Curling into a ball, her trembling hands encompassed the dripping putsi bag, and she squeezed her eyes closed.
“Return what I have taken to whence it came. Warm my flesh and release its claim,” Elora whispered in a plea.
It took a moment before the warmth built up inside her. The intensity grew, and she rolled over, flinging her arms out to the side as she attempted to release the heat.
A scream ripped from her, and her back arched, lifting her upper body off the ground. She was burning alive from the inside out. How fitting it would be if she survived freezing only to die from spontaneous combustion brought on by a poorly-worded incantation.
Then, suddenly, the fire coursing through her vanished, and she stared up at the snowflakes dancing through the darkening sky. A flake landed on her nose, and she brushed it away.
She paused as she saw her sleeve was dry and realized she was no longer wet and cold. As excruciatingly painful as the process had been, her spell worked, pulling the sea water from her clothing and body.
A shadow passed over her, and she looked at the guard who came to check on her. With the evening sun behind him, his face was silhouetted by the bright rays.
She squinted and sat up, smoothing her skirt over her legs. She rose from the ground and winced at the tenderness of her chest. She would carry a bruise from where she’d landed on the bridge.
“Thank you,” she said and turned to stare up at the man who saved her life.
Anything else she might have said lodged in her throat as she was thrown back six years. He was older, broader, harder, but none of that did anything to disguise him.
Mason.
Elora flung herself at him, desperate for the press of his body against hers. The contact consumed her, throwing her back to the last time he held her in his arms, moments before Niobe pulled her from him.
Lost in the memory, it was a moment before Elora recognized how different his hold was. Gone was the warm and comforting embrace. Instead, his hands patted her back, lacking even the slightest hint of genuine emotion.
She cupped his face in her hands, gently tugging his head lower until his eyes met hers. Her soul screamed in rejection at what she found staring back at her. Whatever magic Niobe used on him was still there.
The Mason she knew was gone.
2
Falling snow dusted the flats of the mainland. The rolling gray clouds promised the first fall of the year would be heavy. Despite the near permanent cold temperatures in the area, the coastal region didn’t accumulate the same amount of snow as the inland areas. The lack of mountains helped push the clouds farther in before they released their burden.
The last of the ice bridge crumbled into the sea, tumbling through the darkened waves. From the edge of the water, the sea appeared to go on forever. Yet, beyond the horizon, a few miles out lay a tiny spot of land.
Centuries ago, the Eskimos from the Northern side of the Sound would canoe over to the island in the summer and gather the wood collected on the western edge, braving the rough seas to drag the wood back to the barren tundra. The arrival of the ravagers ended that practice as the waters became infested. For years, the villagers fought off the savage creatures until finally the Regent High Witch set up the barrier around the Sector.
Mason gazed out at the translucent shield. His decision to open it had drawn the ravagers' attention. They lashed out, searching for weaknesses only to be thrown back from the Regent’s powerful spell. The force of their deformed bodies pushing through the water made small swells, disturbing the natural tide. Blue sparks created by the contact flashed along the barrier, lighting up the darkening sky like the Aurora Borealis.
An order of extra guards would be needed along the beach until they could send notice to the Regent. Reaching her had become increasingly difficult the past year as rumors traveled north of a powerful coven challenging her reign. Up North, people distanced themselves from the politics of the South, though the impact on them was greater.
The woman in his arms clung to him, and he continued patting her back. Despite the spell she used to dry herself, her entire body convulsed with shivers from her dip in the Sound. The feel of her body along his reminded him of how long it had been since he held a woman. Sector Ten was rough land. Very few people lived in the Northern regions of the Sector, and even fewer of those were attractive women, though, Luce, a fellow guard, definitely qualified as one. That was a dalliance he didn’t often part take in, partly because she was senior guard and he technically fell under her command.
The woman pulled back to gaze up at him, and his patting stopped. Big green eyes studied him anxiously at first then with growing despair. He wondered what she hoped to see when she looked at him.
Elora looked precisely as he would have expected if he’d taken the time to consider her over the years. She was a beautiful woman. Wild black hair, a bow-shaped mouth, and high cheekbones hinted at her Eskimo heritage, though, much like the rest of the population, generations of blended genetics left her complete lineage a question. The angles of her face had lost the slight chubbiness of youth while beneath her parka he felt the increased curves of her body.
“Mason, it’s me. Elora,” she said.
Her voice had changed as well. As a girl, it had been sweet and silvery, carrying on the wind like the pictures of butterflies in the pages of his mother’s books; now, its breathiness threatened to pull him under its husky spell.
“I recognize you.”
He did more than that. He remembered her. Up until she crossed the bridge with Niobe, she’d always been a part of his life, filling the dreary days with laughter and the hope of one day leaving this desolate place. Then she’d been gone and life moved on. He moved on.
Yet, there she was, and something inside of him stirred, a warmth long absent. But the flicker died as quickly as it came, leaving him with only the bitter cold.
She stared up at him, and the sorrow he saw there made him uncomfortable. She obviously expected something from him, and a woman’s expectation was something he always avoided.
His arms fell, and he stepped away from her. Turning from her curious gaze, he moved back to his post to pick up the buckshot bolt from beside the large rune stone where he’d left it. He gave the gun a slight jiggle, letting the weight of it fill him with assurance.
Killing ravagers was nearly impossible. Their leathery skin covered a skeletal frame made of thick, bone-like material. As guns go, the bolt was one of the most powerful weapons for battling them. The bolt fired a charge which upon impact released four projectiles that then exploded. If the shield failed, he had some protection for himself and the villagers against the creatures. Protection from Niobe’s wrath was another matter.
“How did you escape Niobe?” he asked, glancing back at Elora.
“I didn’t.” She wrapped her arms around herself.
“She let you go?” Even as he spoke the words, he dismissed them. Niobe wouldn’t let her go, not without conditions. Or, perhaps, Niobe gained Elora’s allegiance. He abandoned the idea just as swiftly as the first. Elora’s pure nature was unchangeable, rooted in the white magic flowing through her veins.
“She’s dead,” Elora revealed.
“She was old,” he said when she paused as if expecting a barrage of questions from him.
“No,” Elora whispered, her face scrunched up. “I killed her.”
He nodded as he slung the weapon over his shoulder. He didn’t ask how she did it. It didn’t matter, and he didn’t particularly care. It was enough to know Niobe no longer posed a risk to the village.
A couple hundred yards away, he spotted Nick, one of the other guards, making his way to a post. Mason lifted his fist in the air, squeezing tightly before opening it to emit a short burst of red light from his glove to signal the changing of the guard, then waited for Nick to return the gesture. There was a pause, probably while Nick attempted to figure out who was with him before lifting his own hand in response to Mason’s signal.
Mason placed a hand on the Inuksuk at the base of his post. The structure of large rocks balanced atop each other was an ancient Inuit and Eskimo system of creating landmarks in the barren land of the North. This Inuksuk did more than identify a guard post; the runes etched into the bottom stone provided additional protection to his section of the shoreline when he was gone. It was a blending of local tradition and the magic brought to the Sector by the Regent.
He recited the warding spell, and his hand glowed blue. A hiss escaped him as the magic transferred from his body to the stone, the symbols shimmering briefly before they faded to black.
“Let’s go,” he said, releasing the rock. “The Dealer will want to speak to you.”
The sooner he dumped her with the Dealer, the sooner he could hit up the bar and grab a pint before turning in for the night. Crossing the beach, he stepped over the massive logs piled up at the end of the tide line. He made it to the path leading to the village before realizing Elora wasn’t following. Turning back to ensure she hadn’t keeled over from hypothermia, he propped his hands on his hips.
“What’s happened to you, Mason?” Her husky voice quivered and, in the fading light, he wondered if she was crying.
“Nothing happened. I’m fine.”
“You’ve never been a good liar.” She closed the distance between them, stepping delicately over the rocks and driftwood. She stopped a few feet away, the last rays of sunlight illuminating the tracks of tears along her cheeks.
“What reason would I have to lie?” He dragged a hand over his scruffy jaw.
“I don’t know, but you're different.”
“It’s been years since we last saw each other. You're different as well.” He shifted from one foot to the other.
“Six. Six years and this isn’t because of time.”
There was that expectation again, and he would have cringed if he could have summoned concern for her opinion. What powers did she possess that allowed her to see into him? No one else commented on the changes in him. Perhaps they attributed it to time. But he conceded that she was right. He was different, and it had little to do with the passage of six years. It happened the day she disappeared.
“Let’s move.” This time, he didn’t bother to check if she followed.
The village bustled with activity. With winter growing nearer, darkness took over the day, making it hard to remember it was only mid-afternoon. He marched along the stone pathway, nodding his head in response to the stares they drew. Visitors were rare, especially those who came by sea. A few of them may have recognized Elora, in which case there would be concern about Niobe and the barrier. He was off duty, so one of the other guards could handle that mess.
The station house sat in the center of the village. Hobbled together with large pieces of driftwood and mud, it wasn’t the sturdiest building, but it was the safest.
Painted on each side of the building were various Enochian sigils. With a bit of blood, the sigils summoned and banished at will, although they primarily served to send messengers to the Regent and her Mages. On the door, two large Vs, one inverted, overlapped and were intersected by a straight horizontal line. The Seal of Saturn was the emblem of the Tank. Once called the Army, the Tank force was known for their dedication to protecting the borders along with their ability to make often heartless but necessary decisions.
It was that ability that would make Mason’s choice to open the shield for Elora so hard to justify. He wasn’t sure he could explain it to himself let alone the Dealer.
He opened the door and stepped into the small building. To the left of the entry stood a tall weapons rack, and he placed the buckshot bolt on the top shelf and grabbed his double ax. With two blades on either end of the long shaft, it took him months to craft. As one of the deadliest weapons for close combat, the ax remained his weapon of choice, though he used the Tank-issued bolts on post duty.
What the ax didn’t possess was magic. That would require the skills of a mage or witch, neither of which he laid claim to being. His hand tightened on the shaft for a moment before he wove his arm and head through the strap and tugged to secure the weapon across his back. After a brisk swipe of his feet on the roughly spun mat, he went to the entrance of the Dealer’s office.
Already a burly man, the Dealer appeared even larger in the cramped space. Mason cleared his throat to announce his arrival. The older man laid down his pen and, eyebrows pulled low over his dark eyes, stared up at Mason.
Mason met his gaze straight on. Any other guard would be worried about the prospect of losing their position among the Tank forces after compromising the barrier, but not Mason. Part of it was because unlike the others, he wasn’t intimidated by the Dealer. But mostly it was because Mason didn’t care about his position or about the Dealer’s opinion of him. He didn’t actually care about anything.
“Report,” the Dealer ordered, cocking his head to the side to peer around Mason.
“The ice bridge collapsed. Elora Massak has been recovered. Barrier is secure, though ravagers inflicted substantial damage. Recommend notifying the Regent to fortify the shield to guarantee maximum security.”
The Dealer nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing on Mason before he lowered them to the papers before him.
“Send Nick for a mage,” he said.
“He’s on watch.” Mason inclined his head a fraction. “I can go. I’m familiar with the Capitol and the location of the Mage Temple.”
“Are you questioning my order, Tank?”
“No, sir.” Mason gritted his teeth.
It had been months since he last went to the Capitol, and his plans to return had been hampered by the Dealer each time. He wasn’t sure why the old man didn’t want him going South, but he grew irritated at the new delay. He was tempted to simply go, but just as Elora’s nature couldn’t change, neither could his. He was bound by his responsibility to the villagers.
“Details surrounding the recovery of Elora Massak,” the Dealer inquired.
“She appeared on the ice bridge as it began to collapse. I opened the shield to allow her entrance.”
“Reasoning?”
That one simple word was the one Mason had both dreaded and anticipated. How to explain the way his entire body went on alert when he first spotted movement outside the bridge? How could he rationalize the heat that poured through his chest when he’d recognized her?
“Did I stutter, Tank?”
“I determined the opportunity to debrief her would provide valuable intel and enable us to evaluate Niobe’s continued risk.”
Silence took over as the Dealer weighed his excuse, and as each second ticked by Mason’s mind latched onto his reason, giving it a truth inside of him. It must have settled as truth in the Dealer as well.
“Niobe’s status?”
“Deceased.”
The Dealer stilled, yet didn’t ask for further details. “Send Luce to relieve Nick and get him to the Capitol. Dismissed.”
Mason gave a curt nod and spun around only to find Elora looking up at him, eyes wide with fear and confusion. The flickering fire lit up her face, highlighting the flush of her smooth cheeks. His gut clenched, and he forced himself to walk around her and out the door. The rush of feelings disturbed him, yet as he left her behind, the tension she’d generated within him dissipated.
Tank forces resided in a row of one-room cabins. When he first joined the forces, guards filled the twenty cabins. Yet, the dwindling control of the Regent had left the force and barrier vulnerable. Only ten guards and the Dealer remained. As the senior guard, Luce’s cabin sat at the far end of the row. He stalked down the road to her place then pounded on the door until it swung open.
When Luce opened the door, he couldn’t help the once over he gave her. She was a stunning woman. Built like an Amazon warrior, with long, lean muscles and a killer instinct that shone through in her confident stance and the way she tossed her long brown ponytail over her shoulder.
“I thought we agreed to
meet at your place later,” she said, moving in to press herself against him.
Her lips found his, and as he enjoyed the intoxicating feel of her tightly-toned body, he calculated the time they needed for a quick romp. Then an image of Elora and her green eyes flashed before him, and his interest in Luce vanished. He pulled back to rub the taste of her from his lips.
“Maybe later. Dealer wants you on post.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue. No one questioned the Dealer’s orders.
“I saw Nick head out, so what’s up?” she asked as they walked back down to the beach.
“Dealer’s sending him to the Capitol. The ice bridge is gone.”
“Spill it. Dealer wouldn’t be rearranging post shifts simply to send Nick. He would have sent you.” She arched one of her thin eyebrows. “So what aren’t you telling me?”
He hadn’t considered why Nick was being sent instead of him, yet Luce had a point. The Dealer didn’t base his decisions on a whim.
“I opened the shield,” he admitted.
“Damn, Mason, I’m surprised he let you walk out of his office without bloodshed. What were you thinking?”
“Elora was on the other side.”
Luce stopped mid-stride to look at him. “And you let her in? After everything that happened because of her, you let her back in?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t see her fist flying toward him until it was too late. It made solid contact with his jaw, and his head snapped to the side. He rubbed at the aching skin and bones, unsure what pissed her off.
“What was that for?”
The rage in Luce’s face was enough to tell him he asked the wrong question.
“You let her in.” Accusation increased the volume of her words.
He knew better than to say anything this time, deciding it was better to let her get it out. She never kept silent about her opinions, and anytime Elora came up, Luce was the first to chime in.
Winter Souls: an Adult Paranormal Witch Romance: Sector 10 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 2