She had forgotten the amulet. When he mentioned it, she recalled that it had been made from jade. He was right. It should have granted him wisdom, and that wisdom should have prevented him from using the wand. So why hadn’t it?
“Let me see the amulet,” she said, unable to recall exactly what it looked like.
He grabbed the chain and pulled it from beneath his shirt. When he did, she saw the butterflies carved into the stone and knew exactly why it hadn’t prevented him from using the wishing wand.
She brought her hand to her mouth and shook her head, too dazed to absorb the ramifications of what she’d done. Why, out of all the amulets, had she chosen that one? Because she’d been in a hurry to curb Ryan’s powers before she fell asleep. She’d been concentrating on the properties of the stone, not the meaning of the amulet. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten one of jade’s most ancient uses.
The future is mine, and now yours will be mine!
Another Tarot card appeared in front of her. It was The Hierophant, reversed. The Hierophant was a religious figure, and reversed it meant unconventionality and unorthodoxy in religious practices. No card could have been more fitting for the moment.
As the card fell to the floor, Ryan asked, “What’s going on?”
Shana slowly raised her eyes to his and said, “Jade not only grants wisdom. It is an ancient love-attracting stone, and that particular amulet is a . . .”
“A what?” he demanded, scowling at her.
“A witch’s vow.”
“A witch’s vow? What the hell is that?”
“It’s a jade stone that binds a witch and a warlock together. When a witch gives it to a warlock and he accepts it, they’re . . .”
“They’re what?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head again. Then she opened her eyes and said, “In mortal terminology, when you accepted that amulet from me, we entered into a common law marriage. Quite simply, Ryan, you and I are mated for life.”
Chapter Ten
The Tower Card
Unforeseen Catastrophe
RYAN BLINKED AT Shana several times in rapid succession. Then he yelled, “What the hell do you mean we’re mated for life? What kind of insane game are you trying to play with me?”
Shana took a step backward and regarded him nervously. His eyes were beginning to glow, and a strong breeze, just like the one that accompanied a warlock’s temper, was starting to emanate from him. Any doubts she had about his claim of having a warlock’s power disappeared.
“I am not playing a game with you,” she said, hoping to pacify him. He didn’t know how to control the breeze, which would grow in direct proportion to his anger. If he got mad enough, it could reach cyclonic force. “I’m sure if you’ll just calm down . . .”
The breeze became a wind. “You trick me into a common law marriage, and you want me to calm down?”
“I did not trick you. It was an honest mistake, and if you want to be mad at someone, you should be mad at yourself. This is your fault,” she accused, knowing she had to make him angry with himself. Then he would propel his anger inward, not outward.
“My fault?”
“Yes, your fault. You’re the one who gave me the sleeping potion. If you hadn’t done that, I would not have given you the amulet.”
“I gave you the damn sleeping potion, because you were trying to drug me with it!”
The wind grew so strong it began to whip her hair around her face. She suspected he was barely aware of what was happening. He was like a fledgling warlock, who was always oblivious to anything going on around him when he was mad. But why wasn’t he reading her mind, so he’d know how devastating his anger could be? A glance toward the stained-glass pentagram overhead gave her the answer. It was nearly noon, and his mental powers were lessening. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t curb the side effects of his temper.
Knowing he was too enraged to listen to reason, she rebutted, “If you hadn’t kept insisting that I go to bed, I wouldn’t have tried to drug you.”
“I wanted you in bed because I was concerned about your health!”
The wind increased to the point that the books on the floor were flying open, and Shana stumbled backward beneath its force. If she hadn’t come up against the railing, she was sure she would have fallen off the balcony.
“Well, you weren’t concerned about my health when you drugged me, because you were able to read my mind by then,” she countered. “You knew that there was nothing seriously wrong with me, but did you tell me that? No. You let me use the potion, and then you switched it out of spite.”
“I did not switch it out of spite!”
A gale erupted around them. Books began to fly through the air, and Shana could hear the rattle of glass both above and below them. The balcony swayed beneath her feet, and the creaking of wood assured her that it was in danger of collapsing. Obviously, Ryan was not willing to accept his responsibility in this debacle and turn his anger inward. She had to find another way to stop him. But how?
Appeal to his libido.
Even as the thought presented itself, she knew she couldn’t do it. He already believed she had tricked him into mating with her. Seduction, even if it didn’t progress beyond a kiss, might temporarily allay his temper. In the end, however, it would only make the problem worse. She had to find another way to stop him. Maybe she could appeal to his intellect, and—
Her musing was interrupted by a loud crack. When she felt the railing give way behind her, she let out a scream. Frantically, she flailed her arms for balance, but the wind was too powerful. As she fell backward, she instinctively closed her eyes and screamed again.
But instead of dropping to the floor below, she felt something grab her wrist. Her body jerked to a stop so rapidly that she felt as if her arm had been yanked out of its socket. Pain exploded through her, but she welcomed it. As long as she could hurt, she wasn’t dead.
Opening her eyes, she told herself not to look down, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from doing so. She shuddered. Directly below her was a bundle of archaic spears made out of magical steel. They had been tied together and were stored in a tall, narrow urn, with their razor-sharp tips pointing upward. If she had fallen . . .
Shuddering again, she glanced up. Ryan was kneeling above her, one hand gripping the balcony’s edge, and the other locked around her wrist. Evidently, he had received a warlock’s quick reflexes and strength along with the powers, and she heaved a grateful sigh.
She no more than did so, however, than his features began to blur and shift. She let out a terrified gasp. He was reverting to Aric, and the last time he had done so, he wanted to kill her!
“So, we finally meet again,” he drawled, when his face completed its metamorphosis. “I told you that you would never defeat me, and this time I will make sure you are destroyed forever.”
Shana shook her head, too frightened to speak. To her horror, he said, “You have always underestimated me, Moira, and you should be smarter than that. I am, after all, your creation. My soul is as black as yours.”
“I am not Moira! I am Shana!”
“You can’t fool me with that deception. I can recognize you, no matter what guise you wear.”
“This is not a guise! I am Shana Morland!” she cried desperately, realizing that he might release his grip on her wrist at any moment. She had to persuade him to pull her onto the balcony.
“Touch my mind, Aric,” she urged fervently. “You’ll see that I’m powerless. I can’t harm you, and I can’t run away from you. Pull me onto the balcony. Give yourself a chance to make sure Moira isn’t tricking you again. Don’t let her make you act rashly, because if you make a mistake, she will have defeated you!”
She saw the confusion in his eyes and could sense the war of wills taking place inside him. She wanted to make anot
her appeal, but instinct told her that if she pushed too hard, he might become more convinced that she was Moira.
Without warning, he began to pull her up. Shana hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she released it in a relieved rush. The instant she was on the balcony, she crawled to the bookcases against the wall. If Ryan’s Aric persona changed his mind, she didn’t want to make it easy for him to throw her over the side.
Sitting down, she rubbed her aching shoulder and arm. Suddenly, Ryan loomed in front of her. Slowly, fearfully, she glanced up at him, hoping that he had changed back to himself. He hadn’t. She shivered beneath his intense, probing gaze which was so full of hatred it was almost palpable.
Unexpectedly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her to her feet. His fingers dug into her flesh, making her flinch in pain, and he shook her hard, as he declared furiously, “You are Moira!”
“I am not Moira. I am Shana Morland, and Moira is making you believe that I’m her in disguise.”
“Do you think I’m a fool?” he roared. “When you tricked me into mating with you before, you pretended to be Terza!”
Suddenly, Shana understood what was happening. Moira had tricked Aric into mating with her by assuming the identity of his true mate. Ryan thought she had purposely tricked him with the amulet. When Ryan assumed Aric’s persona, he believed that history was repeating itself. But why was Moira causing him to become Aric? It didn’t make sense.
“Listen to me, Aric. Moira is a spirit-witch. If you kill me, she will claim my soul, and you’ll be giving her life.”
“You’re lying! I see her in you!” he bellowed, his eyes beginning to glow.
“She also made you believe that she was Terza. Think about that. She knows how much you hate her. If she wanted you to destroy an innocent person, wouldn’t she make you believe that you were killing her?”
Again, she saw confusion enter his eyes. Abruptly, he released his hold on her shoulders and turned away from her. He strode to the edge of the balcony where the railing had given way and stared down at the floor. She knew he couldn’t have stood there for more than a minute or two, but it seemed like hours before he turned back to face her. When he did, she was startled to see that he was Ryan again.
His eyes were glazed with shock and his face was pallid as he whispered hoarsely, “My God, I can’t believe that I almost killed you!”
“That wasn’t you! It was Moira manipulating you,” Shana replied, stunned to realize that he remembered what had happened. With the type of magic Moira would have to use to change him into Aric, he shouldn’t have remembered anything.
He shook his head, his face growing paler. “It was me. I am Aric.”
“No,” she stated firmly. “For some bizarre reason, Moira is turning you into Aric, but she’s doing it through magic. All you are is the instrument she’s using against me.”
“You’re wrong, Shana. You are Moira’s instrument, and she’s using you against me, because she wants my soul.”
“That’s absurd,” she said, rubbing at her shoulder. Between the fall and Aric’s manhandling, it was now throbbing. “You’re a mortal, and she needs someone with power. That’s why she is trying to make you kill me. The only thing I can’t figure out is why she keeps turning you into Aric.”
“She’s turning me into Aric because that’s the only way she can repeat the cycle.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked in bewilderment.
He raked a hand through his hair and frowned. “Aric was a mortal, Shana. Moira sacrificed part of her powers to transform him into a warlock. I don’t know how or why, but it was his transformation that cursed her.”
Shana opened her mouth to object, but Ryan held up a hand. “The only way Moira can regain existence is to repeat what happened between her and Aric. That’s why she took away your powers. She had to transfer them to me so that the past could be recreated. Now that I have the power, she can do battle with me. And she has to fight me, because the only way she can be reborn is to defeat me and claim my soul.”
Shana surged to her feet, perched her hands on her hips, and frowned at him. “Moira is feeding you all this garbage so that I’ll be confused!”
“It’s not garbage. It’s the truth.”
“And how do you know that for sure?”
“Because I asked the wishing wand for the magical skills I needed to save you from Moira. When I became Aric, I learned what I needed to know from the past.”
He paused and studied her thoughtfully. “The only thing I don’t understand is how you fit into the puzzle. For some inexplicable reason, Moira wants you dead, and I’m the only one who can save you from her. Whenever I become Aric, however, you appear to me as Moira and I want to kill you.
“In short, you’re in danger from both of us,” he went on. “I’d suggest that one of us leave Sanctuary, but you were right. Moira won’t let either of us go until she and I have fought our battle. That means you must always be on your guard around me, because I can change into Aric without warning.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to believe what he was saying, but he had used the wishing wand. A cold wave of fear washed over her.
“If what you’re saying is true, there is no way you can fight Moira by yourself,” she told him. “She may have empowered you, but you don’t know how to use those powers. Are you absolutely sure it’s your soul she wants?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure about that,” he stated dryly.
She nodded. “In that case, she’s no threat to Lucien. We can go to him for help.”
“No!”
When she looked at him in confusion, he said, “You were right in keeping Moira’s presence hidden from Lucien. It’s my soul she wants, but she can—and will—destroy anyone who tries to interfere. No one, and I mean no one, must know what’s going on. We have to do this on our own.”
Again, Shana shook her head, but she didn’t know what she was denying. Burying her face in her hands, she cried miserably, “I can’t believe this is happening. Why did I use the Tarot? Why didn’t I just let the future unfold on its own?”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said.
She jerked her head up and gaped at him. “A spirit-witch, who just happened to be the most powerful witch who ever lived, wants me dead and wants your soul. I don’t see how we can possibly defeat her, because I’m a trained witch without an ounce of power. You’re an untrained mortal with power. We can’t ask anyone for help, and you’re telling me not to be so hard on myself?”
“What’s done is done, Shana, and beating yourself up won’t change it. All we can do is fight this battle the best we can.”
“How can you be so blasé about this?” she asked impatiently. “Don’t you understand the seriousness of the situation? You could lose your life, Ryan. You could lose your soul!”
“Things could be worse.”
“How could they possibly be worse?”
He shrugged. “I might beat Moira. I’m starving. Let’s go have some breakfast.”
He turned and headed down the stairs and Shana stared at his retreating back in complete bafflement. How could defeating Moira be worse than losing his soul?
The future is mine, and now yours will be mine!
At Moira’s chant, Shana’s mind was thrust back in time.
She was leaning over Ryan after his accident, trying to figure out why he was unconscious. Suddenly, she was caught in a whirling vortex, and its emotional emptiness terrified her. She was trapped in a mind that had no soul, and a person who had no soul had nothing to bind them to this world. Their fondest wish—their greatest fantasy—was death.
The memory ended, and Shana felt something slide into her hand. She looked down. When she saw the Tarot card, she let out a frightened whimper. It was The Tower, and the faces
of the woman and man tumbling from its crumbling facade were hers and Ryan’s.
The card was predicting unforeseen catastrophe, and she suddenly understood the meaning behind Ryan’s words. He wasn’t upset about fighting Moira, because his greatest fear wasn’t death. It was life.
Tucking the card into her pocket, she hurried after him. She had to find a way to change his attitude, or Moira was going to destroy them both!
AS RYAN STRODE into Shana’s kitchen, he decided he’d never felt more alive. It was as if he’d been waiting all his life for this moment. The feeling was so overpowering that he felt dizzy, and he stopped and shook his head.
“Is something wrong?” Shana said behind him.
He spun toward her in surprise. How had she managed to sneak up on him without him knowing it? It suddenly dawned on him that he could no longer read her mind. Panic stirred inside him. Had he lost his newly acquired powers?
That couldn’t be possible, he quickly assured himself. Moira wanted—needed—him to have powers for them to confront each other. But if he hadn’t lost his powers, then why couldn’t he read Shana’s mind?
“Have your powers come back?” he asked, concluding that that was the only answer that made sense.
“Unfortunately, no,” she stated ruefully. “What makes you think they might have?”
He frowned. “For hours I’ve known your every thought and every move. Now, there’s nothing.”
“That’s because it’s almost noon,” she said, heading for the stove. “Our powers peak at midnight and wane at midday. They will begin to gradually increase between now and sunset.”
“You mean I’m powerless?” he gasped, alarmed by the possibility. “What am I supposed to do if Moira comes after us?”
“You are not powerless;” she replied, turning to the sink and filling the teakettle with water. “You’re weak, but so is Moira. She can torment us between now and nightfall, but she can’t harm us.”
“The hell she can’t. Look what she just did in the repository. She broke the railing on the balcony and almost killed you!”
Touch of Magic Page 17
