There was a soft, sultry chuckle. “Oh, you’re very cute. Very, very. I can see why the tall blond man is so enchanted by you.”
“Eamon?” Autumn’s insides tightened, her instincts once again warning her. “Where is he? Tell me where he is.”
“Oh, he’s safe,” the voice cooed. “Safe and sound. Unlike you. See, we’re interested in him—he’s useful to us. You are just a nuisance who stumbled upon something you should never, ever, ever have seen. And now we have to deal with you.”
“Why haven’t you then?” Autumn challenged, though perhaps she was taking a dangerous tactic. “If you want me dead, then why haven’t you killed me?”
“There’s a sequence.”
Autumn stared into the core at the center of the light beams around her, glaring at it the way she would glare at the person’s face if she could see her. “A sequence? Bullshit. I think you’re just trying to scare me, and it won’t work.”
“I bet I could scare Rachel and Anna.”
A cold rush of ice water flowed through Autumn, and she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from screaming curses at the unseen woman. “Your problem is with me. Not them. You targeted my daughter once. It would be very unwise to do it again. Come after me all you want, but leave them out of this if you have any honor at all.”
“We live by honor,” the voice said. “That’s why there’s a sequence. What is once initiated always, always comes back around eventually. That’s the way of the world.”
With that eerie message, the light suddenly disappeared, and left in its place was something far more fearsome than the glow that had almost blinded her. A wolf stood in the center of her room, teeth bared and snarling at her. Its fur stood on end, and its eyes glowed with intent, and Autumn felt her heart lurch into her throat, her fear absolutely undeniable now.
She was already pressed up against the door, with nowhere to retreat, and the wolf stood between her and the door to the room where the girls slept, blissfully unaware of the danger all around them. Autumn gasped, as the wolf growled and snapped its jaws, and the scream that ripped from her as it leapt toward her was utterly instinctive.
The wolf’s fur brushed against her skin, its hot breath wafted over her throat, and the weight of its body pinned her to the door. Her life flashed before her eyes, and she held her breath, waiting for the moment when sharp, gleaming teeth would sink into the flesh at her throat and rip that life from her.
“Mommy!”
It was Anna’s voice that rang out, bringing out Autumn’s motherly instincts even as she stood in the grips of certain death. Autumn didn’t know where her daughter was—if she was still in the other room and just calling out, or if she was standing there, watching her mother be attacked—but it didn’t matter. It was her daughter’s panicked voice, and it initiated a reaction in Autumn that was unstoppable.
Pointed teeth dug into the nape of her neck, and Autumn lifted one hand, pressing it against the wolf’s throat and digging her own strong fingers into the flesh there. Her other hand lifted, also wrapping around the wolf’s throat, and she struggled with the beast, her strength just enough to keep the wolf from being able to fully sink its teeth into her. Blood still poured down her shirt as the teeth scraped at her throat, but she held the wolf off, then closed her eyes, pictured her daughters’ faces, and drew on all the strength she had to throw the raging beast backward.
It tumbled onto the floor but immediately snarled and righted itself, beginning to charge her again.
But Autumn was ready. Grabbing the fire poker that stood nearby, waiting to be used to create a warm glow in the room on a cold winter night, she wielded it, shoving it straight through the wolf’s open mouth as it lunged at her and sinking the iron deep into the animal’s belly.
She was shaking as she held the poker there, red eyes glaring at her for the briefest of moments before going lifeless. The wolf sagged on the poker, becoming too heavy for Autumn to hold, and she let both clatter to the floor.
But before the wolf reached the floor, its corpse was gone and the poker landed amongst a collection of dust that looked innocuous enough to have collected naturally over time, due to neglect. There was no sign of the attack that had just happened, other than the poker lying there, the rapid beat of her heart, and the blood that was soaking the shoulder of her shirt.
Autumn didn’t pause to contemplate what had happened to the wolf though, her gaze immediately going toward the door between the two rooms, expecting to see Anna standing there, horrified. But the door was closed, and Autumn stumbled toward it, realizing that her daughter must be standing on the other side, hearing the commotion and not knowing how to reach her mother.
She flung open the door, ready to comfort the small girl, but when she did, the room was dark and still and her two daughters were lying in bed, fast asleep, holding hands, and looking as peaceful as the day they were born.
Sagging against the doorjamb, Autumn covered her mouth to stifle the cry that was both relief and horror. She had almost just died at the hand of some unknown power, and it had been her daughter’s voice that gave her the strength to overcome it.
How Anna had called to her, Autumn didn’t know, but she had never loved her daughter more than she did right then and there, and she fell to her knees beside the bed and buried her head in the covers as she slowly allowed herself to relax, willed her adrenaline to ease, and allowed herself to believe that, for the moment, the danger had passed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Eamon
Just as had happened in the forest, when Eamon had stepped through the forcefield that had hidden the contents of the clearing from his view, Eamon walked into a world that was tinted with a faint blue, making everything seem as though it was underwater. There were no animals milling about this time. Instead, curvaceous carved pieces of furniture, upholstered with large floral prints, dotted the room—benches, armchairs, couches, settees, ottomans. There was enough seating for perhaps twenty people in the large living space, though nobody besides Eamon and Nova were currently there. Large windows allowed light into the room, the beams broken only by wispy white curtains that fluttered even though the windows were closed, allowing none of the natural breeze inside. The carpets were thick and plush, bordering on shag, and the walls—God. The garishness of the combination of stripes and large bunches of flowers was almost enough to make Eamon wince.
He took all of this in within seconds of entering the room, and immediately, he was on guard. Hackles raised, he turned on Nova, his eyes narrowed. “You’re with them.”
She smiled at him, her head tilting again. “Hmmm.”
“The witches in the forest,” Eamon pressed. “You’re part of their coven. You’re part of targeting Autumn and her children. Deny it if you can.”
“I wouldn’t want to,” Nova said, taking a seat on one of the flowered ottomans and crossing her long legs. Her simple jeans and blouse had transformed into a long, floral dress that was mostly sheer, revealing a skimpy bodysuit beneath it. A white stiletto dangled from her foot as she lightly bounced her crossed leg. All of it was meant to seduce, but Eamon could only see the evil within her now that they were in her world, on her terms.
“What do you want?” he demanded. “You have some master plan. Why can’t you leave her out of it?”
“Sit down, Eamon.”
“No.”
An intense pressure appeared at the small of his back, propelling him forward. His feet shuffled along with the force, unable to do anything else, but as he stared at Nova, she didn’t appear to move or blink or give any sign that the force was coming from her. When he reached the nearest chair, the pressure moved to his shoulders, and he was shoved backward onto the overstuffed cushion, gritting his teeth as he unwillingly gave into her instructions.
“There,” Nova said, clasping her hands together and resting them on her knee. “That’s better. I think we can be friends, Eamon. I know we can be, if you’ll just cooperate.”
&nbs
p; “We’re not friends.”
“I know what you are,” she said, as though he hadn’t spoken. “And you know what I am. That means that, like it or not, we know each other…intimately.” The word tripped off her tongue and fell slowly into the air, her eyes burning on his as she spoke.
Eamon grimaced. “We don’t. Where is your husband, by the way?”
Laughing, Nova shook her head, blonde waves tumbling around her shoulders. “I have no husband. I’ve never understood why women insist upon tying themselves down to one man forever, particularly if he’s just…ordinary.” A lilt appeared in her tone. “Of course, you’re hardly ordinary.”
“You have a husband.”
“No,” she said again, inspecting her nails idly. “I say that I have a husband. When I am forced to prove it, I bully or enchant or conjure some man who will fill the position for a night or a weekend or whatever span of time I need to pretend to be an adornment on the arm of a powerful man. If people just paid more attention, they would realize that my so-called husband is never the same person, but then I rarely pull that trick amongst the same people more than once, and I always pick a man who looks rather…nondescript.” She looked back at him, smirking. “I could never do that with you. There’s no way that a person who had seen you once could ever forget the sight of that striking face.”
“I’m not going to sleep with you,” Eamon spat at her, furious at the pressure that was keeping him seated in the chair. “This little seduction game—it’s old, tired, and pointless.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “I can be accused of being old, it’s true, but no one has ever called me tired or pointless before.”
“Welcome to a new experience,” Eamon said, vastly enjoying that, trapped though he was, he could still push back against her. “If you don’t have a husband, then why do you come here every year to visit your nonexistent in-laws?”
“The nature,” she said, still clearly perturbed but unable to keep from talking about herself. “Witches thrive on the power that nature gives freely, and what better place is there to recharge and rest than an island brimming with the untapped power of dormant volcanoes, surrounded by the deep vibrations of the ocean, and covered in the refreshing lushness of green foliage?”
He didn’t respond, and she waited until he finally arched an eyebrow. “That was a rhetorical question, wasn’t it?”
“You’re a very difficult man,” Nova mused. “You caught my eye, I must admit, but I’m beginning to wonder if you’re worth the trouble.”
“I’m not.”
She chuckled, reaching a hand up to twirl a piece of hair around her finger. “I’ll decide that for myself, and I haven’t yet.”
“Indecisiveness is not an attractive quality in a woman.”
“But quick wit is very attractive in a man.”
Eamon was more than tired of her games, and he made it clear with the look of utter boredom on his face. “I don’t know if you’re trying to fuck me or kill me, but all I’m interested in is what you can tell me. You wouldn’t have brought me in here if you didn’t want to talk.”
“I might do both,” Nova said, still twirling her hair. “Fuck you, then kill you. I don’t get attached easily. But you’re right—I did want to talk. There’s a sequence that has been initiated, Eamon.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“That sequence cannot be reversed,” Nova continued, as though he hadn’t spoken. “It’s been in progress for more years than you have been alive, Eamon, and now you are a part of it. That can’t be undone. Presumably, that’s what you came here to ask me—for help in disentangling yourself and your…little friend…from this sequence.”
Eamon didn’t beat around the bush. “I want to destroy the blasted sequence.” He wanted to take down the whole of the coven loitering in Boston, threatening innocent citizens, but even he knew that was unlikely now that his best hope for a powerful ally had turned out to be their enemy instead. For all he knew, she was the queen witch and he had walked right into her lair.
Chuckling, Nova shook her head. “That’s impossible. But it’s also impossible for you to remove yourself from the sequence, Eamon. Once you’re in, you’re in. The same goes for your friend—Autumn. What a…sweet name.” Her voice dripped of sarcasm as she paid the false compliment. “She may not have intended to, but she stumbled upon my ladies’ lair in the midst of a very important ritual, and that kind of irresponsibility cannot be allowed. We are at the final stage of our sequences, and frankly, it’s frustrating that she’s inserted herself into it. Now we have to deal with her in addition to finalizing a plan that has been in progress for centuries, and it interferes with our balance of power.”
“Then why not leave her be?” Eamon suggested. “Autumn has no idea what she saw. By the next morning, she had convinced herself that she’d seen nothing at all.”
“Yes,” Nova said, sighing as she traced a pointed nail along the floral pattern on her ottoman. “My ladies made a mistake, reacting so violently at first. Had they consulted me first, I would have told them merely to watch her for a time, to cover their bases. But they overreacted, and now…”
Fury overtook Eamon, and he started to stand, the invisible force keeping him in the chair shoving him back into place. “You’re telling me that everything Autumn has gone through is because someone jumped the gun? These ladies—they almost killed her daughter.”
“Yes, well, that was unavoidable.”
“A lot of people have avoided killing her daughter,” Eamon snapped. “Why not them?”
“Because once they had threatened her,” Nova began, waving a hand as though her answer was obvious, “there was no going back. Clearly she then knew that something…sinister was happening. We had to follow through. And we will. The problem is, taking a life creates an imbalance, and we desperately need balance right now. We need all of our power right now.”
“We,” Eamon repeated. “Seems like you’re over here, sitting on your fancy flowers, and they’re doing the work. Whatever goddamn work that is.”
Nova pressed her lips together, looking at him as though he was a rebellious schoolboy and she was a disapproving teacher. “I’m recharging. My power is essential to the finalization of the sequence, and I have to be here, where I can ready myself for my pivotal role.”
“Your pivotal role in what?” Eamon asked, growing impatient. “What the hell are you doing?”
Nova smiled. “Destroying Massachusetts, of course.”
It clicked for Eamon all of a sudden, the light in Nova’s eyes chilling him. “Salem. This is about what happened at Salem. You’re getting revenge. Isn’t that water under the bridge yet?”
“The destruction of hundreds of lives is water under the bridge?” Nova demanded, her pale face flushing with rage. “Water under the bridge?”
“There were only twenty-one women killed,” Eamon pointed out. “Tragic, but yesterday’s news now.”
Nova got to her feet. “There were twenty-one women killed and hundreds of lives ruined by what happened there. Women who never got their reputation back. Families who lost mothers, daughters, sisters, friends—wives. A town torn apart because Puritan radicals couldn’t bear the thought that someone might have a little bit of power. A little bit of an edge that would keep them from tumbling into the despair and loss and need that everyone else existed within. And it’s not just their lives that were affected! It’s every life ever since, because the term witch—oh, how it makes people cringe. Oh, how it makes people think of the imagery those Puritans used to describe the women they wanted to persecute. We’re evil now, thanks to Salem, and for that there must be payment.”
“Bullshit.”
Flames leapt to life, framing the room with glaring heat. “What did you say?”
“I said that’s bullshit,” Eamon repeated, not backing down. “It wasn’t Salem that turned being a witch into something scary or dangerous. Have you not heard of the Inquisition? Europe had already been killing witche
s for centuries, and they were hardly popular figures before that.”
Nova advanced on him, all her seduction gone as she focused pure rage on him instead. “What does every school child in America know about witches? The Spanish Inquisition?” She laughed humorlessly. “Hardly. They know about the images of the women hanging from Salem trees, punished for their natural ability. That’s the American symbol of the evil ways of witches, and Massachusetts will pay. They’ll pay for all of it. They’ll pay for what they did to my mother!”
“Your mother,” Eamon said, slowly repeating her words. “That’s what this is about. The people of Salem killed your mother.”
“It’s about justice,” Nova seethed, standing directly in front of him now. “And I won’t let that woman, Autumn, get in the way. I won’t let you either. I thought that perhaps you could help us. That you would see the appeal of joining in with a group of women with more power in one little finger than you have in your entire body. But clearly you’re not a cooperative man.”
Eamon was only partially listening to her, assuming that he was getting the gist of her words just from her tone. “You keep saying women,” he said. “But it was a man who Autumn saw. A man in a robe. Bearded. He chased her.”
“A man with the privilege of being let into the circle of power,” Nova said, leaning down and placing her hands on the arms of the chair he was sitting on, her face close to his. “You could have been one of those men. My own private pet. My dragon walking around in human form. I would have loved riding you, in every sense of the word, and you would have had anything you wanted at your fingertips. But you passed it up, and I’m not a forgiving woman.”
“I wasn’t asking for forgiveness.”
“I’ll kill you, you know.”
Eamon tilted his head this time, staring at her calmly. “And upset the balance? The balance is very important, Nova.”
Rearing back, she slapped him hard across the face. “You think you have one over on me, but you don’t. I might not be able to kill you right this moment, but I know how to make your life miserable, and I’ll use her to do it. Your lady love—she’s still going to die because she became part of the sequence, but now I’m going to make the process of getting there so much more painful.”
Celtic Dragons Page 61
