“Do you know the oracle?” the man asked in a rough approximation of French.
He looked exactly as he had in the visions. Short blond hair the color of wheat, eyes the color of bluebells, and a body Hame wanted to lick. He had a bag strapped to his back and wielded a long, thick walking stick—the sort handy in a fight. Considering the size of him, though, Hame doubted anyone would give him trouble.
Hame brushed his hair back over his scalp, his muscles flexing. The man watched every movement, his mouth opening a fraction to let his tongue peek out.
“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” Hame replied in English, wishing he could use the seeker’s mother tongue.
The man shook his head as if he’d been startled awake. “You…you knew I was coming?”
“Of course. I am the oracle, after all.” He hefted the axe from his right hand to his left as he strode over to shake the man’s hand. “My name is Hame. What’s yours?”
The man’s hand stopped short, then closed into a fist. “If you’re an oracle, shouldn’t you already know that?”
He laughed. “I don’t know everything, but I do know you’ve come from Wales. The village of Ewenni, to be exact. I know you’re the fourth of six sons.”
The man pulled back slightly. Hame enjoyed seeing him so unsettled. It made up for how he’d been made to feel for the past five years, ever since he’d had the first vision.
“And I know you’re a witch.” He straightened his hand again. “But I do not know your name.”
Numbly, the man slipped his hand into his grasp. “My name is Carn Gwyn.”
Hame held Carn’s grip longer than it was polite to, but the feel of the man’s skin against his calmed the bats and brought them to roost. Whatever misgivings he might have about Carn’s future, he wanted to get to know the Welsh witch better.
He must have stared too hard because Carn’s cheeks flushed and he looked away, pulling his hand free. He’d seen that uncertainty in many lovers over the centuries. He himself had no such concerns anymore. He wouldn’t force Carn into anything he didn’t want to do but, from the open looks Carn had lavished on his body, there wouldn’t be much he didn’t want to indulge in.
“Would you like to come inside?” Hame picked up some wood. “You must be tired after your journey.”
“Yes, thank you.” Carn helped with the load. “It’s a long way from Wales to Ambert.”
Hame chuckled to himself. Not as far as Scotland to Normandy.
On the walk back to the cottage, they chatted about Carn’s journey. He kept up a steady stream of questions to head off the one Carn no doubt wanted to ask about his future.
They dumped the wood beside the cottage and went inside. Hame slipped on a shirt, then gestured for Carn to sit while he poured two cups of ale. He got Carn some food, which he fell on. He filled himself as much watching Carn’s strong hands tear into bread and meat, or the muscles in his neck working while he swallowed. Having Carn here—finally—felt like the beginning of something momentous, and not just because of the vision.
Every time it had been the same. Carn walked down a dirt path. On one side the forest burgeoned with lush, vibrant trees, heaving with green leaves and fruit. Deer, rabbits, and birds traveled unafraid. A river ran through it of fresh, clear water, brimming with plump fish. On the other side of the path, the forest stood desolate. Burned and broken tree trunks speared the sky. Snakes, ravens, and wolves hunted, and the river was nothing but mud. And all the while, Carn walked between them.
Towards him.
And Aurelia.
Even in the vision Carn’s beauty had struck him, and he saw not a man to be feared, but one to be guided. Eventually the path would fork, and he’d be taken one way or the other.
Carn gave a hearty sigh and leaned back in the chair, looking like a man with a contented belly. His other urges wouldn’t be so easily sated.
“So, why do you seek the oracle?” Hame asked, finally ready to give Carn what he’d come for.
“A friend sent me to you. He said you’d be able to help me find Aurelia.”
Her name on another’s lips was like hearing the forbidden name of God. Such a rarity electrified him.
“Who’s your friend?”
“Blythe.”
He knew of the witch. He’d sent Aurelia to him when he’d found Blythe screaming on the ether for a little guidance to stop the madness. Aurelia had arrived in time to aid him, and he’d proved a useful ally. If Blythe had sent Carn, Hame was reasonably confident he could be trusted. Still, it wouldn’t do to come across as too eager to please.
“What makes you think I know this Aurelia?”
Carn laughed. “Blythe said you wouldn’t make this easy. Look, you’ve already told me you knew I was coming so there must be a reason for it. And I’d hazard a guess I’m going to get what I want, so it would be quicker if you’d just introduce us.”
Cocky bastard. Even so, he loved the Welshman’s confidence.
“You’re making a lot of assumptions. How do you know the vision wasn’t of something else entirely? Something more to my liking than yours.” His voice lowered, and his eyes widened just enough to hold Carn’s attention. Heat slithered through his veins when Carn bit his lower lip.
“I’m sure you and I like a lot of the same things.”
Now it was his turn to look away. He hadn’t tumbled with a witch before. In his opinion, being with someone who not only took the magical side of the world seriously, but could also manipulate it, created an unstable balance. He had always been the one who was in control with his lovers, his knowledge giving him greater insight and power. But with Carn?
He needed time to unravel his tangled feelings before he took that leap. When he looked back at Carn into a lusty stare, he didn’t think he’d need long.
“Aurelia will be here soon. She might help you, she might not.”
And considering what else he had to tell her, she was not going to be happy. Still, there was nothing that could be done about it. She had to know, and some things were better said in person.
“Will you talk to her for me? I’ve heard she listens to your advice.”
“If you prove useful to her, I won’t need to say anything.”
“But you will, won’t you?” Carn’s grin turned knowing, and the sight of it was like fingers strumming up and down his back. But as much as he wanted to be played with, he needed to maintain a clear head. The vision hadn’t changed in five years; it still contained a warning. However, he did think the longer he kept Carn around, the better chance he had of steering him down the right path.
All for the good of the world, of course.
II
Another witch lay dead at Aurelia’s feet. The grizzled old male had taken her a while to track down. She’d eventually unearthed him in St Petersburg, burrowed in among the aristocracy, and attempting to convert more to Xadrak’s cause.
Meanwhile, Xadrak himself was silent. This witch hadn’t had contact with the demon’s spirit for more than thirty years—she’d tortured the information out of him with a simple illusion, showing him his worst fears and letting them torment him. He’d squealed quickly enough, terrified of having his toes bitten off by turtles. She didn’t know if that fear was the result of Xadrak’s corruption of the man’s mind, or something he’d always had. Not that it mattered now.
His admission confirmed what Hame had been saying for some time.
Xadrak was back on Earth. But where?
The burned carcass was beyond recognition, blackened skin so dark he looked like an overcooked piece of meat. She had let her temper get away from her. He’d used an effective cutting spell, resulting in a deep gash on her left arm, a cut across her forehead, and a wound to her right thigh. She’d deflected the greatest brunt of them, so the injuries weren’t life-threatening, but they stung.
For that, she left the burned witch where he’d fallen for the dogs to ravage.
She vanished and reappeared outsid
e the house Hame had built in the woods, west of Ambert. Though she’d tried to convince him otherwise, Hame preferred to live by himself. He’d lived with her briefly after Elaine died, but he’d eventually returned to the forest. Not that the distance really mattered.
And she couldn’t begrudge him his work. Like Loic before him, Hame provided his services to those who sought him out. He did what he could, though most of the time he provided solace more than prophecy. Her tongue clucked when he told her that. She could imagine the kind of solace he gave some of them. Those green eyes. That red hair. The well-built body. He was as much an enticement as his divination. While most of the seekers were women, a string of lovers with broken hearts littered the centuries, hers the still beating one among them. She burned when she thought about them and how she’d never know him that way, but she cooled her head as she walked up the path to his sanctuary.
Her hard-won coolness evaporated in a jet of steam as she saw the blond man exit the house. Tall and strong, he lingered at the door once he’d closed it. He was beautiful, and the sort that Hame swooned over. And from the goofy look in the man’s eye, Hame had already speared this one.
I will not be jealous.
She repeated the mantra while approaching the house. The man looked up as she neared, the new-love sheen wiping from his eyes as he spied her injuries and darted his gaze from one bloody wound to another. He shuffled out of her way.
“Aurelia?” He spoke her name with a foreign tongue’s unease.
She charged her power, held it invisible in case she needed to kill him. “How do you know who I am?”
“Hame—I mean, the oracle—told me you were returning.”
She held her tongue. She’d deal with Hame later. When she didn’t respond, he continued on.
“My name is Carn, and he said you might be able to help me.”
“I don’t—”
“He also said I could probably help you, too.”
What was Hame playing at? Until she knew, she wasn’t about to give this pretty boy anything. She’d lived long enough to know that trusting someone’s word was the quickest way to get burned.
“And what could you possibly help me with?”
He shrugged. “I’m a witch, too. But I don’t have anywhere near your power. I was hoping you’d teach me.”
“There are already too many power-hungry in this world, and I won’t feed you.” She turned away from him, opened the door and entered, slamming it in his face. With a wave of her hand, she barred the door so not even a herd of rhinoceros could knock it down.
Hame sat on a pile of cushions on the floor. He preferred to entertain the seekers there, thinking it lent some mystique to the whole thing. Never mind he could have visions wherever he wanted. The rest of the cottage was as expected. A kitchen bench, a table and chairs, and hearth on one side; his meeting place at the other. A doorway led to two bedrooms, one unused, but the other fitted with his large bed. There weren’t many things in his home, but it was filled with warmth of heart. She loved coming here. Except when she had just been ambushed by one of Hame’s beaus.
“I know you’re not in a trance,” she snapped. “You’re smiling.”
“That’s because I’m looking at a very happy future.”
“Wouldn’t have anything to do with that blond thing drooling outside your door?”
“I hope you were nice to him.”
“I kicked him a few times, but he didn’t seem to mind.”
“Oh, Aurelia, you are wicked.”
She rolled her eyes, but the effect was lost as he kept his closed. The wound in her leg pulled as she knelt down and kissed his cheek. He inhaled deeply and his smile broadened.
“You smell like a roast. I take it our Russian friend won’t be troubling us anymore?”
“Left for the dogs.” She sat back, sucking her breath in sharply as she did so.
Hame’s eyes shot open. “You’re wounded.”
He bound to his feet and grabbed a bucket of water and a cloth. Some of the water sloshed out in his haste. She batted him away, told him not to worry, but he wouldn’t retreat. Instead he cleaned her wounds, and she melted beneath his touch.
“I’ll heal them in a minute,” she said, but he didn’t stop administering to her.
“You got complacent, didn’t you?”
“Who? Me?”
“Perhaps you should leave the scars, especially this big ugly one across your pretty head, as a reminder that you’re not invincible.”
“I need no reminder.” With a surge of power, the wounds closed as if they’d never been. Once the skin had knitted together, she sagged. Healing drained her more than anything else she did, but it was a necessary skill. Thierry’s back had been saved because of her, not that he’d known what she did. Hame threw the cloth into the bucket and positioned himself so she could lie against him.
“That wasn’t smart,” he said, with gentle admonishment.
“What else do you suggest?”
“Reiner?”
She scoffed, then rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he’d have no questions at all.”
Reiner—an accomplished healer if only he could accept his gift—was nephew to one of the few friends she had in this world. But it wasn’t his power that had initially brought him to her attention. His soul was that of her old friend from Carcassonne, Etienne—her brother’s deepest love.
Long ago Hame’s visions revealed Etienne, too, had a part to play in all of this, and ever since, she’d watched for his soul. When it showed up in Reiner, she’d befriended his aunt, the Baroness Liesel, to get close to him, but over the years the necessity had become pleasure as she had warmed to the aging aristocrat’s maternal nature.
“It’s probably just as well. Your brothers are on their way to Liesel’s.”
“I must stop them.” She rushed to stand, but Hame held her back.
“You can’t.”
“Don’t tell me that, please. I can’t let anything happen to her, or to Reiner.”
“Reiner and Thierry are drawn to each other; that is inevitable, that is written.”
“Then they will finally be together?”
He shrugged, but it was the kind he gave when he knew the answer wouldn’t please her.
“What evil will Olivier bring?”
“Whatever is necessary. Liesel will be fine, I can see that at least, but you must not divert them from their path. What happens next will lead to the discovery of the key.”
Her spine prickled. If there were any words to give her pause, then he’d just spoken them.
“Are you sure?”
They’d been searching for the key to the portal for centuries. Meanwhile Xadrak appeared and reappeared, switching from one plane to another. He had been reincarnated seven times since she’d killed Henri, and she’d had to slay him in four lives because his power had grown to corrupt the world.
And each time he’d died, he’d slipped back into the astral realm and committed more crimes there. Aurelia believed Elaine’s hand was in the whole thing, floating there beyond Aurelia’s begging for contact. At first she was hurt by it. Then she thought Elaine did it to punish her for causing her death. Then she stopped worrying.
Perhaps Sinara had come to the fore completely and obliterated Elaine’s memories and cares. By then, Aurelia was committed to the path, and she honored her mother’s memories by sticking to it, whether Sinara cared or not.
“Your brothers’ actions at the Baroness’s castle will lead to the discovery of the key. That is not in doubt.”
“But for that to happen, I must allow them to rampage through Liesel’s life?”
“How is that any different to letting them wreak havoc on the rest of the world?”
“My dear friend isn’t involved.”
He pursed his lips. “I know you have more compassion in you than that.”
“Then you’d be wrong.”
She stood and brushed down her dress, mending the rips as her hand smoothe
d over them.
“I’m going to her anyway.”
“You do what you think is best. After all, I’m just the oracle.” He lay back on the cushions, all smug nonchalance. The beauty of him at that moment struck her heart, but she huffed at him all the same.
“And what am I supposed to do about that thing outside? He said you told him I’d have need of him.”
He laughed. “Maybe not need, but he will be useful, that I can tell you.”
“You’re not a very good oracle at times. I hope you know that.”
“I see what I need to see. Seeing much more would spoil the fun.”
She held her fingers to her temple, in mockery of his ability. She closed her eyes and intoned in her spookiest voice: “I see much rumbling and tumbling, a white hare and red fox will twist and turn—” She opened her eyes and looked down at him, “— and fuck each other senseless.”
“Oh, Aurelia, you do have the best prophecies.”
Aurelia stayed a little while longer, trying to tease out more of Hame’s visions for the Baroness’s future, and snapping at him when he could give no more. Eventually, she left, looking forward to slipping into a scalding-hot bath.
But Carn stood against a nearby tree, straightening when he saw her exit.
“You shouldn’t have waited,” she said. “I cannot help you.”
“I know you can.”
“Know this: power corrupts.”
“You seem to have avoided that curse.”
“You have no idea what I’ve had to do in this long life.”
“Then show me. Because I’m not going away.”
The drive was there, the deep desire that had ruined so many witches in their quest for deeper knowledge and greater power. She liked to think she hadn’t been like that, but she couldn’t make the lie stick. She still wanted more, even after four centuries, and above all she wanted the power to obliterate Xadrak once and for all.
She sighed. She was going to regret this; she felt it deep in her bones. If she let Carn in now, he’d never go away. But Hame had told her the witch was necessary, like so many other things he’d insisted were necessary and turned out to be so, and she couldn’t spurn this boy just to spite him. The look of lust she’d seen on Carn’s face earlier had beamed on Hame’s too.
Burning Blood: Bonds of Blood: Book 2 Page 11
