The Forbidden

by Cheyenne McCray

  Intuition told him all was not as it seemed when it came to this witch.

  But if he could not determine what she was, then she must be someone—or something—very powerful.

  “You’re not who Silver thinks you are,” he said, watching Cassia closely.

  She jerked her attention from her task to Hawk. She gave him a puzzled yet calm look. “Excuse me?”

  He waited a few moments to answer, hoping her anxiety would rise. “I’m not sure what you are,” he said, “but you’re not what you pretend to be. You are something other.”

  Cassia didn’t even look flustered. “I’m a D’Anu apprentice.”

  “You’re more than that,” Hawk said quietly. “What are you?”

  When her eyes met his, they were wary, perhaps holding a hint of anger in them. “I’m Silver’s apprentice. And I’m her friend.” She frowned as she brushed her hands on her blue apron. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

  He strode toward her so that they were standing but a few inches apart. Being much taller than her, he had to look down to meet her gaze. “If you are a threat to Silver, I will know.”

  She studied him, no fear in her eyes, only a self- assurance he hadn’t seen there before. “Regardless of what you think I am, be assured I would never harm her.”

  A mouse peeked its head from Cassia’s pocket and chittered at Hawk, as if reprimanding him.

  Hawk glanced at the mouse, then back to Cassia’s face. His gaze held hers a few seconds, and then with a final flash in her eyes, the witch turned away.

  Thoughtfully, he watched her for one more long moment. He sensed no animosity, no danger from her. She might bear looking out for, but he sensed nothing beyond the fact that she was other. “Thank you for the cookies,” he said, before leaving the kitchen to walk back into the shop.

  His boots thudded on the wood flooring as he entered the darkened, cluttered store. A variety of smells assailed him. Some familiar, some not. Most came easily to his mind, like this place’s language did. Scents of vanilla, sandalwood incense, herbs, juniper, and countless more smells filled the room.

  He strode around the perimeter of the shop, as best he could while dodging hanging wind chimes and glittering crystals. He rounded shelves containing books, candles, bottles of potions, and packages of herbs, passed an elegant display case with a variety of jewelry, mostly silver, including multiple pentagrams. Even in Otherworld, the pentagram was a powerful totem.

  Who is Cassia? he asked himself as he pushed aside colorful robes hanging on a rack to where the back door was almost hidden. He would tell Silver of his feelings about the witch when he had the opportunity.

  He tried the knob to the back door and found it locked, but bells jangled above it when he gave it a hard tug. How did the cat called Spirit enter the shop?

  He rounded the room again and paused to look out one of the front windows. His expanding knowledge of this place through assimilation, and his studies in Otherworld, told him that the metal contraptions occasionally moving up and down the steep hill were cars—a method of transportation.

  Hawk snorted. Give him his wings and a good, strong wind over these pollution-causing vehicles.

  Before he had arrived at Silver’s business and place of residence, he had spent some time investigating the city. The smells, the taste of the air were alien to him. As were the machines called airplanes that flew overhead, the buildings known as skyscrapers, and countless other unfamiliar things. Earth had been nothing like this when he had fought the Fomorii in Ireland all those centuries ago.

  While he stared out the window, Hawk’s thoughts turned again to Silver. He could clearly picture her as he had seen her on the beach last night. Moonlight caressing every inch of her bare skin. The beauty and grace in her stance, in her poise.

  Gods, how he wanted to touch Silver, to feel her. More had called to him than her summoning spell. It had been her spirit, her keen desire to protect her people. Everything about her drew him, almost too much. He could easily lose himself to her, and that was something he couldn’t allow to happen.

  Guilt at the mere thought assailed him. He would never love or care for another as he had loved Davina.

  Never.

  11

  While she headed up the stairs toward her apartment, Silver nearly bit her tongue hard enough to taste blood. Her father’s rants often had that effect. She loved the man deeply, but when he was on a roll, he wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise.

  Her head pounded with the sound of his voice. What she would give for a good headache tonic right now. Victor Ashcroft’s dominating personality had helped drive her away from home to join the San Francisco D’ Anu Coven all those years ago.

  His deep baritone thundered with reprimand. Silver fought a sense of shrinking to the size of a young clumsy witch who hadn’t mastered a single spell.

  Ridiculous.

  She was an Adept of one of the most powerful D’Anu Covens.

  Before the Fomorii had taken every witch in her Coven.

  A dull ache settled in Silver’s stomach as she pressed the phone to her ear. Still listening to her father yammer, she slipped into her apartment and stepped onto the hardwood flooring. She kicked off her heels and moved to a plush blue and white throw rug that felt soft and comforting beneath her bare feet.

  “The entire Coven.” Victor’s voice chased away any semblance of comfort. Her father always managed to make her feel like she was being yelled at even though he hadn’t yet raised his voice. “Gone. All but you and two apprentices!”

  “They took us by surprise—” she started.

  “Don’t presume to think I don’t know about your using dark spells, young lady.” She could picture his heavy body tense with anger, his face red and his jowls shaking with the force of it. “I saw in my scrying cauldron that you attempted to invoke beings you had no earthly right to call upon. What did I teach you, Silver? No sorcery under any circumstances. We didn’t use it to find your sister, and we won’t use it now. No dark sorcery.”

  Oh. That’s why he’s so mad. Of course, he thinks gray witchcraft is nearly as bad as sorcery.

  She straightened her spine. “I did not use sorcery. Nor will I ever.” Even though he wasn’t in the room with her, she raised her chin and clenched one fist at her side. And she didn’t tell him about the hundred or so times she had used a gray spell to try to locate Copper—with no success.

  “I am a gray witch, Father. Not a white witch, not a black witch, but gray.”

  This time his voice blazed as he spoke in a slow, measured tone. “By the Ancestors, I will disinherit you if you dare say that again.”

  “I am a gray witch,” Silver said forcefully. “Copper was—is—a gray witch. We believe in fighting back to protect the innocent and those we love. If that means using magic that leans to gray, we will.”

  “That’s it, young witch.” His voice went impossibly lower, yet still had the power to intimidate. Still had the power to make her tremble. “You are no longer—”

  His words were suddenly cut off as Moondust Ashcroft came on the line. “Silver, dear,” she said in her ethereal tone. Silver could picture her mother in a flowing white dress, her platinum-gray hair spilling over her shoulders in a shimmering waterfall. Her gray eyes filled with concern.

  In the background, Silver heard her father bellow, “Gray witch, my Grimoire. That’s no doubt what brought Copper to her fate. I will not lose another child to this madness.”

  “Hi, Mother.” Despite the horrors of the past two days, Silver felt a wash of peace as her attention turned toward her mother. Moondust had that effect on most people, Victor being the exception. But Moondust was the only person who could contradict him, calm him even, take control of a situation without appearing to do so.

  “What’s this about being a gray witch?” Concern laced Moondust’s voice. “You know the line between gray and black is so fine...”

  “Yes, Mother.” Silver kept her tone even.
“But I believe that evil allowed to exist could harm us all. What I’m doing is fighting evil, and I believe that’s a witch’s duty. Protecting the innocent. Balancing the scales of magic. We can’t pretend this is all going to go away if we ignore it.”

  Moondust sighed. “My little witch—”

  “I’m a full-grown Adept.” Silver pushed her hair over her shoulder as she clenched the phone tighter to her ear with her other hand. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Silver imagined the determined look on her mother’s Elvin features as she said, “I think it best if we come for a visit.”

  Fear tightened Silver’s gut. “No! Stay in Massachusetts. It’s too dangerous here now.”

  Moondust’s voice was soft, musical, but Silver knew all too well that her mother would never waver once she made a decision. “When we’re packed and find a house sitter, we’ll head out on the earliest flight we can catch.”

  “You can bet your Book of Shadows we’ll be out there!” her father roared in the background. “Straighten her out.”

  No doubt if witches could really fly brooms like in folk tales, or appear and disappear at will, her father would already be standing next to her. Yes, she needed strong witches like her father beside her, but she didn’t want her parents anywhere near the Fomorii.

  “It’s not safe.” Urgency and heightened fear rushed Silver. “Let me handle this.”

  “See you soon, love,” Moondust said in her peaceful tone. “Blessed be.”

  The line clicked. All Silver heard was the hum of the dial tone. A sick feeling filled her belly. Her parents would be here—in danger.

  She punched the off button and barely restrained herself from throwing the phone to the far wall. Instead she flung out her arm. Pent-up magic burst from her fingertips, sending her couch pillows flying and tumbling across the room.

  One pillow shot past her and took out a vase on an end table, with a smash of glass as it shattered across her hardwood floor. Another pillow slammed into the wall, knocking down an oil painting of the Golden Gate Bridge. The frame broke with a loud crack as it landed. The third pillow gave a soft thud as it hit something directly behind her.

  Silver whirled. She stumbled backward as she found herself face-to-face with Hawk. How the warrior had come to be in her apartment so silently, she had no idea. He had one of her sapphire-blue pillows clutched in his big fist and an expression of concern on his handsome features.

  Immediately she caught the scent of him. Wild, untamed, and utterly masculine. A thrill rippled through her. The attraction she felt every time he was near was madness.

  “What are you doing in my apartment?” She snatched the pillow from him and held it to her chest, doing her best to ignore the immediate effect he had on her. Why did her body tingle from head to toe, just from his mere presence? By all the magic in the city, things were too critical now to be thinking of anything but saving her people.

  Besides, she didn’t even know this man, this D’Danann.

  “We need to talk,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “Your door was open.”

  Silver tossed the pillow back onto the couch and set the phone on her coffee table with a loud thunk. Frustrated, she turned to look at the glass scattered on her floor. Normally she didn’t use her magic so casually, but she was in no mood to mess with it in the human way. She snapped her fingers. The glass scooted across the floor into a pile, until her magic retrieved every piece.

  She ignored Hawk while she slipped into her closet-sized kitchen, grabbed the garbage can from beneath the sink, and returned to the living room. With another snap of her fingers, glass shards rose into the air and spilled into the can in a glittering waterfall.

  Silver returned the can to the kitchen, and after picking up the broken picture frame and putting it aside, she came back to where Hawk stood. He was so large that he dwarfed his surroundings. His arrogant expression and regal bearing dominated the very air between them. The broadness of his shoulders, the way he carried himself—this was a man who commanded attention, who always got what he wanted.

  And he was damned sexy.

  Silver flicked her fingers at the front door, and it shut with a loud thump. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her skirt, plopped down on the cream-colored couch, and sat on the edge of the soft cushions. Immediately she jumped up and began to pace. “We’re wasting time. What is happening? We have to do something.”

  Hawk sat on the couch, on the edge, facing her, his sword scabbard lightly scraping the floor. He looked so out of place on the delicate furniture. His black leather clothing was a sharp contrast against the white of the couch, as were his dark looks.

  Out of nowhere came a thought that caused her whole body to flare with heat. What would her pale skin look like against his tanned flesh?

  Silver brought her thoughts to an abrupt halt, mentally shaking herself. But then her eyes locked with his for one long moment. A connection sizzled as if one of her spellfire balls had grown between them, drawing instead of repelling.

  Hawk could barely take a breath as his eyes held Silver’s. But then a movement caught his attention and he tore his gaze from hers. In a flash his dagger was in his hand and poised to strike an enormous snake. It was slinking up the back of the couch behind his shoulders, its tongue flicking out and its wicked eyes focused on Hawk.

  His shoulders remained tense even as he realized it was Silver’s godsdamn familiar.

  He hated snakes.

  Silver moved toward the couch. Gently stroking the snake’s scales, she glanced at Hawk and he could have sworn a smile teased the corner of her mouth. “Don’t you remember Polaris?”

  Hawk slowly lowered his dagger, keeping his eyes on the snake. Adrenaline still rushed through his system as he shoved the weapon back into its sheath. The python flicked his tongue at Hawk who just grunted.

  The damnable thing was at least eight feet long, and as thick as an apple. A very large apple. Out of every creature in this world, the witch had to have a snake.

  Silver perched on the edge of the couch again, opposite Hawk. Polaris eased along her shoulders and partially into her lap so that she was stroking his head.

  “You’re the expert on the Fomorii. Tell me what we need to do to send them back where they came from, and we’ll do it,” she said with a combination of conviction and uncertainty in her voice.

  Hawk tried not to look at the snake and studied Silver for a long moment. The proud tilt of her chin, the determination in her gray eyes. Gods, she was beautiful. It took effort to focus on her words.

  “We need more of my people.” He clenched his hands in frustration that other warriors hadn’t joined him when he’d been summoned. “Only the D’Danann can slay the demons.”

  “No killing.” Silver shook her head. “They must have weaknesses that can aid us in returning them to Underworld. They can shape-shift into human form, so they have to have some human weaknesses while they’re changed, right?”

  “That will be to our advantage.” He moved his hand to rest on the hilt of his sword.

  Silver leaned forward, and Hawk’s gaze dropped to the opening of her blouse. The silky material gaped, exposing the curve of her breasts, and he almost groaned.

  “How do we know who they are?” she asked while he struggled to focus on the conversation and not the way her breasts rose and fell in her agitation, beneath the silk of her blouse. “They can look like any human,” she continued. “For all we know, a Fomorii could now be the governor of California.” She frowned. “Which would explain a lot.”

  “I can sense them—normally.” He raked his hand through his hair in frustration. “I believe the warlocks’ dark power is shielding them from me somehow.”

  Silver’s pretty mouth twisted with concern. “What if they summon more Fomorii?”

  “Because the membrane is so thick between Underworld and Otherworlds, it is likely to be difficult for them to bring over more of their kind.” Hawk tapped his thigh with his fingers. “
Until the veils are at their thinnest...”

  Silver’s eyes widened. “Samhain. That’s when it’s easiest to cross worlds.”

  He gave a slow nod.

  “Crap.” She rubbed one bare foot over the other. “Tell me more. Maybe something you share will help me scry in my cauldron.”

  “They tend to work in legions. Each legion with a leader,” he said. “And likely they found a location to use as a lair and will stay close to it until they summon more of their kind. Not to mention they smell of rotten fish.” He frowned. “Except when in forms other than Fomorii. It makes it very difficult to detect them when they are not in their demon bodies, even without the help of sorcery.”

  She slipped Polaris from her shoulders and draped him along the back of the couch as she eased to her feet. “I need to relax so I can think better. I’m going to make a cup of tea. Would you like anything?”

  He followed her lead and stood. “Do you have any more cookies?”

  Silver rolled her eyes. Hawk wasn’t certain, but he thought he caught the slightest hint of indulgence in her expression. Perhaps a bit of affection? Interest?

  Her bare feet padded across the wooden floor until she reached the kitchen tile. “I’ll fix dinner and we’ll talk about what we need to do next.”

  With one fleeting glance at Polaris, Hawk took off his weapon belt and draped it over the arm of a chair before following her to the tiny kitchen.

  Silver couldn’t escape her over-awareness of Hawk. When he reached the kitchen he hitched his shoulder against the doorway, dominating the space, his arms folded across his broad chest. Hawk’s mere presence unnerved Silver, making her body feel jittery and shivery all at once.

  “What would you like to drink?” She peeked into her refrigerator. “I have water and beer.”

  “Ale would do,” he said.

  She grabbed a bottle from the fridge, popped it open with a bottle opener, and handed it to him. While he took a swig of beer, then made a face and mumbled about strange brewing practices, she put a small copper kettle of water on the stove and turned on the burner. It made a snapping, then a whooshing sound as it came on, followed by the scent of natural gas and flame.