“It moves?”
His mouth twitched, his patience surprising him. “It exists on another plane. The magic protecting it will allow you access, if it finds you worthy.”
Briana grimaced at his explanation and hugged her arms around herself. Did she realize she’d huddled closer? His body ran hot. That must be why. In the cold and dark, humans were drawn to light and warmth. But then, she kept stealing glances when she thought he wasn’t looking. He kept his eyes forward, allowing her to study his features at her leisure.
What did she think? Women usually found him very attractive, especially witches. He had that forbidden immortal appeal, which led them easily astray. Not that he’d been of the mind to take advantage for many years. Half a century, at least. Besides, this one already had a man, if he was smelling that Ward witch right.
If she weren’t already off-limits and a Councilor’s daughter, the extra nuisance of a rival should be enough to counter his interest. He preferred that his dalliances come to him, let him save the battle for when it really mattered. And yet…
She caught him looking and cleared her throat self-consciously. “What does it mean to be anointed?”
“It means I’m one of the Synod’s lapdogs.”
She pursed her lips and gave him a look like she thought he was toying with her. He couldn’t help noticing that her lips were rather luscious — soft, red. Ripe.
He looked at his feet. What was taking so long? Why hadn’t the spell taken hold yet? “I work on security detail. There are other jobs, but I prefer this one. So, keeping guard, sniffing fences, barking at intruders.”
She snorted softly, and it made him smile. It felt odd to be enjoying himself so much in her company. “A Rottweiler, maybe. But definitely not a lapdog.”
He chuckled, and then magic took hold of the key in her pocket with a trail of silver light only visible to him. He stopped, and his hand shot out in front of the witch to halt her steps. She really was a liability. He took a step back and forced her to do the same.
She pulled away from his touch abruptly, then shrugged her loose sweater around her.
“The key,” he said, holding out his palm.
She placed a key on a long metal chain into his hand, and he closed his fist around it. The shadows in his vision pulled back like velvet curtains, revealing a thicket of multi-colored light. The key in his grip hummed, and he channeled the power back into the line of silver energy, wrapping his own Synod-infused magic around it, opening the intricate lock of spellwork.
Briana followed his gaze questioningly, and cocked her head at the faint whistling as the vault fell into hearing range. The large wooden chest dropped out of the darkness above and shook the ground at their feet when it crashed onto the jagged stones.
Briana yelped and latched onto his arm like a cat on curtains.
“Sorry, I should have warned you,” Moncrieffe said, stifling a grin. He had to admit she was fairly entertaining. He hadn’t smiled this much in years. The wolf in him wanted to tease her, to romp and play.
She let go and shook herself. “That’s it?”
He nodded and held out the key to her. An old one, by the looks of it. “Only you can open it.”
She was trembling as she took a tentative step forward.
He met her halfway and dropped the key into her cupped palm. She seemed surprised by the weight of it, charged with so much magic, and almost dropped it.
Clumsy.
He put his hand below hers to catch it. Their bare skin brushed, and a current of awareness whispered through his fingertips. It snaked its way up his wrist, coiled around his forearm towards his chest. He stared at where they touched, his brow puckering.
How?
His fingers lingered over hers. She didn’t try to pull away, seeming just as mesmerized by the sensation. When his thumb curled over and caressed the back of her hand, she flinched. But at that moment, the feeling wrung itself around his heart, which roared with a gluttonous fire. Quicker than thought, his grip closed around her wrist. He dropped the torch, which guttered and went out as he forged closer in the dark.
The otherworldly shadows of the Arcanum blocked out her corporeal body, but as he examined her with his other senses, he saw what he’d been too blinded, too jaded to even look for. But he’d felt it, hadn’t he? The energy banding them together where they touched sang through him like the purest milk of full moonlight. It was the same energy he held locked away in his most secret heart.
“No.” Briana gasped and tried to yank away, grappling blindly. “Don’t!”
He held on tight and dragged her closer, until he could feel her panicked breath on his neck. “Ana?”
***
Bri stilled. All the air left her lungs in a rush. Her blood sang in her ears. The utter sightlessness was so dizzying she could feel the ground swaying underneath her. A hollow silence filled the pitch blackness. Even her heart hesitated to beat.
No. That’s not possible.
Moncrieffe loosened his hold, but didn’t let go. The torch re-lit when he lifted it above his head.
“Ana?” he said again, all gravel. He released her to tear away his glasses and revealed startling grey eyes, tinged copper by the yellow flames. Unmistakable. Unforgettable.
Impossible.
She shook, uncanny recognition pulsing through her nervous system. Her heart sprouted wings and fluttered out of her chest. It took her voice with it.
“I—it’s me. Lucas,” he said, eyes pleading.
She couldn’t move or speak. All she could do was breathe and blink. And stare.
Lucas…
His brows curled up at the center, and he pressed his plump lower lip between his teeth in an oddly familiar gesture of vulnerability. It was him, only bulkier. Between the change in his build, the sunglasses, and the sheer incomprehensibility of it, she hadn’t recognized him. He hadn’t aged, but he seemed worn. Changed by time. He wiped a single tear from the corner of his eye, then jolted. He reached for her again.
She took an automatic step back. Something she couldn’t quite identify with screamed for her to throw herself into his arms, but she didn’t know this man, or whatever he was. Obviously not a man. She recognized him, even though that made no rational sense. He was exactly the man in her regressions, but he was still a complete stranger, in a world where the impossible was happening every other minute. Where someone or something was out to kill her.
“Ana?”
She shook her head slowly.
“But—”
She cut him off. “I don’t know…who you’re talking about.”
He squinted. He didn’t believe her and was re-evaluating his approach. But how on earth did she know that? Know him?
Her brain felt clunky as it tried to sort out the rules of reality being bent, time folding back on itself. She couldn’t look away, but she managed to sound convincing when she said, “I would like to get my things and go. Please.”
His answer to that was a long, tense silence, and finally a curt nod. He stepped back to give her some room.
Haltingly aware of Moncrieffe’s gaze on her, Bri knelt beside the chest. She swallowed the lump in her throat, sank the key into the lock, and twisted. What was she looking for, again? A voice in the back of her mind was screaming that it was standing right behind her. What did her memories of Vivianne have to do with what was happening? She remembered the key, and then there it was. She remembered Lucas, now here he was. Maybe he had answers.
But she couldn’t bear to turn around, to look into his eyes and face the gut-wrenching tumult of emotions that lay down that path. It was simply too much. She had too many other pans on the fire. She was worried about the immediate future, not the past.
“I knew you had the same last name, but after searching so long, I dismiss such coincidences.” Lucas — no, Moncrieffe — spoke in a low, careful tone.
Bri ignored him and lifted the lid of her family’s chest. Moncrieffe leaned forward to give her more ligh
t. Inside were several leather-bound books, rolled parchment, and small cases; all perfectly preserved as if they’d only been set there yesterday.
Tears sprang into Bri’s eyes at the thought of her ancestors all sharing this. Ce-Ce, her mother. It connected them through the generations. It was in her keeping now. She was a part of something larger than her one small, pitiful life. It was overwhelming, but at the same time heartening. She may have failed as a Zyne so far, but she was here now. She had her power, and more importantly, she had the strength to control it.
Now you just have to survive.
She was hoping there was something in the chest that would help her find the killer, but she didn’t even know where to start. “Can I take any of it with me?”
Moncrieffe was silent until she summoned her gumption and met his disturbingly steady expression. “It’s yours, but it is extremely valuable. This is by far the safest place for it. The Synod’s retribution would be swift and merciless were it to fall into the wrong hands.”
She turned back to the chest, her eyes racing over the amassed knowledge of generations. The Synod’s retribution was definitely something she wanted to avoid, but she needed answers, and she needed help finding them. Or at least needed her wits about her, and right now they were completely unraveled. “Okay, thanks for the warning.” Bri snapped the lid closed and picked up one end. “I’d like to go back now.”
Moncrieffe studied her from behind his glasses. She made an effort to look everywhere but at his face, afraid she might get sucked into his mesmerizing grey eyes again. She considered walking off without him, but he had the torch.
“Forgive me, Briana,” he said, emphasis on — ana. “I didn’t mean to startle you earlier. I can explain, if you’ll give me the chance.”
She held her breath, caught somewhere between bewildered and frustrated. Her hands were almost numb from cold, and an acidic churning had started a cycle in her stomach. She needed time to sort her situation out before she confronted this newest complication. Especially the conflicting instinct drawing her to him with a magnetic pull. That buzzing energy under her skin had become a full-body hum when he’d touched her, and she was so tempted to feel it again. She exhaled and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I just want to go home.”
“I understand.” He bowed his head. And she was afraid he did understand — too much. By refusing him, she was practically admitting she had something to hide.
***
Lucas handed her the torch and hefted the chest to waist level. Frantic, desperate thoughts circled in his mind like buzzards, and centuries of pain and anguish seeped through bleeding cracks in the grave he’d built around his heart.
He’d found her. His Ana. After the restless searching and shattered hopes, she’d practically fallen into his lap. Fate had taken pity on him at last.
She walked behind him with the light, barely keeping up, as if reluctant to get too close now. He’d frightened her at first, but why was she pretending not to know him? She felt it too. He could see it in her eyes, feel it when they touched. Briana Spurrier was his Vivianne reborn.
After four hundred years…
But she wanted nothing to do with him.
It took less than twenty strides to reach the doors of the Arcanum, such was the magic of the inbetween places. For once he wished he could get lost there instead. He wanted to plead with her, to force her admission, to take her in his arms. He could act on none of those impulses. He was on duty, and she was a Councilor’s daughter. If they tarried too long, someone would come looking for them. Repercussions shouldn’t matter now, but three centuries of conditioning was hard to shake off. What he needed was time to think.
Lucas lowered the chest, removed the torch from her grasp, and hooked it back on the wall. He dutifully lifted one end of the vault and pulled the door open. “We have to carry it together to cross the wards.”
Briana didn’t answer, just nodded and hoisted the other end.
Potent emotions raged inside of him, rearing their ugly heads like long sleeping dragons. His Ana, mere feet from him, and he could do nothing. No matter how long it took for him to reach her, reach her he would. Make her remember.
The other two witches awaited as they emerged into the main hall of the vault. Light and color assaulted his vision and he rubbed his eyes. He was sweating from the exertion of so many feelings in such a short time. He wiped slick palms on his slacks and slowly mastered the storm raging inside.
The Ward’s energy pulsed with alarm, a bleating tone that rang in Lucas’s ears, and the scent coming off the human screamed of cloying possession that made his nostrils itch. The other man took Briana into his arms, and she clung to him like a lifeline.
Lucas was helpless not to watch. Long forgotten instincts flared to life — to protect, to claim what was his. A low rumble leaked from his chest, unbidden, and echoed off the marble walls. The Ward stiffened and shot him a look of pure loathing. Briana turned her face up from the human’s chest, but Lucas wouldn’t break eye contact, he couldn’t accept defeat in the silent challenge.
“Ease off,” the Ward commanded. He gently shifted Briana to stand behind him.
He should know better than to come between a Kinde and his mate. Lucas would tear him apart before he could conjure an energy blast, shred through his shields like gauze.
But Briana was watching with wide, curious, eyes. And though her soul belonged to him, Lucas could accept that her body didn’t. Yet. A half-smile pulled at his mouth as he loomed over the Zyne in his well-honed, lethal way. The human had balls. He didn’t seem scared, only wary. Not nearly wary enough.
She pulled at the Ward to draw his attention. “Let’s go.”
“Briana, I would like to speak to you,” Lucas barked. All three Zyne jumped at the suddenness of it.
“You have nothing to say to her.” The Ward took her hand and steered her away. “And you have no right to address her like that.”
“I’ll do whatever I please. You don’t speak for her.” It took every ounce of his control to keep his tone level. He’d waited four hundred years! How dare this boy try to get in his way?
“You—”
“Seriously? Should I go get you two a measuring tape?” the small, spritely witch snapped. Lucas and the Ward both blinked in surprise. Briana flushed with obvious relief. “I’m tired, I’m hungry, and chest beating is just about my least favorite sport, so I’m gonna take the woman, and we’re gonna bounce. Mmkay? You can grab that chest and get your ass upstairs.” She leveled on the Ward until he nodded.
“You…” She eyeswept Lucas. “You can look her up on facebook.”
She held out her hand. “Bri, come on.”
The moment of challenge clattered to the floor, and though his blood boiled in earnest, Lucas nodded and fell into step at the rear as the other two obeyed the little one’s orders. He didn’t know what a facebook was, but she was obviously the one in charge.
The Ward had a harder time carrying the chest than Lucas would have, but he didn’t have to walk — he faded. Which afforded Lucas enough time to formulate his next move.
How could he convince Briana, in thirty seconds or less, to see him again? She didn’t want to speak of their connection at all, wouldn’t even acknowledge it. Perhaps he could force her to do at least that. It was a starting point. It would have to be enough for now. He would get more later. Much more. He could be patient.
The Ward was waiting for them in the main hall and glared a warning over Briana’s shoulder. She turned to follow her lover’s gaze, which was all the opening Lucas needed. He snagged her hand, pulling her around to face him.
“What the—” the pixy-witch started.
Squeezing her fingers lightly, Lucas spoke low enough that only Briana could hear. He didn’t know if she spoke French, but he said, “I promised I would find you again, my heart.”
He kept his emotions firmly in check, searching Briana’s eyes for some signal of recognition. He saw when they we
lled with memories. A flash of pain and anguish that was like looking into a mirror. It should have felt strange to see his Ana looking back at him from the face of another. Even one so kind to the eyes. All he felt was elation…and hunger for more. He drank in the vision of her creamy skin, her rich, curly hair the color of red oak, bow-shaped lips that trembled as she did the same, studying his face.
He quirked a smile, and her mouth dropped open in surprise when she realized she’d given herself away.
“That’s what I thought.” Lucas’s nostrils flared as he memorized her scent, then he let her go. It wouldn’t be for long.
Chapter Sixteen
The almost-full moon was on its descent when they dropped Astrid off in her driveway. None of them had spoken a word on the trip home. Bri was too overwrought to tell if she’d started the loop-of-silence, but it was comfortable, so she let it drift on. Even her dreams since she’d come back to North Wake had been exhausting. Between jet-lag and playing catch-up to a rapidly changing reality, she felt rubbed out. Like she would raise her hand and find it transparent, see the moonlight shining through.
Somehow she’d managed to get through the longest day of her life without completely losing it. The other version of herself would have lost it. But what was an average-grade panic attack compared to an up-close and personal view of a murder, a botched fire-rescue, and a journey to a magical fortress shrouded in mist and protected by flying immortal shadows? Or finding out the man from her past-life regressions was still alive. Oh, and he recognized her.
The pound and throb behind her eyes forced her to close them. Ce-Ce’s message, the murderer, Vivianne’s connection to it all… what was she missing? And what about Eric? Her album? Could she really just cut all ties and walk away? If she didn’t call him soon, he would send a search party. Or worse, come himself. She could see the headlines now: Australian Heir Killed in Attempt to Rescue Pianist Girlfriend from Family Curse.
Rain of Ash: Skydancer Book 1 (The Zyne Legacy) Page 13
