by Ann Gimpel
“What about the battle crow?” Mauvreen asked.
“He’s hoping the Celts will step up to the plate,” Mary Elma muttered. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, though.” She cleared her throat. “Before you and Lachlan showed up a couple of days ago, freshly back from the fifteen hundreds, the Celts were trying to squirm out of any responsibility at all for the Morrigan.”
“Aye, and their position hasna changed,” Tarika pointed out. “They did the same just now in Kheladin’s cave.”
“What? They showed up after I left?” Mauvreen’s nostrils flared. Both dragons nodded. Mauvreen cocked her head to one side and furled her brows. “What exactly happens if we can’t corral any of them? Not the Morrigan. Not the red wyvern, nor the black, nor their respective mages.”
Mary Elma opened her mouth and then closed it with a snap.
She doesna know, Kheladin thought. Good she’s not willing to guess.
Mary Elma fixed her dark gaze on him. “If I were to guess, dragon—yes, I’ve been in your mind—I fear my worst conjecture would pale against reality.”
Kheladin’s estimation of Mary Elma edged upward. “None of us knows, not precisely. What seems likely, since the Morrigan feeds on chaos, is she will continue to push men into battle against one another until the Earth lays in ruin and there’s nothing left.”
“I suppose there’s no way to kill her,” Mauvreen ventured.
Tarika snorted. “She’s a god. They’re immortal.”
“Details.” Mauvreen waved a dismissive hand in the air.
“Even if we somehow incapacitate the black and red dragons and their mages, what’s to stop the Morrigan from recruiting other helpers?” Tarika asked.
“Nothing,” Mary Elma snapped. “Damn it. This isn’t hopeless, but it’s the hardest problem I’ve come up against. And I’ve dealt with some doozies.”
“We might be able to imprison all three and hold them behind magical shielding,” Kheladin suggested.
“Who’s going to provide the constant influx of magic to do that?” Mauvreen pulled a few blades of grass from the lawn and chewed on them.
“The Fire Mountain dragons,” Tarika said.
“What?” Kheladin looked at her aghast. “Ye’d pollute our home?”
“If it was the only place,” she said. “There’s magic aplenty, and we could confine them in the depths of the mountain where we keep dragons who have gone astray.”
“How the hell would you get them there?” Mary Elma asked.
Kheladin snorted. “One at a time.”
“I doona think so,” Tarika demurred. “If we were to do it that way, ’twould alert the others, and we would never catch them unaware enough to capture them.”
Mauvreen spit out the grass and drank from her mug. “There’s got to be a way to solve this,” she muttered.
Kheladin thought the same. “I agree. ’Twill take a combined effort from us all, though.”
“Not in a large battle,” Tarika cautioned. “It would feed the Morrigan’s battle lust and make her even stronger, and harder to defeat. As it is, she’s escalating her efforts because she’s frantic about Maggie and Lachlan finally finding one another.”
“The prophecy is quite clear that, together, they can weaken her chokehold on Earth.” Mary Elma snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. We’ll split up and target each of the three separately. That way, they won’t be able to bail one another out.”
“It just might work.” Kheladin rolled into a sit, haunches beneath him, and blew a flame-tinged gout of smoke upward. “Lachlan tapped into some verra old magic and was able to immobilize Rhukon.”
“Too bad he dinna stay that way,” Tarika grumbled.
“Aye, ’twas the Morrigan’s doing. But if we kept her away from the other two—”
“And any other magic wielders she might seduce,” Mary Elma added, “then we might have a fighting chance here. I’m certain when I convene the covens, I’ll get hundreds to aid us.”
“What about the Druids?” Mauvreen asked.
“Maybe, but they tend to be more pacifistic,” Mary Elma said.
“We willna solve this one afore Lachlan and Britta return,” Tarika said. “Tell me why the air has a poison smell, and the water tastes like metal.”
“Aye, and what are these weapons Maggie spoke of that could shoot us out of the sky?” Kheladin cut in.
Mauvreen and Mary Elma looked at one another. “Where to begin?” Mary Elma rolled her neck from side-to-side, making the small bones in it pop.
“We have a goodly chunk of time between now and evening when everyone else gets here.” Mauvreen leaned against Kheladin’s bulk. “Let’s start with the Industrial Revolution, the steamships in the seventeen hundreds, and the damage they did to whales’ ability to communicate over distances.”
“Fine by me.” Mary Elma repositioned herself to use Tarika as a backrest. “Do you mind, dragon?”
“Not at all, witch.” Smoke plumed from the dragon’s mouth. Kheladin sensed she was biting back laughter.
“The short version,” Mary Elma began, “is men have always been greedy. They put their own gain above the good of the Earth over and over again. After two hundred years of unbridled self-indulgence, the planet’s going to hell.”
“Might ye elucidate a few of the steps in between?” Tarika asked. “Greed isna unique to modern times.”
“Certainly.” Mauvreen said. “There was a gradual shift from doing everything by hand to developing machinery that would…”
— •●• —
The sun was low on the western horizon when talk amongst them died down. Tarika shifted her bulk, wove her neck around, and head-butted Mary Elma gently. “Thank you for frank and thoughtful replies to all my questions.”
Mary Elma got to her feet, her gaze nearly level with the dragon’s. “Does this mean you’ve finally run out of them?”
Mauvreen joined the other witch. “The proper response,” she murmured, “would be you’re welcome.”
“Sorry. Guess I need to eat something.”
“We all do,” Kheladin agreed.
“I smell sheep not far from here.” Tarika flicked her tongue over her scaled lips.
“Not a good idea,” Mauvreen said. “They probably belong to some farmer.”
“They always did,” Kheladin inserted, “but people used to revere us. They were proud when we picked their flocks to feed from.”
“I suppose you could try the Hebrides. They’re islands west of us in the North Atlantic.” Mauvreen’s forehead creased in thought. “Ranchers use the land for grazing but often live elsewhere.”
“Might we fly there?” Tarika rolled to her feet and stretched her wings to their full extension.
“No!” both witches said in unison.
“All right.” Kheladin breathed fire and realized his temper was growing short as well. “Come, Tarika. We’ll transport ourselves with magic.” He turned back to the witches. “May we bring our kills back here?”
“I don’t see why not,” Mauvreen replied. “The wards hide you. No reason they wouldn’t extend to a carcass or two.”
“By the time we’ve returned, mayhap my bonded one will be back,” Tarika said.
“You must miss her.” Mary Elma sounded warmer than she had the entire day, and once again, Kheladin revised his opinion of Maggie’s grandmother.
“Aye.” Tarika’s voice held a wistful note. “That I do. I am worried about her as well, yet I doona wish to disturb her time with the witch-god.”
“I haven’t been quite as considerate.” Mary Elma grinned. “I’ve been checking in on Maggie and Lachlan so regularly, they finally told me to piss up a rope—at least Maggie did. Lachlan wants to stay on my good side.”
“Will they be returning soon?” Mauvreen asked.
“Yes. Maggie said around six and to have something made for dinner.” Mary Elma clucked disapprovingly. “I’m not sure when my granddaughter got so bossy—”
Mau
vreen jabbed her in the ribs. “She comes by it honestly. Look who raised her.”
“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.” Mary Elma lifted her upper lip in an approximation of a snarl.
“You know you love me.” Mauvreen draped an arm around the other witch. “Your bark’s always been worse than your bite.”
The corners of Mary Elma’s mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “Just don’t tell anyone else, okay?”
“Doona fear.” Tarika smirked. “Your secret’s safe with us.”
“Probably as good a time as any for us to be off.” Kheladin moved to Tarika’s side. “We shall return presently. If luck is with us, ’twill be with meat to fill our bellies.”
“Do ye suppose we might scare up a cow?” Tarika asked hopefully. “There’s much more meat on them than on sheep or goats.”
Kheladin chuckled, blowing smoke. “Let’s find out. If cattle are plentiful, mayhap we can eat a bit there and bring yet more back with us.” Chanting softly, he summoned magic to transport them to one of the more remote Hebrides Islands.
Chapter Eleven
Britta lay on her side, balanced on an elbow in the welter of bedclothes on Jonathan’s bed. The scent of their lust lingered in the still air. She smoothed a stray dark hair off his cheek, taking care not to wake him, and glanced out the bed chamber window. The sun was moving lower in the sky. They’d have to leave soon, but she was loathe to see their few hours together come to an end. Jonathan Shea was a fascinating man, an ardent lover, and he’d just grazed the barest tip of his power, focusing on witchcraft rather than the more potent god-imbued strain that ran through him. He admitted to her that he’d stumbled onto the deeper magic from time to time but shied away from it because it scared the crap out of him. He’d tried to discuss it with a few of the other witches, but none had been able to shed light on it, which only made him feel worse. More like a misfit. By that time, his da was long gone and no help at all.
She’d asked after other types of magic wielders, but beyond witches and Druids, it appeared human magecraft had died out of modern times. He stirred under her touch, breath warm on her hand. His amber eyes flickered open, and he reached for her.
“I’d love to, mo croi, but ’tis getting late. We should leave soon.”
“You can still hug me.”
“Aye, that I can so long as it doesna lead to…other things.”
He grinned. “We’ve done those other things so much, I’m not sure I could get hard again, even if I wanted.”
She flipped back the bedclothes and glanced at his penis. “Liar.” She ran a finger over his engorged shaft. He captured her hand and pressed it against his cock. Britta settled into his arms, fitted her body the length of his, and kissed him. When he licked the seam between her lips, she drew away. “Ye’re a delectable man, and I could lose myself here forever loving you, but we must join the others.”
He laid a hand against her cheek, amber gaze tender. “You miss Tarika.”
“Aye. I do. You and she are my two loves.”
“I like the sound of that.” He burrowed his face into her neck and then teased the tip of her ear with his tongue. Shivers cascaded down her back. She pushed playfully at him; he rose to a sitting position. “You’re probably right about leaving. We’d agreed about regrouping this evening, and it must be close to that now. Would you like a quick rinse in the shower before we dress?” He sat on the edge of the bed.
“I still canna get over how hot water flows when ye turn a lever.”
He padded across the room toward the bathroom on the other side of the hall. “I’ll get the water going. It won’t take me but a few moments, and then the tub will be all yours.”
“Ye doona wish to bathe with me?” She shot a roguish grin after his retreating form, teasing him.
He turned slowly. Britta got to her feet. She hoped she’d never get used to the jolt of pleasure that filled her when she looked at his sleekly muscled form. “Last time we shared the tub, look what happened.”
She laughed and made shooing motions with both hands. “Aye, I recall well enough. Off with you.”
She was just toweling herself dry when fury, mingled with terror, slammed into her solar plexus. Tarika. Her dragon was under attack. Britta dropped the towel and sprinted for her strewn clothes, picking them up and donning them as fast as she could. “We have to leave now,” she gritted out, summoning magic. “Right now.”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.” He looked up from tying a shoe and hurtled to his feet in an instant. “What’s wrong?”
“Something has Tarika.”
“Where? When? Do they have Kheladin too?”
She shook her head until her red-blonde hair spilled into her eyes. “Just now. I have no idea where, nor do I know about Kheladin. I am not linked to him.”
“Put your shoes on. I’ll ready a spell to get us to Mauvreen’s.”
“Why there? We must follow what we can of Tarika’s path.”
“Tarika was at Mauvreen’s. The smartest thing to do would be to start there. The witches might know something. Maggie’s grandmother will have been in contact with her. We need Lachlan. We need to know if Kheladin is with him or Tarika—”
Britta gave herself a mental slap. She had to get hold of herself. She wasn’t thinking clearly. “Yes. Fine. Let’s just go. I canna do aught from here.” She shoved her feet into her shoes and bent to lace them.
When she straightened, Jonathan stood in front of her. He laid a hand on either shoulder. “We will find Tarika. I’m in this with you all the way. So’s Mauvreen and the other witches.”
“Are ye certain?” Britta’s heart twisted within her, but there was no choice in the matter. Tarika needed her, was a part of her. If it meant leaving Jonathan behind, she’d have to do so. “For long years, ’twas just her and me. I am used to fighting my own battles. ’Tisn’t necessary for you to put yourself in harm’s—”
He held up both hands and set his jaw in a determined line. “Very sure. You’re not alone anymore, Britta. You never will be again. I’m falling in love with you.” The air crackled with his magic. “We’re out of here.”
•●•
His aim was true, but then it should have been. Mauvreen’s home had been both refuge and haven throughout his life. He heard the cacophony of raised voices before the house came into view and the walls of her familiar living room rose around them.
“Granddaughter,” Mary Elma thundered. “You have to think this through. You can’t just race out of here with that man.”
Maggie spun to face her grandmother. Fire blazed from her blue eyes. “The hell I can’t. That man is my husband. He needs me. So does Kheladin—”
Britta twisted out of Jonathan’s embrace and stormed over to Lachlan. “Och aye, then the both of them are missing.” Jonathan hastily braided his hair to get it out of the way. It looked as if they’d be heading into some sort of fight, and he wanted it out of his eyes.
“At least our dragons are together,” Lachlan ground out. “’Tis cold comfort, yet I’ll grab whatever crumbs I can.”
“Does anyone know what happened?” Jonathan’s gaze speared Mauvreen’s and held it.
The witch shook her head. “They left here to hunt down something to eat in the Hebrides. Mary and I were just having a bite to eat ourselves when Lachlan and Maggie blew in here like a house afire.”
“Hebrides.” Britta narrowed her eyes. “Do ye suppose ’tis still the Selkies’ home?”
Mary Elma shrugged. “I believe so,” Mauvreen said.
“Then we shall begin there.” Britta exhaled sharply. “’Twas a time I knew a Selkie or two. They may have seen what happened.”
“Let’s go.” Lachlan drew Maggie against him. The air filled with the ozone scent of his magic.
“We’re all going,” Mary Elma announced.
“Hold a minute,” Maggie told Lachlan. She stalked to within a foot of her grandmother. “First, I’d love to have your help.
I’m sure Lachlan would too. Second, you’re used to calling the shots. It won’t work in this group. We each have an equal voice. If you’re willing to agree,” she quirked a brow, “then you’re welcome to join us.”
“And if I’m not?” Mary Elma’s voice held a silkily dangerous undertone.
“Then you and I stay here.” Mauvreen shot her old friend a pointed look.
“When did you turn against me?”
“I didn’t. But what Maggie said makes sense. You’ve never had to bow to superior magic since yours always trumped everyone else’s. That’s not the case here. Britta and Lachlan are much stronger than you or me.”
Mary Elma pursed her lips. “If the choice is cooling my heels here and being worried sick about my only blood kin, or figuring out how to fit in when I’m not the team leader, I think I can manage.” A sudden, grim smile bloomed on her face. “What are we waiting for? Trails grow cold easily.”
Lachlan eyed her. “Thank you. Dragon magic puts ours to shame. If something was powerful enough to spirit both dragons off this plane, we may well need far more than our combined magic to defeat it.”
“Now ye mention it,” Britta’s voice held a shrill edge, shy of hysteria yet not far from it, “after her initial call for aid, I havena sensed Tarika at all.”
“Nor I Kheladin.” Lachlan looked as if he wanted to kill something. “Which is why I think they are somewhere else in time.”
Well, there’s a cheery thought. Jonathan warded his mind. He didn’t want Britta to know how rattled he was by the turn of events. He’d hoped they’d have at least a few days to explore how to blend their magic before they had to deal with Rhukon, Connor, or the Morrigan. He hadn’t said anything, but who else could have made off with the dragons? Who else would even have wanted to?
“Where are we going in the Hebrides?” he asked Britta. “There are a lot of islands in that chain.”
An image blasted into his mind. Britta looked at Lachlan. “Did ye get it?”
“Aye.”
“You didn’t ask,” Mary Elma said, “but I got it too. Mauvreen?” The other witch nodded. “See you there.” The air shimmered, and the two witches were gone.
