by Ann Gimpel
Liliana sprang forward and grabbed a handful of jacket, but it burst into flames, burning her hand. Still, she didn’t let go. Smoke rose, choking her. The owl dove forward, skimming the water’s surface with its wings as power spilled from it.
“Cut his casting,” the bird shrieked into her mind.
She didn’t waste time asking how. She didn’t know exactly what to do, but she’d figure it out. Reaching deep, she threw her magical center wide open, grateful to the point of tears it responded. Her right hand was useless. The fire that had no visible source was scouring flesh from bone. She built a wall between herself and the pain and let magic flow through her, instructing it to undo Sean’s spell.
The owl pinned its wings behind it and dove into the pool.
“Noooo,” Liliana shrieked. She’d just been reunited with her familiar. Losing it again would be unbearable.
It surfaced, a plug in its beak, and she understood. No water in the basin meant a natural end to magic careening through the room like a runaway arcade game. She still clutched Sean’s jacket. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, she’d felt it slipping from her fingers. Not because she’d let go, but because Rhea was doing her damnedest to draw him back through time.
Having snared him once, she had the feel of his energy. It would make capturing him a second time much easier. Liliana kicked herself for not thinking about that before.
Water gurgled down the drain. When the basin had emptied by half, the horrific scene, witches atop dragons, vanished. She dragged Sean backward until they both tumbled onto the dirt floor. He rolled off her onto hands and knees, coughing and hacking.
“Christ. Daft of me not to ward myself better,” he said once he was done coughing water out of his lungs. “That craven bitch. She nabbed me once. Dinna even break a sweat to repeat what worked for her before.”
Liliana had curled to a sit, nursing her wounded hand. Despite showering it with magic, it hurt like hell. “Yeah. She doesn’t fight fair. We should remember that.”
Sean crawled to where she sat. The owl was back. Rather than adding to her pain with its talons, though, it had settled on the floor leaning into her and linking its restorative magic to hers.
“Och aye, just look at your puir, wee hand. Ye and your owl saved me, lass. I’m forever in your debt.”
Liliana raised her head and gazed at him. Water ran down his hair and the front of his shirt. Four reddened claw marks scored one side of his face. “Shit. She almost had you.”
“Tell me something I doona know.” His nostrils flared. “She had hold of me through time. Ye and the owl kept me anchored in this room. Druid power helped too, since I constructed this cavern with my own blood.”
“How could she use your own spell to trap you?”
“’Tis time’s curse, lass. Once ye open a channel, it runs both ways. Give me your hand. Let me heal you.”
She held it out, wincing at the movement. “I’ve been working on it with my own magic. The owl’s been helping.”
He didn’t say anything, but she felt a jolt as he joined his power with hers. The charred places turned red and then pink as flesh reformed. The spots where bone had shown through vanished. Best of all, the pain receded. She sucked a deep, cleansing breath into her lungs, blew it out, and did it again.
“Better.” He shook his head. “I have no idea what Rhea’s feeding from, but she’s growing stronger.”
The terror Liliana had dodged earlier returned with a vengeance, and something with sharp claws worked its way up her spine. It was tough to talk around the dry place in her throat, but the words had to come out. “If we can barely prevail with several centuries between us, how the hell will we manage confronting her in her own time?”
A muscle danced beneath one of Sean’s eyes. “We will because we have to. There will be no peace for any of us until she and her band of dead Roskellys are confined to Hell.”
“But isn’t that where she’s borrowing demons and dragons from?”
“Aye, the upper regions. We’ll see her locked behind the gates of the Ninth Circle.”
Liliana knew she was supposed to believe in magic to strengthen the odds of it working, but she didn’t hold an optimistic view of their chances. Even if they shot Rhea’s dragon out from under her and wrapped her in chains, the other three witches wouldn’t let her go without one hell of a fight.
Sean stumbled to his feet and then offered her a hand to draw her upright. The opal suspended from his neck glimmered in light from the fire. She focused on how it reflected colors in hundreds of prisms to steady herself.
The owl floated upward, taking its place on her shoulder. “I might have an idea,” it said. “Let me work on it.”
Before she could question it, the place it lived in her mind blanked out, and she understood it had left. Not hovering on the sidelines like it often did when it wasn’t visible, but truly gone.
Sean let go of her long enough to scoop up the array of shiny rocks he’d cast in front of the basin. Once he’d dropped them into a pocket, he took her hand and they left the room. Being in the hall had a cleansing effect. Maybe she was feeling so dispirited because a chunk of Rhea had glommed onto her too.
Made sense. If both she and her grandmother had hold of Sean, he would have functioned as a conduit. Plenty of opportunity for Rhea to sow seeds of doubt and despair.
“Are ye feeling better, lassie?”
“A little. Guess she got to me through you.”
“Ye nailed it. She’s one conniving bitch and wouldna miss an opportunity to damage you any way she could.”
Liliana closed her teeth over her lower lip so hard she drew blood. Of all people, she understood justice wasn’t an element in the Black Witch lexicon. An image of Rhea, long, dark hair flying, straddling Warren as she bled him of anything resembling humanity rose to the fore.
She shook a fist at the empty hallway, determined to avenge his death.
And even more determined her grandmother wouldn’t cause harm to anyone else she loved. Not now. Not ever again.
Chapter 10
Sean concealed his shock at how easy it had been for Rhea to reach through time. He’d been warded, but not comprehensively. He couldn’t maintain a ward and have sufficient magic left over to cast his scrying spell through its shielding.
Footsteps—lots of them—pounded toward them. The hollow ring of boots on stone sounded ominous, but he was still rattled—and furious—at Rhea Roskelly. She must have set markers for his particular magical signature. It was the only explanation for how she’d been aware of his casting almost the moment he’d created it.
Normally, scrying spells were stealth operations. Invisible on the receiving end.
Arlen raced toward him and Liliana, with Gloria and Kat right behind him. “What the bloody fucking hell?” he demanded as he skidded to a halt.
“We felt power explode down here.” Gloria’s lips were skinned back from her teeth, and she looked fierce.
The other Druids, Morgan in the lead, ran to them, their expressions ranging from worried to angry.
Sean hunted for an explanation that wouldn’t take forever to explain. “Time’s curse boomeranged on me. I opened a channel. Rhea glommed onto it and reached through.”
“Goddamn it.” Morgan punched the air with a clenched fist. “This is my fault. I suggested you scry our future. Rhea must have been lying in wait for you like a hell-spawned bat.”
“It’s no one’s fault.” Sean wove a protective arm around Liliana’s shoulders. “If it hadn’t been for Liliana and the owl, though, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
Gloria’s eyes widened. “Solid work, daughter. I take it you’re done downplaying your magic.”
“Christ, Mother. Do you have to turn every single misfortune into a lecture?” Liliana bristled.
“It was a compliment.” Gloria bristled right back.
“Yeah, right. Cloaked in a rebuke.”
“Stop it, you two.” Katerina stepped between th
em.
Liliana slid from beneath Sean’s arm and hurried back toward his subterranean workspace. When she returned, she had the bottle of whiskey and was drinking from it. He took it from her and swallowed enough to welcome the burn as it coated his throat.
“Upstairs, everyone,” Arlen, clearly back in command mode, instructed.
Sean thought about retrieving their plates, but they weren’t important. He trudged up the stairs, shuffling options as he went. They couldn’t do nothing, but Liliana had made a valid point when she’d choked out her worries about how they’d hold their own against dragon-riding witches.
The other problem was none of them who’d lived through the 1700s could remain there long. Not with the earlier version of themselves present as well. It wasn’t insurmountable, but they’d have to locate their earlier selves and send them into the future to maintain a psychic balance point.
He rounded the corner into the upstairs hall with Liliana next to him. She’d been silent after the carping match with her mother, but her mind was busy. Concern mixed with determination streamed from her in waves. He shared both those emotions. Whatever they did next, they had to get things right. Being trapped in the past was a definite possibility if Rhea or her sisters cut them off from their magic.
A faint buzzing reminded him of the opal suspended from its golden chain and the one on his index finger. Grateful for the help they’d provided, he removed the magical accoutrements and tucked them into a pocket where they joined the collection of power-imbued stones. He’d come within a hairsbreadth of getting sucked through the vortex he’d opened in time. It didn’t require much of an imagination—or any scrying talent at all—to deduce what would have happened to him if Rhea had been successful.
Aye, she’d have fed me to one of the dragons.
After she bled me of my magic.
Everyone was gathered in the great room, the mood decidedly north of somber. Sean didn’t blame them. They hadn’t been called upon to be warriors for the better part of two centuries. Most of them were content wielding their power as a sideline and spending most of their time engaged in other pursuits.
Like his cozy desk at the bank.
Would he ever sit there again, pouring over columns of numbers on an encrypted Excel spreadsheet?
He pushed the thought to a distant spot. Like the food plates abandoned below, whether he ever held court over Druid money again wasn’t at stake here. Arlen motioned him forward, and he joined the Arch Druid facing the group. He’d known Arlen too long not to recognize he’d already developed a plan.
Sean girded himself. Generally, if he disagreed with Arlen he kept it to himself, but this wasn’t a time for blanket agreements. Each Druid’s power held subtle differences. Arlen was more of a big picture guy, whereas Sean focused on details. Much like his financial work, lack of attention to the fine print was often your undoing in magical matters as well.
And then, they had to consider witch magic. Of the three Roskellys, Gloria was the only one confident in her power. The familiars added yet one more unknown layer. Sean nodded at Arlen, determined to make certain their discussion dealt with as many wrinkles as they uncovered.
Going into the past unprepared was far worse than not going at all.
Arlen’s shrewd dark eyes settled briefly on each of them before he began to speak. “The reason I ended up Arch Druid was I charged into the midst of problems and managed to come up victorious. Not quite sure how I finessed it, but my luck always held.” He took a measured breath. “Every one of those challenges presented a single path—at least to my way of viewing it. By following it to its endpoint, Druids prevailed.
“I’m having hell’s own time locating that path for us now.” He shook his head until his unbound dark hair danced around him. “I’ve played every option I can think of through my mind, but I’ll be damned if I can see through to the endgame for any of them. Something clouds my vision, and it’s making me deucedly uncomfortable.”
He tilted his chin in Katerina’s direction. “At first I told myself it was because I’m newly wedded and worried about protecting my wife.”
“That’s not it.” Sean saved Arlen the trouble of blundering through telling them he had no bloody idea what they should do next.
Surprise scored Arlen’s features as he turned to Sean, his almost invisible second. “Do you know what is?”
Sean quirked one brow. “Many things. We’re outmanned and outgunned. The only way we’ll power our way through this is by stealth.”
“As in?” Arlen made come-along motions.
“Not certain. I’m still puzzling through it. We have assets. Blended magic is one. The familiars are another. We also have liabilities. We can’t share the same time period with the earlier versions of ourselves. We’re also vulnerable, more so than we would be here. It wouldn’t take much for Rhea to trap us in the past. Cut off from our own time, we’d eventually fade.”
“Why?” Liliana asked. “If your doppelganger wasn’t there—assuming he moved to another time period—wouldn’t it fix the problem?”
“Not entirely,” Gloria answered. “It would mean we could remain longer, perhaps years, but you can’t stay indefinitely, living through the same eras a second time. It violates some sort of supernatural law.”
“If that’s true, how’d you manage to relocate to the 1890s?” Liliana turned suspicious eyes on her mother.
“Smart witch.” Gloria sent an approving glance in Liliana’s direction. “Two ways.” She extended a finger. “Number one was that the earlier version of me was delighted to jump forward in time.” A second finger joined the first. “She and I traded places every few years. We remained in our rightful time periods long enough to settle the energy, and then traded back. It was never my intention to stay in Old Glasgow forever.”
“It would have been nice if you’d let me know,” Liliana mumbled. “The other one never said boo, either.”
“Maybe not, but she watched over you from a distance. If you’d needed me, I’d have been informed right away. I checked in on the two of you while I was here. All appeared well. You were doing fine without me. Kat thought I was dead. She also had no idea she was a witch.” Gloria shrugged. “None of this is especially relevant to our discussion.”
Sean turned his hands palms up, holding them in front of him like a balance point. “Unless we secure help from someone extraordinarily powerful, which is unlikely—”
“Like whom?” Arlen broke in.
“Oh, a god or goddess or someone like that,” Sean replied.
“They’ve never bothered themselves with our battles,” Arlen said crisply.
“Which is why I labeled it unlikely.” Sean resisted a temptation to tell Arlen to shut up until he was done talking. “What’s needed here is a sneaky, airtight plan. Something that has a high probability of success. Something Rhea won’t recognize as a trap until the jaws have snapped shut.”
Katerina straightened from where she’d been leaning against a wall. “I’ve said this before. I’m the logical bait. Rhea wants me, and she wants me badly enough to venture into our time to snag me. Years ago, she forged a link with me. I can’t feel it, but I’m certain it’s still there.”
“Nay!” Arlen thundered. “I’ll not risk you.”
Katerina placed her hands on her hips. “Fine. You come up with a better proposal. Maybe if Mom and Gran can help me find my own familiar, I’ll be stronger. Sufficiently resourceful to at least maintain Rhea in a holding pattern until the rest of you can capture her.”
“We could try to lure a familiar.” Gloria spoke thoughtfully. “Not normally how it’s done, but—"
“I said nay,” Arlen reiterated, but he wasn’t shouting this time.
“If all fifteen of us travel backward in time,” Sean said, “’twill create one hell of a psychic disturbance. Even the greenest magical neophyte would take notice of our arrival. That was one part of our plan that always bothered me. How we’d escape notice long enough
to establish ourselves.”
“Aye,” Morgan broke in. “We canna turn around on tuppence. We have to show up, locate our doppelgangers, send them elsewhere…” She shrugged. “’Twon’t happen quickly.”
“And now that we know Rhea is on the lookout for us—or at least for Sean,” Liliana added, “she’ll be on us in a trice the second we break through anywhere near her time, wearing the same shit-eating grin she was sporting earlier.”
Sean made a sour face. He’d noticed Rhea’s expression—a cross between a starving piranha and a cagey hyena on the prowl. She’d looked at him as if he were a tasty treat, and he hadn’t liked it much. If he hadn’t been fighting for his life, her demeanor would have creeped him out.
Kat walked to Arlen and placed a hand on his arm. “The whole reason we got married was to give both of us protections from my kinfolk.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” he said gruffly. “’Tis hard to quantify such things. The marriage bonds are a hedge, but will they be enough? We’ve done a whole lot to anger Rhea. She’s furious, and she’s tapping into something to make her stronger than—”
“Because she feels cheated.” Kat cut in without letting him finish. “If I were in her position, I’d be embittered too. In her world, being a Roskelly witch is the highest honor imaginable. To have first Gran and then Mom spit in her face must have infuriated her. And then, when she made a play for me, the child she groomed from infancy to love her, and I told her to go fuck herself…”
Kat shook her head. “If she weren’t such a self-serving bitch, I’d feel sorry for her.”
Liliana crossed to where Kat stood and hugged her. When she let go, she said, “I believe you’re onto something.”
“How so?” Kat asked.
“One of the first lessons in working with anyone is putting yourself in their place, understanding their mindset.” Liliana paused to take a measured breath. “Everyone has a weak spot. Rhea’s could be our rejection. If she’s still raw and wounded, she just might believe you if you call her with magic and tell her you’ve had a change of heart.”
