The Coven looked in libraries, book shops, manuscript collections, and records of their coven and others’, interviewing elder witches and utilizing everything from the technology of the Internet to poking around dusty, forgotten shelves in shop corners. A few traveled to the place where the Immortals had last been called—the fateful day Tain had disappeared—to see if knowledge of the spell lingered there. But the witches sent report after report in the next days, telling Amber they’d found nothing.
Amber contacted local covens and searched through every book on witchcraft, published and unpublished, she could get her hands on. They researched around the clock, Amber barely looking up from her computer. Adrian didn’t like Amber leaving the protection of the house, so she spent most of the time on the phone and the Internet, and going through books that Valerian and Sabina fetched for her.
But even holing up with her books, Amber sensed the danger outside, the growing darkness in the city, heard it every time she turned on the news, saw it in Adrian’s grim expression every time he came home. Vampires and demons were no longer shy about attacking and killing people they’d lived next to for years. Adrian and Valerian had seen no sign of Tain or the demon, but Tain knew where Adrian and friends were. It was only a matter of time before the demon decided to mount another attack.
Amber researched and watched the clock, while Valerian and Adrian went out armed, coming home blood streaked and tired. Detective Simon called often to check on Amber, sounding strained and stretched as well. The police’s paranormal unit was working double shifts and overtime trying to keep the city safe, the detective said, but failing miserably. The vampires were too well organized, and demons were happy to break free of restrictions. Septimus, who might have been able to help keep them in line, had his own hands full in Los Angeles.
When a witch in Amber’s own coven was murdered—stalked to her house and slaughtered just outside her door—Amber called the rest of her coven to stay at her house, under protection of Adrian’s magic. They arrived, white-faced and frightened, or stern and angry.
“The Goddess will take her retribution,” one of them said.
“Or Adrian will,” Amber promised.
The dozen witches overran the big house, which drove Valerian crazy, but they helped with research on the spell and keeping in touch with the Coven of Light.
But as much as they searched, Beltane drew near without Amber or the Coven of Light coming close to finding the spell.
* * *
The problem was, a member of the Coven of Light pointed out on the loop, that the Calling spell had been passed along in oral tradition back when most witches had been illiterate. Even for witches who had been able to read, it had been dangerous to write out spells, because of the witchfinders. If the last Calling had occurred seven hundred years ago, any information about it likely had been destroyed by the Inquisition in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.
Then again, another member pointed out, the Inquisition also kept copious records of everything. Coven members in Europe were then sent to comb archives to see whether the Inquisition had questioned a witch who’d known of the Calling spell.
Adrian, when he wasn’t out defending the city against demons and vampires, helped in the research and also attempted to locate his brothers on his own. But he never left Seattle. He moved in with Amber without stating that he was doing so, sending for things from his house in Los Angeles and settling in without making a production of it.
He melded his magic with Amber’s witch wards and the magic of the witches staying in the house, strengthening them tenfold. When the demon returned, he explained, they needed this place to be a fortress.
Valerian also stayed in Amber’s house, when he wasn’t visiting Sabina and her werewolf family or out helping Adrian. He complained about never having any bathroom time in a house full of women, but stayed up all night, sitting out on the porch, guarding. When Amber thanked Valerian for it, he only made a smart-ass remark about the porch in the middle of the night being the only place to get away from female chatter. Amber smiled at him and left it at that.
As April drew to a close, the Coven of Light still had no leads. Adrian also hadn’t succeeded in finding any sign of his brothers, who were proving to be even more elusive than the spell.
“You should have pagers,” Amber told him one morning as she drowsed in bed with him.
They always shared a bed when Adrian wasn’t out fighting, but though he made love to Amber with thoroughness and sometimes in a frenzy, Amber sensed she was losing him.
Once the other Immortals appeared, he would leave her, she realized. Not in a cruel and thoughtless way, but because he’d want to keep her safe while he fought the battle that needed to be fought.
Maybe a clean break was best, Amber tried to tell herself. I get on with my life, he goes back to being an Immortal warrior made to save the world. He’ll move on through the centuries, and I’ll live out my life as a normal person. The most sensible course of action.
But sharp pain twisted her heart. I’ll miss him . . .
“That’s what the Calling spell is,” Adrian answered now, his voice rumbling in the growing daylight. “An Immortal pager.”
“I meant something more up to date.”
He laughed softly, tracing patterns on her bare back. “I can’t even keep track of my own cell phone. If you gave Hunter an electronic pager, he’d probably eat it.”
Amber raised her brows. “Why?”
“Because he’s crazy. Not like Tain is crazy, but—Hunter does his own thing. He likes to act insane to scare the bejesus out of his enemies. It works.”
Amber had become used to Adrian, a powerful being who kept his power in check so he wouldn’t blast holes in the walls or flatten everyone in his path. She’d also seen the insanity in Tain’s eyes, which had been terrifying.
What would the other Immortals be like? Kalen, Darius, Hunter? Did they gentle themselves for the less powerful or see no reason to keep their strength in check?
Adrian’s eyes held impenetrable darkness that could grow warm with desire or ice cold, shutting out everything and everyone. Amber skimmed her hands over his body, feeling the contained power thrumming beneath his skin. He should frighten her, but Amber craved him with every breath.
Adrian stopped her questions by pulling her down to him for a long, passionate kiss.
That evening after sunset he left with Ferrin, as usual, and didn’t return until nearly dawn.
“Vampires on the rampage downtown,” he said to Amber and Valerian in the warm kitchen of the still-sleeping house. Adrian’s arms were covered with healing cuts, Ferrin sulky and sleeping in a box with a cushion Amber had fixed up for him. “An Old One was guiding them, one who doesn’t share Septimus’s views on keeping the balance between life and death magic. They’ve been killing. An awful lot of people.”
“And what did you do?” Valerian asked, warming his hands on a mug of coffee. “Or do I need to ask?”
Adrian smiled ferociously. “Killed the Old One. Kicking vampire ass never loses its charms.”
He rose and lifted Ferrin from the box. The snake hissed once, but slithered up Adrian’s arm and became a silver coil. “Tain and his demon are going through the world like evangelistic crusaders. I’m going back out to do some crusading of my own. Come with me,” he said to Valerian.
“Sure thing.” The dragon-man got to his feet. Adrian strode out the door without a good-bye, his attention fixed on finding dangers of the night. Valerian started to follow then stopped, snapping his fingers as though he’d forgotten something. “You go ahead,” he called. “I’ll catch up.”
It was an obvious ploy to talk to Amber out of Adrian’s hearing, but Adrian merely nodded and walked off the porch into the last of the night.
Valerian leaned his hands on the kitchen table and spoke to Amber in a low voice. “Adrian truly loves Tain. That’s all I’ve heard for years—how Tain was Adrian’s favorite, the wonderful things Tai
n did. Adrian never came out and said he adored the guy, but you can tell, you know?”
“I know.” Amber folded her arms, hands cold on her skin. “That’s how I felt about Susan.”
“Then you’ll understand what I’m about to say.” Valerian’s usual good-natured expression had gone, his eyes more somber than Amber had ever seen. “When Adrian finds Tain, he’ll try to help him. No matter what Tain does, no matter what kind of monster he becomes, Adrian will reach out and try to find the brother he loves. The rest of us need to make certain Tain and the demon are stopped. If that means putting an eternal binding spell on Tain or chopping him up and shoving the pieces into separate boxes, that’s what we’ll do. Because Adrian won’t.”
Amber nodded. “I’ve thought of that. I pretty much figured we’d have to try to kill Tain somehow.” She sighed. “And Adrian will hate us if we do, probably me most of all.”
“Exactly. So are you going to be able to handle this?”
“Because I’m in love with him?” Amber paused a moment then swallowed. “I have to handle it, don’t I? I got a good look into Tain’s eyes. He’s crazy and he’s ultra-powerful, not a good combination.”
“If Adrian can sweet-talk Tain and make him better, I’m all for it,” Valerian said. “But if he can’t, the rest of us have to do something. Will you promise me that, if you decide you can’t help put down Tain, you’ll at least stay out of the way so I can kill him?”
Amber thought about the infatuation and hatred warring in Tain’s eyes when he’d gazed at the demon, how he’d barely acknowledged Adrian, his beloved older brother. Tain had closed himself off from the world a long time ago, she’d seen. He’d turned into a monster willing to sacrifice anything and anyone to ease his own pain. Amber had the feeling Adrian patting him on the shoulder wasn’t going to stop him.
Amber also knew that, if she helped rid the world of the one thing Adrian considered the most special in his existence, Adrian would never forgive her. He might understand that it was necessary, but whatever affection he felt for Amber would be compromised.
She nodded to Valerian, a hollowness in her heart. “I promise,” she said. “And I’ll help. I swear this.”
* * *
On Beltane Eve, the thirtieth of April, Amber found the Calling spell.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Amber had located it in a small museum in rural France. The spell had been scribbled in Old French on a piece of parchment that had been framed and used in an exhibit called Witches of Our Past.
Amber had seen the framed document on the museum’s tiny online catalog and had asked Christine Duncan, a powerful Coven of Light witch traveling in France, to take a look at it in person. Christine had called Amber excitedly once she’d visited the museum and said she was sure it was indeed the Calling spell.
The spell had been written down, so the museum said, by an elderly magus who had wanted to preserve a bit of folk magic. According to the curator, the page had been lost for centuries and turned up recently in a crumbling collection donated by a widow who had cleaned out her attic.
The curator, and a history professor from a nearby university, worked to translate it into modern French at Christine’s request, then into English for Amber. Christine faxed copies to her.
Amber scanned the fax, her fingers tingling in relief and anticipation. She opened her Book of Shadows on her desk and began to write up a ritual that would incorporate the spell and its powerful magic into their celebration.
Amber’s neighbors had decided to put aside their fears for one night and hold their spring celebration as usual. They’d turned Beltane into an annual barbeque and drinking fest. If the local witches wanted to gather in a circle and chant and dance . . . whatever. It was always a great party.
Even those uncomfortable with the paranormal felt the power of this night, the magic of the God and the fertility festival, and decided to enjoy themselves. They helped Sabina, Valerian, and Amber’s coven set up the Maypole festooned with ribbons in the strip of green that ran behind Amber’s house.
Amber glanced at the activity with a pang in her heart as she worked. Her family had always hosted the annual Beltane celebration, and Amber felt a sudden longing for a family that would take the tradition into the next generation. The longing was more than just to have someone to carry on for her—Amber was alone now, the laughter and dynamic of families absent from her life. She longed for the warmth and camaraderie again, and she knew who the impossible man was that she wanted to start a family with.
Amber finished the ritual, typed it up, and sent it to the Coven of Light loop, explaining what she needed them to do. Because there wasn’t time to gather the Coven in person, they would participate in the circle as they had when they’d helped rescue Adrian. They’d scry, in stones or crystals, water or fire, as their talents dictated, and send their powers from afar. On Amber’s end, their powers would be gathered in crystal stones held by Amber and local witches, who would also lend their powers.
The spell itself was fairly simple, but it needed a very careful focusing of great amounts of magic. The Coven of Light had warned her that, even with all of them joining in, the spell might not work. But Amber had an Immortal at her disposal, and she’d already asked Adrian to act as a conduit for the Coven’s power, to enhance their magic with his own.
And he would . . . if he showed up in time. Adrian had gone out very early that morning, and now, as the sun set, he still hadn’t returned.
In the drawing dark, Amber hastened through her house, already in her blue satin robes, embroidered with crescent moons and the horns of the goddess Hathor. Her worry escalated when she found Adrian’s cell phone on her bedside table, the battery run down. No way for her to contact Mr. Immortal and see if he was all right.
She wondered if she could face the other Immortals if the Calling actually worked without Adrian at her side. Would they listen to her and do what she needed them to do? Or sneer at her, blast her with their powers, and disappear into the night? Adrian’s descriptions of them hadn’t been particularly reassuring.
Darkness increased and her neighbors lit the paper lanterns hung on porches up and down the block. They glowed like colorful flowers against the night. But still no Adrian.
Amber opened the refrigerator and removed crowns of flowers and fresh leaves she’d stored since she and the other witches had completed them. Valerian had grumbled that they’d left no room for the beer he’d wanted to stock for the night.
Amber carried the crowns outside and gave them to her coven, who were already gathering in the place they would cast the circle. The ceremony would begin soon, and if Adrian remained absent, she’d need a stand-in for the High Priest.
“Valerian,” Amber said, worry in her voice.
The dragon-man turned and held up his broad hands. “Don’t ask me where Adrian is. I have no idea.”
“If the demon and Tain have caught him . . .”
“I know,” Valerian said. He lit the last paper lantern on the porch and tossed down the spent lighter. “I’ll go look for him.”
Amber longed to go with him, but the High Priestess needed to stay put. Amber knew she technically shouldn’t be High Priestess, because she didn’t have the seniority or experience that some of the others in the coven had, but the witches had agreed that Susan would have wanted Amber to take her place tonight.
Fire pits began lighting up the strip of green, and backyard grills were wheeled out, picnic tables laid with food and drink. Beltane for her neighbors had become a grand celebration of spring, an acknowledgement that the wet, cold winter had turned and good weather was just around the corner.
Neighbors hugged Amber when they saw her and expressed their condolences. They were distressed by Susan’s loss, a young woman most of them had known since childhood. Tears filled Amber’s eyes as she moved from group to group, talking about Susan and remembering her.
When it was fully dark, the waxing moon rising in its backwards C crescent
, the witches beckoned Amber to prepare the circle. The neighbors moved back to their tables to eat and drink and watch curiously as the witches performed their rituals. The other witches had already donned their flower garlands, but the High Priest would crown Amber during the ritual.
If he ever showed up.
Amber drew a circle lightly in the earth, then she and the others placed flowers around the circumference. It was a big circle this year, with all the local witches participating. They said prayers as they worked, asking for blessings and remembering Susan and the witch who’d been recently killed.
Amber placed fat green candles at the four quarters—east, west, north, and south. She and the others set the altar on the north side of the circle, and put on it a statuette of the Goddess and one of the God, a censor of frankincense, a bowl of water and one of salt, stones for prosperity and fertility, and more green candles. Streamers of multicolored ribbons hung from nearby trees, completing the beauty of the circle.
Behind the circle rose the Maypole, a seven-foot post decorated with long ribbons and flowers. The neighborhood kids liked to do the Maypole dance, weaving ribbons in and out and around it, innocent of its symbolism. Or maybe not innocent. Kids knew so much these days.
“Stop looking at the Maypole and thinking of Adrian,” one of the witches said, her garland swaying as she laughed. “You’ll get to play God and Goddess soon enough.”
The comment only made Amber’s nervousness increase. When Valerian and Sabina appeared on her back porch, she abandoned the circle preparation and raced to them. “Did you find him?”
Valerian shook his head. “I flew all over this damned town. Never saw him.”
“Not a scent of him,” Sabina said.
“It’s unnerving how you do that,” Valerian said to her.
From Jennifer Ashley, With Love: Three Paranormal Romances from Bestselling Series Page 69
