Charmed and Dangerous: An Appalachian Magic Novel (Appalachian Magic Series Book 1)

by Debbie Herbert

  He looked so damn young. James hesitated. “Promise not to strike again.”

  Tears ran down the boy’s cheeks.

  “It’s all right,” James said, removing the knife. “I’m not going to hurt you.” James eased up on an elbow.

  Fast as an arrow in the wind, the kid raised his weapon in the air, ready to deliver a death blow. “Sucker,” he taunted.

  Before he could move away, a broadsword sliced through the boy’s neck, sending a spray of blood raining down.

  A large immortal with long, black hair blocked the moon’s light. “Never trust anyone, not even a kid,” he said, extending an arm to James.

  James felt himself being lifted. Already, his injuries were healing. “Andrew Scott. You made it here after all?”

  “You once spared my life, and I vowed I would save yours if I ever had the opportunity.”

  James nodded. “Thank you.”

  They shook hands.

  “Shall I watch over you while the quickening comes?” James asked. “Lucas may have more men nearby.”

  “The boy was young; the quickening will be brief. You better return to the witch’s bonfire.”

  * * *

  The priestess dabbed consecrated moon water on the top of Callie’s head and drew a pentagram in the air. She turned Callie to face the coven. “As you all know, tonight is special. Let’s join our energy as we bless our newest member.”

  This is it. She was light-headed with anticipation as she stared at the full moon. It glowed with the sheen of an abalone seashell with swirls of mauves, lavenders, pinks, and silver. The colors transformed into a mist. A cauldron of emotions brewed inside her. Bolts of electric energy pulsated in the air, creating a thunderstorm in her brain. The energy coursed through her and charged every nerve as her aura blended with the coven members.

  Out of the pastel mist, figures appeared—the ancestral spirit guides Mabel foretold. One-by-one they approached with their individual Gifts. All looked to be her age but from different times and cultures.

  The first spirit was a plaid-clothed Scottish girl holding an herbal bouquet. “For herbal knowledge,” she said with a Celtic lilt.

  The second guide was an olive-skinned Native American maiden with a crow perched on her outstretched finger. “To be at one with Mother Nature and the Great Spirits is my Gift.”

  Next a young mother appeared, holding a baby in her arms. “My gift is a healing and nurturing touch.” Her voice was soft and calming.

  A barefooted teenager shyly came forward. Her clothes were threadbare, and she clutched a dirty apron. “I ain’t got nothin’ fancy,” she said in the heaviest Southern drawl Callie had ever heard. “I jest help out folks who come to me with their burdens. I don’t rightly know if it’s what you’d call a Gift.”

  A beautiful girl carrying a sparkling purple wand came and touched the field worker’s arm in encouragement. “She brings you the Gift of your family’s Appalachian folklore and its magical roots.”

  “Thank you,” Callie told the blushing apparition.

  “Did she just say something?” One of the coven members asked, but the voice sounded as if it came from deep down a well.

  “I bring you the skill of enchantment and magical spells,” said the fifth spirit with a confident wave of her wand. It left a trail of purple light in the air that danced in the moonbeams filtering through the woods.

  A hippie with long braids, leather headband, jeans, and a tie-dyed t-shirt appeared. In her cupped hand, she held a cluster of glowing gems in every color. “You will be able to communicate with the vibrational force of crystals.”

  There was a pause. Where was spirit guide number seven? Had she counted wrong?

  A shadowy human outline hovered in the mist. “You haven’t counted wrong,” it said faintly. “My Gift will be revealed later.”

  The mist vanished, and Callie came out of the moon trance. Mabel had been right, no pain at all. She caught her mom’s eye, and they shared a private smile. A deep peace settled in Callie’s mind.

  It was short-lived.

  The distant noise of fighting between Lucas’s coven and James’s group of immortals grew louder as the enemies came close to the edge of the coven’s circle.

  At the edge of the blue protective light, Lucas searched the group for its weakest link. He found it between the joined hands of two elderly women. Callie couldn’t make out his words, but Lucas raised an arm, closed his fist, and chanted something. He threw a lightning bolt of power that opened up a slight break in the protective magic. Through the opening, she glimpsed men fighting outside the circle.

  The momentary break was all Lucas needed. He held up his hands, and she felt his power as he held the circle at bay and slipped in. Lucas came directly to her.

  “Congratulations, Callie. I’ve been looking forward to this night for twenty years.” He faced her at the altar and smiled, eyes glittering with the cunning of a fox. Static electricity arced between them, casting dancing light in erratic patterns.

  “You are not welcome here. Leave at once,” the high priestess said in a cold, clipped voice.

  “Not until this business is finished.” His eyes never left Callie’s face. “Come with me and I can give you the one thing you desire above all else.”

  What was he talking about? It took her about two seconds to figure it out.

  She shook her head. “Nobody can give me that. You’re either born with it or not.”

  “What is Lucas offering?” the high priestess asked.

  Father and daughter stared at one another. Her anger grew, and the light show between them increased. Lucas dangled her most fervent dream like a carrot in front of her.

  “Immortality,” she whispered. “He’s offering me immortality.” To have this Gift would mean an eternity with James. His spies had done their homework; he knew her heart’s most secret desire.

  “All I ask in return is that you join my coven,” Lucas continued. “With your gifts and my experience, not to mention the influence of my coven, we can have anything we desire . . . wealth, political power, control of the weak-minded.”

  His smile was wolfish and his eyes gleamed fanatically. “My coven is the best of both worlds. We have the strength and physical prowess of immortals combined with the magical skills of the Dark Craft. With your special Gifts, your addition to this coven would make it invincible.”

  She wavered. Riches and power didn’t tempt her, only the need to be with James forever. But . . . it was wrong. She couldn’t build a life of happiness on the misery of others. Immortality wasn’t in Lucas’s power to give. James had told her it was a completely random biological abnormality. And she trusted James, not this stranger.

  Mom stepped forward. “Don’t listen to him.”

  “Never,” Callie told Lucas. “I will never submit to your will. Besides, you’re a damn liar.”

  The hopeful light faded from his dark eyes until his pupils were as empty as a black hole in the night sky. He inclined his head in the barest of nods. The light show between them stopped.

  Lucas had no power over her and conceded defeat.

  Suddenly, strong arms grabbed her from behind, and she was pinned against a muscular body. The blade of a knife touched her throat, and an image of Connors’s twisted face was reflected in her father’s eyes.

  “We tried it your way. Now it’s my turn.” Connors sneered at Lucas, his breath hot and foul. He tightened his hold, and the knife pricked Callie’s neck, sending a trickle of wet blood down her white robe.

  Mom screamed and her father’s eyes widened in horror. Against her thin cotton robe, the feel of Connors’s thick, roped muscles surprised her. He came across as a balding, paunchy middle-aged man when acting as college dean. But underneath the ill-fitting business suits, Connors had hidden an athletic build.

  She struggled to break free, but as hard as she pulled at the hands encircling her neck, she couldn’t move them an inch. Desperate, she kicked Connors repeatedly on his shi
ns. He grunted but didn’t budge.

  Use your mind. Callie tried to exert a calming aura to lessen Connors’s rage, but it was no use. His strength and power were too great.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Lucas pleaded to his former henchman.

  Through the haze of fear, Callie caught his words. Don’t hurt her. Did he really care about her, or did he want her unharmed so he could kidnap and use her for his coven?

  Connors spit in Lucas’s face. “I knew you were too soft and weak to control your daughter.” His eyes narrowed in disgust. “All that drivel on the phone when you asked me about her feelings. As if I care. That’s when I knew you didn’t have what it takes to rule with absolute power. I’m the one in charge now. And your precious daughter will either come with me or die. Her choice.”

  Outside the circle, screams and the clash of metal striking metal reached a thundering crescendo. It was as she had feared—a full-scale war.

  Her coven, their faces troubled and intent, moved slightly forward at a signal from the high priestess. As one, they melded their energy to bar anyone else from entering the circle. A protective ring of pulsing blue energy surrounded the coven. Indigo sparks flew in all directions whenever a sword or person tried to slash their way through the blue circle of light. The night filled with smoke and shadow while the orange bonfire blazed in the inner circle.

  “Callie! Let me in.” James’s roar pushed through the tumult.

  She had to help James, usher him into the circle before he was hurt. Perhaps one of her spirit guides could assist. Callie lifted her right hand in supplication. At once, one of the guides came to her aid, and a wand materialized in her palm. Lifting the wand, Callie directed her energy to cut a doorway in the wall of light. The wand emitted a sapphire bolt that sparked as it carved a hole in the protection ring.

  James charged through the opening in an instant, eyes blazing in fury, jaw clinched. His hands gripped the huge saber she’d seen displayed on his bedroom wall.

  Before he could reach her, Lucas lunged at Connors.

  Connors was ready. Still clutching her in the vice-like grip of his powerful left arm, his right hand lifted a second sword he’d concealed behind his back.

  Lucas charged Connors, but the sword was waiting, piercing Lucas’s lungs in one ugly thrust. He dropped to his knees and coughed frothy blood. He stared in disbelief as his former aide pulled the sword from his chest and raised it over his head.

  Only beheading can kill an immortal.

  No. Dear goddess, no. Could James reach Connors in time to save her father?

  Callie wrenched at Connors’s arm around her neck, but her strength was nearly spent. Even breathing was difficult with Connors’s grip at her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to witness the bloody act. Lucas might not have been much of a father, but he was the only one she’d ever had. Without him, she’d never have received the gift of life.

  Her mother screamed, an agonized wailing. James hadn’t been able to stop the killing. Callie flinched at the unmistakable thump as her father’s head hit the ground.

  Connors’s grip on her throat tightened even more. Breathing was near impossible. But she had one last thing to do. She summoned all her strength, avoiding looking at what had once been her father. Raising her wand, she closed the portal she’d created for James. Now no one else could enter. A shove slammed her back, and the wand fell from her hand. Her head hit the ground, and the world went black.

  * * *

  No! He couldn’t be too late. White-hot rage flushed his body, directed against the man who dared hurt the woman he loved. Fever overcame reason, and he charged Connors. He was so fast, Connors hardly had time to react.

  In striking distance, James stepped back on his right foot and swung his weapon through the witches’ bonfire. The sword glowed cherry-red and vibrated with extra power. In one violent stroke, he chopped off Connors’s right hand, the one he’d used to decapitate Lucas.

  Connors bellowed in pain and stumbled backwards. James pressed forward for the final blow. The glow had diminished from the saber but still emitted a humming vibration. To his surprise, Connors had some fight left. With his one good hand, Connors retrieved his sword and smiled.

  “This ain’t over yet,” he bellowed. In a swift motion, Connors threw his sword like a javelin in James’s chest.

  The sword pierced, hot and excruciating. James blocked the pain and concentrated on a final charge. His enemy was now weaponless. James raised his saber high and brought it down in an arc. The bonfire crackled and popped as the whistle of metal and wind sliced through the air.

  The saber made a grisly sound as it connected, cutting through flesh, sinew, bone, and windpipe. Connors’s severed head thudded to the ground and rolled into the witches’ bonfire. Orange sparks filled the sky as the hiss and stench of flesh overpowered the sweet herbal scents placed earlier in the fire. The immortals and members of Lucas’s coven stopped fighting outside the circle. An unnatural quiet settled over the field.

  James dropped the weapon, fatigue settling in his body. It wouldn’t be long before the quickening, when Connors’s life force transferred to him. He crawled over to Callie and sat, placing her head on his lap. He stroked her hair and took one of her wrists to feel for a pulse.

  Nothing. He pressed harder, willing her heart to beat.

  Still nothing.

  Anguish slammed him, fierce and unlike anything he had lived through in all his years. Callie was everything. What a fool he’d been trying to guard his heart. If she were alive, he would gladly take whatever mortal years she had to give. He’d never even told Callie he loved her. Regret burned more than the chest wound. He drew out Connors’s sword, and his jagged flesh immediately started mending.

  He looked up wearily, expecting the quickening energy from Connors. Instead, two balls of death energy hurtled his way. How was it possible? The quickening, the energetic power transfer, always went to the victorious immortal. By all rights, Connors should have received Lucas’s power immediately after beheading his former leader.

  “The quickening power will come to you from both Connors and Lucas.”

  James turned and saw Ginnie a few feet away, staring sadly down at Lucas’s body.

  She raised her head and faced him. “Our coven concentrated its powers to help you and keep Connors from receiving the quickening from Lucas. If the energy transfer from Lucas had gone straight to Connors, he would have had a huge advantage fighting you. We couldn’t let that happen. So now you absorb the power of both men.” Her face appeared steeped in wrinkles, old and haggard as light and shadows danced across her in the firelight. “Take care of my little girl.”

  He didn’t have the heart to tell her Callie was dead. “I will,” he lied.

  Ginnie’s sad smile was the last thing he saw before the quickening burst upon him.

  16

  The Final Gift

  A voice whispered from the black abyss. “It’s not your time. Summerland is for the dead.”

  Callie floated toward a green meadow exploding with flowers in every color. She smelled jasmine, lily of the valley, and roses, a bouquet of joy. Mom stood in the meadow waving, yellow butterflies flitting around her hair like a living tiara. Callie waved back.

  From behind, the voice returned, more insistent. She turned and recognized the shadowy form of her seventh spirit guide.

  “You can’t go to Summerland. I’ve yet to bestow my Gift.”

  I must be dead. She’d never believed Summerland was a real place. The witches’ afterlife was nothing but a fairy tale. But if this was Summerland, why was Mom here?

  “What happened?” she asked, shaking her head to clear the confusion.

  “I bring good news.” The guide stopped a couple of feet away. She looked to be in her early eighties, and her movements were slow but steady and graceful. By far the most exotic-looking of the guides, she wore a purple and peach robe. A single, long peacock plume dangled from a braid in her hair. In one gna
rled hand, she held a pinecone. “Your father asked you what you desired above all Gifts.”

  “Immortality,” she whispered.

  “Had you been mortal, you would be dead. In his rage, Connors miscalculated and squeezed too tight around your neck when he held you hostage.”

  She touched her neck. It did feel swollen and painful when she swallowed, but with every passing second, the pain lessened.

  “What’s going on?”

  The guide lifted the pendant hanging on her neck. “Do you know what this is?”

  Her heart beat faster, a pounding drum exploding her chest. “It’s an ankh. The Egyptian symbol for immortality.”

  “The Eternal Ones have been with mankind since humans first sprang from the primordial Nile delta. But they really flourished and grew in number during the age of the highland warrior clans in Scotland.” She laid the ankh back down against her chest. “And do you recognize this?” She held out a dried-up cone.

  “Obviously a pine cone. Is this a trick question?”

  “It’s a Bristle cone. From a tree scientists view as a potential biologically immortal specimen. The cone in my hand is nearly five thousand years old.”

  “Amazing. But . . . are you saying . . . I’ll live forever?” She held the twin emotions of hope and excitement at arm’s length. If this was all an illusion, the disappointment would be crushing.

  “Believe it,” the guide said. “Your father was immortal, and his genes have passed to you. As we speak, others only see your physical body lying on the ground.” She stepped closer, still holding out the pinecone. “Take it and know you’ve crossed over to eternal life.”

  James viewed immortality as a curse, but if it meant loving him forever, she’d gladly be cursed alongside him. She wrapped her hand around the rough pinecone bark.

  Her body jerked and convulsed. Screams echoed in her brain.

  “Callie, wake up. Please, wake up. You can’t be dead.”

  Skye. She opened her eyes. Skye hovered above.

  “I was afraid you were dead!” Her friend’s voice trembled.