by T. M. Cromer
Narrowed amber eyes studied Alastair for a long moment, then she, too, smiled. “True. All right, you have a deal.” As she headed for the center of the circle, she lifted her arm out to her side. Mr. Black launched from his spot in a nearby tree to land on her forearm. “Poor boy. You look a little worse for wear, don’t you? It won’t do for your mistress to see you in such a sorry state.” Isis ran the flat of her hand down the length of the bird, restoring his molting feathers to a thick glossy black. “Much better.” She leaned in to impart information to Spring’s familiar, produced a fine particulate of silver dust and blew it into his face. She launched him skyward and dusted her hands.
“What did you tell him?” Knox was mildly curious what she had to converse about with the raven.
“Nothing you need to worry about for now,” Isis informed him with a brisk nod. “When you find her, I recommend you use your ability to stop time to relay that which you want no one else to see or hear. Do you understand?”
“I believe I do.”
“Good. When you have the book, place it on the stone slab and proceed with your ceremony.”
After she left, the group turned incredulous eyes on Knox.
“You!” Winnie charged to where he stood. “You were the one who saved me in Malta and then again in the desert.”
Winnie referred to the moment when he’d used his ability to stop the bullet meant to take her life, and then again saved the lives of her, Zane, and their other companion in the search for a charmed amulet.
“I was.”
“How? Why?”
He offered up a bittersweet smile. “For Spring. If anything had happened to you, she’d have been heartbroken.”
Tears flooded Winnie’s eyes, turning them to liquid pools of blue. “Oh, Knox.”
He wrapped her in a tight embrace. “I’m going to find her, Winnie. I don’t care what it takes.”
“Thank you,” she whispered on a sob.
“You don’t need to thank me. I’m doing this for entirely selfish reasons. I simply cannot exist without her,” he managed to say.
Other than the occasional sniffle, silence settled over the group with his statement. They all understood how important this spell was.
He turned his attention to Nash. “How much do you want for the book? I assume it’s in the collection you hold for the Witches’ Council.”
“It is.”
“You have a decision to make,” Knox told him. “But know, if you don’t voluntarily hand it over, I’ll tear your home apart looking for it.”
One arrogant blond brow rose skyward, and Nash never resembled his father so much as he did in that moment. “I’m offended you even have to say such a thing.”
“Be offended all you want. I’ll stop at nothing for Spring.”
Nash’s face softened. “Understood. I’ll be right back.”
As they all waited for him to return, Knox paced the glen. He stopped by the tree where he’d first kissed Spring a little over four months ago. Running his fingers down the bark, he imagined he could still feel her silky smooth skin. Still taste her sassy mouth. Still see the wondrous gleam in her vibrant jade eyes the instant of her orgasm.
Despair threatened to choke him, but he ruthlessly shoved it back. They were closer to finding her than they’d ever been. He couldn’t give into the hopelessness now.
The air crackled around them. Nash reappeared and flashed a tight smile while he waved the ancient tome. “Let’s get to it.”
After the protective circle was cast, Summer took Alastair’s hands in hers. “Goddess hear our plea. Assist us in our time of need.” They knelt. Keeping one hand joined, they each placed their free hand on the ground. “Stagnum!”
The ground shifted, and liquid bubbled up from an expanding hole. Before long, a small, pool-sized body of water had formed.
“Clarus!” Summer commanded.
The water became a clear pool, and Knox appreciated the thoughtfulness. He didn’t relish the idea of lying down in a mud puddle.
Coop stepped forward and ran a finger through the water. When Alastair lifted a brow, he gave the older warlock a sheepish grin. “I heated the pool. I didn’t want Knox to be cold.”
“Very thoughtful,” Alastair agreed. “Places everyone.” He nodded to Nash. “Please place the Book of Thoth on the altar.”
The Thornes gathered within the circle, stretching their arms with palms facing outward toward the person on either side of them. After Knox stripped his jacket and shoes, he waded into the water. As a chilling wind picked up around them, he appreciated Coop’s thoughtfulness all the more.
Preston started the chant, and one by one, the others joined in. Bright white light ricocheted from hand to hand and completed the circle when it returned to Preston.
As Knox floated in the water, he could feel the vibration of the stones rising up from their hiding places beneath the earth. Soon enough, massive rock formations towered over the occupants of the clearing. At that moment, Mr. Black swooped from his branch and landed on the bank of the pool. He plunged his silky midnight head into the water at the same instant Knox called to Spring.
He left his body in a sleeping state and focused on Spring. Within seconds, Knox had astral-projected to her location. The sight that met his eyes ripped his soul to shreds.
Naked, she lay on a bed, curled in a ball. Bruises in all shapes and shades covered the entirety of her body. Her lower back and buttocks were darker purple than the rest.
“Spring. Sweetheart?”
Her head came up, and her eyes widened in shock. Twice, she swiped a hand over her eyes as if she didn’t believe what they revealed to her. With a wild glance toward the far side of the room, she sat up.
A quick check of the room showed a camera mounted in the corner where her gaze continually darted.
“They can’t see or hear me. Only you can, sweetheart.” He shifted forward, desperate to touch her. In his ghostly form, it was impossible.
“Am I dead?” she whispered after she carefully turned her head away from the camera.
“No, love, you’re very much alive. Your family has been actively looking for you for a long while.”
Her dull, forest-green eyes focused on him. “Tell them you couldn’t find me. Or better yet. Tell them I’m dead. It will be true soon anyway.”
Spring shifted her arm to reveal the tracks.
Knox dropped to his knees before her. “Christ! He’s shooting you up?”
Tone barely audible, she confessed, “Me.”
“You? You’re doing this to yourself?” He shook his head in denial. Why the hell would she ever willingly drug herself? “I don’t understand.”
With one fingertip she traced the runes on the shackle at her wrist. “No escape. Ever. None that isn’t death.”
“Don’t buy into that bullshit, Spring. Don’t you do it. I’m coming for you. Do you understand?” He reached for her, regardless of his spectral limitations. Tears burned behind his lids as his hands passed through her.
“You were a beautiful dream,” she murmured groggily as she laid back on the pillows.
“I’m as real as you, sweetheart. Hold on for a little longer. For me, Spring? Please?” he begged.
“Don’t come back, Knox. Let me go.”
16
A whoosh of sound echoed in Knox’s ears, then he returned to his human form. The first thing he became aware of was Mr. Black. The raven eyed him with a keen intelligence few animals produced. He didn’t need to convey to the bird the conversation that had taken place. The raven had witnessed it all.
Knox stroked a finger down Mr. Black’s satiny chest. “I’ll keep my promise. I’ll get her back,” he said softly.
With a distinctive nod of understanding, the bird launched into the night sky.
A large, rough hand appeared in his line of vision. He turned tortured eyes up to Coop. Careful to keep his voice low so the others in the circle didn’t hear, Knox said, “It’s much worse than I th
ought.” If his voice broke, his cousin wouldn’t fault him for it. “But I know where she is now.”
“Then we’ll get her.” Coop shoved his hand closer. “Come. Let’s get you dry and make a retrieval plan.”
Accepting the hand Coop presented to him was more symbolic than he could’ve said. The life he’d lived to date had been that of a loner. He hid behind an easygoing persona and helped others from behind a mirrored glass. Other than the time when Alastair had removed him from the hell house as a child and arranged with Uncle Phillip to take him in, Knox had never thought to accept assistance from anyone.
With only the slightest hesitation, he grabbed the hand his cousin patiently held out. Heat transferred from Coop to Knox and warmed his cells even as it dried his t-shirt and jeans. A snap of his fingers replaced his jacket and boots. Another snap produced a detailed map of Colombia. He placed it on the empty stone altar.
“She’s here.” He tapped a heavily wooded area. “There’s a long river that runs through this area, and Esteban’s house is on the other side of the summit of this mountaintop.”
Spring’s three sisters and Nash closed the circle as Alastair and Preston joined Knox and Coop. They’d remained quiet while Knox had traced the route he’d flown.
“I know that area,” Preston volunteered. “I was close to there for an antique auction. My contact can have aerial photos in a matter of hours.” He glanced skyward. “Or rather just after sunrise.”
Knox met Coop’s concerned gaze and made an abrupt decision to reveal the truth. “I don’t think she has that long, sir.” Scrubbing the heel of his palm between his brows, he released a ragged breath. “She told me not to come back. To let her go.”
“What?”
Preston’s disbelief was understandable. Spring was a fighter. To see her laid low, with no hope or fire in her eyes had been difficult at best. At worst? Yeah, a part of Knox’s soul had been peeled open and exposed to all the torments hell had to offer. But it still wouldn’t have been a smattering of what Spring herself had gone through.
He launched into a detailed explanation of what he witnessed. “There’s the matter of a heroin addiction to deal with when we get her back.”
“No. She would never. She could heal herself. She…” Preston looked to Alastair who had remained silent through their exchange. “Al?”
“I don’t need to tell you that Lin is a sonofabitch, brother.” Alastair faced Knox. “Tell me about the ancient platinum shackles she was wearing. I’m assuming you saw them or something similar.”
“Yes. They were about two-and-a-half inches wide and had engraved runes. I’d never seen those particular symbols before, but if I had to guess, I’d say they looked to be of Norse origin.”
“I’m deeply familiar with those particular shackles.” Face pale, Alastair closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
Knox didn’t dare touch the man. It was obvious he was lost in the past. But he needed everyone present to save Spring. “What should I know about them, Alastair?”
“They can only be removed upon her death.”
The air escaped from his lungs in a rush. It was what Spring had been trying to say in her drugged state. “And healing herself after… after…?”
Ashen faced, Preston turned to his older brother for answers.
Alastair looked as if he would be ill at any moment, but he answered all the same. “She might be able to outwardly heal, but beatings, rape, drugs, they would all be more difficult to recover from if she’s wearing Lin’s shackles. They drain the wearer’s magic.” He powered on. “When I was imprisoned, I felt as if I had a constant bout of the flu. My body was achy, and I experienced a general feeling of overall depression. The continuous drain on her body will do that. You have to remember he is literally pulling the magic from her cells.” Alastair met Preston’s direct stare. “She can’t sustain the drain for long. If Isis hadn’t rescued me… I’m sorry.”
Preston’s fist connected with Alastair’s jaw, knocking the blond man into Coop. “Find a way to contact Lin. We’ll trade him whatever—whoever—he wants. You or me, I don’t care.”
“Don’t you think I’ve already made that offer?” Alastair snarled in a rare display of temper. “Don’t you think I’ve offered Isis my own life? Apparently, I’m not the treasured, sought-after commodity I once was.”
His words surprised the group. The only person not surprised was Knox. The Alastair Thorne he knew was no stranger to sacrifice. He just did an amazing job at keeping his true nature hidden from those around him. Knox could relate. If no one expected anything but the worst from you, it was easy to blend into the background. Easy to become a chameleon and hide any spark of goodness you possessed.
“Thank you.”
Alastair’s surprised gaze shot to him. “It’s my fault.”
“No. You may have brought your personal quest to our door, but you didn’t make any of us step over the threshold. I was wrong to blame you.” He placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder and squeezed, as Alastair had done to him years before when they’d first met. “Thank you for your willingness to sacrifice on her behalf. You tried, and that makes all the difference to me.”
Oblivion eluded Spring as she injected the next round of heroin. Either the stuff Don Carlos had left for her had lost its potency, or he was playing games and was withholding the purer-quality drugs. Agitation took hold as did her anxiety. What was his new plan?
He had already made her beg. She begged for him to end the torture. Begged to receive an injection of the poison he peddled. Begged for sexual favors when he’d slipped her a chemical cocktail of an aphrodisiac and Rohypnol. He enjoyed playing that particular tape back during her more lucid moments.
Yes, she was sure he’d started a new form of torture. For certain, her achy joints and muscles were a sign of withdrawal. She had tried it on her own in the first month. The cramping, sweats, and vomiting were more than she could bear. Especially when Don Carlos had left a syringe of heroin on the dresser in plain view. Spring had attempted to get clean twice more, but the tortures he put her through made her turn to the one thing that would obliterate her pain.
The newest trick to conjure a Knox look-a-like was the worst torment yet. She had little doubt Zhu Lin had assisted with that little stunt. A warlock on his payroll could very easily glamour himself to resemble Knox. She’d revealed too much to his spy.
“I hate you!” she screamed. Who exactly she was speaking to—herself, Don Carlos, Lin, or Knox—she didn’t know. Perhaps a combination of all of them.
Anger, humiliation, and a sense of betrayal filled her from the center out. All the emotions she’d suppressed until this exact moment erupted. How had Knox not come for her? And Alastair? Of all people, she believed her uncle would make an attempt to save her. Unable to control her spike of temper, she went about systematically demolishing her room. She ripped the sheets from the bed and tore at the threads. She yanked the drawers from the dresser and scattered the contents about. With one arm, she cleared the dresser’s surface of the sickening perfumes and oils Esteban insisted she wear. If it was breakable or smashable, her rage helped her to destroy it.
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” The refrain wouldn’t stop repeating in her mind or from her mouth. “I hate you!” she sobbed as she sunk into a heap.
A jagged shard of glass caught her eye. Leaning back against the overturned box spring, she stared at her salvation. It was time. As her hand closed over the triangular piece of her perfume bottle, the door to her room burst open.
“Spring!” Knox stood panting in the doorway, all lanky, six-feet-one male. Or at least the faux Knox did anyway. He was thinner than her Knox, not as vibrant.
“You’re not real,” she said conversationally as she positioned the sharp edge over the exposed skin of her arm.
“Sweetheart, please. Put the glass down,” the imposter begged. “Please.”
“I’m done with the games. Tell your bosses. I’m done. I’m
no one’s plaything.”
Fake Knox inched closer as she pressed the sharp, raw edge of the glass into her arm. “Baby, this is not a game. I need you to see me. Hear the truth in my voice. Please.”
The blatant desperation in his tone lifted her head. She met his dark gaze and sneered. “Knox has eyes the color of the sea on the purest day.” The glass went deeper and scored her skin. “You’re not him. Your boss fucked up.”
“Spring, sweetheart, if you know anything about our kind, you know when we are upset or sad, our irises darken. Remember? If you look in the mirror now, you’d see yours aren’t your normal green.”
His statement gave her pause, and she lifted her gaze to his frantic dark gray eyes. As she watched, he crawled toward her across the debris she’d littered about the room in her destructive tantrum.
“I hate you,” she whispered. “You left me here with him. That monster.”
Anguish flooded his face. “I’ve been looking for you for a very long time, love. We all have. Come with me now. Let me get you out of here.”
“I can’t leave.” She turned her attention back to carving up her arm. “I can never leave.”
“You can!” he practically shouted, capturing her attention again. His hand closed over hers and stopped the opening of her vein. A surge of his magic healed the gash she’d made. “Just try.”
“Why did you do that? Why?” she cried. “He’ll be here soon.”
“I’m not letting him touch you again. I don’t care if I have to guard this room for the rest of our lives.”
With a dispassionate stare, she watched as he conjured a robe and wrapped it around her. “Am I ugly to you now?”
“What? No!”
* * *
Knox was appalled by her behavior. He prayed that Spring didn’t see the horror he tried so hard to hide. Somehow, he suspected she did. For sure, she felt the trembling of his hands.
Spring stood, dropped her robe and slowly spun around, allowing him to see her damaged body for the first time since he’d found her hunched over on the floor. “What’s the matter, Knox? Isn’t this what you expected?”
