by Amber Kallyn
“I understand,” the man said softly. “If it were Niki lying there, I’d be lost myself.”
Connor leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Her skin burned so hot it hurt. He relished the pain. “I’ll be back soon, my darling. You’ll be all right. And I’ll find our son. Promise.”
She didn’t move, her death-like stillness making him grind his teeth to stop from raging about uselessly.
He had a job to do. He’d damn well do it.
Straightening, he strode out the door and down the hall, heading outside.
In the driveway, vampires of all ages circled around Brandon. The tall Viking warrior dwarfed the woman beside him. Nora spoke quietly, yet her voice carried as she laid out their strategy.
The woman moved energetically, her green eyes rimmed with vampire red. Revenge shone from that gaze. Flicking her red hair back, she used her enthusiasm to ramp up the crowd.
The surrounding vampires slowly changed from depressed, beaten creatures, to warriors ready to fight.
He’d need them. Each and every one. Laroche wouldn’t be getting away this time. He’d finally found his love, he’d be damned before he let her slip away again.
* * *
Ashlyn ran through darkness. Wind tore at her clothes and hair, while rain stung her skin. She couldn’t see, it was so dark.
She cried out names from the past, those who she still held close to her heart. Her voice echoed around her, never ending, blending into a cacophony of nonsense she could no longer understand.
Pain slashed through her chest as if someone was trying to rip out her soul. Laroche. He’d found her.
Was she once more chained in his dungeon, her powers being stolen?
Where was Sean?
She screamed his name, but couldn’t hear herself as her earlier cries grew louder, a thrumming uneven beat.
Fisting her hands over her ears, she closed her useless eyes and fell to her knees. A tingle of warmth kindled in her chest, her heart. She looked around, but the darkness was too complete.
Then she smelled him, spice and musk. “Connor?” she whispered.
The tiny flame in her chest grew, and over the screams of the echoes, she heard another voice, somewhat familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
The man spoke in a language she didn’t understand.
“O, ha le
O, ha le!
Awbizhaye
Shichl hadahiyago niniya
O, ha le
O, ha le
Tsago degi naleya
Ah—yu whi ye!”
His words penetrated the coldness inside her. The little flame grew stronger.
Images from the past few days flashed in her mind.
Connor, and his early anger. Then his confusion at realizing Sean was their son—a half demon vampire.
But above it all, the warmth creeping into her was from his touch, loving her, telling her to think to the future.
With him.
Family.
Love.
Desire.
Thinking of Connor filled her with heat, helping the growing flame melt the ice around her heart, her very soul.
The strange chanting became an echo of itself, drowning out her earlier cries. Lowering her hands, she listened close.
“Towards the sky, far, far, far,
O, ha le
O, ha le!
There to find the holy place,
Ah, now the change comes o’re me!
O, ha le
O, ha le!”
She might not understand all the words, but the magic flowing around her, through her, she knew well. The man was helping her reconnect to the earth and her own power.
Grabbing hold of the lifeline, she concentrated. Slowly, ever so slowly, the darkness began to flash here and there with the colors of natural magic.
A blue spark hovered in front of her face and she reached for it, capturing it in her cupped hands.
Connor’s face shone bright from the little ball of light. And her heart nearly burst from the warmth of the love in his eyes.
The ball spun, then spread out, lengthening into a long line she could follow.
The chanter whispered, “Come to me, witch. Use your strength. I alone cannot save you. You must help to save yourself.”
She rose to her feet and stumbled along the blue line. Then she stopped.
It could be a trap, Laroche leading her on a wild goose chase.
The man commanded again, “Witch. Come if you wish to live.”
His warmth surrounded her, flushing the last of the chills from her blood. Laroche was cold, not warm. His magic could never make her feel safe, not as this man’s did.
Making the decision, she once more followed the thin blue line. After what seemed an eternity of twists and turns, a dim light shone ahead. The blue line attached to a larger green sphere.
The man’s chanting grew louder, rhythmic, thumping in time to her heartbeat. In front of the green light, a bear stood, nearly eight feet tall. And in front of the bear, translucent and ghost-like, stood the sheriff. He didn’t wear his uniform, but instead, was bare chested, tattoos and paint covering his skin. His long, black hair flowed free, blowing from a wind she could no longer feel.
He held out his hand.
Reaching forward, she touched him.
The earth was ripped from her feet. She screamed as what felt like branding pokers burned every inch of her skin.
Shaking her head, mindless from the agony of the fire the sheriff led her through, she could do nothing but be dragged into the depths of hell.
The light went out, and darkness once more surrounded her.
Another voice, this one cold and all too familiar, whispered against her ear, “I have your precious son. Dare you save him?”
The world exploded with light. She blinked against the glare, then, realizing she was lying down, jerked up, ready to fight.
The sheriff knelt next to her on the bed in her room at Jordan’s home, bare chest painted, hair down, just as in her vision.
And behind him, almost like they were one, but separate at the same time, she saw the huge bear.
It looked at her, yawning and showing her a mouthful of dagger-like teeth. But she felt no fear.
This bear was kin. An earth spirit like those she could connect to with her magic.
She blinked and it was gone.
The sheriff opened his eyes, his face pale, lined from strain.
“What happened,” she asked, her voice cracking as if unused for years.
“The demon tried to steal your soul.”
Glancing around the empty room, she said, “I thank you greatly for saving me.”
“Glad to,” he replied, rising from the side of the bed to collapse in the nearest chair.
Ashlyn eyed the splintered remains of a different chair, then asked, “Where is everyone?”
Almost sleepy, the sheriff replied, “They left a couple hours ago to find Laroche.”
She blinked, as the demon’s words filled her mind. Her heart thumped in a panicky race. He had her son. And she knew how to find him.
The connection Laroche had started, trying to kill her, was still active. She could feel him.
“I know where he is,” she said.
The sheriff nodded. “Good. Let me call—”
She stumbled from the bed, her legs shaky. “Food. I need food.”
Shane pointed to the table by the bed and Ashlyn grabbed the first bag of blood, drinking it quickly before going on to the next. Behind her, the sheriff spoke on the phone.
She could hear Jordan’s voice on the other end, but didn’t bother paying attention to their words. Hunger ruled her as she devoured the sandwiches.
Strength and power flowed into her blood. Turning, she faced the sheriff.
“They want you to wait here.”
The link flared open even more and she could see the room Laroche was in. Sean stood against a wall, hands chained above his head. He scr
eamed as the demon slashed his back with a whip.
Blood from multiple wounds already across his back ran down his skin in rivulets of crimson.
She cried out, rushing for the door. “He has my son.”
“Wait,” the sheriff called.
Ignoring him, she raced from the house, fleeing into the woods, following her connection with the demon. She would find him, and this time, he would die.
For the decimation of their clan.
For all he’d done to her and Sean.
For taking them away from Connor.
Chapter Sixteen
Connor drove down the street, careened around the corner onto Jordan’s driveway, gunned the gas. His heart hadn’t stopped beating like crazy since Shane’s phone call.
Ashlyn was alive.
Safe.
He skidded to a stop in front of the castle and jumped out. His heart dropped at the sight of Shane staring into the forest.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
Shane glanced over, waving to the forest. “She’s following the connection to Laroche, I assume.”
“Why didn’t she wait for us, stubborn woman,” he growled, reaching in the truck for his katana and strapping it to his back.
Shane’s eyes nearly glowed. “She knows the demon has her son. She is a she-bear, going to defend her cub.”
Connor slid a belt of daggers around his waist, buckling it tight. “When Jordan arrives, let him know where we went.”
Without waiting for a response, he ran into the forest, breathing deep until he caught Ashlyn’s scent.
Then he raced after her.
He had to reach her before she found the demon. She might be a warrior, but the demon was pure evil and would use any trick he could to defeat her.
Connor wouldn’t allow that to happen. He might have failed them a thousand years ago, but this time, nothing—not even Ashlyn herself—would stop him from saving her and their son.
* * *
Ashlyn slowed as she approached the outskirts of a farm. The field between the dilapidated little house and the forest was completely bare, and lit by the coming dawn.
Already, she could feel her adrenaline-fueled strength beginning to flag, but she ignored it.
Sean was in there. So was Laroche.
And this damn thing was going to end, once and forever.
She stood quiet, still, until the birdsong filled the air once more, no longer wary of her passing. Then, calling to the earth, she took hold of the magic. As her vision changed to show the colored strands of power in the air, she caught sight of small creatures hiding between the trees and watching her.
Her magic infused with the feeling of utter peace and tranquility from the spirits of the forest.
Bowing her head toward them, she silently sent her thanks for their help, their acceptance, before wrapping a shroud of power around herself.
Then she strode across the empty field.
Lights burned in the windows of the house.
She hurried forward, her mind still dizzy from earlier, yet nothing would stop her from reaching Sean.
The field seemed to tilt as it filled with shadows. She smelled demons, vampires. Humans and wolf shifters.
They’d been hidden by Laroche’s dark magic.
Dozens of them gathered around her. She stopped, waiting as they drew closer.
Then she whipped her magic at the creatures in front of her. They flew back into the crowd, knocking others to the ground.
Amazed at what she’d just done, she tried it again. She raised her hands and sliced at the creatures with the colorful magic swirling around her. Screams filled the air as cuts opened over their skin and more of them stumbled away.
Caution and fear filled their eyes.
She watched the colors, raising her hands. “Get out of my way.” Her voice was loud, gritty.
Above her hands, she drew her magic in a tight swirling ball. It circled, glowing, casting a light over the field. Some of the creatures fell to the ground, covering their eyes as they cowered. Others eased back, drawing away and leaving a wide path to continue up to the house.
She walked slowly, watching for signs of attack, but there were none.
Reaching the steps, she slammed her magic against the door. With a boom, the wood fractured, blowing inward.
Ashlyn moved through the entryway, following her connection with Laroche up the stairs.
She pushed into a bedroom, stopping short at the sight of her poor son, passed out and hanging from the chains, his back painted red with blood.
“Laroche!” she screamed into the emptiness.
Behind her, the air whispered. She spun as a flash of silver crashed into her head.
Stumbling back, she nearly fell as dizziness filled her mind. Her connection to the magic slipped away.
* * *
Connor burst into an empty field, and raced for the house ahead. In the few shadows left from the rising sun, people hid, but he sensed them, smelled them anyway.
Jerking Akoukirito from its sheath, he advanced through the field. No one challenged him.
They could wait until later. Right now, he needed to find Ashlyn and Sean. He ran into the house, nearly stumbling over pieces of the shattered door.
Above, from the second floor, Ashlyn screamed the demon’s name.
Terror filled him and he bounded up the steps, crashing into a bedroom. With a quick glance, he took in Sean, unconscious and chained to the back wall. Ashlyn on the floor, on her knees. The demon standing in front of her, trying to drag her by her hair.
Connor leapt towards them, slashing his honed bladed at the demon’s exposed neck.
He blinked as the demon disappeared.
Ashlyn rubbed her head, glaring up at him.
“What?” he asked.
“You can’t kill him like that.”
“How the hell should I know that? It works on other demons.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be the big, bad demon hunter?” she replied, her tone sharp enough to cut. Rising to her feet, she held her hands at waist level, palms facing down to the floor. She whispered something he couldn’t make out.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled as powerful magic filled the air. All from Ashlyn. The air sparked around her, and her clothes and hair rippled as if she were surrounded by wind.
“Get Sean and get out of here,” he demanded.
She stared at him, unblinking, her eyes unfocused, the color drowned by blood red. Around the red, a thin band of black circled.
He’d never seen such a thing before. And deep inside, his gut trembled at the power around him, at the power in her gaze.
“I will not leave until Laroche is finished. You can not kill him on your own.”
Something slammed into his back and he stumbled forward, jerking to the side to avoid impaling Ashlyn with his katana. Spinning, he faced the doorway.
Laroche stood in the opening, staring at Ashlyn, tapping his finger on his chin. “My, my, how your power has grown.”
Connor growled at the way the demon’s gaze swept over her body.
Black eyes, no whites at all, focused on him. “Ah, the jealous lover. Has she shown you the voracious appetite I created within her? The things she’ll do for sex. Amazing.” The demon chuckled, the sound churning Connor’s guts more than the words themselves.
Ashlyn flinched. The magic in the air flickered as her face paled and she cast her gaze down at the floor.
The demon’s words penetrated Connor’s mind. It took him a second, but the way Ashlyn’s shoulders hunched showed a woman full of shame.
Her magic flickered again, growing weaker.
Connor took a step closer to the demon. “Anything she did was by force. And you’re wrong. I was the one who taught her the pleasures of love. Your kind know nothing about such things.”
He flashed forward, swinging his katana, but the demon disappeared again.
With a growl of frustration, Connor spun, ready
for another cowardly attack from behind.
Ashlyn stared at him, eyes shining, mouth open.
“So how do we kill him, darling?”
At his ‘darling’ she flinched.
The demon laughed, close, but still unseen. Ashlyn blinked, her eyes unfocusing once more. The electric power emanating from her grew stronger.
Pain ripped down Connor’s back. Ignoring it, he spun, bringing up his katana.
The demon was still invisible.
Behind him, Ashlyn cried out.
He whirled, his gut clenching at the sight of the bloody furrows beneath her shredded shirt, running down her right shoulder and arm.
Connor’s back burned, his muscles screaming as he kept his katana raised. “Coward,” he shouted. “Show yourself.”
A disturbing cackle filled the room. “Now where’s the fun in that?”
He spun, facing the direction of the demon’s voice. Then, rushing forward, he swung Akoukirito wildly. The bastard was there somewhere.
Ashlyn’s power continued to fill the room. Sparks flickered in the air.
* * *
Ashlyn watched as Connor hunted for Laroche. It was ineffectual. Futile.
Yet, strength from his presence filled her.
Helped her gather the magic surrounding them, helped her face her greatest nightmare.
Her shoulder ached, but it was nothing compared to what she’d been through in the past. As she drew on the magic in the air, a buzzing filled her mind. She blinked rapidly as blinding colors came to sight.
The magic swirled, spinning, wavering, covering everything.
Agony exploded as something slammed into her. She stumbled forward, falling to her knees. Connor shouted, rushing to her side and standing over her. Protecting her.
Grayness spread over the colors of magic. She bit her tongue, relishing the pain, the taste of blood.
“It’s all very good. I will have you and your deformed son back. Perhaps this Judge as well.” Laroche laughed. “What a trophy for my dungeon.”
“You’ll have none of us,” Connor growled, turning, searching.
“We shall see.”
Pushing past the grayness, Ashlyn struggled to her feet. Her connection to the magic was still strong. And something had changed.