Touch of Lightning

by Carin Rafferty

  Sebastian shook his head. “I can’t do that, Sarah. You have no idea what you’re dealing with, which is why we need to talk.”

  “So talk.”

  “It’s a rather long and involved story,” he hedged. He had to make her get rid of the snakes. Once they were gone, he could cast the protective spell. Then he’d figure out something to tell her that would make her give him the triangle. He couldn’t tell her the truth. To do so, he would have to reveal the existence of his race, and even though she knew about Seamus, he knew instinctively that whatever wicáhmunga meant, it wasn’t warlock. No, the truth was out of the question.

  It was as if she read his mind, because she said, “I am not calling off the snakes. So I suggest that you either tell me your story or give me your triangle.”

  Sebastian wanted to rake a hand through his hair in frustration, but he refrained. He didn’t want to startle the snakes. He also couldn’t believe that a mortal had trapped him like this.

  He studied her for a long moment before saying, “And what if I refuse to do either?”

  “I’ll walk away and leave you to the snakes.”

  “That would be murder, Sarah.”

  “No, wicáhmunga. That would be smart. So what’s it going to be? The story or the triangle?”

  “Neither. If you’re going to murder me, then do it,” he answered, deciding to call her bluff. At least he was fairly sure it was a bluff. He hadn’t had much contact with mortals, but he’d had enough to realize that most women were not violent by nature. It took a lot to provoke them into killing, and even then, most of them couldn’t do it.

  Since her face was still shadowed, he couldn’t see her reaction to his demand. When she didn’t respond right away, he knew he’d gained the upper hand.

  A moment later, however, he gaped at her in shock as she stated, “Have it your way.” Then she turned and disappeared into the forest.

  Sebastian, realizing that he’d backed himself into a deadly corner, quickly murmured the incantation for the protective spell. But when he circled his hand and flicked his fingers, nothing happened.

  He stared at his hand in horrified disbelief. His magic wasn’t working!

  THE MOMENT SARAH was out of the wicáhmunga’s sight, she collapsed against a nearby tree and closed her eyes. Her entire body trembled, and she couldn’t remember ever feeling so frightened. She also couldn’t believe that she’d captured him so easily. After a lifetime of training for this moment, it was almost a letdown.

  “Why haven’t you ordered the snakes to strike, Sarah?”

  Her eyes flew open at Wanága’s voice. She hadn’t seen him since before dawn, when she’d had the visions about the wicáhmunga and the archeologist, John Butler. She was surprised that Wanága still appeared in his leather breechclout. She would have thought he’d be displaying his full battle regalia for this momentous occasion. She also couldn’t believe that he had deserted her at a time like this.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded, purposely ignoring his ques­tion. She knew she had to give the order to the snakes, but she kept hearing the wicáhmunga accusing her of murder. But this wasn’t murder. It was the survival of her people. The justification didn’t make her feel any better. “I could have used your help.”

  “You did fine without me,” he said. “But why haven’t you given the order to the snakes?”

  “Have I ever told you that you’re like a dog with a bone?” she snapped.

  “Many times.”

  “Well, I’m telling you again,” she said, pushing herself away from the tree.

  When she did, her pet rattlesnake, Willow, flicked its tongue against the side of her neck. She automatically petted the reptile’s head. Then she eased the snake off her arm.

  As she watched the snake uncoil itself and slide to the ground, she shivered, feeling unexpectedly chilled. Though she knew many people had an almost pathological fear of snakes, she’d never felt a moment of alarm around them. She’d always known they were her friends and would protect her.

  Only now, as they waited for her to give them an order to kill, did she recognize their menace.

  She could feel Wanága watching her, and she slowly raised her gaze to his face. She expected him to be regarding her in disappointment, but his expression was one of concern.

  “You always talk to me like this when you’re afraid, Sarah,” he said. “But there is no reason for you to be afraid. You’ve trapped the wicáhmunga. So why haven’t you told the snakes to strike?”

  Sarah sagged back against the tree and rubbed her hands across her face, the word murder echoing in her head. Dropping her hands to her sides, she looked at him and said, “I know I have to do it, Wanága, but . . .”

  “But?” he prodded when she stopped speaking.

  She shook her head in confusion and whispered, “It feels wrong.” When he didn’t respond, she sighed heavily and said, “I wish Leonard were here. He’d understand.”

  At the thought of Leonard Night Wolf, tears filled her eyes. He’d found her in these mountains when she was five years old and had taken her into his home, making her a member of his family. He’d claimed he was only doing it because she was the new guardian and it was his duty to train her. But she knew he had loved her as much as she loved him. When he died two years ago, it had devastated her.

  “What would Leonard understand that I cannot understand?” Wanága asked.

  “My reluctance,” she answered, as she again pushed away from the tree and began to pace. “I know you’ve told me I must kill the wicáhmunga, but—”

  “I have never said you must kill him,” Wanága interrupted. “I have only said that you must protect your people from the curse.”

  “But you’ve implied that his death is the only way to do that,” she rebutted as she came to a stop and frowned at him.

  He shook his head. “No. I showed you the way to achieve his death with the snakes. You are the guardian, and only you can decide if that is necessary.”

  “And just how am I supposed to make that determination? Toss a coin into the air?” she countered, angry that he would choose now, of all times, to change the rules on her. And regardless of his claim, he had implied that the wicáhmunga’s death was her only option.

  “If you feel that tossing a coin is the best way to make your decision,” he stated.

  “You’re impossible!” she cried, resuming her pacing. “Damn! I wish I could read the wicáhmunga’s mind. Then I could figure out why I feel this reluctance.”

  “But Sarah, one of the reasons you are the guardian is that you are capable of reading his mind. Why would you think you couldn’t do so?”

  She shot him a frustrated glare. He’d been with her for more than twenty years, but he hadn’t picked up the subtle nuances of modern-day language and took everything she said literally. Most of the time it amused her, but this was not a humorous situation. It was a matter of life and death—a question of murder.

  “I didn’t mean I was incapable of reading his mind,” she said. “I was just pointing out that I can’t risk doing so. He’s a wicáhmunga, remember? If he connects with my mind, he’s capable of controlling my thoughts. I can’t let that happen.”

  “Then what are you going to do about him?”

  “You’re the spirit guide, so why don’t you guide me and tell me what to do?”

  “I cannot do that, Sarah. You are the guardian, and only you can make the decision.”

  “Then why are you even here?”

  She wanted to scream when he said, “When it is time for you to know all, you will understand.”

  She stopped pacing, perched her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I’ll tell you what I understand, Wanága. I have captured the wicáhmunga, and now I don’t know what to do with him. The only one who can give me
advice is you, and all you do is talk in riddles. In the meantime, he’s standing in a circle of snakes. Eventually he or the snakes are going to make a move, and when that happens, the decision will be out of my hands.”

  “Then I suggest you make a decision before that happens.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You aren’t the one who has to take responsibility.”

  “Responsibility is not mine to take. I am not the guardian.”

  “No, you’re a spirit guide who doesn’t know how to guide!”

  “You’re angry with me.”

  “Gosh, what was your first clue?” she snapped.

  “It was when—”

  “Dammit, Wanága! Don’t take everything I say so literally,” she broke in impatiently. When he opened his mouth, she held up her hand. “Please don’t say anything more. I need to think.”

  “No, Sarah. You need to feel,” he replied.

  “Feel?” she repeated dubiously.

  He nodded. “You said that destroying the wicáhmunga felt wrong. Explore those feelings.”

  He vanished, and Sarah grumbled, “That’s just like a spirit guide. Always disappearing in a crisis.”

  Even as she voiced the complaint, she knew Wanága was right. She was the guardian, and she had to make the decision about the wicáhmunga.

  Reluctantly, she walked back through the trees until she could see him. He was still standing where she had left him, but he was actively searching the ground. She suspected that it wouldn’t be long before he’d try to make a break for it. Maybe she should just let it happen. There was a chance he could escape the snakes.

  But if he escaped and if he was as evil as Seamus Morpeth, he’d be back. Next time he’d be prepared for her trap, and he might succeed in destroying her. However, there was a chance—albeit a remote one—that he wasn’t evil. If he wasn’t and he died from a snake bite, then she would be guilty of murder.

  But you know he’s evil. You saw it in the vision when he put on the triangle.

  That’s what was nagging at her, she realized as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She had perceived the evil after he’d put on the triangle. She knew that everyone had a dark side to their personality. She also knew from personal experience that the triangle enhanced and fed on that darkness. For years, she’d fought against its insidious power. Only when she’d become immune to it had Leonard officially declared her the guardian and given her the triangle permanently.

  Since the wicáhmunga had just come into possession of his triangle, it was possible that he was engaging in that struggle between good and evil.

  She heaved a forlorn sigh, torn by her dilemma. If the wicáhmunga were caught in that struggle, she couldn’t destroy him before he failed the test. Yet she couldn’t let him go until she knew the outcome. That meant she’d have to keep him here until the problem was resolved. But how did one keep a wicáhmunga captive against his will?

  “I’ll think of something,” she mumbled as she walked toward him. “But whatever it is, I have to resolve this situation before John Butler arrives. It would be too dangerous to battle both of them at the same time.”

  WHY ISN’T MY magic working? Sebastian wondered in bewilderment as he again tried the spell to no avail. Was the triangle causing the problem?

  But he knew it couldn’t be the triangle. He’d been wearing it since early morning. If it was going to interfere with his magic, it would have done so before now. He also knew he had to concentrate on the immediate problem—getting away from the snakes. And the safest way to do that was to locate them. Then he could gauge their proximity and plan an escape route.

  He began to search the ground, and he cursed when a cloud chose that moment to drift across the moon. As the darkness deepened, his survival instincts started screaming at him to run. He quelled the impulse. He’d already made one foolish mistake by not casting a protective spell before starting up the mountain. He couldn’t compound it by charging blindly into a pack of deadly rattlesnakes.

  Instead, he glanced toward the sky to watch the cloud, while listening intently for movement on the ground. As long as the snakes were still, he wasn’t in danger. It seemed to take forever before the cloud finally passed. When it did, he resumed his search.

  He was so absorbed in the activity that he started when Sarah said, “Even if you escape, the snakes will come after you. Are you sure you can outrun them?”

  He looked toward the trees, so relieved that she’d returned, he couldn’t speak. He also decided that he’d cooperate with her. He’d tell her some story that would make her call off the snakes. Then he’d persuade her to give him her triangle and get the hell out of here.

  Before he could speak, however, she said, “Take off your shoes and socks and throw them to me.”

  He blinked, sure he’d misunderstood her. “What?”

  “I said, take off your shoes and socks and throw them to me.”

  “No,” he said with an adamant shake of his head. At least with his boots on he had a chance of surviving.

  “I’m not giving you a choice, wicáhmunga. I’m giving you an order.”

  “If you think I’m going to obey you, you’re crazy.” She crossed her arms over her chest. It was then he realized she was no longer holding the snake. Damn! That meant there was another one of the bastards on the ground.

  “A smart man would at least find out why I’m issuing the order before he decided to disobey it,” she said.

  He glared at her, deciding that if she was standing next to him, she wouldn’t be so blithely questioning his intelligence. Compared to witches, who were tall, she was a small woman. The top of her head probably wouldn’t reach his chin. He flexed his fingers, wishing he could get his hands on her. He’d throttle her for treating him so disdainfully. Dammit! He was a warlock and deserved to be treated with respect!

  “I don’t care why you’re issuing the order,” he rasped. “Only a fool would remove his shoes in a situation like this, and I am no fool.”

  “Believe me, wicáhmunga, I don’t consider you a fool. You did, however, say that you wanted to sit down and talk. I’ve decided to listen to what you have to say. However, I do not intend to place myself in jeopardy while doing so. So, if you’ll give me your shoes and socks, I’ll tell the snakes to back off. Then we can go somewhere and talk.”

  He regarded her for a long moment and then said, “I have no intention of harming you, Sarah. But if I did, I don’t see how giving you my shoes will protect you.”

  “It won’t. But if you want to get off this mountain, I’ll have to tell the snakes to let you go. If you harm me, I can’t do that, and there is no way you’ll get past them barefoot.”

  “And why couldn’t I just kill you and put my shoes on?” he shot back, growing more incensed with her. He’d come here in peace, and she was declaring war. Worse, she was winning the battle.

  “I’m no fool, either,” she said. “I’ll hide your shoes before I call off the snakes.”

  Sebastian frowned in angry frustration. “And how do I know you’re not asking me to take off my shoes to make sure the snakes kill me?”

  She shrugged. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

  Sebastian arched a brow in patent disbelief. Trust her? When surrounded by vipers? Not in a million years.

  He opened his mouth to tell her that, but she said, “Considering the history my people share with Seamus Morpeth, I have every reason to believe you’re as sadistic and deadly as he was. I also have you trapped, and to even think of giving up that advantage is crazy. Prove that I’m not crazy, wicáhmunga. Please. Give me your shoes and socks.”

  At her compelling plea, Sebastian felt torn. He’d be insane to do what she asked. Yet he couldn’t fault her logic. After what Seamus had done, she had every reason to distrust him. But how could he
possibly trust her?

  He couldn’t, but how else was he going to get out of this lethal trap?

  “Well, wicáhmunga?” she said.

  “I’m thinking,” he replied, taking one last look at the ground. When he spied one of the snakes, he couldn’t believe it. He quickly scanned for more and spotted a second one to the right. There wasn’t much distance between them, but it was enough to run between them. If they struck, his boots were ankle high, and he was wearing heavy denims. At the speed he’d be moving, it was unlikely they’d hit a vulnerable spot.

  Of course, he’d still be in danger from them, he reminded himself, and since his magic wasn’t working, he couldn’t cast a protective spell. To his chagrin, he also realized that Sarah had made a valid point. He didn’t have any idea how fast a rattlesnake moved, so he didn’t know if he could outrun them.

  And since when has the most powerful warlock alive started running from a fight? an inner voice sneered. Even without your magic, you’re both physically and intellectually superior to mortals. Are you going to let a small woman best you?

  At the gibe, Sebastian’s temper flared and he again balled his fists at his sides. The voice was right. He was the most powerful warlock alive, and it was time he showed her that.

  Don’t be a fool! another voice rebutted. You’re here so you can stop the talisman’s pieces from coming back together. Run! Once you figure out what’s wrong with your magic and fix it, you can cast a protective spell and come back. You can’t risk your life—not to mention the entire human race—just to prove you’re superior.

  It’s better to die a hero than a coward, and only cowards run, the first voice countered.

  “I’m losing patience, wicáhmunga,” Sarah said, interrupting the argu­ment taking place inside him. “What’s it going to be? Your shoes or the snakes?” He cast another quick look at the ground, confirming that the snakes were still at the same spot. Then he raised his gaze to Sarah and calculated the distance between them, deciding that both voices were right. Giving her his shoes could be suicidal, but running was only advantageous if he knew for sure he could outdistance the snakes.