Shifters Forever Worlds Mega Box- Volume 3

by Elle Thorne

  Wherever that point is.

  Patience was definitely not one of his virtues as Jaron had always reminded him.

  They reached a landing in the stairway. The steps continued, going ever lower, it seemed, but Symone stopped here. “This is it.”

  Alara looked around. “What is it? This?”

  A large door, one of iron—or steel—it seemed, was to the side.

  “A door? A door with no handle?” Marco frowned.

  “There’s a handle.” Symone placed her hand on the wall, where a plate twice the size of an outlet was inset at chest-level.

  She closed her eyes and murmured a few words foreign to Marco. And judging from the perturbed look on Alara’s face, foreign to her as well.

  A handle eased out of the door.

  “Magic?” Marco asked.

  “Absolutely.” Symone smiled. “This is a sacred area for my people.”

  They entered a room. Symone took the lamp and lit a long fireplace match, then traveled from spot to spot, lighting lamps on cornices on the walls.

  They beheld the sight before them. A library. Floor to ceiling shelves with tomes of several sizes and from the scent in the room, various ages. A large table of a dark mahogany wood that was scarred and besieged with areas where melted wax had lightened the wood. The table had eight chairs, clearly hand carved and equally ancient.

  “What is this?” Alara’s tone held the awe that Marco felt.

  There was something else he felt. He didn’t know what it was. His panther informed him of it. The room thrummed with the power of… of what? Magic, he supposed. It was old and ancient magic.

  Alara nodded at Marco. “I feel it too.”

  “As do I,” Jaron agreed.

  “This is where we keep history. Annals, chronicles.” Symone pointed to a corner. “Even scrolls.”

  She went from shelf to shelf, wall to wall, her fingers trailing. “Alphabetical. It’s organized. Not by me, by someone before me.” She tapped a shelf. “As, Bs, Cs.” More finger-trailing from shelf to shelf. “Ms, Ns, Os.” A few more steps, another wall, more fingers tapping on shelves. “Ws, Xs, Ys, Zs. Here it is.” She pulled a book from a shelf at waist level. She held the volume with both hands. Bound in faded leather with yellow—or was it gold—lettering.

  Alara stepped closer first, Jaron right behind her, still holding onto her hand. Marco imagined if that was the love of his life and he’d been separated from her for several lifetimes, he’d do the same thing. He trailed them and stepped next to Symone, looking over her shoulder at the slim book.

  Symone held it up, so they could all see. “It’s almost empty. There is nothing much here. Says the Zimoshi are an ancient people of magic. That they can control elements. And they’re now extinct.” She chewed on her lip. “This needs to be filled in, doesn’t it?”

  Marco grunted. “It’s not the only one that needs to be filled in. Think someone wants to bring me up to speed?”

  Alara looked at Jaron.

  Jaron nodded.

  “Agreed,” Alara said. “Perhaps a little later? I promise.”

  “I can wait a bit longer.”

  “And Symone? Could you please wait before you add anything to the book with my people’s history?”

  Symone nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Marco looked up from the tome, took in the library and its contents. “What about this place?”

  “Let’s sit.” Symone indicated the table. “I’d offer you something to drink, but there is nothing down here.”

  “Do not let that concern you,” Alara assured her.

  After they’d all taken a seat at one end of the massive table, Symone plucked and picked at the notches in the wood. “This room, this mountain.” Her voice shuddered. “There was a civilization here eons ago. One that practiced magic—and human sacrifice.” She shivered. “They were not the ones that we were descended from, but we’d heard of them. When they were gone, and we needed a place to call our own, this seemed like the best choice. One that no government or any other entity was aware of. A place within a place, where we could hide.”

  “Hide what?” Marco knew that supernatural beings occasionally had reasons, but he’d not really dealt with this himself.

  “Hide our archives. Hide ourselves if we need to.”

  Marco leaned forward. “Why would you need to?”

  Her expression was cryptic. “We are witches. Magic types have long been persecuted by humans and other beings.”

  She raised a brow at him as though he were the guilty one, then went back to messing with the scars on the table. Only this time, her movements were more frantic.

  Marco shrugged. “Hey, not persecuted by me.”

  “I can attest to that,” Jaron’s voice was low.

  Alara put her hand on Symone’s. “Things are better than they were centuries ago, is that not so?”

  Symone looked up. “It is so. But when you hear stories of your great-aunts and great-great-grandmothers being burned at stakes, or drowned in freezing waters…” She exhaled. “Those things come back to haunt you.”

  Damn. Marco had no idea her family had dealt with that.

  Symone gave them a shaky smile. “It’s fine. I’m sorry. Being in this room. With all the power and history of my ancestors… well…” She cleared her throat. “It becomes overwhelming.”

  “I understand,” Alara said.

  And Marco could tell from her tone that she did. She absolutely did.

  “You didn’t come here to hear me whine about that,” Symone proclaimed resolutely. “So, this became the Circle’s headquarters.” She grimaced. “That sounds so militaristic. I could call it the Circle’s home. But it’s more than just a home. It’s more like home base.”

  Marco couldn’t have said why he did what he did, but he put his hand over hers, the one that wasn’t still in Alara’s grasp. “What about elementals? You seem to have some strong emotions where they are concerned.”

  Symone flicked him a glance, then looked down, but not before he saw tears welling in her eyes. Her eyelashes covered her emotions.

  Shit. Now he’d opened up a can of worms. “I’m sorry.”

  She blinked hard, cleared her throat, then looked at him again. “It’s okay. I promised Alara I’d tell her.”

  “Do you want me to go?” he asked her.

  Alara was gently shaking her head at him as though admonishing him for suggesting it.

  “No. Stay.” Symone glanced at his hand, still on hers, but didn’t pull away.

  That’s something. At least she didn’t jerk her hand away.

  She sat straighter in the chair, clasping her hands together. “Years ago, I lived in Miami.” Her gaze grew distant, as though she were in a faraway place.

  Probably Miami, Marco thought.

  “I had a best friend, Erica—a human. Though goodness knows, my mother had warned me against associating with humans. They can’t handle the issues that come with being in the lives of witches and other such beings. They cannot protect themselves from the weapons of paranormal types.”

  Marco nodded. That was true, though he’d never had anyone tell him he couldn’t get involved with humans, whether it be friendships or otherwise.

  “Erica had a brother. Donald. Nice guy. He had a crush on me.” She shrugged. “We were young. I didn’t take it to be more than that. He was persistent, kept asking me to go out. And Erica pushed for it.” Another shrug. “He was sweet. Cute. So I said yes.” She was looking off in the distance again, though, in the library, there was no distance.

  None of them said anything, simply waiting for Symone to get to the heart of the matter.

  Though Marco did find himself wondering how much she cared for this Donald guy, and if they were serious. And still together. An emotion coursed through him, and he didn’t want to admit that it might be jealousy.

  “Our first date.” She shook her head in disbelief. “We were coming back from the movies. I don’t even remember what we watc
hed. I wish I didn’t remember anything about that night.” She sniffled. “A man intercepted us. We’d just pulled up to my apartment, had gotten out and were making our way to my front door when a bolt—it reminded me of an arrow—passed us and hit the door jamb, then shattered. It was made of ice. I had no idea such a thing existed. I didn’t know about elementals back then. Not really. They weren’t beings that we kept company with, or even knew how to recognize.”

  Alara leaned over and hugged Symone. “I am sorry that your first experience with my kind was so unpleasant.”

  “It gets worse.” Symone wiped a tear from her eye. “The next bolt killed Donald.”

  Marco clenched his jaw. No wonder she had such animosity toward elementals.

  Symone sucked in a deep breath. “I should have listened to my mother. If I had, Donald would be alive, and Erica wouldn’t hate and blame me for her brother’s death.”

  “It’s not your fault that this elemental killed him. He’s the bad seed. Not you.”

  “What happened to the elemental who killed Donald?” Alara probed.

  “Wha—oh, he was captured.” Symone choked back a sob. “Erica saw her brother die. She drove up just when that bolt entered his body.”

  Marco put an arm around her. He didn’t know where to begin consoling her. She buried her head in his shoulder momentarily, and then as if realizing who she was taking solace from, she leaned back and swiped the tears from her face.

  “What happened to him after he was captured,” Alara pushed.

  “He’s in the Circle’s prison.”

  Alara frowned. “Where’s that?”

  “Nearby. Only accessible through a portal.”

  Marco did a doubletake. “Near here?”

  Symone nodded.

  Marco scratched his jaw where the scruff had begun to get itchy. “And how do we get to the portal that leads to him?”

  She scowled at him. “Why? Do you plan to try to set him free?”

  “Nope.” If anything, I’d kill the bastard for making you hate elementals.

  Marco saw the same intent in Jaron’s hard gaze. Jaron gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Marco returned the gesture. They definitely agreed on this matter.

  Alara put her hand over Symone’s. “No one in their right mind would want to do anything to help this cretin.” She cleared her throat. “But I would like to talk to him. To know who he is.”

  “To what end?” Symone looked puzzled.

  “Would you not want to know who it was if one of your kind had committed a heinous act?”

  Symone nodded slowly. “I would.”

  “So will you help me see him? Can you? Or do we need someone else?”

  “I can take you. I don’t make it a habit to go there. I haven’t been there since he was incarcerated. No one has.”

  “Who takes care of him? Sees to his needs?”

  Symone shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s outside my purview of responsibilities. Plus, I’d be fine with it if he rotted away.”

  “Understood.” Marco hoped the smile he’d attempted didn’t look like a grimace, but this elemental bastard made him sick. Why take out a human? Humans were not competition.

  “How do we get there?” Alara asked.

  Symone stood. “We go down, farther into the depths of the mountain’s center. There’s a portal there. It’s got enchantments to keep anyone from breaching it.”

  Marco followed suit and rose to his feet. “Can you get us into the portal? What comes after that?”

  The look she gave him was enigmatic. “The portal leads to a cloaked island nearby.”

  Alara raised a brow. “Cloaked?”

  Symone nodded. “Completely cloaked. No one can see it. It’s not on any maps or satellites or internet searches.”

  “And that’s where he is?” Jaron asked.

  “Indeed. In a structure that resembles a fortress—perhaps even an old temple. He cannot leave the building, nor can he cast any magic through its enchanted perimeter. He can see us. We can see him. And we can talk to him. We can even enter if we wish, but he is bound to the fortress. He cannot leave it.”

  Marco found this magic stuff extraordinary. Granted, being a shifter, especially one that housed an elemental being was nothing commonplace, but he couldn’t perform magic. In fact, what elemental skills he could call on were only because of Jaron. Without Jaron, the only thing that Marco could do was shift into his panther, and then back again. Right, nothing to sneer at, but still, nowhere near as impressive as the magic a witch or warlock possessed.

  Chapter Twenty

  Symone led the way to the portal. Down, down, into the mountain’s lowest reaches, deep into the earth along a stone staircase carved out by a people long extinct. She shuddered. The air down here was chilly, and wouldn’t get any warmer, not when so far from the sun’s warming rays.

  If she were honest with herself, she’d admit the shudder was in part due to the individual they were going to encounter. Years had passed since she’d seen his face. She didn’t need to see him anyway; his features were burned into her memory with the same fierceness a branding iron puts its mark on cattle.

  His handsome face—handsome? She would have had to admit that he was if it weren’t for the twisted soul within him. His looks did not matter. As attractive as the packaging was, the inside was a filthy rot of evil. And she had no interest in seeing him again.

  She shuddered again, this time ready to admit that seeing him again was the cause of it. Him. Because she had no name for him, the evil being that killed a good man and destroyed her friendship with Erica. And if she had to admit it, she’d have confessed that his actions also destroyed a part of Symone. The part of her that believed in goodness. She’d become cynical and a recluse after that incident. She’d accepted the position the Witches’ Circle had given her on the island and in the southern hemisphere. And she’d ruled with an abstract and detached manner, never meddling in matters that were small or petty.

  She’d also forgotten to live, but that was another matter altogether. And it was not a matter she was willing to discuss with any—

  A warm grip on her shoulder made her whip around.

  Marco appraised her face with a concerned look on his own. “Are you okay?”

  She glanced over his shoulder and saw Alara and Jaron trailing them, but had fallen behind in their descent of the stone staircase. She turned her gaze back to his dark eyes. Eyes filled with warmth and sincerity. Did men like him really even exist anymore? Who weren’t elementals or shifters, because she was not messing with either, though each for different reasons.

  “I’m fine. Why?” She gave the hand on her shoulder a pointed look.

  He glanced down at his hand but didn’t move it. “Because you shivered. And…”

  She waited, but he didn’t continue. “And what?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “No. What? Tell me.” She chewed on her lip. The same lip that had felt his not long ago. Though, damn, it seemed like forever ago. She purposefully kept from looking in his eyes. Those eyes were dangerous. She could get lost in them.

  “I wish you trusted me.”

  That one caught her off-guard. “Trust you? Why? Why does it matter anyway?”

  A finger on her chin tipped her head back until she was forced to look in his eyes. Unless she wanted to spend her time staring at his lips. Which she did, really, she did, but that wouldn’t do. He was a shifter. An elemental too.

  Then she thought of it. Was he really an elemental if Jaron was not in him? If they were separated, as they were now? And were shifters all that bad? For that matter, were all elementals bad? She’d come to like Alara, to trust her.

  He cleared his throat, and she realized she hadn’t said anything to him. Or had he said anything else? Had he asked a question? Did she miss something?

  “What?” she asked, hoping that it wouldn’t give away her thoughts, or that she was actually softening toward him.

  “I
said I wish you trusted me.”

  “Right. And I asked you why it mattered.”

  He exhaled deeply. His breath warm against her cheek. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.” His tone was resigned.

  “Wait. I didn’t mean it that way…”

  “What way, then?”

  “I meant, like was there a project that you needed me to feel I trust you for? Something specific?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing that I can think of.”

  And with that, he took a step down and broke what had felt to her like a connection. A fragile connection she’d shattered.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Marco couldn’t understand this woman. Just couldn’t get her to save his life. For a moment, he felt like he was making headway with her, the next—poof!—connection gone.

  He knew they had chemistry. His shifter senses told him she felt it too. The way her heartbeat quickened when she talked to him. How her pulse fluttered in the vein on her neck. The flaring of her nostrils. She felt the chemistry just as much as he did. So, why was she being such a hardass?

  He didn’t have time to figure this one out. He knew that Alara and Jaron had an agenda. So though he might have thought he was on vacation, with their plans, he couldn’t really think of it in this way. He had a mission to help them. And for some reason, Alara seemed to want to meet the murderous elemental that killed Symone’s date.

  She had a plan, or an idea, that much was clear. But as to what that plan was, that was not clear to Marco at all. Not one damned bit. He wanted to glance back at Alara, to see if he could find some way to talk to her, to learn her plans, but that would mean looking at Symone, and he didn’t want to do that. So he pressed on, leading the way down a stone staircase that led to who knew where in a dank, moist, chilly environment that didn’t seem friendly, into the belly of this beast of a mountain.

  Take a vacation, he mimicked Camden’s words. You need some time off, he mocked Eden too.

  Some time off this was. Some vacation.

  And so he walked, lost in his own thoughts, ignoring Symone’s presence, how the scent of her teased his panther and tempted him. How the knowledge that her pulse was beating, and his panther had synchronized their pulse to hers.