A Spartan's Kiss (12 page)

Scrying usually meant she had to have something from the person she wanted to connect with. Long ago Trouble and Sorcha had created the amulet Tabithia wore on a choker around her throat. With it, she could find them at any time. Trouble might be the one in the loop on this mission, but Sorcha was the better bet, simply because she would know more about what she dealt with—if she dealt with a trapped witch.

Now to simply concentrate with Aeros sitting mere inches from her. Easy-peasy, right? Ha.

Tabithia grounded herself, centring her mind and body to the stillness she needed to find Sorcha’s essence. Calmness slowly blanketed her until her breathing became steady and even. Drawing a circle in the air with her hands, she cast out of herself, entering the circle of jade-coloured light to find her kin. Instantly, she hit something solid, not hard, but almost like bouncing up against a memory-foam mattress.

Shocked, she stilled and narrowed her vision to see what prevented her from scrying. At first, she saw nothing. No haze of a spell, no shadow of a block, or outline of a trap blocked her. Slowly, as she waited, a slight mark of darker green bled out from behind her scrying circle.

She watched it closely, waiting for it to reveal itself. The line of the spell appeared almost identical to hers, varying only slightly from the ancient form she’d used. Her coven was privy to this particular spell, and her family, but no outsider had ever spun the scrying exactly the same.

Until now.

The repercussions of such knowledge sank in slowly. Unfortunately, too slowly. Suddenly, the line broke away and snapped around her like a bear trap.

The witch was damn good. The thought flew through her mind at the same time as she tried to save her ass by throwing her own trap spell. The incantation spun out and pinned the other witch to something—a wall, she thought.

Darkness filled Tabithia’s vision, so dark it appeared as if ink spilled over her eyes. She grinned. The dark, well, it was her best defence. Senses on alert, she struck out again. This time her spell trapped something. The witch, Tabithia realised. A small gasp gave the other woman away.

“So you wanted to talk, huh? Why not just ask nicely?”

A muffled irate sound met her words, then the blackness eased away and she found herself standing in the mist—not really mist but the in-between world many witches used to communicate.

Trapped against the far wall of mist, a witch glared at her. Green eyes much like Sorcha’s blazed with power mixed with anger. Her head was shaven, but the light golden stubble merely accented the beauty of her face. High cheekbones, pale skin with a touch of colour to her cheeks—the witch was as beautiful as either of her aunts.

“Show your true form, and I might let you go. If you promise to play nice,” Tabithia said.

Pink rosebud lips tightened to a snarl, revealing bright white teeth. Shaking her head, the witch struggled with the invisible bonds Tabithia had thrown.

“Fine, okay, whatever. You can be stubborn, but we need to talk. I need to know what the scoop is, and you need to spill it, ‘kay?  Cause, you know, those boys out there? They work for Ares. You know him, right? And he wants his little toy back… That would be you. If you don’t want to go back, well, we need to discuss why you were his little object of not-so-willing affection, got it? What you did, how you did it, and why I should help you.”

The other woman frowned harder the more Tabithia tried to ease her with the facts. Well, maybe she really didn’t do much easing, but they had to move fast. Still, she could slow down a bit. The woman looked spooked, like a pissed-off prisoner of war. Tabithia noticed that dirt marred her cheek. Some more smudges showed on her throat as if she’d not bathed in centuries. Could that be possible? Was this her true form?

“Listen, I was hired to do a job. I did it once. I’ll do it again. Unless you don’t want the boys to get their mission down, taking you to Ares, we need to talk.”

Nothing. Another silent glare and struggle.

“Okay, let’s start with what coven you belong to. No names, goddess forbid…unless you choose, but why not start with what century you’re from, ‘kay ?”

That at least got the witch to clear her throat. She appeared to think the questions over a bit. Her frown turned sceptical. Tabithia had a soft, comfy couch appear and sat down to relax with a sigh. Across from her, the other witch nibbled her lip.

Defeat. Tabithia smelt it. She tried really hard not to gloat.

“Jade. I’m of the Jade coven.”

The slight brogue was light but there, much like her aunts’. But the Jade coven? Not from this century.

“And? The year you were—”

“Imprisoned by that ogre?”

Okay, that worked. “Yeah, I guess so…if that ogre is Ares?”

“Can you let me go if I promise no’ to harm you?”

“Uh, who’s on the wall, chica? And by the way, you shouldn’t try to harm me any way. I’m a member of the Jade coven, too, and that would just be like, well, wrong, right?”

After blinking a few times, the other witch finally nodded. “You are of the Jade coven?”

Tabithia couldn’t see talking to her with the other witch in a binding spell so she took the gamble and released her.

As soon as she broke free, the woman rubbed her arms, almost as if she were cold. She was dressed in a pair of shabby, rough wool pants that were way too big and some sort of wool top, both so rough-cut and ugly it was hard to even tell the woman was a woman. Ares did this to her?

“What exactly are you wearing?”

“Slave clothes. Punishment, of course.”

Tabithia patted the couch and tried her best to imitate Sorcha’s so-sweet attitude. Geesh.

“Sit and tell me what’s up. I haven’t heard of you, so I’m guessing no one knows you’re…uh, what? A prisoner?”

Sitting gingerly, she curled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees.

“I was taken from my home when the Roman legion came through our tribe’s lands. Ares was fighting as a human captain. He was harmed or pretended to be, I’m not sure. I tried to help him. But—”

“Wait, wait… Roman legion?”

“Yes, near Hadrian’s Wall.”

Hadrian’s Wall? Scotland? Holy Hecate. Ancient history was not her strongest suit, but that was ages ago. Was she saying she was a Pict? That would make her…old. Ancient. Witches lived a long time, but not ten centuries, not that she knew of at least.

Tabithia rubbed her head. “Okay, so Ares pretends to be hurt, traps you and what? Makes you his godhead?”

“Nay, nay, I am no’ his godhead. The chalice merely traps me within. Ares took me because…Zeus wanted me.”

“Like, the king of gods? That Zeus?”

The other witch nibbled her finger and nodded.

“Okay…so, uh… What did our gods have to say about that? I mean, come on, the Greeks are big, but we’ve got some power too.” Right? Goddess, she hoped so, because what she was contemplating was going to rock the god boat real bad. Hopefully the god-to-god communication and respect thingy was in place.

“Bridget deserted me. I failed her in battle…”

Failed her? Tabithia cleared her throat. “Okay. So you lost a battle?”

“Nay, I feared fighting. I didnae go, I failed her. She deserted me. Left me. You saw how weak I am. I can barely even defend myself.” She practically wailed the last.

Weak? The witch had practically trapped her, the trapper. Clearly, the witch had some insecurity issues. Deciding to try to calm her down, Tabithia switched subjects.

“What is your given name? I can’t keep calling you witch, it’s like calling you girl or something…”

Chin up, the other immortal nodded, regally murmuring, “Daracha mac Fergusa.”

“Ah, ‘kay. So, Dara, let’s get this straight. Two of the Greek gods wanted you…”

The other woman—Dara, Tabithia reminded herself—bit her lip again, looking worried.

“Ares found me first. Zeus had come to find Ares. Zeus took the form of a hawk, but I knew he was no’ a hawk. I didn’t realise until he visited again that the hawk and god were the same. Then he brought with him another, Apollo. I thought Apollo one of the Three, because his form was a raven, but no, he tricked me and tried to take me to the skies. I fought back, but as a god—”

“Whoa, slow down. Hold it. Are you saying Zeus and Apollo wanted you? And Ares? And they all just stopped by, like for a visit?” Tabithia knew she was spluttering but come on. Three Greek gods? “But you’re a Celt, like me, right?”

“Aye.”

“Well then, why did Zeus stop by in the first place?” Not that it mattered, but hell, this was a boatload of information for one person to take in all jumbled together.

More lip-nibbling from the witch. She cleared her throat and said, “He first came to speak with Ares about some battle. When he saw me with Ares, he ordered Ares away. Ares left, and Apollo flew in from the skies and took me. Ares stormed his brother’s home and dragged Apollo off me. There was a fight.” Dara cringed and wrung her hands again. “It was dreadful. I thought they’d kill each other and leave me deep in the mountain.”

“Deep in the mountain?”

Dara nodded emphatically. “Yes, Apollo lives in a mountain. High in the mountains, and through a secret passage that looks like part of the rock.”

Ah, okay, this was getting weirder. “But on this plane? Or another?”

“On this plane.” Quickly she frowned and nibbled her lip. “Or maybe another. I don’t know. Ares won, and took me up to his home. I don’t think he exists on this plane.”

“No, it’s not exactly on this plane. Sort of to the side.” She and Trouble had bartered with another witch for Ares’ location. Then they’d had to spell some draining magic just to reach him. She’d done the voodoo while Trouble had done the spell to hide their breaking and entering. Now she just might be angering the god again. And his men.

Dara watched her nervously.

“Go on, then what? How’d mister warmonger get you up north?” Way north. Ares didn’t exactly live on another plane because he lived in the freaking clouds. As in, his palace sat on top of fluffy, white, beautiful clouds. She still couldn’t quite wrap her head around that and she’d seen it. Been there, done that.

“He won, of course. He entombed Apollo in the walls of his palace, and then grabbed me and I was suddenly in his fortress in the clouds. He imprisoned me in the chalice, after shaving me and dressing me as a slave. He removed my tattoos and bound my powers to the chalice so that I had nothing.” A sob escaped.

Tabithia had a hard time not simply breaking her ‘no touch’ rule and hugging the other woman.

“Hold on, hold on. So, Ares won out over Zeus and Apollo?”

“Zeus never knew, I think, that I was taken, and Apollo was beaten fairly by his brother.”

“But Zeus is like the king of the Greek Gods.”

Dara smiled sadly and shook her head. “He really wasn’t interested in me, I am sure. He merely showed an interest, and Ares flew into a rage.”

“Huh, and then Ares imprisoned you for like two thousand years?”

Green eyes round, Dara breathed, “Goddess.”

“Sorry, I guess I should have cushioned that, but really, we don’t have time to chit-chat. Here are the issues, as I see them. One, you need to get free. Two, I can’t let you without A, pissing Ares off, B, alienating the Spartans, and C, making myself a target for Ares and his groupies.” Not to mention Aeros, who even now she thought she could sense waiting for her.

Dara’s eyes rounded out as the list grew. “Oh.”

“And that doesn’t include the fact that, if we do this, we might be causing an intra-god war. I mean, come on, can you see it? The Celts against the Greeks? I’d buy popcorn, but I’m not placing any bets.”

“I… I… So, you willnae aid me?”

Tabithia rolled her eyes. “Geesh, did I say that? Of course I will. We just need to be sneaky about it. First of all, you’re still bound by whatever he’s got you down for, right?”

“Yes, I am still trapped in the chalice.”

“So I need to reach you, free you from the chalice, escape the Spartans, and then you can go your merry way, true?”

Dara looked shell-shocked. “You can free me?”

“Sure.” Sure, she could try. Dara didn’t need to know that, though. Confidence is what Dara needed. “With your help, I can. You make the traps believable so the boys won’t be suspicious, right? And I’ll reach you. The sooner the better, though… What?”

Dara shifted on the couch and frowned harder, looking apologetic before she even spoke. Something wasn’t going to go so smoothly, was it?

“I am quite far from you. I believe at least a day or two…”

Crap. Okay, well, that was okay.

“I am sorry. I spun a spell to remove the chalice from those nasty mages you gave me to.” She gave Tabithia an accusing look when she said that, then rushed on, “But I’m sure you can find me. It just might be a few days.”

Tabithia brushed her concern aside. “No problem. I’ll survive, right? So, the plan is set. We’ll see each other in two days tops, true? And when I come, you need to be in that chalice, got it? I’ll take it from there. Easy-peasy. Got it?”

Dara nodded quickly, but didn’t look enthusiastic.

“Just remember, stay in your chalice, ‘kay?”

“I will…”

At her hesitant look, Tabithia frowned. “But?”

“You didn’t give me your name.”

“Ah, well, it’s Tabithia, but most call me Tab.”

Scrunching her nose, Dara shook her head and grinned. “I shall call you Tabithia.”

Huh. Well, that made two people, if you counted Aeros. And speaking of him, she needed to get back.

“I gotta run, Dare.”

“Dare?” The witch looked caught between outrage and humour.

Tab grinned and hugged her quickly. “Yeah, Dare. I like it. I mean you’re willing to fight a god for your freedom. That takes daring, so yeah, Dare.”

“Dare.” Dare sounded the word out as if tasting it.

“Gotta run. I’ll catch you on the flip side.” Not waiting on a reply, ‘cause really, the girl had no clue, she quickly concentrated and left the mist and comfy couch behind.

She only hoped the guys wouldn’t be too upset when their jungle adventure ended up with nothing. Oh, she’d give them the cup, just not what was inside the cup. Aeros, she knew, would not be a pleased little general. And why she felt something close to fear, she couldn’t guess.