Touch of Lightning

by Carin Rafferty

  “That’s exactly what she feared,” Kendra replied, folding her hands in front of her in a lecturing pose. “Ulrich underestimated the power of the talisman. He thought that once it was broken up and a piece buried, it would be rendered powerless. But soon after Ragna put on the triangle, she began to change.”

  “Change how?” Sebastian questioned, the shimmer of unease growing stronger.

  “She began to subconsciously perform evil spells,” Kendra answered. “For instance, if someone irritated her, she’d think, ‘I hope he breaks a leg,’ and he would. At first she dismissed it as coincidence, but after several instances of wishing ill and having it come true, she realized something was wrong. Then her daughter got the croup and cried all the time. When Ragna found herself on the verge of wishing harm on the child, she went to Ulrich and told him what was happening to her.

  “Ulrich was upset, but he didn’t feel she’d been permanently corrupted,” Kendra went on. “She had, after all, only performed small, albeit malicious, spells. He told her to take off the triangle, sure that would solve the problem. But when Ragna tried to take it off, she couldn’t.”

  “Are you saying she was spellbound by the triangle?” Sebastian stated in disbelief.

  “Yes. Ulrich tried every spell he could think of, but nothing broke the enchantment. When Ulrich couldn’t help her, Ragna killed herself.”

  “Why wasn’t the council told about this? Even if, for some insane reason, Ulrich decided to keep it a secret, the narrators were obligated to report such an ominous incident to the council,” Sebastian stated angrily, though he wasn’t mad at Kendra. He was furious with himself for not consulting with the narrators before running off to South Dakota.

  Then again, they probably wouldn’t have told him any of this. They lived under a spell that prohibited them from speaking of anything that might affect the outcome of history in the making. If they violated that code, the spell governing them would instantly destroy them. The talisman’s resurrection was definitely a historical event, and telling him about Ragna’s fate would have influenced his decision on how to deal with the triangle. Once he put on the object, however, he’d exercised his free will. Divulging Ragna’s experiences now wouldn’t affect the outcome, because the die was cast.

  “Both Ulrich and my ancestors tried to make a report to the council, but the information wouldn’t transmit,” Kendra replied, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. “Every narrator in my family since then, including myself, has tried to mentally communicate the story to the council, but no one ever receives it. Grandfather Oran even went to Europe several years ago to tell them in person. By the time he got there, he’d forgotten why he’d gone, and he didn’t remember the talisman until he returned. It’s as if there’s some spell or power inhibiting us from reporting the information.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Sebastian said, frowning. “If you can’t communicate the information to the council of high priests, how can you tell Lucien and me the story?”

  She shrugged. “Grandfather Oran thinks . . .”

  “Thinks what?” Sebastian prodded, when her voice trailed off. Oran Morovang was the oldest warlock on this continent. He’d soon be celebrating his one hundred and twentieth birthday. Sebastian respected the insight that came with such an advanced age.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” she said, looking at him with a bemused frown. “He thinks the reason the information can’t be transmitted to the council of high priests is because the talisman was created on this continent. Thus, the knowledge of the talisman’s true purpose is limited to persons residing here. But Aodan Morpeth had the talisman nearly five hundred years before Christopher Columbus discovered the Americas, so Grandfather Oran has to be wrong.”

  “Not necessarily,” Lucien said. “There is archeological evidence that the Vikings discovered the Americas around the year 1000 A.D.”

  “You’re not suggesting that Aodan was here with the Vikings?” Sebastian asked incredulously.

  “That not only fits with Aodan’s time period, but his coven was on the Norwegian coast,” Lucien replied. “And remember, Aodan disap­peared for five years. When he returned with the talisman, he couldn’t remember where he’d been. It’s possible that he did make the trip with the Vikings.”

  Sebastian felt dizzy, and it had nothing to do with his astral state. “That’s conjecture. Let’s focus on what we know for sure. The triangle corrupted Ragna. She tried to take it off and couldn’t, so she killed herself. Neither Ulrich nor the narrators could communicate the information to the council of high priests, so Ulrich—at least I assume it was Ulrich— sealed the triangle into a dome and stored it in the repository. What can we honestly speculate from that information?”

  “That you are now wearing the triangle, and it has you spellbound,” Kendra answered.

  Sebastian jerked his head toward her. He knew that what she said was true, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Instead he said, “Not necessarily. Ragna was Seamus’s mate, and he also wore a triangle. The mating bond is so strong that that’s probably what stopped her from removing it. Also, Seamus was permanently corrupted by the talisman. It stands to reason that through the unbreakable emotional bond between them, he’d transfer his evil to her.”

  “Unless Oran is right and the talisman was created here,” Lucien rebutted. “Then the geological energies of this continent would have empowered the talisman, even when it was broken up. It could have been ruling over both Seamus and Ragna through their triangles.”

  “Again, that’s conjecture, and you don’t have one shred of evidence to support it,” Sebastian argued, refusing to acknowledge the fear erupting in his mind. They were wrong. He could take off the triangle, and as soon as he returned to his body, he would do exactly that.

  “But we do have evidence to support it,” Lucien countered. “Aodan couldn’t remember where he’d gotten the talisman. When you combine that fact with our narrators’ inability to transmit the information off this continent, it lends credence to the theory it was created here.”

  “It still doesn’t make sense,” Sebastian contended. “There are dozens of objects in Sanctuary that were created in Europe. They are no longer within the purview of their source energies, but they not only work, we know everything about them.”

  “But our race originated in Europe,” Kendra interjected. “We spent thousands of years dealing with the energies there, so we knew them intimately. When our ancestors came here with the Pilgrims, they had to learn the idiosyncracies of this continent’s forces.”

  “Exactly,” Lucien said. “Also, for nearly seven hundred years after Aodan showed up with the talisman, no one in the Morpeth family could put on the triangle, because they had an innate fear of it. That type of fear is generally caused by a subconscious recognition of evil forces. When Seamus’s father inherited the talisman in Europe, his fear was instilled there. Once the fear was implanted, he wouldn’t have gone near the talisman.

  “But Seamus’s first introduction to the object was in Massachusetts,” he continued. “Seamus was afraid of it, but Ragna said he was also beguiled by it, and he put it on despite his fear. That tells me that the talisman’s energy was at its peak, or it wouldn’t have been able to override his instinctive fears. The only way for it to reach that stage is to be aligned with the continental energies under which it was created.”

  “That’s insane!” Sebastian automatically objected. Unfortunately, he knew Lucien’s premise had too much potential to dismiss out of hand.

  “We’re veering from the point,” Kendra said. “It doesn’t matter where the talisman originated. It must be stopped.”

  “You’re right, Kendra,” Sebastian said. “And I’ve already spent too much time here. I need to get back.”

  “Before you go, is there anything else we should know?” Lucien asked.

 
“I suppose I should give you a brief outline of what’s going on. There’s a Native American involved. Her name is Sarah, and she has Seamus’s triangle. On the surface she appears innocent. I believe, however, that the talisman has chosen her as its instrument of destruction. There’s also a man named John Butler, who has the circle and is on his way to South Dakota. I haven’t linked with him, but Sarah has. According to her, he’s killed at least two people.”

  “That makes sense,” Kendra murmured. “If, as Ulrich suspected, the circle is the talisman’s primary force, then death would feed it, giving it more power to reach its goal.”

  “Maybe we could cast a spell that will stop this Butler,” Lucien suggested.

  Sebastian shook his head. “The talisman is shielding him, or I would have connected with him. So before we even tried something like that, we’d have to pinpoint his location. If we aren’t there to take the circle from him the moment the spell takes hold, it will just latch on to some other unsuspecting person.”

  “Can’t you get Butler’s location from the woman?”

  “No. She has amnesia.”

  “Amnesia?” Lucien repeated in disbelief. “How did she get amnesia?”

  “It’s too long a story to go into now. I need to get back and try to remove the triangle. If I succeed, it will return within the hour. If I can’t remove it, I’m bringing Sarah to Sanctuary.”

  “If the talisman has chosen her as its destructive weapon, bringing her here will put the coven in extreme danger,” Kendra pointed out.

  “If I don’t stop the talisman, all of mankind, including the coven, is doomed,” Sebastian rejoined. “And I don’t think having her here will be as dangerous as you think. When she mentally connected with me, she waited outside the magic circle surrounding Sanctuary. That suggests the talisman can’t penetrate our protective magic, and that gives us an edge. If I bring her here, it will force the talisman to bring John Butler and his circle to us and we may be able to defeat it.”

  “I hate this, Sebastian,” Lucien muttered furiously. “My life is finally getting on an even keel. I have a mate. I have children. I have every reason to believe that because I’m half mortal our race has a chance to survive. Now we may be wiped out because of a damn magical object that’s almost a thousand years old, maybe older.”

  “I know, Lucien, but I have to honestly say I’m not surprised by this. Visit the repository. There are literally hundreds, perhaps thousands, of objects in there that could be potentially catastrophic, and there are three more repositories in Europe.”

  “The sins of the father,” Lucien quoted softly.

  “What?” Sebastian asked, confused.

  “It’s a mortal saying,” Lucien explained. “It goes something like ‘The sins of the father are visited upon the son.’ And that’s what’s happening with us. While practicing the Old Ways, our people made objects that threaten our existence centuries, sometimes millennia, later.”

  “That’s a sobering thought,” Kendra said.

  “It’s also an absolute truth,” Sebastian stated grimly. “But I don’t have time for philosophical discussions. I have to get back to Sarah. If the triangle isn’t here shortly, prepare for the worst.”

  Before either Lucien or Kendra could respond, Sebastian let his image fade and willed himself back to South Dakota. His return was almost instantaneous, and his soul-mind entered his body with such ease that he was barely aware of the transition.

  The moment he opened his eyes, he grabbed the chain around his neck and tried to jerk it over his head. When he couldn’t even lift it away from his skin, fear coiled in his belly. The talisman had turned Seamus into a malevolent fiend and caused Ragna Morpeth to kill herself. Now it had its hold on him.

  At that moment, Sebastian knew he would never get out of this mess alive. But before he died, would he end up like Seamus? Or would he find the moral strength to follow in Ragna’s footsteps and commit suicide before the talisman turned him into some monstrous killing machine?

  Chapter 9

  Evil Enticed

  SARAH UNROLLED the sleeping bag in front of the fire and frowned down at it. Sebastian had told her to rest, but she knew there was no way she could rest when she didn’t know her identity. So instead of lying down, she prowled the cave, waiting for his return.

  After several minutes passed with no sign of him, she walked to the opening and glanced outside. How long could it take him to pick up a few sticks of wood? She listened for some sound that would tell her his location. All she heard, however, was the scurry of small animals and the hoot of an owl. When she heard a coyote’s lonesome howl, she shivered. The howl emphasized her own aloneness, and she wanted to call out to Sebastian.

  She squelched the impulse, because she knew he’d probably run back, thinking something was wrong. She’d feel like a fool confessing that she felt lonely and abandoned, even if it were the truth. He’d be back shortly. She just wished he’d hurry.

  Deciding that she needed something to occupy her until he returned, she glanced toward the old, battered trunk that sat against the far wall. Did it belong to her? If so, maybe its contents would prod her memory.

  She walked to the trunk and opened it, discovering a meager pile of clothes. Kneeling in front of the trunk, she removed a pair of denims and a fringed leather shirt, identical to the one she wore. Laying them aside, she lifted a long-sleeved, leather dress. Like the shirts, it laced up the front. Fringe hung from the sleeves and the hem. The bodice was ornately beaded in symbols that looked familiar, but she couldn’t recall their meaning. Withdrawing the dress, she found a pair of knee-high, buckskin moccasins, also elaborately beaded, and two changes of underwear. The remaining items were a stack of red cloth, cut into one-inch squares, a ball of twine, and a large tin of tobacco.

  “Prayer ties,” Sarah murmured, a memory stirring as she stared at the squares of cloth. She could see herself sitting on the cave floor. As she said a prayer, she placed a small amount of tobacco in the center of a fabric square. Then she folded up the corners to form a pouch and tied it with a section of twine. She repeated the process until she had a long, continuous string of pouches.

  The memory ended at that point, but Sarah knew that after completing the prayer ties, she would take them to a sweat lodge. During an Inipi ceremony—an ancient ritual of purification—she would offer the bundles as prayer offerings to the Great Spirits.

  “I’m Lakota!” she gasped, elated by the revelation.

  You are not Lakota.

  Sarah let out a startled yelp and pivoted on her knees to glance around the cave. She didn’t know why she searched for a person. The voice came from inside her. Yet she knew that it wasn’t a part of her, but someone— some thing—that communicated mentally. Was it a spirit?

  “Who are you?” she demanded, her tone quavery, as she stood and continued to search the cave. When there was no response, she changed tactics by asking, “If I’m not Lakota, then what am I?”

  Retrieve the triangle. It will tell you who you are.

  At the declaration, her mind conjured up an image of herself kneeling on the ground in a small meadow. She dug a hole in the dirt with her hands and buried a silver triangle attached to a silver chain. The image was so real she knew she’d performed the act, but she didn’t recognize the meadow. How could she find the triangle if she didn’t know where to go?

  Go outside. I will lead you to the triangle. It is time for you to know all.

  Sarah frowned. She’d heard those words before, but this time there was something different about them. Something that made her uneasy, distrustful. She waited for the voice to respond to her doubts. When it didn’t, she again walked to the cave opening and stared outside. Where was Sebastian? He’d been gone close to a half hour, maybe longer. It couldn’t take that long to find firewood.

  He’s abandoned you.<
br />
  Sarah spun around, again glancing around the cave. This time the voice seemed to come from behind her, but there was still no one there.

  “Dammit! Answer me. Who are you?” she stated, refusing to acknowledge the fear its charge evoked. Sebastian hadn’t abandoned her. He’d gone to get wood, and he was coming back.

  No. He’s abandoned you.

  Sarah tried to reject the words, but they clung tenaciously. As her fear increased, she turned and looked outside. What if the voice was right? If Sebastian had abandoned her, what would she do? She didn’t know who she was. She didn’t know where she was. Without him, she was lost and alone.

  “Sebastian? Where are you?” she called, deciding that she didn’t care if she ended up looking like a fool. She needed to know he was out there, that he was coming back.

  He didn’t answer, and she felt a knot of panic form in the pit of her stomach. Maybe something had happened to him. Should she look for him? No. When he came back and found her gone, he might leave for good.

  He’s already left. He’s abandoned you.

  “Stop it!” she cried, spinning around to again face the cave’s interior. “He is coming back! He is!”

  Retrieve the triangle, or you’ll be alone forever.

  Again she tried to reject the words, but they’d struck a painful chord inside her. She wrapped her arms across her chest and rubbed at her upper arms, trying to alleviate a chill that crawled from the inside out. She still didn’t know who she was, but she did know that she was alone. Had always been alone.

  Abandoned. By everyone.

  “Who are you? Why are you tormenting me?” she yelled, more frightened than angry, because she knew, deep in her heart, that the voice spoke the truth.

  Retrieve the triangle, or you’ll be alone forever.

  “I’m not going to listen to you,” she said, clamping her hands over her ears.