Wicked Magic

by Cheyenne McCray

  Yet Keir would rather stay in this place and have his peace and quiet when he required it.

  Now to rid himself of a certain Faerie …

  “Galia.” Keir tried to keep his voice and his temper in check. “You cannot stay here. You will return to our Otherworld.”

  The Faerie snorted and crossed her arms over her naked breasts. Her knee-length blond hair managed to look clean despite the room’s dust. “Make me.”

  Keir braced one palm on the door frame, his other hand on the doorknob of the open door as he glared at Galia. “My pleasure,” he said as he stepped back and slammed the door shut, locking the Faerie in the room.

  “Keir!” He barely heard her muffled voice through the metal. “Let me out!”

  He studied the door for a moment as tiny pounding noises and cries met his ears. No gaps at the floor or anywhere else he could see and he doubted her magic was strong enough to turn the doorknob and pull the heavy metal door open in order to escape. The window’s glass blocks were so thick it would likely take a battering ram to get through.

  With a feeling between exasperation and satisfaction, Keir turned away from the door and strode back down the stairs.

  Rhiannon sat in the common room with the other witches, along with Jake and several PSF officers. They waited for the D’Danann to get the newly arrived warriors settled. A lot of doubling up was needed and it would be a tight fit until they cleaned up more space. The basement was a possibility.

  A good hour had passed since Rhiannon zapped Keir in the nuts. She’d left the common room and marched up to her room and attempted to kill off a bunch of spiders with Frodo on her Lord of the Rings video game, but ended up almost throwing a fireball at her television screen instead. She’d tossed down the game controller, then took a long, hot shower. When she finished dressing, she returned to the common room to be in on the planning phase of what they would do next.

  It pissed her off how she couldn’t get that Neanderthal of a warrior out of her mind. Despite the fact he’d cornered her, invaded her personal space, and acted like he owned her.

  She doubted that would ever happen again.

  Yet she couldn’t get rid of the images of Keir caressing her body with those strong, callused hands. Just the way he’d made her feel the moment their eyes first met had set in motion a heated whirling sensation in her belly that refused to die down.

  Bless it!

  Rhiannon ground her teeth while she stroked Spirit. He stopped purring beneath her touch and started to twitch his tail near her elbow. Guess she’d been petting him a little too hard while thinking about that ass of a warrior. She softened her touch and Spirit started to purr again.

  After being in her grubby T-shirt and jeans, she’d felt a need to dress exceptionally bright to pick up her mood after she’d finished her shower. She wore a vivid pink blouse along with a short skirt of royal purple in the same cottony material. The skirt was in the style she favored, softly draping from her waist to just above her knees.

  The moment Keir walked into the common room, Rhiannon sensed it. Hair prickled at the nape of her neck and goose bumps slid across her skin. She took a deep breath, forced a haughty expression on her face, and turned to look directly at him.

  He was staring at her from across the room as if he might eat her up—that or kill her. After what she’d done to him, it would be a wonder he didn’t want to kill her.

  Yet there was some kind of electrical charge to the air as their eyes met. She was so sexually aware of him that her heart pounded and her mouth went dry.

  She forced her gaze away and raised her chin as she watched other D’Danann warriors fill the room, along with a few more PSF cops. When everyone was accounted for, Rhiannon stood, leaving Spirit on the couch.

  The room went quiet as she took her place at the front of the room. “Ceithlenn is somewhere in our city,” she said as she swept her gaze from one end of the half-moon-shaped crowd to the other. She took great care not to meet Keir’s eyes. “Night before last I had a clear vision of her.” Rhiannon swallowed as the images and the tastes came rushing back and bile rose up in her throat. “She is a flesh-eater and a soulstealer. She’ll grow stronger with every soul she takes.”

  “What makes you so certain this is true?” came Keir’s deep, mocking voice as he folded his arms across his chest.

  Spirit hissed loud enough to be heard through the room.

  Heat flared beneath Rhiannon’s skin as she met Keir’s gaze. “I know it’s true.” She didn’t pause, didn’t allow herself time to feel any more revulsion from the vision. “I can still taste the blood and the flesh of the human she ate. I can still feel the satisfaction in her full stomach. I can still sense the power flooding through her as she stole that human’s soul. I can still hear her thoughts. She plans to take more souls to make herself strong enough to bring back her husband, Balor.”

  She could also still feel Ceithlenn’s recognition of Rhiannon’s hidden powers.

  The Shadows.

  And now the Shadows were responding to her anger at Keir, trying to burst from within her and take him down. It would feel so good to set them free—

  Goddess! How could she have such dark thoughts and even darker magic inside her? She was a gray witch, not a warlock.

  She inhaled and battled back the Shadows. Fought them and locked them deep inside.

  Rhiannon clenched her fists at her sides and clenched her teeth just as hard as she stared at Keir’s unyielding expression. When she spoke she raised her voice enough to carry throughout the room. “Whether you choose to believe me or not doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the rest of us make plans and do whatever we can to track that goddess and put her away. For good.”

  Soft murmurs spread throughout the room. When Rhiannon could tear her gaze from Keir’s she proceeded to describe her vision, sparing no details.

  “The first problem is obvious,” she said when she finished. “We need to track her down. My fellow Coven sisters and I”—she gestured to the other witches—“have so far been unable to use divination to figure out where she is.”

  Sydney stood and stepped beside Rhiannon, taking her turn. Chaos took his place next to his mistress. In her matter-of-fact manner, Sydney said, “But yesterday, through our various forms of divination, my Coven sisters and I were able to determine that several Fomorii have infiltrated positions of power. They have taken over host bodies of politicians, law enforcement officers, and wealthy citizens.”

  Sydney’s long black hair gleamed in the common room’s yellow lighting. She explained what the witches had discussed as a way to discover where the evil god-wife was. “We find one Fomorii at a time and track it. Hopefully, one of the demons will lead us to Ceithlenn’s lair. Now we need to determine how to do that.” She looked at Jake Macgregor and added, “Perhaps some kind of homing device.”

  Jake got to his feet. He was six-four with dark hair and gorgeous baby blues, well-muscled and broad-shouldered. “We’ve got the means,” the PSF cop said, “but we’ll have to get up close and personal with these sonsofbitches. We just have to figure out how to do it.”

  “We”—Sydney gestured to the other witches grouped together on a pair of couches—“can search for the demons and tag them with Jake’s technology. That’ll allow any of us to follow a demon, hopefully to wherever Ceithlenn is hiding.”

  Her statement started an argument that was enough to give Rhiannon a pounding headache. No, the warriors wouldn’t allow the witches near the Fomorii no matter what form the demons were in. Yes, the witches insisted they damn well would help.

  “Enough,” Hannah said in her cultured but authoritative voice, loud enough to be heard over the din. She brushed a shock of blond hair to the side of her face so that it rested against her otherwise dark brown locks. Surprisingly, the group went quiet.

  “We have consistently proven ourselves in battle,” she continued, “and you still treat us as if we can’t cast a spell without your aid, for Anu’
s sake.” Her chocolate brown eyes scanned the faces of the crowd. “We will assist in the search for the Fomorii and Ceithlenn, and that’s the end of the discussion.”

  The men started to grumble but Rhiannon stated in a loud, clear voice, “This is bullshit. We work together on this, and that’s final.”

  After more discussion and a lot of planning, everyone gradually left the common room until Rhiannon was alone. She needed alone right now.

  She curled up on the couch, braced one elbow on the padded armrest, and rested her chin in her palm. Spirit silently jumped into her lap and rubbed up against her belly. With her free hand she scratched behind his ears and he rumbled his approval in his deep purr.

  Rhiannon couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier. The fact that the Shadows had reacted to Keir when she’d been angry at him was like a toothpick poking at her mind.

  She hadn’t had to fight against the darkness for so long she couldn’t remember the last time. Certainly not since she was very young. She’d kept control over the Shadows, mentally locking them in a box inside her, the key thrown away.

  But now … it was as if the key had been found … and the box opened.

  How? Why?

  Ever since Aunt Aga had caught Rhiannon playing with the Shadows as a child, she’d known they were something horrid that had to be kept hidden.

  Aga had screamed at Rhiannon. Had yelled about the demons inside her and how she should be thrown onto the street even though she’d only been five years old at the time.

  One of the Shadows, reacting to Aga’s screaming, had jumped on her and tried to throttle her.

  Aunt Aga had choked and wheezed. Her face turned purple and her eyes bulged.

  As that innocent little five-year-old, Rhiannon had cried and begged the Shadow to stop. After a few moments, the Shadow paused, then dropped Aunt Aga, who’d collapsed like an unwatered plant withering in the sun. The Shadow shot back inside Rhiannon, along with the other four Shadows she’d been playing with.

  At that time, the Shadows didn’t hurt when they were inside her. They felt warm and comfortable, just like when she hugged her favorite rag doll.

  But she’d learned an important lesson that day that she never forgot. The Shadows were inside her, but she could never let them out again.

  For a while, when she was still young, one would escape now and then and her little heart would pound as she demanded it to go back to sleep. Finally, she became so strong magically that no matter how hard the Shadows tried to come out, she’d been able to keep them tucked away. Locked inside that small box with no key.

  Rhiannon swallowed hard. Somehow the key had been found and the box opened.

  And she had a horrible feeling it had something to do with Ceithlenn.

  When Keir reached the door to the electrical room, he paused. By the gods. He had been so focused on the situation at hand, and on that witch, he had forgotten about Galia. He had meant to ask the half-Elvin witch Cassia to help him send the imp of a Faerie back to Otherworld.

  He paused, his hand above the doorknob. Galia would no doubt be ready to fly past him the moment he opened the door—if he gave her a chance.

  With his gaze he measured the door. He was tall enough that his head nearly reached the top of the door frame. All he had to do was open the door wide enough for his body to slide through and then slam the door behind him.

  Keir shook his head. This was absurd.

  He opened the door in one quick motion, slipped through, and slammed it behind him.

  His jaw nearly dropped in surprise.

  Not a smudge of dirt or hint of dust remained in the room. It smelled of lilacs.

  He searched the room with his gaze and found Galia sitting on one of the metal boxes against the wall—a box that was no longer rusted, but looked new. Everything in the room looked new.

  The little Faerie sat on the edge of the box with her hands braced to either side of her and her legs crossed at the ankles. Her long blond hair hung over her breasts and her green eyes were clear and bright.

  “Well?” She tilted her head, obviously expecting some kind of praise.

  Keir wanted to be gruff with her, but this was not the moment to yell at the imp. He was not enthralled by the smell of lilacs, but the clean room was a pleasant surprise.

  “Thank you.” His voice was rough despite his attempt to sound grateful.

  Galia pushed off from the top of the metal box and fluttered right in front of his face. She crossed her arms over her chest as though she expected a better response.

  Then her face brightened as she giggled and swooped around the room. “It looks much better, does it not?”

  “Aye.” Keir gave a curt nod. “I am grateful, little wench.”

  “Wench?” Galia snorted, then stopped fluttering to hover close enough for him to reach. She wrung her hands and gave him a pleading expression. “You would not send me back now, D’Danann, would you?”

  Instead of grabbing the Faerie, Keir sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Godsdamnit. I cannot have you staying with me—it is dangerous for you here. You must return.”

  Galia rolled her pretty green eyes. “My magic is enough to protect me.” She gestured to the room. “Cleaning this place is only a small measure of what I can do.” She fluttered closer. “I am not as silly as you think I am.”

  At that absurd statement Keir crossed his arms. “The ability to clean a room with your magic will not protect you from what is out there. A being beyond evil exists in this city, a being that would swallow you whole in the time it would take you to throw up a shield. A shield that would never be powerful enough to protect you in the first place.”

  “I will stay out of the way.” Galia’s sad expression touched his heart in a manner he had not expected. “Please?”

  With another sigh, Keir scrubbed his hand over his face again. For a moment he studied the mischievous Faerie. “For a short time.” He could not believe the words were coming from his mouth. “I will allow you to see this Otherworld, and then you must return home.”

  Galia’s face lit up and she swooped around the room, giggling and leaving pink dust and the scent of lilacs in her wake.

  When she came to a stop she was smiling and excitement shone in her eyes. “I want to see it now. Can I please?”

  Keir braced one of his hands on a wall and looked down at the floor before looking at the imp again. “If you stay out of sight and obey me. If I tell you to hide, you will comply. You must avoid Ceithlenn and the Fomorii at all costs.” He shook his head. “Do not let the other D’Danann know you are here.”

  His comrades would never let him live it down if they knew a Faerie had crossed the veil to San Francisco with him—and he had allowed her to stay.

  “Can we go now?” She bounced up and down in the air so fast it almost made Keir dizzy.

  He shook his head with exasperation and dug into his haversack. He pulled out a long, black coat that he wore to hide his weapons when out among the people of this city. “In my pocket,” he said after he shrugged into the coat. “Stay out of sight until we are in the air.”

  Galia laughed in obvious delight and in a flash was in his right pocket. Her little hands clung to the edge of the material as she peeked out.

  “Down,” he ordered and she immediately disappeared from sight.

  Keir stalked out of the now spotless electrical room and shut the door behind him. His sword banged against his leg as he headed up to the rooftop.

  When he reached the small garden area, cool air brushed his face along with the scent of the ocean mingling with the city’s countless smells.

  Keir’s black wings magically pushed through the coat, unfurled, and spread wide. He flapped his large wings and took to the air with the ease of his people, and vanished from human sight.

  “Now?” came Galia’s muffled voice from his pocket.

  “Aye,” Keir said as he soared over the city.

  He glanced down and saw the
Faerie peek her head out of his pocket as he flew from the Haight-Ashbury district toward the bay.

  “In all of Otherworld, I have never seen such incredible sights as these,” she said with wonder in her voice. Her eyes were wide and filled with delight and she wore a broad smile. “May I fly with you?”

  Keir found the corner of his mouth twitching and he had the absurd desire to laugh. He forced the feelings back. “Can you keep up?”

  In response, Galia flew out of his pocket and zipped along beside him, pink Faerie dust in her wake. “This is amazing,” she said in a breathless voice.

  Keir turned his attention to his task. “We must attempt to scent out the Fomorii. They have a rotten fish stench when in their natural form.”

  He glanced at the Faerie and saw her wrinkle her nose.

  He almost smiled again, then gave a low growl. What was the matter with him? First he was obsessing over a witch who had literally driven him to his knees, and now he was almost enjoying Galia’s company.

  Choosing to ignore her, he swept low over the city, focused on scenting out the demons. Unless the Fomorii had all taken over human host bodies, he and his comrades should be able to track them down—unless something blocked their odor.

  Keir frowned and swooped lower, weaving his way around buildings and above vehicles, and avoiding the wiring that crisscrossed Market Street. When he reached the bay, he drank in the scent of brine and felt more moisture against his face from the fog rolling in.

  The entire time Keir searched for the demons, Galia chattered and giggled so much that he was tempted to shove her back into his pocket and keep her there.

  Chapter 6

  This had better work.

  If not, she was going to kill Mackenzie.

  Rhiannon tugged down on her very short skirt and prayed she wouldn’t wobble in her obscenely high heels when she was summoned. She was used to wearing her comfortable and colorful clothing, not a pastel pink button-up blouse that was too snug and gaped to allow a view of her ample cleavage. Not to mention a matching tight miniskirt that molded to her curves and darn near showed her underwear when she sat down. She liked short, but give me a freaking break.