“This circle is about to be cast and I freely stand within.”
A breeze rustled the leaves of the trees surrounding her, causing the candles’ flames to flicker and dance. Sweeping her hair from her face, Ember grasped the dagger-like anthame from the altar, pointing its sharp tip upward.
“Hail fair moon, full and bright. This circle and I welcome you this night. Blessed be your light on me and as my will so mote it be.”
A crow cawed and rustled out of the canopy above. Ember gave a startled gasp, dropping the anthame on the grass by her feet.
“Oh, it’s no use,” she whined. “How in the world did I ever think a spell to help me leave Wychwood would ever work?” Her eyes traveled to the altar she’d spent most of an hour setting up, lingering on the large black book she’d gone through so much trouble to steal.
“Even with Mother’s Book of Shadows I’m a hapless witch.”
Pursing her lips, she considered gathering up her things and sneaking back to the solstice celebration. But at the idea of relinquishing the book, and with it her only hope for a normal life, her resolve swelled.
Removing a folded piece of parchment from her satchel, she held it over a candle, beginning the spell where she’d left off.
“As this Mistletoe and paper burn, allow the smoke to carry the message of what I yearn. Blessed moon, I beg for light to guide me, love to find me, and a safe journey there please. Let these things come to me with abundance and ease.”
A smile cracked her lips at the feel of a powerful gust rushing through her hair. It didn’t happen often, but Ember remembered the feeling when a spell worked. Her body tingled from fingers to toes. Searing heat raged up her legs so suddenly she assumed elemental fire spirits had joined with her. But as the joyous sensation turned to pain, she glanced down and opened her eyes. They widened in horror at the sight of half of her white skirt ablaze.
“Balder’s blood!” She dropped to the grassy forest floor and patted at her skirt. The stench of charred cloth filled her nostrils so she turned her head, waiting for the wind to carry away the smell.
Suddenly, it registered the air around her stilled.
She glanced toward the thicket. Not a single leaf fluttered.
“Ember Galenorn, what have you done this time?” she sighed aloud.
Peering into the fire, she felt the heat from it. Only, the blaze appeared frozen in time. Heart racing, she looked up at the moon. What she saw in its silhouette made her heart quit beating altogether.
A bird poised in mid-flight was in the air above her head. She opened her mouth to scream, when a thunderous boom exploded. Ember curled into a ball, cupping her hands over her ears. Beneath her, the earth undulated in such violent waves she thought the ground would crack and swallow her whole. A blinding flash of light burst across the night sky, and the world stopped shaking.
A breeze laced with the scent of summer flowers tickled across her nose. Opening one eye, Ember noted the bird was nowhere to be seen. With a groan she pushed herself up to her knees. The entire circle was thick with an acrid smoke. Fanning the air in front of her, she glanced about in disbelief.
“Urgh, I can’t do anything right,” she muttered, brushing leaves and grass from her now ruined clothing as she stood. “If that wasn’t a sign from the gods I have no business tinkering with magic, I don’t know what is.”
As if in answer, a deep cough sounded nearby. Ember squinted through the smoke.
“Who’s there?”
A low moan came in answer. Bending, she groped until she found her anthame. Snatching the hilt, she stepped toward the altar.
As she neared, the smoke began to lessen until she could make out a large shape on the ground. Then, in a whoosh all the smoke parted, revealing a man balled up on the grass like a child.
A naked man.
Ember squeaked, releasing the dagger to cover her mouth with her hands.
At first she didn’t know whether to run or stay and help. Then the stranger groaned again, such an agonizing sound it made her heart twist. Gulping, she leaned over, grasping her father’s brown robe from the altar.
“Sir?”
He made no move or reply.
Ember squatted beside him to place the cloak atop his back—a back she suddenly couldn’t seem to take her eyes off. Having lived in a coven of women all her life, she’d never seen a man before and wondered if all looked this virile and strong. For his broad shoulders and columned back were reminiscent of a god statue she’d seen in one of her mother’s books.
As her eyes followed the rigid planes of his body, she frowned, noticing his flesh appeared charred in places. Steam rose off him as though he were a freshly brewed cup of tea.
“S-sir,” she stammered, shifting her focus to his dirty blond head, “I-I am going to cover you with this.”
The instant the fabric touched his skin, the man whipped around, clamping his hand about her neck. With lips curled in a menacing snarl, he slowly squeezed the air from her body. His eyes bore into hers with such madness and rage it sent talons of fear clawing down her spine. Struggling for a breath, her hands lifted to pry his fingers from her neck.
“Pl … ea … se,” she beseeched.
At her strangled words, the pressure about her neck eased. His features softened and bewildered, almost remorseful eyes dropped to the hand about her neck. With a lurch, he thrust her from him.
Ember fell onto her hip. Coughing for air, she crawled away. A glimpse back showed he wasn’t following her. In fact, he sat on his haunches, cupping his head like it pained him.
Then an object in the grass flickered in the moonlight, catching her attention.
The anthame.
Thank you, blessed moon, for your guidance.
She edged toward the weapon. Vowing she’d not go without a fight. Wishing she’d listened to her mother about the likes of men—they were nothing but beasts.
Snatching the knife, she stowed it behind her back.
“You won’t need that.” The man’s deep voice rumbled through her with the same force as the quaking earth earlier.
She licked her lips, unable to answer.
“Pray … forgive me, for harming you. The … pain … the heat … I,” he stuttered, as if unable to find the right words.
Her grip on the weapon slackened. Though she knew not why, she believed him when he said he didn’t mean to harm her. He looked wretched, as if choking her had taken all the strength he’d possessed.
“Sir, I’ll forgive you, if you answer my questions.”
After a moment, his head lifted. When his eyes met hers, her breath caught, for she saw no malice or anger in their azure depths
“Ask your questions.”
Ember cleared her throat before speaking. “Who are you? How did you get out here and where did you come from?”
“His name is Balder,” a sneering voice sounded from behind her.
Ember wheeled around and thrust out the weapon before her at the man, cloaked from head to foot.
“While I’ve no idea how he got here, I’m going to send him back to the Hell he just came from.”
“Balder,” Ember said. “The favored son of the god Odin? The one sent to the underworld?”
The man nodded. Beneath his hood, she caught sight of two glowing red eyes. All the blood drained to her toes.
“Then you must be…” she asked still unbelieving.
“Loki.”
Ember spun around at the sound of Balder’s deep voice.
“In the flesh.” Loki bowed, casually flipping back the cloak’s hood when he rose. Ember reeled at the sight of mangled flesh and misplaced patches of hair on his head. It looked as if his flesh had melted like wax drips from a candle.
“Blessed be,” she whispered, fixing her eyes on Balder once more.
* * * *
At the girl’s hushed words, Balder turned to her. He’d almost forgotten she was there. Looking at her fiery long hair and creamy skin, he wondered how he coul
d have. A long forgotten feeling pulsed through him. If he were his old self, he might have even smiled at her.
But he was not.
“So Loki, how did you find me so quickly?” He bent, taking up the woolen cloak from the grass and tugging it on to cover himself.
Every muscle in his body felt fatigued and useless from his journey from the underworld. Yet the hate coursing through him seemed to give him renewed strength. He’d waited centuries for a chance to finally kill Loki. Not just for his own murder, but for those of his wife and brother. Loki would pay for all of them.
And I will enjoy every minute of his torture, he thought stepping toward him.
His leg buckled and all thoughts of revenge fled. Unable to support his own body, he collapsed at Loki’s feet. The sound of demented laughter echoed through the forest.
“Think you can fight me, do you?” Loki circled Balder as an animal does wounded prey. “Tsk, tsk … it shall take hours for you to regain strength.”
“To fight is why you summoned me, is it not?” Balder roared in frustration, as he pressed off his knee to stand.
“I didn’t summon you. Hel may be the Keeper of the Underworld, but she’s first and foremost my daughter. She shall suffer grievously for letting this witch free you!”
“A witch?” Balder’s brows notched, as he turned his attention to the pretty, young woman. Here he’d thought her nothing but a hapless female in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yet she freed him. “I don’t understand?”
“Of course not, you fool,” Loki sneered. “When I finally escaped that rock your father dumped me on, I ordered Hel release everyone from the Underworld—everyone but you. Unless I send you back, fate decrees we both shall die, trying to kill the other. Then the time of the gods shall end, once and for all. That I cannot allow.”
Loki removed a sprig of mistletoe from his cloak and twirled it between his thumb and forefinger. “Remember this?”
At the sight of the damnable plant, Balder’s stomach turned.
“Ah, I see you do,” he continued. “It worked so well last time, I figured, even though you’re mortal now, why risk using anything else?”
Balder took a step backward. He knew if he didn’t kill Loki before his heart was pierced with the mistletoe, he’d end up back in Hell … and all his hopes for revenge would be lost. Taking another step back, his eyes darted about the clearing for a weapon.
The girl! She had a knife of some sort. Balder glanced her way.
“Oh, don’t fret over her,” Loki said, opening his cloak to reveal a gleaming silver sword. “After I finish with you, the lovely witch will be right behind.”
At Loki’s threat, the girl’s skin turned even more pallid than he deemed possible. Then, two brilliant green eyes, as full and encompassing as the moon above, looked into his.
Witch eyes.
They drew him, bespelled him with their timeless depths, almost making him forget that their very lives were at stake.
Shaking his head to rid the dizziness, he gave a faint nod at the knife. Her tawny brows furrowed, but then her gaze followed his to her hand.
When he glanced up, he saw understanding in her eyes just before they widened in alarm.
“Look out!” she cried.
Balder shifted at her warning, but not fast enough. Pain seared through his shoulder where the tip of Loki’s weapon pierced his flesh. Gritting his teeth, he crumpled to his knees. Feeling the plant’s poisonous effect ripple through already useless muscles, he fell back upon the grass, awaiting death to claim him once again.
A shriek rang through the night sky. Blinking back vertigo, he stared, transfixed at the sight above. The full moon … it shone so bright … so peaceful in the star sprinkled sky. After centuries in Hell, he couldn’t recall ever seeing anything so beautiful.
Until she loomed above him.
“Come,” she ordered.
Despite the urgency in her voice, he seemed only able to focus on the sweet scent of her hair. How it felt like strands of silk as it brushed across his face, lulling him for his journey back to the Underworld.
“Balder, get up! Something’s happening to him.”
The fear in her voice pulled him back. “He’s a … shape-changer,” he sputtered, glancing over at Loki. Shocked to see him writhing in pain on the grass. One of his legs already transformed into that of a horse. “Wh … what did you do to him?”
“Stabbed him. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do? Now hurry!”
* * * *
Ember tossed her satchel over her shoulder and yanked on Balder’s arm. For a god, the man was feeble … and heavy.
“Urgh,” she grunted, as he finally came to his feet.
The arm she’d slung about her shoulder rested uncomfortably close to her breast. He didn’t seem to notice, so she ignored it. Ignored the way his breath brushed against her ear and neck. Pushed away all thoughts of how different it felt to have an iron-muscled man draped against her body and focused instead on her steps. Between the waning moonlight and his burden, she could barely manage. When her toe caught on a protruding tree root she couldn’t stop them from falling.
She winced when they hit the ground. He only groaned and rolled to his back. Hoof beats pounded the earth and reverberated through her body. Ember moved beside him and shook his shoulders.
“Get up. Loki’s coming.”
His eyes closed.
With a sigh, she sat back on her heels. Wisps of hair stuck to her lips as she huffed for air, and she swept them away. “Okay, Ember, think!”
She glanced at the man on the ground. Her eyes lingered upon the thatch of hair on his broad chest the askew cloak didn’t cover.
The cloak.
“Of course,” she said, unfastening the knot before his waist and pulling the cloak wide. At the sight of him, she sucked in a strained breath. As her eyes ran the length of his naked form, she wasn’t sure if she could go through with her plan.
A strident neigh cut through the air nearby.
Ember threw herself atop Balder, wrapping the cloak securely to cover them both. Careful to keep their legs from view, she eased one of hers between his thighs. The other hung off to his side. Bracing her hands upon his chest, she rested her chin atop them. When she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she tried to ignore the intoxicating scent of the man beneath her fingertips, lest she knew she’d never recall the words.
“By earth and air, water and fire, keep us hidden as I desire. When evil walks by, his intentions mean, your cover will render us unseen.”
Something large moved through the underbrush. She froze. Loki’s steps, which had once come toward her in a steady, purposeful rhythm, now crept eerily slow, deliberate.
The spell wasn’t working. She grimaced.
Again, she closed her eyes to say the words, when a large hand plopped atop her left buttock. Before she could react, the hand squeezed, pressing her tightly against its owner. She was certain she should be mortified. Instead a rush of heat rippled across her body, pooling somewhere in her lower belly.
Ember gasped and planted her palms on his chest to push off him. The ground beside her rumbled as a massive hoof stomped atop it, stilling her movement.
Heart hammering, Ember tried to focus on the spell and not the two gods waging war against her—albeit in two completely different ways, she sighed, as another palm began kneading the flesh of her other buttock. She whispered the words, realizing her hands now explored the rigid planes of his chest and shoulder.
His hands shifted, first sliding down her hips, then both thighs. When he raked his fingers up them, it sent a shutter up her spine and made her toes curl.
Forgetting the spell, forgetting everything but the scent, feel, and hands of the man beneath her, Ember relaxed her head atop his chest. The hair on it tickled her cheek, so she moved higher, nuzzling against the hollow of his throat.
The man may have just come from Hell, she mused, but this little space of his neck sure smelled l
ike heaven. A more wicked version of heaven no doubt, but heaven indeed.
So, this is what a man is like.
“Hmmm,” he moaned.
A resonating, sensual groan that made Ember’s already quivering insides melt. When he nudged his head atop hers, Ember obeyed his silent command and lifted her chin. So contented, she barely flinched when one of his palms brushed against her breast. Didn’t protest when they both cupped her cheeks, pulling her mouth up to his. She knew it was madness, knew she should stop him. But she didn’t seem to have the will to resist what she’d craved for so long.
She closed her eyes just as his warm lips touched hers.
It was her turn to moan as his firm, yet tender lips caressed her own. The moist heat of his mouth sent a jolt through her body, scorching her to the marrow. When he swept his tongue across her lips that heat pooled in her belly until she thought she’d dissolve in his strong arms. Then they wrapped about her, plastering her even tighter atop his lean, muscular body. Brushing her stomach against the bulge hardening between his thighs, Ember gasped, only to sigh as he began trailing open-mouthed kisses down her neck.
* * * *
Balder hadn’t had a dream this incredible in centuries. That witch had indeed cast a spell on him … a powerful one. He could actually feel her innocent lips relax and then soften beneath his. Taste the salty sweetness of her skin. Feel her curvaceous body pressing, oh so achingly perfect atop his, in such a way he’d not felt in … a lifetime it seemed.
Yes, a woman like her could make a man forget just about anything. Even a wife.
“Nanna?” he frowned.
The woman in his dream stiffened in his arms, then shoved off him.
Only after the night air pricked the skin she’d been warming so efficiently, did he remember he was naked. At the sight of the witch, stomping away, he realized not only hadn’t he been dreaming, but he’d called her by his wife’s name. He grimaced, rubbing the back of his head.
“Where’s are we? Where’s Loki?”
“How should I know? I was under there, too.”
Blue Moon Magic Page 9
