Reckoning

by J. C. Wilder

  And who had red, glowing eyes?

  Minions.

  “What is it?”

  Shai appeared beside him, her gaze fixed on the woods as she pulled on her jacket. One of the creatures moved out of the woods, just far enough that it could be clearly seen.

  “What are they doing here?”

  “No idea. They don’t normally leave her side unless she gives them a task.” Nudging Shai away, he reached into the car and retrieved a black leather case. After slamming the door shut, he took her hand. “Let’s get inside and see what’s going on.”

  Lacing his fingers through hers, he led the way up the walk only to come to an abrupt halt. In the center of the walk, a sword lay pointing at them. On either side of the walk was a narrow white line in the grass that vanished on either side of the house.

  “It’s a salt circle. A witch is here,” he said.

  “Could it be Mortianna?”

  Val shook his head. “I doubt it. It’s not her style. Her middle name is overkill so she’d be more likely to use fire-breathing dragons. A salt circle isn’t dramatic enough for her.”

  Shai held up her hand, feeling the air with her palm. “We can’t enter.”

  “Not without permission.”

  She glanced over her shoulder toward the trees, her brow furrowed. Val squeezed her hand reassuringly.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not without a plan.”

  “Yeah, but did you tell them that?”

  He grinned and closed his eyes. Sending out his energy, he sought Maeve within the confines of the house. Finding her, he bade her come outside and grant them entrance. Within seconds, the front door was thrown open and Maeve stepped outside, a knife held before her in a defensive stance. Behind her stood a man Val didn’t recognize.

  “Val?” Maeve peered into the darkness.

  “Just your friendly neighborhood vampires come to pay a call,” he said.

  “We’ve come to suck your blood,” Shai called out in the worst imitation of Bela Lugosi he’d ever heard.

  “Well, come in. Why are you standing out here?” Her tone was bewildered.

  “They can’t come in until we invite them.” The stranger stepped around Maeve.

  Val’s gaze locked on him, his preternatural abilities kicking into high gear. Judging from the energy surrounding the stranger, here was the witch who’d laid the circle. Tall and blond, the man’s gaze was direct and unfaltering as he approached.

  “He’s either brave or foolish,” Shai whispered.

  “Aye.”

  Any man who’d look an elder vampire in the eye was someone to be reckoned with. Val made a mental note to keep a close eye on this one.

  “How do we invite them in?” Maeve slid her knife into her boot and jogged to catch up with the stranger.

  “Pick up the sword and say, ‘All who walk in light are welcome here’.”

  Val resisted the urge to smile. Whoever he was, he was intelligent. If those who dared to breach the circle were of dark intent, harm would befall them. What that harm would consist of would be interesting to see. Too bad his intent was pure, this time at least.

  The chilling slide of steel over stone brought his attention back as Maeve lifted the sword from the ground. Her voice was soft and even as she repeated the witch’s words and stepped away to allow them entrance.

  Val squeezed Shai’s hand then stepped past the salt line, pulling her with him. Power flowed warm over his skin, and he heard his woman utter an inarticulate gasp before the wave subsided.

  Maeve and Shai threw their arms around one another for a hearty hug, and Val’s gaze met the stranger’s over their heads. While he and Shai had passed the first test, there would be more ahead.

  An off-key whistle pierced the night, causing them to turn. Two of the minions broke from the shadows and flew at the unprotected opening. Without a sound, the stranger grabbed the sword from Maeve’s hand and pushed both women out of harm’s way. Just as the creatures reached the ring of salt, he replaced the sword on the ground pointing outward.

  With a flash, one minion’s brown robes burst into flames. It screamed, a piercing, animal-like sound, as it flailed about, the flames growing larger and fiercer. Within seconds it had collapsed into a burning pile just outside the salt ring, the scent of burnt wool and something sweet permeated the night.

  The other one, seeing the demise of its cohort, came to an abrupt halt in midair. A low hiss emitted from the hood and it moved away, zipping back to those waiting near the woods.

  “Well, what next, fireworks?” Shai murmured.

  “I wish,” Maeve breathed.

  Val took his lover’s arm when she tried to move forward to inspect the burning remains. Instead he pulled her into his arms. For now they were safe. He looked at the stranger, who watched him with a guarded, yet approving, expression.

  The lines were drawn. No matter what happened, both men would do whatever they could to shield their women from harm.

  “What do you think is wrong with Sinjin, Val?”

  Quinn heard the apprehension in Maeve’s voice. He glanced at her stone-faced friend. Whatever the vampire was thinking, none of it showed in his expression.

  “Mortianna is leeching his powers,” Val spoke. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “How does she get past Sinjin’s guards?” Shai asked. “I thought once a vampire invoked them they were impermeable.”

  “Not from everything, I’m afraid.” Val said. “She’s obviously very determined,”

  Maeve frowned. “But why? What does she want from him?”

  “I’m not sure.” Val shrugged. “Maybe she wants to kill him. By siphoning off his power she renders him vulnerable to anyone who would wish him harm.”

  “So, in this state, he can be killed?” Sunni’s voice was soft and filled with pain.

  “Yes. Vampires acquire various powers as they age, some more than others. Given Sinjin’s advanced age, he’s very strong indeed. Somehow Mortianna is taking those powers away, one by one, literally stealing his life force.”

  “She’s using the A’ bhais Cadail.” Quinn caught Maeve’s startled gaze from across Sinjin’s unconscious body.

  Good. Let her see firsthand what the spell she seeks could do to someone. It destroys lives.

  She looked away.

  “How can we break the spell?” Val spoke.

  “We can’t.”

  “What do you mean we can’t?” Shai stepped forward. “We can’t just stand here and watch him die.”

  “There’s no counter-spell that I know of.” Quinn shook his head. “You have to understand what it is and what it’s used for. She’s put him in a trance similar to a coma. But in this dream state, Mortianna can perpetrate any ill upon him she wishes. If he were awake and aware, he could fight back, but, as is, he’s a sitting duck.”

  “What if we move him?” Sunni laid her hand on Sinjin’s arm. “What if she couldn’t find him?”

  “Wouldn’t matter. Once the spell is cast, there’s nowhere on earth we can hide him where Mortianna couldn’t harm him.”

  “We have to do something.” Sunni turned to Quinn, her gaze beseeching. “We can’t just let her kill him.”

  “What about Mac?” asked Shai. “Can he do something?”

  Maeve shook her head. “Both Mac and Fayne are still in Colorado, trying to find Renault.” Her gaze met Quinn’s and he saw such pain in their depths. “I don’t think we have much time.”

  Quinn looked at the still face of the vampire. He had the face of a warrior, strong, commanding yet more than a hint of humanity lurked also. Even in this dark sleep, laugh lines around his eyes and mouth proclaimed him as kind. It was easy to see how he’d beguiled Bliss into becoming a revenant as he had tall, dark and handsome sewn up.

  “Did Bliss love him?” he asked of the room at large.

  “Very much so,” Shai spoke.

  “Bliss was an exceptional woman, and her loss is felt very deeply among many of us.�
� Val touched his breastbone in a gesture that conveyed his sorrow. “Centuries ago she and Sinjin were crazy in love, and one night he evaded Mortianna’s watchful eye and stole away with her daughter.

  “He brought her here, to Aisling Croch, the stronghold he’d built for her and it was here he made her an immortal. She told me she’d begged him for years before he’d even consider taking that final, irrevocable step.”

  “She was terrified something would happen to him, that her mother would step in and end his life.” Shai spoke in hushed tones. “She said she couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from her one true love for all eternity.”

  “I thought all witches were immortal,” Sunni spoke.

  “They can be,” Quinn said. “Some are born that way while others use their magic to achieve it.”

  “I think Bliss wanted more from life than her mother would allow. She told me once that witchcraft didn’t come easily to her. Many years ago she tried a love spell for a friend, and the would-be lover fell in love with the twin sister instead.” Val shook his head. “It was a constant source of strife between the mother and daughter.”

  Sorrow pierced Quinn’s heart. His mother sent him away because he was male, not anticipating giving birth to a daughter of questionable talent. Sometimes the Goddess had a sick sense of humor.

  “It takes more than being born of a witch to be a witch,” Quinn acknowledged.

  “After Bliss became a revenant, she lost what few powers she’d possessed.” Val continued, “Oh, she could still do a few spells, charms and chants mostly, but Mortianna was enraged, and she came after both of them. Only her love for her daughter kept her from killing Sinjin. Bliss made her mother swear to leave Sinjin alone and in exchange, she broke off her relationship with him.”

  Quinn nodded. This part of the story he knew. Mortianna had kept her word, and Sinjin had lived in peace for hundreds of years. Years that he’d buried himself in his chronicles while Bliss flitted from one end of the earth to the other looking for a place to heal her broken heart. He feared his sister never found the peace she’d sought and had died restless and unfulfilled.

  And when she passed over, all guarantees for Sinjin’s safety had gone with her. Now her lover would lose his life because he’d dared to love a daughter of the light.

  Quinn shook his head. So much waste, so much destruction and for what reason?

  His sister was dead, her lover dying and Mortianna was running the show like a macabre puppet-master who pulled strings of others at will. When would she learn that one should never tryst with the fates? To hurt someone else for personal gain went against everything his father had taught him to value. Life was precious, and it should be saved at all costs.

  It was time to end it.

  “There’s one thing we can try.” He looked over at Maeve. “I need you to find me some light-colored paint.” He turned to Sunni and Shai. “Bring me the big floor candelabras from the upper gallery. The ones that hold the single, tall, fat white candles—I need five.”

  Without a word, Sunni and Shai scrambled from the cramped room with Maeve following at a slower pace. Her expression was quizzical, yet she said nothing. He nodded reassuringly, and she walked out the door.

  “We need to get him out of here,” he said to Val.

  Val’s brow furrowed as he assessed the walls of the underground chamber. “You’re sure?”

  He nodded. “While vampires feel safer below ground, I can help him more if he’s above. Being underground is unnatural for a witch.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  With his vampire strength, Val lifted Sinjin from his deathbed and slung him over one shoulder. Quinn picked up the flashlight. One corner of his brain noted the incongruity of his actions. Vampires were creatures of darkness and many of them, even after having aged to the point of being able to walk in the daytime, spent most of their lives in the dark.

  Now, a witch was about to introduce Damien St. James to the light.

  Maeve adjusted the small silk pillow under Sinjin’s head as Shai straightened the white sheet they’d covered him with. They were almost ready. She stepped back, careful to avoid the still-damp pentagram painted on the priceless Italian marble floor.

  Sinjin wouldn’t be too happy about it but she could only hope he lived long enough to give her holy hell.

  The pale-blue figure wasn’t perfectly even, but she hoped it would do. Art had never been her strongest subject in school.

  The scene was eerily reminiscent of Bliss’s funeral chamber, minus the flowers and glass coffin. Even the minions were in attendance this evening. Beyond the ceiling to floor windows and the salt circle, the darkness was thick, but she could still feel their malevolent presence, waiting, watching.

  “They can see us.” Her voice was scratchy.

  “Let them.” Quinn stepped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She resisted the urge to lean into his warmth if only for a few seconds. “Mortianna will know within minutes what we’re about to do. The minions will carry the tale directly to her.”

  She took a deep, cleansing breath. In the center of the pentagram, Sinjin lay on the polished oak table. His normally animated face was so still, so cold. There had been times over the past year she’d forgotten he was a vampire at all. Even though neither had asked for their particular circumstances, he’d made an effort to see to her comfort and well-being while she resided under his roof.

  Vampire or not, he was a good man.

  On the other side of the table stood Sinjin’s oldest friend, Val. They looked so much alike they could pass for brothers to those who didn’t know better. With one arm around his mate and the other around Sunni, his haunted gaze rested on Sinjin’s face.

  Shai stared out the window, scowling into the darkness where the minions hovered, waiting for an opening. Every now and then she would flash her razor-sharp fangs as if to warn not to come any closer.

  Sunni looked utterly and completely desolate. Her slim hands were curled into fists and her eyes swam with unshed tears. In her mortal life she’d been a dancer, flapper, flower child and an artist. She was a gentle soul who only wanted to love her friends and explore the endless possibilities of her limitless life. Adversity, struggle and unpleasantness were totally alien to her. She’d always reminded Maeve of a princess, fresh from the pages of a storybook.

  Her gaze returned to Val. He was an elder, and he could more than take care of himself. As young vampires, Shai and Sunni were the most vulnerable to harm. But they’d be safe as long as Quinn and Val were around to care for them.

  She reached for Quinn’s hand, which still rested on her shoulder. “Thank you for what you’re doing for him, for all of us. They mean a great deal to me.”

  “And you mean a great deal to them.” His voice sounded close to her ear. “Do you not feel their love for you?”

  Disturbed, she pulled out of his loose embrace. She didn’t deserve it. Not their friendship or their love, especially from Quinn. If he knew about her past and her plans for revenge, he’d abandon her as her family had. Her destiny was to remain alone for however long she lived.

  “Yes, I do.” Her voice was soft. Shaking off her melancholy, she turned to face him. “So what do we need to do now?”

  “For now, nothing. I’m going to meditate then we’re going to cast a spell of protection. You and everyone else can relax for a little while, but you need to be in position at five minutes ’til midnight.”

  She looked at her watch to confirm the time. They had fifteen minutes before the show began. Hopefully within thirty minutes they would know if anything could be done to save Sinjin from Mortianna’s wrath.

  Lifting her head, she watched Quinn exit the pentagram and move about ten feet beyond the central point. Gracefully he lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the floor.

  Their gazes locked, and a tremor of apprehension rippled through her. In that moment a fear like none other crowded her throat. Nothing could happen to him or her fri
ends. She wouldn’t allow it.

  He smiled, and her apprehension faded in warmth of his expression. She trusted this man whom she’d known only a few days. And if there was anyone who could pull this off and secure Sinjin’s safety, it would be Quinn.

  She returned his smile.

  Carefully he removed his shoes, then his shirt, setting them aside. Placing his hands palm up, one on each knee, he closed his eyes and removed himself from the room to be surrounded by his magic.

  A chill raced down her spine.

  Already he was lost to her in more ways than one.

  Chapter Eight

  “It’s time.”

  Maeve’s nerves were frayed by the time Quinn broke the silence. The past fifteen minutes had felt like an eternity as the second hand of her watch crept closer to the twelve. Her heart raced as she pulled a book of matches from her pocket. When she attempted to light it, she failed because her hands were shaking too much.

  Calm down, girl!

  Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly before trying again. The match burst into flame, and she held it against the wick until it too began to burn. Her friends, each positioned at another point in the pentagram followed suit.

  Barefoot, Quinn had changed his clothing. Baggy cotton pants and an oversized long-sleeved shirt in off-white gave him a vaguely hippy-esque air. If it weren’t for his super-short haircut, all he’d need was a set of bongos and he’d be able to lose himself in the Haight-Ashbury district in San Francisco.

  Her lips twitched at the image of her lover masquerading as a make-love-not-war hippie.

  Elaborate, embroidered runic symbols in gold and red decorated both the collar and hem of the shirt. Her throat tightened. How could he look so calm, so confident when she wanted to start screaming and never stop? Sinjin’s life hung in the balance, and Quinn looked as if he were going to fall asleep.

  As if he’d heard her inner struggle, his pale gaze met hers. Instantly her pulse slowed and calm washed through her. There was something different about him, a lightness that hadn’t been there before now. The strength that had enabled him to stand up to Mortianna was there, but it was surrounded by such a sense of serenity that Maeve felt her eyelids grow heavy. The tension left her body, and somehow she knew that whatever was about to happen would be okay.