Darkwolf simply crossed his arms over his chest and watched.
Godsdamn. Conlan’s rage doubled. I must save the witch!
When he could find no weaknesses in the shield, Conlan took a step back.
Sydney’s heart had chilled when Darkwolf said he needed to make sure they were out of the way, and she swallowed hard.
With Darkwolf’s magic ropes binding her, from shoulders to the tips of her fingers, she wasn’t exactly in the best position to defend herself. And Conlan would never be able to get through Darkwolf’s shield.
But her legs were free.
When Darkwolf turned to face Conlan, Sydney rolled onto her side. She pulled her left knee to her chest. With everything she had, she slammed her foot into the warlock’s ankle.
Darkwolf dropped. He grunted, a look of surprise on his features as his feet flew out from beneath him and he landed on his ass.
His focus on the barrier wavered and the shield fell.
No doubt his hold on her didn’t weaken because she was closer to him. She lashed out again with a hard kick to his thigh.
Admiration for Sydney surged through Conlan as he charged the warlock, crossing the ten feet between them.
Darkwolf flung a fireball at Conlan.
Conlan blocked the spell with his sword, and the fireball ricocheted across the room. The headboard burst into flame before the magical fire died. The smell of burned wood was strong, and smoke floated from the hole.
Darkwolf slung another fireball at Conlan. Again, he deflected the magic with his blade. The fireball hit a bedside lamp and shattered it, the shards scattering onto the bed.
Conlan was aware of Sydney trying to get into position to kick Darkwolf again, but the warlock had moved out of her range.
When Conlan reached Darkwolf, he cut his sword through the air. The warlock crouched, dodging the blow.
He raised the palms of both hands, and a purple bubble shielded him and Sydney. Conlan’s sword bounced against the warlock’s shield, and he cursed in the old language of his people as he regained his footing.
After dodging another kick from Sydney, the warlock shook his head, sighed, and pointed his finger at her. More of his purple ropes of magic wrapped around her, binding her all the way to her ankles.
A combination of anger and fear raged through Sydney, powerful enough to make her tremble.
Conlan swore again in Gaelic, and it sounded like he was making some dire threat.
Sydney growled in frustration. A fat lot of good she’d just done. But she had the satisfaction of having caused the warlock some pain.
Darkwolf sat casually on the carpet with one knee bent, his forearm draped over his knee, his injured leg stretched out. He observed Sydney. He didn’t look mad or annoyed, just...amused.
What the heck?
His gaze cut to Conlan, who appeared so furious his face was red, his green eyes blazed, and his muscles trembled with obvious desire to cut the warlock down.
Darkwolf shook his head again and eased to his feet, the bubble shield rising with him. “I should have known better than to allow a D’Anu witch any freedom.”
Sydney wondered if it would do any good to roll straight into his legs. Maybe that would knock his feet out again—
The warlock bent and grasped Sydney around the waist. As he rose, he threw her over his shoulder. She cried out in surprise as her head hit his strong back. Her stomach churned with fear as he turned and headed out the door of the hotel room.
3
Sydney’s heart thudded as fear wound its ice-cold tentacles around her shoulders. What would Darkwolf do with her if she didn’t escape?
She struggled against his hold, even though she was completely bound. She had to get away.
From her position over Darkwolf’s shoulder she saw Conlan through the shield that was moving with Darkwolf. The warrior looked beyond pissed.
With his sword clenched in one of his fists, Conlan followed as Darkwolf went down a stairwell, from the second floor to the street level. The door slammed behind them as they exited.
Where is he taking her?
Darkwolf went around a corner into a hallway, instead of into the abandoned hotel’s lobby.
They entered a kitchen that smelled of age and rotting food. All the chrome surfaces were dulled with dust.
Elizabeth—no, the demon Junga—was there. In the shell she had stolen, she was a beautiful woman with black hair and startling blue eyes. But inside she was a demon.
When she transformed into Junga, she was a hulking apelike creature with a tough blue hide, arms that dragged on the floor, and sharp needlelike teeth. She was queen of the Fomorii demons.
Right now, in her human form, she wore a blood-red tailored skirt and jacket, and had her arms folded across her chest. “What are you going to do with them?” Elizabeth-Junga asked. “You should have killed them already.”
Ice filled Sydney’s veins as Darkwolf withdrew a butcher’s knife from a block with his free hand.
“I’m merely going to keep them out of the way,” Darkwolf replied.
“Has the eye caused you to lose your mind?” Elizabeth-Junga clenched her fists at her sides.
Darkwolf ignored her and tossed a look over his shoulder at Conlan. “Don’t bother trying to hurt Elizabeth.” He held up the knife. “I know you don’t want the witch harmed.”
Such fury coiled inside Conlan that he nearly shook from it. Gods, how he wanted to rid them of Darkwolf and take the eye. They must retrieve the eye to keep it from Balor.
The evil god would come for it. He would find Darkwolf, and then all as they knew it would end.
In one of the great battles with the Fomorii, Conlan had witnessed the complete destruction of many peoples when Balor looked at them with one sweep of his eye before the sun god Lugh shot out the eye.
Darkwolf continued walking until he came to a big chrome door. It had a bar across it, the only door lock Conlan could see.
The warlock raised his hand holding the knife. Power flowed from his palm and he moved his hand from left to right. The scrape of metal against metal met Conlan’s ears before Darkwolf used his sorcery to open the metal door.
Conlan thought about going after the demon-woman who stood across the room, but his concern for the witch’s safety was too great.
The warlock’s purple shield continued to blaze around him and Sydney, even brighter than it had before. He entered a room that appeared to be a pantry of sorts.
Conlan waited at the door, his sword in his hand, fury coursing through him. He had to get the witch and himself out of this situation. But how could he take out the warlock who had surrounded himself and Sydney with a shield of magic?
Darkwolf pulled Sydney from his shoulder and plopped her down next to a wall. She struck her head against the hard surface and groaned, making Conlan grind his teeth in anger.
“What are you waiting for, D’Danann?” Darkwolf asked as he straightened and looked at Conlan. The warlock raised the butcher knife. “I could kill her by choking her with my magic, but this would be swifter. Put away your sword and sit beside the witch.”
Adrenaline surged through Conlan. If he just had a window of opportunity, he could ensure Darkwolf would never walk this world again. His concern for Sydney rose, driving any other possibility from his mind.
Conlan had no choice but to obey the warlock and go to her. He expected the warlock to demand that he relinquish his sword, but strangely the warlock did not.
Sydney’s heart raced and she sucked in her breath at the sight of the gleaming blade of the knife Darkwolf held.
Crap, crap, crap!
Getting the eye. That’s what they needed more than anything.
“Don’t listen to him, Conlan.” She gritted her teeth before adding, “The eye is more important than me.”
Conlan ignored her and glared at Darkwolf. “This is not over, warlock,” he said in his thick Gaelic accent.
Darkwolf ran his free hand through his
dark hair and sighed. “I don’t have any doubt we’re facing a whole lot of shit. I just need time to keep myself and Elizabeth safe long enough to prepare.”
“So you’re leaving us here to die?” Sydney couldn’t keep the tremble from her voice.
Surprisingly, the warlock shook his head. “Your sister witches will find you. I’ll make sure they do.”
Sydney blinked.
What in the name of Anu?
Why would this evil bastard want them to be found?
She looked at the shrouded eye that rested against his chest. Had he turned against the one-eyed god? Was he keeping Balor’s eye for himself for some reason? Perhaps to perform more evil acts?
“I don’t want to kill her.” Darkwolf held the knife beneath Sydney’s chin. “But I’ll do what I have to. Put away the sword and sit, D’Danann.”
Conlan looked from the warlock to Sydney and back. With narrowed eyes, he sheathed his sword and walked toward her. Darkwolf stepped away, keeping his shield up and leaving the magical ropes around Sydney.
When Conlan sat beside her, Darkwolf strode to the door, obviously not concerned with anyone attacking while he still had his shield protecting him. It no longer shrouded Sydney, but that didn’t matter anymore. Darkwolf held all the cards.
He cast a glance over his shoulder at Sydney. “As soon as I’m gone, the bindings will disappear and you’ll be released. Don’t bother using your magic against the door. I’ll leave it spelled long enough.”
Long enough for what? Our deaths?
Then he smiled. “Thanks for screaming. That and my divination told me exactly where you were.”
With that, he slipped out the door and slammed it behind him. The sound of the bar sliding into place was muffled, but there was no doubt about it. They were locked in.
Conlan turned to look at her, and the ropes vanished as he watched. No longer bound, Sydney sucked in a deep breath and wriggled her legs and arms.
She waited for Conlan to yell at her, to tell her this was all her fault—which it was—but he merely shook his head and stood with the grace and ease of his people.
A gamut of emotions rolled through Conlan—anger at the warlock, frustration at the situation, and concern for Sydney. How in the gods’ names could he get them out of this pantry?
He strode toward the door and began searching for a way to open it.
Fear for Sydney had slammed into him when he had returned and saw her clinging to the outside wall. Apparently, she had fallen from the ledge she had been walking on.
Certainly, he had not expected her to make her way along the ledge alone while she waited for him to return. He had left her at the corner of the hotel while he searched for signs of the Fomorii. Unfortunately, he had not caught their scent.
When he had returned, Sydney had reached the first window and was opening it. He had prepared to catch her when she fell, but she had done a fine job of saving herself.
She was a true warrior.
One of the many things he admired about her.
In the few days he had known Sydney, he had learned it was her way to insist upon her independence.
It was his way to not interfere.
But he would be there when she needed him. He admired her desire to accomplish tasks on her own.
Only, she could have fallen to her death if she had not caught herself. Twice. Perhaps it was best to not leave her alone with her apparent tendency to walk into danger.
With his fingers, Conlan traced the outline of the door, searching for weakness. Nothing.
Damnation. They had to get out of here and retrieve the eye. Conlan used the tip of his sword, but there wasn’t space enough for even it to slide through.
He tossed a look over his shoulder to see Sydney’s gaze traveling around the room, as if looking for some way of escape as well.
She was beautiful. Gentle curves, long honeyed hair, and unusual lavender eyes, he had wanted her from the moment he’d met her. Something about the witch caused a stirring not only in his loins but in his gut every time he looked at her.
He clenched his fist around his sword. What was he thinking at a time like this?
Conlan returned his attention to the door and shoved his sword back into its sheath. Somehow they would get out of here.
Sydney’s body ached from her head to her toes. With a groan, Sydney pushed herself to her feet and swayed.
“Any way out?” Sydney asked, then immediately felt stupid for asking the question.
But Conlan didn’t make her feel like an idiot. Instead, he said, “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He gripped his sword hilt with one hand as he studied the door.
She watched as he held his ear to the metal and knocked. “Solid,” he grumbled.
“Let me try.” She pushed past him and rubbed her sore palms on her jeans before raising them to face the door. “Even though Darkwolf said he spelled the lock, maybe my magic is strong enough to break through it.”
Too bad Chaos wasn’t here. Her Doberman familiar could have helped Conlan before they were trapped, maybe by taking on the demon-woman. Right now, she could use Chaos’s magic to aid hers. It would have been satisfying to see him take a chunk out of the warlock’s ass, too.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting her magic build within her until it grew so strong she almost shook.
When she opened her eyes, she let loose with her blue magic. The power of it radiated from her palms. She pictured the sliding lock and moved her hands from her right to left, in the direction the bar could be opened from the outside.
Not a sound. She’d heard Darkwolf bar the door, certainly she would hear it unlock.
There was no handle on the inside of the pantry, so she used her magic to pull at the door, trying to draw it open.
Nothing. It made no movement whatsoever.
She tried again and again with her magic, attempting to unlock the door and open it. When a fine sheen of sweat coated her skin and her breathing had quickened, she finally gave up and looked at Conlan.
“I’m sorry.” She adjusted her glasses and stepped away from the door. “It’s not working.”
Conlan said nothing but with his hand motioned her out of his way. He took several steps back. With a running start he rammed his shoulder into the door.
Sydney winced.
When he backed away there was nothing but a small indentation.
Repeatedly he slammed himself into the door, with the same results.
In the short time she’d known him, Sydney hadn’t been able to get enough of looking at the big warrior. All those muscles, hair that reached his shoulders, and eyes the color of spring grass. The way he looked at her sometimes sent butterflies straight to her belly.
She shook her head. Trapped and turned on. What a combination.
While Conlan did his macho thing, Sydney searched the enormous pantry. No hidden doors, just lots of canned food. The hotel hadn’t been closed too long and obviously hadn’t been cleaned out yet. Huge cans of soup, tomato juice, salsa, mustard, mayo, and ketchup lined one wall, along with lots of other things.
There were bags of flour and sugar and, to her delight, packages of tortilla chips that were still well within their freshness date. Chips and salsa sounded good about now.
Despite the situation, she was hungry and her stomach rumbled to prove it. Not to mention that with the kind of appetite D’Danann warriors had, it was a good thing they were stuck someplace with food.
She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. Darkwolf still had the eye. Demons crawled through the sewers of San Francisco. Not one but two evil gods were on the loose.
None of the races in Otherworld had agreed to help but the D’Danann—who only allowed a handful of warriors to aid them, including Conlan. And she and Conlan were locked away, possibly to die despite what Darkwolf had said—and she was thinking about food.
Sydney sighed as she looked up at another shelf.
“Chocolate.” She couldn’t help feeling a little
excitement at spotting giant bars of her favorite, San Francisco’s Ghirardelli chocolate. When things got rough, a good dose of chocolate was in order.
Conlan looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
Sydney had to stand on a small step stool to reach it, but was able to snag one of the enormous bars. When she stepped back onto the floor, she unwrapped a portion and handed a piece to Conlan. He gave her a quick nod of thanks before eating the big chunk in one bite, then ramming his shoulder into the door again.
While Conlan played he-man, Sydney pacified herself by consuming more chocolate than she normally ate in a week. After Conlan had spent at least an hour trying to get them out of the big pantry, he backed up and stared at the door.
“I’ll try another tactic.” Sydney wiped her sticky fingers on her black jeans, and he stepped aside so that she was in front of the door.
She studied it, trying to think of something she could do. A spellfire ball would only hit it and ricochet around the pantry—and they definitely didn’t need that. Magic ropes wouldn’t work because there was nothing for the ropes to latch onto.
No, she’d have to try to cast a spell. She should have thought of that earlier.
Blue magic sparked at Sydney’s fingertips. She closed her eyes and imagined she was the wind. A tiny zephyr that grew into a strong breeze. She saw stars spinning in her mind as she envisioned a strong wind that quickly morphed into the force of a hurricane.
Her body shook from the strength of her magic, and she felt power radiating through her, power of those who could assist her in a time like this.
She chanted.
“I call upon the great goddess Anu,
The Elements and the Ancestors, too.
Please aid us as we face this task,
To free us from this prison is what we ask.
We plead that you will help open this door
So we shall be trapped here no more.”
In her mind she saw lightning, heard thunder, and felt the wind around her body. It caressed her, rather than battering her, despite its powerful force.
With her mind, Sydney tried to open the door and rip it off its hinges using her mental hurricane.
One Breath Page 2
