by Diana Duncan
His jaw tensed. Moments of thick silence crept past. Then he sighed. “Deep down, I suppose I’ve already reconciled myself to the same realization. When you really want something, you take no prisoners.”
“Then you agree. We— we’re not meant to be.”
“I’d say you have as much time as you need. I’ll wait as long as it takes, do whatever it takes, to make it up to you.” Sorrow flickered before he shuttered his expression. “But you won’t change your mind, will you?”
“No,” she said softly. “I do still love you. But…I’m afraid…not the same way you love me. Not the way you want me to. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, babe. I’m the one who trashed the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Don’t blame yourself. If the case hadn’t derailed us, something else would’ve. I honestly believe that, Zack.”
He shoved his hands into his front pockets. His Adam’s apple worked. “We were good together. I’d still like to be friends. If you can.”
“I’d like that. Good friends are rare treasures.” She carefully set the ring beside her untouched coffee. “I should go.”
“You don’t have to. Stay and drink your coffee.”
“I think it’s better if I leave now. I’ll be in touch.”
He inhaled a wobbly breath. “If you need anything, anytime, don’t hesitate.”
“You, too.” Leaving him standing there alone, knowing she’d wounded him, was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. In spite of the fact it was the right thing. For them both. She walked out, closing the door—and the past—firmly behind her.
Inside the car, she rested her forehead on the steering wheel. Sadness. Relief. It was over.
So why didn’t she feel like she was done?
She drove to Vanessa’s condo through the morning downpour, spooked by niggling déjà vu over seeking Van’s solace about a man. Last time had been nearly a year ago when Zack deserted her. Hadn’t it?
She leaned on the bell for at least five minutes before Van wrenched open the door, wearing a burgundy velvet robe and a crabby face. “The friggin’ building better be on fire.” When her best friend saw Delaney, she winced. “Crap, sorry, Lanie. Come in. What’s happened? Please say it’s not Connor!”
She sighed. “I just ended it with Zack. Permanently.”
“Oh, no, sweetie.” Van swept her into a hug. “Are you all right?”
“It felt harsh, even though he left me first. Even though I know he’s not The One.”
“Yeah, when a toad stomps all over your heart, it’s impossible to ever trust him again.”
Delaney paced to the window, twitched aside the curtain to stare at puddled asphalt and dripping evergreens. “Zack’s a decent guy, Van, and you know it. Just… While I appreciated his patience with my lack of physical response, if there was real passion between us, wouldn’t he have wanted more? I don’t doubt his affection, but I don’t think he realizes our love isn’t the forever kind. That primal attraction is missing between us.”
“Preaching to the choir, sister. And knowing you, once you find Mr. Primal Passion, you’ll barrel into Hell and wrestle Satan himself for the lucky hunk.” She finger-combed her disheveled hair. “Hang tight while I throw on some clothes, then we’ll hit the diner. Today’s definitely an ice-cream-breakfast occasion.”
Again with the creepy déjà vu. Delaney frowned out the window. The glistening emerald of dewed pine trees beckoned her. Brought to mind warm, shimmering green…energy? She shivered. “Uh…sure.”
She couldn’t stand still while she waited. Tormented by mounting apprehension, she paced, as restless as the ocean before a storm.
Van emerged from her bedroom in less than ten minutes, enviably put together in teal cashmere and brown tweed. “All set for a rocky-road run.”
* * *
Delaney shifted in the booth of the cozy twenty-four hour diner, breathing in the alluring fragrance of coffee. The red leather seats made her think about her boots. Which inexplicably made her mouth dry and her palms sweat.
The smiling, motherly-looking server set down two loaded triple sundaes. “Breakfast, ladies.”
Delaney picked up her spoon. Dipped it into dark chocolate ice cream smothered in marshmallow topping. Melted marshmallows. Sweet…tender…
Her belly clenched. Her spoon clattered onto the Formica. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”
“I’ve never seen you refuse ice cream.” Van’s impeccable brows creased. “What’s the matter? Are you sick?”
“No.” Whatever this was, it wasn’t a physical illness. Her soul was hurting. She wobbled to her feet. “I’ve got to go.”
“Go where, sweetie?”
“I don’t know. I just need to keep searching.”
Van tossed bills onto the table, then walked to Delaney’s side. Slid an arm around her waist. “Wherever you’re headed, I’m in.”
“Van, I appreciate all your support and advice and especially getting up at the ass-crack of dawn for consolation duty.”
“Why do I feel a big ‘but’ coming on, and not only from the sundaes?”
“You know I love you, right? You mean the world to me, and you always will, no matter what happens.” Delaney bit the inside of her cheek, clamped down rising sorrow. “I’m really sorry, but whatever it is…I need to do it alone.”
Van gulped. “That sounds an awful lot like goodbye. Lanie, you’re scaring me.”
She was scaring herself. “I feel horrendous about leaving you after waking you up and dragging you here. But Van, I have to.”
“Promise me you won’t do anything…remotely crazy. At least not without me. Promise.”
“I’ll do my utmost to avoid a trip to Crazytown,” she lied. She’d never lied to her best friend. Had she?
Yet Delaney couldn’t keep that promise.
She had no idea what she was about to do.
Vanessa’s arm tightened around Delaney before she released her. “No problem, I’ll grab a cab home. Call me later, as soon as you can. I’ll worry until I hear back.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” she repeated helplessly.
Delaney sprinted outside. She got into her GTO, started it up. The wipers click-clacked across the wet windshield. Where to? She glanced at the puncture wound on her palm.
She still had unfinished business.
Bono’s soulful lyrics looped through her playlist again. Delaney rubbed damp, stinging eyes. She’d been relatively normal—for her—yesterday. Hadn’t she?
Maybe if she backtracked, retraced her steps. The need to return to the site of her birthday party pulled at her as insistently as a riptide.
She put the car into gear and surrendered to compulsion.
Forty minutes later, Delaney stepped out of the GTO and into the deserted park. Shoulders hunched against the rain, she followed the muddy path, turned left at the fork toward the lake. She walked onto the rolling boat dock and stared at pewter whitecaps.
A haunting flash of quicksilver eyes sent a wave of longing crashing over her.
She needed to be somewhere. Help someone.
She trembled with the effort to remember, but saw nothing except swirling gray mist.
Delaney stood searching the water for what seemed like an eternity, aching for an answer that refused to come.
Then the eerie sensation of being watched prickled her scalp. She spun. At the end of the boat dock, the sodden dirt track diverged in opposite directions. One led back to her car. The second into the dark forest.
An enormous raven perched on the path leading to the woods, brilliant black eyes intent on her. It cawed once, then fell silent.
Shivers skated up her spine. In that quiet moment, understanding blazed. She could go to her car and drive away to a lifetime of solitude where she’d be alone, but content. Or she could follow the raven into a world of unending battle…where blood would drip from her hands far beyond the shallow cut that stung her palm. Where she’d face pain and sacrific
e.
She’d been summoned to a purpose surpassing human comprehension.
Answer the call.
Or not.
Her choice.
Delaney stood trembling on the rolling wooden boards while the raven waited. She’d never run from a challenge. Yet deep within, the knowledge burned that if she chose the unknown road, the gift of peace she’d been offered was gone forever.
She looked at the raven, then at her car.
Decision made, she strode off the dock…and into the forest.
Eventually, she’d face Death, and her life would pass before her eyes. Dammit, she’d ensure the show was worth watching.
She stopped in front of the unmoving bird. A shiny silver chain dangled from its beak. Delaney squatted, held out her hand. The raven dropped a necklace into her palm, then ruffled ebony wings and soared silently into the storm.
She stood and examined the charm. A lovely, intricate Celtic design graced with four garnets…and stained with blood. Blood that called to hers. Her fingers instinctively closed around the amulet. The blood seared the cut in her palm, mingled with her own—scalding up her arm and into her chest.
Memories flooded in like a movie on fast-forward. She swayed as sights, sounds, sensations assaulted her. Finding a naked stranger on the beach. A man who was not a man at all. Ashes and pain. Demons and death. Swords and Magic and wild lovemaking.
Love. And betrayal.
Rowan.
He’d made sweet, tender love to her last night. She’d seen unspoken love in his eyes. Felt it in his touch. She’d loved him in return, given him her trust. Given him her body, heart, and soul.
Then he’d stolen her memory. And with it, her Powers.
He’d warned her. Everyone had warned her. But she hadn’t wanted to believe Rowan was as traitorous as all the rest.
Anguish drove her to her knees in the mud. “Why?” she shouted. “I gave you everything!”
The answer was horribly clear. He truly cared, but not enough to consider her his equal. Didn’t trust her to be his partner. Had left to protect the helpless, weak little wench.
He’d pulled the same high-handed macho crap as her brother and her former fiancé.
And because of it, he was risking himself. He’d trained her to fight, then refused her the chance to cover his back.
Tears tracked down her cheeks. Was everything she’d believed about him, about the love and partnership and trust she’d thought they’d shared, an illusion?
Rage ate through her, devoured the hurt. As she knelt wallowing uselessly in mud and misery, he was charging into battle. Without her. As were the rest of her vastly outnumbered friends, all who faced formidable odds.
Well, screw that.
Anger was an easier burden than heartbreak. Delaney viciously swiped off her face. Shoved to her feet. She’d show the arrogant Mage exactly what Delaney Morgan was made of.
Her hands steadied as she fastened the chain around her throat. She wasn’t foolish enough to think she’d be an asset in battle without her Powers. But if there were any way to regain them, one person would know. She sprinted to the car. Gunning the engine, she sped in the direction of Sage O’Farrell’s cabin.
Halfway there, her cell phone chimed. She glanced at the screen. Zack, already? She let the call go to voicemail. Sorry, Detective Walker. Too much feces on the fan right now.
A text notification beeped seconds later. “I’m suddenly popular.” She pulled over to the shoulder, thumbed the button. Zack again. The message read, “Call me. 911.”
Pulse tripping, she dialed. He answered on the first ring. “Lanie! I’m at the hospital.” She heard the tears in his voice. “Get here immediately!”
“Connor?” she whispered. “Oh, no!”
“Wait, it’s not… Lanie, Connor’s awake!”
“He— he’s—” Awake? “Is he…” She started to tremble. Samhain sacrifices would be starting soon. “Is he screaming?”
“No. He’s weak, but I think…I think he’s gonna be okay. He’s asking for you.”
“He’s lucid?” She closed her eyes. “Talking? Tell him to hang on, I’ll be there as fast as I can!”
Tires spitting mud, she whipped the GTO into a u-turn. Her thoughts raced faster than the roaring engine. Was it possible…? Had Rowan managed to awaken Connor as “compensation” for hijacking her Powers? Did he think that would justify walking out on her?
Her knuckles whitened on the wheel. After she saw her brother, she was going to go help Rowan, dammit. Whether he liked it or not. Then she would kick his chauvinistic arse.
* * *
Delaney dashed past the hospital’s reception area to the elevators. Slammed the “up” buttons. “C’mon.” She paced in front of the closed doors. “Move, already!”
“Miss,” the gray-haired guy manning the reception desk called out. “That bank of elevators has been glitchy all morning. Go down the corridor to your left, hang another left, and follow the blue arrows to the east wing elevators. When you reach your floor, take the second corridor to your right and cross the sky bridge. Follow the red arrows back to this wing.”
“Ah…” She shook her head. “Thanks. I’ll just hit the stairs.”
She pushed open the stairwell doorway, jogged three flights. Panting, she rounded the landing. Stopped short.
Zack lay crumpled on the linoleum, eyes closed, an ugly black and blue knot welling near his temple.
Her hand flew to her throat. “Zack?” She bent over the unconscious man, relieved when she saw his chest rising and falling with slow breaths. Her relief died as the locks on every door on every landing simultaneously snapped shut.
Cold revulsion slithered along her skin, raising goosebumps. She knew who she’d see behind her, even before she turned around.
Her stepfather looked exactly like had when haunting her dreams. Suave and composed, not a styled gray-blond hair out of place. A slimy, dangerous reptile in a perfectly-tailored charcoal designer suit and scarlet tie.
“Hello, Stanton,” she said, sounding remarkably calm in spite of her heart trying to punch out of her ribcage.
“Delaney. At last.”
“Connor’s not really awake, is he?” She stepped between him and Zack. “It was just another lie. You disabled the elevators, knowing I’d choose the stairs rather than the long way around.”
“Zack, I need to see you at the hospital,” the monster of her nightmares mocked in a perfect imitation of her own voice. “Lanie,” he switched to Zack’s voice. “Connor’s awake!” His upper lip curled. “Ceard has shared her Gift of deception with me.”
“‘Ho gets around.”
He leaned closer. His nostrils flared, scenting her. “So do you, apparently.”
She held her ground, protecting Zack while her stepfather’s hands invaded her aura. Frigid rage emanated from him. “The Mage has accomplished what your brother prevented me from doing. He’s stolen my prize.”
She suppressed a shudder. “You knew about my Powers?”
“Even at the tender age of thirteen, your Powers were unprecedented.” His gaze crawled over her. “Your sexual awakening has brought them into full fruition. Blood and sex are potent forces in Magic, Delaney. Especially when combined. I suspect you’ve reached that conclusion by now.”
“What are you, you twisted bastard?”
“I’m a Sorcerer, one of the most powerful in the world. MacLachlan made a fatal error in judgment when he betrayed you. I won’t plunder your Gifts and abandon you. We’ll share them. Together, we’ll be unstoppable.”
“Too little, too late. Seeing as how I no longer possess any special abilities.”
“Ceard will find a way. And if it involves physical…contact…I won’t be averse to tutoring you. I’ve waited a long time for the opportunity to show you your full potential.” His smile was a slash of evil. “I got cheated out of being your first. But there are other ways to establish blood ties."
She swallowed rising bile. “
I’ll slit my own throat first.”
“The filthy Mage tainted your perspective. He treated you like a common whore, used you and tossed you aside. He screwed you over—” He sneered. “In so many, probably very inventive, ways.”
Deception was their opponents’ game. Lies their weapons. She didn’t understand Rowan’s choice to leave her behind. But he wasn’t her enemy.
“You sick fuck!” she spat. “I grew up feeling as dirty as a piece of garbage. Secretly wondering what was so warped inside of me that I’d attract a monster. Wary of letting any man get too close, in case it was me who was wrong.” She firmed her chin when it wanted to quiver. “But thanks to the Mage, I know you’re bent. You’re the filth.”
Graves sighed. “My deluded little daughter. You’ll come with me now. Learn the truth. Learn what you are.”
“I’m not your daughter. And I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“I can make you, you know.” He offered his hand. “However, I’d rather you come willingly.”
She raked him with a scornful glance. “I’m no longer a helpless little girl. And I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
“I see that. You’ve grown into quite a woman.” His avid gaze slinked over her a second time. “Perhaps I’ll have you here and now. Take a quick test drive.” He body-slammed her against the wall, grabbed her by the hair.
She rammed her knee upward toward his crotch, but before it even made contact, he screamed and flinched away. As he shook his blistered hand, the stink of scalded flesh permeated the air.
“Shit! MacLachlan cast a defensive spell on you!” He muttered an incantation, then tentatively reached out to touch a curl. Furious steam hissed, and he jerked back a reddened fingertip.
Rowan had shielded her from Supernatural harm before he’d stolen her Powers and left her? Thanks for playing, Delaney, here’s your consolation prize. “Gee, you can’t breach it? Once again proving Rowan is twice the man—or Mage—you’ll ever be.”
“Clever, but not insurmountable.” He reached inside his suit jacket and withdrew a gun—Zack’s service pistol. “MacLachlan’s shield protects you. I can however…” He waved the pistol at Zack. “Shoot him.” His eyes narrowed. “You will go with me. Or the detective dies.”
