His Dark Magic

by Pat Esden

  “Blessed be our new path,” Athena intoned as he pressed his palm against the crystal. “May it lead humanity into a new age.”

  Jessica strode forward next, followed by Em. Chloe watched as one after another the members dedicated themselves to the new path. Inside, her intuition whispered for her to not do it. Run, it screamed. But she’d jumped off a cliff only a few hours earlier to prove her commitment and loyalty to the Circle. Only moments ago, her soul had soared when Athena blessed her and welcomed her as a new member.

  An image of the Vice-Chancellor’s son lying in his hospital bed wavered into her head. That same hospital bed that she’d put him in five years ago. She could still feel that red dress twisting around her legs. See him lying motionless in the water. Feel his icy, clammy skin against her own. Taste the cold of his lips as she blew the life back into him. If she did this, then she’d be able to help him, to make up for her wrongs and absolve the shame she’d brought upon her family.

  Merlin. He was one of the most revered wizards in history. Powerful. Loved. What harm could come from his return?

  She stepped forward, half-dazed, took the knife from Athena and sliced her skin, a fast cut that left her lifeline bloodied.

  Chapter 12

  He clasped my face between his palms. I believed he wished nothing more than to guide my lips, to show them how to form the spell. But he was nothing more than the basest of thieves. A thief of innocence in wizard’s robes.

  —Nimue, Lady of the Lake

  Once the ritual was over, Chloe relaxed on one of the floor mats with everyone else, sipping a hot mulled cider and reveling in how amazing her life had become. She was part of a coven that was going to rediscover lost cures under Merlin’s guidance. In retrospect, the panic that had come over her before she cut her palm had been ludicrous. Athena was right. Under Merlin’s guidance, they were going to change the world. Of course, that came with a large sticking point. How were they going to make the cures available to mankind while retaining the witching communities’ sacred anonymity? Not to mention hide Merlin’s existence. She might have asked Athena those things, but she was bone-tired, drained to the glorious point where everything felt trancelike. Even the thought of getting up didn’t appeal to her.

  Devlin sat down next to her. His knee brushed hers and warmth radiated up her thighs, spreading through her body and settling into a delicious ache below her belly. She smiled and laughed with the conversations whirling around her, but in truth she was too lost in the sensation of his closeness and the joy of the moment to hear a word.

  His fingers touched hers, slowly, softly, sending tingles up her arm and throat. She nestled in closer to him. He rested his hand on the floor behind her and she leaned her head against his shoulder. Across from them, Matt lay down with his head on Brooklyn’s lap. Chandler told a funny story involving her son’s third birthday and the flying monkeys on the complex’s gate. Everyone laughed. Athena took over, something else about the metal monkeys and an issue Chandler had when she’d used her magic to weld them.

  Chloe didn’t dare breathe as Devlin stroked a finger along the neckline of her robe. He whispered, “Want to get out of here?”

  Desire throbbed inside her, so strong she trembled. His eyes shone in a way that told her he felt it too. Without a word, he took her hand and drew her to her feet and out of the teahouse. The cool air refreshed her super-heated face. The blue glow of the path filtered through a low mist. Stars. Moonlight. Everything was perfect. Impossibly so.

  She pulled him to a stop on the bridge. He was so gorgeous. So smart and powerful. What if her exhaustion and the afterglow from the magic had made her read his signals wrong? It seemed impossible, but what if he was just offering to drive her home? She didn’t want to say or do something stupid.

  Devlin caressed the side of her face, a light touch. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She glanced back at the teahouse. “Aren’t Em and Midas going to need rides?”

  “It’s not my night to watch them,” he said coolly. He grasped her by the shoulders, bringing her in close to his chest. His voice became husky. “Do you know what I’m thinking about?”

  She tilted her head up, her lips parting of their own accord. “That you want to kiss me?”

  He smiled, beautiful, slow, luxuriant, full of promises. “And?”

  Heat flared south of her stomach, branching from one nerve ending to the next. She licked her lips and slid her hands down his chest. “That you want to go someplace more private?”

  His cheeks dimpled. “Definitely.”

  His lips met hers, moist and hungry. She matched his kiss, the strength going out of her legs from the energy tumbling through every part of her being. His strong hands swept down her arms, moving up onto her ribcage. She slid her fingers down his back, feeling his corded muscles, broad shoulders, and tight butt. Oh Goddess, his amazing tight butt as naked under his robe as she was under hers.

  “Come on,” he whispered in her ear, and she remembered they were still on the bridge, in full view of the teahouse.

  Chloe let him draw her down the path, flying past the waterfalls and gardens. They were almost to his door when his retriever—Henry— came bounding out of the dark. For a moment the spell was broken and self-consciousness came over her, as they stepped out of the moonlight and into the brightness of his apartment, the dog insisting on pets and treats before settling down on the couch.

  “I’ve been dreaming of this since that first night at your apartment,” he murmured, moving up close to her.

  She shivered and bit her bottom lip. “So have I.”

  He leaned in, his lips meeting hers, a slow, lingering kiss, a promise of something more. His fingers caressed her face, her throat, the sides of her breasts. She tilted her head back, opening her mouth and surrendering to the movement of his lips and body. He pressed harder against her, urging her backwards to the bed.

  Together they fell onto the quilts. His hand slid under her robe, the kiss growing hotter as his fingers explored her thighs. Shudders of pleasure rippled through her.

  He pulled back. His hands cupped her face, his smoldering gaze searching hers. “Have you ever been with a witch?”

  She wriggled free of his hands and laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Your sister asked me the same thing earlier.”

  “And?”

  “No.” Her voice came out more breathless than she expected. No she hadn’t, but she had wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. “You’re the first.”

  He kissed her forehead, drawing a finger down to the corner of her lips. “Then we’ll take this slow.”

  She stopped his finger with her own. “I don’t mind fast. And I like wild, too. And condoms—I insist on them.”

  He chuckled and glanced at his bedside stand. “No problem.”

  Tension pulled at her stomach. It was great he was prepared. She wasn’t looking for a commitment. But he answered that question almost too fast, like he did this a lot.

  As if he could read her mind, he gently stroked her hair back. “I bought them this morning.”

  She laughed. “You’re bullshitting me now.”

  “Seriously, Chloe. I was hoping.”

  Dear Goddess. The nervous tension in her stomach melted away. She nodded, wondering how she’d landed here with this beyond amazing man, in this too-good-to-be-true dream.

  His lips were on hers again, hands moving up under her robes, pushing them off. She wiggled free from the loose cloth, the cool air sending shivers across her bare skin. She found the hem of his robe, pulled it off over his head.

  The warmth of his powerful body enveloped her. His hands once again caressed her inner thighs, stroking inward, magic fluttering in their wake. She gasped as he trailed a finger down her spine. His tongue awakened her breasts, her nipples. She moaned and squirmed away, taking a deep breath, pushing energy into her hands, exp
erimenting with her own touch against the strong planes of his chest.

  “Chloe,” he moaned. He leaned forward, crushing his lips against hers, a hungry kiss, alive with magic. The world faded, into a dance of sensations. The moist heat of his breath. The hum of his body, his fingers teasing the sweet spot between her legs, bringing her to the brink and holding her there. She wriggled down his body, kissing his chest, his abs, exploring the planes of his stomach with her fingertips, the soft down of his belly hair. Pushing magic into her breath, she teased his cock with a gentle exhale.

  His cock twitched with pleasure. But he pulled her back up. “Chloe…” His voice was ragged, strained as though the effort it took to stop her was physically excruciating to him. “Not this time. Tonight’s about you. Just you.”

  He moved slowly down her body, as she’d done to him. His magic-infused breath purred against her skin, awakening every inch of her. She could smell it too. The scent of power. The smell of witchcraft. Ancient. Overwhelming. He parted her legs, his mouth on her, kissing, licking. She shuddered and arched, closing her eyes as delicious tension took her to the edge of oblivion. The pulse of his magic grew stronger. An escalating rhythm. A rhythm that wouldn’t be denied. She let go, shockwaves of pleasure taking her, over and over again.

  She fell back into the cloud of quilts, lost in a mix of serenity and exhilaration, and throbbing desire for more. What they said about witches was true. This was nothing like it had been with any other guy. Not even close.

  Devlin slid up next to her and reach toward the bedside table. “You still okay with this?”

  She could barely nod. And when he entered her, it wasn’t just with his body. His magic thrust into her with equal force, a swell of energy that vibrated and hummed into every cell in her body. Electrifying. A thousand times stronger than any drink or drug she’d ever had, stronger than any spell she’d ever worked. Her magic roared and flared inside her, a wildfire with no wish other than to rush into his being, to pleasure him. He might have wanted tonight to be about her, but she couldn’t hold back. She released her energy, and he shuddered and groaned. Their magics collided in a tsunami of waves and they both came in a blur. Then time stood still for a moment, sparks of energy hissing along her damp skin, joy shuddering though her, until the sensations slowly calmed into blissful oblivion.

  She nuzzled up next to him, her head on his chest. He brushed her hair back from her damp face. “Chloe, you’re so beautiful,” he said. “Not just your body. Your soul. Your magic.”

  “You too,” she murmured. She closed her eyes, tears burning at the edges. Yes, it was true what they said about witches, she thought once more. Her body already craved more of him and his magic. A magic that made her feel both powerful and weightless at the same time. Maybe not now. But soon the ache would become unbearable.

  She opened her eyes and gazed in awe at his gorgeous face. Then she closed them again and silently built a wall around her heart, a border to protect her from falling any harder for him and his magic. A magic that she was afraid may have just ruined her for any other man.

  Chapter 13

  Blood from the living. Blood from the dead. One takes you forward. The other brings you back.

  —From ‘The Grimoire of Conjurations and Spirit Wisdom’ Translated from Old French by B. Remillard

  A phone was ringing.

  Barely awake, Chloe felt her way across to the edge of the bed and located the phone on the bedside table. “Hello?”

  “Who am I speaking with?” an older man said.

  She rubbed her eyes, working to clear away her sleepiness. “This is Chloe. Don’t you know who you called?”

  “Chloe who?”

  “Winslow,” she said, a tad sharply. Her voice was groggy from sleep, but how could they not know who she was? They’d called her.

  “One of the Winslows from Connecticut? Your father’s in the botanical supply business?”

  “Yeah. Who are you?”

  The man chuckled. “Zeus Marsh. Devlin’s grandfather.”

  Jolting fully awake, Chloe held the phone out and stared at it in abject horror. It wasn’t her phone. It was Devlin’s. Her gaze darted from the phone to the other side of the bed. No Devlin. She desperately threw back the twisted blankets, hoping to find him. No such luck.

  She brought the phone to her ear. “Ah—nice to meet you? Give me a second, I’ll get Devlin for you.”

  “That’s all right. It might be better if I talk to you.” He chuckled again. “I do have to say, bravo to Devlin. The boy seems to be finally getting away from his drafting table and on the stick. I was starting to worry about him.”

  Chloe glanced toward the open bathroom doorway. No one was there. She scrunched to the end of the bed where she could see the rest of the apartment. No Devlin there either. “He must have taken the dog for a walk. Can I have him call you when he gets back?”

  “Don’t you let the boy escape. He’s a smart one. He’ll be rich one of these days. Quite a catch.”

  “It’s not like that. He and I just—” Chloe snapped her mouth shut before she got herself in deeper. “Sorry—ah.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I was young once. I don’t think any less of you for having some fun. Bravo, I’m quite pleased. But there’s something I want you to tell him for me.” There was silence on the other end for a second. “Devlin and I have had a wee misunderstanding. You don’t mind giving him a message, do you?”

  “Sure, I guess.” It wasn’t like she could just hang up without coming across as rude.

  He cleared his throat. “Tell Devlin he shouldn’t listen to rumors. I didn’t do anything and neither did Uther. Tell Devlin he can’t run away from the truth. We didn’t kill anyone or have her killed.”

  Killed? A chill went through Chloe. She couldn’t have heard that right.

  “You still there, Chloe?” he said.

  “Yeah.” The front door scraped opened and Henry came zinging around the corner, knocking over a pool cue case that was leaning against a wall and leaping onto the bed. Chloe muted the phone and held it up so the dog couldn’t grab it. She called out to Devlin, “Your grandfather is on the phone.”

  “My grandfather?” Devlin frowned as he came around the corner, his face flushed from being outdoors or perhaps from taking a run.

  “His name’s Zeus, right?” His grandfather’s name was hardly easy to forget.

  Devlin took the phone and walked away from her, the dog trailing an inch behind. “What do you want?”

  As Devlin listened for a moment, Chloe slid out of bed, took one of his button-down shirts from the back of a chair, and shrugged it on.

  “She’s not my”—Devlin glanced back at her and cringed as if totally embarrassed— “Yes, she’s smart. Pretty, too. Yes.” His closed his eyes and glanced skyward as if trying to keep his patience. “My personal life isn’t any of your business.”

  Chloe righted the pool cue case that the dog had knocked over, faking interest in it as Devlin paced toward the kitchen. It was hand-tooled leather with his initials stamped into it. Apparently he was serious about the game.

  Devlin’s voice lowered. “This isn’t why you called. You told her what? You shouldn’t be getting her involved. I’ve got to go now.”

  She padded across the sun-warmed floor to where he’d slumped down at the kitchen island, and settled onto the stool across from him. Henry immediately shoved a wet tennis ball onto her lap. She gingerly clutched it and listened as Devlin’s voice became increasingly tense.

  “You should talk to Athena about that. I’m going to hang up now. Goodbye, grandpa.” He thumped the phone down on the island and shook his head. “Sorry about that. My grandfather can be a real ass.”

  “It’s fine, really.” Henry nosed her hand and she carefully lobbed the tennis ball across the kitchen. As he bounded after it, she considered not mentioning
what Devlin’s grandfather had said. On second thought, however, holding back made no sense, so she plunged ahead. “He said something about wanting you to know that he and Uther weren’t responsible for someone getting killed?”

  Devlin huffed out a frustrated breath. “He’s talking about Saille Webster, the Circle’s high priestess who died back in the nineteen-eighties. At the time, my grandfather and Uther Davies were both in the running to take over administrating the coven.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “There are people who still think one of them murdered the priestess, most likely my grandfather. Truthfully, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.”

  Chloe looked at him in surprise. “You really think that?”

  He nodded. “My father was messing around with Uther’s daughter, Rhianna. They were both young teenagers. She got pregnant.”

  “I’m guessing your grandfather wasn’t happy about it?”

  “Neither he nor Uther. From what I gather, the high priestess announced a pending engagement without anyone’s consent. It turned into a nasty and very public mess. My father got sent away to boarding school. Then, around the same time, the priestess died and Rhianna lost the baby.”

  “A regular soap opera.”

  His jaw stiffened, his words coming out strained. “It didn’t end there. My father hooked up with Rhianna years later—a high school reunion or something. She’s the reason my parents split—along with about a dozen of his other girlfriends.” Henry shoved his muzzle under Devlin’s arm. Devlin gave him a few strokes before continuing. “Everyone knowing about my dad’s infidelity was bad enough. Then, while I was away at prep school, the rumors about my grandfather and the high priestess’ death started up again. I’d always admired Zeus, before that.”

  Chloe reached across the island, resting her hand on top of his. “That must have sucked.” She lowered her voice. “My dad told me about the priestess dying, but I didn’t know the part about your grandfather being connected.”

  “If Grandpa Zeus had walked away from the Northern Circle instead of taking over as high priest, he wouldn’t have looked so guilty.” Devlin hesitated. His lips quirked into a smile and his voice shifted abruptly. “However, right now, a large part of me is grateful my grandfather took over. If he hadn’t, I might not have ended up here and met you.”