by Billi Jean
“Circerran, are you certain three of you are enough? What if Gideon has his own witches, like the coven we fought in Alaska?” Bryson asked.
Circerran raised her crimson eyebrows and tilted her head to the side. “That would be Emerald’s coven. And yes, she’s safe, if that’s your next question. But what if he does have a coven of witches? What is it you think he will do? Possess his body once he kills Agatha?”
“Exactly. If he kills Agatha—”
“How will he find her?” Aubrey asked, stepping forward and setting down a small book she had been studying. “She is hidden, aye?”
“She is, but there are no—”
“Guarantees in this world, got the memo.” Circerran pinned her clover-green gaze on Isobel and she breathed out through her nose. “So, Isobel. What do you think? Is Gideon going to find Agatha? Or should I say, can you find Agatha?”
“Why would she—”
“Bryson.” Isobel tightened her hold on his sleeve. Since the arrival of the four he had been anxious. “I know where she is, or in what direction.”
Rowan nodded. “Because you were given the task of freeing your brother, I see. So you believe Gideon, because his task is the same, can also sense her.” Rowan sounded impressed.
Aubrey nodded. “Aye. Gideon is a wee bit more hard pressed. He wants this woman dead, and when he does this, then he is free, eh?”
“Not exactly.” Rowan stepped forward politely. Bryson had already introduced everyone but Rowan still bowed his head. “Aubrey. If my brother kills Agatha, then he will have to kill Warren. Only then can he can claim his body. Since Samuel is no longer here to aid him, I assume he will have another appointed to this task.”
“Someone he can trust to do as he asks,” Emerald said when there was a pause. “It could be the coven in France. They are connected to the Scarlet.”
“But the Scarlet has been disbanded,” Bryson commented. “Are you saying that some of them are free to roam?”
“I am. Not everyone has been brought before the Coven Congress.” Emerald ducked her head nervously and her side braid slipped down her shoulder. “Many are still to be found.”
“And these witches could be the ones that aid Gideon,” Circerran confirmed. “They will aid him in bringing his body back and help him possess it once more with his spirit. But to do this, a sacrifice will have to be made. It will not be enough to kill the members of this council who killed him. He will need to appease the…darker forces, shall I say? Then, if he succeeds, his body will again be his own.”
“Is this what your brother wished?” Aubrey asked Isobel.
Bryson held in a curse. Isobel’s claws in his arm had a great deal to do with that.
“No. My brother wanted his soul free to move on, with his bonded, to the next existence. He did not want to lose Tessa, nor chance never seeing her again and being lost without her.”
“Ah.” Aubrey drummed her fingers on the table.
No one spoke until Circerran kicked the chair next to Aubrey. “Well?”
Aubrey sniffed but folded her arms over her chest. She was dressed in pale blue jeans, soft-looking and comfortable, with a long cable-knit sweater of deepest blue. A white blouse peeked out at the bottom and collar and she wore brown, scuffed but well-loved boots on her feet. She was beautiful, with her hair loosely held away from her face and flowing down her back. Even her creamy complexion was beautiful. All three witches were.
‘And? You are more so.’
‘You pry into my thoughts?’
Bryson laughed through their link. ‘Not pry. But I cannot stand the distance.’
“I think,” Aubrey stressed the word think for some reason, “our worry should no’ be whether Gideon kills Agatha or no’, but when she will die.”
“I agree. She has suffered much,” Rowan answered. “If she ends her life, as we worry she will, then can Gideon still use her death to satisfy his conditions?”
“Only if he spreads her ashes and throws her spirit to the wind,” Isobel cautioned. “He must do this in order for her to be truly dead.”
“I fear he will do this, Isobel. What will stop him?” Rowan asked. “Only if we reach her, stop her and wait, will we be able to prevent it.”
“Then that is what we will do.” Jack stood away from the desk he’d been leaning on. Isobel had almost forgotten the once-human now half-Vampire half-Lykae was there. “We will move her, secure the location, and wait. If Gideon comes, then that is just as well. We end him there, if that serves?” He turned to Rowan, showing no fear of the elder as he held his gaze.
Rowan studied him in turn. She could tell that Rowan wasn’t certain what to think of the man, both because he was bonded to a witch and because of his mixed blood. But to Rowan’s credit, her mentor weighed the facts. “If we can save Agatha, it would be well. If Gideon is killed, it will be better. At the least we can attempt to force him from Warren, but if the chance arises to end his existence then we should take it.”
Jack nodded, once, sharply as if Rowan had done the right thing. For some reason, her mentor stood straighter after.
‘His guilt is heavy.’
‘He has nothing to be guilty over.’
‘But he believes he does, my love.’
‘Just as you felt over me?’
Bryson sent her warmth and love so deep she felt tears sting her throat. ‘All I know is that he is a good man and his brother is not. We will help him survive this. Or perhaps he will survive on his own.’
‘He is strong.’
Circerran rubbed her hands together. “Fine, then we have a plan. I suggest we find a location that is easy to fortify. Jack, you can deal with that. And we’d better call in Jamie. He’s going to flip his lid.”
Jack grinned. “No doubt. He thought we’d ended this craziness, but he needs to know, Bryson. ASAP.”
“That means now,” Circerran said to Isobel “In case you don’t get the lingo yet. So,” Circerran added, walking over, “you can break spells, huh? How long will it take Gid to break one if we make it really, really complicated?”
“It depends on how complicated.” Isobel started when Circerran dropped her arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the central table. “What are you doing?”
“We thought we’d figure this out with you, while they contact, then deal with Jamie and Elsa freaking out over their pup.”
‘Their pup?’
“Circerran means over Faolan. The boy is dear to them,” Aubrey supplied. “He will come, as well. Unless he is sent to stay with Samantha and Derrick.”
Isobel blinked.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I am not certain.’
‘They mean you no harm.’
‘Are you…laughing at me?’
Complete silence from Bryson was her answer. She narrowed her eyes at him, but oddly enough, he wouldn’t glance over.
“Who are Samantha and Derrick?” Emerald asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs and drawing her legs up to her chest. “I’ve never heard of either of them.”
“Samantha is part-Jade. She is married to Derrick, brother to the Lykae king, Alrick. They have a son, around Faolan’s age.” Circerran dropped her arm and sat down as well, gesturing for Isobel to join her. “Sit down. So, what I’m thinking is we—”
Sirens, the scream of them so loud Isobel covered her ears, was their only warning before thick black smoke filled the room. Shrieks rent the air. Through her bond with Bryson she felt something like a blow, then complete silence and the absence of him entirely, as if he had never been there. But now there was nothing, a huge nothingness that brought her to her knees, where for a brief, shining moment in her life there had been warmth and love. A rush of panic had her gaining her feet and with a shout of her own, she flung the table out of her way to face the enemy. Only all there was to face was billowing swirls of black smoke.
“Show yourselves!”
She thought she heard Circerran shout and a green light blas
ted on her left. To her right, a steady blue glow appeared, closer to her, warming her side, but nowhere did she see Bryson or Rowan. Her panic deepened. Out of the smoke a woman dressed in a flowing scarlet gown appeared. Whiter than snow with long black hair that hung silkily down to her thighs, she strode forward as if walking on air. Flames flashed in her eyes, circling where her irises should have been.
“What have you done to Bryson?” Isobel drew her sword from the air. The hilt reassured her when mist and shadows swirled all around her. She could sense the witches battling, knew by the cries and curses that they were, but she couldn’t see them. Help them. Don’t lose focus. Bryson! Rowan! Where are you?
The witch stopped scant feet from her. The temptation to strike her down was enormous. She knew this woman. Could feel the spells seep into her pores from centuries before when she had been trapped by her, or another like her.
“You want him, don’t you?”
“If you wish to live you will answer me.” Isobel drew a deep breath and steadied herself. Never again. Can’t be taken. Never again.
“Is that so? Well, my dear, you have grown bold. But you see, you have it all wrong. If you want him to live, you will come with me. Now.” Fire rose in her eyes and with it, heat blossomed all along Isobel’s front.
There was no other choice.
I can’t lose him. Jorge, help me now. Help me save you and my heart, Bryson.
She took the witch’s hand. Scorching pain exploded from where they touched to encompass her entire being. Heat that should have melted her skin from her bones caused such agony she couldn’t even scream it was so intense. But with it, something else struck her so that the pain diminished and a soothing, calming presence crept over her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Darkness surrounded Bryson, a black so thick he couldn’t penetrate it. After a moment he realized why. He was hooded. A cloth smelling of old gym socks covered his face, brushing against his chin as if it fluttered in the wind. It wasn’t a breeze, more like a typhoon, wet and strong, gusting over his entire body.
Have they hung me up like a mermaid on a ship?
Over the wind, he heard something clanking then thudding softly near him. The horrible cloth prevented him from inhaling too deeply. His senses were limited but worse, his link with Isobel was gone. Severed or merely muffled? Does it matter? He was tied tightly. There was more rope around him then there were places without rope. So whoever held him was frightened of him. Not Gideon, then.
Witches.
It had to be, but until they revealed themselves, there was little he could do—yet. They’d used spells as well as the rope. He tested the intricate magic, finding little give in the complicated knots. The patterns shone bright scarlet, like spilled blood, and at his push, a painful ache began in his skull.
There were no voices. For that, he was grateful.
The wind hit harder, blasting him with freezing cold water. Ocean. I’m either on a boat or on the shore, or an island.
The reasoning didn’t help. At the next blustery wash of wind, he shook his head and felt the hood lift with the breeze. It fell back down, but he got a glimpse of something that made him realize how little time he had.
Sunrise.
Fuck! Think. Think. Icy wind. Tied down. Spells. Think! He pushed against the spells, forcing more pain to rebound through his head. It felt as if someone was hammering nails through his skull. He expected warm blood to flow from his forehead. Another gust and he tried to toss the hood off again. The material fucked with him. Shouting—since they’d not bound his mouth—he cursed the situation and the gods.
“Dude! I thought Jamie swore!”
Bryson sagged in relief for a second—that was all he was given. Shouts, Jamie, Elsa, someone he didn’t know, sounded around him. He thought he heard a woman screaming, then for certain, he did, along with others in unison. Pain rushed his flesh as if he were being flayed alive. Suddenly, the ropes were cut and he fell, still caught in the pain, to his side.
The hood was ripped off. Elsa. Her big gray eyes were narrowed and her face paler than normal, but he’d never been so happy to see anyone in his life. The wind whipped her long blonde hair around them both, partially blocking his view, but all around him the ocean blasted into what looked like an iceberg.
“Bryson, come on, we have to go. Faolan is here. Jamie is holding them!” She turned and slid her hand through a woman coming at her from behind, ripping the witch’s heart out and flinging it to the ground before he could manage to move. It skidded, bright crimson and wet, along the icy snow, leaving a trail of gore behind before it fell out of sight and into the ocean. Elsa grabbed his shirtsleeve and shook the material. “Bryson! Get up!”
He held in the curses and concentrated on gaining his feet.
“Bryson, what’s wrong?”
He shoved to his knees, saw Faolan half-hiding half-peering out from behind a concrete shed, then Jamie came into view. The big wolf took the head off a witch who’d been staring at Bryson. When the woman collapsed forward, the pain surging along Bryson’s back and shoulders disappeared slowly. He managed to rise to his feet with Elsa pulling on his arm. “Where are we?”
“We have no idea. Faolan was upset. He dragged us here. It looks like the middle of the Arctic to me.” Elsa tossed her hair off her eyes and squinted at him. “It’s a good thing we listened to him, too. Come on, unless you want to fry with the dawn.”
The wind brought another salty spray at them, drenching him and soaking Elsa, too. She was already wet, but the wave left her hair plastered to her skull and down her back. She shook her arms and hands, looking even more pissed off, if possible. “Seriously?”
Faolan raced to him, hugging him hard around the middle. He didn’t have the energy to do more than groan at the tight embrace. Jamie walked up, taking off his jacket as he did and wrapping Elsa in it. The frigid air had a bite to it that dug under Bryson’s skin.
“Bryson,” Jamie growled by way of greeting. “What’s this all about? Who are these witches?”
He used both hands to shove the water off his face before answering. Faolan was still holding on tightly. “Hey, Faolan, you wanna let up on the squeeze.” The boy did but only a little. For some reason, the child’s need for reassurance reassured Bryson, as well. “We’d better talk somewhere warmer. It’s the mess we were in before, though, with Samuel.”
Elsa paused from where she’d been giving Jamie back his coat. “What? What do you mean?”
Jamie caught her hand and put the coat right back on her shoulders. “Bryson?”
“You did good, Bryson.”
“Faolan?” Jamie said. “Did you know about this?”
He shook his head. “Not about the connection, no.”
“Connection to Samuel? But you knew Bryson was in trouble. And Isobel is the friend you made, the woman we’ve heard so much about?” Elsa asked.
“We have to go somewhere warmer and not so bright,” Jamie reminded them. “Where?”
Right now safety was relative. He wanted to go check on Rowan, but that would be suicide. “Do you remember where you first were bound, Elsa? The witch’s?”
“How could I forget?”
“Then we go there.”
Jamie nodded and curled Elsa up close to his chest. “Now. Faolan, go with Bryson. I want you there when we land. Got it?”
“Okay, Jamie. I will be.” Faolan sounded worried, so Bryson took his hand, trying to steady himself. Isobel was nowhere. Is she gone? The thought made his throat clench and his heart thud painfully.
“Don’t worry, Bryson. She is still here, with us.” Faolan rubbed his small hand over Bryson’s heart, soothing him.
“Let’s go.” Bryson accessed the nearing dawn. Elsa was gone when he looked back and Faolan was silent.
He traced them to the ruins of the witch’s house. Jamie was already standing with his hands on his hips, face tight with tension.
Elsa took Faolan’s hand and brought him closer to
her, but she wore an identical frown to her mate. “What’s going on? You said Samuel—”
“He might not have been the one running the show, Elsa. We think another is behind it, and if he is, then he will still want to get his hands on you.”
“We. Define ‘we’ for me, Bryson.” Jamie put a growl to his name Bryson was familiar with from other dealings with the man. Any hint at danger to Elsa, and the wolf was unreasonably protective. Now, with Isobel missing, Bryson could see why. Have to get to her. Have to find her.
Elsa took Jamie’s hand. “Jamie, please, this is all moving fast, let him explain.”
“Now would be good, since we haven’t heard any of this before,” Jamie snapped, but Elsa must have communicated something to him through their link because he exhaled heavily and brought her close to his chest. His shoulders relaxed. “All right, Bryson, explain this so we can find out what’s going on.”
Bryson nodded. He considered asking that Faolan go somewhere else, but one look at the boy in the protective circle of Elsa’s and Jamie’s arms, and he knew they’d never let him out of their sight. I had Isobel in mine and she is still missing. Think. Think.
He paced a few feet away then back. “I was meeting with Circerran and two witches. We were with Rowan, uncle to Aidan. He is the one who realized that one of our young Vampires, Warren, is his brother, Gideon. Gideon is the one that murdered an enter village. That crime was thought to be committed by Isobel’s brother, thus his execution and later what we thought was Isobel’s revenge, the killing of Aidan’s father.” He paused for breath and to check that they were following. Jamie nodded and Elsa did, as well. Faolan watched him solemnly. “We now know that Isobel made a promise to her brother not to interfere with his death. He had lost his bonded to Gideon in that village. To be with her again, a non-vampire, he had to join her in the next life. So,” he paused again, this time thinking it through. “Now, we have found Rowan, the head of an ancient sect, one Isobel was part of. He is the one aiding us. But, this is where I am lost. We were attacked. This is not only uncommon, since we were in Rowan’s home,” he ticked off the point with his finger, “but nearly impossible. It would have to be done by witches who not only knew where his home was, and it is well hidden, but how to breach his barrier. So…that means…” He paced away and back.