Visions of Skyfire

by Regan Hastings

  He showed her how to fight—with knife, gun and fist—to win her those few moments. All she had to do, he told her, was to stay alive until he could get to her. Then he’d kill anything that threatened her.

  She believed him. Trusted him. He saw it in her eyes.

  And he was humbled by it.

  The effects of the Mating were racing through them, wrapping the two of them together with mystical bonds that went soul deep. Every time their bodies became one, Rune felt those silken threads winding more inextricably around them. He felt the tattoo in a nearconstant burn on his flesh and knew she felt the same. The branding mark was growing rapidly now, curling under his arm to climb up his back, and there was nothing he enjoyed more than tracing her matching tattoo with his tongue.

  But there was time to practice honing Teresa’s magic as well. Rune had watched her come to grips with the incredible power inside her. Admiration filled him as he saw her work to exhaustion in an effort to remember who and what she had been. To open the memories locked within her mind. To find what they both needed to end this quest.

  And as his admiration grew, so did his hunger for her. It was as if that desperate, clawing need for her had a life of its own. She moved and he wanted her. She spoke and he felt her voice slide inside him. She laughed and his unbeating heart clenched in his chest. She was so much more than she had once been, he told himself daily. Her soul and mind and heart had grown through her many incarnations.

  He had seen that growth personally as he followed her through time, always near, yet never close enough. He’d felt her change, felt her progress toward the witch she needed to be—and still, that silent, doubting part of him remained.

  She was throwing herself into the quest—he could admit that, but the uncertainty remained with him. He looked at her and wanted to see only the woman she was now. But other images flashed across his mind. Other faces, other times—all her. And in each of them she had turned away at the last moment. Stepped back from him when she should have believed in him.

  And so now he was the one to step back. Rune wondered if they would ever truly mate if they were separated by centuries of mistrust.

  So which of them, he was forced to ask himself, needed to get beyond the past? Which of them was clinging to a world that had died out centuries ago? Holding on to betrayal and pain as a way to keep a risky future at bay?

  Gritting his teeth, Rune pushed that thought aside. He had reasons for feeling as he did, damn it. The fact that Teresa was becoming more and more a part of him only fed the doubts. He’d allowed her too deeply inside him once before and then the gates of hell had swung wide and he’d been left holding the proverbial bag. Damned if he’d do that again.

  So he trained her, worked with her, encouraged her and had sex with her at every opportunity.

  But he still didn’t trust her.

  On the evening of the sixth day of their trip, Rune made camp alongside a roaring river. Trees overhung the campsite, partially hiding the small campfire he allowed them, and dissipating the smoke. It was warmer here, too, as they moved away from the cooler desert into the more humid jungle terrain.

  He knew they were close to the Sanctuary, but he also knew he wouldn’t be taking Teresa there directly. He remembered all too well his reception at the Sanctuary in the Uinta Mountains of Utah. He had taken three human females there for safety and had practically had to fight his way past a phalanx of guardian witches to gain entry.

  Had to admire a woman who was willing to stand up and spit in her enemy’s eye, he told himself. But whether it would be safer for them to go or not, they really didn’t have the time. As it was, nearly two weeks of their thirty days were up and they were no closer to discovering the whereabouts of Teresa’s share of the Artifact.

  Not for lack of trying, though, he admitted solemnly. Teresa’s magic was blossoming. He could see it, literally, etching itself into her marrow and bone. In the way she held herself, in the more defiant tip of her chin and, most especially, in the cool glint of determination in her eyes.

  Now, though, he glanced at her in the snapping firelight and saw her yawn. This constant travel was wearing on her. Even though their combined strength was growing, she was still human and being on the run was taking a toll.

  Even her idiot bird wasn’t making her smile tonight. It bobbed up and down on a narrow tree limb, shrieking and whistling, but Teresa paid no attention. Rune frowned at the brightly colored creature. Every day the bird flew off on its own and hours later it would return. He kept waiting, hoping the damn thing would run into a hawk or some other wild animal, but it seemed to have an inordinate lucky streak when it came to survival.

  As if sensing Rune’s thoughts, the bird bristled, ruffling its feathers before hopping up and taking to the air. It banked and wheeled overhead for a minute or two, then streaked off into the night.

  “Where the hell does it go?” he murmured.

  “Maybe he has a girlfriend,” Teresa mused, rummaging in the duffel bag that held their dwindling store of supplies.

  Eager to forget all about the bird now that it was gone, Rune asked, “How are the supplies holding out?”

  “Really well if we’re not very hungry,” she told him with a shrug. “We’ve got enough for tonight and maybe tomorrow. Then we’ll need to hit another village.”

  He didn’t like it. Didn’t like taking her into rural towns and villages with him, but couldn’t really convince himself to leave her alone while he went. He did a slow turn now, letting his sharp eyes scan their surroundings. While the firelight played and danced behind him, he stared into the shadows. At the clumps of trees, the high grasses, the rocks along the river rushing past them. Anywhere an enemy might hide.

  Uneasy, he felt a prickling awareness sliding along his spine. Something was out there. He was sure of it. Felt it down to his bones. His protective instincts stirred. He could grab Teresa and flash out—or, he told himself, he could make a stand and get rid of whoever was following them here and now.

  Dropping to one knee in the sand, he caught Teresa’s eyes across the fire. “I’m going to make a sweep,” he said, voice low. “Make sure we’re alone out here.”

  “Why? Did you see something?” she asked, fear overshadowing the fatigue in her voice.

  He shot another look over his shoulder at the lush vegetation beyond their campsite.

  “No,” he assured her, despite the fact that every finetuned sense he possessed was tingling. There was definitely something out there. Somewhere. No point in scaring Teresa, though, he told himself. “I just want to check. Do you have your knife?”

  She reached into the pocket of the dark blue jean jacket Rune had helped her manifest. For a moment, he remembered her pride, delight shining in her eyes when he showed her how to use her magic to conjure what clothing she needed.

  God, was that only a few nights ago? Time with Teresa was ticking past in a frenzy, stealing his breath, niggling at his mind. A constant reminder that their task was unfinished and that there were those out there willing to do anything to see that it remained that way.

  Teresa pulled out the knife he’d given her. “I have it.”

  Firelight played on her features, in her dark, sober eyes. It danced along the blade of the knife she now held with confidence after their intense training sessions. And still he hated to see her with the thing. Hated to think of her having to defend herself without him at her side.

  “You won’t need it,” he told her and meant every word. He wouldn’t be so far away that he couldn’t flash back to her in an instant. Nothing was going to happen to his witch. “But it’s a good idea to keep it close.”

  “I will.” Nodding, she then lifted one hand and let sparks fly, shooting up from her fingertips like blue and white showers off a sparkler. “And I’ve got my powers, too. I’m fine, Rune. Go. Check.”

  He didn’t like leaving her, but better he find whoever was hunting them and take care of it away from her. And the longer he delayed i
n leaving, the harder it would be. It stunned him to realize just how vital she had become to him in these two weeks. She was more than his mate. She was the very air he breathed.

  That realization hit him like a fist in the gut and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it. He knew damn well he was still dealing with ancient crap when it came to his feelings for her. But the bottom line was, she was his.

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  As much as he wanted to stay next to her, he could better protect her by locating the threat and eliminating it. Before he could talk himself out of it, Rune called on the fire. He looked down at her through the inferno covering his body, then bowed his head and flashed out.

  Chapter 43

  He reappeared a couple of hundred yards away from their campsite. Far enough to get a bead on their surroundings without being distracted by the scent and sound of his woman.

  The flames covering his body winked out in an instant and he was enveloped by the darkness. Perfectly still, he barely breathed as he listened to the night sounds. The wind sighing through the trees and grass, the soft rustle of an animal slinking through the undergrowth, the sigh of the river. The constant buzz and click of the bugs made for a sort of odd symphony and from a distance came the yowling growl of a panther. Overhead, through the thick branches of trees, he saw the moon shining fitfully as it dove in and out of clouds that washed across the starry sky. He turned and could see just the barest hint of Teresa’s campfire, looking like no more than the tip of a fallen star in the blackness.

  His mind filled with her, he cursed silently and refocused his concentration on his surroundings, searching for the source of his unease.

  Then he found it.

  Dropping into a crouch, he pulled his knife free of its sheath and spun around with a snarl. Every muscle coiled, every cell on alert, his gray eyes narrowed dangerously, Rune muttered, “Come forward and die.”

  “Nice moves, man,” a familiar voice answered lazily. “Thought for a minute you were going to let me get the drop on you.”

  “Finn.” Rune muttered his friend’s name and straightened. His muscles remained taut with tension, though. Why was Finn out here? He was supposed to be in the States, watching over his witch. Since he clearly wasn’t … could that mean that Finn was the one responsible for Elena’s murder?

  That thought tore at him. Hell, he didn’t want to think any of his Eternal brothers would turn their backs on their duty and honor. But finding that Finn had turned would be an especially hard thing to bear. The Eternal had always been one of their strongest, fiercest warriors. Driven by his own personal sense of honor, he was the one most of them called on for backup whenever it was needed.

  To lose Finn? Unthinkable. But Rune couldn’t risk Teresa’s safety, so until he knew for sure one way or the other, he would watch his own back and keep his fellow Eternal far from Teresa.

  Finn walked in slowly from the darkness of the surrounding jungle, as if a shadow had come to life. Dressed in black head to toe, he blended with the night so thoroughly that he seemed a part of it. He wore his black hair cut military short and he had enough weaponry strapped to his chest and thighs to outfit a small militia.

  Despite Rune’s doubts, he was glad to see his friend again. It had been more than a year since the last time they’d worked together, to free witches from an internment camp in Joliet, Illinois.

  “You son of a bitch, what’re you doing here?”

  Finn ran the flat of his hand over his brush cut, then shrugged. “Talked to Torin. He says there might be trouble out here. Eternal type of trouble. Hopped in my Gulfstream and here I am.”

  Rune chuckled in spite of the situation. Nothing Finn liked better than taking up his newest toy, the Gulfstream business jet. He’d even built a runway of sorts near the cave Rune and Teresa had stayed in. The nearly forty-million-dollar price tag hadn’t slowed him down a bit, either. Money wasn’t a problem for any of the Eternals. And for Finn, cash just made it easier to indulge his passions. He enjoyed flying as much as he relished a good fight, which was saying something.

  “So,” Finn said softly, “you want to tell me about this? When I spoke to Torin he said you were going to call. Put me on this search. You never did. So what’s going on?”

  “Yeah, I should have called. Got busy,” Rune admitted on a grunt of self-disgust. He’d been so wrapped up in Teresa and the Mating, he hadn’t made that phone call.

  Finn grinned. “So your witch is keeping you busy, huh?”

  “You could say that.” Rune shook his head and looked out over the surrounding jungle again, though he deliberately kept his gaze from the direction of his and Teresa’s camp. No need to point it out to Finn—just in case. He could only hope the other Eternal wouldn’t notice the spot of brightness in the black. “What about you? Why’re you here? Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on your mate?”

  “My witch has got a couple weeks before anything happens. The magics are rippling around her, so I know it’s almost time,” Finn admitted grimly, “and I was going stir-crazy. Hate cities, man. You know that. All those damn humans crawling around.”

  Rune gave him a sharp look and Finn caught it. At first, insult rippled across his craggy features, but then he laughed, hard and short. “You think it’s me? You actually think I’ve gone rogue?”

  “You’re here,” Rune pointed out, tightening his grip on the hilt of his knife. “Elena Vargas was killed with magic and you just said yourself you’ve never been fond of humans.”

  “True.” Finn tucked his own knife back into its scabbard as a show of good faith, then raised both arms out to his sides. He was opening himself up to an attack, offering no resistance, and Rune didn’t know what to make of that, either.

  “I don’t much like humans. Hate cats, too, but I haven’t wiped out that species yet.”

  Rune rubbed his jaw and looked into his old friend’s gray eyes. Like his own, that gray swirled with power and magic and energy. “What the hell am I supposed to think, Finn? You just show up out of nowhere. Hell, for all I know, you’ve been following Teresa and me around since the beginning.”

  The slightest flinch showed on Finn’s face again and then was gone. When he spoke, his voice was hard and flat. “I didn’t call because I figured it’d be easier just to lock in on your trace energy pattern and follow you once I got here. Knew you were in this part of Mexico headed south because Torin told me. I didn’t follow you. I didn’t kill that woman.”

  Rune shook his head. He wanted to believe. But the image of Elena’s burned body rose up in his mind. “Where were you a couple weeks ago, Finn?”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Deadly.”

  A second ticked past, then another. He still held his arms out at his side, in an open show of trust. He blew out a breath, gritted his teeth and said, “Two weeks ago, I was trying to keep my witch’s sweet ass out of a sling when she and her friends decided to stage a breakout at an internment camp.”

  Stunned, Rune just looked at him. “She did what?”

  “Yeah.” Finn bristled in memory and shook his head as if even he was still having a hard time believing it. “If I hadn’t been there to take out two guards who were coming up behind her, the Awakening would have been over.”

  The thought of that was a sobering one. After centuries, to be so close to fruition and lose it because a witch was needlessly killed … “What the hell is she doing?”

  At the implied disapproval, Finn gave Rune a hard glare. “She’s trying to save people, you asshole. That so hard to understand? She might not know she’s a witch yet, but she feels for the women caught up in this business. And she’s trying to help.”

  Hearing the harsh ring of protectiveness in Finn’s tone did more to convince Rune that he was innocent than anything else could have. No rogue would give a shit about his witch, because he’d be in this for whatever he could get. He wouldn’t be standing here unarmed and
open to attack, either. He’d have tried to take Rune out first thing.

  Relief poured through him as he acknowledged that his brother was still just that. But on its heels came impatience. “You let her go? Didn’t try to stop her? Damn, my man. You were taking a chance.”

  “Rules of the game, brother,” Finn muttered. “You know that. We can’t approach until their powers quicken in times of danger. And she didn’t use magic on that raid. Just stupid human emotions.”

  Rune snorted. “Yeah, never liked that rule myself. Hell, I got shot to shit with white-gold bullets when I swooped in to save my witch as her power erupted.”

  “That rule blows, all right.” Finn looked around. “Anyway, my witch is laying low for a while. Think she got scared. So I figured it would be safe enough for me to come out here and track whoever killed your woman’s friend. That is,” he added, “if you’re done suspecting me.”

  Rune slid his knife back into its scabbard and nodded. “Yeah, I’m done. And I’m actually glad to see you. There’s something going on here, Finn. More than we know. If it’s not one of us gone rogue, then there’s a new player in the game. Demon. Sorcerer. Some damn thing. And it’s deadly.”

  Finn gave him a cold, confident smile. “Wouldn’t be any challenge in it otherwise, now would there?” Folding his arms over his chest, he said quietly, “Tell me everything you know.”

  Chapter 44

  Deidre Sterling turned the stereo down with a click of the remote, then reached for her glass of white wine. She took a long drink and as she felt the icy liquid slide through her system, she hoped to heaven it would help her relax.