Taken by Moonlight (61 page)

Conall
quickly cut through the trackers in his way. As a young wolf, he’d been more
focused on showing off his skill.That was not the case today. He was going
after Cronin, and Luna help anyone or anything that got in his way.

He could
not explain why he was here, or how he’d known to come here, but every cell in
Max’s body had led him to this place. He’d simply blocked his thoughts,
concentrated on locating his father, and followed what seemed to be a strong
but invisible connection, based on flashes of power. It was an essence of
sorts, a witch’s essence.

After
leaving the vampire’s place, Max had been consumed with anger enough to want
his own father dead. Kyros had tried to be the voice of reason. While Kyros had
his own reasons for wanting the man dead, the older warlock had given Max all
the reasons as to why it would not be wise to confront Maximilian Cronin in his
current state. While his powers all seemed to be there, Max still couldn’t
remember how to access most of them. Still, Max had only needed one good reason
to go after his father. And he had it. The bastard had killed Drew. Even if
she’d survived the change to vampire, which he instinctively knew she had, he’d
killed her. Taken her from everything she’d known, including him. For that
alone, Max wanted blood.

In no
uncertain terms, he told Kyros he was going to find his father and kill him.
Whether Kyros helped him or not was the warlock’s choice. It had taken Kyros
only a few minutes to discern Max would not be persuaded from his course, and
after shaking his head, he’d decided to reintroduce Max to his powers as a
warlock. It had been the equivalent of a crash course, but everything came to
him quickly and easily. Even Kyros seemed a bit surprised at his ease with his
powers, especially as he did not remember them.

“I’ve
thought it before but now I’m quite sure, Max. Before you lost your memory, you
had to have been trained as a tracker,” Kyros said from beside him.

“A
tracker?”

“Yes. A
member of an elite group of witches who essentially serve as guards and
soldiers for their race.”

Max didn’t
respond. His eyes were fixed on the chaotic scene happening in the distance. It
seemed he’d arrived late to the party. The wolves and witches had squared off,
and with his heightened sight and hearing, he could see blood splattered
against the green grass, could make out the snarls and growls of the
weres
,
and the blasts of the witches. There was also another presence in the distance,
hovering and watching.
Vampires
. He turned and surveyed the trees. Even
with his keen eyesight, he could make out nothing. But they were there. A large
number of them, waiting, patiently.

“Vampires,”
Kyros acknowledged without bothering to turn around.

Max
returned his attention to the melee. It didn’t take long to locate his father.
He stood in a circle of men, an invisible but impenetrable force field
surrounding them. In the midst of the circle were two barely visible girls, one
bound by golden chains and lying on the ground, and the other standing directly
before his father. She was chanting. There was also man lying in the middle of
the pentagram, a witch wearing sacrificial white. He was unconscious.

Closing his
eyes, Max was about to flash himself into the melee, when Kyros touched his
shoulder. He looked to the warlock, who shrugged his shoulder and replied,
“I’ve saved your life once already. You may need me again.”

If his
adrenaline wasn’t working overtime and he wasn’t so angry, Max was sure he
would have smiled. Instead, he nodded, closed his eyes once more, and flashed them
both into the midst of the fight.

Conall
snarled his frustration as he bounced off the invisible shield standing between
him and his mate. He could see Vivienne, perched on the ground and glaring at
Cronin as Cassie chanted above the roar of the grand Wizards’ voices. One of
the grand wizards, Wilhem, lay bound as a sacrificial offering before one of
the stones.

Pacing the
circle, Conall tried to find a weak spot. He found it behind an elderly grand
wizard who was growing weaker by the second. Shifting back to his human form,
he called upon the magic he’d learned growing up in a Celtic pack, attacking
that particular grand wizard enough to gain entry to the circle. His chants
overrode those of the witch, and he stopped chanting, opening his section of
the force field.

Tasting
triumph, Conall shifted and lunged forward, expecting to enter the circle
easily. He was blasted back, landing with a sickening thud on his side.
Ignoring the pain of the broken rib, he pushed to his feet. The force field was
now taller, and wider. Wind swirled around the grand wizards and their
captives, making it impossible for Conall to even see them.

I can’t
get to them, Conall,
Raoul
projected.

Conall
looked around, searching for some way to get around this new force field. His
eyes landed on a tall, fair-haired man in the distance. His arms were at his
sides, palms open, his eyes closed. Conall looked back to the force field, and
then back to the man. Was he controlling it? He sniffed and froze. A druid.
Conall didn’t have time to think on that. Time was flying and he needed to get
his mate.

Flattening
his ears against his head, he stalked the druid slowly. When he was a good
distance away, he broke out into a run, lunging directly for the man’s throat.
Pale eyes opened when Conall was only inches away and the druid stepped back.
Conall hit him square in the chest, breaking his concentration.

Get
them, Raoul!

The druid
easily put distance between them, teleporting from under the black wolf and
rising gracefully to his feet as sharp yellow eyes focused on him.

“I have no
quarrel with you, wolf,” he stated in a calm voice. He held out a hand, as if
pacifying a wild animal.

Conall’s
response was a deep snarl as he stalked him.

The man’s
eyes narrowed. “Be of ease, wolf. I do not wish to kill you.”

A loud
scream touched both of their ears, and Conall cringed and spun around, his eyes
searching out his mate. The force field was down, and Raoul and the rest of the
wolves were swarming Cronin and the grand wizards. Cronin now held a helpless
Vivienne against him while Cassie screamed.

Son-of-a-bitch!

The druid
forgotten, Conall took off in the direction of his mate, halting when saw the
blade against Vivienne’s throat. She looked calm, but he knew she must be
terrified.

“Call off
your dogs, Athelwulf! I have no need for her if I can’t resurrect the druids,”
Cronin roared, looking around for Conall.

Do as he
says,
he projected
to his pack. Hopefully the rest of the packs would get the hint and follow his
lead.

One by one,
the wolves inched backward, but not very far.

“Continue,”
Cronin bellowed to Cassandre, who had tears streaming down her face. When she
didn’t do as if he commanded immediately, Cronin pressed the blade into
Vivienne’s skin. She winced as a thin stream of red began to travel down her
neck. Conall snarled as he attacked the force field once more. He barely heard
Cronin’s “Now” above the roar of anger in his head.

Cassie was
caught on the verge of both crying and throwing up, unable to figure out which
she wanted to do more. Her mother had disappeared despite arriving just a few
moments ago, and Cronin now held a knife to her twin’s throat. She couldn’t
lose Vivienne.

She was in
the process completing the spell when her eyes landed on him.
Alexander.
He stepped into the circle, and closed his eyes. The wind around them kicked up
once more. He was reigniting the force field to keep them in and everyone else
out. Her tears fell even harder.
Stupid.
She was stupid to have ever
trusted him.

The words
left her mouth. The chanting of the grand wizards surrounded her. Something
from within burst forth, and words she had not learned tumbled from her lips.
There was a loud sound, a trembling of sorts, as if the earth were splitting,
and she looked up to find a portal opening not inches from her face. What
looked like a cloudy, almost smoky place was slowly becoming visible.

Something
cold touched her hand and she looked down to find a golden dagger was clutched
in her fist. Etched into the handle was a trident.

You know
what to do, Cassie.

Alexander
was speaking to her. Confusion made her still before she shook her head
vehemently. She would not! How could he expect her to?

Do it,
Cassie.

No!
It was one thing to recite a spell
to save her twin. It was quite another to kill an innocent man, especially a
defenseless one who was most likely dying already. Alexander’s eyes opened, and
seemed unfocused.

I told
you that you would have to trust me.

I will
never trust you again.

He moved to
her and retrieved the knife from her numb fingers. He leaned down and sliced
two identical cuts on the witch’s wrists. They didn’t bleed for a few seconds;
then blood began to gush. As soon as the flow hit the pentagram beneath him,
the portal began to grow. What was a small inch widened to many inches….

Cassie
gasped and stepped away as the witch’s blood ignited the pentagram beneath him.
She lifted her eyes to Alexander. How could he do this to someone, especially
as it had been done to him before? Or had it? Either way, he was a monster.

Recite
the spell.

She shook
her head.

Alexander’s
eyes flashed lightning for a brief moment before he said aloud, “Recite the
spell or I will kill your sister!”

In that
moment, Cassandre Bordeaux knew two things. She was a fool and Alexander Petraeus
was either bipolar, or had a twin. Hadn’t he promised that no harm would come
to her or her family yesterday? And hadn’t she wanted to believe him?

“I will
never forget this.” The calmness in her voice surprised even her.

He nodded
once. She began the spell once more, closing her eyes, giving her druid leeway
to improvise as she saw fit. She didn’t know how long she chanted, but
somewhere along the way, the rain began to fall, thunder roared, and lightning
bisected the sky. The night fell away briefly in submission to the day, only to
succumb once more to the darkness. Cassie chanted through it all, until her
voice cracked, and her druid grew silent.

When she
next opened her eyes, the portal was massive. It seemed to stretch almost a
quarter of a mile, and inside it, she could make out the pale, almost ghostly
faces of men, women, children, babies…. They were many, all hovering by the
portal, looking expectant, hopeful.

Alexander
leaned down and moved the witch away from the pentagram. He was still alive, if
barely. Cassie could hear the faint beat of his heart.

Come to
me, Cassandre.

Maybe it
was the awe of seeing so many faces across an almost-touchable border, but she
did as he asked. When they both stood inside the pentagram, he took her hand
and held it out. His pale gaze locked onto hers and she briefly wondered if she
saw regret in his eyes.

I am
sorry.

She didn’t
have time contemplate what that meant because the dagger sliced across her
wrist quickly. He’d cut her! Before she could pull away or retaliate in any
way, he dragged the blade across his own skin, and pressed the wound to hers.
As a science buff, Cassie didn’t even want to think of how disgusting that was.

She
struggled against him but he was strong.

Be
still. This is necessary.

She watched
in horror as their blood mingled and then fell in soft droplets onto the grass
beneath them. The pentagram ignited once more, this time with a white light
that glowed so brightly she had to close her eyes against it.

Behind her
lids, what seemed like lightning followed by thunderbolts blasted across the
sky. The wind picked up forcefully, and Cassie was glad for his hold on her.
The rain pelted them briefly, and then all was silent. Cassie’s heart pounded
as she stood close to him. He maintained his grip on her.

“My lord, I
have fulfilled my end of the bargain. It is your turn to fulfill yours.”

Vivienne
pressed her hand to her neck when Cronin released her. It came away red, as she
knew it would. Because her powers were bound, her cut would not heal. She
turned back to the large portal ahead of her, staring in awe at the sea of
people who looked back at them. They had gained color, turning from ghostly
apparitions to people of different hues, pale, tanned, darker-skinned…druids. They
seemed to be speaking to each other, but she couldn’t hear them. Babies were
fussing, but there was no sound. It was almost as if everything stood silent,
except Maximilian Cronin.