Shadow Magic (12 page)

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Authors: Cheyenne McCray

BOOK: Shadow Magic
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A slow burn crawled up Garran's spine and he barely restrained his anger. “It is not your decision to make. If I deem it so, that women may attend whatever I choose, then it shall be. You
will
offer only the utmost respect to both of the witches—Hannah and my daughter Rhiannon—when either are in your presence.”
Vidar paused longer than Garran thought appropriate, but the First in Command said, “Yes, my lord. It shall be so.”
Garran kept his eyes on the warrior. “See to it that Carden's training as your First is well attended to.”
If Vidar was annoyed in any fashion, he did not show it. “At once, my lord.”
With a nod, Garran gestured to the doorway. “You may leave to attend to your duties.”
Vidar bowed, then turned and walked out the doorway of the throne room, his spine and posture rigid, almost wooden.
Garran narrowed his eyes. Yes, he must return from the San Francisco Otherworld soon to monitor Vidar and his training.
DARKWOLF ALMOST DROPPED TO his knees, barely keeping to his feet in the small apartment. His mind swam and he struggled to focus on Elizabeth-Junga, the former queen of the Fomorii.
The weight of Balor's eye was becoming increasingly difficult to carry and the pain in his head more intense. The stone eye, hanging from a chain at his throat, grew heavier, as if the ancient god himself yanked it toward the ground.
Somewhere, the god slogged through the sewers. That much Darkwolf's scrying had told him.
Balor would never stop searching for Darkwolf and the eye. Not until the eye was destroyed, sent to Underworld, or the god found him.
Perhaps if his Clan still existed, Darkwolf could have gathered the warlocks, and together they might have used their black magic … but to do what?
It didn't matter, anyway. Ceithlenn had murdered most of his Clan and the rest had fled the city when she arrived.
Elizabeth pursed her lips and studied him. He preferred to think of her as the beautiful Elizabeth Black rather than the Fomorii demon that had taken over her body. As Elizabeth her scent was intoxicating—of woman and soft musky perfume.
Thank the gods she didn't smell like the Fomorii did when they were in their demon form. All Fomorii smelled only of their host when in a human shell.
“Can you do something—anything?” Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest. “You're a warlock. You brought me and my kind to this world, can you not send the eye back?”
A flash of anger at her question made his headache worse. Darkwolf ground his teeth and went to the window of the small apartment they had taken over, his back to her.
What Elizabeth—Junga—had done to rid the place of its former renters, he didn't want to know or think about. For now, it was theirs to use until Balor closed in on them again.
Darkwolf braced his hands on the wooden window frame, near the lock. He stared at the empty street and the cracked sidewalks spotted with black crap, no doubt most of it discarded chewing gum trod on by countless people over countless years.
Every day the anger burning within Darkwolf grew hotter and the pain in his head greater. One day he might lose control of that anger and use the power of the eye for himself.
Why not use it? Why suffer this torment day by day? He'd shrouded the eye as best he could with his own magic to keep Balor from finding him quickly. But what if Darkwolf discovered a way to use it against the god?
When Darkwolf found the eye on the shores of Ireland, he'd been a white witch known as Kevin Richards. Darkwolf had been so overcome with the power of the eye, with the greed that had gripped his soul, that he'd been oblivious to everything but bringing the Fomorii and Balor to this world.
But now that Ceithlenn had arrived, everything had changed. Something inside him had snapped when she used him, dominated him, forced him into sexual acts that left him feeling more unclean than even the horrid things he had done while under the powerful influence of Balor's eye.
Power that Darkwolf had used willingly.
He gripped the sill so tightly his fingernails dug into the aging wood and his jaws ached from clenching them.
Darkwolf released the sill to turn and face Elizabeth, meeting her blue eyes. “If I could rid myself of the eye, I would,” he said through gritted teeth. “You know that.”
She pushed one of her hands through her thick, glossy black hair. “There must be some way that you can dispense with the gods-be-damned thing.”
His mind returned again to his darkest thoughts. “Or just maybe I can use it for myself. Screw Balor and hiding it from him.”
Elizabeth dropped her hand to her side, her eyes widening. “Do you think that's possible?”
“Hell if I know.” The pain in his head grew greater. He had to relieve it before he went mad. “But I do know what I want now.”
The only thing that lessened his pain daily was unleashing his power on Elizabeth, sexually dominating her, fulfilling them both. She always took him willingly, her desire as insatiable as his.
Lust darkened her eyes and her nipples beaded beneath the T-shirt she was dressed in now. Instead of the tailored, fitted suits she'd worn before, as Elizabeth Black, she had finally settled for more practical clothing—jeans, T-shirts, and running shoes.
He'd preferred it when he could shove up her skirt and sink his cock into her tight core whenever he wanted to. But he could still fuck her hard and fast no matter how she was dressed.
And right now he needed just that.
Elizabeth wet her lips with her tongue as he strode from the window, across the cramped living room. As soon as he reached her, he grabbed her shining black hair in one fist, yanked her to him, and grasped her ass with his free hand. He ground his cock against her belly as he claimed her mouth. At the same time a growl rose in his throat.
Whenever he took her a feral, primal need overcame him that made every other thing around them vanish. The eye no longer weighed him down, and he no longer felt Balor's presence. If he could be inside Elizabeth constantly to keep it all at bay, he would.
He jerked her T-shirt from where it was tucked into her
jeans and shoved it over her breasts. He palmed them, her hard nipples pressing against his hands. Following his orders, she never wore underwear, so there was no bra to get in his way.
The anger that had been simmering in him made him growl again and he bit her lower lip hard enough to make her cry out. The taste of blood heightened his lust and he bit her again.
Elizabeth's hands went to work, stroking his cock through his jeans and then unfastening the top button. The zipper slid apart as she forced it down and freed his erection.
Darkwolf released his hold on her lower lip, licking the blood away before jerking her long hair hard, forcing her to her knees. She whimpered, but he knew she loved it when he mastered her.
“I want you to go down on me before I let you have my cock in your pussy.” He pushed his erection against her lips.
Without hesitation she parted her lips and slipped him inside until he reached the back of her throat. With his hands clenched in her hair, he started thrusting in and out of her mouth.
She worked his erection with one hand while fondling his balls with her other. At the same time she sucked his cock like no one else ever had. She made soft whimpering and moaning sounds as she bobbed her head and looked up at him with her startling blue eyes.
He watched his moist erection slide in and out of her mouth and that turned him on even more. Her shirt was still up, over her bouncing breasts, her nipples large and taut, making him want to suck and bite them.
The heat in his balls intensified and his sac drew up. Elizabeth applied deep suction and he lost it. Semen spurted down her throat and his mind spun with the power of his orgasm. The pulsing of his cock inside her mouth sent spasm after spasm through him.
She continued sucking as he pressed his groin to her face, and she wrung every last drop from him.
Darkwolf resisted the urge to fall to his knees. He let go of her hair only long enough to grab her shoulders and jerk her to her feet.
“What do you want, Elizabeth?” he said as his cock rubbed against her jeans and began to grow erect again. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”
“Fuck me and spank me so hard it hurts.” Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated, and her breasts rose and fell at a rapid pace.
Another growl rose up in Darkwolf. He knew what she wanted, but he liked to hear it from her. He jerked her T-shirt over her head, unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped them, before pushing the jeans to her thighs.
“On your hands and knees.” It made his cock harder to give her orders that she immediately obeyed.
Elizabeth dropped to her knees as he shoved her down by her shoulders and then she planted her palms on the worn carpeting. She spread her thighs as far as the jeans would allow and he knelt behind her. Should he take her in the ass or her pussy? She liked it both ways and the pain of his entry in her tight ass was something she craved.
But today he wanted the slickness and warmth of her pussy. He positioned his erection at the opening of her core, grabbed her hips, and slammed into her.
Elizabeth cried out from the power of his thrust then shouted again when he slapped one of her ass cheeks with his palm.
Damn, her snug channel gripped his cock so tightly it took effort not to come too fast. He spanked her other ass cheek, enjoying the sting against his palm as she whimpered from the pain of his slap. Again and again he spanked her. Her cries and whimpers and the sight of his handprints on her ass made the need to come more intense.
The stone eye swung against his chest as he rocked back and forth. It was cushioned by the magic he shrouded it with, but still he was aware of it.
He drove into her over and over and spanked her harder
and harder. She screamed when she climaxed, her skin flushing pink from her orgasm. Her whole body shuddered and her pussy clamped down on his cock with every tremor that racked her frame. He forced himself to hold back his orgasm, wanting her to enjoy her own as he drew out her climax until she couldn't stand it anymore.
When she finally sobbed and begged him to stop, he thrust several times more then shouted and dug his fingers into her firm ass cheeks. His cock throbbed inside her pussy, which continued to squeeze down on him with her ongoing contractions.
For that moment in time all he did was let the pleasure wash over him. He closed his eyes hoping that it would last. That he could put off the inevitable just a little longer.
When the orgasm started to fade away, the pain in his head and the weight of the eye slammed into him. He collapsed on Elizabeth's back, forcing her down to her belly.
The pain was so great that all he could do was lie there until he had the strength to take control again.
THE FOLLOWING DAY BEFORE it grew too close to dawn, Garran escorted Hannah to his throne room. He had found the spark of anger in her eyes amusing as she practically slammed the door to her chamber in his face before taking her shower. Again he had waited until she had refreshed herself and came out of the room, her pack over her shoulder.
When they reached the smooth, obsidian granite door in his throne room, he raised his hand. His palm warmed as his magic flowed from his hand in a glittering dark cloud and opened the heavy door. No one but one of the Drow could open this doorway to those from Otherworlds.
He took Hannah into the small room that contained a circular transference stone, similar to the one the Great Guardian allowed the Fae and other beings to use as long as they had Elvin escorts.
“You need some light in here. And a heater,” Hannah grumbled as she rubbed her bare arms. He could see her skin had pebbled like gooseflesh from the chill in the chamber.
Using his magic again, he closed the granite door. Total darkness shrouded them, but his Drow sight allowed him to see clearly and he took her hand in his.
“Light, Garran. You might be able to see, but I can't.” She tried to jerk her hand away from his, obviously still irritated with him from leaving her filled with desire last night. But he gripped her fingers and refused to release her.
“Close your eyes.” He watched her in the darkness as she looked up at him. “Now. Then hold on to me as I take us to your Otherworld.”
She scowled at him but closed her eyes. The sound of the catch in her breath was lost as he guided them through the void to the Drow door to San Francisco. All it required of him was a thought of where they should be, and in moments they arrived.
Hannah grabbed onto his arm when their feet hit the rocky beach in the darkness beneath a pier. He looked down to see her blink and her lips part as she stared out at the bay.
She flashed what he was certain was a rare smile. “I'm home.” Her smile faded as she stared out into the distance to the lights of Alcatraz Island. “As much of a home as it can be right now.”
Garran tugged her hand and drew her from beneath the pier, past the giant round pilings, and into the foggy night. He sucked in the scent of brine mixed with the city's pollution that assaulted his sensitive sense of smell. He didn't smell the strong rotten-fish odor of the Fomorii, so the beasts were not close. At this moment.
But he did catch faint feminine perfume on the air, the scent of Fae, and the lingering smell of man.
Rocks and pebbles crunched beneath Hannah's shoes, her breathing elevated, and he sensed her pleasure at returning to her city.
“You're late,” came his daughter's voice, and he smiled. Rhiannon might have her mother's looks, but she had
his
occasional temper and impatience.
Hannah yanked her hand from his as soon as they heard Rhiannon's voice, and even in the near darkness he could see a slight flush creep up her neck.
Amused at her obvious embarrassment at being caught holding his hand, he followed Hannah up the only slope that led from the beach to the wooden pier and to the asphalt. A single light pole stood off to the side. Rhiannon and Keir waited just outside of the glow. Rhiannon was no
longer in her D'Danann leathers, but in human clothing, as was Keir.
“It's getting close to sunrise.” Rhiannon looked to the east. “We've got to get you to the warehouse.”
“Do not fear.” Garran stared in the direction the sun would grace the sky. Anticipation skittered along his skin at the graying atmosphere and the faint pink glow just over the horizon.
“What do you mean, ‘Do not fear?'” Hannah's voice rose and he detected concern. Concern that made him smile again. She might not wish it, but already she had begun to care for him.
“No kidding. Hurry.” Even Rhiannon had urgency to her voice that warmed his chest.
The Great Guardian had only commanded him to not share with anyone that he had the power to send the demons back to Underworld. She had not told him to hide the fact that he could now walk in the sun. Which would be obvious once he began working with the D'Anu, D'Danann, and their human law enforcement officers.
As he stood on the pier and stared into the east, his skin did not tingle. In Otherworld, that would be a signal it was time to go belowground. If one of the Dark Elves ignored the sign, as soon as the sun rose all that remained of him would be ash.
“Now that you're here to help, you are
so
not going to fry,” Rhiannon said as she came up beside him.
He looked down and admired the spark in his daughter's eyes and in her spirit.
“The Great Guardian has granted me a gift.” His words echoed on the pier as he looked from Rhiannon to Hannah. “As long as I am here, assisting you and your people, I am able to walk in the sun.”
Hannah's eyes widened and Rhiannon's jaw dropped. “Really?” she asked.
He answered by looking to the east again.
It seemed an eternity passed, but it truly was not long before rays of morning light peeked through the fog.
As if only for him, the mist melted away and the sunrise burst clearly over the horizon. Oranges, yellows. So beautiful.
His eyes did not burn or water. His skin did not heat. Rather, other feelings altogether suffused his body. The rush of magic flowed through him as the sun fully appeared.
Behind him, Hannah and Rhiannon both voiced their surprise with a “What in the goddess's name?” from Rhiannon and a “I don't believe it” from Hannah. He knew he now looked as he had before being banished with his people. His skin and hair were returning to their former tones.
But for the moment only the rising sun captured his attention. Its warmth touched his face and he closed his eyes to absorb the feeling, to remember it always.
When he opened his eyes again, the sun was brighter. He held his palms up and looked at his skin. Pale as he remembered. His hair was long enough he could see the white-blond shade of it resting against his shoulder plates. He dropped his hands to his sides and turned to face his daughter, Hannah, and Keir. They all appeared to be too stunned to speak.
“I think it is time you showed me your headquarters.”
ANTICIPATION TIGHTENED HANNAH'S BELLY as Rhiannon and Keir escorted her and Garran to a warehouse positioned along the wharf. From the outside the tin siding was rusted and neglected, and the building had a abandoned look to it.
This was apparently their new “home” thanks to the battle with Ceithlenn.
That had taken place in the middle of a baseball stadium.
On national TV.
A battle that had left thousands dead and fingers pointed at the witches—the very reason the witches had been forced to flee to Otherworld.
But now they were back and ready to fight again.
Keir opened a side door and she stepped inside, along with Rhiannon and the suddenly very different-looking Garran.
No … he truly wasn't so different than before—his body was still sculpted perfection, his features proud and kingly, and his stride was that of a warrior. But his hair was white-blond instead of silvery-gray, and his skin was almost as fair as the Great Guardian's. His eyes were the same liquid silver that enraptured her when she looked at him.
She wanted him, and she still couldn't believe he had left her last night.
Uncontrollable thoughts of being in bed with Garran made her mind swim. They were no longer in the Drow realm, so her lust for him definitely had nothing to do with the legendary magic of the Dark Elves. She wasn't sure what to make of those feelings except that she wanted to have wild, incredible sex with him.
When they entered the warehouse, Hannah's lips parted in amazement. She paused just inside the doorway of the warehouse before they were noticed, taking in everything. Organized chaos dominated the large place, which was divided in half by newly erected walls to her left. The windows were a little cloudy, but allowed sunshine to stream through. They were high enough that those inside couldn't be seen from the outside—unless they could fly like the D'Danann.
The walls, concrete floor, and surrounding equipment looked as if they had been cleaned efficiently. A combination of smells, including new wood and sawdust, patchouli incense, and lemon oil hung in the air.
D'Danann, D'Anu, and the Paranormal Special Forces were in various groups, obviously engaged in strategy sessions.
“Garran?” Copper's voice came from the side and Hannah turned to look at her sister D'Anu witch. She was staring at Garran in openmouthed astonishment. “It's you—but the sunlight—your skin—your hair …”
Hannah glanced up at Garran who winked at Copper. “I have come to do your bidding. How would you have me assist you?”
Copper blinked, snapped her jaws shut, and approached, limping a little in her ankle cast. Then with a grin, she said, “How cool. You can walk in the daylight.”
Behind Copper stood her husband, Tiernan. The blond warrior stepped forward and took the Drow King's arm in the hand-to-elbow grip. “We are pleased you have chosen to join us.”
“As am I,” Garran said with a genuine smile as he and Tiernan released each other.
Then came a round of greetings and handshakes among the D'Danann and D'Anu who had not been in Otherworld last night. They were also welcomed by Jake Macgregor, captain of the San Francisco Paranormal Special Forces.
“We've started calling ourselves the Alliance,” Copper said after the introductions were made. “Short for Unified Otherworlds Alliance.” She grinned. “We couldn't keep calling ourselves the D'Anu, D'Danann, and PSF team—too much of a mouthful. And now with the Drow helping out, referring to our team as the Alliance will make things a lot simpler.”
“Great idea,” Hannah said, and Garran nodded.
Even though his expression remained kingly, Hannah sensed that he was pleased his people were counted as members of the Alliance.
Hannah glanced around the warehouse, taking in more details. Numerous humans dressed in PSF gear were working on various things like weaponry and training.
The PSF had a lot of disadvantages since they were human and had no magical abilities that enabled them to battle powerful magical beings. But the PSF officers had developed weapons that gave them a fighting chance, and Hannah knew they were working on finding other ways to help win the war.
Hannah was drawn in with Rhiannon, Keir, and Garran.
The D'Danann were dressed in jeans and T-shirts rather than their warrior leathers so that they could more easily go out among humans. But Hannah could tell them from the PSF by subtle things, like the way they walked, the power in their presences. The long and shoulder-length hair helped, but there was something
more
about them.
The only human here who rivaled the D'Danann in physical appearance and presence was Jake Macgregor. Other good-looking officers were in the room, many as powerfully built as Jake, but there was something special about him, too. Not to mention his sexy dark looks, his blue eyes, and the fact that he was built like a linebacker.
As always, Hannah stiffened when her sister D'Anu witches came over to hug her. Damn her childhood. Damn her mother, her family and friends, for never hugging. Why did she have to feel so abnormal? Just the thought of being close to these people made her feel crushed and breathless and trapped.
But Garran …
She closed her eyes.
She'd figure out Garran later.
Banshee's welcoming cry echoed in the warehouse. Hannah smiled and extended her arm as she tilted her head back to see her familiar circling above her. He glided to an easy landing on her arm and she stroked the feathers at the back of his neck.
“I missed you,” she said even though she'd seen him just yesterday.
“I'll show you around, and then we need to scry,” Silver said, interrupting Hannah's focus on Banshee.
Hannah nodded and the falcon pushed away from her arm and took flight. She watched him as he flapped his beautiful wings and sailed up to rest on one of the rafters.
The witches left Garran and the D'Danann behind, including Silver's husband, a warrior named Hawk.
Silver's gaze was warm as she smiled at Hannah. Silver was so beautiful with her gray, almond-shaped eyes and her
long silvery-blond hair that spilled softly past her shoulders. She was pregnant but her belly had only grown into a small pooch.
Silver and Copper, who were blood sisters, escorted Hannah around the huge warehouse. PSF officers used one section to design their special equipment while another area was used for planning and strategy sessions. To Hannah's surprise, a darkened room had been built with special jail cells. It smelled odd, of metal and something undefinable.

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