by Regan Black
“You aren’t certain the dagger will be enough.”
She was uncomfortably reminded of how well Darius could read her. “I am certain.” She matched his direct gaze. “Just as I am certain there are other items of power we should control before they are turned against us.”
“Once we rise, no one will dare.”
She smiled, remembering the feel of his hot body moving over hers. They were a study in contrasts, his skin ebony, hers pale as cream. His height and breadth personified strength, while her smaller stature gave an impression of weakness. Their similarities solidified their union and underscored what mattered most. They both craved power of complimenting measures. They were devoted to their cause and determined to see her in her rightful place as the head of not only the order, but the world. More importantly, they’d sworn allegiance to the witch who’d come before them and they would pursue that ultimate goal with no regard to time or cost.
“We could perform the ritual tonight,” Darius said, his dark eyes going bright with power.
She smiled, content in the knowledge that only she was privy to this physical manifestation of the talents he kept hidden. “We’ve waited a long time and rushing now would be -”
“My -”
“Hush!” She placed a finger to her lips, signaling silence. “Someone seeks us,” she said for his ears alone.
He scowled, his gaze following hers to the dagger’s hilt. The ruby glowed weakly, then winked out. She relaxed for a moment, then realized the full force of what it meant.
Someone was scrying for the dagger through the small lens her thief had left behind. How interesting. “Hurry!” She crossed the room to the side table, peering into the silver bowl she’d dedicated to watching the O’Malley office, and let the quietly probing magic come nearer.
This was no stroke of luck, no hack who’d stumbled on a curiosity, she realized. Strong and cunning, whoever was unraveling her spell so swiftly needed a lesson in the limits of power. And her intolerance.
“My, my.” She hadn’t met a magic with such intriguing roots before. This was an old power. “Come along,” she urged, holding back her retaliation, wanting to put a face with the mystical energy signature. “Reveal yourself to me.”
The power aimed at her shifted, slithering much as the thief’s blood had done on the blade of the dagger, turning more aggressive. No longer following a nearly invisible trail, now the magician on the other end sought to burn her connection.
“Not so fast,” she whispered in a low hiss.
She sought out the images before she gently prodded the opposing force. When the magician hesitated she leaped into the gap, pumping power through the lens. She could not see clearly, not even in that cramped room. She swore at the vague shadows of two people. One must be the O’Malley girl. Who was the other? What did they think they knew?
She gave her dark gift free rein, overloading the lens with searing heat, teaching them a lesson. The water in the bowl trembled with her power and she knew they felt it on the other end. Then the connection was abruptly severed and she gazed powerlessly into a cracked scrying bowl as water dripped to the floor.
“What did you see?” Darius asked.
“Shadows. Nothing specific.” And she should have. She’d felt the hesitation, her spell should have given her a clear view of her opposition. “The room was somehow veiled from me in the last moments.”
Darius’ silence revealed the depth of his concern. Oh, he’d never utter any judgment or blame, he was too smart for that, but neither of them knew anyone powerful enough to match her as this new magician had done. Her temper flared and her fingers shook with the strain of holding back an outright tantrum.
“The O’Malleys have a new ally,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I will go.”
She should send him, she knew it was best. Tempting as it was, this was not the time for her to go in person and show this new player what he was up against. She needed information. “They will be weakened for a time. Send the thief, in a glamour you cast,” she began, thinking it through. She paced the length of the room, her eyes on the dagger. “Send our best trickster with him.”
“And they should do what, precisely?”
“Gather information. Give them a charm to identify our new enemy. I want to know all we can about the person daring to interfere.”
“Shall I send a security team to bring them in?”
She shook her head, unwilling to give this situation more weight than it deserved. “I don’t want them any closer than they are.” Not yet anyway. “Cloaked in your glamour there should be no need for a direct confrontation. The thief and the trickster will go to that dingy bar and have a pint. When they return I will read what they witnessed.”
“It will be as you say.” Darius walked out in the lethal silence that was his trademark.
Leaving her alone with the dagger, just where she longed to be.
Chapter Six
For the past two hours, Tara had been fabricating ways to keep Wayne at the bar, buying time for Nick to show up. Her cousin would have to talk some sense into Wayne. She’d reviewed the specials with the bartender and double-checked all was well with the kitchen staff as the evening shift swung into gear.
Through it all, she had the massive shadow of a Knight of the Round Table hovering over her shoulder. A man in his prime beyond any doubt, but a man caught in the wrong century. Rather than get irritated with his looming presence, she counted her blessings that he hadn’t yet stalked off into the city in search of whatever dark power had stolen her dagger. Fortunately, the dog seemed to be on her side, making himself a popular new attraction with her regular customers who filled barstools at the working end of the long bar.
“Things are controlled,” Wayne said, leaning across the bar top. “I will walk you home now.”
“Sure. Just one m -”
“You’re stalling.”
She stopped moving. A rack of clean glassware in her hands, her eyes shot to the door for the umpteenth time, hoping the next man through it would be Nick. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. Wayne didn’t understand the work, though he recognized the routine of it steadied her. She had a legacy to maintain with the bar. Bad enough she’d lost the dagger, she wouldn’t give anyone reason to claim she failed the business too.
He’d mostly kept his peace, tolerating introductions among her staff with minimal responses. When people commented about Sterling, she explained him as a therapy dog. If this took more than a few days, they would need to take official precautions, but for the moment she knew her staff and regulars would let the anomaly slide.
“We must not stay here any longer,” he said, relieving her of a heavy rack of pint glasses.
“I had that,” she complained. She’d been working in this bar in one capacity or another since she was twelve. She didn’t need anyone to do her heavy lifting.
“You’re a woman,” he said, adding the tray to the stack under the bar as if he did this every night.
“Women are allowed to lift glassware.”
He looked offended. “You should not do such things. Allow me to help so we can leave. You are in danger, Tara.”
She jerked her chin up, and aimed him toward the office. “Let’s take a moment,” she said. The office wasn’t her favorite place after that bizarre experience, but it was the only area that guaranteed privacy on a busy night.
When she pushed the door open, Sterling pranced through the doorway as though nothing untoward had happened. Wayne grumbled and followed the dog. She closed the door and leaned back against it. “This is my family’s legacy. I’ve been trusted with in and I’m in charge. You have your quest and responsibilities. I have mine. I can’t just walk away on a whim.”
“We must,” he argued. “The witch who cast that scrying spell will try again. Once you are safe I will track her down.”
Witch. She knew a woman was involved. “Why?”
His chest swelled on a sharp inhale. He
crossed his arms and stared her down.
He presented a delicious eyeful, but his intimidation tactics wouldn’t work on her. “You owe me that much. The dagger’s been here for generations with no trouble. Why now?”
His lips remained closed. “Great.” She gripped the doorknob, managing to keep her voice even. “I’m going back to work. I’ll be safe enough here. You can take my phone.” She pulled the device out of her pocket and forced him to take it. “Touch the green symbol when you see Nick’s face.”
“I’ve watched others do this tonight.”
“Good.” She turned to leave, determined that losing this skirmish wouldn’t keep her out of the real battle ahead.
“Wait.”
She felt the air change, growing warmer as he stepped up behind her.
“I am afraid for you, Tara.” His voice curled around her. “You are in danger when the witch realizes the full nature and intention of that dagger. Staying here could put you and everyone within your tavern at risk. We must leave.”
“Are you kidding me?”
He shook his head.
“We’ve survived many a bar fight, I assure you,” she said. “There’s this thing called insurance to cover damages now.”
“I’ve been in many a bar fight,” Wayne admitted with a rueful quirk of his lips. “This will be different. Nothing will stand against her, she is too curious.”
“About the bar?”
“About me.” He sucked in another deep breath. “As the one who blocked her view and crushed the device the thief left behind.”
She studied him, then the greyhound at his side. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Everything I say or don’t say is for your protection.”
“Bull. Protect me while I’m working, then. If this witch you’re worried about shows up, my staff will have you around to help us deal with her.”
“She doesn’t care about hurting your staff,” he stated as if that somehow made his case.
“Good,” she said. “I won’t ditch my crew or my business just to avoid a treasure-hunting witch.”
“You misunderstand.”
“Could that have anything to do with how little you’re sharing?”
His mouth snapped shut and his nostrils flared. “I am giving you facts as they become known. I am here because the original vow was broken. The witch is not seeking treasure. When she comes, she will be vastly interested in any O’Malley progeny. You in particular.” He stepped closer, not quite touching Tara, though she wasn’t sure how it was possible in the cramped space. “She will want to know who I am, why I’m helping you. Because she does not care about others, she will not hesitate to maim or kill any person who stands up to her. If you won’t leave this place for your own good, leave for theirs.”
The intensity washed over her, sending tremors through her bloodstream. The room seemed to close in or maybe her vision was failing after all the unexpected, inexplicable stresses. She swayed and found herself caught, steadied by his big hands on her shoulders.
“You’re unwell.” He scooped her into his arms. “We are leaving at once.”
“No, I’m fine,” she protested, ignoring how nice it was to be held. “Put me down.” She couldn’t let her staff see her like this. “Please.”
He set her in the chair with extraordinary care and knelt in front of her. “I will tell you everything,” he lowered his voice. “As soon as you are behind protective wards I trust.”
She didn’t believe him. The man in front of her intended to keep as many secrets as possible. Though his reasons were probably honorable, it was her family honor on the line. “I studied you when I was a kid,” she said, regretting the admission immediately.
“How?” He leaned away, his blue gaze wary. “Why? I was no one. What do you think you know?”
“Not nearly enough,” she replied, her eyes on his. She could stare into those blue eyes for days. “King Ar -”
He covered her mouth with his hand. “Not here, I implore you.”
She nodded, startled into cooperating. He removed his hand a thousand times more slowly than he’d applied it. Being face to face with a living, breathing version of the knight she’d crushed on as a girl made her breath hitch. The colliding sensations of legend and reality made her ache for something she dare not dwell on right now. They were adults with a far more serious agenda than attraction if this witch was as deadly as he implied. It shocked her to find herself almost as irritated with her long-dead ancestor as Wayne had been when he arrived in Times Square. Although if Peter had kept his vow Tara would never have met the real Gawain. She dropped her head to her hands as the room took another spin.
“Two facts matter,” Wayne said. “You were born into this mess and I was born to resolve it.” Wayne’s hands rested on the arms of the chair, caging her. “Will you trust me to fulfill my quest?”
She felt her chin bobbing in agreement once more. “Will you please trust us to help you?” She wanted to be in on the recovery of the dagger, and if leaving the bar to a temporary manager drew this witch away from innocent people, that was better all around.
Relief washed over her when he nodded affirmatively.
“I’m running a business,” she said, getting her mind back on point. “It’s not about personal pride or money,” she said, seeing the argument sparking in his gaze. “It’s about the people who rely on their jobs here. I can’t close the doors and send them home without pay. A few of them wouldn’t survive that.”
“None of them will survive if that witch shows up wielding the dagger.”
She swallowed, seeing the carnage far too easily. “We’ll leave, I promise. I’ll make a call and get things covered.” She shifted to stand and he held his ground, crowding her. “What now?”
“It would be best if none of your family were here.”
“Yeah, I assumed as much. Can I have my phone?” When Wayne returned it, she sent a text message to Nick, letting him know the plan and urging him to hurry up whatever he was doing. Then she twisted around, reaching for the desk phone. Through the generations, her family had made connections with other businesses around town. They had trustworthy friends who could fill in for her for a few days.
Wayne’s impatience was palpable as she made the arrangements. Sterling, however, stood at her side, resting his chin on her thigh. Stroking his ears calmed her as she discussed options and gave instructions. When she was done, she bent low and gave the hound a kiss between the eyes.
Wayne snorted, but she interpreted a happy smile on Sterling’s sweet face. His eyes were friendly, where the man’s were not. “Let me just straighten up in here.” She was suddenly reluctant to leave the office and it had nothing to do with business.
“Enough stalling,” Wayne snapped. “You said no one else comes in here.”
“The temporary manager will need access while I’m gone.”
Exasperated, his shoulders fell. “How long will that take?”
“How long will I need to be away from here?” she countered.
“As long as it takes to recover the dagger,” he answered. “Until I learn more about the witch, I dare not set a timeline.”
She appreciated his honesty on that point. She’d thought - hoped - the issue would be resolved quickly. Their debilitating encounter with magic gave her a far different impression. “Can you teach me to defend myself against spells like that one?” She tipped her head toward the picture where the bug had been planted.
“Possibly.” He shoved his fisted hands into his pockets. She was learning that signaled his uncertainty. “It is a good idea. As rightful owner of the dagger, you are the person she will target if things do not go as she plans.”
His grim admission skittered like ice down her spine. “You know her plans?” She caught the quick hesitation, the way his gaze slid away from hers. He was hiding big secrets behind the flimsy cover of not having all the facts.
“I can only guess at her plans.”
“D
o you know where to start searching for her or the dagger?”
“You said you would trust me.” His mouth thinned in obvious irritation. “I will track down the witch and the dagger. I have tools to assist me.”
“So use those tools,” she encouraged.
“Not here.” He shook his head. “It would be foolish to do that again.”
This conversation wasn’t getting them anywhere. They were both too stubborn and, she believed, too shaken by the earlier attack. She stood, planting her hands on her hips, and went toe to toe with him. “When you do find the dagger, you’re not planning on keeping me away from the dangerous, manly undertaking of recovering it are you?”
~*~
Wayne sensed the trap. Though he didn’t understand the full vocabulary of this time the undercurrent and the fire in her eyes made her meaning clear enough. “It would be best if you allowed Nick and me to recover the dagger. Wait.” He held up his finger as she tried to interrupt him. “I respect why you want to be involved. It isn’t wise, but I respect it.”
“Respect.” She pursed her lips as she studied him. “It’s a start.”
It seemed his reply had diffused her anger. He hoped the current calm would last, though he did not expect this to be their last confrontation over his tactics. None of the choices ahead of him were pleasant, he could only hope to mitigate the inevitable fallout.
He’d warned her as best he could at this stage. She’d felt the backlash firsthand when the witch blocked his investigative probing. It troubled him that he couldn’t find sufficient words to convince her to hide and wait it out. Though he had his suspicions about the witch behind the attack, speculation would surely backfire. All that was clear to him was that his first efforts in the 6th century had not been enough. He’d promised to trust Tara and Nick, but he could not be sure trust would be enough in this century.
“I’m ready,” she said, squeezing past him to open the office door. She extended an arm for him to exit ahead of her.
He and the hound waited for her to proceed. “Ladies first.”
She laughed, her green eyes sparkling with amusement for the first time in many hours. “I think you’ve noticed I’m not like the ladies you’re used to.”
