The Forbidden

by Cheyenne McCray

  Black fire shot up from the ring being burned into the floor and the dancing flames almost mesmerized Junga. The ritual fascinated her as much this time as it had the last.

  Fascinated yet horrified her.

  The initiation and summoning ceremonies were nearly identical to the others, and Junga sent a prayer to Balor that this one would work.

  Yet at the same time she flinched from the thought of serving a god that was truly evil. The Fomorii—they did as they were meant to. Conquer and spread their numbers. This—this evil caused her skin to crawl.

  No doubts. No fears. They were who they were.

  The Fomorii. Mighty. Strong. And not evil.

  Darkwolf chanted to the dark forces of the world, and of the universe. They were Balor’s warlocks, his children, calling upon the great one-eyed god for his aid in this most important moment.

  Impossibly, this ceremony seemed more impressive than the last. Stronger, harsher. The power in the air was like electricity, searing through one being after another. Junga felt it in her body and her heart.

  The low-hanging fog that grew around the warlocks’ feet carried the odor of burned wood. Then the stench of something much worse filled the room. Like death and decay. The more the warlocks chanted, the stronger it became.

  The sense of evil filling the room was more palpable this time, so much so that Junga’s heart stuttered.

  The room shook and shuddered so hard that Junga heard Elizabeth’s voice shouting in her mind, Earthquake. Like the enormous one in 1989.

  Real terror was in that voice, which frightened Junga as much as the rocking of the room, the sway of the chandeliers. Mirrors cracked. Shattered. Witches, as well as the humans huddled at the center of the room, screamed.

  Despite the fact she stumbled in her human form, Junga maintained a sense of pride that her warriors didn’t move. They dug their mighty claws into the floor to keep from sliding or falling in the bucking room. By the twitch of their eyes she could see their terror was as great as her own, but they maintained their posts.

  Strange thoughts flickered through her mind as the bucking seemed to continue forever. Was this lone room rocking within a still hotel? Or was the hotel trembling within a silent city? Or was the entire city being shaken to its core?

  A chunk of ceiling plaster landed on Junga’s head and she almost fell to the floor. For a moment, her sight blurred from the pain of it. She shook her head and saw more plaster raining from the ceiling. Dust joined other smells in the room.

  The black fire had grown so large Junga could barely see the now twelve warlocks within its heated core. Her eyes watered from the smoke, dust, and incense.

  The swaying figures continued chanting, the sound merging with the splinter of wood, the crack of mirrors, the thudding of plaster. Then their voices rose higher and higher, until Junga could hear their words.

  “Bring forth the Fomorii, let it be done. Harbingers of the dark rule to come.”

  Air stirred. The room’s rocking began to slow.

  Junga straightened. Blood pounded so hard in her veins that it vibrated through her.

  Black light flickered throughout the room like lightning in a boiling thunderstorm. Shapes began to appear around the circle of warlocks. Wavering at first. Becoming solid, then transparent again.

  “Bring forth the Fomorii, let it be done. Harbingers of the dark rule to come,” the chanting continued, so loud Junga’s ears rang with it

  The shapes surrounding the warlocks solidified. Enormous demon shapes. Fomorii. Greater than the number that had made the crossing with Junga.

  The rocking of the room stopped. Sounds of crying and screams of the humans faded to moans and sobs. Only an occasional thud of ceiling plaster broke the silence. Flames around the circle slowly died as Junga looked from Fomorii to Fomorii to Fomorii. All great warriors she recognized.

  Including Queen Kanji. Who looked at Junga, obviously recognizing her even though she was in her human form.

  But the Old One—she was not with the others. A shiver erupted beneath Junga’s skin.

  Furious at herself for allowing any fear to enter her mind, Junga stiffened and growled at Bane to guard the witches and set the disposable human prey free.

  Fomorii always enjoyed a good chase.

  October 29

  28

  Silver’s body still ached as she sat at the computer desk in her apartment. She stared blankly at a sheet of paper beneath the pen she held poised in her hand. Polaris was curled around her feet, as if to offer his support.

  She didn’t truly see the paper. Instead, upon its virginal white surface she saw the scenes from yesterday unfold before her eyes.

  One day later, the battle at the park was still fresh in her mind. The horror of it. The sheer pleasure she had felt from killing that beast.

  Tears blurred her eyes and she used her free hand to scrub away the moisture. What had she done?

  What you needed to do, Silver. What had to be done to save yourself and Hawk.

  She clenched the pen tighter with her fingers until they ached.

  The path she was taking—was there any turning back?

  The next thought stunned her.

  Do I want to turn back?

  Silver bit the inside of her cheek, hard. She blinked to clear her vision and the paper came into focus again.

  Slowly she lowered her pen to the paper and began to scratch words across its surface that would hopefully draw the Fomorii out on Samhain, to where she and her team would have the advantage. She wanted to do it now, but Samhain was only the day after tomorrow. Just two more days.

  Her pen made a scratching noise across the paper as she wrote:

  Leader of the Fomorii, Junga:

  I wish to make an exchange with you. My life, my magic, for my parents. They must be whole, must be safe, must be freed to ensure my assistance.

  You will have my cooperation, so long as you meet me at the location on the enclosed map of Golden Gate Park. You must arrive exactly at midnight on Samhain.

  My life, my magic, for my mother and father.

  Silver Ashcroft

  She read the letter over and over, wondering if there was anything else she should say. Anything else she could do to make sure the demons would be there.

  Intuitively she knew they were overconfident, sure of their greater numbers. Earlier she had scried in her cauldron and witnessed the fact that Darkwolf had managed to bring more Fomorii to this world. Not many, but enough to outnumber the free witches and the D’Danann.

  Slowly, carefully, she folded the letter into thirds, creasing each fold sharply before tucking it into a plain white envelope. Her mind and body ached with every movement she made, as if she were handling the most difficult of tasks.

  Just as slowly, she slipped the park map inside the envelope. When she finished, she taped the flap closed, unwilling to lick the seal of something that would soon be handled by evil. She could barely bring herself to touch the thing that she knew would be in the hands of the demons.

  On the front of the envelope she wrote in block letters:

  ATTENTION: ELIZABETH BLACK

  RE: JUNGA

  Silver dropped the pen to the table with a light clatter. That should get her attention.

  Thanks to the escaped witches, Silver and the others knew the name of the leader, and the name of her host body, the woman who had owned the hotel before being possessed by the damned demons.

  Releasing a sigh filled with all the pain and trials of the past few days, Silver pushed herself from her chair at the desk, the envelope clutched in her hand. With heavy steps, she left her apartment and headed downstairs to give one of the D’Danann the envelope to deliver to the hotel, and to hopefully be passed on to the legion leader’s hands.

  Now all she could do was pray to the goddess and the Ancestors. And prepare.

  29

  Junga’s human lips turned into a smile reflecting her humor at the irony of the situation. She was in El
izabeth’s elegant penthouse with Darkwolf, planning to pen a note to Silver Ashcroft, when a hotel employee delivered this letter to her.

  Ah, yes. The witch had saved her the trouble. Junga had no intention of releasing the elder Ashcrofts, she simply planned to use them as bait.

  Darkwolf moved closer to her and she felt the heat of his body, smelled his spicy human male scent. He took the letter from her grasp, leaving her momentarily annoyed at his arrogance.

  He studied the note, then clenched the paper so tightly in his fist that it crumpled within his grip. He brought his other hand to his throat and to the stone eye.

  Junga stared in fascination as red light bled through his fingers, the stone glowing in his grasp. Darkwolf began breathing heavily, his eyes moving beneath his closed lids as if he were watching a movie.

  A wicked smile creased his face, and he opened his eyes so that his dark gaze met Junga’s.

  “We will not have to wait until Samhain to get Silver Ashcroft.” Darkwolf released the stone eye, which continued to glow even as his hand dropped away.

  A sick sense of horror roiled through Junga’s belly as the eye darted back and forth, and then focused on her.

  She cleared her throat. Tore her gaze from the glowing stone to meet Darkwolf’s gaze again. “If you know of a way to claim Silver and the other witches, then speak.”

  “Tomorrow night they will all be in an ideal location that will be to the benefit of the Fomorii. They will be unprepared for attack.”

  The letter drifted from his hand to settle on the living room’s carpet. The look in his eyes became suddenly erotic, as if he were thinking of something that pleased him sexually. “And then I will have Silver Ashcroft.”

  Irrational anger flashed through Junga at his obvious desire for another woman. Followed by sick dread when she heard the queen calling her name from another part of the penthouse.

  A beautiful blonde carrying a handbag and dressed in a revealing blue evening gown sauntered into the room.

  Kanji.

  The former human’s body the queen now inhabited had belonged to Barbara Wentworth, a wealthy woman and senator’s wife. Barbara had been staying at the hotel when Kanji murdered her and took over her shell.

  Kanji fastened her gaze on Darkwolf and it turned seductive as her eyes raked him from head to toe. “Such a fine specimen. For a human,” she murmured.

  A sensual smile eased across the warlock’s expression.

  Horror crawled up Junga’s throat like Fomorii claws. If Kanji forced sex on her with Darkwolf, the queen could learn Junga’s secret.

  “I will—” Junga’s gaze darted to the elevator doors leading from the suite. “I will check on the witches.”

  “You will stay.” Kanji’s cold voice brought Junga’s gaze snapping back to the queen. “It will please me to see the warlock take you in this human form.”

  No, no, no!

  The look in the queen’s blue eyes held fire and a promise that if she wasn’t obeyed, she could very likely slay Junga where she stood.

  Kanji folded her human arms and tapped the toe of her heel. “Bare yourself.”

  Junga clenched and unclenched her jaw, trying hard not to let the queen see her defiance or her fear. She lowered her head in a submissive bow, gritting her teeth before saying, “Yes, my queen.”

  When she looked up at Kanji, the queen wore the blonde woman’s haughty expression upon her features. “Do it.”

  Junga caught the amusement and desire in Darkwolf’s gaze as she slowly unbuttoned her tailored suit to reveal the black lace bra that did little to cover her breasts. She let the jacket slide down her arms and to the carpeting. Her nipples betrayed her, growing hard beneath their gazes and pressing against the lace.

  Kanji gave a throaty laugh. “Hurry, bitch.”

  Startled by the use of the word that Darkwolf called her during their frequent matings, Junga’s hands trembled at the back fastening of her skirt. Had the damnable warlock told the queen about Junga’s submissiveness during sex?

  As she fumbled with the zipper, Kanji gave a sound of impatience. Junga quickly unzipped the skirt and let it drop around her ankles, then stepped out of it. She remained in only her bra, thigh-high stockings and garters. She had taken to not wearing panties and had enjoyed the sensual feel of being partially naked beneath Elizabeth’s business suits.

  Junga struggled to keep herself from trembling beneath the queen’s gaze. Kanji began to walk around Junga, studying her.

  “I can see it,” Kanji murmured, and in that instant she knew the bastard Darkwolf had betrayed her. “She wants you to take her and beat her into submission.”

  Darkwolf’s eyes held both amusement and a promise. Junga trembled with anger, fear, and horribly intense arousal.

  It was then that Kanji unsnapped the evening bag that matched her elegant gown. From within the purse she drew out a large hook.

  Junga’s blood went cold.

  Kanji moved to one wall, hook in hand. She slammed the end of the big iron hook high up on the wall. It broke through the plaster and buried into wood.

  “Her wrists, bind them.” Kanji nodded to the hook. “Loop the ropes over the hook so that she hangs by her wrists.”

  As terror took hold of Junga, Kanji gave an evil smile in Darkwolf’s direction. “And then you have much to show me in the ways of humiliating this bitch.”

  October 30

  30

  Two nights after the attack at the park, Silver snuggled deeper into her black bomber jacket while she climbed onto the houseboat. The majority of the D’Danann were housed there until the battle because they were too numerous to stay in the apartments above the shop.

  Icy bay wind tugged long tendrils from the Celtic serpent knot clipping Silver’s hair back. Her black pants clung snugly to her thighs, her boots comfortably warming her feet and calves.

  Silver walked with the witches and PSF team below deck to the room where the D’Danann were gathered and where tables were laden with food.

  For the strategy meeting tonight, there was plenty to eat. Roasted chickens, spiraled hams, cornbread muffins, potato chips and dip, and anything else Silver and Hawk had been able to find precooked at the grocery store.

  In addition, the witches had made plenty more—vegetarian pizzas, homemade pastas, rice, and other dishes along with lots of sweets such as cinnamon rolls, cakes, and sugar cookies.

  The D’Danann were insatiable. Jake and his PSF team were there for the meeting as well, and their appetites seemed almost as strong as those of the D’Danann.

  Silver had begun to wonder if they’d have to buy a grocery store.

  Hawk had hoarded all the chocolate chip cookies, and Silver had to smile. Her warrior, the chocolate chip cookie monster.

  While she watched the famished warriors eat, Silver leaned back against the doorway in front of another door with steps that led to a lower level of the boat. Even the delicious smells didn’t pique her appetite.

  Hawk, Keir, and Sher had joined their comrades and were also eating their fill. Sounds of laughter and conversation, not to mention a good deal of belching, came from the bunch.

  Silver cast a look to Eric, Mackenzie, and Cassia and she couldn’t help a grin. “Guess that means they approve.”

  Mackenzie pushed her hair behind her ear. “Jeez, can these guys eat.”

  After everyone had eaten their fill, the D’Danann gathered around the table in the houseboat. Some stood, some sat, all were focused intently on the subject at hand.

  For a moment Silver stood and watched them. It was amazing having so many fierce, proud warriors on the houseboat all at once. One could almost taste their lust for battle, and yet their sense of fairness and justice too.

  And damn, the men were powerful, muscular, and gorgeous, and the women beautiful with well-defined muscles and curves.

  Her gaze turned to Keir. Did that man ever need an attitude adjustment. He was dark and powerful, but talk about a real bad boy.
<
br />   The warrior named Tiernan fascinated her, too, a blonde god of a man. She’d learned from Sher that he was a lord of the higher echelon of D’Danann society, used to having his orders followed and not questioned. Silver had noticed that he appeared to be fierce, and proud, methodical, and never impulsive. Yeah, the man really needed a woman who could bring him down to earth and shake him up a little.

  Jake stood just inside a doorway, his arms crossed over his finely sculpted chest, his intense eyes following the conversation, his gaze moving from warrior to warrior. He was just as fierce and deadly looking, not to mention as good-looking, as every other male in the room. That included the PSF team.

  A couple of D’Danann glanced at her then focused their attention back on the conversation. Silver saw Mortimer watching the D’Danann intently from Cassia’s pocket. The mouse’s gaze traveled from one warrior to the next, his whiskers twitching.

  Pain throbbed in Hawk’s arm as he hitched his good shoulder against the wall of the houseboat. He watched and listened to the arguing warriors. At one time he would have been in the middle of the fray, his voice raised louder than anyone’s.

  But after being responsible for Garrett’s death, after his failure to protect Silver at the park, and after almost dying and leaving his daughter parentless, Hawk questioned his own judgment.

  Not that long ago he had wanted to rush into tomorrow night, certain in his arrogance that the D’Danann would win with no casualties.

  With the recent skirmishes and loss of life, he wasn’t so certain any longer. The Fomorii were the most ruthless of foes, the most difficult to fight. The most dangerous. Now with their claws of iron, they were even more so.

  And Silver... Ah, gods. If anything happened to her...

  The thought ripped at his heart more than he would have imagined.