One Breath
A Dark Sorcery Novella: Book 4
Cheyenne McCray
Copyright © 2018 by Cheyenne McCray
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Beginnings
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Also by Cheyenne McCray
About Cheyenne
Kayce Lassiter,
* * *
My martini glass clinks yours!
* * *
Love,
Cheyenne
Beginnings
One Breath was previously published as Breath of Magic in the “No Rest for the Witches” anthology. It has never been available in a separate volume until now.
I hope you enjoy this novella while you spend a little more time in my world of witches, warriors, warlocks, and the Fae.
Cheyenne
1
If only she could fly like Conlan, she could get herself out of this mess.
Sydney Aline gritted her teeth and clutched the ledge over her head as tightly as she could. The toes of her jogging shoes barely reached a much narrower ledge on the outside wall of the abandoned hotel.
Her and her damned divining.
She sure hadn’t seen this coming. What good was a D’Anu witch who couldn’t divine her own future? Especially when it involved dangling from a friggin’ ledge.
The adrenaline pumping through her body helped keep her moving and glued to the side of the hotel. Sydney took a deep breath and started to inch her way toward one of the hotel’s second-floor windows.
Now that she was up close and personal with the building’s wall, she could smell the age of the bricks and the pollution coating them.
Once she reached the window, if she held on to the ledge with one hand, she could use her other to release her magic and open the window. End of problem.
Please let it be that easy.
She’d scraped her fingers raw catching herself when she’d slipped from the third-story ledge that was now above her head instead of under her feet. She’d been creeping along, doing just fine, until a part of the footpath crumbled.
She’d slipped and barely grabbed an intact part of the ledge. She could have fallen three stories instead of one. Even though she was a witch, she wasn’t likely to bounce and recover from that kind of fall.
Now she just had to get to that window.
And Conlan. Where was that Tuatha D’Danann warrior, anyway? The one who could sprout a pair of wings whenever he wanted to. The one who, sure as the goddess, could help her out, right about now.
That gorgeous hunk of a man who makes me hot with just one look.
Sydney groaned and moved another inch closer toward the window. Her arms ached and trembled. The only reason she should be thinking about Conlan at this moment was to save her butt. Dear Anu, how she hated being in a position where she needed his help.
Okay, skip that thought. Her pride would remain intact if he would return from scouting for demons, swoop down, and get her out of this mess.
When she had climbed up the corner of the building, she’d been so sure she could just ease herself toward the window because that ledge was fairly wide. She wasn’t afraid of heights. Well, maybe right now she was.
She hadn’t been crazy about the idea of him flying her up there, so they had planned to meet at the third-floor window. No biggie. She’d just started without him.
Another inch.
She bit her lower lip, putting all her focus into making it to the second-floor window instead.
When she’d divined that they would possibly find a dark warlock here—a bastard named Darkwolf who happened to be in possession of an evil god’s stone eye—she’d certainly not seen herself outside in the foggy, dreary, San Francisco afternoon, clinging to the side of a hotel.
Too bad her Doberman familiar, Chaos, wasn’t here to alert Conlan to her situation. She could use Chaos’s magic to bolster her own. But his barking might draw Darkwolf’s attention—if she had divined correctly and he really was here.
Her skin felt sticky against her body armor, which was covered by her T-shirt. Her jeans stuck to her legs, and her arms were coated with the fine mist from a heavy fog.
At least she’d spelled her glasses to resist fog so that she could see on these kinds of days, which were frequent in San Francisco.
The body armor had been supplied by Jake Macgregor, captain of the San Francisco Paranormal Special Forces. Right now it was weighing her down, making it harder for her to move.
Slowly she worked her way toward the window. She did her best to ignore the pain in her arms and legs from clinging so tightly to the ledge, and from the tenseness in her body.
The wind whipped up, causing her hair to fly into her face and get caught in her glasses. Now she could see only out of one eye.
Sydney wanted to scream. But she couldn’t let Darkwolf know she’d figured out his hiding place if he was here. Then he’d likely change locations and none of her sister D’Anu witches would be able to find him.
Not to mention the D’Danann warriors. The warriors were winged Fae fighters from Otherworld who had been helping the witches repel an invasion of demons.
Four of the warriors and witches had paired up—a witch with a warrior—and had been tracking Darkwolf for the past few days, each searching one quadrant of the city.
Now, Sydney was sure she had finally figured out where Darkwolf was and she was going to fall to her death before she caught the S.O.B. If Darkwolf was here, she’d contact the other witches and D’Danann before making contact with the warlock.
Darkwolf had started the whole invasion. The warlock bastard had summoned powers and beings too great for him to control, even with his with dark sorcery.
For starters, he’d called on Fomorii demons who worshiped the ancient, wicked god Balor, and his murdering bitch of a wife. Now, both Balor and Ceithlenn were here with the Fomorii, and things had gone from horrible to impossibly worse.
Sydney ground her teeth. They’d been dealing with the totally evil goddess for weeks now.
Because Darkwolf had brought her to San Francisco, the she-goddess from hell had been able to slaughter thousands of humans and call her husband up from the depths of Underworld.
Balor was here, now.
Thank Anu, Balor hadn’t found his eye yet. And he wouldn’t, if Sydney could keep herself alive and snag Darkwolf before he forked it over.
By the Goddess, when I get my hands around that warlock’s throat...
Taking a deep breath, she moved another inch closer to her destination. Now maybe two feet away.
Her hair was driving her crazy the way it was stuck in her glasses.
I don’t know enough swear words to express how I feel right now.
On the other side of the window she was headed toward was a balcony with sliding glass doors. Why couldn’t she be closer to that?
Whose bright idea was it anyway, to walk along a ledge to get in through the window on the third floor?
Mine, stupid.
/> Before Conlan left to scout out the rest of the hotel by flying around it, she’d told him she planned to climb up to the third floor and walk along that wide ledge to the first window.
Conlan had raised an eyebrow and given her a look that said, "Yeah, right,” only probably in Gaelic, and likely not that charitably. More like, “You should know better than this, but you ’re a big girl. If you want to break your neck, who am I to stop you?”
His teasing winks and sexy looks had made Sydney wonder what it would be like to kiss him—to more than kiss him.
Only she didn’t get involved with the playboy type. She didn’t do casual sexual relationships, and Conlan had one-night-stand written all over him.
Sydney grunted as she worked her way along the ledge. She would get herself out of this.
She neared the window. Her arms were nearly numb and her fingers felt like she was shredding them with every movement she made along the ledge.
One would think that as a descendent of the Ancient Druids and as a witch who practiced gray magic, she’d be able to use her powers to get along this ledge a little faster. But like other D’Anu witches, she had to have her hands free to use her powers.
Friggin’ inconvenient.
Almost there.
When Sydney finally reached the window, she almost cried with relief. She was going to do this. She was going to make it.
Carefully, she pried the fingers of her left hand from the ledge. All her weight was now on her right hand and the toes of her jogging shoes.
Trying not to make any sudden moves, she lowered her left hand and blue sparkles of magic flowed from her palm to the window. She heard the click of the window unlocking. She tensed her jaw and moved her hand from the left to the right, opening the window with her magic. It made a screech like nails across a chalkboard that grated along her spine and sounded loud in the foggy afternoon.
What if Darkwolf heard it?
Sydney reached her left hand up to grasp the ledge again so she could climb in through the window.
The fingers of her right hand slipped.
Terror ripped through her as she scrambled to grab something. She came up with air.
She fell.
A scream tore from her throat.
At the same time she let loose a magic rope from her palm. It shot straight at the balcony on the other side of the window.
The rope wrapped around the top railing. She jerked to a hard stop. For a moment all she could do was hang onto the rope as it swayed beneath the balcony.
Sydney’s heart beat as if it would explode while she clung to the blue magical rope with one hand. With a burst of effort, she swung her other hand up and grabbed the rope.
She almost sobbed with relief—and from the pain in her arms and hands as her own weight almost jerked her shoulders out of their sockets.
Idiot, idiot, idiot!
Thank the Ancestors she’d kept fit at the gym. She’d never been good at climbing the rope in gym class, but she had the willpower to do it now.
It seemed like it took forever, but fraction by fraction Sydney worked her way up the rope and to the balcony railing. Blood pounded in her ears and sweat covered her body.
When she grasped the railing, she pulled herself up so that her toes were on the edge of the balcony. She swung her left foot over the railing and tumbled into an ungraceful heap as her other leg followed.
For a long moment Sydney lay on her back, staring up at the gray, foggy sky and the third-story ledge where she’d been minutes—or was it hours—ago.
She was so sore she didn’t think she’d be able to walk for a week. She barely had the strength to yank her hair out of her glasses so that she could see out of both eyes again.
After she’d caught her breath, she pushed herself to her feet. She wobbled a bit and grasped the railing to steady herself.
Sydney glanced down.
Conlan stood on the ground two stories below, a glint in his eyes and his mouth quirked into a smile.
If you want to break your neck…
He’d been watching her this entire time.
She would kill him the moment she had the opportunity. She wished she could do it right now.
There was no doubt in her mind he’d just watched what was now the most embarrassing moment of her life. He could have helped her at any time. She was sure he’d been waiting for her to fall before he’d swoop up and catch her. But she’d saved her own butt.
Conlan was a huge D’Danann warrior with a broad chest, a very fit, muscled body, long hair that dusted his shoulders, grass-green eyes, and a dimple in his chin. He wore black leather, from his sleeveless tunic to the pants tucked into his boots. He’d just arrived from Otherworld for the first time, so they hadn’t had a chance to outfit him in human clothing.
Ooh, he’d look good in a pair of jeans and a tight-fitting T-shirt. Almost as yummy as he does in all that leather.
Conlan’s features usually showed a hint of a smile and a teasing glint in his eyes. She’d known him for only a few days, but the man had already gotten under her skin.
It irked her to no end because he wasn’t her type. So why did she fantasize so much about him?
With me. In bed.
After giving Mr. Wings-and-smile a glare that should have melted steel, Sydney whirled around—
And found herself face-to-face with Darkwolf and the evil god’s eye.
2
Before Sydney had a chance to throw up a spellshield, Darkwolf snaked his magic ropes around her, pinning her arms to her sides.
The warlock jerked her through the open sliding glass door and into the shadows where he’d been hiding in the hotel room.
She screamed in surprise and fear as she stumbled and pitched forward, almost hitting her head on a bureau.
With no way to catch herself, she twisted her body in mid-fall so that she wouldn’t hit the bureau or end up on her face, not to mention crunch her glasses. She landed on the carpeted floor on her side, hard, knocking the breath from her.
When she rolled onto her back, she looked up to see Darkwolf standing beside her but not looking at her. Blood rushed in her ears. Darkwolf had her. What would he do now?
The stone eye hanging from a chain around his neck wasn’t blazing crimson like she’d seen it before. No. it was quiet and covered in a thick, purple, magic shield. Why was it shrouded like that?
Incredibly handsome, Darkwolf had black hair that curled at his collar, sensual dark eyes, and high cheekbones.
He wore a royal blue T-shirt tucked into snug, faded Levi’s and a pair of pricey jogging shoes.
None of the gray-magic D’Anu witches let the warlock’s good looks fool them. He was the biggest traitor and criminal the witches had ever known. And right now he held the key to a god’s power.
A key they desperately needed to retrieve and keep safe.
The eye.
Sydney’s blood pounded through her veins like mad. She followed Darkwolf’s gaze and saw Conlan standing on the balcony.
The warrior had already drawn his sword and had folded his wings so that they vanished beneath his black tunic. Gone was the playful expression of just moments ago.
In its place was the fierce expression of a Tuatha D’Danann warrior.
* * *
Conlan’s blood boiled. He knew by the stone eye hanging from a chain around the man’s neck that this must be Darkwolf, the Balorite warlock the witches and D’Danann had been searching for.
Darkwolf had the witch helpless. The bastard was touching her with his filthy dark sorcery.
Conlan held back a snarl. He tightened his jaw and raised his sword high, his biceps taut and ready for battle. His thigh muscles bunched beneath his black leather pants as he stood on the balls of his feet.
He would behead the warlock and be done with it, and Sydney would be free. Conlan was a good ten feet from the pair. He started to charge Darkwolf.
Darkwolf made a small movement with his hand, and a glittering
purple wall appeared between them.
Conlan slammed into the shield. The force of hitting something with such magical power propelled him backward to the railing, but he regained his footing with the grace of the Fae. Ramming his body against the surface of the shield hadn’t hurt him, only infuriated him.
Veins coursing with fire, Conlan commanded, “Release the witch.”
Conlan saw Sydney struggle against her bonds, but apparently the warlock’s sorcery was too powerful.
His gut churned. He had known Sydney for only a few days, but those days had been enough to give him a taste of her power and brilliance. He hated seeing her rendered helpless by this—this piece of filth.
Darkwolf’s magic ropes wrapped her from her shoulders all the way to her hands. Conlan had learned that D’Anu witches had to have use of their hands to practice most of their magic. If only he could free her hands, she would fight like a tigress.
“It’s not likely I’ll be letting either of you go.” Darkwolf gave an almost friendly grin that caused Conlan to narrow his eyes. “Since you’ve found us, Elizabeth and I need to find a new place to live, without your help.”
“Not Elizabeth,” Sydney said with a snarl. “You mean that sick demon, Junga, who stole Elizabeth’s body.”
The warlock’s grin faded to a scowl as he looked down at Sydney. “As I was saying, Elizabeth and I will search for a new place to stay. For now, I’ll have to make sure you two are out of my way.”
Damnation. He plans to kill her!
Conlan growled and swung his sword at the magic barrier. He hacked at it again and again, hoping to find some kind of weakness. Each time his sword bounced against the magic shield, the power of his own strokes reverberated through him.
One Breath Page 1
