Of all your sisters, you gain your power from this world. With it, you can defeat even the gods.”

  “And yet you seek to prove yourself in battle by using your blades?” Bridget interrupted, as if they’d argued about her before. It was disturbing on several layers.

  Bridget took a step closer, her beautiful face serious. “I am one of three, and your favourite goddess, I know, but you are not using all three of your gifts. You have all three of us flowing through you. You must learn to harness this power, use it, and let it use you if you are going to survive.”

  Survive? “What do you mean? Survive what?”

  Tsking, the eldest, goddess of wisdom, swung her arm to indicate the forests. “This is your field of battle, aye, we accept your strength, how you have honed all your skills, both your magic and your prowess with your blades, but this, these lands, this is your power. Ravensong. Nature.”

  Bridget nodded in agreement. “Use it and your will shall never be broken again.” Eyeing Tabithia up and down, she said, “Freedom is yours if you wish it.”

  Tabithia blinked but stammered out a question. “And this man, Aeros, he will…”

  “Be your salvation.” The eldest nodded. “If you can trust him.”

  Okay, this was not fun. “Okay, and how’s that? Is he the one? The one destined to rule me?”

  Laughing, Bridget shook her head in dismay. “Rule you? Who’s been dishing out the orders? Do you think we’d set you up for that? Look at us. Do we look like we let men rule us?”

  Watching the three women, or goddesses, she had to wonder. She hadn’t always been the best at her worship.

  “Please, we don’t need your worship. We need your strength, your belief. You are ours. We gain our strength through yours.” Bridget fingered her spear, adding, “Some of it.”

  “Does that mean you let Dare be taken by the Greeks on purpose?”

  “Time will show she has the strength to fight for what she believes in.” The eldest sniffed at Bridget’s sceptical look. “Bridget. Be kind. Her family has always given. This should be a time of celebration.”

  “When the Three are on their paths, then we will celebrate.” The child of the Three spoke for the first time. Tears shone in her brilliant eyes as she approached. Flowers bloomed under her feet as she walked, leaving behind a trail of soft periwinkle blue and lavender. The closer she came, the more power washed over her. “We have sorrowed for you. You must not let the evil win this battle. You are needed. All of you are needed. A battle approaches. One that will threaten the very fibre of our worlds. Yours as well as ours.”

  “Ah, such drama. And they said we were bad.” Whirling around, Tabithia froze in place. A beautiful woman dressed in an ancient Greek costume, complete with golden girdle and bright golden bow, stood not far from them, her arms crossed and two fawns at her sandalled feet.

  The woman certainly liked her gold. Even her dark auburn hair was threaded with golden leaves and veins.

  “Who invited you? This child is ours, not the business of your kind.”

  “When you discuss one of my own, why wouldn’t I be here?”

  When Tabithia would have said something, the smallest goddess took her hand. The contact filled her with such comfort that tears threatened. Her throat tightened painfully, making her feel like shards of glass lodged in her throat when she swallowed.

  “Enough. We cannot heal her, only the chosen one can,” the eldest admonished the youngest. The child released her hand and smiled up at her.

  The eldest turned to the intruder and gathered her arms across her chest. She looked like Sorcha confronting a witchling who’d broken into her gardens and eaten all her strawberries.

  “Explain your presence, Artemis.”

  Artemis? “Oh, shit,” Tabithia muttered. Wait, Ares was Aeros’ god, wasn’t he? Why had she called Aeros her own? Or did she mean Ares?

  “I am not Aeros’ god, true, witch, but he means a great deal to me.” Almost pouting, the Greek goddess murmured, “A great deal.”

  All three of the Celts looked disapproving.

  “I, too, am the goddess of nature, ladies, let’s not forget it.”

  Bridget strode forward until the two goddesses were mere feet apart. Tabithia so didn’t want to see the fireworks when those two tussled.

  “Like we ever could. But this is our forest, full of our magic. We allow you here, Greek, do not forget it. Yours is soon to be ours.”

  Lightning flashed, hitting the ground inches from where Tabithia and the child stood. The force of it tingled up the soles of her feet and her hair tingled on top of her head.

  Artemis narrowed her eyes and hissed. “Never!”

  Wind blew then, hard and swift. The very air shivered. The trees creaked and cracked so loudly the sound was deafening. Animals called, birds screamed, and the fawns took off, leaving the Greek in the midst of the sudden storm and three angry goddesses.

  Behind her and next to her, her goddesses grew until their brilliance outshone the memory of the sun. Clouds darkened and swept down, creating a ceiling of dark menace at their backs. Eyes brilliant, the Three stood with a flock of crows swooping down amongst them.

  A blast of light had Tabithia squeezing her eyes shut. The sound faded to a whisper, then disappeared. She opened her eyes. Darkness surrounded her. The stench of underground filled her nose. Her legs gave out, and she hit the ground. Somehow, she still sensed someone else, even when blackness swooped down on her. She thought she heard cursing in a familiar deep voice an instant before warmth surrounded her.

  This time, the sensation of glass slicing her throat hurt too much to hold back the heat of tears.

  On his knees in the dirt of the cave, Aero
s held Tabithia close to his chest. He wasn’t certain what had just happened, but after holding her in his arms, he had a feeling he was never going to be the same again.

  She was so small. Her delicate frame curled up to his and he swore she murmured his name into his chest where she nuzzled her face against his heart. A shiver raced down his spine. She felt right in his arms. He felt right with her there—whole.

  When he looked down, he spotted moisture on her pale cheek. Tears?

  Couldn’t be. It must be sweat because if ever a woman was tougher than nails, it was this one. If he ever saw her cry tears of sorrow, he’d not be able to live with it, he was certain. Gently, he brushed the wetness aside with a thumb and marvelled at how smooth and silky her skin felt against his battle-hardened fingers. Careful of her, he lifted her closer, and stood with her cradled in his arms. A puff of her warm breath hit his skin and inside his chest he felt something ease. He didn’t know what the hell it was, but one thing became crystal clear. She fit him.

  He knew practically nothing about her. But she fit him. Satisfaction flooded his system from simply holding her. What the hell would happen if he ever kissed her again? She murmured and sighed against his neck and he knew right then and there, he’d carry her every time he got the chance.

  Before he could stop himself he bent his head and pressed a kiss to the warm spot on her neck behind her ear. Her hair smelt sweet and felt like silk against his face. She breathed out against his neck again, and his body fired up in ways he knew she wasn’t ready for, especially since she was unconscious.

  Unconscious. Why was she unconscious? He pulled her closer and set off, the rightness of her in his arms dwindling. He’d not heard an attack. Would he, though? A spell could harm her silently and he’d never have heard a thing. What if some spell had done this to her? Even now, in his arms she could be battling something he couldn’t sense or see.

  Tension racked his muscles and his stomach tightened to steel. A threat to her had him ready for battle, but against what enemy?

  For the first time in his existence, he felt helpless. He needed to protect her. Every muscle in his body grew tense until he felt like she’d strung him up on a rack. Never before had the need to protect another been so great. Never. Not for Ares. Not for his beloved Spartans. Not even for the young boy he’d once been, alone and starving in the practice arena. The adrenaline raced through his veins at a rate he knew would keep him ready for battle for days. But what battle?