Being on the squirrel train wasn’t helping though so I hunkered low beneath the tree, burrowing my hands into the loamy soil, smelling the scent of bark, of new growth from the leaves, listening to cars humming past somewhere not far away. A robin fluttered by as the sounds of other birds seeped into my awareness.
I’d pulled out my anathema dagger that was against my leg in a sheath. Yes, I know most witches call it an athame, but my mom had always called it an anathema dagger and if it worked for her, it worked for me. Mostly it was used in rituals, but it could be a weapon if needed. I just couldn’t combine using an external harming device with any spell casting. They tended to cancel one another out, or backfire, big time, on the witch. If I was going to the other side while chanting a spell I didn’t want the dagger to complicate an already complicated situation. So it’d wait here for my return.
If I returned.
Crap, back to focusing and centering myself.
Slower. Quieter. Be in the moment.
Just like spell casting. Bringing oneself to a center point. A quiet grounding before opening up to the universe, to the power around all of us.
Sabina rustled a little then quieted.
Lying flat on my stomach was not the easiest position to summon magic but needs must.
I pitched my voice so low it was more whisper than words. First to acknowledge the spirits watching over us all.
“Light come forth. Clear the darkness. Guide and protect. Light to dark.”
I repeated, waiting until the tension between my shoulders eased. It’d be hard enough to open oneself blindly, but it’d be suicidal to make the druid aware of my presence. Nothing like a hear-I-am shout out.
Only when I was sure did I take the next step. Seeking one who I could not find. Not a scrying spell as much as calling back someone.
“Yod He Vau He, king of the east.
Adoni, king of the south.
Eheieh, king of the west.
Agla, king of the north, from whence all warriors abide.
Call back those who belong to you.”
A soft breeze kicked up around us, stirring small dust devils with bark, making me squeeze my eyes shut. This next part was the trickiest.
“I seek for one tied to me. Known to me. Bound to me.
By thrice and by syce, I thee call. I thee bind.
By new moon, by old moon. Power I thee call.
My will be thy will. My thoughts be thy thoughts.
Earth and air. Shield harm from me and mine.
Power bound. Light revealed.
I command thee. Be revealed.
There is a reason for being. Journey here to me now.
I seek thee. I call to thee. I command thee.
So mote it be!”
I used my voice to push more power into the last words. The breeze had become a sudden wind, swirling around us. Strands of my hair came loose from my braid and whipped my face. A chill rent the air.
I braced my self. Waiting. Reaching out. Expecting something. Anything.
“Bran?” I whispered, before I realized it.
But it was no good.
Like hitting a hole in space. There was nothing. Not a peep. Just a numb blankness.
My shoulders sagged. My mouth went dry. The wind stilled and then died.
“What is it?” Sabina asked, her voice cracking.
“He’s not answering.”
As if even the birds waited all sound ceased.
Sabina cleared her throat. “Well that just sucks.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Chapter Fifty-four
A roar welled up within Bran, not that it’d do any good, or that he could release it. He was well and truly encased in the prison of his own rigid body. Whatever the druid had done trapped him.
The vampire cast an appraising look toward the smug druid. “Nicely done, Padraig. My compliments.”
The one called Padraig bowed his head, but kept his gaze locked with Bran’s as if sharing his gloating mano-a-mano. There was something in that look that was very personal. Calculated revenge versus an impersonal punishment applied.
“What shall we do with him now?” the Celtic witch asked, licking her lips. “Will he survive long in this state?”
“As long as necessary,” the druid answered.
One question down. More pushing at Bran, not that he could do anything about them.
“You are ready for him?” the demon spoke up, looking at his nails as if the answer didn’t matter to him in the least.
“Yes.”
That’s when Bran knew he was well and truly screwed, as an American would have said. Not any American, but Alex, who had a fine talent for putting her finger on the nexus of a problem. Of course, she caused most of them. The woman was born trouble.
He lived but could do nothing. And this totally psychopathic druid meant to use him in some way. But how?
Since panic would do him no good, except to drive him insane, he willed himself to give nothing away, even from his gaze, as the druid seemed to be waiting for the horror, the terror to rip through Bran. There was so little he could control in this situation, except his response. For that, Bran would make the druid wait. Forever.
When Padraig didn’t expand on his one word answer, the Celtic witch leaned forward, her glass green eyes bright. “Oh, do something now, Padraig. Don’t keep us in suspense.”
Padraig glanced in her direction as he smoothed the front of his pressed shirt and returned to his chair. “I’m afraid you shall have to wait, Breena, all in good time.”
“You can tell us nothing of the details?” She pouted. A look that might have been attractive on her a few centuries ago but now only served to show her true nature; sharp and calculating.
“Let’s say we’re one step closer to making our final plans come to fruition. Zaradian is waiting. Behind him, the others.”
“I could help. You know that.”
He cast her a closed look. “We’ve discussed this before, Breena. You do not have enough power. It must be the other.”
She glanced at Bran, but the look told him she didn’t see a man anymore, only a means. “You’ll be able to use him to lure the Seekers?”
Padraig nodded as Bran’s mind raced. Alex had used the name Seekers before. But who, or what were they? And what did he have to do with them?
“Patience, Breena, all is in hand.”
“You have the witch then? The one in the portents?”
Padraig gave a small shrug.
Bran didn’t need a seer to know which witch he meant. There was only one who came to mind. Alex.
His heart, deep within his petrified body, shuddered.
The druid spoke. “This one shall work.”
“But I-I thought—” the witch sputtered.
“All is under control, Breena. With him.” The druid cast him a disdainful glance. “She will come. Then we shall have two powerful magic wielders.”
“And if she doesn’t come?” The witch’s tone indicated how unlikely she thought another would risk her life for Bran.
“We shall start the process with the mage. He might prove to be just enough to open the portal.”
He called out to someone behind Bran’s sight. “Bring him to the laboratory.”
“Yes, sir.”
The sounds of hurried footsteps reached Bran as someone grabbed his legs and levered him to a horizontal position like a ladder, awkward but manageable and ready to be moved. He could smell the sharp scent of Weres. Why had the Weres aligned with the druid and his friends on the Council? Something to figure out and the sooner the better.
“Mr. Byrnes, Mr. Noziak is at the door to have a word with you.”
“What does he want?” Breena asked, her voice a little less stable than seconds ago.
“No worries, my dear. I’ll take care of him.” A pause then the sound of clapping hands. “Hurry now. Remove him. Breena, I’ll meet you below.”
Bran could say nothing. Do nothing. N
ot even call out to Jeb Noziak.
But if Noziak senior was about it could mean his daughter was near also.
Why couldn’t she use common sense for once and stay clear of trouble instead of running headlong into it?
But that wouldn’t be Alex.
Chapter Fifty-five
“What do you mean you hear nothing from Bran?” Van hissed in my ear as if all this mess was my fault.
“N.O.T.H.I.N.G,” I repeated, gritting my teeth as I re-sheathed my dagger. “I can’t reach him.” Then, before he could ask why I clarified, each word bitten out, “Maybe I don’t have the ability. Or he could be blocking.” Or he could be dead.
Wasn’t going there.
“Fine.” Van said it like most women used the word, meaning it wasn’t fine by a long shot and there’d be hell to pay, later, but right now we were moving on. He was staring at the house as if he could see through walls as he mumbled, “Dad’s already gone inside. We’ll give him another ten minutes to exit, then snatch him and notify the others there might be a change of plans.”
“Meaning?” My turn to glare, at him. “You going to leave Bran in that place?”
“If he’s dead, yes.”
Gloves were off. Sabina sucked in a deep breath as I held my temper long enough to ask in a slow-measured-slice-and-dice tone. “And if he’s not dead? You’re guaranteeing that outcome by sitting on our hands out here.”
The look my brother gave me could flay skin. Tough.
“Bran came through for you.” Two could play contact sports. “Now you’re tossing him aside?”
I recognized the tightening of Van’s face, the thinning of his lips. I’d scored and neither of us liked that.
“Risking more people on the chance he’s still alive can lead to useless deaths.” He turned to look me eye-to-eye. “You want those lives on your conscience?”
Of course I didn’t. I wasn’t an idiot. But neither was I going to assume the worst and by doing so make it a reality. Staring at the house but seeing nothing but Bran trapped and alone, I swallowed the fear leaching through my skin before I asked, “If I can prove he’s not dead, will you help then?”
“How—” then he remembered what I was. Shaman born. “You’re willing to go to the other side for him?”
“In a heartbeat.” I meant it too and I wasn’t sure who was more surprised, Van or myself.
My brother nodded before looking away. “You have ten minutes. No more.”
“Understood.”
“What’s she going to do?” Sabina asked, sounding much younger than her almost-fifteen years.
“I’m checking out another realm. See if Bran is there. If not, it’s easier to believe he’s alive in this realm.”
“R-realm?” she stuttered over the single word. “As in you’re going to die?”
“Not exactly.” I needed every second to focus and travel between realms, not to nursemaid a scared little girl. “Van will explain what’s happening.”
“She’s risking her life on the off chance the warlock still lives,” Van muttered.
I was hoping for a little more compassion. Not for me, Van was as much Noziak as I was, but some understanding for Sabina, some reassurances.
“On second thought, don’t listen to a word he says.” I gave Van a what-the-hell-are-you-thinking look. Which he ignored.
Fine. I could do this myself. Well, except for the need of a heartbeat as a guide to find my way back here.
I butted Van’s shoulder with my own. “You going to get that stick out of your butt and help?” He knew what I needed so I didn’t have to spell out the details.
He shrugged, then went still, until he could feel the tempo of his own heart beating in his chest. Once in touch he started the chant we’d all learned from standing at my father’s knees. Van grabbed two small stones and started tapping them together, his voice tight and low. “A way ah way yah. A way ah way yah. A way ah way yah.” It didn’t matter what he said as long as he kept the beat steady. Not loud. But the sound of his voice, his beats, would keep me anchored in this world.
I closed my eyes, easing all tenseness coursing through me. It wasn’t easy but needed to be done.
I was running out of time.
Chapter Fifty-six
I hadn’t told Van the whole truth. To travel to the spirit realm, I would leave my physical body an empty shell, vulnerable to attack. But with Van here I trusted him to guard me long enough to do what I needed to do.
No, what was going to be tricky was I was crossing over while at the same time as I uttered a soul mate seeking a warlock spell. Think steering a motorcycle on an icy patch of freeway while zooming at seventy miles an hour, blindfolded. To travel between realms took a huge amount of energy. To spell cast also took energy. Combining the two meant the possibility that one or the other wouldn’t work. If it was the spell I could still search for Bran, but finding one recently crossed spirit in that other realm made hunting for a needle in a field of haystacks seem easy-peasey.
The big challenge was losing a grip on Van’s voice by being distracted. No voice, no navigation back, it was as simple as that.
But I was desperate.
Closing my eyes tight, I inhaled slowly, still in this realm, aware of the scents, the sounds stilling around me. All except Van’s guttural singsong voice, creating a slow, melodic cadence, as familiar as a mother’s heartbeat. Well, not my mother because she’d bagged me, but my image of what a mother should be.
I framed an image of Bran behind my closed lids. The slash of his rugged cheekbones, the cant of his lips, the flash of those Celtic blue eyes, the protection he spread over those around him. Over me.
Most times. When he wasn’t PO’d at me. Or working toward his own agenda, which often was in conflict with mine.
But those other times. When he’d smile, that sexy, warm-the-toes smile that started with his lips and reached his eyes. Or the feel of his touch, sometimes butterfly wing gentle, other times intensely urgent. And his kisses. Oh, Mamma, that man knew how to kiss.
My body warmed, a rush of knowingness. Our relationship was complicated and screwed up, but there was something there. Something that deserved a chance.
I’d told Van the truth. I’d travel between life and death to give Bran that chance. That chance to feel the sun one more time, to laugh again, to find out if what we started together was a fluke or fate.
Only then did I start the whisper chant.
“Light to darkness. Spirit to Earth.
Witch to warlock.
I seek thee. I summon thee.
Bring me to your side.”
A flash zigzagged up my leg toward my heart. Not pain, more like a whiplash of heat.
First step done. Now to merge with the other realm.
I uttered a silent prayer to the spirit guardian of my shamanic ancestors that the next breath I took wouldn’t be my last, and murmured the first ritual words.
“Come, death, advise me.”
I remembered doing this on my last mission in Africa as heat slapped against my skin. Here the Parisian spring disappeared, the scents of tilled earth, the chit-chit of sparrows high in the overhead branches, all becoming a background blur. I closed my eyes tighter and continued.
“Earth be found.
Power be bound.
Stall Nature’s course.
Earth, dust, bone.
Bind to me.
Spirits Realm welcome me.
Spirits Realm call me forth.”
When I opened my eyes I was there. The Spirits’ waiting grounds. The realm between worlds, where the souls of the dead mingled. If only for a brief time.
I braced myself for what was waiting for me. Once darkness, filled with thousands of churning souls, another time an intense heat with a sun so brilliant I could see nothing. This time?
A grayness so thick nothing penetrated. Like stepping into murky fog with no sense of time or space.
How was I going to find Bran if I couldn’t see
anything? Couldn’t feel anything?
I stood still, allowing the wraiths of those in this place to whisper around me. Slashes of chill and whisper-thin sound, like winter storms whistling through an old house. When I was sure my voice would hold steady I continued the chant to find a warlock.
“Bound together, dark and day.
Time forward, meet time reversed.
I seek thee. I summon thee.
Bring me. Bring me to your side.
Voice to heart. Heart to soul.
Show me what I seek.
If thy be here, reveal yourself.”
Before I opened my eyes I added a silent, please.
Then I looked around. Like a dawn creeping over the skyline, pale pink lightened the gray.
“Bran?” I asked, aware my voice shook, but then so did my hands, and my knees. I took a step forward, cleared my throat and tried again, “Bran? Are you here?”
Nothing.
Chapter Fifty-seven
Van continued to chant, refusing to glance at Alex, not when she looked dead beside him.
Sabina, the kid witch next to him mumbled, “Do you think she’s okay?”
Everything in him wanted to give an angry shake of his head. Of all the fool, ill-thought-out, hare-brained ideas, why had he agreed to this?
They had a plan. One that might have worked but it’d gone FUBAR so fast his head spun.
So now his sister was haring off to the spirit realm, which made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. His dad had already been inside longer than originally planned, though Van still had four minutes before sounding an alarm, and beside him was a scared, little witch, shaking in her boots as they lay stretched out beneath some sticky leaved trees.
Yup, FUBAR!
He’d run enough missions to know that flexibility was key. That and to keep his focus on the prize. In this case the warlock, Bran. This wasn’t just a snatch-and-grab mission though. This was to thwart some bad shit coming down. Shit involving his father, his sister, and now, Bran.
INVISIBLE FATE BOOK THREE: ALEX NOZIAK (INVISIBLE RECRUITS) Page 22
