Amanda rose from her seat and came over to Kyle’s side of the table. She pushed on his shoulder until he shifted his chair back, giving her room to sit in his lap. She sat across his legs and wrapped her arm around his neck, giving him a tender kiss.
“See, now you’re being supportive,” she said, putting her forehead against his. “And you really are such a nerd.”
Kyle angled his head for another warm kiss. When their lips parted, Amanda tilted up an eyebrow questioningly, invitingly. “Wanna go back upstairs for a little while?”
Kyle squeezed her close. “I like where your emotions are taking this conversation.”
Chapter 3
Dominance
Adolphus Rutlinger, alpha werewolf of the Selkirk Pack and founder of the Rutlinger Foundation, stared into his glass of wine, enjoying the play of light on the crystal goblet and the luster of the dark-red translucent liquid that swirled within. The soporific fog that dulled his emotions and warped his senses was a clue that he had been drinking too much.
His alcohol consumption had increased when Pack member Iledaste, the werewolf formerly known in human form as Clarissa, had been sent howling back into the abyss a month ago. The loss and its implications had left the entire Pack depressed and restless.
The little witch Amanda had surprised them all. After her first attempt to exorcise Iledaste from the body of Kyle Nelson had failed, Adolphus allowed himself to believe that she wasn’t up to the task. That had been too much wishful thinking on his part.
Amanda’s second attempt had succeeded, thus resurrecting an ancient threat that he’d thought long gone. She had dusted off a Native American ceremony that was nearly a hundred and fifty years old, and against all odds, she’d modernized it enough to make it function. For only the second time in known history, a human had successfully exorcised a lupusdaemon before it could take full possession of its host body at Erste Mond.
He admired her ingenuity, but at the same time, he hated her for the uncertainty she’d introduced into the future of every lupusdaemon. The next time any of them switched to a new body, they would be vulnerable until the following full moon. He didn’t dare think about how much further the witches of the Ternion Order might be able to take their new power.
Gulping the last of his wine, he berated himself for dwelling on the same depressing train of thought for the hundredth time. As he leaned forward and sat his goblet on the coffee table, the front door of the Rutlinger Foundation manor swung open, admitting a fresh breeze laden with pine scents from the forest outside.
Rutlinger looked up, expecting to see one of his pack members enter the room. The smile he’d affected to hide his maudlin thoughts slid from his face, and he jumped to his feet. Two strangers wearing dark-purple cloaks stood in the slate-tiled entryway.
He strode quickly to intercept them. “The Foundation is private property. You should have announced yourself at the front gate. Who are you, and what is your business here?”
The nearest figure lifted the hood of her cloak and let it fall to her back. She was a strikingly lovely woman with a creamy complexion, full red lips, and dark hair that cascaded to her shoulders in waves. Her eyes were the unmistakable yellowish-amber of a werewolf.
“Greetings, Woreblin. It’s been a while,” she said.
Rutlinger was momentarily stunned. For a werewolf from another pack to appear in the heart of his territory without advance notice was not only rude—it was a direct challenge to his authority. He might have attacked her right then, except for her casual use of his true name. He did not recognize her, but she apparently knew him well enough.
She folded her arms and waited with an insolent smile while he collected himself and worked out who she was. His nostrils twitched as he sniffed at the air, but the olfactory reflex was one of habit. The signature “scent” he detected came to him through his demonic senses.
“Iledaste,” Rutlinger concluded. “This is a new look for you.”
“It is,” she agreed. “My new form is called Marcella.” She waved toward the person who accompanied her. “This is my coven. Well, what’s left of it.”
The other figure dropped his hood as well. Rutlinger was not surprised to see that he was also a werewolf. He’d sensed it when he’d detected Iledaste’s presence.
“Your coven? You possessed a dark witch?” Rutlinger was genuinely surprised. It was a risky choice and quite the opposite of keeping a low profile when it came to the Ternion Order.
She gave him a wicked smile. “Turnabout is fair play, as they say.”
Her oblique reference to the exorcism put Rutlinger on alert. “Why have you returned, Marcella?”
“I’m here because you failed us, Adolf.”
Rutlinger narrowed his eyes at her deliberate provocation. “You know I prefer Adolphus. And how did I fail you?”
“The exorcism, you fool.” Marcella stepped forward, gaining his absolute attention. “It should never have been allowed to happen. Once it did, no one should have left the scene alive.”
Rutlinger shook his head. “We tried to prevent it.”
“You didn’t try hard enough,” Marcella accused in a sharp tone.
Rutlinger clenched his jaw, holding back his anger. She had no business accusing him. He had tried to control the situation, but the disaster was a result of Iledaste’s bad timing and choice of victim. “We did not expect the witch to succeed. She had already tried and failed, and the Order were protecting her. We expected her to fail again.”
“You’re telling me that eight werewolves couldn’t defeat a few human bodyguards?” she scoffed. “The pack is weak under your leadership.”
Rutlinger ignored the insult. It was nothing new. She’d been saying the same thing for years, but she’d never had the strength or the guts to take action. As Clarissa, she’d chosen to live away from the Foundation where his leadership affected her less. Nevertheless, when she’d transferred to Kyle Nelson’s body, he’d done his best to help her keep it.
“We could have overwhelmed them,” he agreed with a nod. “But if we had, everything we’ve worked for here would have been lost. We would spend the rest of our days on the run from the Order. Not unlike you will, I might add.”
The Order was known to be relentless in their pursuit of dark covens.
Marcella drew herself up, anger tightening the skin around her eyes. “Don’t compare yourself to me. You’re a disgrace. You and the others have cozied up to humans for so long that you no longer remember what you are.”
Rutlinger stifled a surge of anger. Former pack member or not, she was pushing the limit of what he’d tolerate from her. Although she had a new body, she couldn’t use the magic of the dark witch she’d possessed. She wasn’t much of a threat, which was what made her choice of bodies so odd. Meanwhile, her partner was standing back with his arms folded, letting her make her move alone.
Rutlinger had to draw a line and be prepared to defend it. “I’ll remind you that this is my territory. I’m alpha here, and I won’t tolerate your insults.”
Marcella moved a little closer to him, invading the unspoken personal space that would have raised his hackles if he’d been in wolf form. “Don’t make me demonstrate who is dominant here. If I had any interest in ruling your bunch of weaklings, I could take them from you now.” She moved back just far enough to be less threatening. “Lucky for you, all I demand is a bit of your hospitality.”
“What do you want?” Rutlinger asked in a suspicious tone. Finally we get to the real reason for this visit.
Marcella glanced around the room at the opulent furnishings, not bothering to disguise her disgust. “I need a base of operations while I clean up the mess you’ve made. Your ridiculous Foundation will do nicely.”
“If you make trouble, this is the first place the Order will look. And if they find you here, they will believe the rest of us are complicit. I will not allow it.”
Marcella stepped forward and gripped his throat with one hand. “If you
refuse, I’ll tear out your traitorous throat and do what I want anyway. If you help me, I’ll see to it that you are redeemed in the eyes of our kind.”
Outraged that she would have the temerity to walk into his home and physically threaten him, Rutlinger reached up with both hands to grab her forearm and pry at her fingers. His intent was to break her grip and then possibly her arm, but his efforts were useless against the iron resistance he encountered.
Her incredible strength made no sense. Even though her new body was undoubtedly stronger than the one that had been failing her when she’d possessed the Nelson boy, she couldn’t be this strong. Something was very wrong. Yes, Iledaste was in there somewhere, but he wasn’t talking to Iledaste.
Rutlinger’s flailing did nothing except bring a wicked smile to her face. She nodded when she saw the realization dawn in his eyes. “Hello, Adolphus. Meet the real Marcella. With Iledaste’s help, my magic is stronger than you can begin to imagine.”
While Rutlinger clawed at her, Marcella squeezed until his vision began to dim. His attempts to remove her hand became more and more feeble as he gasped for breath and his knees buckled.
Just when he thought she would make good on her threat to kill him, she released his throat. He caught himself from toppling over and sat with his legs folded until his head cleared. Looking up into her eyes, he could see a determination that would not be denied. She was both witch and werewolf. To his knowledge, it was the first such pairing.
With a feeling of sadness for the future of his pack, Rutlinger admitted to himself that she had defeated him. He was no longer alpha. He remained on his knees and bowed his head, lowering his eyes. “We will do what we can to accommodate you,” he said.
She patted his head in a patronizing fashion, making his face heat with humiliation. “Good boy. Now, perhaps you can give us a tour.”
Chapter 4
Gathering
Amanda turned off the pavement and slowed her car for the bumpy climb up Gold Creek Ridge Road. Her Subaru Outback was a little older than the Toyota RAV4 it had replaced, but she liked the car-like ride, and the interior was nicer. She hoped the Outback would last longer, not that crashing into a tree had been her poor RAV’s fault.
At the top of the ridge, she followed the winding road past everything from tiny cabins to sprawling mini-ranches. Tall evergreens bordered the road easement and the yards that had been carved out of the forest. Birch trees had grown into many spaces where the ground had been exposed to sun, their yellow fluttering leaves a hallmark of the season.
In spite of Kyle’s pessimistic assessment that morning of the situation with Reggie, his suggestion that they start collecting information and exploring options made her feel like she could finally do something useful. His promise to help her once they came up with a plan of action was also reassuring.
Turning at Noreen’s driveway, Amanda drove a short distance before entering a clearing filled with vehicles parked near a large cedar home. Usually, she was among the first to arrive. She grimaced as she pulled in next to Cara’s sporty little red SUV. If Cara was there, she was really running late. Amanda hadn’t yet adjusted to the longer drive from Kyle’s house or the delays imposed by the man himself. At Hayworth Ranch, she was used to downing a bowl of cereal and driving ten minutes to the gathering. She hadn’t planned for morning snuggle time with Kyle or the huge breakfast he insisted on feeding her afterward. Add the half-hour drive from his house in town, and she was lucky she’d made it at all.
She looked down at her full tummy pushing against the waist of her jeans. If she let him keep feeding her the way he did, her pants wouldn’t fit for much longer. It was time to set some ground rules.
Amanda grabbed her canvas bag and hurried to the house, entering the front door without bothering to knock. Noreen would be expecting her. Impatiently, no doubt.
“Well, look who decided to join us,” piped Cara’s sultry voice. “New boy toy keep you up late?”
Amanda hadn’t quite figured out why Cara was so fascinated by her relationship with Kyle. Cara’s approach to men was to chew them up and spit them out. As an air witch, she had the power to attract any man she wanted, but she had no need for magic in that department. Men were irresistibly drawn to her petite but enviably proportioned figure and her glacier-blue eyes, which dominated a round face framed by long black hair. All she had to do was smile and crook her finger.
Jessie came to her defense. “Give her a break, Cara. You got here a whopping two minutes ago, and that was early for you.”
“That’s okay, Jessie,” Amanda said. “I guess I deserve a little ribbing. Sorry I’m late.”
“You haven’t missed anything,” added Tanya, the fourth of Amanda’s coven-mates. She offered a shy welcoming smile that deepened the dimples in her dark olive skin. “Noreen is still getting drinks.”
Since Cara had appropriated Amanda’s favorite chair, Jessie shifted closer to Tanya to give Amanda space on the couch. The leather cushion creaked as Amanda sat next to the long-legged blonde. One of the things she disliked most about the slick upholstery was the unflattering noises it made every time she shifted around on it.
“Good. Everyone’s here,” Noreen said, carrying a tray of silver goblets into the room. An identical tray already sat on the table with an insulated tub of ice and the three beverage carafes Noreen prepared for every gathering. The red one held cranberry juice, the blue one water, and the yellow one orange juice. If you wanted something else, you had to bring your own although Noreen frowned upon soda pop or energy drinks.
The women took turns serving themselves. Cara swirled her cranberry juice and twisted her lips into a disappointed frown. “Now all we need is some vodka.”
Jessie shuddered. “Bleh. Too early in the day for me.”
It was 9:15 AM according to the clock on the thick mantle above Noreen’s river-stone fireplace. Amanda echoed her friend’s reaction.
Cara opened her mouth to make the inevitable snarky remark about how conservative or boring the others were, but Noreen interrupted her. “I have an announcement to make,” she said, setting down her goblet.
Once all eyes had turned to her, she sat up straight in her high-backed antique chair and placed her hands on the gold-painted arm rests. “Elder Evelina Barritt is retiring from the Court of Elders, and I have been nominated to replace her.”
Amanda and all of her coven-mates stared in shocked silence at the incredible news. The Court of Elders consisted of five witches who presided over the policies and guidelines for all practitioners of elemental witchcraft across the entire world. Only the most powerful witches were nominated.
All of the women extended their congratulations, and Noreen tilted her head in proud acknowledgment.
“But who will teach me?” Tanya asked in a pleading voice. She had asked to join the Gold Ridge Coven specifically because she wanted to learn from Noreen. Both women were fire witches, and Tanya had been learning the craft quickly from the respected adept.
Noreen waved the question away. “I haven’t been elected, only nominated. It will be months before the Coven Conclave makes a final decision. By then, your apprenticeship could be over. It would be over already if you would stop holding yourself back.”
Tanya lowered her gaze to her goblet.
“What will happen to the coven?” Cara asked. If the conclave elected Noreen to the Court of Elders, she would no longer have time to lead the Gold Ridge Coven.
Noreen looked around at all four women. “That will be up to the four of you and the conclave. Amanda or Jessie could petition for adept status and take over the coven.” Noreen wasn’t snubbing Cara by omitting her as a candidate. Cara had only recently been elevated from apprentice to crafter, and being accepted as an adept was a long way off for her. “Or you could disband and join other covens.”
Ugh. Joining a new coven didn’t hold much appeal for Amanda. It took time for coven members to work well together, assuming it ever happened. Their group had it
s problems, but the problems were known and everyone had managed to adjust. On top of that, most of the other covens in the area were already at or beyond the optimal five members needed for a full casting circle. Joining another coven would mean becoming an alternate, which would reduce her opportunities to practice.
Amanda looked at Jessie, whose expression of distaste seemed to mirror her own thoughts on the matter. Would Jessie be willing to lead the coven? It was a big responsibility and one that Amanda wasn’t interested in taking on at the moment. She intended to put most of her energy into solving the Reggie problem, so she couldn’t let the coven tie her down.
Cara didn’t look very enthusiastic either. None of the options would look good from her perspective. If she stayed, she would chafe under Jessie’s leadership, so joining a new coven might be the better choice. She adopted a mock-cheerful attitude and said to Noreen, “We’ll just have to hope you don’t get elected.”
“That is the most likely turn of events,” Noreen said sourly.
“Do you even want the position?” Amanda asked.
“If anyone else were retiring, I’d probably decline the nomination. But with Barritt gone, we’ll need someone with sense on the court to balance the remaining opinions.”
“Who else was nominated?” Jessie asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Noreen answered. She cleared her throat. “But that’s enough about my nomination. Last month, we discussed Amanda’s lupusdaemon exorcism spell. Does anyone have any final questions about that before we move on?”
Cara held up her hand. “I do.” Looking at Amanda, she said, “I want to know more about the after-effects. Does Kyle still have the physical enhancements you mentioned last month, or have they started to fade?”
“He still has them.” If one of the other women had asked the question, Amanda might have elaborated.
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