Touch of Lightning

by Carin Rafferty

  No, he quickly concluded. The display case was tucked into a dark corner, and even if light could get to it, the triangle would be reflecting colors, not emitting that strange white-hot light.

  “How much longer is it going to take you to find the journal?” he called up to Shana, who was no longer in sight. He knew he shouldn’t harass her, but he was uneasy with this entire situation. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

  She appeared at the railing. “It could take a few hours. The journals are grouped by object, and there’s a listing in the front of the book that gives a physical description of each item entered. But you’ve seen how many amulets are in here. If you want to leave, I’ll contact you when I’ve found it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Shana,” he grumbled. “I’m not leaving until I find out what’s going on.”

  “Then I suggest you sit down and relax.”

  She disappeared before he could respond, and he turned to look at the triangle. Though he still found it disturbing, he had to admit that its glow was rather pleasant, particularly with the jewels from the other amulets sparkling in its light.

  He moved closer to the display case and leaned down to get a better look. When he did, he felt an overwhelming urge to remove the triangle from the dome, to hold it in his hand. Would it be warm or cool? Warm, he decided, and if he put it on, it would make him the most—

  “I’ve found it!” Shana declared excitedly.

  Startled, he spun around. She was coming down the stairs with a large, tattered book clutched to her chest. As he watched her descent, he frowned. She looked different, but he couldn’t define the change in her appearance. Then it hit him. Her long, brown hair was in disarray and her clothing wrinkled, as though she’d been working for a long time.

  Instinctively, he glanced toward the stained-glass pentagram and an apprehensive shiver crawled up his spine. He would have sworn that he’d been talking to Shana only moments ago, but the angle of the light indicated that a good two hours had passed.

  But that’s impossible. How could I lose track of that much time?

  You know how. The triangle wants you.

  As the answer reverberated in his mind, Shana sat down at a nearby table and said, “The reason it took me so long to find it is because it isn’t an amulet. It’s a piece of a talisman.”

  At her announcement, Sebastian’s anxiety grew. The differences between an amulet and a talisman were significant. Depending on the physical properties of the material from which it was made, an amulet provided passive protection for everything from bad luck to illness to evil. A talisman, however, had magical power, and it transferred that power to its wearer. The trouble was, the powers it imbued were often tinged with evil.

  He cast an uncomfortable glance toward the triangle. Now that he knew it was a piece of a talisman, the fact that it was sealed in its own glass dome took on new importance. Whoever had put it in there had wanted to make sure that it wasn’t easily accessible. That alone assured him that he was dealing with something potentially dangerous.

  “What kind of talisman is it?” he asked, as Shana opened the book and began to read.

  “This is written in the old language, so it’s going to take me a minute to figure it out,” she said.

  Sebastian wanted to snatch the book away from her and read it him­self, but he knew it would take him longer to interpret the old language. Because of her job, Shana had occasion to read it more frequently.

  As she turned the page, she began to grow pale. When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were wide with terror.

  “What is it?” he asked, alarmed. A few months before, Shana had fought an evil spirit witch. After that harrowing experience, he knew it would take a lot to frighten her.

  She raked a shaking hand through her hair and said, “Around the year 1000 A.D., a young warlock named Aodan Morpeth disappeared from his coven on the Norwegian coast. Five years later, he returned with a silver talisman. The talisman was made up of three pieces. A large circle and two triangles molded together to form a six-pointed star. The triangles were centered in the circle, which was engraved with thirteen symbols, four of which were unknown to the coven.”

  She paused and ran a finger down the page, as though needing to verify what she was about to say. “Aodan couldn’t remember where he had been or what had happened to him. He was also terrified of the talisman, though he didn’t know why. He locked it in a box, where it remained, because every family member who inherited it had an instinctive fear of it.”

  Sebastian took a moment to mull over the information before saying, “Obviously someone wasn’t afraid of it, or we wouldn’t have just a piece of it. What happened?”

  This time, she turned the page. “In 1691, Seamus Morpeth inherited the talisman upon his father’s death. According to his mate, Ragna, he didn’t know about the talisman until he went through his father’s things. She claimed Seamus was afraid of it, but he was also beguiled by it and he put it on. Once he did, the talisman began to change Seamus.”

  “How was he beguiled by it?” Sebastian asked, ignoring the urge to turn around and look at the triangle again. Was that what had happened to him? Had he lost track of time because he’d been beguiled by it?

  No! he told himself firmly. He was the troubleshooter, which made him the most powerful warlock alive. If the entire talisman were here, it might be able to enchant him, but there was no way a piece of it could affect him that strongly.

  “The journal doesn’t talk about his beguilement,” Shana answered. “I’m surprised it even tells as much as it does. Generally, there’s nothing more listed than what the object is, who made it, and what it was used for.”

  “Does it say anything else?”

  She nodded, her expression grim. “The coven’s high priest, Ulrich Morgret, was convinced the witch hysteria that began in Salem and spread throughout Massachusetts was caused by Seamus.”

  Sebastian blinked at her in disbelief. “Seamus caused the witch hysteria? Because of the talisman?” When Shana nodded, he said, “This is the first time I’ve heard that theory.”

  “That’s because Ulrich ordered the few people who knew about it to keep it a secret,” Shana replied. “Seamus’s actions endangered the entire coven, and they had to flee Massachusetts and go into the wilderness to escape persecution. Ulrich didn’t want the other coven members turning against Ragna Morpeth and her daughter because of what Seamus had done.”

  “That makes sense. But why wasn’t the information reported to the council? They should have been informed about what happened.”

  “Maybe they were informed.”

  He shook his head. “Something that significant would be passed down to the troubleshooter, so if it had been reported, I would know. What happened to Seamus and the talisman?”

  “Ulrich researched the symbols on the circle,” Shana replied, again referring to the book. “He determined that it was inherently evil and that it would look for evil in its possessor and corrupt him. He also concluded that the talisman’s sole purpose was to destroy humankind.”

  Sebastian gaped at her. “That’s impossible. A talisman with that kind of power would have to be reported to the council.”

  Shana gave a helpless shrug. “I’m only repeating what’s in the journal.”

  “What else does it say?” He risked another glance toward the triangle. What she was saying couldn’t be true! But if it were . . . He refused to com­plete the thought. The ramifications were too horrible to even contemplate.

  “According to this, Ulrich knew the talisman couldn’t be destroyed. He did, however, ascertain that it gained its energy from the moon and the sun. He concluded that if its three pieces—the circle and the two triangles—were broken apart and one of the pieces buried, it would lose its power.

  “He decided that it would be e
ven better if two of the pieces were buried far apart, making it more unlikely that it could be resurrected,” she went on. “But first he had to get the talisman away from Seamus and exile him, because he had also determined that once a person is corrupted by the talisman, he can’t be rehabilitated.”

  Sebastian shuddered. He’d heard of magical objects so pernicious they could forever corrupt their possessor, but this was the first time he’d come into contact with one. Assuming, of course, that everything in the journal was true. He still had his doubts. It seemed inconceivable that something this ominous had not been reported.

  “How did Ulrich get the talisman?” he asked next.

  As Shana told him about the night Ragna betrayed her mate and demanded that both she and Seamus be allowed to keep a piece of the talisman, Sebastian walked closer to the display case. Was the triangle glowing brighter? Or was his imagination working overtime because of this bizarre story?

  When she was done, he said, “When Ragna died, why wasn’t this piece buried? That would have ensured that all three pieces would never be above ground at the same time.”

  “It wasn’t buried because of the unfamiliar symbols engraved on the circle,” Shana stated. “Ulrich didn’t recognize them, but he was sure they had to do with the earth. He was afraid that if all three pieces were underground, they might be able to connect through the earth energies and cause natural disasters. Since there was a good chance that Seamus’s piece would be buried with him on his death, when Ragna died, Ulrich had the triangle sealed in that dome and stored in the repository.”

  “And until now it has never glowed?”

  “I’ll check out some of the other journals to make sure, but I doubt it. If it had, it should have been recorded here.”

  Sebastian began to pace. “So we have to assume that it’s glowing because all three pieces are now above ground.”

  Again, Shana nodded, and she placed both hands over her abdomen in a protective gesture. Sebastian recognized the significance of her action. She was nearly four months pregnant. Her first instinct would be to protect her child. But how did you protect an unborn child, or anyone else, from what was purportedly a doomsday device?

  Since it was his job to do just that, he’d have to find a way, and fast.

  “What are you going to do, Sebastian?” she asked.

  “There’s only one thing I can do,” he stated grimly. “Take the triangle off coven land and put it on. If all three pieces are above ground, then it should draw me to the other two.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to just bury this piece? That would deactivate the talisman.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “It would deactivate it for now, but what if the other two pieces end up buried somewhere down the road? If Ulrich was right and it connects underground, no telling how much damage would occur before we figured out what was going on. The best way to stop it is for me to get the other two pieces and bury them myself. Then I can return this piece to the repository for safekeeping.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Shana allowed. “But why do you have to take it off coven land? Wouldn’t it be safer for you to put it on here—on consecrated ground?”

  “Safer for me, maybe,” he admitted. “But not necessarily safer for the coven.”

  When she looked confused, he explained, “Since the triangle is only a piece of the talisman, if I’m off coven land, the energy barrier encircling Sanctuary will protect the coven from any malevolence. If I put it on within the coven boundary, it may be able to penetrate the energy barrier. Until I know what I’m dealing with, I can’t take any chances.”

  “But what if it . . . corrupts you as it corrupted Seamus?” Shana questioned hesitantly, fearfully.

  “That isn’t going to happen. I’m the troubleshooter, remember? I’m incorruptible.”

  He knew his answer was flip, but he wasn’t about to admit that her concern was valid. It appeared that the triangle had made him lose time. If it could do that to him while sealed in a glass dome, what would it do once he put it on?

  He wanted to reassure himself that it couldn’t corrupt him. But if the journal was right, the talisman had corrupted Seamus Morpeth, a warlock who had both a mate and a child. His very nature would have demanded that he sacrifice his life to protect them both from harm. Yet the talisman had made Seamus go against his nature—to put not only the coven but both his mate and child at risk.

  As the import of that hit him, Sebastian felt unadulterated fear rush through him. How could he, a warlock with no mate or child to enhance his primal protective instincts, fight against such insidious evil, when Seamus had had both and had failed?

  Knowing that he couldn’t afford to think about the issue, Sebastian opened the display case and lifted out the glass dome. He had to believe that he was stronger than Seamus.

  He told Shana goodbye and walked out, praying that he was strong enough to defeat the talisman. If he weren’t, he might be responsible for the annihilation of the human race.

  Lakota Sioux Reservation, South Dakota

  This wasn’t like her normal dreams. It didn’t have the strong echoes of the past or the insubstantial vibrations of the future. It felt immediate—real— and a frisson of unease slid through her. She never dreamed of the present.

  As she glanced around her surroundings, she frowned. She was in the woods, but it wasn’t the familiar forest of the sacred Black Hills. This place didn’t have the stark, soaring mountains to which she was accustomed, and there were more leafy trees than conifers. The ground was also different. It was thick with undergrowth and brambles, but what disturbed her was the strange, golden barrier that shimmered in front of her. It stretched from ground to sky, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t see through it.

  When a man suddenly strode through it, she could only stare at him in awe. He was extraordinarily tall and dressed all in black. But it was his breadth she found astounding. His shoulders were so broad, she was sure that if she stood in front of him he’d block out the sun. As her gaze roamed down him, she noted that he carried a glass dome. She tried to see what was inside it, but it emitted a blinding light.

  Who was he? she wondered, returning her gaze to his face. His features were too austere to consider him handsome. He had hollow cheeks, a hooked nose, and a jawline and chin so sharply defined, they looked as if they had been chiseled from granite. His shoulder-length, dark-brown hair and glittering dark eyes gave him a dangerous, predatory look, which was enhanced by an aura of raw power. She felt drawn to him, yet repelled by him. The conflicting feelings made her shiver, though she wasn’t sure it was from fear. There was something else stirring inside her. An emotion she had never felt before and couldn’t identify, but it made her feel hot and weak and trembling.

  Warily, she watched him set the dome on the ground and kneel in front it. Then he raised his hands and began to speak. She tried to hear his words and wanted to curse in frustration when she couldn’t. Who was he? What was he doing?

  A moment later the dome burst open and she watched him quickly grab whatever was inside it. When he did, a strange wreath of lightning appeared in the sky. It circled above him with dizzying speed, and then a bolt of lightning broke free from the wreath and struck the object in his hand.

  His body violently convulsed, and his hands smoked as if on fire. She cried out in horror, sure he was going to die. When the lightning disap­peared, however, he didn’t fall dead to the ground. He remained kneeling, and he tossed back his head and opened his mouth, as though in exhilarated laughter. Then he raised his hands and dropped whatever he’d taken from the dome around his neck.

  When it settled against his chest, she could finally see what it was. Panic ripped through her. He wore a triangle identical to the one she guarded. That could only mean that he was a wicáhmunga—a magician. Since he possessed the triangle, he had to be like
Seamus Morpeth, who had tortured and slaughtered her people, and then placed the curse upon them over three hundred years ago.

  Fearfully, she returned her gaze to his face and was startled to find him staring at her. She assured herself that it was a coincidence. She wasn’t really here but having one of her dreams. There was no way he could see her.

  That didn’t alleviate the unnerving sensation that he could. Nor did it alter the transformation of his visage. Before he’d put on the triangle, he’d looked harsh and uncompromising. Now he looked cruel and maniacal, almost inhuman, and his glittering eyes seemed to delve into her soul.

  As she stared into his eyes, she could perceive the evil uncoiling inside him, and she knew that even if he couldn’t see her, his malevolence was directed at her. Unmitigated fear enveloped her, and she forced her way toward consciousness to escape him. As his image faded, she heard him say “Sarah.”

  Terror shot through her. His voice was soft, almost a caress. It was also the most menacing sound she had ever heard. Instinctively, she knew he wasn’t just saying her name. He was letting her know that he knew who she was. She also knew that he would come after her, and when he found her, he would kill her.

  SARAH MANY DREAMS bolted upright in bed. Her entire body trembled, and her heart raced so fast that she pressed a hand to her chest. When she did, her fingers brushed against the silver triangle resting between her breasts. It felt white hot, and she jerked her hand away.

  “It was just a dream!” she told herself, frantically clutching the covers to her chest.

  But she knew she was lying to herself. She never had “just a dream,” and never would. The wasičun world called her psychic; her people called her wakan—holy. She hated both descriptions. They made her different, and because she was different, she was ostracized by both the non-Indians and the Lakotas.