Shadow Magic (34 page)

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Authors: Cheyenne McCray

BOOK: Shadow Magic
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Hannah cleared her throat. “Thank you, Irka.”
The woman's eyes widened as if surprised that Hannah knew her name. She lowered her gaze and gave a deep bow. “It is my pleasure, my lady.”
Irka hurried from the table as Hannah watched.
She was
so
going to kill Garran.
Then it was as if an ice-cold wave slammed into her.
He was going to kill himself.
AFTER THE SENTENCING OF Vidar with the Directorate, Garran sat in his throne, more than likely for a final time. The last thing he had expected to feel was guilt and regret when he died. Not that he had given death much thought.
Yet anger seared his skull like a hot brand, too. Anger that he must leave this world in order to do his duty as king, when as a man, he was finally again fulfilled—by having his daughter in his life.
And Hannah
. Gods above, but he could not name this need to be with her always.
Love?
Garran rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
He had been in love only once before, with Rhiannon's mother. A gentle, special love that he would always treasure.
With Hannah this feeling was intense, fiery, filling him with strength by simply being with her. All along he had felt as if they had a soul connection, and now he knew it to be true, with everything he had.
All that he had come to know of her only solidified what he felt. What they had shared with each other about their prior lives. What he had witnessed of her spirit—her desire to fight for her people and her world, and the sacrifices she
was willing to make. The depths of her soul and the young girl inside her, still hurting and needing to be loved. Everything about her drew him, attracted him, made him want …
And love her.
Garran wiped his hand down his face and shifted on the throne.
By the gods
.
“You summoned us, my king?” Carden's voice interrupted his thoughts and Garran looked at his First and at Hark who had entered with Carden.
Carden's hands were behind his back, his stance wide, and his chin raised as he met Garran's gaze. Hark stood to the side with clear disapproval in his eyes.
Garran studied Carden. “I have much to teach you and little time.”
“This is unacceptable, Your Highness.” Hark moved closer, no longer serene but keeping his voice calm. “You cannot risk your life. You cannot leave your people with no king.”
It was more than a risk, it was a near certainty that he would die. Garran leaned forward in his chair. “Carden will be king when I pass on to Summerland. You will guide him and support him as your leader.”
“If I may, Your Highness.” Carden's jaw tightened. “As your First, and with great respect, I insist you stay and let your warriors battle for you.”
Garran gripped the armrests of his chair and nearly growled at his two highest leaders. “Must I constantly repeat myself? My word is law.”
Carden and Hark both appeared tense and angry, but said nothing.
“Your training, Carden.” Garran shifted and pressed a hidden catch on the thick armrest of his chair. The padded granite top of the armrest rose as silently as a Drow slipping beneath the night sky. Both Carden and Hark looked on with surprise on their features.
From inside the hidden compartment, Garran drew out a
small diamond orb. More regret tugged at his heart as he wrapped his hand around the warm, faceted diamond. He raised his arm and uncurled his fingers. The orb immediately rose an inch above his palm and slowly rotated. Emerald, ruby, and amethyst shades glittered within the diamond.
“What is it, my king?” Carden asked in a hoarse voice.
“This was given to me by my father before he passed on to Summerland.” Three millennia ago. “Other than myself, only my brother, Naal, knew of its existence.” The familiar pain of his brother's recent death sliced through Garran's belly like a dagger. In his arrogance, Garran had thought only Naal needed to know of the orb.
“The Orb of Aithne is cut from the same diamond as the brooch,” Garran continued, “but the orb is imbued with Drow powers that will answer many of your questions when asked of it.” A sense of loss made his stomach roil as he extended his hand to Carden. “Take it.”
After hesitating a moment, Carden took the orb. Fascination sparked in his gaze as he opened his hand and the orb rose to turn slowly above his palm.
Garran gave an inward sigh of relief. “My father was clear in that the orb would only serve a suitable replacement for the king. I had yet to test Vidar.” Perhaps because something had held him back. A subconscious feeling that he had not acknowledged.
“I have not needed its knowledge for centuries,” Garran said. “It is time for it to go to its new master. Keep it with you always and it will slowly impart its wisdom upon you until you have absorbed all that it has to share.”
Carden looked from the orb to Garran. “I—I cannot—”
“You will.”
Garran pushed himself out of his chair so that he was standing eye to eye with Carden. “No further conversation about the subject of my leaving is to be raised, with the exception of your training.”
Garran had the sudden desire to lash out at someone, to smash his fist into something. Godsdamn but he had been a
fool. He had barely had time to mourn Naal's death, but for the gods' sakes, it had been his responsibility to see to this.
“Sit.” He gestured to the strategy table, and after only a moment's pause, Hark and Carden obeyed, each seating themselves to either side of the chair at the head of the table. Carden slipped the orb into a pouch on his weapons belt.
Garran settled into his chair. He folded his arms on the table and began instructing Carden on what he must do if he should step up as King of the Dark Elves.
Seemingly accepting Garran's decision, finally, Hark interjected his wisdom at times and Garran was thankful as he wished to miss nothing. The orb would only do so much for Carden.
When Garran thought his head would burst from all that he had discussed with his two leaders, he pushed his chair away from the table and got to his feet. “We shall go to the troops now and speak with each commander.”
He faced Carden, who had also risen along with Hark. “I will be clear that you are my Steward while I am gone, and King should I pass on to Summerland.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Carden said, and Hark gave a deep nod.
“We will be going to war soon.” Garran's gut churned as he thought of Ceithlenn and the Fomorii. “I will take one of the younger warriors with me to give notice when it is time to go aboveground to fight.”
“So long as it is dark in that Otherworld,” Hark said.
Garran nodded in agreement. “The humans, D'Danann, and I have discussed drawing the goddess and the demons out at night. We will come up with a plan and be prepared.
“The Orb of Aithne will impart the following on you as well, Carden,” Garran continued. “The combined powers of all of our warriors will allow you to make the transference as one, without the use of the transference stone.”
Carden and Hark looked at him in surprise. “That has never been done,” Hark said.
Garran shrugged. “Such a great transference has never been needed before.”
A commotion could be heard outside the throne room—Hannah's voice, loud, anger in her tone. “Let me see him
now,
” she said in an authoritative manner as he cut his gaze to the doorway.
“The King's orders, my lady,” one of the guards said. They had blocked the entrance. “He is not to be disturbed.”
Garran couldn't see Hannah, but he could picture the imperious expression on her face. His heart twinged and regret flooded him again. She would have made a fine queen.
“I don't care what orders he gave you, I want to see Garran right this minute.”
“Allow Hannah to enter the room,” Garran called out to the guards before he nodded to Carden then Hark. “I will call for you when I am ready to visit the troops.”
Again surprised expressions. Obviously they had not expected him to change his plans at the demands of a female. In their world it was not done.
As the guards let Hannah pass, he faced her and almost smiled. Fire lit her eyes even though she kept her expression controlled. The Brooch of Aithne sparkled where he had pinned it to her shirt.
Had he made her his queen, she would no doubt have fought for changes in their world. The thought sent another twinge through his heart. Gods, how he would miss her when he passed on to Summerland.
When she reached him her lips were pressed in a thin line. She glanced at Carden and Hark and waited until they were out of sight, and the guards outside the door, before she spoke. She set the brooch on the armrest of his throne.
“You're not going to do this, Garran.” She poked one of her fingers at his chest, pressing into his skin. “No way are you going to throw your life away.”
He caught her hand in his and brought her close, catching her by surprise so that she stumbled into him. Her lips
parted as he brought her into his embrace and he kissed her before she had a chance to utter another word.
Instead of fighting him, she kissed him back with equal passion. Their kiss was deep, filled with desperation. Hannah took her hands from his and wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching her body up against him. His cock ached as she moved against him and she gripped his hair in her fists. The brooch on her shirt scraped his skin and added more magical warmth to their kiss.
Gods, she tasted of sweet, sweet woman and her scent was like the hint of wildflowers and spring rain. She made a needy whimpering sound that he had never heard from her before. He grasped her ass and pressed her tighter to him and he groaned.
Guards outside the entrance be damned—he had to have her here and now. He moved his hands between them and she gave a soft sound of surprise against his lips as he unfastened her jeans. But she didn't stop the magic of their kiss, it only intensified as he pushed down her jeans and undergarment. The soft thuds of her shoes met his ears as she kicked them off.
Her jeans and undergarment dropped to her feet and she stepped out of them. He broke their kiss so that he could pull her T-shirt over her head and, he set it carefully aside with the brooch. She unfastened the lace binding her breasts and let it fall to the floor, leaving her naked save for her socks.
“You are so beautiful,” he said as his gaze took in her naked body. His eyes met her dark ones and he pushed the blond lock from her face so that it joined her dark hair.
“Damn you, Garran,” she said before she kissed him.
He grasped her by her ass again and carried her up the dais and set her on her feet only long enough to unfasten his breeches and release his cock. He sat hard on his throne and brought her with him so that she straddled his lap.
Hannah raised herself on her knees, grasped his cock in her hand, and slammed herself down on him. She tore her
mouth from his and gave a hoarse cry as she began riding him, taking him deep.
Another groan rose up in his throat at the feel of her slick, heated core grasping his cock. He thrust his hips up every time she came down on him. She tipped her head back and he grasped her breasts in his hands. He began suckling first one nipple then the other and her moans grew loader and louder.
A powerful tightening sensation expanded in his groin, an oncoming storm of a climax approaching. He tilted his head up and she met his gaze and brought her mouth to his in another demanding kiss.
He took her by her waist and moved in and out faster as he thrust up harder. Her body began trembling in his hands and he knew she was close to orgasm.
Hannah broke their kiss again, a wild light in her eyes. She clung to his shoulders, digging her nails in his skin.
When she climaxed she gave a loud cry and shuddered against him. He pumped his cock inside her, feeling every spasm of her core.
She cried out again with another orgasm. With a few more powerful thrusts he made her whimper and moan before he allowed himself to climax.
The power of his orgasm had him rocking against her, pressing his hips tight in between her thighs. His mind whirled and he felt as if he was on the transference stone and entering another Otherworld as his cock throbbed inside her.
Hannah collapsed into his embrace, her face resting at the curve of his neck. Smells of sex, sweat, and woman flowed through his senses as he held her tight.
“Don't do it, Garran,” she whispered. “Don't do it.”
COUNTLESS MUFFLED SCREAMS CAUSED Jake to raise his head up from studying the weapons schematics on his laptop.
His heart immediately started thundering at the strength and number of the cries.
“Ceithlenn and the Fomorii,” Hawk shouted from the middle of the warehouse. He projected his voice and it echoed against the metal walls. “Through mind-speak the guards stated they see the goddess and the demons attacking the tourist piers.”
Jake snapped the laptop's lid shut and bolted from his room.
“Now, now, now!” Jake shouted to his officers as his body tensed, going into battle-mode. His wounded arm had been aching, and he'd been tired, but now he was wide awake.
His officers strapped on their armor and other battle gear, grabbed their rifles and handguns, along with shields and demo tasers. With expressions of grim determination they dashed out of the warehouse.
As if the heavens above were just as furious as Jake, freezing rain and wind whipped up and assaulted them. They rushed into several SWAT vehicles and the armored Humvee tanklike transports.
The witches joined them, climbing into one of the vehicles, each with expressions ranging from fury to determination. Rhiannon and Copper already sparked with magic.
Screams grew louder as the trucks roared the short distance from the warehouse to the piers under attack.
Jake figured the D'Danann had already arrived when he saw demon heads flying through the air. No doubt the warriors were flapping their great wings as they flew above the Fomorii and swooped down to behead one demon after another.
But there were too many Fomorii. Too goddamn many.
As more demons rose from the bay onto the piers, the Fomorii attacked humans, killing them then discarding the bodies. The demon stench of rotten fish, along with smells of blood and magic, slammed into him, the rain doing nothing to lessen the smells.
Jake and his officers bolted out of their vehicles, the witches rushing out with them into the rain. The wind blew so hard the rain slashed sideways and stung his face.
“Positions!” Jake ordered.
Immediately his men and women lined up and began moving forward with riot shields in front of them, working to get close enough to their targets to use the heart-seeking bullets.
“Fire the moment you have a clear shot,” Jake called out to his officers as blood pounded in his veins. “Take these bastards down.”
The witches started using spellfire and magic ropes to bind or incapacitate some of the demons long enough for the D'Danann to behead them or PSF officers to use their bullets and destroy the beasts.
Sounds of guns firing, people's screams, the sizzle of magic, pounding rain, and the roars and growls of the Fomorii erupted in the night.
If only it had started to rain earlier, not as many people would be out.
An explosion of red fire came from above, snapping Jake's attention to the sky. Ceithlenn. Hair flaming, eyes glowing red, gliding as she circled the carnage.
The goddess struck. A D'Danann reappeared as he
dropped from the air and the warrior shouted before falling into the middle of the swarming Fomorii. Iridescent sparkles rose above the demons—the beasts had killed the warrior.
Ceithlenn fired her magic in the air, probably going for the invisible D'Danann. From the way her fireballs shimmered and deflected, Jake was certain the invisible warriors were blocking the magic with their swords. Soon Ceithlenn encased herself in a shield that shimmered in the artificial light and her own fire.
White and gray puffs, like streams of fog, rose from the battlefield toward Ceithlenn and she sucked them through the shield and into her body.
Souls
. Jake recognized exactly what she was doing. He'd seen her do it before. The bitch was taking the murdered people's souls and making herself more powerful.
Jake raised his Glock and started to fire on the goddess but knew he'd only be wasting bullets. They'd just bounce off her magical shield. He'd have to let the D'Danann do their thing and he'd do his.
He jogged up a few steps and onto a stretch of wooden decking so that he was a little higher than the fighting. He ground his teeth and took a battle stance while holding his Glock steady with both hands.
Adrenaline kept his body so electrified that his wounded arm didn't affect his aim. He systematically began shooting demons on the outside fringes of the battle. In most cases his shot was dead-on, exploding the hearts of several demons. Their bodies collapsed into silt.
One Fomorii barreled toward Jake and he barely avoided the demon's claws by burying a bullet in the creature's heart and turning the demon into silt. More demons charged Jake's officers, who remained steadfast and fired AK-47 rifles or used handguns, depending on their positions. A few of Jake's officers were taken down by the demons.
Fury made his aim even truer. Heat swept his rain-soaked skin and a pounding knocked at the inside of his head.
Sirens screeched through the night, red and blue lights
flashing as emergency and law enforcement vehicles drew closer.
Not now
. Fuck. The emergency personnel and officers would only serve as more food for the demons and provide more souls for Ceithlenn.
Where were the Dark Elves? Jake glanced around. Where was Garran? Hadn't anyone notified the Drow?
It was dark—the bastards should be here. Were they traitors after all? Were they going back on their word to help in the battle against the goddess and the Fomorii?
Sonsofbitches. They'd better arrive real quick or this battle wasn't going to last long. And it looked like it wasn't the Fomorii or Ceithlenn who were going to be on the losing end—the Alliance were way outnumbered.
Jake moved his attention to a television news station van as it pulled up to a stop at the fringes.
Kat DeLuca climbed out of the van.
Oh, fuck
.

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