by Liv Brywood
“It’s at my shop. I’ll get it. Don’t go anywhere.”
“I’ll be inside working on a scrying spell.”
I release my dragon. My bones snap and shift. The dry rasp of iridescent scales sliding across each other fills the air. My wings spread wide, and I take flight toward my shop.
A few minutes later, I arrive there. I shift back into my human form so I won’t break anything. I just repaired the window this morning, and I’m not in the mood to have to fix more broken glass right now.
I find the necklace exactly where I’d left it, sitting on my worktable. Bits of metal and string cascade down from the design’s focal point—a blood-red Jasper cabochon. The semi-precious stone is streaked with veins of deep black and rich gold. It’s as large as the palm of my hand.
With my claws, I’d carved a spiral pattern of runes into the stone. I’d bound my own magic to it through a blood incantation. If she needs me, she can call me using this necklace, and when she’s wearing it, I’ll be able to find her anywhere.
After wrapping the gift in a satin-lined wooden box, I grab several long lengths of twine which I’ll use to secure the package.
Standing in the street, I shift into my dragon form. My claws are unwieldy, but I manage to bind the gift box to my neck. I want to leave my claws free in case any of those possessed crows try to attack me. I could easily defend myself against one or two, but if the entire flock of hundreds comes at me, then I’ll need to be ready to maneuver without worrying about dropping the gift.
When I arrive at her home, the last rays of sunlight are illuminating the trees around the cottage. For now, the branches are free of crows. I find my discarded clothes folded neatly on the porch. I shove her gift into the pocket of my pants.
As I dress, I spot Azealia through the cottage window. She’s gathering glass bottles and other supplies. When she sets them on the kitchen table, the caged crow squawks in protest at its captivity. Since she’s busy, I don’t want to interrupt her. There’s something I’ve been meaning to do anyway, and it’s better that I do it when she’s inside where she’s safe in case my magic goes awry.
I set her gift on the porch before heading toward the edge of the forest. The golden shield she’s placed around her cottage is beautiful and powerful, but something compels me to reinforce it. She deserves peace, beauty, quiet and veneration, not these wretched attacks, or the invasion of these unknown, hostile—
Intruders are kept out by spell work, not poetry, my dragon says.
He’s right.
After asking the trees’ permission, I break sturdy branches off several cedars. I carry a whole armload toward an open space between the cottage and the garden. Using an axe, I cut the broken limbs into stakes and leave them in a pile. I need one more item.
In her garden shed, I locate the twine she uses to tie bundles of herbs together. It’s sturdy enough to weave, and it should easily hold my knot magic.
Using what’s left of the setting sun to guide my path, I pound a circle of stakes around the cottage. I wrap the twine around the first stake and begin using knot magic to reinforce the protective spell. Every few feet, I tie another magical knot, infusing it with protective intent as I work.
When I’m done creating the powerful circle of protection, I stand back to survey my work. It’s beautiful and humming with power, like Azealia.
“You’re beautiful to watch,” she calls, startling me.
I turn to see her posed in the doorframe. Her arms are crossed against the cold. She has that blue starlight fabric wrapped around her hips and only my shawl to cover her breasts. She stuns me, captivating me with her beauty. A deity to be worshipped, venerated—
“I never would have thought of it myself. Where did you learn it?” she asks, and when I continue to stand there, stunned by her beauty, she frowns. “Are you all right?”
She smells of worry, my dragon growls, faint smoke trailing from his nostrils.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be. This is deeply intricate work, and you’ve been at it for hours.”
Have I?
I glance up. The moon is high in the sky. “I suppose I have.”
“Did your mother teach you?” She beckons me into her cottage. It’s colder than it should be. Her fire’s gone low in the hearth.
“She taught me when I was a boy.” I move toward the woodpile to gather a stack of logs to feed the fire.
I’m rewarded with a quick smile. “Your mother was an incredible weaver. She made the best cloth on the mountain. What happened to her was a tragedy. She was taken from us far too soon.” Azealia’s tone is laced with sadness.
I nod as my chest constricts. To distract myself from the pain, I try to arrange the firewood in a way that will generate the most warmth. I breathe fire and the kindling catches. Flames lick higher as I stand back to survey my work.
Azealia lays her hand on my forearm. Her pale green eyes catch mine. I can’t look anywhere else but at her, not that I’d want to. She’s trying to comfort me, but the ache never goes away. My mother was killed by another witch for her power. I rarely talk about her, and I don’t want to remember what I saw. I can’t fall back into that abyss.
She slides her hand up to my bicep and her gaze drops to my mouth. The memory of kissing Azealia sparks flames of desire deep in my core. I wonder what she thinks about the kiss. I step closer, my most painful memories forgotten.
“This is the gift I went to fetch.” I pull the box out of my pocket.
“You spoil me.” She laughs, and her cheeks color.
I present my creation in the palm of one hand. She looks to me and then at the box. With a small wave of her fingers, the lid opens on its own. When she sees the necklace, the light that washes over her features astounds me.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” she whispers.
“Neither have I.” But I’m not looking at the necklace, I’m looking at her.
Our gazes lock. For a moment, the world stands still.
When she turns and lifts her hair, the scent of honeysuckle fills the room. I lift my creation and settle it into the perfect hollow of her throat, above the mating charm that bear gave her.
I clasp it, settling the cold chain onto her skin and appreciating the delicate shiver that passes through her. She lets her hair fall. I brush it over one of her shoulders, just to touch her, just to catch that scent again. I let my fingers trail softly down the side of her neck.
I lean closer, drawn in by the warmth of her. My lips graze her shoulder, and her scent consumes me. She shivers, leaning back to cradle my head as I kiss her again. She turns to face me. I slide my hands into her luxurious hair and dip to kiss her waiting lips. She moans and wraps her arms around my shoulders. I delve into the kiss, parting her lips with my tongue, searching for something only she can give me. I’ve never wanted like this before. I’ve never needed anyone, until her.
As the kiss smolders, she slides her hands under my shirt. My belly clenches, not because her hands are cold, but because she’s setting off little sparks of pleasure with her fingertips. I can’t imagine how good it would be to make love to her. I don’t know if I’d survive it, but even if I perished, lost in the ecstasy of her, I’d die a happy man.
A loud crash shatters the air. Something smashes into the barrier just past her house. I glance out the window at the thin ribbon of gold around her property. It shudders once, then again, and again. Ten, twenty, thirty impacts.
Azealia screams as the magic of her ward breaks and a swarm of bats flies in, each with bright, blood red eyes. They flap wildly, blocking out the stars, and then almost as one slam into the magic of my string barrier.
Their shrill screeching deafens me. I slam my hands over my ears. Azealia does the same, falling to the ground near my feet. A flash of light as bright as the sun blinds me. The bats hiss. The smell of burnt flesh seeps through the cottage walls. With another painful screech, they depart, wisps of smoke trailing in their wake.<
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I drop to a crouch next to Azealia. Small trails of blood dribble from her nose and ears. She looks dazed and disoriented. The backlash of magic from her broken ward might have caused a concussion. But more than anything, she looks afraid.
Azealia’s the most powerful witch in Bonfire Falls. It would have taken an extremely powerful force to crack her ward. Powerful, and deadly.
I draw her close. She curls into me, and clings to me. Fear turns her eyes a deep forest green. Smoke trails from my nostrils like incense, and I send up a prayer with it to the gods. If I’m to keep my mate safe, I must find this monster.
Chapter 10
Azealia
It would have been easier to get Cobalt to leave if I hadn’t clung to him like a newborn baby. The backlash of magic from my fallen ward stuck me hard enough to steal my breath. I need to be alone. I need time to think. And I can’t do it with his arms around me. When he’s holding me, all I want to do is surrender to his strength. I want to steal it for myself, but I’d never do that to him. My heart would fracture if I ever tried to betray him like that.
“The bats were lost,” I say in a shaky tone.
“Lost?”
“They use echolocation to find their prey. They would have sensed the ward. They never would have flown directly into it.”
“I’m staying with you tonight.”
“No. You should go and warn the others. Something is coming for me. Something dark and terrible.” I shiver.
“I’m not leaving you.” He helps me to my feet. “Don’t send me away.”
“Cobalt,” I gaze into his luminous eyes. “I can’t concentrate when you’re here.”
“I’ll be quiet. I’ll sit by the fire and I won’t bother you unless—”
“Please!”
“Are you sure?” He asks with a frown.
“Yes.”
“The necklace, I imbued it with—”
“It’s a locator charm. I know. Thank you.”
“If you need me—”
“I need you, but not in the way you might think,” I murmur.
The air around us thickens. Part of me wants to keep him here with me, but I can’t. I wasn’t lying when I told him I can’t focus when he’s here. I’m too caught up in thoughts of what his gorgeous, artistic hands could do to my body.
He kisses me before he leaves. I watch him through the window as he shifts and flies away. I trust him to tell the others what just happened. I can sense his jealousy when Bastian and Kael are near, but I can’t think about that complication right now, not with everything that’s happening.
I set a bowl of moonlight-charged water on the table. I stare into its depths. Willing my eyes to stop seeing this world, I open my third eye. Using a faint trail of energy from the captured crow, I travel on the ethereal plane toward my nemesis. I can never reach her, but I know her name. I saw it when I was scrying.
Eleonore von Schwarzenberg.
Images of Europe from hundreds of years ago fill my head. German cathedrals and Prussian military uniforms parade across my mind’s eye. A tomb sealed over with heavy stone vibrates malevolence. Red eyes peer in my soul. Fangs that drip with blood—A vampire!
That’s it. That’s who, or what, I’m dealing with.
Dressed in aristocratic clothes, she exudes money and power. A powdered wig curls intricately around her face and shoulders. A corset nips her waist into narrow submission. Silk brocade falls to form the elaborate folds of her dress. Early eighteenth century, if I’m not mistaken.
But this is an old vision. She wouldn’t look like this now. If my long years have taught me anything, it’s the need to blend in with the passage of time. Someone would have noticed her failure to age in the lifetimes she’s been alive if she hadn't changed her appearance. And because of this, she could blend into today’s society. She could be anyone, anywhere. She could be in Bonfire Falls right now.
Icy fingers slide across my spine. I don’t know how to kill a vampire. They’ve never infested Bonfire Falls, and I would know if they had because I’ve been here for centuries. As far as I know, they’re a European scourge. They haven’t troubled this side of the Atlantic since they were snuffed out in the early seventeenth century.
Is that what attacked me yesterday? A vampire?
I need more information. My eyes burn, my bones ache, and I desperately need to sleep, but I carry on. The urge to pull a sleeping potion from my medicine cabinet is set aside. There will be time to sleep after the threat is gone.
Or maybe when, at last, I am dead.
I pull my books down, pouring through each one. Assyrian, Turkish, and Babylonian, the language doesn’t matter, I’ve learned them all.
A vision of Kael as he plays with those baby wolves pops into my head. He’ll make a good father one day. He’s tough and demanding, but that’s his nature, not an indication of vindictiveness.
Stop it.
I decipher Old Norse, with tales of Cold Ones who haunted villages further north than I’ve ever been. Their stories are haunting and at times, terrifying.
Each time my mug is low, I charm my kettle to make more tea. The steam that wafts from it reminds me of the smoke that filters out of Cobalt’s lungs when he’s angry.
Focus.
I read, and read, finding so little it frustrates me. Garlic does nothing to stop vampires; apparently, it’s an old wives’ tale. Severing their head only stops them for a time. I search for more ways to kill a vampire, but there are conflicting descriptions. Nothing makes sense, so I change direction and focus on animal possession instead.
Unfortunately, I don’t find anything useful, only horror stories meant to scare children. The terrible descriptions of their powers will keep me up tonight. Sleep will be but a distant fantasy. I wish Bastian was here. The bear shifter’s powerful embrace always makes me feel so safe.
Enough of that.
When my books fail me, I look out the window toward the moon. It’s an hour from dawn, maybe less. I need sleep. I need peace.
I make my way to my room, stripping my clothes as I do. With a wave of my hand, I levitate logs and pile them into the fireplace. Effortlessly, I relight and stoke the fire.
As I lay on the bed, I sigh. I should have let Cobalt stay. I could call Bastian with the claw necklace or go to Kael. Maybe I’m being too greedy, but I want all three of them. I care about them all, but for different reasons.
I know there are witches who take more than one consort. In an effort to amplify their magic, I’ve seen witches form triads. The more bonds there are, the more powerful they become. However, I’ve never seen shifters in similar arrangements. Each partner must be equal to all the others in the group, otherwise it won’t work. So how could I ever expect my guys to agree to share me?
Bastian cares about me in a way that makes me trust him. He’s steady, firm, a rock when I need someone by my side. But I can tell that my magic scares him. He’s in awe of me, but he’s also slightly afraid of me.
Kael, on the other hand, is a strong and powerful leader. I’d never have to hide my magic from him the way I would from Bastian. In addition to that, I wouldn’t have to live up to Cobalt’s lofty expectations. With Kael, we’d wield enough power to keep crows at bay, to vanquish bats, maybe even destroy vampires. Together we could stop the endless wars that have nearly destroyed Bonfire Falls. But as much as I want him, I can’t ignore the others.
Carefully, so I don’t accidentally summon him, I trace the runes on the necklace Cobalt gave me. He’s beautiful, gentle, and so creative. He looks at me like I’ve hung the moon and the stars, and he worships me like it’s my due. But sometimes he can’t come down from that lofty place in the sky. He’s not grounded enough.
Each man has positive and negative qualities, and yet together, they give me everything I need. If I had to choose just one guy, it would be impossible. I couldn’t do it. I can’t pick one over the others.
But what if I could have them all?
Call them,
the lonely part of me says. You can summon them all, bring them here, and make them love—
I’m out of my bed before I can finish the thought.
Love.
Absolutely not. Not after what Adrian did to me. Not after his betrayal. I vowed never to fall in love again, so why am I indulging these feelings for my guys?
A headache pierces my skull.
Have you forgotten the pain? The betrayal? No. Never again.
My nose wrinkles in disgust.
I can’t stay in the house a second longer. Clouds are gathering outside in the predawn light. I remember what Kael said about the storm that gathered last time I was upset. I need to be outside in fresh air. I need to ground and center myself before I start a mountain thunderstorm.
Barefoot, I dart into my garden. I focus on the soles of my feet, trying to ground some of my panicked energy. I’m so caught up in my emotional turmoil that I miss the sound of paws in the dirt until it’s too late.
Low growls vibrate the air as wolves close in around me. They’re so large that they must be shifters. They’re not wild wolves. I freeze under the predatory gaze of their silvery eyes. One wolf springs out from the underbrush. I don’t react fast enough, and it pins me to the ground. Its muzzle is inches from my face. Its hot breath bursts across my nose and the putrid scent of death assaults my senses.
All around me teeth snap. Snarls sound. Claws scrape at the earth. There are five, six, seven of them, all converging on me. One grabs my wrist and shakes it in a death grip. Another grabs my ankle.
I scream.
As their teeth sink into my flesh, I fling my arms up and push at them with my magic.
Nothing happens. None of my spells work.
I reach into their minds, past the haze of silvery eyes, and find nothing but the drive to kill. It consumes them, drowning all other thoughts in a layer of red, like the blood that spills from me, like the eyes of that vampire.
A burst of magic explodes from beneath my skin. It fires out in every direction, tossing the nearest wolves back thirty feet or more, ending their lives in a flash. The scent of smoldering fur fills the air. I struggle to stand as a constant stream of magic flies from my fingers. Thunder rolls through the heavens. Lightning strikes once, twice, each time illuminating the angry sky.
