by Joy Nash
Exhaling, she laid down the receiver. When Amber got that message, she’d be frantic. Christine couldn’t think of that now, though. She had to get to Inverness. And to do that, she had to get off the island.
She left the office, leaving the door open and the light on to illuminate her path. She continued to the far end of the corridor, where she almost missed the hidden door concealing a winding stair that led downward into a murky light. The scent of the sea rose to greet her, along with the blessed sound of surf slapping against rock.
The stair gave out onto a flat slab sheltered by a domed cavern. The arched opening beyond looked out to the sea and a crude dock. Two longboats with dragon prows were tied to posts.
A short distance away, a wooden platform was suspended over her head by a creaking network of ropes and pulleys. The primitive elevator was lowering slowly, revealing an opening in the cavern ceiling. It hit the ground with a thud. A dozen brownies scampered off, followed by Pearl. Christine watched as Kalen’s housekeeper herded the brownies onto one of the boats, bullying and scolding and generally making sure all her charges boarded safely.
When the last brownie had stepped off the dock, Pearl put her fingers in her mouth and summoned a shrill whistle. Immediately, two brawny mermen surfaced and donned the harnesses attached to the vessel.
“All ready,” Pearl told him. “There’s only the human witch left. Kalen will come for her himself.”
The mermen nodded. Pearl surveyed the dock with an air of finality. Christine shrank into the shadows, but not before the housekeeper’s gaze narrowed dangerously.
“You. What are you doing here?”
Christine stepped into the light. “I’m leaving,” she said. “I have to get to Kalen.”
“The master bade ye stay.”
“The master needs my help. He’s going to battle a demon, for the gods’ sake!”
Pearl regarded her impassively. “He’s an Immortal. ’Tis what he was born to do. Ye came here wanting to bring him into the war, did ye not? Ah, but ye wanted him to fight in America, for humans, is that it? Ye canna stand the thought of him battling for magical creatures and half-breeds.”
“No! That’s not true. It’s Kalen—he’s doomed, even if he wins the fight. Because of Uni’s sentence.” Pearl’s blank expression said clearly she didn’t know what Christine was talking about. Quickly, she explained the restriction Kalen’s mother goddess had put on him, and the consequences should he disobey. Pearl’s expression turned horrified.
“He never told me,” the housekeeper said. “I thought he was just weary of the world. Disgusted with modern humans.” Her sharp eyes cut to Christine. “He has every right to be, ye know.”
“I know. But that hardly matters now. I need to find him.” She climbed aboard the last boat. “May the Goddess speed your trip to Annwyn.”
Pearl snorted. “What would a half-breed like me do in that realm? I’ll nae be running through the Gates with all those cowards. I’m headed elsewhere.”
Christine looked at her in surprise. “Where?”
“Ah, an’ I’ve not worked out that bit yet. But if the death magic is advancing, the followers of life will have to take a stand sometime. If there’s a battle to come, I want a part in it. Goddess knows my magic’s not much good in a fight, but warriors have to eat, don’t they? I can cook up a meal to keep their bellies full and their arms strong.”
“Do you think you could get all the way to Seattle?” Christine asked.
“The United States?” Pearl replied with a good bit of suspicion. “Why? What’s goin’ on there?”
“Kalen’s older brother, Adrian, is forming an army. I’m sure they could use a good cook.”
Pearl’s substantial chest puffed out even more. “I can do right by them.”
Christine nodded. “Good. Tell Adrian and Amber I sent you.”
“Aye, that I will.” Pearl smiled then, her gray teeth huge in her wide mouth. “Ye know, I might have to revise my opinion of ye, lass. Ye’re not half bad.” She paused, growing sober again. “Take care of Kalen, will ye?”
“I’ll try.”
Pearl gave a signal to the mermen. They dove. A moment later, the boat pulled from the dock. Christine watched it go; then, trailing her finger in the cold sea water, she drew a series of gentle circles. Her water magic swirled around the boat. A moment later, the vessel left the dock, cutting a sleek line through the water.
The sky was dark and the waves huge. A storm was brewing. The boat pitched up over a swell, then down, into the valley between two waves. Christine grasped the edge of the craft, hoping it wouldn’t tip over. But she wasn’t unduly frightened—not by the sea. It was a part of her. She closed her eyes, absorbing the power of the ocean.
The current was swift. It left her boat on the shore a short distance from the refugee camp, in a smooth cove sheltered by rocky hills on either side. She stepped out onto the shore about fifty yards from a large contingent of faeries. She’d covered her approach with a look-away spell; not one looked in her direction.
Turning west, she made her way along the shore until she reached the hard edge of Kalen’s circle of protection. Since it had been spelled mainly against death magic, to allow the refugees to enter, it didn’t prove much of a challenge to Christine. Scooping up a handful of seawater, she murmured a spell and stepped through it. All she felt was a gentle tingle flowing over her body.
She was free.
She headed up the cliffs and found the road. Her quickest route to Inverness would be to hitch a ride. Easier said than done—the road was deserted. She trudged for over a mile before she heard the drone of a car engine.
She turned eagerly, thumb out. The car was a battered Land Rover, one that looked like it had actually spent some time off-road. The driver was an elderly man, certainly harmless looking. The gent rattled to a stop, leaned over, and popped open the passenger-side door.
His accent was thick Scots. “Where ye be goon, lass?”
“Inverness.”
“Weel, I’m heided tha’ way meself.”
Christine climbed in with a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said, fastening her seat belt. She turned back to the driver. “I—” The words died on her lips. The elderly Scot was gone.
In his place was a redheaded Sidhe female.
Leanna’s red lips thinned into a mirthless smile. “Why, if it isn’t Kalen’s little witch. You really should be more careful. I’ve heard hitchhiking can be very dangerous.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The enchantment to reveal the Gates of Annwyn was a long and complicated bit of spellcraft, courtesy of the Sidhe queen herself. Mac’s mother abhorred intruders, and she’d taken every precaution to avoid any nasty surprises in Annwyn. Those magical creatures who chose to live in the human world understood they had limited access to their homeworld—apart from Niniane and Lir, only Mac and a handful of his high-placed aunts and uncles were entrusted with the opening spell to the Gates.
Mac’s concentration stretched to its limits as he delineated each successive element of the spell. First protections had to be drawn, then the elements called: earth, air, fire, and water. After that, Mac invoked the spirits of the Sidhe ancestors who had traveled permanently to the West. Once all these preliminaries were in place, he spoke the Invocation, ending in the Word of Revelation.
Green mist swirled from the place where the ocean met the shore. Mac lifted his hand, chanting Niniane’s complex spellforms under his breath. The mist rose slowly from beach to sky, scattering a trail of sparks. The sparkling points of light coalesced, shifting and gathering into glittering lines, swirls, highlights and shadows. The foundations of two giant piers took shape.
The slow process of forming the great gateway had begun.
Mac stepped back, rolling the kinks out of his neck. The Gate wouldn’t be completely solid and able to be used by the throng of refugees until dawn. And since the spell was a self-limiting one, the passage would remain open only for
a few hours. The refugees would have to pass under the archway quickly before it collapsed.
He let out a long, slow breath, his gaze traveling over the host of magical creatures on the shore. Their faces were full of trust; Mac sorely hoped that sentiment wasn’t misplaced. A lot could happen in one night.
He rejoined Ronan and Niall. The pair exchanged a look, and then, with a sigh, Ronan faced Mac.
Mac felt a tingle of alarm. “What is it now?”
Ronan cleared his throat. “We didn’t want to bother you with this before you set the gate spell, but…”
“But what?”
“It’s probably nothing,” Niall cut in. “But we thought you should know.”
“What is it?”
Niall’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure, Mac. Like I said, probably nothing. Things have been mostly quiet, no sign of any death magic.”
Mac expelled a sharp breath. He didn’t have time for his cousins’ meandering. He was worried that Kalen would try to take on the Old One alone. There was no way Mac was going to allow that. He couldn’t linger here. “Just spit it out, mate.”
Ronan cut in. “Niall was looking out over the sea, just about there.…”
He pointed in the direction of Kalen’s castle, looming on the horizon across a blue swath of ocean. Nothing looked amiss.
Mac crossed his arms. “And?”
Niall scratched his head. “And there was this crinkly spot, you know? Like what happens sometimes when someone’s casting a glamour or a look-away?”
“Did you check it out?”
“Of course,” replied Ronan testily. “What do you take us for?”
Mac let that one pass. “Did you find anything?”
“A boat. One of Kalen’s. Beached on a cove about a half mile west. Not that that’s a problem in itself—we’ve been evacuating the castle most of the day, brought off nearly fifty brownies in about a dozen boats. But this one? It was shielded with glamour, and only one set of footprints led from it. And not to the gathering place, either. The tracks went in the opposite direction, right through Kalen’s protection and onto the road.”
Mac’s attention abruptly focused. “Male or female tracks?”
“Female. Too big to be a brownie. Human, most likely. Though she’d have to be pretty powerful to get through Kalen’s wards.”
A very unwelcome thought formed in Mac’s brain. “But you didn’t see anyone? Anyone at all?”
Ronan shook his head. “No. Niall and I, we scouted about. There was nothing. It’s like the intruder just vanished.” He shifted. “You want me to do anything else?”
“No. I’ll take care of it.”
With a growing sense of dread, Mac jogged up the beach to the abandoned boat. Definitely one of Kalen’s. An aura of water magic clung to it.
Christine.
He traced her footsteps to the road. A subtle trail of magic continued along the pavement for about a mile, then abruptly disappeared. Mac spent one precious hour circling ahead, trying to reconnect with the trail. It was no use.
Kalen’s witch had vanished without a trace.
Leanna sat with one hand on the steering wheel as she sped down the road at a reckless speed, barely looking where she was going. She exuded an air of triumph. And of anticipation.
She was dressed much the same way she’d been on the sex magic tour—black corset and gartered stockings, with matching stilettos. Her bright hair was gelled and slicked back around her pointed ears. Her wrists were wrapped in white gauze bandages. A faint odor of brimstone seemed to seep from her skin.
She looked at Christine and laughed. The next instant her pale eyes went as red as her hair.
Christine’s heart pounded into her throat. As a demon’s whore, Leanna served as a conduit for dark powers beyond her own magic. Christine scrabbled to open the car door, but the handle wouldn’t lift. Of course it didn’t. Leanna had planned this. She was trapped.
The Sidhe made a subtle gesture with her forefinger. Christine shrank back in her seat, but there was nothing she could do to avoid the spell. She felt it hit. At first there was no effect beyond a curious numbness. No pain, no fatigue, no urge to cry out. Then a low buzz filled her ears and her senses seemed to amplify. She became hyperaware—of the vibration of the car, the abrasion of the upholstery under her fingertips, the soft, threatening rumble of Leanna’s laughter. Even the faraway churning of the sea as the Rover rushed along the shore road. The sensations were unnerving. Cold sweat broke out on her brow. Her breath grew shallow.
She tried to speak and found the slightest sound took incredible effort. Tried to lift her arms, but her hands were as heavy as boulders. Panic clawed at her throat. Without use of her hands and voice, she couldn’t perform magic.
Leanna broke into a hearty laugh. “A taste of your own medicine, my sweet. A binding spell. But this time, you’re the prisoner.”
She drove on for a short stretch of road, then left the pavement to drive a considerable distance over a rocky field. Christine glimpsed Leanna’s burly ogre half-breed standing between two large, lichen-covered boulders. He advanced before the Rover reached a full halt and flung the passenger door open.
He was carrying a heavy blanket. Even before he threw it over Christine’s head, nausea threatened to raise the contents of her stomach. The blanket was a lead shield, the kind X-ray technicians used. The weight settled atop her, its burn seeping through her skin and into her bones and muscles. Pain screamed in every nerve ending. The little magic Christine still clung to drained right out of her body.
And Leanna laughed.
Leanna’s suite at the Palace was dark and empty.
Kalen swore. He’d arrived in Inverness early, Uni’s crystal spear in hand, hoping to force the issue. He found the city in a panic. A series of explosions, both mundane and magical, had ripped through town a scant hour earlier. Water, electricity, and telephone service had utterly failed. Zombies and minor demons roamed the streets, looking for victims. No doubt the vamps would join them once the sun went down. Humans and life magic creatures had either fled or gone to ground. Leanna’s demon master had to have had a hand in this.
A quick search of the suite revealed a faded stench of death in Leanna’s dressing room, but no sign of any active death magic spells. Kalen propped Uni’s crystal spear against the wall and sank down on one of the twin zebrastriped leather sofas. The sun would set in one hour. Mac would be here before then.
Fifteen seconds later, he was on his feet again, spear in hand, prowling the edges of the room like a caged panther. He scowled at the dead phone. Waiting was hell. Had the whole arrangement been a scam, designed to distract him?
He thought not. Leanna wanted his child with a rare desperation. For the first time, he allowed himself to think more deeply on why that might be. Her earlier explanation of presenting the child to Niniane had certainly been a lie. He was equally sure her true purpose had something to do with death magic. A babe with an immortal soul—could it be that Leanna had found a way to take that soul for herself?
The horror of that prospect was overwhelming. Soul stealing. From an innocent babe. The child would die an empty husk.
Kalen shifted on his feet, his anger rising by slow degrees with every passing second. Would Leanna ever appear? Or would he have to hunt her down?
She would be here. She wanted his child. Wanted an immortal soul. To gain it, she’d have to seek him out. He took up a position by the window, in sight of the door, and waited.
Leanna’s half-breed goon tossed Christine over his shoulder like a sack of dog food. Half suffocated by the lead blanket, feeling as though her soul was being consumed by slow, unforgiving fire, Christine could only squeeze her eyes shut and endure.
Her captor descended an uneven slope, jostling her against his shoulder. He passed through some kind of portal and a flash of green elflight filtered through a gap in the lead blanket. She heard a door thud, then silence as the outside world faded. The faint smell of rich loam re
ached her nostrils.
The half-breed’s heavy footsteps, and Leanna’s lighter ones, paced for what seemed to be a long time. Finally, they came to a halt. Another door opened, then shut behind them.
“Dougal,” Leanna ordered. “Release her.”
Dougal obeyed, dumping Christine unceremoniously on hard ground. She bit back a cry of pain. Rough hands tugged at the blanket, liberating her head and shoulders but keeping her arms tightly bound. Christine gulped in a lungful of cool air. Leanna’s face appeared in her line of vision, a cruel smile on her lips.
Christine turned her head, her cheek pressed to the ground. Slowly, her gaze focused on her surroundings. She lay on the ground near a tall standing stone. Before her, bathed in the last rays of the setting sun, rose the cairn stage where Leanna had conducted her sex magic tour. But that site was near Inverness, a full twenty miles from Kalen’s castle.
“We traveled by faerie barrow,” Leanna said in reply to Christine’s unspoken question. “Much more efficient than the Land Rover. It would have been even quicker if my do-good brother didn’t have hordes of creatures streaming through the barrow nearest the Gates. But no worries. We’re here now.”
Leanna watched with an amused expression as Christine tried to struggle into a sitting position. With her arms and legs bound by the noxious blanket, the attempt was futile. After a few minutes, she was forced to concede defeat and lower herself back to the earth.
Leanna chuckled. “Uncomfortable? Enjoy it while you can. By the time we’re done here, your present distress will be only a fond memory.”
Christine couldn’t suppress an overwhelming spurt of terror. “You’re practicing death magic,” she gasped. “Dealing with demons.”
“Power, my dear, is wherever the strong find it.”
“Death magic will destroy you. Suck every bit of youth and beauty from your—”
“Silence!”
Christine grunted as Leanna’s heel came down, grinding the lead blanket into her ribs. A hot blade of fire pierced her chest.