Destiny's Magick

by Rae Morgan

  The voice wasn't in her head this time. Fearfully, Rhea turned her head toward the all-too-real voice. A tall, white-haired woman with serenely green eyes, dressed in azure robes and surrounded by a pale golden glow, hovered in the corner of the room. A foot off the ground.

  “Are you real?”

  “Yes, my child. I'm your grandmother Elspeth. Well, more precisely, I'm the spirit of Elspeth.”

  “That's not real.” Although she seemed to be fairly solid despite the floating-thing. And, she was the spitting image of the pictures of Elspeth in her family albums.

  “It is to those of us who are in the spirit world.” The ghost's tone was rebuking.

  “Sorry.” Rhea shook her head. “I can't believe I'm talking to a ghost.”

  “Why not? You talked to me when I was a voice in your head. I thought you would be more comfortable if you could see to whom you spoke. Was I wrong?”

  Rhea laughed. “You got me there. At least, I'm not talking to an empty room. Sort of.”

  Her grandmother smiled. “You remind me of your father. The same sardonic tone of voice.”

  “Father never spoke of you.”

  “Not surprising. He did not approve of the old ways.”

  “Old ways?”

  “Magick. He denied his witch blood.”

  “So, what we just did-”

  “Teleporting.”

  “Okay. Is that a part of the old ways?”

  “Yes. As are the out-of-body experiences on the astral plane you've had with Drake, who is also a witch, and quite a powerful one.”

  “Let's discuss what Drake Morgan did to me on the what-sit plane. Was he really making love to me?”

  “He made love with his projected body to your projected body. Didn't you enjoy it?”

  Rhea flushed at the memory of just how much she'd enjoyed it.

  “Well, yeah, sure. But I don't know him. I never met him until today when he saved me from Seb Headley. What's going on here, grandmother?”

  “Child, you are caught up in a battle for the leadership of the Coven of the Wolf. Drake is the current leader, but there is another who wishes to de-throne him. You are the key. With you as his wife, Drake will be unbeatable by any other rogue witch wishing to take over the business.”

  “Business?”

  “Morgan, Ltd. is the coven.”

  “Capitalism meets the woo-woo world?” Rhea laughed. “Next, I expect you'll tell me that other creatures like vampires, werewolves and the like have their own Fortune 500 companies.”

  “I don't need to, you just did.” Her grandmother smiled. “But Drake is an equal opportunity employer. Many of his employees are human with a smattering of other preternaturals such as you mentioned. Very enlightened is Drake, which is why many seek to get rid of him.”

  “Get rid of him as in murder?”

  “Precisely.”

  “How do you murder a witch?”

  “With black magick, my dear. Which is why he needs you. Drake and you are exact complements in magick. Where he is weak you are-or will be once you're trained-strong. And vice versa. He recognized your essence at once. He'll be a fine addition to the family.”

  “Now wait a minute. You've practically got me married to the man-and I don't even know if I like him, let alone could stand to live with him and love him that way.”

  “No time. You can learn to like him and love him in that way, as you call it, after you conjoin.”

  “Conjoin?” Rhea's voiced could barely squeeze out the next question. “Do you mean have real sex and not that astral-plane stuff?”

  “See, you're thinking like a witch already.” Her grandmother beamed and the glow around her turned up a notch from pale gold to brilliant ochre. “And it has to be soon.”

  “I'm almost afraid to ask,” groaned Rhea. “Why?”

  “Because the evil ones were coming for you when we teleported out of Drake's bedroom. That's why we had to leave immediately.”

  “The evil ones?”

  “Yes. The henchman of Warrick Bettencourt, the man who wishes to kill Drake.”

  “And to keep that from happening, I have to have-uh, intercourse with Drake so that he can defeat them and keep his job as head of the coven, uh, Morgan, Ltd.?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Wonderful. Just wonderful.”

  * * * *

  “Where in the hell is she?”

  Drake paced the area around his bed-for the tenth time. Something was not right here. The wards on the room should have signaled anyone entering or leaving. He'd set them himself after he had dried Rhea off and tucked her in his bed.

  How had she left? Her clothes were gone, so she'd obviously awakened, gotten dressed and left without setting off the alarms. Not to mention getting past the physical guards he had set outside the doors to his penthouse. Igor and Boris, the Russian wolfhounds, had seen nothing. Ewan McDonald, his Chief of Building Security, reported that his men had seen nothing untoward on the security monitors.

  He turned to the twin shapeshifters, now in their human form. His question must have been reflected on his face for they answered in unison. “She did not get past us.”

  Drake started to increase the area he paced in his bedroom. Someone had to have used magick against his wards to take Rhea. She had gotten dressed on her own. Found she could not get out. Probably sat fuming when someone came in and took her.

  Was she in danger? Had someone discovered he had found his mate and would be able to lock his hold on the coven leadership? Was there another leak in his company besides Galen?

  “Bring me, Galen. Now!”

  Both Igor and Boris leapt at his command changing effortlessly into their canine form. Four legs ran faster than two.

  Satisfied that his commands were being followed, he turned to the amulet, his only link to finding Rhea.

  Rhea?

  Go away, Drake Morgan. I'm not speaking to you.

  Are you safe?

  From you? Yes.

  Rhea! I mean you no harm.

  That's not what I hear.

  What do you mean?

  Figure it out. But get out of my head while you do it!

  A thud like a door slamming reverberated in his head. She'd shut him out! How dare she? She was just a neophyte witch. How in the hell had she done it? Better yet, how was he going to get around it? He had to have the connection with her-for her own protection.

  “Drake?”

  Betsy's voice brought him out of his dark thoughts.

  “There's something over here, but I don't recognize the pattern.”

  Drake walked toward the Chinese chest in the corner of the bedroom. As he neared the area he, too, sensed something in the air. A lingering trail of magic. Ritual wind magic.

  “Someone called upon the winds, Betsy.” Drake stared at the top of the chest. Something was out of place. “Damn. Wind magic is elemental and leaves very little to sense.”

  No, something wasn't out of place. Something or some things were missing.

  “The books are gone.”

  “The ones from Rhea's house?” Betsy asked.

  “Yes, her grandmother's books.”

  Drake closed his eyes and concentrated on the air in the room. Echoes of voices lingered along with a scintilla of the remnants of the maelstrom that must have swept Rhea away.

  Then he knew.

  “She's at her house. Someone taught her to teleport using the wind. A fairly basic procedure if you have the power and the knowledge,” Drake said.

  “Well, we know she has power, but who taught her to use it?”

  “I'm betting her grandmother.”

  “It was a good thing that she got Rhea out of here,” Keir said from his position in the doorway. Boris and Igor, still in their animal forms, also stood there, guarding a cowed Galen. “Ewan just found a hole in the sub-basement defenses. Whoever broke in is either hiding somewhere in the building or, if they're smart, long gone. No, you don't even have to ask. We are search
ing the building, and the wards are back in place, much stronger ones this time.”

  “Good.” Drake turned his attention to Galen, still white and shaking from their earlier meeting. The traitor would have been on his way to Siberia in the custody of Boris and Igor, but for the current situation. “Galen. You've admitted passing company information to Seb Headley on behalf of Warrick Bettencourt and his plan to take over the coven. But you neglected to tell me that he knew about Rhea. Why is that?”

  Galen whimpered and looked anywhere but at him. Drake raised his right hand and from his position across the room, he lifted Galen's chin. “Tell me.”

  “Because you would've killed me.”

  “Now, why do you think that?”

  “Because Warrick figured out she is your complement, and he plans to take her from you, to keep you from becoming all-powerful.”

  Drake controlled the force threatening to shoot out the ends of his fingers and into the sniveling worm who'd endangered an innocent woman. Instead, he incanted:

  Power of the earth, hear my plea,

  Remove this worm from my sight,

  And thrust him far into your loamy ground

  Where ‘tis eternal night.

  In a flash of light, Galen changed into an earthworm, then vanished.

  “Gee, boss, don't ever get made at me. Okay?” said Boris, who'd morphed into his human form, with Igor not far behind.

  “Don't do anything to tick me off, and you're safe.”

  “Do you think Rhea's grandmother sensed the evil?” Keir asked.

  “Probably. From what the elders who studied her books said, she was a rather powerful witch on the East Coast. She followed the old ways. She was prescient of the fact that her granddaughter would one day be my mate.”

  “So, she left Rhea the property to draw her to the city. When her granddaughter arrived, Elspeth's magick ensured she'd stay until you two met,” said Betsy. “That's so cool.”

  “She'll be at her house,” Drake said. “Alone. Unprotected except for her grandmother's spirit and a grimoire she's not up-to-speed on using yet.”

  “Drake, I know you want to go to her,” said Keir. “But we need your magick to help root out the other spy amongst us.”

  Drake was torn between wanting to find the other traitor and going to Rhea.

  “Drake, I'll go to Rhea's house,” Betsy offered. “I'll take the Russians with me. Between the three of us and her grandmother, we ought to be able to protect her. Keir and the others need you here.”

  Drake knew Betsy and Keir were correct; he would never be able to keep Rhea safely in his home until the traitors in their coven were discovered and vanquished. “Okay. Stay in touch. And tell her to take down the damn barriers on her mind, or the next time I see her I won't be caressing her sweet ass, but blistering it.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Rhea's Lincoln Park Town House

  “Let him in your mind, child.” Her grandmother's spirit sat above the chair opposite of hers.

  “Why?” Rhea turned to the next spell in the grimoire. “Fire balls? I'm going to shoot fireballs from my fingers? Sounds dangerous.”

  “Rhea, let the poor man know you are all right. There was danger in his building. He'll know that. He may think you are being held against your will.”

  “No, he won't. I told him to buzz off. That doesn't sound like being held against my will, does it?”

  Her grandmother laughed. The sound of it rippled throughout the room and tickled Rhea's nerve-endings. “This will be a marvelous match. The coven will be assured of its supremacy in the preternatural world. Those old fogies on the East Coast had better watch their asses.”

  “Grandmother! I'm shocked. Such language. Now tell me about the fire balls.”

  Rhea ignored the statement about her impending match as her granny called it. She was so confused about her feelings for Drake. As her dream lover, he had been wonderful. But the reality scared her. As long as it was in her mind, she was still in control of her body. Yeah, right. He'd controlled that, too, if she was honest.

  The man was the alpha male of all alpha males-and Rhea hated men telling her what to do and how to think. Drake would have to acknowledge her as an equal, court her, then she'd see about a conjuncture or whatever in the hell they called it.

  “Young lady, Drake is your destiny. Deal with it.” Her grandmother huffed, then held out her hand for the grimoire. It floated toward her. “Fire balls aren't going to be any use against someone of Warrick's experience. His chaos magick is complex. You'll need protection and reflection wards. He won't expect you to know such things.”

  Rhea knew she could eventually handle Drake and this conjuncture issue. After all, he had never hurt her. He had saved her from Headley. He hadn't consummated the physical union with her while she was unconscious. He was an honorable man. Witch. Whatever.

  But Warrick Bettencourt sounded like another matter altogether. From what her grandmother had told her, he was a combination of all the fairy tale witches and the devil himself. Accepting that she was a witch-and all the evidence pointed to that-and she was on the side of the good guys, she had to do her part, just short of being the sacrificial offering in Drake Morgan's bed, to keep Bettencourt from toppling Drake and taking over the coven.

  “Okay. Teach me.”

  * * * *

  Yorrick stared up at the second floor, corner window. He sensed her presence, her life essence and that of another-a spirit. Both powerful in magick. One ancient. One a mere toddler, but strong, with the potential of outstripping him-and possibly even Bettencourt. Grabbing this Rhea while she was new in the knowledge of her heritage was a smart move on his leader's part. She would be the bait to lure Drake Morgan to his doom.

  He approached the rear of the house. So far the wards put in place by the ancient one were strong and unknown to him. He had to find a way to break through and snatch the woman. As he moved around the back of the house, he sought a weakness. The slightest crack in one of the protection spells would allow him in. If he didn't find one, he would retrench and call Bettencourt for more help.

  Just as he was about to give up, he found his anomaly-a small fissure in the ward on a basement window. With a wave of his hand, he used his power to widen the crack, then opened and crawled through the window. As he dropped to the basement floor, the fissure shut with a resounding clank. Even knowing the sound was all in his mind, he looked around to make sure no one had heard the tell-tale sound of entry. The basement was empty. Dank and dusty from years of disuse. Not even a mouse to see or hear his passage.

  Climbing the stairs, he plotted how he would force the woman to remove the wards so he could make his escape with her as his prisoner. His thin lips cracked as he stifled the laughter bubbling up his throat. He hoped she would refuse. He had his ways of making a woman, even a witch, comply.

  * * * *

  “Someone has breached the house.”

  Startled by her grandmother's ghostly whisper against her ear, Rhea sat up and dropped the thick grimoire she studied.

  “Who is it?”

  “Not Bettencourt. I know his essence. We've crossed swords before, although he probably doesn't realize it.”

  Rhea turned. Her grandmother's spirit was almost fully formed and solid in appearance, but still hovered above the ground. The severe look on her relative's face told Rhea that what happened next was something she wasn't going to like.

  “Then who is it?”

  “One of Bettencourt's henchmen. He's attracted quite a following with his interpretation of chaos magick.” Her grandmother motioned with a hand. “Come, child, we must prepare. Those who have turned to the dark side of chaos magick tend to wreak vast amounts of destruction. If we are to survive, we must pool our power and build our wards carefully, but quickly.”

  Rhea jumped up from the chair, then stooped to pick up the precious grimoire.

  “Yes. Bring the book. It must not fall into the devil's hands. There are some spells in ther
e that only those who practice for the good should have knowledge.”

  “Like the protection wards?”

  “Exactly.” Her grandmother reached for her hand. “Join with me. And whatever happens, remain quiet. A sound at the wrong time would be your sure destruction-or worse, capture.”

  “Oh my God. He wants to use me against Drake Morgan. Right?”

  “Yes. You are both Morgan's strength and his weakness. Bettencourt knows this. His aides missed their chance to get you at Morgan's apartment. The one who comes knows you are strong. The evil ones want to capture and use you while you are weak.” Elspeth smiled. “But you are not as ignorant in your use of magick as they suspect. That will be our saving grace.”

  Rhea was sure her grandmother's faith was misplaced. But she nodded to make her mentor happy.

  Elspeth tucked the book of spells between them. “Reach down into the depths of your being and trust in the cloak of invisibility which I'm weaving around us. Believe in our magick. The one who comes is not as strong or as smart as he believes.”

  “What will my belief have to do with anything?”

  “It will allow your power to add to mine and make the wall invincible to anyone other than a very powerful witch.”

  “Like Bettencourt?”

  “Yes-and Drake Morgan.”

  Rhea stood within her grandmother's embrace. It felt warm and soft like a down comforter. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn she was cuddled up on the sofa under such a blanket all safe and sound. But she knew that was not the case. She could see the finely woven web of protection, like a living, breathing net surrounding their bodies.

  “He comes. Remember. No sound. And believe with all your might in the sanctity of my spell.”

  Rhea stared at the door to the secret room. She heard the man's heavy footsteps. He sure wasn't worried about anyone hearing his arrival. She even sensed his evil. Its foul essence reached out to her with grasping, cruel talons.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and reached down for the power she sensed was in her. She believed what Elspeth had said. The man coming would use her in horrible ways to lure Drake to rescue her. That was not going to happen. Not on her watch.