Circle of Dreams (The Quytel Series Book 1)

by Jane S. Morrissey

  “See that nothing happens to either of you first,” she shot back, ushering them out of the room.

  Cole gave her a small salute and turned to the Warrior, focusing his mind, clearing it so the only thing in his awareness was the upcoming battle. “What are we up against?”

  “Seven coming in strong and fully armed. How good a shot are you?” He tossed Cole a small earpiece and a remote battery pack.

  “I’m not a trained sniper.” He caught them in midair. “I can hold my own at a distance. I’ll be upstairs.”

  “No prisoners. Kill shots if you can take them,” Mack told him, checking his weapons.

  Bri’s shocked inhalation made them both pause. She watched with large green eyes clouded by confusion.

  “They will not stop coming after you,” Mack said patiently.

  “I know.” She paled, impossibly white. “I’m okay.”

  Mack gave her a brief nod, shoving Cole out of the room in front of him. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

  Cole took off for the stairs at a run, tucking the earpiece securely in place. He positioned himself in one of the upstairs bedrooms that provided a full view of the front of the house. The place had been built into a hillside and was nearly inaccessible from one side. They had a good chance of catching nearly any attackers approaching from the front. The scope of Mack’s long-range rifle to his eye, he searched the forest for movement.

  “In position,” he said into his earpiece.

  The brightness of the morning made it difficult for his sight to penetrate the dense forest beyond the tree line. He sought inside himself for his connection to the earth. Deep green rays of light spread out to encompass the entire area. Information flooded back to him of paths recently tread, injuries to trees and other plants. Every footstep taken in the surrounding area within the last twenty-four hours implanted a map in his brain.

  The wolf rose in perfect unison with him this time, enhancing his sense of sight. When Cole looked through the scope again, he sensed each position and waited for them to show themselves.

  “Seven, you say?” Cole asked into the earpiece.

  “Seven,” Mack confirmed, his voice as clear as if they stood side-by-side.

  Far in the distance a lone figure moved in fast, weaving through trees and sticking to the foliage, making it nearly impossible to get a clean shot. Cole fired, and the man dropped like a stone.

  “Six,” he reported, already searching for the next target. A gun went off below and another body fell out of a nearby tree.

  An explosion suddenly lit the sky and rocked the house on its foundation as a fireball consumed Mack’s car. Red and orange flames licked the side of the house, and thick black smoke choked the air; one means of escape effectively eliminated. They’d been able to get close. Given Mack’s psychic abilities and everything Cole had learned about the powerful Quytel, it meant they were dealing with a formidable enemy.

  Silence stretched in the aftermath of the explosion. Suddenly the advancing five men froze like statues. With automatic weapons raised, they had taken aim at the house, at him. He could almost see the wildness of their eyes, when nothing else moved.

  Mack stepped out of the front door into plain view, and Cole held his breath.

  “What did you do to them?” he asked into the earpiece, finding such a raw display of power unsettling.

  “It’s a holding spell, a Warrior’s weapon.” Mack approached the paralyzed men held at the tree line.

  “How long do we have?”

  “As long as I need,” came the reply.

  The house shuddered with the force of the explosion. Bri stumbled and dropped to her hands and knees, hiding behind the couch in the living room. Very brave, she admonished.

  She’d reported on these kinds of stories, had been on the scene at the aftermath of disaster and carnage. Being in the middle of it made it insanely difficult to focus, as she tried not to choke on her own fear. This was too close, too real. Death had met them with the first two shots she’d heard. She stared down at the gun in her hand. It shook. Perfect.

  She couldn’t see a damn thing from her hiding place. Bri cursed herself for being such a coward. These attackers were here for her, putting people she cared about at risk. The least she could do was stand and fight with them.

  Jonah had told her she had dangerous latent psychic abilities. Maybe she could help. She had no idea what she could do or how to access her power, but she had to try. Huddled behind the couch in the eerie aftermath of the explosion, her heart beat like an erratic drummer in her chest. She closed her eyes and attempted to block out everything except for the potential of her power.

  Focusing on breathing in and out, in and out, she imagined a vast well of untapped power within her that she could draw on to help Mack and Cole. Maybe she’d trick her mind into not being afraid. Into being powerful. What was her ability? How could she find it? Bri recalled a book she’d read a few years ago about meditation and maintaining a beginner’s mind, curious and open.

  A volley of shots rang out, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Breathe! She forced her mind to focus on the steady stream of air going in and out of her lungs. Fear slid behind an iron wall in her mind, and there was stillness, silence. The only remaining thoughts were simple questions. What is my power and where can I find it?

  Repeating the mantra in her mind, she blocked out any other thought, any other emotion, anything happening around her.

  A bright orange spark appeared on the horizon of her mind. It expanded quickly, a brilliant sunset of reds and pinks. A richness that spoke of history and wisdom, the very fabric of time and space opening to her. Raw, unadulterated power drew her like a magnet. In her mind’s eye, Bri reached out to touch it.

  A black cloud instantly floated in front of her, blotting out the array of colors, creating a murky haze blurring her vision and dulling her senses. Floundering blindly toward the sunset, a sharp jab of pain shot up her arm and through her body.

  Gasping for air, she slid into unconsciousness.

  From his vantage point at the upstairs window, Cole watched Mack move out in front of the house. He walked slowly toward the first man partially exposed at the edge of the tree line, standing stiffly as if trapped in his own body. Through the scope, Cole saw the man’s eyes dart from side to side—the only part of his body he could move. He was a big man, probably used to inflicting pain, being the one in control and liking it. Cole had faced down his type before, a bully with a gun.

  Even from a distance, he could smell the noxious stink of fear rolling off their attackers.

  “What did you come for?” Mack asked the man, his low voice clear in Cole’s earpiece. Holding several armed men in a trance was a damned useful talent. Having felt the brush of Jonah’s power, he could only imagine the extent of Mack’s abilities.

  The Warrior lifted his hand in front of the man’s face, and he crumpled like a deflated lawn ornament. Cole knew in an instant he was dead. The remaining few did too. They were sitting ducks, waiting for Mack’s terrible justice to touch them. Of the two he could see, one had positioned himself up in a tree with a sniper rifle. The other had been making his way to the house from the other side and had been frozen in a running crouch, half concealed by a wide tree trunk.

  Cole felt it then, another approaching from above, somehow not affected by Mack’s holding spell.

  “We’ve got company,” he warned, too late. Whoever was on top of the house blasted a round of machine gun fire along Mack’s spine, piercing lungs and heart. The Warrior’s body was suddenly riddled with bullet holes, blood pooling at his feet.

  Mack fell to his knees and toppled over face first in the dirt. The men were freed from the holding spell the moment he hit the ground. Cole took advantage of their disorientation and aimed. One of the remaining four droppe
d dead close to where Mack had fallen, a bullet through the center of his skull. He maimed a second, hitting him high on his shoulder, and missed the third, who managed to duck behind a large tree just as a bullet smashed into the place where his head had been a split second before.

  Incredibly, Mack moved. He rolled over and fired, killing the one Cole had wounded. The remaining two ran into the deeper woods and out of sight.

  “Mack. Talk to me,” Cole ordered into the small microphone connected to his earpiece. So much for being an immortal Warrior—who could survive that kind of an attack and keep moving? The pain must be excruciating.

  Cole headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time on his way to the roof.

  “Bloody hell.” Mack’s voice was weak and thready in Cole’s ear.

  “How bad is it?” Cole asked.

  “I’ll live,” he assured. “Get the bastard on the roof.”

  “I’m on it.” Cole wasn’t sure anyone could live through that. Mack’s massive strength had helped him, but the man had taken at least fifteen bullets to the back and was losing blood fast. Cole hurried to the rear of the house, hoping to find easy access to the roof. The gunman had some kind of power, or he wouldn’t have been able to escape Mack’s magic. He needed to be careful.

  Slinging the gun over his shoulder and kicking off his shoes, Cole climbed out of one of the upstairs bedroom windows on the second floor. He paused and scented the air. At once the tangy metallic smell of blood assailed his senses. It was a short climb up the side of the house, and the muscles in his arms and legs strained with the effort to lift his body up and over the gutter in silence.

  Peeking over the pitch of the roof, he saw a man sprawled across the far slope, blood seeping from a chest wound that had barely missed his heart. Even half-dead, Mack was a damned good shot. The man held onto an exhaust pipe with one hand to keep from sliding off. When he saw Cole, he raised his other hand and aimed his pistol straight at Cole’s head.

  The wolf was more than ready. Cole shifted from squatting to a graceful, deadly leap in less than five seconds, shredding his clothes in the process. The handgun cracked, and a bullet grazed his shoulder, singeing fur without doing any real damage. Embracing the transformation, he landed two feet from the man, pinning him with sharp claws and an impressive display of teeth.

  Growling in the back of his throat, Cole concentrated on his human face, knowing the man would not live to tell anyone the tale of the terrifying half-man, half-wolf who attacked him.

  Cole had no patience for this criminal. He’d gunned a man down from behind and would kill Bri, or worse, if given half a chance. He trapped the man under powerful claws, piercing skin, an enormous black and silver wolf with the head of a man.

  “Your friends are dead. Whatever you came for you didn’t find. Tell me what you want and who sent you,” he snarled.

  The man tried to sneer, drooling instead because he couldn’t control it. “Go to hell,” he got out between painful gasps of air.

  Cole applied pressure with his claws. “Clever will only get you killed faster.”

  “I’m ready to die.” He coughed, drawing his last precious breath. “Are you?”

  The man was already dead, life seeping away from the gaping wound in his chest. “Who sent you?” Cole shook him.

  A twisted smile curved the gunman’s lips, blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes rolled up. Cole completed the shift to his human form and searched the assailant’s pockets for any identifying information. Finding nothing, he pushed away in disgust.

  The battlefield was quiet now. The only remaining two were probably on their way to their leader. And they would return stronger next time.

  Crawling carefully over the railing, he swung himself through the upstairs window, treading quickly downstairs. The scent of lavender and jasmine-uniquely Bri-would lead him right to her. He didn’t question the driving need he had to make sure she was safe.

  “Bri,” he called softly into the living room where her scent was the strongest.

  A soft groan drew his attention and the pearl did a tap dance on his diaphragm. Rushing around the couch, he caught the sight of Bri lying flat on her back.

  Heart in his throat, he moved instantly to her side, searching her body for wounds. The men had been careful not to shoot blindly at the house. They’d been there to capture Bri, no question, and had planned on taking out her protection to do it.

  Although he saw no visible wounds, she remained semiconscious. He lifted her limp body in his arms, and green eyes flew open. She started to struggle, flailing.

  “Shh, Bri.” He held her tight against his chest. “It’s me. It’s Cole.”

  Her gaze locked on his, and she shuddered before relaxing against him.

  “What happened?” She tried to sit up but swayed and rubbed her temples as if in pain. “Where’s Mack?”

  “Let’s start with what happened to you.” If there was someone else in the house, he needed to know and take out the threat before he could check on Mack. He hoped the Warrior could hold on a little longer. “Who knocked you out?”

  A blush crept into her cheeks and she muttered, “It’s a long story. Help me up.”

  He cushioned her shoulders and gripped her hand to help her stand. “Easy there,” he said, steadying her, noting how pale and shaky she was.

  She stiffened and pulled away from him, grabbing the edge of the couch for support. “Why are you naked?”

  Cole glanced down. In his haste to find Bri, he’d completely forgotten about his clothes.

  “Occupational hazard,” he responded with a casual lift of his shoulder. If they spent any time together, she’d have to get used to it. “I need to check on Mack. Who did this to you?”

  “What happened to him?”

  “What happened to you?” he countered.

  She gave an exasperated sigh and straightened, eyes shooting sparks. Good. She must be feeling better.

  “I did it to myself, okay?” she blurted in a rush. “Now, where is Mack?”

  When Cole frowned in question, a blush crept up her cheeks. “I’ll explain later. There isn’t anyone else in here that I’m aware of.”

  Laying his hand on her shoulder, he prepared her for the worst. “I’m sorry. He got hit pretty bad and went down hard.”

  On a sharp inhale, Bri shrugged off his hand, all business. “I’ll get the first-aid kit. Where is he?”

  “By the tree line,” Cole told her. “I’ll meet you out there.”

  Cole had turned away, leaping into the body of the wolf and in one smooth movement landed on four padded feet. He crossed the room in ground-eating strides, running out the front door before Bri could take her next breath. His power and speed were astonishing. She was in the presence of something so magical, she could have wept with the beauty of it.

  The memory of her own power flashed across her mind on a wave of nausea, startling her. She almost stumbled at the possibility, both beautiful and dangerous, masked by something she couldn’t explain. What kind of a world did she really live in?

  Massaging her throbbing temples, Bri reminded herself to focus. Mack was in trouble. She would have to think about her own problems another time. So much for all his talk about being immortal, damn it. He’d better be okay. She refused to consider any other possibility.

  Running upstairs as fast as she could, she found the well-stocked medical kit she’d tucked away in one of the linen closets years ago. She also grabbed a stack of clean towels. Passing Mack’s room on her way downstairs, she snagged a pair of his dark jeans lying over the back of the chair and pulled a black crew shirt out of his bag. She’d find it incredibly difficult to concentrate with a naked Cole glancing over her shoulder.

  She rushed down the stairs with an armful of supplies. Opening the
front door was a balancing act that tested her patience. She came to an abrupt halt at the scene in the yard, her stomach rebelling at the carnage.

  Two dead bodies lay about fifty feet from the house and another two closer to the tree line. What was left of the metal frame of Mack’s car in the driveway emitted an intense amount of heat as it smoldered in the aftermath of the explosion that had torn it apart.

  He was out there, wounded, and she needed to get to him. Forcing one foot in front of the other, Bri shuddered as she walked within feet of a body, one eye wide open in shock, the other gone. A bullet had blown right through it.

  The reality of the danger surrounding them settled into a hard knot in her stomach. Somehow it galvanized her into action. She wouldn’t sit by while this crazy mage kept attacking her. Anton. She didn’t care how powerful he was. She would fight him and win. He wanted that brilliant sunset of power inside her, and she was determined to figure out what it was and how to use it before he did.

  She spotted movement in the deeper brush on the side of the road and froze.

  “Cole?” she called out, careful not to raise her voice too much so it wouldn’t carry through the woods.

  “Over here,” came the muffled reply. “I’ve got him.”

  Moving in the direction of his voice as quickly as she could with her arms full, she spotted Cole emerging from behind a large tree. He stood tall and proud and gloriously naked—all roped muscle, well endowed. He wore his nudity easily.

  Even with worry for Mack pounding a staccato beat in her sternum, her body leapt at the sight. Embarrassed by her reaction, Bri awkwardly pulled Mack’s jeans from the pile of towels in her arms and tossed them to Cole.

  “Thanks.” He gave her a grim smile, snatching them out of the air and pulling them on over his slender hips.

  She couldn’t avert her eyes; he was just too good looking and distracting. When he took the towels and medical kit from her, she caught his spicy masculine scent mixed with the metallic tang of blood.