Embrace of the Damned

by Bast, Anya

  The ice-cold fissure that had sat in the center of his chest had begun to melt and heal the moment she’d entered his life. Now that she was gone, it was reclaiming him, inch by agonizing inch. It was like a black hole in the middle of him, slowly consuming all the humanity he’d found again.

  “We need to leave her be,” Broder repeated in a low, pain-filled voice. “We should leave her be, but I can’t.” He paused, expecting another outburst from Erik, but it never came. “I’m going after her.”

  “Loki will burn you alive.”

  It wasn’t a euphemism; Erik meant it literally. Loki could transport them to any number of realms, other than Asgard, for purposes of punishment.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time. I need to go after her, doesn’t matter the cost. Let Loki burn me for a century in the fire pits, it will be worth it.” He threw the letter onto the coffee table, then turned and stalked into the foyer, heading for his bike.

  “Broder.”

  He halted in the frame of the front door. Erik had followed him into the foyer. Broder didn’t turn to face him, forcing Erik to speak to his back.

  “You have no future with Jessa. She knows that and so do you. It’s why she left. She made it clear in her note. She’ll want to stay with her people and, for once, I agree with Loki. She’s where she needs to be no matter how much you may not like it. You’re sacrificing yourself for nothing.”

  Broder didn’t answer. Erik knew Broder was well aware of this fact. That didn’t stop the drive he had to make Jessa his, no matter what. And that was something that Erik couldn’t understand.

  Broder turned to face him.

  Erik saw his response in his expression and dropped his head in defeat. “The enclave is hidden by magick. You’ll never find it, not without help, and I can’t give you any.”

  “I’ll find it.”

  Erik let out a low, slow breath. “I’m headed back to D.C. Good luck, brother.”

  And Broder was gone.

  TWENTY-THREE

  They gave Jessa a large bedroom on the second floor, decorated in grays and pinks. After Jessa had cleaned up and changed her clothes, an interesting witch named Molly showed her around the house. At least, part of the house. Jessa was pretty sure she would need a decade to explore the whole thing. It had been built over the course of centuries and she could see the sections that were older.

  Molly, who was exuberant and friendly and said everything that popped into her head as soon as it popped there, showed Jessa where the dining room was and where she should report for her training, which was to begin the next day.

  By twilight, Molly and Jessa were the best of friends. Jessa was grateful to have her and was sorry to see her leave. Once the darkness of twilight closed in around her and mixed with the silence of her bedroom, her misgivings began to push up from the recesses of her mind.

  She missed Broder.

  Yet every time she thought about going back to him, she immediately shivered and realized it was a bad idea. This was for the best. It really was. She was where she needed to be and Broder was not where he should be, but there was no help for that.

  Still, she didn’t sleep at all. Not even after a hot shower and slipping into a pair of the softest pj’s that had ever touched her skin. Not after a cup of delicious noncaffeinated tea that Thorgest had sent up for her. Not even after climbing into the sumptuous, soft four-poster bed and covering herself with the coziest down comforter.

  Nothing could make her drift off to dreamland. There was something wrong, bad wrong, something more than just the fact that Broder was not at her side. She couldn’t figure out what it was. It pulsed softly just outside her field of awareness and every time she made a grab for it, it slipped through her fingers like water.

  It was probably just angst from leaving Broder. Thinking about that brought pain, so she pushed it away and made herself busy thinking of other things. Like not getting lost in this enormous building.

  She made her way down the narrow set of stairs at the end of the corridor where her room was located and into the main kitchen. It was very early. Since she hadn’t been able to sleep, she had decided just to get up and get on with her day. Maybe she was just excited about being here, excited about finally tapping the talent she had inside her. Maybe that was the source of her unease. After all, even good stress was stress. That was what Aunt Margaret always used to say.

  Moving through the empty kitchen, she followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee, found a mug, and poured herself a big serving. Leaning back against the counter, she took a sip of the lovely hot, sugared drink and groaned with pleasure. Sweet, sweet caffeine. There was nothing better than that in the morning … unless it was waking up next to the man you loved.

  But she’d promised herself not to think about him.

  “Good morning, Jessa.”

  She jerked, startled, and glanced over to find Carolyn sitting at one of the tables. “I didn’t see you there. Good morning, Carolyn.”

  “Sleep well?” Carolyn had a cup of coffee sitting in front of her, too.

  Jessa walked over and sat down next to her. “Not really.”

  “Well, lots of changes. After today you’ll be so exhausted you’ll sleep like a baby.”

  “What’s today?”

  Carolyn smiled. “First day of training.” She spotted her pendant, leaned forward, and picked up the dragonfly. “Your sigil is a dragonfly?”

  Jessa nodded and slipped the charm from the other woman’s fingers, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. She didn’t want Carolyn touching it for some reason she couldn’t quite determine.

  “Did you get that from your aunt Margaret?”

  “No, Broder gave it to me.”

  Carolyn’s smile faded and her expression took on a sour look. “Oh.”

  Jessa tilted her head to the side. “Why do you all hate him so much?”

  Carolyn looked down at the table. “It’s not my place to say.”

  A flare of anger burst through her veins, making her narrow her eyes and lending an edge to her voice. “Then whose would it be?”

  “Ask Thorgest. He’ll tell you all about it.”

  Jessa exhaled slowly and looked away from her, a little shiver running through her. “I’m sure you all must have a good reason.”

  “Oh”—Carolyn leveled her gaze at her—“we do.” She eyed the pendant. “Once you find out, you’ll throw that into the trash. Why don’t you do it right now, save yourself a little heartbreak?”

  Another shiver, stronger this time. Jessa clenched the dragonfly in her hand as though trying to hold on to something precious that was rapidly slipping away. She gripped it so hard the points of the wings dug painfully into her skin. “I’m reserving judgment until I hear the story.”

  Carolyn shrugged. “Fine.” She stood. “You’ll need something to practice on anyway. Ready to go?”

  Jessa took a final sip of her coffee and stood. “I can’t wait to get started.”

  Her great-aunt took her to a room filled with tables, cabinets, stoves, and all sorts of bowls, mixers, test tubes, and cooking implements. It looked like an evil scientist’s lab. She told Jessa there were five such rooms in the enclave, but she’d reserved this one for their personal use.

  They spent the morning cooking up spells and imbuing Jessa’s talisman with them, layer after layer of spells. The process was similar to the one she’d used on her own at Broder’s keep, using the papers he’d brought her as instruction. But this time, either because she was with her people in the enclave or because she had a little practice under her belt, it all came easier to her.

  This magick was in her blood. It bubbled up from the depths of her. It was as if she’d found a piece of herself that had been missing, that piece that had made her out of step with most of the people she’d ever known, the piece that had made her feel like an outcast from her own life.

  Now she understood why she’d always been the outsider. Now that she’d found her people, her
magick, all that was over. The broken shards were mended. She was whole, seamless, complete.

  In that room with her great-aunt Carolyn, she felt better than she had, perhaps, ever, with the exception of the time she’d spent in Broder’s arms. Yet every time she thought of him, an odd sensation came over her and her emotions turned away. It was a coping strategy, maybe. Heaven knew, she needed one to deal with his loss. An insulation had formed between her and thoughts of him and she was happy to have it.

  Anyway, it was of no matter. What was really important right now was the magick, the enclave, the seidhr. She loved it here so much that she was certain she would devote the rest of her life to this place, her people. Her mind was focused on that, her new goal.

  Even though the charms she and Carolyn layered the talisman with were silly, harmless ones, charms to throw iridescent rainbows across the room, light a candle from ten feet away, or make the limbs of a tree seem to dance, a sense of power filled Jessa. Soon a light filled her eyes and her cheeks glowed a bright healthy pink.

  Every time she caught sight of herself in the large mirror hanging on one wall, she barely recognized herself. Never had the woman she saw in the reflection been this satisfied or excited by a possibility for her future. She’d come late to her magick, but she had the rest of her very long life to breathe life into it.

  By early afternoon, she was a woman obsessed, absorbing every tidbit and pointer that Carolyn offered her. She was smudged with eleven different kinds of flower dust, coated in mashed and grated minerals, and smeared with various other arcane ingredients she never would have predicted would ever lie in her hands … or be used to concoct a spell.

  She kept putting off Carolyn when she suggested breaks. She wanted to learn everything in a day, it seemed.

  Little by little, Broder completely slipped away.

  Roan watched at Thorgest’s side through the two-way mirror. Jessa seemed to have no idea she was being watched. She was consumed—obsessed—with the work at hand. From what he’d observed, she had a natural inclination for the magick, not unexpected considering her lineage. Yet she still needed a considerable amount of tutelage if she expected to make anything of herself as a witch.

  “She’ll make a fine leader,” Thorgest said, leaning up against the counter in front of the mirror. “The woman has talent seeping from her very pores, just like every other Egilson to come before her.”

  Roan nodded. Rubbing his chin, he stared at her, marveling at how much she looked like Abigail.

  “Next she’ll have a session with Sam,” Thorgest said almost to himself. “She and Sam would make a good match. A strong shaman mated to a strong witch. Their babies would be powerful, and assets to our line.”

  Roan stiffened. “No more matchmaking. You’ve already interfered in her life enough. You can’t treat your people as if they’re brood mares and studs.” His thoughts drifted to Abigail and his perverse desire years ago that Thorgest’s machinations would work in his case. All they had done was drive Thorgest’s granddaughter away from the enclave, and perhaps eventually led to her death.

  “It’ll be for her own good, Roan,” Thorgest mumbled to himself as he watched Jessa through the mirror. “All of this is, and ye know it. Anyway, there’s much she can learn from Sam.”

  Roan said nothing.

  Thorgest turned toward him, perhaps sensing the derision and disapproval to which Roan wasn’t giving voice. “Do ye have a problem with my plans?”

  Roan shifted on his feet and stared past Thorgest, out at Jessa. “I think she craves to find her place, her family. I think she needs to know where she belongs and that people care about her.” He paused. “I think if she ever knew how she was being used and the reason why she’s here, she would run screaming from this place.”

  Thorgest snorted. “Years later, I find myself relieved Abigail ran away from ye, Roan. What a sorry, weak shaman ye turned out to be.” Then he strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Broder eased his motorcycle down another narrow road in the northernmost portion of the Scottish Highlands. Rain fell in a steady beat from the heavy, iron-colored clouds. It didn’t matter; he couldn’t get any more soaked than he already was.

  It had been two days of this. Two days of rain. Two days of searching for the magickally hidden seidhr enclave.

  He pulled the bike over to the side of the road at the top of a high hill and stared out across the landscape. Rain ran down his face in rivulets, obscuring his vision.

  Erik had clearly thought this endeavor hopeless, but Broder couldn’t make himself stop hunting for her. There had to be a way to locate her. After all, Loki hadn’t thought it was hopeless. If he had, he would have laughed off the possibility that Broder was going after Jessa. Instead he’d threatened him.

  That meant he could find her. He wasn’t going to stop until he did.

  Wiping a hand across his face, he looked behind him at the sound of a car engine. A small, beat-up white Renault was approaching. It pulled up behind him and the driver rolled down the window.

  “Lost then, are ye?” The old man squinted at him. “Yer about a thousand clicks from the nearest town.”

  “Not lost. Looking for somewhere.” Someone was more accurate, but that would sound too odd.

  “Whereabouts?”

  Broder slicked the rain from his hair with one hand, trying to figure out how to answer that question. “I got it under control. Thanks.”

  “Aye.” The old man’s gaze flicked up and down his rain-drenched leathers. “Looks like ye do.” Broder recognized sarcasm when he heard it.

  He started to roll his window up, but Broder decided at the last minute to ask the old guy for help. He lived here. Maybe he could offer a clue. “Know of any garbage dumps near here? Any places with strewn trash? It would be a place not many people would want to go; it would give off a creepy kind of feel. Maybe some people might say it’s haunted.” He knew he sounded like an idiot to human ears, but he didn’t care.

  Other than the magickally induced propensity for people to avoid the area where the enclave was located, it was masked as a garbage-strewn place, meant to keep wandering humans away. There were far more strenuous wards in place for Blight, but those didn’t affect the Brotherhood.

  The old man thought for a long moment, then he nodded. “Aye.” He pointed off to the west. “Take this road to the A109, then follow the signs to Galhanscrieg. Drive about fifteen clicks to the north, away from the town. Ye’ll come to a place like ye’re describing.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Want a ride? It’ll get ye out of the rain.”

  “No, I’d rather take my bike.”

  The man tipped his imaginary hat at him, grinned toothlessly, and started down the road again.

  Broder watched the car ramble away. He hoped like hell this was the break he needed.

  The rain pattered softly on the huge windows in the room, windows so big they covered almost the whole of two walls. Jessa felt like a turtle in a terrarium. One of the windows was open, for reasons she couldn’t determine, letting in a fresh rain-scented breeze.

  This was one of the many sitting/meeting rooms in the enclave and where Sam had said he wanted to meet her. Small clusters of couches, tables, and chairs scattered the large room, but it was empty save for both of them.

  Sam was awesomely good-looking. His sandy-colored hair fell across his forehead and made his blue eyes seem even bluer. Those eyes were heavy lidded most of the time, and his voice was something like warmed whiskey, making him seem like he had sex on his mind. Really good sex. He was like candy, but, although she noted the man’s sexiness, she had no interest in him.

  No man could hold a candle to Broder and it would be a long time before she would try to find one who could even come close, and Thorgest pushing her at Sam wasn’t going to work. She could see right through her great-grandfather and she didn’t like it.

  Staring out the window for a moment, her thoughts drifted, dangerously
, back to the keep. What was she doing here? Why hadn’t she soaked up every second she could with Broder? It didn’t make sense that she hadn’t stayed in the keep until the very end, done everything she could in order to keep him with her. Why had she made the decision to leave again? Why had—

  “Jessa?”

  She shivered and turned toward Sam. “Sorry.”

  “You were a million miles away.”

  “Right. Okay, I’m focused now.”

  “Good.”

  He turned his back and walked to the nearby window, unlatched it, and threw it wide. Rain-scented fresh air burst into the room. “Shamanism is a little different in execution from witchcraft.” He spoke with his back turned toward her. “But the magick is much the same. There is one major difference, however.” He held his hand to the side and she saw a small silver ball glinting there.