Unwanted Magic (The Ancient Magic Series Book 3)

by Stephany Wallace

  She paused and took a breath as though giving me time to process everything she had explained. I slowly nodded, trying to seem at ease with her explanation but I was silently having an anxiety attack. "It makes sense."

  "All right. Now, let’s go back to the child learning to swim analogy. He is moving through the water, but he can feel me, his anchor, holding him and giving him the reassurance that whatever happens, you will be there to pull him out. The same concept applies to you. As you enter the trance and learn how to move in that new environment, an anchor holds your hand, connecting you to the here and now. Although your essence has traveled, you will feel him or her being there for you, and you will know that no matter what happens the anchor will be there to pull you out."

  My eyes widened, as I fully understood her. That made it seem so much better. It was reassuring. If I were not alone, I would not be afraid. "That sounds like something I could manage." She smiled wide, happy she had been able to help me. "Will you be my anchor?" I asked, suddenly excited about the prospect.

  The smile died on her lips. "I am truly sorry but I cannot. You see, an anchor is a particular person. It is not something that just anyone can do. The person, who shall become your anchor, must have a unique energy. One that resonates at the same level as yours does. It means your souls are similar and that you are…"

  “Connected.” I finished for her.

  She smiled. “Yes, you two are connected. It is the only way you can feel each other while your soul travels.”

  “Who discovered this? That one could have an anchor to help us learn?”

  Her eyes filled with pride once again and her smile became brilliant. “My mentor. We pair kids up at the coterie with their anchor and help them learn. It is less intimidating for them to take the journey if they know there is someone there for them.”

  My mind filled with wonder. I wanted to meet her mentor, desperately so. He sounded like a God. He seemed so powerful. How could he know all of this and master so many skills? How could he recognize the gift in babies, and be able to develop it so flawlessly? Asrhia was proof of that. The few things I had seen her do were evidence enough. Knowing that someone like him existed gave me hope. I would pray to the Goddess so that one day I could be before him, either here or in the future.

  "If I do everything you say, if I vow to follow your instructions correctly so that I can learn to master this ability, will you take me to him? Will you please introduce me to your mentor?"

  Her eyes softened, and I could see them shining. My question had brought an emotion out of her that I had not expected. A full smile grazed her lips. "There is a long road you must travel, but I promise you will see my mentor one day."

  "Thank you," I hugged her as her emotion traveled through me too. Her arms wrapped around me and she held me tightly. We stood there in silence, and I knew my mother was watching over me from the Blessed Isles. She had sent me someone I could trust, someone I could follow as I walked this uncertain road that I had feared for so long. I was not alone.

  I leaned back, and my gaze went to the window reminding me of my secret date. "I am truly sorry Asrhia, but you must leave. Art shall be here any moment."

  She frowned. “Art? But night has arrived, why would Art be here?” Her eyes widened and the gasp that followed startled me. “Oh dear Goddess, this is sooo weird.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said, smiling nervously. “I will leave you.” She turned around and moved towards the window “I did not see this coming,” She mumbled, stopped walking, then faced me. Her gaze seemed troubled. “I need to tell you something.”

  I stepped closer. “It is alright Asrhia. I trust you, whatever it is you can tell me.”

  "Your High Priest will soon ask a significant favor of you. It may seem like he has asked too much of you. Nevertheless, you must say yes. It is imperative that you do not refuse him."

  I wanted to ask why, but the urgency in her words stopped me. “I shall. I trust you.”

  She smiled and hugged me one more time, then disappeared before my eyes.

  * * *

  I bathed and laid in bed. The night had carried on yet Art had not come to see me. I wondered if Lia had experienced another troublesome memory and he had to remain by her side. My heart warmed as the thought crossed my mind. Art was that kind of man, always there for those that needed him. Always putting others first. He had helped every single one of us. At one point in time or the other, he had cared for everyone in this village. Every man had received his advice, his friendship, his support. He had built a home for their families with his bare hands, and he never said no to a person in need. Everyone trusted him, counted on him and loved him.

  As though responding to my thoughts, the portal opened, and Art walked through it. I smiled and extended my hand pulling him towards me until he laid beside me. His arms embraced me, and he lifted my chin so I was looking at him, the next second his lips were on mine. He deepened the kiss and grazed my tongue with his. The sensation made me tingle, Gildas had never kissed me this way. His hand began caressing the skin of my back under my shirt, and I could not help but compare his touch to Gildas’. It was harder to let him go than I had imagined. There was always something that Art did which reminded me of him. I leaned away from Art and looked into his eyes. I could not wait for the day when I loved him more than I ever had before, when I would only feel him and Gildas was just a beautiful yet far away memory, stored in a remote corner of my heart.

  “I thought I would not see you today, a chara," I whispered and saw him smile.

  “Nothing could keep me away. I was just waiting for Lia to fall asleep so I could come to you. All I wanted was to be here with you.”

  He kissed me briefly then looked at me. My hand reached for his neck, and I slowly pulled him back to me. I kissed him, enjoying the way his lips moved on mine but longing for the way he felt in my visions. His body moved until he laid on me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and felt him hold my waist, pulling me closer. In that instant, the haze began to engulf me, and the cold traveled over my skin. I felt dizzy, and I cupped my head. I tried to reach Art's hand to hold it. I wanted him to be my anchor, but there was not enough time.

  * * *

  This place was different. The vision felt different than the others. It was not about Art. I was in a clean room, modern. It was barren of anything except a bed. There was a small window up above and a door. Artificial lighting illuminated the space, and the walls, the floor, and even the bed were gray. Everything was gray.

  The door opened, and a tall man pushed a rolling chair inside the room. I looked at the strange contraption as he walked his way in and stopped right in front of me. He was tall and had light skin, blond hair, and black eyes. Nevertheless, the color was not what made his eyes dark, but what I could see of his soul. His gaze filled with revulsion, as he looked straight through me. It was all it took for me to realize the room was not empty, as I had originally thought. I had seen that look before. My gaze dropped to his hand, and there it was, the ring of the Brotherhood of the Dying Moon. He was Roman. The soft cries of a woman came from behind me, and I swiftly turned around.

  “Please, I beseech you, do not do this again. I am not strong enough. It will hurt my baby. Please, do not hurt my boy. Please.”

  My heart tore at the condition her body was in. Slashes, and bruises covered her skin. She was malnourished and weak. Only a white loose dress shielded her body. Her feet were bare and dirty, and her hands gripped her voluptuous belly protectively, while she caressed it. She was pregnant. I tried desperately to see her face but her gaze was to her stomach, and her long tangled hair blocked it. When I turned around the guard walked right through me. He stopped and looked all around him as though he had felt me here. He had felt my energy. Returning to his chore, he seized her arms and pulled her harshly from the floor. She whined as his grip hurt her arms. I immediately reached for my back, but my axes were not there, my body was not here, this was a vis
ion. I desperately looked around me trying to discover where we were. Had this happened already? Was I here to be able to stop it from happening? I could not find anything that gave me the answers I sought. He pushed her onto the chair but missed. Her arms flailed as she tried to stop her fall and failed. Her side connected with the arm of the moving chair and she bounced towards the floor. The cracking sound of her ribs reverberated through the air.

  "No!" I yelled, and my voice mingled with the one of the young man that rushed through the door.

  The guard that had pushed the poor woman stepped back, alarmed to see him there.

  “What have you done to her? She’s carrying my child, you bastard! What have you done?!” He roared.

  The guard remained silent while the young man cradled the woman’s face and held her to him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I won’t let them hurt you anymore, I promise. I’m sorry.” He caressed her belly as he assessed her condition. When his gaze finally pulled away from her body, it was filled with rage. “What did you do to her? Answer me!”

  Two more guards rushed through the door and gasped when they saw the young man there.

  “What is he doing here? He was not supposed to see her.”

  “I thought he had been locked away by his mother.” They whispered alarmed.

  My eyes roamed his body and I realized that his clothes where soiled and his appearance seemed unkempt, confirming the guards’ words. He also had been locked away.

  "You can try whatever you want, but not you or even my mother can keep me away from her. I love her! You will pay for doing this to her. I am Marcus Cornelli, son of Valentino Cornelli and I will kill you all. I will kill anyone who touches her! Get the hell out of here!" He roared, and the men hurried out of the room, clearly afraid of him.

  My eyes widened as I recognized the man from the lake in the face of this young man. His gaze softened and his eyes glistened when they returned to the woman. His hand gently caressed her face, pushing her hair back and he kissed her lips.

  “You came back. You love me,” She whispered, hopeful.

  "Of course I do. You are my life. I'm so sorry, my love. Please forgive me for not escaping sooner. For not coming to you before, and stopping them."

  When his face lifted from hers, my hand flew to my mouth and my eyes watered. I could finally see her. Ailidh, the daughter of the herbalist of the village laid on the floor, before me. She had been only eighteen when we parted ways at the beach, and she sailed away with the same clan where Leigh was.

  "Get me a doctor and food. I'm taking her to my room." He ordered a guard who showed up at that moment, the man's eyes widened, but he turned around and rushed to follow the orders. Young Marcus kissed Ailidh’s lips once again. “I’m so sorry, my love. I love you.”

  A tear escaped me at the show of love and care that he displayed. Marcus carefully held her body, and lifted her into his arms. Her head rested on his chest while he walked out of the room with her.

  * * *

  The tears ran down my face as the white haze disappeared and I returned to my body. I reached for Art, but he was not by my side. The thick blanket was wrapped around me like he usually did, yet he was not here. I struggled to remain still as my body shook from the cold that seeped through my pores.

  “Art…”

  I called, unbelieving. Had he left me during the trance? My tearful eyes searched the room, but he was nowhere to be found. He had left me. I was alone. I turned on my side, feeling the tears slide down my face and onto the pillow as the scene I had just witnessed replayed in my mind. Ailidh’s pain mixed with mine, how could they do such things to her? Especially while pregnant?

  I wiped my cheeks as the truth in my vision finally became clear.

  Marcus had fallen in love with one of our own, and Ailidh was Felix’s Mother.

  Perhaps there was good in him after all

  CHAPTER 7. THE TRUTH

  FELIX

  * * *

  This was worse than any torture they could have ever put me through.

  I rubbed my temples as Lia’s screams echoed in my mind. Briana’s desperate pleads for help, as Julius’s scalpel sliced through Lia’s skin haunted me day and night. There was nothing worse than to be subjected to silence and solitude when you carried so many demons in your mind. If the stories that Ronan kept sharing with me through the past few days had any truth to them, then maybe I deserved this punishment.

  “No,” I said, pushing myself up on the bed.

  My father would not lie to me. The Druids were the evil, not us. I could not allow them to brainwash me. If they were evil why hadn't they done anything to me yet? What were they waiting for to do it?

  “I know my people are good because I have seen it with my own eyes…”

  I could feel my chest rising and falling sharply as my breathing changed. Ronan’s words swirled in my mind. What had I seen my people do? The image of my Father’s hand connecting with Briana’s face crossed my mind. The blood sipping through the slices on Lia’s legs after she had passed out from the pain and terror she was enduring, and the twisted smile on Julius’ lips as he continued to create gashes on her thighs. It was like he was enjoying it.

  “Sometimes we have to take extreme action for the greater good, son. Sacrifices need to be made.”

  My father’s words had convinced me then, when he explained what I needed to do to uncover the Druids, capture them, and stop them from hurting any more innocent people. Looking back now, I couldn’t bring myself to understand what good had torturing Briana and Lia done. They had been completely defenseless against us.

  “I will admit it sounded good when you offered power and immortality. When you said, we could protect our people from them, and fight them at their same level… What you have done goes way beyond that! You crossed the line, Dad. This is brutality. You are torturing those girls even though Briana has told you a thousand times she doesn’t know how to do what you asked…You are behaving like terrorists, and I didn't sign up for this!"

  My own words came back to haunt me. I had known then. I saw it with my own eyes. I had never questioned my Father, but I did that day. He hadn’t hit me before, and those punches had hurt in more ways than one. It was the first time I saw him act like his mother, Agustina.

  That was not the Dad I grew up with.

  "They are evil, son. They play with your mind and manipulate you with their magic until you are nothing but a dog following their every command. They are monsters who stopped at nothing to get what they wanted. They killed their own people so that they could blame us."

  My hands replaced my fingers as I desperately rubbed my head trying to stop the memories. It throbbed from the pressure I was putting on it, but I didn’t care. I just needed it to stop. I wanted to bang my head against the damn rock wall behind me.

  This was torture in its purest form.

  The scene at the battle of the lake suddenly blinded me to everything else. My breathing came in pants, as the whistling noise of the shredder bullets flying through the air reverberated in my ears. Its sharp blades opened around it right before it pierced the body of the Warriors, and tore every muscle and vein on its way to their heart, successfully fulfilling their purpose. It was the only way to kill an immortal. A Druid. Their faces contorted in a mixture of pain and fear as their bodies crumbled to the ground. They were instantly gone. Cynwrig's gaze connected with mine as we both raised our weapons and fired. The raw pain was like flames leaping from his eyes.

  My heart was banging against my chest when I saw the sword going through my body all over again. The phantom agony traveled through me so strongly that I could feel the blade slicing my skin. I screamed and my eyes flew open. I tried to get up, but as my body bent from the pain I fell to the floor. My hands instinctively reached for the wound, but there was nothing there. I lifted the shirt over my stomach and pushed my fingers against the skin, but I was fine. A frustrated scream mixed with rage left me. My mind couldn't reconcile
the fact that I could feel the pain of the injury, my skin felt ripped open yet there was no wound to prove it. I reached for the small night table and gripped it by the leg. I threw it across the room crashing with the chairs, and bringing them down to the floor. I panted at the effort it had taken. My eyes roamed the floor around me until I noticed a pile of jagged rocks in the corner behind the bed. Putting the weight on my elbows, I dragged myself on the floor and stretched my arm as far as it would go under the bed, trying to reach them. My fingers touched the tip of the biggest one I could see, and I tapped it until it flipped. Taking a deep breath, I stretched my hand and finally grasped it. Feeling like I was going to pass out, I pulled myself up until I was sitting, rested my back on the side of the bed, and lifted my shirt again. My hands trembled as the jagged end of the rock touched my skin, but I pushed against it until it pierced it, dragging it upwards towards my rib. The pain hit me instantly, but it wasn't as strong as I needed it to be. A sigh of relief left me as the blood began to trickle from the slash I made. The memory of the pain caused by Art's sword flooded my body as my gaze followed the path of the blood staining my skin red. It belonged there. I pressed the rock against my skin again, cutting it wider.