The assassin’s friend looked as though he’d seen a ghost. And he had. The ghost of death coming for him. Torin had no patience for those who would lie in wait and kill from a distance. He had no sympathy for those who killed for money. When he looked at the remaining man and watched the light of the fire dance over his wide, terrified eyes, Torin felt nothing for him.
Only the sheer determination to get what he’d come for.
Around him, the night was alive with sound. The fire. Shouts. Screams. And in the distance, a siren called out, wailing mournfully.
Standing in the treeline behind the motel, they were well hidden. He grabbed the man by the neck, lifted him high off the ground and looked up into small, frightened eyes. “Who is it you work for? Who is after Shea Jameson?”
The man frantically pulled at Torin’s hand, futilely trying to loosen his grip. Nails scraped and scratched but couldn’t help him.
Torin’s hand only tightened around the man’s throat as he kicked his legs wildly, looking for purchase, desperately laboring for air that wouldn’t come.
Torin shook him like a dog. “Who sent you here?”
Fury spat at him from the man’s eyes. His face was red, mottled. His hands continued to tear at Torin’s grip, hoping to ease it. Torin easily turned and slammed the man into a wide tree trunk, rattling the man’s head so hard his eyes jittered. “Talk to me, bastard, or die right here.”
Wildly, the man nodded. Frantic eyes rolled back in his head, feet kicked against the tree.
Torin eased off on the pressure slightly to allow the faintest whisper of air to enter the man’s starving lungs. “Talk.”
“Orders,” he said, still sounding strangled even as he hissed in one small breath of air after another. “Over the phone.”
“From who?”
“Don’t know,” he insisted, slapping now at Torin’s hand, locked firmly around his throat. “Didn’t ask! Stop!”
That last word came out on a wheeze as Torin’s hard fist squeezed more tightly again. All around him, the fire roared and humans scurried, trying to save something of the burning motel. The siren continued to wail, closer now, and he knew that in moments there would be even more humans cluttering up the scene. He had no time to waste with this scum.
“You take blind orders to kill a woman? No questions asked?” The black fury inside him was growing, spreading.
“Not . . . woman . . .” the man managed. “Witch.” Hatred fueled that word and glittered in the man’s dying eyes. There was no remorse. No regret. Only a determination that burned as fiercely in his soul as the flames that ate up the motel behind them.
“I cannot let you live,” Torin told him flatly. “No woman is safe—witch or human—while men such as you walk free.”
Worry darted across the man’s eyes but a moment later was replaced by resignation and a kind of fanatic pride. As Torin’s grip eased, he spoke again in a hoarse voice. “Killing me stops nothing. She’ll never be safe. Witches should die. They’ll find her. They’ll kill—”
Torin snapped the neck beneath his hand and let the man fall. If no one moved the body, it would be consumed by the spreading flames of the fire he had caused. There was justice in that.
Either way, the threat was gone for the moment and Torin shifted his gaze to the trees where his woman waited. He’d wasted enough time on this task.
He called on the flames and flashed to Shea’s side.
Kellyn felt the stars beginning to align.
She even gave the desk clerk at the Renaissance Mayflower Hotel a coy smile as he tapped his fingers across the keyboard.
“I’m sorry, miss,” he said finally, and to give him his due, he did seem disappointed, “but our Presidential Suite has been reserved in advance.”
A quick whip of impatience sliced through her, but Kellyn smiled through it. Leaning across the marble counter, she took the young man’s hand and squeezed gently. The sparks flying from her touch went unnoticed by anyone else. “Check again. I think you’ll find the room is in my name.”
He stared at her, his eyes blank, his mouth slack. Her spell countered his objections and as she waited for his response, she whispered, “Do for me what I will.”
The young man blinked, took a shaky breath and nodded. “Yes,” he said, his voice as robotic as his movements. “You’re right, of course. The room is reserved for you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Kellyn smiled again, relishing the sweep of power she felt. How did humans manage to stumble through their lives without the electrifying pump of something magical inside them? What boring, tiny creatures they were. And yet, she told herself, oh, so helpful when properly motivated.
“See? I knew you’d find the mistake,” she assured him graciously. “Now, I’d like champagne and strawberries delivered to my suite in an hour. Please be sure the champagne is very cold. I’d hate to be disappointed.”
Again her power crackled against the young man’s skin and he nodded quickly. “I’ll see to it personally.”
“Aren’t you kind?” When he produced a sign-in sheet for her signature, she simply waved her free hand at it and it disappeared. He went through the motions of filing the nonexistent paper away and then handed her the key cards. “You’ve been very helpful”—she paused to read the name tag pinned to his suit jacket—“Michael.”
“Thank you, miss. My pleasure.”
“I’m sure it was,” she said, releasing him at last. As she did, his free hand swept to the spell-charmed wrist she’d held and idly scratched at his own skin. He would feel the burn of her spell for a few hours, but would remember nothing else about this encounter.
And should the original party show up to claim his reserved Presidential Suite . . . well, she would deal with them in the same way.
Turning, she walked down the long marble lobby, enjoying the quiet click of her Ferragamos. Power. It was all about power, really.
At the elevator, she waved one hand at the closed doors and they opened instantly. She stepped inside, leaned languorously against the wall and smiled to herself as the doors swept shut.
“Good to be a witch,” she whispered to no one.
She’d waited through lifetime after lifetime for this and now it was all within her grasp. It was all coming together so nicely. As if it were Destiny. Preordained. And she believed it was. How could it not be?
She had a plan. More, she had powerful backers. Yes, she was being forced to deal with humans, but when the stakes were this high, she was willing to put up with some aggravation.
They didn’t understand, of course. How could they? The humans believed that they were in charge. That she was their willing accomplice.
She laughed a little as the elevator opened onto the Presidential Suite. Above her head a wide skylight offered a view of the night sky, shining with stars and the ever-increasing moon. The floor was a mosaic pattern of inlaid marble and the wall sconces threw small shafts of golden light.
She walked through the suite, admiring the elegant furnishings, acquainting herself with the luxury she would quickly become accustomed to. Then she walked to the closest terrace and opened the doors.
The night air was soft and cool against her skin and the hum of the city spread out below her. Everything was just as it should be.
The plan was in place. All she needed now was to wait for the signal that would begin the game.
“Soon,” she whispered, glancing up at the night sky as the moon darted behind a swath of clouds as if hiding from her. “Soon it will all be mine and no one will be able to stand against me.”
Alone on the terrace with the night as witness, Kellyn laughed as power shimmered out all around her.
Chapter 33
Shea was watching the fire consume the motel, and the nearby trees, when her own personal pillar of fire erupted alongside her. What did it say about her, she wondered, that she no longer jumped in surprise when Torin did the flaming-man thing?
“He’s dead, isn’t
he?” she asked, not even glancing at him. “Whoever did this is dead. You killed him.”
“Them,” he corrected, taking her shoulder and turning her to face him. “There were two. They were directed to kill you, but they didn’t know who was giving the orders.”
“So nothing was solved,” she pointed out quietly. She turned her head as the first fire engine arrived and the howling siren shut off abruptly. Men scattered, running for hoses, shouting instructions, all while the fire raged and hissed at them as if taunting their puny efforts to extinguish it.
“You’re safe again,” Torin said.
“For now.”
“Now is all we have,” he told her and drew her to him.
She tried to hold herself away, but her instincts worked against her. She might not like what was happening, but her mind insisted that she could hardly blame Torin for protecting her. There were people out there—even now—plotting her death. Shea closed her eyes and sighed as she wrapped her arms around Torin’s middle.
Burrowing into his steadiness, his warmth, she worried not about the now but about tomorrow. And the day after that. How were they supposed to complete whatever their task was if she couldn’t unlock the right memory? How was she supposed to defend herself if her powers were still wildly unpredictable?
His hands swept up and down her spine and despite the situation, her body responded. Desire for this man was always only a breath away. And apparently, even the threat of imminent death couldn’t defeat it.
“We have to go,” Torin said, pulling her back from him so that he could look into her eyes.
“How?” she asked on a short laugh that carried a tinge of near hysteria. Pointing down the hill, she said, “The explosion took out your car.”
He didn’t even glance at the blackened hulk of the sleek Viper. “We’ll find another. But for now . . .”
He pulled her close again and she nodded, folding herself around him as tightly as possible. “We go by fire.”
“Close your eyes.”
If anyone had looked up into the stand of trees, they might have thought that the inferno was spreading. But in a heartbeat, the tall tower of flames was gone and darkness reigned supreme again.
Rune’s phone call a few hours later explained how they had been tracked.
“It was under Terri’s left breast,” he said. “I don’t know if it will be the same with Shea, but that seems a good place to start checking.”
“I will.” Torin looked across the room at Shea. She hadn’t spoken again since he’d flashed her to a new motel. It had taken longer than he would have liked to cover the distance between Flagstaff, Arizona, and where they were now, in tiny El Rito, New Mexico. But he’d wanted as much distance between them and the last attack as possible.
Now he was glad of it. If there was another tracker on Shea’s body somewhere, they had to find it before whoever was after them had time to catch up.
Shea paced the small motel room. Her nerves were so tight, her power was spiking and Torin felt it as he would have a fever. Tension was ripe in the air between them and damned if he knew how to break it. He had done what he would always do. What he must do. Protect her. He would protect them all. If she couldn’t see that . . .
“Doc Fender is back in the mix, too,” Rune was saying and Torin paid attention.
He went completely still at that piece of news. “Are you sure?”
“The witches of Sanctuary are sure,” his friend said. “He’s the head of the Seekers.”
“I’ve heard of them.” Nothing good, either. They were a rogue band of militia types, well armed and scared. Not a good combination. But Torin had had no idea that Henry Fender was a part of that group. The man was infamous for his cruelty and his fanaticism. Knowing that he was part of an organized group operating outside of federal rules and regulations told Torin that the stakes had just gone higher.
Fender couldn’t be predicted. The man was mad and dedicated to what he saw as his God-given duty. To destroy witches. He hadn’t been heard from recently and Torin had hoped he was dead.
“The witches claim that he’s turning some of his victims,” Rune told him. “Offering to stop the pain if they’ll help capture others like them.”
“Bastard.”
“Exactly. So keep your eyes open. Seekers could be on your trail as well as everyone else.”
“I will.” His gaze touched Shea again. He couldn’t help but look to her wherever she was. It was as if unless he was touching her, he was only half alive.
Then Rune started talking again and Torin was caught up in the possibilities offered by the Sanctuary libraries of spell books. “She can reach them anywhere?”
“According to Karen, yes. Though it’s easier all around if you’re at least close to a Sanctuary. Something about power bridges built by the witches.” He blew out a breath. “The magics are stronger when you can draw on combined power.”
“Right. We’ll try it.”
Shea turned to look at him, a question in her eyes. He nodded to let her know he would tell her everything. She smiled briefly and Torin felt a rush of pride in her swell within him. His woman had a core of steel.
“Have you heard anything about Egan?”
“No,” Rune admitted. “But I’m going to check in with a few of the others. See if anyone’s seen him.” He paused. “You know how it is, Torin. After centuries of waiting, some can only deal with it by disappearing. Keeping to themselves.”
“That time is past,” Torin said. “The Awakening is begun and we must all stand by our witches. So you need to find Egan.”
“I will. Watch your back.”
Torin hung up and looked across the room at his woman. The strength of his gaze finally caught her attention and she looked at him. “What are we going to try?”
“The witches of Sanctuary have set up a library of ancient spell books and shadow tomes. They say you can access whatever you need through a dimensional portal.”
She laughed shortly, but there was no humor in it. “Sure. Dimensional portals. No problem. I’ll get right on it.” Shaking her head, she admitted, “I have no idea how to do that, Torin.”
“We’ll figure it out, Shea. Together.”
She studied him for a long minute. “There’s something else. What is it?”
“You may have another tracker on your body somewhere.”
She jolted and immediately slapped one hand to the back of her neck where they’d found the first chip.
“It won’t be there,” he said, moving across the room to her with long, purposeful strides.
“Then where?” She swept her own hands up and down her body as if just by looking for the damn thing she would find it.
“Rune says that Terri’s second tracker was discovered under her left breast.”
Shea’s arms instinctively came up over her breasts in a protective gesture that was as futile as it was understandable. “But they didn’t give me an injection there. I would have known . . .”
He hated seeing that look on her face. The expression that was both furious and filled with sorrow. If he could have, Torin would have returned to that prison where Shea had been held and torn it down brick by brick until there wasn’t a single stone left standing.
“They could have knocked you out for the procedure.”
“But I’d remember—”
“Not necessarily. If it’s there, Shea, we have to find it.”
Slowly, she lowered her arms, took a breath and bit down on her bottom lip. “I know. It’s just—never mind.”
He watched as different emotions raced across her face, each one appearing and disappearing so fast he could hardly identify them. But he felt her distress. Felt the tangle of fear and anger and grief knotting inside her. Torin didn’t want to admit that he might be the cause of her misery. “Don’t dismiss it. What’s bothering you? The fact that I killed those men who attacked you?”
She looked up at him and shook her head. “No. No, Torin. I know w
hy you did it. I just . . . hate all of this. I hate being hunted. I hate that I can’t remember what I need to. I hate feeling so out of control.”
Torin smiled. “I didn’t hear you say you hate me. I think we’re making progress.”
Shea laughed a little. “I never hated you, Torin. You scared the crap out of me, but I never hated you. And now . . .”
“Now?”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out,” he vowed. “I promise you. I will be with you through all of this. You can depend on me.”
“I know,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Shea, I have to find that tracker.”
She nodded, waved one hand in front of herself and instantly her clothes disappeared.
Hunger roared through him at the sight of her and he was pleased she had finally dispensed with her sense of modesty before him. Then he smiled, both at the view of her luscious naked body and at the display of her burgeoning control of her powers. “You’re getting better. Stronger.”
“Practice makes perfect,” she said on a choked-off laugh. “God, Torin, just find it.”
He moved in close, his gaze dropping to her left breast, where the mating tattoo was inexorably growing. The tiny red flames now formed a circle around her areola and were sweeping down in a delicate curve, following the swell of her breast and snaking toward her back, where they would eventually curve up and over her shoulder.
Pride filled him. This was his mark. The mark they had made together. And the shadow of her brand now stained his skin in the same pattern, proclaiming them a unit. Two halves of the same whole. His cock stirred, ready to claim her again. To coax more of those burning flames into life on her skin. To feel the heat of her pulling at him.
His fingertips traced the flames and he lifted his gaze to hers. He read a matching passion stirring in her emerald eyes and in response, his cock went to stone.
She reached up and held his hand to her breast, pushing herself into his touch and sighing at the cool glide of skin against skin.
Visions of Magic Page 17
