Shadow Magic (14 page)

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Authors: Cheyenne McCray

BOOK: Shadow Magic
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Her heart seized at the memory of the last time she scried, in Otherworld. And the Fire Dragon …
The vision had to have been wrong. She swallowed and called to the Dragons.
Warmth and certainty spread through her when she knew the Dragons were with her in spirit.
But were all four there? By the goddess Anu, she couldn't tell.
What was important now was what her scrying would tell her at this moment.
Hannah opened her eyes before tilting the vial and letting the salt crystals tumble onto the mirror.
As always, time slowed, sounds and the world around her vanished until she was shrouded in darkness. All that remained was her and the patterns the salt made in the air as they fell and then the patterns created when they tinkled against the black glass.
In the mirror she stood on something—a platform?—that rose high enough she could see the glittering city stretching out below her.
Hannah's heart rate kicked up so fast her chest hurt. She couldn't move, couldn't use her magic, couldn't even speak—or scream. Which she wanted to do when her gaze landed on a dark shape in front of her.
Ceithlenn, the goddess from Underworld. The evil soul—stealing, murdering bitch. Anger rose up in Hannah swift and strong, so strong her body vibrated with it. But she couldn't move. She was frozen in place.
The dark goddess smiled, her red eyes boring into Hannah's. Ceithlenn took a step toward her.
Hannah's whole body burned as if she were on fire and she writhed from pain searing her entire being. It wouldn't stop. She couldn't escape.
Everything went black.
Hannah gasped as she was jerked out of the vision. It felt like she had pulled her face out of a vat of water. She mentally
found herself back in the kitchen, surrounded by her sister witches.
She'd never felt so out of control, never felt like falling completely apart after having a vision.
It was as if the black glass of her scrying mirror had shattered, and she along with it.
WHILE THE WITCHES DISAPPEARED into the kitchen for one of their scrying sessions, Jake got his first good look at the king of the Dark Elves.
Garran stood in the center of the planning area of the warehouse with his arms folded across his massive chest and over his jewel-studded leather chest straps. Some of the D'Danann warriors, as well as Jake and a few PSF officers had gathered around the Drow king.
The man had the bearing of someone who knew what he wanted and without question expected to get it. Likely an obnoxious sonofabitch.
With his cop's instincts, Jake automatically catalogued Garran's appearance. At the same time he tried to keep his face expressionless as he analyzed the king.
Garran was as tall as Jake and most of the D'Danann, putting him at about six-six. The king had fair unblemished skin with no lines at the corners of his silvery eyes. His pointed ears were exposed through his long blond hair, his hair hanging to the metal plates that rested on his broad shoulders.
Along with the leather straps crisscrossing his chest, Garran wore black leather pants and boots that were similar to what the D'Danann usually wore. A sword with a jewel-encrusted hilt was strapped to one side of his hips and a long dagger sheathed to his other side.
Garran had the solid build of an athlete, not as overbuilt
as a guy who spent his time at the gym bench-pressing. The king definitely looked like someone who'd be a challenge to take down in a fair fight.
From what Jake had been told about the Drow, they were anything but fair. They used dark magic and a guy could never be certain about which side the Dark Elves were fighting on—good or evil.
And something in Garran's shrewd, intelligent, and assessing gaze told Jake that the king was hiding something. Keeping some kind of truth from all of them.
After Tiernan and Keir greeted Garran with a strange hand-to-elbow grip, the rest of the D'Danann returned to their duties and Jake indicated to his officers to do the same.
When just Hawk, Garran, and Jake remained, they headed to the huge backlit computerized map table currently showing the San Francisco Bay shoreline and Alcatraz Island. Immediately Hawk pored over the map, but Garran and Jake continued to size each other up.
“You speak for humans?” Garran said as he rested his hand on his sword hilt. He had an unusual accent. Different from the Irish brogue of the D'Danann.
Automatically, Jake had the urge to put his hand at his gun holster, but forced himself to relax. “You could say I represent at least a portion of the human population, yeah. I'm basically a police commander.”
“Commander.” Garran studied Jake with his strange silver eyes. “Your followers do as you will them to, then. You are a great leader amongst your people.”
“I'm the Paranormal Special Forces captain.” Wondering where this conversation was headed, Jake leaned his hip against the map table. “I'm in charge of one branch of law enforcement.”
The king's gaze never wavered. “Yet you are the sole representative of humans in this battle?”
Jake kept his gaze focused and unwavering on Garran even as he frowned to himself. “I guess you could say that.”
Garran gave a slow nod and extended his hand. Jake
pushed away from the table and reached to shake the king's hand, but he grasped Jake's arm in that same odd way the D'Danann and Garran had greeted each other.
Garran had a firm grip and he gave a low nod before raising his head and looking at Jake again. “It is my pleasure to meet the leader of the humans.”
Jake opened his mouth to correct the king, then shut it. Let the guy think whatever the hell he wanted to. Maybe it was better this way.
He turned to look at the map table at the same time Garran did.
For the first time it occurred to Jake that as far as all the Otherworlders were concerned, he was the “representative” from the non-magical human race. When he thought about it, all along they'd been treating him with the deference they might treat the king of another race of beings.
Weight settled on Jake's shoulders and he frowned. He wasn't sure exactly how he felt about that realization.
GARRAN PUZZLED OVER THE best move to utilize the Great Guardian's gift as he looked from Jake Macgregor of the human law enforcement to Hawk of the D'Danann.
“It would be most advantageous,” Hawk said with a scowl, “to attack the Fomorii and Ceithlenn while they hide below this island.”
“Yeah, getting rid of them in one fell swoop would solve our problems—if it's possible.” Jake glanced again at the what the human had called a “computerized” map they had been studying. He cut his gaze from Hawk to Garran. “Unless the Drow are good long-distance swimmers, and the D'Danann can fight in the water once they fly to the island, a battle with the demons over there is nearly impossible.”
Jake clenched his fist on the map table as he continued, “Alcatraz was chosen to house a prison because it is virtually impossible to penetrate. No escape. No entrance.” He gestured to the area where the island was situated. “We have no way of getting a large enough number of us there to attack them in that underground cavern Ceithlenn created.”
Hawk nodded. “If what the witches scried in the past is true, then the host of demons is most definitely at this location.”
“We've seen the witches in action over the past months.” Jake rose and folded his arms across his chest. “I'm betting on them.”
“Aye.” Hawk glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the room the witches were scrying in this very moment, then looked back at Jake and Garran.
Thoughts churned through Garran's mind. If he could reach that island and use the power the Great Guardian had given him, he could end the war. As simple as that.
Jake's frustrated huff brought Garran's attention back to him. The human continued, “The only way I can think of is to get the U.S. Air Force to bomb the whole damned island. A couple of missiles and the island and everything below it would be decimated.”
Garran opened his mouth to tell them of the Great Guardian's words of warning, that not all the Fomorii could be killed without destroying the balance in Otherworld.
He clamped his mouth shut. Absolutely no way existed to rid themselves of the Fomorii without Garran sending them back with the power the Guardian had given him. If he spoke of her warning, it would perhaps leave those fighting Ceithlenn with a feeling of hopelessness—how could they send the Fomorii back to Underworld themselves?
Damn the Underworlds
at the Guardian's insistence he tell no one about his power. Now he was forced to accomplish his task before a way was found to completely destroy the demons.
“Of course to blow up one of the most famous national monuments in the freaking world,” Jake said, “I'd have to go through a hundred channels to convince everyone up to the President that there really are
demons
beneath Alcatraz.” Jake continued with a look of pure frustration on his face. “I can't even get them to believe that what they saw on television during the baseball game was real.
“Not that I can blame them for refusing to believe that some flame-haired goddess-bitch sucked the souls of every living being in those stands while the Alliance fought off the Fomorii on the field.” Jake clenched his fists on the map table. “No matter how many times they analyze the televised events, they just don't
get
it. The official consensus is
that every station televising the game had some kind of high-tech interference that was fed a hoax, a cover-up, for what really happened. Damn near everyone believes it was bioterrorism.”
“Fools.” Hawk braced his hands on the table. “If your military will not do as we need them to, then we must find a way to draw the demons out.” He looked at Garran. “At night when the Drow can battle with us.”
Garran gave a slow nod. “We will fight by your side until we draw our final breaths.”
“Let's hope it doesn't come to that.” Jake glanced around the warehouse at those toiling in one manner or another, and Garran followed his gaze.
“Tonight we've all got to get some sleep.” Jake scrubbed his hand over his stubbled jaw. The man's eyes were red and he looked exhausted. “Tomorrow we'll figure out some way to draw the demons out.”
“Aye.” Hawk blew out an audible breath. “All members of the Alliance have had little rest since Ceithlenn's last attack.”
Garran only nodded once again. Now that he knew where the Fomorii were hiding, he could deal with them himself.
IT WAS LATE WHEN Garran set out on his mission. Without a sound, he slipped through the warehouse.
When he was halfway from the room he'd been given and the warehouse door, Garran caught Hannah's sweet womanly scent behind him before she spoke. “Where are you going?”
He stopped without looking at her. He had hoped to avoid this situation.
“I said, where are you going?” Her voice grew sharper and held a hint of irritation.
He looked over his shoulder. Gods, she was beautiful with her brown eyes, the lock of blond hair outlining one side of her face against her dark brown hair. He wanted her
over and over again, and hoped he would survive his mission to come back and take her to bed to do just that.
“I wish to explore the area.” He looked toward the door again. “I will need to be familiar with it before I bring the Drow to fight.”
He felt Hannah's presence grow nearer. “I'll go with you,” she said, close enough that he imagined her warm breath on his neck. “The D'Danann warriors guarding the door inside and out wouldn't let you past them without me.”
Garran faced her. “I will shroud myself with Drow magic. It will not be necessary for you to join me.”
She frowned. “I'm still coming with you.”
“No.” He put force behind the word as he met her eyes. “I go alone.”
“Why?” She braced her hands on her hips and arched a brow.
Garran rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The words of the Great Guardian came to him, about keeping Hannah at his side. But he had no intention of taking her with him this night no matter what the Guardian said.
“I wish to be alone.” He dropped his hand away from his eyes and firmed his expression as he said the words in a tone meant to eliminate further conversation.
“I
am
coming with you.” With her chin tilted up, both fire and ice in her gaze, she sounded and looked like a ruler, imperious and regal, a queen.
She would make a fine queen, indeed.
He shook the thoughts from his head at the same time he made the motion to tell her no. But by the look in her eyes and on her expression, he knew it was a battle lost.
He sighed. “Come, then, quietly. I will shroud us both in my magic.”
The cloud he enveloped them with was hazy as they walked to the door guarded by a pair of D'Danann warriors. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hannah's surprised expression when he faced each warrior and moved his hand in a circular motion, his palm facing each man. As intended,
they were oblivious to his and Hannah's presence and didn't even move when Garran opened the door.
At the same time Garran turned the cool knob, he let a swell of his dark magic touch each of the warriors standing guard on the outside of the door.
Hannah looked at him in amazement as they exited the warehouse and the warriors did not so much as look at them. The door made no sound as it closed.
A nearby light from a lamppost cast shadows on Hannah's face as he looked down at her as they walked away from the warehouse.
“Pretty neat trick,” she said, although she didn't look pleased. “The Dark Elves could attack us so easily just by doing what you just did.”
Garran shook his head. “Only the king holds such power. It is passed on from king to king as a protective measure, given from the Orb of Aithne.”
She cocked her head as they made their way silently to the pier. “The Orb of what?”
“Aithne.” He gestured in the direction they had come from this morning. “We must go.”
Her frown was darker now, and she came to a stop directly beneath the lamppost. They were still shrouded by his magic.
“We're not just out for a stroll, are we,” she stated.
“I will explain.” He touched her elbow and guided her in the direction of the pier. “Come.”
Hannah seemed to accept that. For now.
She looked him over as they walked. “You looked good before in your Drow garb, but you're pretty hot in human clothing, too.”
Garran cocked one eyebrow as he glanced down at her. Before most had settled in for the night, the witches had hunted for human clothing for Garran so that he “wouldn't stick out” in the human world. He wore what they called a T-shirt and jeans, but his feet were still clad in his supple leather boots. It felt odd not wearing his shoulder plates or
leather chest straps, and the T-shirt felt confining hiding so much of his skin. Yet, at the same time the clothing was comfortable. He had left his sword behind but had a lengthy dagger strapped to his side.
“You cannot get enough of me.” He let his tone drop low and seductive, with a hint of amusement. “I believe that is why you desire to join me this night.”
“You wish, blue boy.” Hannah appeared unaffected when he glanced at her. “I'm just keeping an eye on you.”
He smiled as he looked down at the beautiful woman beside him. Despite the fact he'd had no intentions of bringing her with him, it felt pleasant to have her at his side. “Then you do not trust me.”
“Not for a moment.”
At that he laughed, the sound echoing through the night, joining the subdued sounds of the city behind them, a city that was still under martial law.
Fog absorbed most of the moon's light and he reached for her hand to make sure she didn't trip in the near darkness.
At first she stiffened but gradually relaxed as they walked. He gripped her cool hand tighter in his then sent magic from his hand to suffuse her body with warmth.
She glanced up at him. “So where are we
really
going?”
Garran did not answer and she did not press him as they walked hand in hand from the warehouse toward the pier. Smells of the city's pollution mixed with the scent of brine on the air. Otherworld was so clean in contrast that the smells of this human city nearly clogged his senses.
Hannah's sigh joined the gentle slap of waves against the pier as they neared it. He led her onto the pier and her shoes made soft sounds on the wood. As he was Elvin, his movements were always silent, much like the Fae.
When they reached the end of the pier facing Alcatraz Island, he turned to her. He took both of her hands in his, raised them, and pressed his lips to her knuckles.
Hannah closed her eyes and made a soft little groan. “If you're trying to seduce me, it's working.”
Garran raised his head and laughed, and she opened her eyes. He released her hands and drew her into his embrace. Again she stiffened but gradually relaxed as he held her tightly, making it clear he was not going to release her for that moment in time. He rubbed his hands over her back and she wrapped her arms around his waist, settling her face against his chest.
He buried his nose in her hair, the clean, womanly scent chasing away some of the smells of brine and fish.
The thought of fish gave him pause—the Fomorii smelled of rotten fish, but a strong stench. If he left Hannah, what if she was attacked by one or more of the demons that might be in the city?
At the realization his chest ached and he felt as if a knot had formed in his throat. He could not leave her … but he should not take her …
Or could he, and still keep her safe? Was that what the Great Guardian had intended when she told him to keep Hannah close?
Garran cleared his throat, stepped away from Hannah, and clasped her upper arms with his hands. She felt small and fragile in his larger grip, not the strong woman he knew her to be.
“I have a mission to complete,” he said, his voice low in the night. “I would rather return you to the headquarters, where I know you will be safe, than to take you with me.”
Hannah shook her head, a stubborn glint in her eyes. “I don't know what in the Ancestors' names you're talking about, but you're not leaving me behind.”
Garran closed his eyes for a moment, searching inside himself for the magic the Great Guardian had given him. It survived deep in his chest, a ball of liquid power that gave him inexplicable energy and strength he had never felt before.
To get to the island, though, he would have to use his own dark magic. The Drow never used black magic, but their powers edged close to that ever-deep precipice.
He opened his eyes to see Hannah's brows narrowed and a firm but questioning look on her features.

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