The Mating Game: Werewolves of Montana Book 8

by Bonnie Vanak

  “Please. Don’t let him hurt me. Please, Xavier. Help me. I’m so scared.” Ciara curled her fingers around the iron bars.

  “I’m sorry.” His gaze looked stricken. “I did not know Duncan was doing this.”

  “How could you not know?” Simon shouted. “You are always in the room next to us. I could hear you singing, damn it. How could you not hear our screams?”

  “I did not know,” Xavier repeated, shoving a hand through his thick, dark hair. “I was so absorbed in my work… I will free you now, but we must hurry, for Duncan is due back soon.”

  The wizard raced to the cages and sprang the locks. As her fellow Ogres stumbled out, she rattled the bars on her cage. Please hurry. Please hurry.

  Xavier reached her cage at last, his expression stricken.

  “I am so sorry, little one. I am so sorry.” He kept repeating the words as he fumbled with the lock on her cage.

  Ciara’s heart raced as sweat dripped down her back. “Please, please, hurry. He is going to hurt me!”

  Xavier looked at her, his gaze shaded with anguish. “I cannot open it. It’s affixed with his coldfire, and my magick is not yet strong enough to undo the spell.”

  Ciara sank to her knees. “He’s going to kill me, a terrible death. I am so afraid.”

  Xavier squatted down, and his expression turned hard. “No. I shall not allow this, little one. He will not touch you. I will save you.”

  She looked up, filled with wild hope. “Will you?”

  His eyes closed, and long, dark lashes rested against his cheeks. “I give you my promise. He will not touch you.”

  He was a brave, noble wizard, as her heart had told her.

  A tremendous whoosh of air blew through the crystal cavern. Xavier tensed and stood as Duncan emerged from a puff of white smoke. The wizard crackled with power, and his ice-blue gaze centered on his apprentice.

  Xavier threw back his shoulders. “You lied to me. You said you worked with treatments to heal Ogres from disease. You tortured them.”

  Duncan’s mouth thinned. “It was none of your concern. You freed my Ogres.”

  “They were not yours, Duncan. They are living beings with souls.”

  “Ogres have no soul. But at least I still have the girl.” Duncan’s cruel gaze centered on Ciara, and she shivered. “Your punishment can wait, Xavier, while I use her.”

  “Undo the lock on her cage and release Ciara. Now,” Xavier ordered. He flung an energy bolt at his master. It shattered the table beside Duncan, obliterating it.

  Duncan brushed at his long robes.

  “You have grown powerful, my apprentice. So very powerful. Almost as powerful as me. Perhaps there is another way.” Duncan looked at her. “I shall release the Ogre.”

  Wild hope beat inside her, until Duncan stroked a finger down his thin cheek. “Perhaps.”

  The wizard flung a blue energy bolt at Xavier, and he groaned as it hit him square in the chest. Ciara stared, stricken. Coldfire was a powerful magick that burned worse than real fire.

  As Xavier staggered to his feet, Duncan chuckled. “I shall release her if you are willing to take her place. You are young, Xavier, and powerful and will last longer than she ever could. I shall enjoy seeing how long you last under the coldfire.”

  Xavier stared at him, and the fear in his eyes made her wince. Her brave wizard.

  Duncan laughed. “As I thought. You are full of noble words, but you are far too selfish to sacrifice yourself for a silly Ogre girl. Had you wanted, you could have freed them all earlier, but you chose to ignore their sufferings. You closed your ears and your eyes to them.”

  “No,” Xavier protested. “I did not.”

  “But you did. You are blind and deaf to all that is not beautiful in this world, Xavier. Return to your work. Later, I will have you find a Troll for me.”

  Xavier’s tormented gaze slid to her, and for a minute, a shadow crossed his face. “Undo the lock, and I will take her place inside the cage.”

  The Coldfire Wizard looked surprised. Then he gave a sly smile.

  “As you wish.” Duncan touched the lock on Ciara’s cage. Blue light encased the iron, and suddenly the door opened.

  Ciara raced out, into Xavier’s arms. He caught her and hugged her tight as Duncan went to a table on the cave’s opposite side.

  “Run,” Xavier whispered to her. “There is a secret passage through the door on the right that will take you to the hillside. While he is distracted, run far from here and do not look back, for Duncan has no intention of releasing you for good. Call upon Aeon, the Crystal Wizard, and he will stop Duncan’s evil.”

  “No. You can’t do this!”

  “I must,” he said quietly. “I must, or you will die.”

  Ciara reached upward. Ogres had the magick of the earth, but she had the magick of her mother’s people, the witches. She silently chanted a spell and then traced the outline of a heart over his bearded mouth.

  “I give you my heart so we will always be together, even unto death,” she told him.

  A sad smile touched his mouth. “I shall cherish your gift through eternity and return it to you.”

  He pushed her away, and she stumbled, drawing deeper into the shadows. Xavier then flung out his hands, tossing bolts of white energy at Duncan.

  The wizard laughed as they bounced off him.

  “You cannot hurt me, Xavier. You pledged a bond of blood and bone to me, a pledge unto death and beyond the grave. Even if you had the magick of the Crystal Wizard, you could never touch me. Your powers are useless against me!”

  Duncan flung a bolt at Xavier, hurling him into the cage. Then the door closed and locked.

  The wizard picked up a long, black wand and dipped it into a glass jar filled with glowing, blue liquid. Duncan waved the wand, and iron manacles encased Xavier’s wrists and his ankles, stretching his limbs.

  She kept backing away, watching Xavier as tears clogged her throat. Pale and shaking, he hung suspended from the manacles, his chest rising and falling with each rapid breath.

  “Here I come. Prepare yourself, my apprentice. This shall be quite…painful.”

  She ran and looked over her shoulder. Through her blurred vision, she saw Xavier, his expression filled with terror. Then Duncan waved the wand, and a blue-gray haze engulfed her love. Xavier screamed.

  His screams followed her as she reached the door, yanked it open, and followed the narrow passageway lined with torches. Eventually the passageway ended, and she rushed outside the cavern. Ciara kept running until she crested the hill above her village, Xavier’s anguished cries ringing in her ears. She collapsed to the grassy knoll and wept.

  He would die so she could live.

  “I shall never forget you, Xavier,” she whispered through her tears. “Ever. For I gave you my heart and I shall never give it to another. Until we meet again, in another lifetime. It is yours forever.”

  Part I

  1

  Tir Na-nog, 1956

  Council of the Brehon

  “I need a vacation.”

  No one paid him any heed. As he sat in the great hall of his crystal palace, Xavier, the Crystal Wizard, studied his brother wizards. The three other members of the Brehon, the immortal wizards who ruled over Others, were bent over a map of the United States, peering at it with great interest.

  It was the second time he’d uttered the wistful longing. He had slain thousands of Earthers, from evil Trolls to Ogres to Changeling Gnomes. All had committed heinous deeds during World War II. Of the four members of the Brehon, his burden had been heaviest. He did his duty with quiet attention, resolved to rid the world of evil. But he grew weary of slaying monsters.

  He had seen such horrors that his weary soul grew even more cynical. Xavier had not met with such evil since the day he’d died to his mortal life, tortured by Duncan more than six hundred years ago.

  Even after the end of World War II, he remained vigilant, for the monsters grew slyer. Xavier was more than sev
en hundred years old but felt much more ancient. Still, he was considered the baby of the Brehon, the youngest wizard of the four.

  “There.” Gideon, the Crimson Wizard, pointed to a section on the map in the Midwest. “Iowa.”

  “What?”

  “A nice, small town in Iowa. Lots of teeny boppers and innocence. Just what you need.” Tristan, the Silver Wizard, looked at him. “Few Trolls or Ogres.”

  “Perhaps a Nymph or two,” Gideon added.

  “No Skins,” said Cadeyrn, using the word Others used to describe humans.

  No one but Others, so he could fully relax. Xavier studied the town on the map and smiled, grateful they understood his dire need for a break. He had not taken one in hundreds of years, for in order for him to be relieved of his duties as the Crystal Wizard, another of the Brehon had to take over his charges. And it was not easy keeping tabs on Earthers.

  “Actually, the town is filled with Mages. It’s the safest place for you to visit,” Tristan told him. “We thought you would like to be among your kind.”

  Unlike the other wizards, Xavier had not been a member of the race he’d been chosen to rule over when he’d died to his mortal life and become the Crystal Wizard. He had been a Mage, Others with the weakest magick.

  “You cannot use your powers. It is forbidden to interfere. But you can walk among them anonymously, enjoying yourself,” Gideon said. “There is an interesting cultural movement called rock and roll you will enjoy.”

  He had heard the music and enjoyed one particular musician named Elvis.

  Cadeyrn folded his thickly muscled arms. “It is a dangerous venture for you, Xavier. Are you certain you wish to go to Earth and walk among Others as if you were mortal?”

  Xavier thought of the bombed-out buildings in London, the horrors of the concentration camps, where Trolls had lurked unseen by Skins as they fed off the suffering energy of the prisoners, and the innocent Trolls and Ogres who had died courageously trying to save the Skins. “If it is a place filled with innocence and youth.”

  The eldest among them, Cadeyrn sighed, as if he had foreseen something bad. “Even such places can be filled with darkness. But if you insist…” The Shadow Wizard waved a hand, and a vial appeared in his fingers. “Drink this. It will enable you to be among Others without them seeing your true identity. They will see you only as a Mage.”

  Good idea. Showing his face would be equivalent to a celebrity like Rock Hudson popping into a room filled with teenagers. He uncapped the potion and sniffed it. “Are you certain this will work? It smells worse than Tristan’s feet.”

  “Hey,” the Silver Wizard protested.

  “It will, but there could be one or two who may recognize you.”

  He wondered at the cryptic note in Cadeyrn’s voice. Xavier shrugged and swallowed the potion.

  It tasted like ashes and bitterness. He grimaced and wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. “How do I look?”

  Tristan peered at him. “Your hair makes you look a little like Elvis Presley. Except you’re much younger looking.”

  Gideon handed him a mirror. Xavier stared. Gone were his long, curling locks tipped with crystals. His dark hair was cropped short, his face clean-shaven, and he looked like a teenager.

  Xavier rubbed his angular cheeks and studied his reflection, his body clad in a white T-shirt, baggy, cotton twill pants, motorcycle boots, and a black leather jacket.

  Tristan reached over and pulled up his collar. “Now you look tough, X.”

  “With that baby face?” Cadeyrn scowled. Then the Shadow Wizard looked solemn. “Beware, Xavier. Do not form attachments while you are relieved of your duties. It can be…painful when they are lost.”

  “Wise words,” said Gideon, gazing into the distance as if he had experienced such loss.

  His throat tightened with emotion. These men were not only his equals but his friends. “Thank you.”

  Gideon rolled his eyes. “Get out of here, before we change our minds about looking after those Earthers of yours.”

  Tristan grinned. “Good luck, X.”

  Xavier waved a hand and vanished. When he appeared, he was standing on a street corner near a town square. A bright, red-and-white barber pole stood outside one shop, while next to it was a movie theater. Across the street was a soda shop, and it looked to be bustling with activity.

  He strolled into the malt shop, enchanted with the teenagers crowding the booths and the stools at the counter. The entire soda shop was filled with Others. Not a single Skin among them, and no Earthers, either. Most were shifters, but he detected the aura of a Mage couple sharing a soda in the corner booth. And one girl sitting at the counter. She wore a red-and-yellow plaid skirt and a yellow sweater. Saddle shoes were on her feet with cuffed white socks. Very cute. She sipped a soda while studying a magazine. His nostrils flared. Lupine shifter but mixed with something else. The girl smelled like rainwater and sunshine, with traces of sweet vanilla.

  Such innocence. No evil here. His weary spirits lifted.

  He slid onto a red stool at the polished counter, enjoying the music blasting from the jukebox in the corner. A blond waitress in a black-and-white checked uniform, a white apron, and a scalloped, white cap ran over, pad in hand. She was quite lovely, with eyes as blue as the sea and a full figure. Her gaze sharpened with interest as she tapped her pencil against the pad.

  “Well, hello there. I haven’t seen you around here. And I am very glad you’re here. You’re definitely more interesting than a malted milkshake, cutie,” she purred.

  Xavier’s delight soured. He hadn’t come here to be propositioned. The waitress, a Mage, had an aura flickering gray to black, like a light bulb needing replacing. Very weak powers. There was something exotic and intriguing about her but tainted with darkness. He frowned, unable to put his finger on it.

  “I’m Andy. That’s what my friends call me.” The woman leaned across the counter, showing him her considerable assets. “I know we have met before.”

  “Possibly,” he said politely, feeling his skin itch.

  “Care to order?”

  “In a moment.” He turned away, and the waitress pouted.

  Xavier gave a very small mental nudge to a customer in a booth, and the customer called for another soda refill. So much for his promise of not using his powers.

  As the waitress scurried away, Xavier moved over to sit next to the girl in the plaid skirt. She glanced at him then back at her magazine.

  The girl with the long, dark ponytail had a glowing, pink aura, as refreshing as a sip of cool water on a hot day. Curious about the magazine, he longed to ask her but didn’t know what to say.

  He snorted with self-deprecating humor. Here he was, seven hundred years old, and fishing around for an opening. He’d had sex with more women than he could remember and yet felt awkward at initiating a normal conversation.

  “Do you have the time?” he asked, feeling helpless.

  The girl didn’t look up but pointed to the wall clock hanging above the mirror.

  Nice try, sport. He looked around the shop, wondering how teenage boys did it. Usually he was too busy delivering justice to Earthers, destroying the evil ones and rescuing those in need.

  Then she turned a page, and he glimpsed the photo on the page. The color illustration of two men gasping in apparent horror at ghouls coming out of a graveyard caught his interest. The ghouls looked like the Ogres he had destroyed only last week.

  Xavier leaned over. “Neat,” he murmured. “What is it?”

  “A comic book.”

  “Is it funny?”

  Now she finally did look up. Her eyes were an incredible sea blue, filled with disbelief. “Does it look funny? It’s monsters.”

  He felt as awkward as a teenage boy at his first dance. “They can be,” he said, remembering the one Troll he’d caught roller skating in his true form at a drive-in in rural New Jersey. The Troll had stopped at a car where a teenaged couple was necking, hidden himself, and then si
lently farted, breaking up the romance, the girl accusing the boy of the foul stench. Xavier had laughed so hard that he’d let the Troll escape with a mild warning.

  “That one looks scary,” he said, wanting to continue the conversation. “Or do you find it fun to read?”

  “I’m not reading this for fun. I’m studying the illustrations. I draw monster comic art as a hobby. I want to be an artist.”

  “A comic book artist, Miss…?”

  “Ciara Simpson.” She sipped her chocolate milk and studied him beneath the fringe of her long, black lashes.

  “Ciara. A lovely name,” he murmured. “Do you go to school here in town?”

  “Yes. I’m in my last year of high school.” She swept her cool blue gaze over him. “You’re older.”

  He smiled. “Yes.”

  She was a baby compared to him. He glanced around the shop. They all were. Except the bold waitress. She had an air of age about her—ancient age.

  “You look about twenty-two. College boy.”

  “I have not studied in a very long time.” He propped his chin upon one fist. “I was studying magick.”

  Ciara gave him a long, thoughtful look, and her lovely mouth curved. “Did you? I should think you have no need of studying magick…wizard.”

  He blinked and lifted his hands, stroking his short hair. Xavier studied his image in the mirror behind the soda counter. No crystals in his hair, no closely trimmed beard.

  “What did you say?” he asked slowly.

  “Wizard.” She lowered her voice. “Xavier, the Crystal Wizard.”

  “You know who I am.” Perhaps Cadeyrn’s potion had not worked.

  “I have an extraordinary ability to read auras and see past the guises of Others.” She gazed around the shop. “Are you here to deliver justice to an Earther?”

  Extraordinary indeed. “No. I’m here merely to visit. Are you afraid of me?” he asked quietly.

  She sipped her malted milkshake. “Should I be? I am afraid for my soda because you’ve been looking at it for the past five minutes.”