Sorcerer, shut the hell up. I’m trying to bloody concentrate!
“Have your teams nothing better to do than come up with half-baked ideas like that?” Barton Sinclair expostulated angrily. “I’ve never heard such a load of cock and bull in my life. Channelling the actual Matthew Hopkins who’s been dead close on five centuries? That’s the best anyone can come up with?”
Quinn sat forward, his eyes glinting, his hands clenched on the white tablecloth in front of him. “I can assure you, if that’s what Percy’s telling you, it’s probably the best idea we have. I have complete faith in him and his team.” Percy looked at him a little worriedly, and Quinn saw the unspoken guilt in his eyes. His Marshall knew he was in trouble for blurting out something he hadn’t told Quinn about in advance and something Quinn was now putting his head on a block for.
“The idea is not as fantastical as you may believe. There have been numerous stories based on factual research about the reincarnation of Matthew Hopkins throughout the centuries: Neville Chalminster’s ‘Rise of the Demon’ written in 1932, and Lucas Brevier’s ‘Witchfinder Reinstated’ from the late 1960s. They were both highly regarded Warlock historians and occultists and they both had some quite clear evidence that it might not be as farfetched as we think.”
Percy nodded in relief at Quinn’s quick comeback, leading Quinn to thank the stars that his passion for book collecting led him to be a constant researcher in both paranormal and supernatural oddities.
“So the idea may not be as absurd as you think. Percy and his team are still investigating and I’m sure that when he has more to share, he will do so.” He glared at Percy and Percy nodded, looking chagrined.
Later, out of earshot of anyone else, Quinn rounded on Percy, his face thunderous. “Fucking hell, Percy, don’t ever do that to me again! How could you have come out with something like that without at least telling me first? That bloody tosser Barton Sinclair could have had me by the short and curlies.”
Percy sighed, his face mutinous. “He was just being such a prick. I couldn’t let him talk to you the way he was doing. He’s such an arsehole, with that supercilious tone. It just slipped out. I was going to tell you after the dinner.”
Quinn shook his head in frustration. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I think I can handle that jackass myself. Now tell me about this theory you have.”
The two men were sitting in a small, private room in the conference facility, enjoying coffee and in Percy’s case, a cigar. He puffed away in enjoyment as Quinn watched him, amused. “I will never understand your predilection to those bloody things. How can you take all those poisons into your body?”
Percy shook his head sagely. “If you have to ask a man why he smokes a cigar, then there’s nothing more about it that I can explain to you.” He chuckled and leaned back in his armchair. “There’s an ancient text circa 1890 about a possible reincarnation of the Witchfinder General into a Warlock called Montague Druitt. He was a barrister, reputed to be a sexual deviant of some sort and also implicated in the Jack the Ripper murders. There is a lot of speculation, and the details are not clear, but it appears that he found an old Book of Shadows and tried out some of the spells in there and accidentally conjured up the spirit of Hopkins.” He frowned. “Why does this story sound so familiar? Anyway, no one really knows what happened, but for a while it appeared that Druitt was able to do things he’d never done before. Unfortunately he was found floating in a river when he was thirty-one years old, his pockets weighted down with stones. It was never determined whether it was a suicide or someone decided to get rid of him.”
Quinn listened in fascination. “We have this ancient text? I can’t say I’ve heard of it before. I’ll have to take a look at it.” He felt the usual stirrings of greed to possess this manuscript. Taliesin sounded excited when he spoke.
I have seen it. It is as your Marshall has said. Druitt was a very complex character, his ending fairly strange.
Percy nodded. “Yes, it’s in the Reponosium, along with other documents that seem to bear out the fact that something evil had occurred with Druitt. Some think he was killed for being a witch—hence the pocket full of stones and the whole drowning thing.”
The back of Quinn’s neck tingled and he leaned forward, his face alight with a sudden clarity. “The reason you feel the story is familiar is because we heard one very like it only a few weeks ago. The Book of Shadows found in Suffolk by that coven, where one of their witches was killed, the one Valensia now has. What if there’s a connection? Perhaps that spell book was responsible for whatever is making Jeremy Payton stronger. If they can do one spell, they might have done another one before.”
Percy’s face was stunned with the implication. “You’re right.” He looked at Quinn a little guiltily. “I’ve not managed to find out much about it yet. Valensia is really keeping it under wraps and with the way she is, no one really wants to ask her about it.” He coughed slightly. “Now, if it was you asking—”
Quinn shook his head vehemently. “No fucking way, I’m not going anywhere near that woman. You know what she did to me last time. That woman has no idea what the word ‘no’ means.”
Percy barely kept the smirk off his face and Quinn glared at him. Taliesin sniggered deep inside, a laugh mixed with some other emotion Quinn was unsure of.
“Yes, I’m aware of the horrible fate worse than death that you experienced as her sex toy.” Percy chuckled at the narrowed eyes and fierce frown of his Grand Master. “But she’ll talk to you and perhaps this time you can be forewarned, so you don’t get…imprisoned…again.”
Quinn still shook his head. “No bloody way, not unless it’s a last resort. And I mean last. In fact, that High Priestess who was there at the time the witch died… I’ll go see her first, see if she can tell me anything more than she already has. Perhaps there might be a clue there we can follow up. They may have performed some spell before this one and I might be able to see if there’s any connection.”
Percy nodded. “I’ll do that. But you know that one day you’ll have to find a way to get that book from her. There’s no way around it.”
“Yes, well, that’s a maybe. I still think we should get someone to steal it.”
His Marshall sighed. “No one will go near her. I can’t find a talented thief brave enough to take on Valensia’s wrath. You know you’re the only one who can convince her to hand it over.”
“But at what bloody cost?” Quinn muttered. “Death by sex? My sanity? Losing Cade? It’s not an option. Let’s see what the coven leader has to say first before you even think of prostituting me for the cause.” He chuckled grimly. “God, I hope to hell Cade never hears me saying something like that. He’d give me such a boxing that my ears would ring for a week.”
Percy laughed softly. “That he would.” He looked at Quinn slyly. “Talking of Cade, it’s probably about time you made your way home. I’m sure something might come up again if you got home early enough.”
Quinn flushed as he glowered at Percy, who kept a straight face.
“You think you’re so bloody funny, don’t you?” Quinn said, grinning slightly. “Just because you don’t get enough at home, don’t begrudge me mine.”
Percy shrugged his shoulders. “After nearly ten years, my wife and I still have great sex. Just not with each other.” He smiled wickedly. Having heard this comment from his friend before, Quinn was never quite sure whether Percy was joking or not.
Ten minutes later he was home, having invoked his Withinner to make the journey, but feeling a little green with the time travel. The house was dark, with only the dim wall sconces giving off a glow as he walked up the spiral staircase to the bedroom. It was past midnight and he was sure Cade would be sleeping. He tried to be quiet as he undressed then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He slid into bed and pulled the covers up over his waist as he turned over his side to face him.
Cade was still breathing steadily as he slept on his side turned away from Quinn. He r
eached out a hand, softly brushing Cade’s hair with his fingers, hearing his low, sleepy mutter. He leaned in and kissed the back of his head.
“Good night, baby,” he whispered before he too settled into sleep.
Chapter 4
Cade’s strong arms powered through the pond. As it was early January, the water was freezing and there were only a few swimmers hardy enough to take the plunge. Cade was oblivious to them as he swam through the murky water, his attention fully focused on reaching his goal: a bobbing buoy in the middle of the pond surrounded by ducks. Cade’s breathing was even as his strong legs propelled him forward in the water.
This was his release, to swim, out of the insidious grip of everyday life with its complications and emotions. The water offered a solace seldom felt, a place to forget everything and simply concentrate on the physical activity of staying afloat. It was his haven.
He reached the buoy and touched it, feeling a surge of triumph that he’d made it. He wiped water from his eyes and turned to wave at the shore where Quinn sat watching him. He refused to get into the water at these temperatures, saying drily Cade had an advantage with his Feyness and there was no way Quinn was risking frostbite with his extremities. He’d drawled lazily that would do neither of them any good for their sex life, a sentiment Cade had to agree with.
He bobbed around in the middle of the pond for a while, gazing around in pleasure at the trees and the foliage that surrounded the water, the tranquility and other worldliness of the area adding to its attraction. Then he sighed and took a few deep breaths, preparing for the swim back. Something brushed his foot and he moved it swiftly. He hoped it wasn’t a pike. The other fish he could put up with, but pike with their sharp teeth scared the hell out of him. He kicked out, feeling movement below him. The water was dark and he saw nothing. Cade turned and started his swim back. He’d only gone a few strides when something brushed against his side. Startled, he reached a hand into the water and shooed whatever it was away. It came back, insistently, stroking his side and Cade shivered. It felt too large to be a fish. Cade stopped swimming and held himself in place treading water. He saw ripples around him as the thing circled.
“Bugger off, you poxy fish,” he muttered, “Go back home and leave me be. Haven’t you got a dinner plate you need to be on?”
As he swam back to shore, the presence followed him at a distance. Cade’s strokes grew stronger as he tried to out-swim it, but it kept up easily, simply increasing its pace. He’d never felt anything like this before. If he’d been in the sea, he’d have thought it was a dolphin or similar, as the waves the thing was now causing got larger.
He gave a muffled salty curse as something grabbed his foot, a hand pulling him, softly, insistently, down into the water. He tried not to panic. His arms flailed above the water in an effort to resist whatever was dragging him into the murky depths, but finally, he was fully submerged in the dark brown depths of the lake. He tried to calm his beating heart and hold his breath. As his eyes grew accustomed to the murk, he saw a faint outline below, something definitely un-fishlike. It looked human and now terror rose in his aching chest. His lungs were burning. His hands and arms swept violently around his body as he tried to free himself. As he did, he heard faint hissing in the water, whispers that assailed his water-submerged ears, sounds that made no sense.
“Ella dimis zimus. Ella dimis zimus.”
Cade was truly panicking now, not only at the fact that he’d been underwater a while but that his lungs weren’t as overtaxed as they had been. His chest seemed lighter and he had an overwhelming urge to breathe the water in. Something resonated in his being, a little voice telling him to let go. It freaked him out because he knew if he did that, he would die. Instead he closed his eyes and made a last-ditch effort to break free and reach the surface. He would never know where the words came from, or even what they meant, but he heard himself shouting them in the water.
“Asé nomo de figo, asé nomo de figo!” As he repeated it for the second time, he was released and shot up toward the surface, taking a deep and heaving breath as he reached air.
*****
Sitting on the bank, with his coat around his shoulders, Quinn wondered, not for the first time, how this man of his managed to find the stamina to swim in the freezing depths of the heath pond. He shivered. He knew Cade loved the water, but short of someone throwing Quinn in kicking and screaming like a girl, nothing would induce him to join him. He watched Cade reach the buoy and turn and wave, then saw him begin the swim back. Quinn frowned now as he looked out across the expanse of water. Cade seemed to have disappeared. Quinn supposed he might have thought swimming under the water was the way to go, but he didn’t think the murky colour was quite conducive to that. He watched anxiously for a sign of him. Cade was a formidable swimmer with his Sprite heritage, but he still worried.
He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw a figure break out of the water and start the swim back. He stood up, noting the pace at which Cade was swimming. “Christ, talk about a swimming world speed record. What’s the damn hurry, Cade?”
Feeling a prickle of unease, he went down to the water’s edge to greet him as he got near the shore. Cade reached and gripped the metal stairs on the dock, his strong arms catapulting him out of the water. Quinn had to admire how Cade looked wet, the water droplets on his body beckoning him to lick them off. He tried to focus instead on a face which was dark with both anger and a touch of fear. Cade’s chest rose and fell as he struggled for breath after the frantic swim.
Quinn frowned. “Is everything all right?”
“No, it’s not bloody well all right. Something in that lake tried to pull me down into the water.” Cade picked up his towel and dried his hair fiercely, wiping his face and dropping it, sodden, to the ground. He picked up his sweatpants and tee shirt and started to pull them on over his wet Speedo jammer. Cade insisted on wearing them when he swum, saying it gave him more movement. In Quinn’s opinion, it had another purpose. His lover looked great in the tight costume and managed to fill it rather nicely.
“Perhaps it was a piece of pond weed or a fish?” he asked sympathetically.
Cade turned and glared at him. “It was not a weed or a fish. It swam beside me for a while then grabbed my foot and literally pulled me down under.”
Quinn’s spine tingled. “Why would someone want to pull you under? Do you think it was someone pulling a prank? Another swimmer, perhaps?”
Cade gazed at him, his breathing slowing down and his eyes meeting Quinn’s. “I heard voices down there. Whatever it was whispered something, I don’t have a bloody clue what they meant. It sounded like ‘elli dimi zimmi’ or something like that.” Cade gazed at him in confusion. “I heard their voices and all of a sudden I said something back, something I can’t remember. Whatever I said made them let go and I was able to get to the surface.” He reached out a hand and gripped Quinn’s arm. “What the hell was all that about?”
Quinn hitched a breath, thinking that what he’d feared had happened. Another Sprite had made contact with Cade.
Cade regarded him sombrely and his eyes narrowed. “You know what this is, don’t you? Tell me please, what the hell just happened to me?”
Quinn sat down on the bank, and motioned for Cade to sit next to him. “You’re freezing and you really need to get warmer. Here, put on your coat.” He picked up Cade’s heavy jacket and passed it over. Cade shrugged into it, his body still shivering.
“The heath is probably one of the most active areas for Sprites.” he said quietly. “I think one of your own kind just tried to send you an invitation.”
Cade gazed at him open mouthed. “A Sprite?”
Quinn nodded. “These lakes are known to have a high population of your kind. These waters are old and there’s a lot of magyck in them.”
“They bloody well tried to drown me!” Cade exclaimed indignantly.
Quinn chuckled softly. “You wouldn’t have actually drowned, and you certainly wouldn’t have d
ied. If you use the power given to you and another Sprite shows you how, you can breathe underwater.” He let his words sink in, seeing Cade’s look of incredulity, and he smiled as he reached over and chucked his chin gently. “Close your mouth. You don’t want to catch flies.”
Cade shut his mouth obediently as he looked at him with eyes that were disbelieving. “I can learn to breathe underwater? I don’t have gills, though—do I?” He scowled. “And why haven’t you told me that before?”
He looked so horrified at the thought Quinn laughed out loud. “You’re thinking like a human, not a Sprite. You don’t need gills. It’s magyck. It lies within you and its part of your inheritance from your mother.” He sighed. “I was worried someday one of them might try something like this. It was only a matter of time but it’s sooner than I’d expected. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about this, but I honestly thought it wouldn’t happen for a while.” He shook his head. “The other Sprite sensed you and probably thought you’d be fine. It had no way of knowing you were a Sprite virgin.” He smiled faintly and leaned over to move a strand of wet hair off Cade’s face. “You’re shivering. Come on. It’ll be dark soon and you need to get you home and all warmed up.” He grinned. “We can try that body heat thing everyone talks about. Just bare skin, me and you, and that should make you toastier.”
He stood up, pulling Cade to his feet as his boyfriend shook his head in amusement. “Is that all you think about, getting naked and having sex?”
Quinn raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Is there anything else worth doing?”
Cade chuckled, his earlier distress seeming to dissipate now that he had an explanation as to what had happened.
“Well, it just opens the door to me once again asking you to tell me more about what being a Sprite is all about. I know we’ve talked about it recently but I still get the feeling you’re not telling me everything.” He leaned forward and ran a cold hand down Quinn’s cheek. “Instead you distract me with your body and promises of raunchy sex. And while I love that idea and may find myself so distracted, it’s not going to work on me forever, Quinn.” His face grew more serious. “Especially if it’s going to lead to finding myself in situations like this one.”
Double Alchemy: Climax Page 4
