Visions of Magic

by Regan Hastings

  “Not gonna fight me, huh?” He grinned as if he’d just been given a present. “Good for you.”

  She smiled, reached up and laid two fingers against his forehead. He dropped like a stone and was snoring before he hit the ground.

  “Yes,” Shea said softly. “Good for me.”

  Chapter 36

  The moment Torin stepped into the motel room, he knew something was wrong.

  Gaze narrowed, he swept the small room thoroughly with one quick glance. Shea wasn’t there. He opened his senses to her, instantly dropped the bags of food he’d brought and flashed to her side in the middle of a moonlit meadow.

  “God!” She slapped one hand to her chest and staggered backward. “You scared the crap out of me!”

  He grabbed her and held her close, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her tight to his chest until the steady beat of her heart calmed the fury churning inside him.

  “How do you think I felt when I returned to the room and you were gone?” If he had had a beating heart, it would have stopped the moment he realized she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Now that they had mated, the protective instincts he felt for her were more all-encompassing than ever before.

  “I told you not to leave the room—” He stopped, looked down at the snoring man at her feet. “Who is that?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. He came up out of nowhere while I was drawing down the moon.”

  Torin gaped at her. “He saw you working a spell?”

  “Yes.”

  “Woman, do you have no idea of the dangerous cloud we exist under?”

  She pushed away from his grasp, folded her arms over her chest and said, “I know exactly what danger we’re in. Just as I know that unless I remember what we need to know, we’re not going to be able to complete this quest, or mission or whatever the hell it is.”

  “And you thought to regain that memory in public? Where anyone could see you?” While he was gone? When he thought of everything that might have happened to her without him at her side, it chilled him to the bone. “Do you trust me so little that you couldn’t wait until I returned? So that I could be with you? To guard you?”

  “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be with you.” She blew out a breath and shook her head. “This wasn’t about you, Torin. I felt the call of the moon and I went with it. I knew what I was doing. I knew the risks. I’m not some stupid heroine in a bad horror movie.”

  He pushed one hand through his long hair. “You took the same kind of chance those women invariably do.”

  “No, I didn’t,” she argued. “I’m not helpless. I can take care of myself.” She pointed at the man curled up in the grass, sound asleep. “There’s my proof.”

  Hating to admit she had a point, Torin was forced to acknowledge, at least privately, that she had managed to protect herself. Then he noticed the gun lying beside the sleeping man. “Did he threaten you?”

  “Of course he did, but I handled it,” she said, lifting her chin in a show of defiance.

  So she had. A mixture of pride and impatience battled inside him. She was coming into her own, but at the same time, he worried that she would become too confident. Take one chance too many. If she had made a mistake and this man had shot her—She wasn’t immortal yet. She could still die. And if the Awakening were stopped before it was complete, he would die with her. Soulless. Empty. There would be no eternity together. Not now. Not after finally experiencing a true union with her after so many centuries of solitude.

  “You should have told me when our minds connected,” he said.

  “You would have stopped me,” she answered.

  “Probably.”

  “You should be proud of me, not angry,” she said and he detected a slight quaver in her voice in spite of the brave front she was presenting. So the encounter with this nameless attacker had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. But even with her fear, she had maintained control of the situation. She had saved herself.

  “I am pleased you are well, Shea. And that you were able to dispatch that human.” He waved one hand at the snoring man in dismissal. “But striding into the unknown alone was a foolish choice.”

  She bristled, but better she be furious with him than dead.

  “I survived.”

  “This time.”

  “Torin . . .” She went to him and laid both hands on his forearms. Her touch soothed him instantly. “I know we’re in this together. I know you want to protect me. And I can promise I’ll be careful. But that’s all I can promise. If something needs doing, I’m going to do it. Okay?”

  No, he thought. It wasn’t okay with him that she put herself in danger. But he would find a way to protect her in spite of herself. Besides, the deed was done and now he needed to know what they could expect from the man once he woke up.

  “I can hear you thinking, you know,” she said softly. “You’re not protecting your thoughts.”

  “It’s just as well,” he snapped. “You should know what it does to me when you’re in danger.”

  She moved toward him and laid one hand on his broad chest. “I get it, Torin. But you have to know what it does to me to do nothing. To sit on the sidelines and let you take over.”

  “I’m not taking over. I’m protecting you.”

  “I need to know how to protect myself, too,” she reminded him.

  “You wouldn’t if you would listen to me,” he grumbled.

  Shea actually laughed and he had to smile at the sound of it. She was not going to be caged, he thought. Not by her pursuers. Not by him.

  Torin nodded at the man on the ground. “How long will he sleep?”

  “I’m not sure. A day. Maybe two.”

  A short laugh shot from his throat. He could well imagine the man’s consternation when he woke up. He would be confused and muddled and wondering when and how he had lost control of the situation. Torin knew that feeling himself. Trying to control Shea Jameson was an exercise in futility.

  “Will he remember you?” he asked quietly, looking at the man and wishing he were awake so Torin could vent some of the banked anger choking him.

  She frowned a bit. “Yes. I put him to sleep, but I didn’t know how to alter his memories.”

  Nodding, he made up his mind. “We will eat and then leave. We can’t risk him waking early. When he does rise, he’ll no doubt contact the authorities. And if he realizes who you are . . .”

  “I know,” she whispered, lifting her face into the wind. “But, Torin, I had to do it.” Her gaze met his, silently asking for understanding. His support. “I had to do what I could to find the answers we need.”

  He did understand. He didn’t like it one damn bit, but he understood the call of the moon to a witch. Knew that a woman like Shea would never be satisfied for long wandering in the darkness. She had a need to be in charge of her own life—and who was he to try to keep her from it?

  “Did you discover what you were searching for, Shea?” he asked, pulling her closer, ignoring the insensible mortal at his feet. “Did you find the truth?”

  “Yes,” she said, moving into him, snaking her arms around his middle. “I did. My memories are awake now. At least, most of them are. They’re just so jumbled together, I’ll need time to sort them out.”

  He rested his chin on top of her head and cradled her to him in a gentle embrace. “We still have time, Shea.”

  “Not enough,” she whispered. “Not enough.”

  The local chapter of Ohio Seekers met in the basement of a church.

  The big room was mostly used for bingo, but tonight balloons and streamers decorated the paneled walls for the upcoming Father-Daughter Dance. Tables and chairs were scattered around the room and a stereo had been set up in the corner for the DJ. Long buffet tables stood decorated, but empty of the food that would soon be delivered.

  The dance wouldn’t start for another two hours, so the Seekers had plenty of time for their emergency meeting.

  “I call this meet
ing to order!” The president, Martha Chapman, slapped her gavel against the dessert table for order.

  She looked out over the crowd and smiled to herself. They weren’t many, but they were proud. And determined. The handful of the righteous who showed up every week for the Seeker meeting were people she could count on. People she’d known most of her life.

  Her pastor, the local hairdresser and the best mechanic in Ohio among them. There were a few teenagers who had seen the light and her daughter’s pediatrician was attending his first meeting.

  “Please, everyone!” she called out, smacking the gavel again. She loved it when they all came to order and turned smiling faces toward her. “The caterers will be arriving in a half hour to set up for tonight’s big dance and there are a few things we have to go over before they get here.”

  The crowd subsided good-naturedly, eager to get on with the business of the evening.

  “First, I want to thank so many of you for turning out on such short notice. Clearly, our phone tree is working well and a big thank-you to Shauna for being in charge of that for us.” Martha applauded along with the crowd as her hairdresser took a bow.

  Then, still smiling, Martha said, “We have good news. According to reports from our sister organizations, the escaped witch is somewhere in Ohio right this very minute.”

  Excited whispers rushed across the room like a sweeping wave.

  “Do we know where exactly?” someone shouted out. “Ohio’s pretty big, Martha!”

  “Oh, Hank, hush now,” she chided, wagging her finger as if the burly firefighter were a naughty six-year-old. “Would I come here and not have information to spread? Now, the word is, she and the man with her—”

  “The guy made out of fire?”

  “Yes, Tessie, him,” Martha said, frowning at the interruption by the head cheerleader. “They were last seen in a motel just outside Brecksville.”

  “Why, that’s no more than twenty miles from here!”

  “Exactly!” Martha grinned, pleased that they were as anxious as she to prove themselves worthy of their Seeker charter. “Now, what do you say? Why don’t we go catch that witch and turn her over to Dr. Fender?”

  “Isn’t there a fat reward on her?” one of the teenagers wistfully asked.

  “Yes, Christopher, there is,” Martha said, her tone ringing with disappointment. “But only if you turn her in to the authorities and we don’t want that, do we?”

  Suitably chastened, Christopher shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

  “Remember now,” she said, turning her attention to the whole crowd again. “We don’t do this for the rewards, but for the satisfaction of doing God’s work. What we do, we do for humanity. For society. For God.”

  Cheers erupted and Martha basked in the appreciation for a long minute. With the threat of witchcraft taking over the world, Martha had finally found her voice. Most of her life she’d felt a little less than she wanted to be. As a child, she’d planned to do great things, but somehow, getting married and having babies had stolen her life and her dreams away.

  Now, at long last, she was getting the chance to effect real change in the world. She was making a difference. Standing up for the rights of ordinary people. She was doing what she could to make the world a safer place for her children and grandchildren. And the pride she felt swelled inside her until she thought she might bust.

  “Now,” Martha told them all, “Dr. Fender really wants this one particular witch. The scientific parts always confuse me no end, but he seems to think this witch is special. At any rate, she and the others like her may be the key to finally finding a way to drain all of their powers.”

  “And give them to us, right?” Tony, the owner of the Italian restaurant in town, asked.

  “That’s right, Tony.” Martha beamed at him and imagined one day holding the power to defend her town and country. “Once we drain the witches, the righteous will be gifted with the powers taken from their dark souls.”

  “Isn’t that, um, dangerous?” Tessie spoke up again. “I mean, if they’re dark powers, wouldn’t they turn us dark, too?”

  Martha stepped down from the dais, walked to the teenager and cupped the girl’s chin in her hand. Here was another soul she was influencing. Helping along the righteous path.

  “Not at all, sweetie,” she said. “Why, when those powers are torn from the Godless and given to True Believers . . .” She paused and let the light of her zealous gaze sweep across the faces of her friends and neighbors. Let them see the glory of what they were doing. Feel the importance of the task they’d been assigned. This could be the most significant night of their lives. She smiled at each of them in turn, showing them all how proud she was to serve with them, how sure she was that they would be victorious. “Why, when this night’s work is done, we will be true warriors of the Lord. We will be instruments of His peace.”

  “Amen,” someone murmured and a smattering of applause broke out.

  “And always remember, sweetheart,” Martha said, looking down into Tessie’s wide blue eyes. “You’re on the side of right in this. Why, the Bible itself tells us, You shall not suffer a witch to live. Now, the Lord couldn’t have been more clear in His instructions, could He?”

  “I guess not,” Tessie whispered.

  Martha patted her on the shoulder and softly added, “We’re doing God’s work here, Tessie, each and every one of us—and don’t you ever forget it.”

  “No, ma’am,” the girl answered.

  Caterers bustled in, carrying steam trays, sending the scent of barbecued chicken and potatoes and gravy into the air.

  “My,” Martha said, “that does smell good, doesn’t it?” Then, clapping her hands, she smiled and added, “Now, I don’t know about you all, but I’ve got a pot roast in the oven at home. So what do you say we go and get that witch so none of us is late for supper?”

  Chapter 37

  Shea sat at the foot of the bed and propped her face in her hands. She didn’t like sensing Torin’s frustration with her actions. His anger at being shut out of her decision. But they were both just going to have to live with it. She’d done what needed doing and she’d lived through it. Time to move on.

  She listened to the sound of the shower and thought about joining Torin in the bathroom. But she discounted that idea a second or two later. They had to leave and if she went in there with him, it might be hours before they got moving again.

  So instead she rifled through her newfound memories. As she’d told Torin, they were all so jumbled up together, centuries of them, it was going to take her some time to find the one they needed most. Shea knew he was waiting for her to tell him where they had to go. To have the vision. To awaken the memory that would give them direction. Speed them on the path toward straightening out this mess.

  But so far she had nothing.

  Shaking her head, she grabbed the TV remote and flicked it on, hoping for a mindless sitcom.

  Naturally, the news popped on. Before she could change the channel, she was drawn into the report. On her.

  “Shea Jameson has been missing now for two weeks.” The camera shifted to show the yard at Terminal Island and the hundred or so women still trapped at the prison. The reporter did a voice-over the images. “An investigation into the escape is ongoing and BOW has been called in to assist. When questioned by this reporter, Warden Salinger insisted that this incident was a rarity and that his prison remains no threat to the general population.”

  Shea’s stomach churned as she watched the prison guards in their towers pointing guns down at the women inmates as they walked aimlessly around the yard.

  “Warden Salinger further states that magic was used to spirit away the missing witches and that he and his men were helpless to defend against it.”

  “Probably not a good idea to advertise that,” Shea murmured, then stopped when her picture flashed on the screen. They were using her driver’s license picture, so she looked hideous, but she was recognizable.

 
; She watched the screen as the reporter gave her description to the audience. Nervously, she ran her fingers through her long red hair and winced. She had tried cutting off several inches and dying it dark brown—as she had done so long ago when she’d been alone and on the run. But it hadn’t worked this time. By the following morning, her hair was down to the middle of her back again and the dark auburn color had replaced the indeterminate brown. It seemed that her Awakening powers were making it impossible to change her hair. Of course, once she got better with her powers, maybe she could try making a change magically.

  Disgusted, she flicked the TV off, stood up and paced. If she added up all the steps she’d taken in aimless pacing over the last week or so, she probably could have walked around the world.

  So instead she decided to channel her energies into a spell she had studied in the ancient Sanctuary book. If the whole world was looking for her, it was time she did a little searching herself.

  She stretched out on the bed, stared up at the ceiling for long, quiet moments and let her mind go blank. She relaxed, counting each soft breath until her body was limp and her soul was lifting from her body. With astral projection, she focused on finding that woman she’d glimpsed once before in a scrying mirror.

  Her spirit flew, unfettered, through a starry night, past homes with people tucked inside. She was a part of the night and yet separate. She searched for one woman in the masses. When she heard the the whispered chant, Shea turned, sweeping unerringly toward her goal.

  Her mind searched while her body lay still on the bed, an empty shell. Bright lights pulled at her; the chanting voice became more distinct.

  A woman sat alone in a dark room, features obscured by shadows thrown by the flames of a dozen white candles. White, Shea thought, for purification and protection rituals.

  “I feel you,” the woman said, head bent over the dancing flames. “You shouldn’t have come.”

  “Why are you after me?” Shea asked, fighting to keep the connection with this woman. “It was you who sent those men who burned down the motel, wasn’t it?”