“Oh, sí. Of course, yes,” she said with mock agreement. “And yet when the Black Oyster Coven was under siege from a pack of Razak demons, you went to their aid. Lucinda said you held back the pack until she could raise the fades to drive them off.”
Bryn shrugged. “The Razaks must have been worn out. Lucinda’s sister had wounded them.”
Astrid smiled. “Of course. Still, a fourth-level wizard couldn’t have done what you did. Level five would have been more believable. Although, perhaps Barrett doesn’t know of the Razak battle.”
“He doesn’t need to know about it. It was one wizard coming to the aid of the coven in his region. In North America, we simply want to be left alone.”
“Yes, so lucky that you’re American. Because with Celtic blood, a black Irish bloodline, Barrett would need to worry very much about that.”
“I don’t know much about the Celtic bloodlines,” Bryn said.
Lennox cleared his throat and exchanged a look with his son.
“Your pretty new chica looks like she might,” Astrid said, flicking a strand of my hair. I frowned and leaned away from her spindly fingers.
“Half-bred fae from the look of her,” Lennox said with a nod.
My mouth fell open. What in the Sam Houston? “Why do you say that?” I didn’t know thing one about my daddy, whoever he was, but I always assumed, given my lack of abilities, that he was a human and not magical at all. Except now I seemed to have come into some power, but maybe that was finally from Momma’s line.
“Your mother was a circle groupie. She certainly spent her share of time underhill. And your bone structure, you’ve had that unearthly beauty for several years now,” Lennox explained.
Saying I was too pretty to be all human was a backhanded compliment if I’d ever heard one, and I’d heard plenty. “What’s a circle groupie?” I demanded.
“Dad,” Bryn said with a small shake of his head.
Lennox smiled, and it wasn’t an “I’m happy for you” smile. It was a “How come you never guessed you’re a faery’s bastard daughter?” smirk.
Bryn assured me, “Your mother’s gorgeous. You look like her.”
“Only better. Too much better,” Lennox observed.
I clenched my teeth. “What’s a circle groupie?”
“Here’s quorum,” Lennox said, nodding to the doorway, where two young blond wizards had just walked in and were shaking the rain from their jackets.
One of the grandmotherly-looking witches stood, undisturbed by the parakeet standing at attention on the crown of her head. “Let’s begin.”
I wanted to pay attention, but I couldn’t focus. The fae live under hills, and you’re supposed to be able to find the entrance in a circular patch of discolored grass. When I was little, Momma told me tales of faery knights who’d rescued humans from all sorts of peril—throat-rippers, as she called vampires, clawed beasts, demons, and all kinds of vicious predators of mankind. Had she more than admired the fae? Had she chased the knights until they caught her? Was she still chasing them?
Boom! I jumped, startled by the earth-cracking noise. It was almost as loud as the thunder, but too close. A hush fell over the room as we listened, and then something slammed against the door. Bam!
Witches and wizards leapt up, drawing back from the room’s entry. The old witches pulled out wands. The Cajun and gypsy yanked out clawed skeleton hands. I backed up and noticed Bryn’s face. He looked worried.
“Blood?” Bryn said, pulling out a small pocketknife. He glanced between Lennox and Astrid.
Lennox shook his head and pulled out an amulet from under his shirt.
“Tamara doesn’t have an amulet,” Bryn said.
“More’s the pity for her. Her family should have trained her or stayed around to protect her instead of chasing mist.”
Bryn muttered a curse under his breath and turned to Astrid. “Astrid, we’ll be stronger together.”
Bam! Bam! The door groaned.
“Not if you try to protect the girl, too,” Astrid said, shaking her head.
Great. Whatever was outside was going to try to tear us to bits, and I was the only one on the battlefield without a weapon.
Chapter 9
“There’s a spell on the door,” Bryn said, taking me by the arm and leading me to the back of the room. “It’s not holding. Stand here,” he said, putting me in the corner. “Give me permission to cast a protection spell on you.”
Bam! I shook, my eyes darting to the doorway. “What’s out there?” I gasped.
“Brute force. Probably shifters or demons, and a lot of them.”
The door cracked under the force of the next blow. My heart pounded just as hard. Something horrible was trying to get in, and when it did, it was going to get us.
“Give me permission!” Bryn snapped.
“Yes, okay.”
Bryn opened his knife. “Stay inside the circle. Whatever happens, don’t step out.” Bryn scored his fingertip and blood welled. The red swirled before my eyes, and I felt dizzy.
“Don’t. Don’t faint.” He squeezed my arm with his unwounded hand. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” I said, my blood draining to my toes as he knelt and marked the floor with his blood. I braced my hands against the walls. And then Bryn stood and marked the walls with stars and a crescent moon as he muttered some enchantment.
The door splintered, and I heard the most horrible sound I’d ever heard in my life. A snarling howl. A pack of huge werewolves rushed the room, long muzzles with dagger-sharp teeth bared. A couple were only partially shifted, taking the form of wolf-men covered in fur with clawed hands and feet, faces deformed and feral.
I slammed my back against the wall for support and couldn’t breathe. Bryn shouted something in Latin and flung his arms out, advancing. The other witches and wizards threw spells, too.
The wolves tore through the magic, and one ate the parakeet in one gulp before they knocked down the old witches. Two pounced on the Cajun and tore his chest open. Blood splattered.
I shrieked and flung an arm across my eyes. I didn’t want to see them kill me. The growls were deafening, and so were the sounds of bodies falling and witches and wizards screaming.
Finally, things went quiet, except for the wolves’ growling. I opened my eyes and saw Bryn on his knees, arms outstretched. Lennox had a hand on his son’s right shoulder and the amulet in the other. Astrid too had a bloody hand on Bryn’s left shoulder and one hand out. Some of the beasts were dead or seriously wounded, but the ones who weren’t leapt forward, blood dripping from their jowls.
An invisible barrier repelled them, but when they bounced back they recovered immediately and slammed forward again, battering the magical energy and forcing the trio back.
A huge clawed pair swiped through the barrier and Lennox fell, cracking his head on the floor.
Astrid, breathless and limp, sank down onto her hands and knees, and a wolf towered over her. I screamed as it gnashed its teeth and tried to bite her spine. Bryn kept his arms up and the wolf ’s mouth slid just shy of Astrid.
I could see Bryn struggling to hold them back, his arms shaking slightly. They surrounded him, looming huge and vicious. Sweat dripped from Bryn’s hair and the veins on his neck popped.
Too many of them. They’ll wear him down.
He was splitting his strength to shield me. And we were both going to end up dead if someone didn’t help him. I needed something—a weapon. I looked at the table service. I hoped it wasn’t just butter knives wrapped up in the linen napkins.
I stepped forward, and the bubble popped. Bryn gasped as the power sling-shotted into him.
“No!” he yelled, glancing back as two wolves jumped, sliding over the shield and coming straight for me.
I saw the steak knives on the buffet. I ran toward it.
“Carpe facto!” Bryn shouted, and I felt myself flung forward. I closed my eyes and screamed, feeling my hands close on cool, wooden knife handles.
I crouched and spun, thrusting my arms out. I fell back when they slammed into me, and I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed my fists forward as hard as I could, burying my hands in fur up to the wrists. I felt the knives plunge into the wolf-men, then they were off me.
I realized I was screaming and stopped. The room was deathly quiet. I opened my eyes, tears already flowing. Bryn bent over, gasping. Blood flowed from a wound on his side.
I stood and swayed, but caught myself by leaning against the table with my elbow. The crimson scratches on my legs stung. I dropped the steak knives; raw meat hung along the serrations. I staggered, feeling sick. I grabbed the table and bent my head to sob. I didn’t want to look at the bodies, half eaten by the wolves, rank as a sewer.
“It’s okay,” Bryn said, sounding far away, though he couldn’t have been, because I felt his hand against my head. “Let’s go.”
“I can’t look.”
“Hold on to me, and I’ll lead you outside.”
I shuffled along, my shoes slipping in places, and I tried not to think about the carnage. Outside the rain had made the air smell nice, and I gulped in a couple of Texas-sized breaths before I opened my eyes.
The door of the limo hung open and Lennox was slumped on the seat with his head back.
“Is he okay?” I asked, taking a step forward.
An engine roaring to life made me look up, and mud splattered as Astrid swung her white sports car around and barreled it out of the field onto the road.
I slid into the seat next to Lennox, and Bryn sat across from us. Bryn shrugged his suit coat off, and I noticed that the left lower part of his shirt was shredded and saturated with blood.
“Oh no,” I gasped.
“It’s all right. How are your legs?”
“Okay,” I stammered, staring at the deep scratches on his side where I could see muscle and marble-size blood clots.
“It’s all right. I’d feel worse if I’d lost much blood.”
I turned to Lennox. “Are you awake?” I asked softly.
“Yes,” Lennox said in a voice that was sandpaper rough.
“Where are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. Just tired,” he said, but the upper right shoulder and chest of his suit were wet and dark.
“I’m sorry they broke through,” Bryn said, brows drawn together with worry.
“If you hadn’t been there, we’d all have been dead,” Lennox said matter-of-factly.
“Why did they do that? Why did they come and attack you?” I asked, shaking like a vine in a hurricane.
“They must have been hunting someone. Werewolves have preternatural tracking abilities. Not only can they follow a human’s scent, but also a particular witch or wizard’s magical essence. Our energy has a unique signature,” Bryn said. “It’s unfortunate that they caught up with whoever they were looking for during the meeting. They tried to kill the rest of us just because we were there. In that form, they’re basically animals.”
We rode for a while in silence with only the sound of the rain for company. I looked out the window and cried for the strangers who’d died. In all my life I’d never seen anything so violent, and it had shaken me up like not much else could have.
Finally, I pulled myself together and cleared my throat. “What kind of spell can we cast to heal ourselves? ’Cause I definitely don’t want to turn into a werewolf.” I coughed and shivered some more before adding, “I’m real firm on staying human. I don’t even like dogs, and I’m pretty sure Mercutio feels the same way.”
Lennox laughed softly. “She’s entertaining, this one.”
Bryn smiled. “We can’t be turned. The magic doesn’t cross over. The power that makes us witchfolk prevents us from becoming werewolves or vampires or other types of magical creatures. We’re a different species.”
“I’m not much of a witch though. Not really.”
“You certainly are,” Bryn said. “When you came out of that blood circle, the energy I used to create it should have dissipated, but you thrust it back into me, gave me back my strength.”
“I didn’t give it back. I didn’t cast any spells.”
He shrugged. “You willed it. It happened. That’s witchcraft.”
“Think so?”
He nodded.
“Am I strong enough to undo my spell on those people that I put to sleep?”
“Yes, with the right ingredients for the counterspell.”
“Then you’re going to tell me what to use. No more asking for permission and checking with the other witches and wizards. We tried to play by the rules and almost got eaten. So, you tell me what to do, and I’ll keep it a secret that you ever helped me. I can’t let those people die on a technicality.”
“And if he does you a favor, you’ll owe him one in return,” Lennox said.
I looked pointedly at Bryn.
“That does seem fair,” Bryn agreed.
I could see that I was going to be trapped very neatly into associating with him more than I wanted to, but I couldn’t help that. And no one in my family could actually tell what the list really warned against anyway. Maybe the name Lyons had been a mistake. Maybe it was supposed to be “lions” and meant I should never go on safari. Okay, it was a stretch, but, under the circumstances, you couldn’t blame me for trying.
Bryn had the car wait while I ran into the house and dried off and found the paper with the spell on it. I put on a pair of jeans, my fastest sneakers, and my lucky Longhorns T-shirt that I wore when they won the Rose Bowl.
Bryn glanced at the faded orange and quirked an eyebrow.
“What?” I demanded. “This is a black-tie spell-casting?”
“Your new outfit’s practical, but you can’t expect me to view it as an improvement over the dress.”
I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes and forced the frown from my face. “Sorry. I’ve still got the jitters.”
“No need to apologize.”
The driver slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt, causing us all to lurch forward.
Lennox grimaced and murmured, “He’s fired.”
“What happened?” Bryn asked.
“That leopard’s in the road,” the driver said.
“It’s not a leopard,” I said, opening the door. “Right?” I asked, looking pointedly at Bryn.
“No. Not a leopard.”
“Of course not,” I said, stepping out. “Mercutio,” I called.
Merc sprang toward the car, startling me. He did look a lot like a leopard in the low light, but with prettier, rounder eyes than the leopards you see on Animal Planet.
“Will you stop creeping around like a cat?” I grumbled, but reached down to run a hand over his smooth fur. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”
Merc hissed at the backseat of the car.
“Yeah, I know. You smell dog—lots of them. You wouldn’t believe what happened to us. I’m glad you didn’t come,” I said, climbing in. “Come on, Merc.”
He hopped gingerly into the car and looked around before lying down on my feet. Occasionally during the drive to Bryn’s house, Merc swiped the air in the car in a way that told me he could sense some things that I couldn’t. Just one more reason I needed my cat.
When we got to the house, Bryn left Merc and me in the foyer while he walked Lennox to some downstairs guest bedroom. I was in a hurry to get on with things, but Lennox did look like he might just go on and collapse at any minute, so I couldn’t blame Bryn for walking him.
When Bryn came back, I could tell by the way he moved that he was in pain. I folded my arms across my chest and gave him a stern look.
“Lennox needs to go to a hospital. And so do you.” It was the third time I’d said so since we’d left the meeting.
“He won’t go.”
“You could make him go. We could’ve driven to a hospital like I suggested on the drive back. Not like he could’ve stopped us.”
“You think they treat a lot of werewolf wounds?”
&nb
sp; “I think they treat a lot of dog bites, and that’s what he’s got, basically.”
“Sure, and a hurricane is just a breeze with a little extra wind,” he said as he walked to the big staircase that looked like an extra set from Titanic.
“Well, kind of,” I said mock cheerfully, just to be contrary. “And I still say they could help him.”
“Come on,” he said, waving to me.
I looked skeptically at the stairs. “Why?”
Would-Be Witch Page 9
