by Lexi George
“That’s sweet, Duncan, and I appreciate it, but I’m a big sorceress and can take care of myself.” Pressing her palms against his hard chest, she smiled up at him. “Toby’s right. He has a nose for supers. The faster you find Taryn and Gryff, the faster you come home to me.”
Duncan’s eyes flared. “Cassandra? Are you saying . . .? Dare I hope that you—”
“Yes.” Cassie blushed. “I tried to tell you this morning, but we were interrupted.”
“Cassandra. My heart.” Blip. Duncan whisked her out of the kitchen and into the hall, away from the others. He pressed her against the wall. “Say it, my love. I would hear you say it ere I leave.”
This was it. Time to step off the ledge and fly . . . or go splat.
“I . . .” Cassie’s throat tightened, and her heart jerked against her ribs. She tried again. “Duncan, I . . .”
But try as she might, the words wouldn’t come. Cheeks burning, she exhaled in frustration. What was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she say it? This was ridiculous. She gave it another try. “I care about you, Duncan,” she managed at last after a titanic struggle, “and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Lame, but better than nothing, right?
The squeam made a gagging noise. Not even close. Miss Lucy was right. There’s no accounting for stupid.
Duncan stood motionless, silent. The awkward hush stretched and stretched. Unable to bear the tension, Cassie lifted her gaze to his face. Disappointment, she expected. Fury would not have surprised her. Instead, she found him gazing at her with such an expression of tender amusement that Cassie’s breath caught.
“’Twas not what I hoped for,” he said, pressing a hard kiss upon her lips, “but ’tis a vast improvement upon ‘Go away, Duncan, ere I shoot you with my gun.’ ”
Releasing her, he stuck his head through the open kitchen door. “Let us away, my boon companions.”
Grim strode into the hall with Toby behind him in dog form. The back door opened, and they were gone. Cassie ran after them, watching through the glass as they crossed the lawn and melted into the trees.
Cassie swallowed, her throat thick with tears. She should have told him. Why the hell was she still so afraid?
She stood looking out the door a long time, then turned back toward the kitchen. As she went down the hall, the telephone rang.
She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Miss Ferguson?” a woman whispered in a frantic tone. “You got to unwhammy me. I can’t take being a love goddess no more. Me and Frodo’s run out of places to hide. I ain’t et or slept in days.”
Oh, good Lord, she’d forgotten about Nicole.
“Where are you?” Cassie asked.
“In the back of Webb’s Hardware. Me and Frodo snuck in to use the construction phone in the storeroom. We’s hiding behind a bin of nails. Went back to Miss Evie’s, and them crazy men was waiting for us. Squatting on the roof like a bunch of birds. Mr. Ansgar runned ’em off, but we couldn’t stay.” Nicole began to cry. “Yesterday, a bunch of them fools chased me up a sycamore tree. I’m a retired pole dancer, Miss Ferguson. I ain’t no Zacchaeus. I’d be up there still, sitting on a limb like a dang squirrel, if my Precious hadn’t runned them off.” She gasped. “Somebody’s coming. If they got a penis, I’m done for. Take this spell off’n me, Miss Ferguson. Please. I can’t take it no more.”
The phone went dead.
Cassie returned the receiver to its cradle. Going to the hall tree, she selected an ash staff from the stand and went out onto the front porch. She stood there quietly for a moment, listening to the steady slosh of the river, calming her thoughts and gathering her will.
Carefully, methodically, she recreated the repelling spell she’d cast on Nicole. It shimmered to life before her, a network of sparkling lines. She could see right away where she’d botched it. Several of the lines at the center of the spell formed a pulsing heart, throbbing with power. This was extremely potent magic. Thank goodness for Frodo. If not for the nasty little dog, Nicole might have been torn apart by her “admirers.”
Cassie was appalled. This was sloppy work, the mistake of a neophyte, not a seasoned wizard. She hadn’t made a mistake like this since . . . well, since ever. She examined the beating heart at the center of the spell. Projecting, no doubt about it. She’d been moping over Duncan when she’d cast the spell, and her unresolved, unacknowledged feelings had gotten woven into the incantation.
Rifling through her mistakes over the past few months, she had an epiphany. She hadn’t lost her touch. She’d been in denial, stuffing her feelings for Duncan, refusing to recognize them, and it had screwed with her magic, big-time. But that was in the past. She’d faced her feelings for Duncan and accepted them.
Oh, yeah? Guess that’s why you told the guy you love him.
Okay, she had a little more work to do in the own-your-feelings department, but she was making progress.
Now to make things right for poor Nicole.
Focusing on Nicole and her happiness and well-being, she carefully deconstructed the spell in her mind. The force filled her until she thought she might fly apart.
Pointing the staff at the shining spell, she muttered, “Erasus.”
The spell unraveled and disappeared with a pop.
“There,” Cassie said, pleased. “That should do nicely.” She left the porch and returned the staff to the stand in the hall, then climbed the stairs to the sickroom.
Verbena looked up from her reading and greeted her with a smile. “They’re feeling much better,” she said, waving the book in the direction of the patients.
Cassie had witnessed the windflowers’ magic with her own eyes. Nonetheless, she was amazed at the difference in mother and daughter. It was extraordinary. With her color returned and her vitality restored, the mother was a handsome woman, with thick brown locks and large brown eyes. The little girl was sitting up in bed eating grapes, and she, too, was vastly improved. Her eyes were no longer clouded with pain and fever, and the terrible sores that had riddled her body had almost faded away. Even her molting hair looked healthier, though the bald patches remained.
She looked up when Cassie came in. “Thank you for the grapes, Miss Cassie,” she said, offering her a shy smile. “I feel lots better.”
“I’m so glad, Blaze.” Cassie turned to the mother. “I’m happy to see that you’re both feeling better.”
The mother rose. “I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness, miss. Blaze and I had no place else to go.”
“Cassie,” she reminded her. “I’m sorry. I forgot to ask your name.”
“Laura.” The woman blushed. “I should have introduced myself before. Too upset to remember my manners.”
“Of course you were upset,” Cassie said. “Perfectly understandable, given the circumstances.”
Laura looked away, shamefaced. “We’ve been shunned. The pack wouldn’t even let us back in our house to get our things.”
“I heard,” Cassie said with a rush of sympathy for the woman. “What Zeb did was cruel and heartless.”
Not to mention abusive, she thought, angrily remembering the vicious blow the alpha had given Laura.
“Zeb,” Laura spat. “He got what he deserved.”
“What do you mean?” Cassie asked. “Is he dead?”
“No. Shunned by the pack, same as me and Blaze. The Randalls got a new alpha now.”
“Shunned? Why?”
“Zeb’s crazy as a loon, and the pack got tired of his mess, I reckon,” Laura said. “My cousin Gina slipped into the woods to speak to me. Our mothers were sisters, and we grew up close.” A spasm of grief crossed her face. Pressing her lips together, she continued, “Gina says Zeb got a bunch of the pack killed going after that stupid stone, and it was the last straw. The pack chased him off. Too little, too late, as far as I’m concerned. My Mac’s dead and it’s Zeb’s fault, may he rot in hell.”
“I want Mac,” Blaze said, and began to cry.
<
br /> “Shh,” Laura said, comforting the child.
“Shunned,” Cassie repeated, unnerved.
Zeb was out there, unmoored and unhinged, a powerful werewolf with nothing to lose, and Duncan was unaware. A terrifying premonition seized Cassie that she’d never see him again. Dread seeped into her bones, stealing her breath and robbing her of strength.
She should have told Duncan when she’d had the chance. She should’ve—
“What’s that?” Verbena looked up from her reading. “Sounds like a dog in pain.”
“Toby?” Cassie’s heart pounded. “He went into the woods with Duncan and Grim to look for the rogue.”
“That ain’t Toby.” Verbena dropped her book and jumped to her feet. “That’s Bo-Bo, and he’s in trouble.” She darted out of the room, quick as a hummingbird.
“Verbena, wait,” Cassie cried, running after her.
But Verbena was too fast. Cassie caught a flash of movement and heard the back door slam. Cassie dashed downstairs and flung open the door in time to see Joby Ray step out of the trees at the edge of the lawn, looking as shabby and disreputable as ever.
Verbena streaked across the lawn, her feet skimming the ground. “Don’t you hurt him, Joby Ray. You turn Bo-Bo loose, or so help me, you’ll be sorry.”
He held up a nondescript orange mutt by the scruff. “Come and get him, Beenie, if’n you want him so bad.”
He thrust out his arm, and the dog jerked and howled as though it had been pressed against an electric fence.
No, not electric—a magical fence. The spell line Cassie had erected shimmered in the sun. Superimposed on her wards was a network of glistening threads. Duncan had strengthened the wards, and the repelling spell he’d cast was unable to differentiate between man and animal. To the shield, a Skinner was a Skinner. The poor dog was being tortured.
“Stop it,” Verbena shrieked, running closer. “You’s hurting him.”
Joby Ray grinned and waited but made no move to step out on the lawn.
With horrifying clarity, Cassandra realized his game.
“Verbena, stop.” Cassie jumped off the porch and sprinted after the girl. “Don’t go near the wards. It’s what he wants.”
The girl paid no heed, sobbing as she ran.
“That’s right,” Joby Ray crooned, holding the yowling dog against the wards. “You gon’ have to come right up to me if’n you wants him.”
“Verbena, stop,” Cassie shouted again. “Don’t go any closer.”
Verbena ignored her. Running to the edge of the lawn, she reached through the shield and snatched the dog from Joby Ray. Sparks sizzled at the contact. Verbena’s hands closed around the dog, and she jerked him through. The animal went limp in her arms, head lolling and tongue hanging out.
“Bo-Bo?” Verbena sank to the grass with the dog in her lap. “Please don’t be dead.”
Shooting Joby Ray a glare of dislike, Cassie ran up. “You’d better leave, Skinner, before Duncan catches you.”
“Oh, he ain’t gon’ catch me.” Joby Ray smirked, his fingers flicking deftly over the wards. “Saw him take off into the woods with a dog and another big son of a bitch. I’ll be long gone afore he gets back.”
Cassie tugged on Verbena’s arm. “Come away from the spell line, Verbena. It’s a trick.”
“Got it,” Joby Ray said with a crow of delight. “Thankee, Beenie, for the boost. Good to know I ain’t lost my touch.”
Cassie stepped in front of Verbena. “Go away, Joby Ray. This is your last warning.”
“Shut your yap, bitch.” Joby Ray stepped through the shield. “I’ve had about enough of your sass.”
His arm jerked up. Too late, Cassie saw the billy club. The club came down and the world went black.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Toby sniffed and bounded into the trees with a deep, throaty huff. “He has caught a scent,” Grim said. “Perhaps ’tis Gryff.”
Duncan nodded and stilled, looking back in the direction of the cottage on the river. Unease shivered through him, and he had the sudden, deep misgiving that Cassandra needed him.
“What troubles you, brother?” asked Grim.
“I do not know,” Duncan said. “A presentiment of danger.” He gave Grim a rueful smile. “Or mayhap ’tis merely my longing for Cassandra. ’Tis ever thus with me.”
“You love her.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Aye,” Duncan said. “With all my heart.”
“Enough to bind yourself to her?”
“Brother, I have been bound lo these many years and have no wish to be free. If, howe’er, you ask whether I would make her my life mate an I could, the answer is yes. ’Tis my most earnest and heartfelt desire to join my life with Cassandra’s one day.”
“The lady has doubts?”
“Aye, so I fear.” Duncan grimaced. “And I have no one to blame save myself. I hurt her deeply many years ago, and she trusts me not.”
“Conall has told me of this,” Grim said. “You and your Cassie met some hundred years past?”
“Longer than that. Closer to two centuries than one.”
“Then you, and not Brand, are the first of our kind to fall in love.”
Duncan stared at his brother. “By the sword, you are right.”
“And with a demonoid,” Grim said. “It explains much. I would that you had told me. Perhaps I would have viewed your fondness for levity with more tolerance.”
“I misdoubt it. You ever saw me as a sad scapegrace.”
“True enough.” Grim sighed. “And then I met Sassy, and everything changed.” He spread his arms wide. “You see before you the happiest of warriors.” He dropped his arms, his smile fading. “But for my brother’s grief, my joy would be complete. I have so much, Duncan, and Gryff has lost everything. His honor, his brothers, his health. Even his mind has flown. When I saw him in the woods, he knew me not, mine own twin. How can I be happy when he is in abject misery?”
“We will find him, Grimford,” Duncan promised. “We are Dalvahni, and we do not falter from our purpose.”
Toby woofed again, and this time the message was clear. The dog had found something—or someone.
Duncan and Grim blurred through the woods, zipping past trees, streams, and hillocks, and came upon the wolfhound at last in a narrow defile between two hills. The hound sat on his haunches before a fallen log, having his ears rubbed by Taryn. It struck Duncan that the huntress looked wan and tired, an unusual circumstance, given the robust and unflagging nature of the Kirvahni constitution.
She rose when she saw them, inclining her head in acknowledgment. “Brothers,” she said in her fluid voice. “I am even now hot on the rogue’s trail, but tarried to rest, and was greeted by this noble hound. What brings you here?”
“The very same,” said Grim. “We seek Gryff.”
“Your loyalty to the brotherhood does you credit, Grimford, but as I have told you before, I cannot allow you to interfere with my duty,” Taryn said with unshaken calm. “My most sacred duty, imposed by Kehvahn himself. I have been tasked with bringing in the rogue, and that I will do.”
“Bring him in, by all means,” said Duncan, “but rescue him instead. A startling revelation has been made. Gryffin is no rogue but a victim of Pratt’s wickedness. Kehvahn desires you to free Gryff, not slay him.”
Taryn raised her brows. “I know nothing of this. What is more, you cannot release me from my vow.”
“Arta was to have informed you, but you have been stekaath.” Grim clenched his fists, and Duncan could sense his roiling tension. “Consult with her, I beg you, ere you do something you will regret. A warrior’s life is at stake.”
Taryn frowned. “Forgive me, but I cannot help but be skeptical, given the timing of your interference and the proximity of my quarry.”
“You would accuse us of dissemblance?” Grim growled, stepping forward.
Duncan grabbed him by the arm. “Your wariness is natural, but I swear to you by the sacred three
that we speak the truth.”
Taryn hesitated. “I desire but to do my duty. Yet I would not err, especially when the matter is so momentous.” She looked off into the distance, her gray eyes grave. “Very well. I will consult with Arta.”
Duncan relaxed. “It is well, sister. In the meantime, we will continue the search, for Grim is heartsick at his brother’s plight and cannot rest until he is freed.”
Toby sprang to his feet, barking sharply in warning. The atmosphere changed, and Gryff appeared on a rush of air. In an instant, Taryn’s bow was in her hands, an arrow fitted upon the string.
“Nay,” Grim shouted, springing between Gryff and Taryn. “Can you not see his affliction?”
Taryn lowered the bow, staring at Gryff, white-faced with shock. The rogue was as Duncan remembered: gaunt, barefoot, and in rags, his skin scored with writhing markings, his eyes vacant, his expression slack and uncomprehending. He held the orb cupped in the palms of his hands. His flesh burned and smoked, regenerated because of his Dalvahni blood, and scorched again. The pain was surely excruciating, but if he felt it, he showed no reaction.
He opened his mouth, his lips working, as though he’d forgotten how to speak.
“Girl.” The word was a guttural rasp. “Help. Girl.”
Gryff vanished, leaving them stunned and bewildered.
Taryn was the first to find her voice. “I saw him. He is most grievously tormented, but he is not evil.”
Grim glared at her in affront. “We told you as much. A Dalvahni warrior does not lie.”
“I do not expect you to understand,” she said, “but ’twas necessary I see the thing for myself.” She shivered. “He is filled with rage. Such bleak, unspeakable rage.”
“’Tis plain he came to deliver a warning,” Grim said, looking troubled. “What think you he meant by it?”
“Cassandra.” Fear squeezed Duncan’s lungs, and his apprehension returned full force. “I sensed she was in danger earlier and paid no heed.”
“Nay, Duncan,” Grim said. “Cassandra is most beauteous, but she is a woman full grown, not a girl.”
“I must go to her, nonetheless,” Duncan said. “You would do the same, were it Sassy.”