by Michele Hauf
And he felt something great rise within him—all the power he needed to defeat any witch or werewolf who should dare to challenge him.
Chapter 23
“The witch must die.”
Eryss chirped out a sound when she heard Dane say that. He stood before the door, dagger held at the ready. His eyes were white. He was captured by the wicked enchantment that had been infused into the dagger so many centuries earlier.
A slash of steel cut the air as Malakai grabbed a sword from an iron hook on the shed wall and approached Dane. A firm hand at Eryss’s back reminded her she was not alone.
“Let me get you out of here,” Trouble said. “Leave this to them.”
“Why isn’t the enchantment protection working? He’ll kill him.”
“Who? Your witch hunter or my dad? My dad isn’t going to take any man’s life. And he sure as hell isn’t going to sacrifice his own today. Come on. You’re not safe in here. And your presence might even be what’s riling that bastard up.”
As the blades clashed together in a dull tang, Eryss allowed Trouble to pull her out through a back door and into the cool winter air. He tugged her toward the house. Much as she pined to stay and to know every move Dane made—and avoided—she relented. Trouble might be right. Her presence could aggravate the enchantment.
* * *
Dane matched the werewolf move for move. Backed around the forge and against a wall, he managed an overhead strike, bringing down the dagger and hitting the powerful beast on the shoulder with the hilt. Malakai growled and spun, returning with an attack, but Dane dodged him and dashed to the center of the shed.
“I can go at this all day, hunter,” Malakai said. “I’m not going to take your life. And I know you have not the strength or fortitude to take mine. You ever kill a man? Or is it only helpless witches you go after?”
Charging with a battle cry that roughened the inside of his throat, Dane swung his blade close to the man’s neck. The wolf merely smirked and gestured with his fingers for him to come at him again.
“It’s only the witch I have a problem with,” he said. “She killed my father. I will not rest until she burns.”
Malakai clanked his sword against Dane’s. Once. Twice. There was a slide of steel against iron, and the twosome spun away from one another, reassessing their positions.
“Yes, burning will kill a witch,” Malakai offered, “but I think you’re going about it the wrong way, buddy. No fire to your arsenal?”
“I must subdue her first.”
“A blade to the heart will do more than subdue. You don’t want to harm Eryss.” The wolf backed Dane up until his spine hit the wall. Sword blades kissed. The man’s dark eyes narrowed at him. “I can feel the dark magic humming off the blade and coming from you, as well.”
With a quick flick, the wolf managed to snatch the dagger from Dane’s hand. The blade soared over their heads and landed in the cold forge in the center of the room. Dane stepped forward, right into the meaty fist that connected up under his ribs, pummeling his kidney. Hissing out his breath, Dane could not fight the wicked pain that doubled him over and brought him to his knees. He fell forward, landing on his palms.
The wolf gripped his hair and pulled up his head. “I’m going to melt that blade down and end this right now.”
“No!”
A renewed burst of energy flipped Dane to his back on the dirt floor. He jammed a foot between the wolf’s legs and toppled the mighty beast. Rising onto his knees, Dane pulled back his arm, making a fist.
* * *
The air surrounding her in the open-floor-plan cabin felt cool and spring-like, scented with lilacs and clover. Arms spread wide, Eryss stood with her eyes closed and fingertips outspread. She wasn’t drawing in a protection about her, but rather, spreading out her energy in a healing burst that she hoped would penetrate the walls of this home and reach into the shed, where she couldn’t imagine what Dane was doing.
Technically, she could imagine. She just didn’t want to go there.
When she spied the frost on the windows high in the V of the cathedral-style structure that looked over the backyard, she called on an elemental to do the spying for her. The frost danced into a shape of a large snowflake and fluttered away from the window, toward the shed.
“What are you doing?”
She turned to Trouble, reining her energy and exhaling. “Nothing wicked, if that’s what you’re wondering. They’ve been in there a long time. I want to see what’s happening.”
“My dad won’t hurt him.”
“But Dane is enchanted. He’s not in his right mind. He could hurt your dad.”
Trouble scoffed and gestured to the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”
“No. I want to be out there.”
“They’ve stopped poking their swords at one another.”
“How do you know that?”
Trouble tapped an earlobe. “I can hear pretty damn good. Now they’ve taken up fists.” He bounced on his feet like a prizefighter, throwing a punch before him.
Eryss ran her fingers through her hair. Her nerves went on attack. Was Dane a fighter? He was a scientist. Yet he did work for an agency that put him in encounters with paranormal beings. But that didn’t mean he was a skilled fighter. Shit. Malakai would tear him apart.
She rushed for the door.
Trouble arrived there first, so she slammed into his chest. He held her by her upper arms. The wolf put out a sensual musk that would have had her purring at his feet were she not aware of his propensity to use that attraction for less than sincere motives.
“They’re almost finished,” he said. “Just let this happen. Maybe if he gets the shit kicked out of him, the hunter will retreat for good.”
“But such violence is not what Dane wants. It’s the enchantment—”
The shed door opened with a squeak, and out staggered a man, blood streaming down his cheek.
“Let me go!” Eryss shoved Trouble aside and rushed outside to Dane. He saw her coming and put up a hand to halt her. She respected his need for space and stopped, but twisted her hands together impatiently. “Are you okay?”
His cheeks were spattered with blood. His lower lip bled. He nodded slightly. Back off was the silent message he gave, and Eryss did so. He’d taken a wallop from Malakai, who now stood in the open doorway. The wolf was equally bloodied and bruised, which gave Eryss some small thrill. Her man had stood his own against a werewolf, one of the strongest of all creatures who walked this mortal realm.
“Sorry,” Dane said quietly, then strode off down the path they’d followed when they’d first arrived.
Eryss took two steps to go after him until she saw Malakai shake his head. She turned to the werewolf in the doorway, who had one elbow propped high against the frame. He spat blood out onto the snow.
“He’s a tough one,” Malakai said. “But that dagger needs to go.”
“I agree. Where is it?”
“In the forge. I’m going to fire it up and melt the thing down.”
Why she hadn’t thought of that surprised her now. “That sounds like the perfect solution to this problem. Thank you, Kai. And, uh, thanks for not hurting him too much.”
“He’ll be sore for days. As will I.” He pressed a palm to his bruised ribs. “Take him home and do some witchy healing on him. The man doesn’t want to hurt you. And he won’t, as long as the dagger is destroyed. I’ll give you a call when it’s done.” He stepped out of the shed and wandered toward the house.
Taking that as her dismissal, Eryss ran around the side of the house. She found Dane leaning against the car, with no coat or gloves on, and his shirt torn to reveal bloodied bruises on his skin. He didn’t meet her gaze, but hissed when she touched his jaw.
“Sorry. I have some healing potions at home. Will you let me make this better?”
He nodded, and silently turned to get in the car.
Her hero had been taken down a few notches, and he was handling it the b
est he could. Yet he had proved his skill against one who should have been much stronger than him.
And how? Because the dagger had controlled him? Or because he had been fighting for her?
Chapter 24
Dane’s cell phone rang as Eryss pulled the car into her garage. She looked to him, and he indicated he’d be in after he took the call. He waited to answer until she got out of the car. It was Tor.
“How’s it going, Winthur? You get your hands on that dagger yet? I thought I’d have a report on it by now.”
“Yes, well, it was never a job, if you recall.”
“Right. But you had intended to send a report on your findings.”
“Didn’t you get my text?”
“No. What’s up? Is it dangerous? Or just an antique?”
“It’s...” He winced at the pain in his ribs. That kidney punch had literally taken his sight for a few seconds. He’d never felt anything so painful. “Out of my hands at the moment. I’m having trouble with it.”
“You need backup? What’s the issue?”
“It’s enchanted.”
“Got it. I can send in a disenchanter. Can probably get someone there in two days. Maybe faster if I can locate one in the area.”
In two days Eryss would turn thirty. And if her visions were correct, she never made it to her thirtieth birthday. Ever.
“That might be necessary. A werewolf has it right now and he’s...” Hell, he’d completely forgotten the wolf’s intention to melt the dagger down. “I gotta go. I need to check on something. Do send the disenchanter. As quickly as possible.”
He clicked off and twisted to get out of the car, growling at the pain that sputtered fire within him. The cold didn’t even bother him, for every muscle burned. He forced himself to rush out of the garage and into Eryss’s home. The kitchen greeted him with a warm aroma of sweet spices and lingering scents of savory foods.
“Eryss!”
“In the conservatory!”
“I need Saint-Pierre’s number,” he said as he entered the lush green room. Instinctually, he kicked off his shoes and almost groaned in delight as the grass caressed his soles. “I have to stop him. The werewolf is going to melt down the dagger.”
“Yes.” Eryss stood near a basket of what looked like crystals, herbs and candles. She gestured for him to sit on the couch, but Dane did not. “It’s what’s best, yes? With the dagger gone, then the enchantment will no longer have control over you.”
“But it was mine. My father—the man who fathered me in this lifetime, a man I never got to know—once owned that dagger. Eryss, don’t you understand?”
“I do understand. And it’s not fair to you, but—” She sighed. “Fine. Call him. Do whatever you want. I thought you said you’d never harm me.” She stomped out of the conservatory. “I’ll get his number.”
Dane sat on the couch and bent over, catching his face in his palms.
She was right. No matter how much he thought the dagger meant to him, it would never be right. It would always demand something of him he wasn’t willing to fulfill. He was not a murderer. And he would prove that by ensuring that in this lifetime, both of them survived beyond their thirtieth birthday.
“You got your phone?” Eryss returned with an address book. “I’ll give you the number.”
“No.” He could hear waning trust in her voice, and hated himself for his cruelties to her. “Let him destroy it. It’s what’s best.”
She knelt on the grass before him, and Dane dared to dip his head and nuzzle his nose against her hair. The soft sweetness of her pulled tears from his eyes. “I’ve learned all I can about Edison Winthur. The dagger was not a connection between the two of us. But it was a weird way of connecting us. Maybe it was my father who brought us together in this lifetime?”
She reached up and stroked the back of his head. “That sounds lovely. Let’s leave it at that then? It would be a great way to honor him.”
“Thank you for always being so understanding.”
She pressed a finger over his lips. “I suspect another apology coming on, and I won’t hear it. We’re good. Lie down,” she said softly. “Let me take the pain from you.”
“Why? Shouldn’t I have to suffer this pain in recompense for the pain I’ve caused you? I can’t believe what’s become of me.”
“It’s going to end today,” she reassured him.
Then she tilted up his face and kissed his eyelid. Even that hurt, but he didn’t say so. With all they had been through in so little time, she’d never stopped believing in him and wanting to comfort him.
“I don’t deserve your kindness,” he said.
“Stop being the martyr. Of course you do. I love you, Dane.”
He lifted his head and met her gaze. It was calm and true. She’d spoken a truth from her heart, and it didn’t surprise him. But he couldn’t say it in return because he didn’t know if he did love her. He should. But a man who loved a woman would never raise a weapon against her.
“Lie down,” she said again. “Let me work some healing magic on you.”
He relented and lay back. And she went about lighting candles and placing crystals on his chakras, and then chanting words he didn’t know the meanings of, but yet could feel their power as the pain began to lift and his muscles relaxed, sinking him into a deep sleep.
* * *
Malakai stood over the flames flickering in the forge. It had been burning for two hours, and he was satisfied it had reached a temperature that could melt cold iron.
Trouble had wandered in with a bottle of water for him, and he drank it down in two swallows.
“You going to melt the witch hunter’s blade?” Trouble asked.
“Only way to stop the enchantment. Hand it to me, will you?”
Trouble wandered about the shed, looking for the dagger.
“I set it over there.” Kai turned to the wall where he’d propped the dagger before starting the flames. “Where’d it go? You pick it up?”
“I haven’t touched that thing since I brought it to you. You sure it’s not mixed in with some of those?” His son pointed to a conglomeration of swords stacked in the corner that Kai had either given up on during the forging process or that he wanted to give a second go to.
He rushed over and sorted through the misfit swords, but none were the witch hunter’s blade. How could he have misplaced the thing? He had left the shed only to go wash up after the fight and had taken a phone call from Rissa, his wife, and when he’d returned, the dagger had been lying where he’d last seen it, in the forge. He’d taken it out and propped it against the wall. And now...
“Curse the moon. It’s gone.”
* * *
Alexandra observed her new husband’s father from afar. She’d been suspicious of him over the past months. She knew that Ivor practiced witchcraft, but only in healing and to bring him closer to the elements of nature that then helped him to hunt efficiently. It was a craft he’d learned from his father. Yet the father had about him a dark aura.
And now she shivered as her suspicions came to fruition. The father stood before an inverted star made of rowan branches, and wore only his calfskin breeches. His upper body was streaked with fresh raven’s blood. He chanted to what Alexandra could only guess were demons.
And when he whispered the promise to bring his son to the altar as sacrifice, Alexandra turned and ran swiftly into the barren, snow-littered oat field toward home. She clasped a hand over the crystal dagger she always carried over her sternum and tucked in her stays. A gift from a village healer. Alexandra was not a witch, but she did believe in the power of healing.
As the cabin she and Ivor lived in loomed closer, she could hear the huffing breaths gaining on her from behind. He’d followed her! And when her toe caught in her skirts and she tumbled forward, Alexandra pulled out the dagger. Her shoulder hit the snow and she rolled, prepared to defend herself from the menacing evil that pounced.
* * *
Eryss cried o
ut, “He was going to sacrifice you!”
Her voice startled Dane, who’d fallen into a snooze on the couch. Eryss still held her hands over his stomach; she’d been sending her earth energy into him for healing, hoping to connect with the ancient origin of his soul. And she had.
She tugged her fingers away, waiting for him to rise from the reverie. What she’d seen when she’d been in that trance answered so many questions!
“Did I fall asleep?” Dane smoothed a palm over his stomach. “I feel...still achy, but actually...” He sat up and touched his jaw, then tested his shoulder where he must have taken a fist from Malakai Saint-Pierre. “No more pain. And I thought my lip would be swollen for sure. Wow. Thanks.”
He leaned in to kiss her, but Eryss put a finger over his lips. He pouted. “Right. I suppose I don’t deserve a kiss from you.”
“You do.” She kissed him quickly. “But you need to hear the real news. I went into a trance to heal you, and our souls connected again.”
“Did you see us in another life? I heard you call out. What did you say?”
“I did trance out as Alexandra again. Our beginning is the key to our present. I was by myself, wandering through the woods, and I came upon your father. Actually, I think I was following him. And remember you said you’d dreamed something about a sacrifice but didn’t know what that meant?”
“Yes. Go on.” She watched him tighten a fist on his lap.
“Your father was a dark witch, Dane.”
Dane reared back from her, but since she knelt before his legs, he didn’t get up and walk away—though she sensed he wanted to do just that.
“And believe it or not,” she stated, “you were also a witch.”
“Ridiculous.”
“But true. But you weren’t dark like your father. I know that you only used the craft for good. You were going to teach me your ways.”
“Eryss—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Just listen. I saw your father performing an incantation. And he promised some malefic force he would make the ultimate sacrifice to gain power. I think your father was the first witch hunter.”
