Visions of Skyfire (19 page)

“Died,” Rune said, recalling exactly how he had mourned her, how he had been consumed with rage and grief at her passing. At what she and her sisters had wrought on all of them in a quest for more power. “You died. All of you. Leaving us to wait for your souls to reincarnate. Again and again, we watched over you. Sometimes at your sides, sometimes no more than a shadow on the periphery of your existence.

“And always, we
waited
, sentenced by your spell as surely as you yourselves were, to a centuries-long agony of a half life.” He slid his hands down to her upper arms and held on to her. Staring into her eyes, he felt himself drowning in those dark brown depths. “As immortals, we were forced to continue on through hundreds of dark, empty years. Without you. Without the other halves of our souls.”

“Rune,” she said, her mouth working as she tried to keep from crying, tried to keep her voice steady, “if we could have gone back and undone it, we would have.”

“But you couldn’t and so we all paid. As we continue to do.”

She sighed heavily, blinked back the tears glistening in her eyes and said, “Centuries of incarnations, waiting for the spell to end with the Awakening so we could get the Artifact back and destroy it. Now we have thirty short days to try to set it all right.”

His mouth flattened.

“What do you want from me? What’s done is done. It can’t be changed. It can’t be forgotten. All we can do now is fight
this
fight. To bring the pieces of the Artifact together again so we can destroy it, once and for all.”

Rune’s gaze moved over her features, from the teardampened eyes to the stubborn tilt of her chin. He wanted to believe in her again. But it was hard to move past centuries of mistrust. He’d spent so many years wandering the earth, his soul an open wound because of the magic she had chosen over him. How was he now to turn his back on hundreds of years’ worth of rage and give her his faith? His gaze dropped to the beginnings of the brand burned into her skin at her nipple and something inside him eased just a bit.

This was not the same, he told himself. Before, the witches had held themselves separate from the Eternals. Though they had been welcomed as partners in sex, they’d been denied the Mating ritual. The coven hadn’t wanted to share magic—not even with a mate.

He touched her tattoo, rubbing his thumb over the physical reminder of her vow to him and his to her. This was more than the two of them had ever shared before. This lifetime was different. The Awakening had come and she was his as she had always been meant to be.

She drew a breath and his thumb dipped lower to smooth the tip of her pebbled nipple. Teresa’s eyes slid closed on a sigh and Rune’s body thickened to the point of aching.

“Enough talk,” he muttered, dipping his head to claim her mouth in a kiss designed to wipe away centuries of misery. “I must have you.”

Their mouths met in a frenzy, as if neither of them could ever taste or feel enough. And when she finally broke away, gasping for air, Rune was teetering on the edge of madness.

She lifted both hands to cup his face and looked into his eyes as she said, “I made a vow this time, Rune. We’re mates. In this together. This time things will be different.”

Her words inflamed him as much as her touch did. If he’d had a beating heart, it would have been crashing against his rib cage. But his hunger was alive and growing and that was all he needed at the moment. He tumbled her back on the bed and let the future take care of itself.

Chapter 32

T
hey spent two days in Aladdin’s cave, as Teresa thought of it. And during that time, they pushed the mating brand into showing itself fully.

“Lightning bolts,” Teresa murmured, glancing down at the tattoo on her bare breast. There was one complete bolt jutting up from the edge of her nipple and beginning to curl into yet another bolt that was just starting to bloom onto her skin. Linked together, they would make a chain of sorts, like a storm cloud of lightning on her skin.

She smiled at the brand and, running her finger over the tattoo, she felt caged power within her, humming in the design itself. Ancient magic was sliding through her system with every passing moment, settling itself into her body at the cellular level.

Teresa felt stronger, more vibrant somehow. As if she was becoming what she’d always longed to be. She could feel her body waking up. Everything in her was reaching, stretching and growing. Her soul was sparklingly alive for the first time, awakening even as the magic within arose.

And the magic was breathtaking.

Rune had been right. She was gaining control of it, beginning to know how to wield the massive electrically charged bolts that seemed to dance to her whims. The thrill of magic sliding through her was something she thought she would never get tired of. This time with Rune was bringing her closer and closer to the witch she was destined to be.

And she hungered for it.

Just as she hungered to know more. To remember more.

Her Eternal had become the center of her life. She hadn’t expected that. But there was more to him than his nature as a warrior. He protected her. Taught her.

She cared for him. His quiet voice. His steely eyes. The patience he showed when he taught her the very magic she needed to survive. His quick smile and fierce lovemaking. He was so much more than she had thought he would be.

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure Rune hadn’t returned unexpectedly, she turned her gaze back to the mirror hanging over a low marble-topped table against the cave wall. She looked into her own eyes and realized that she was in some danger here. Yes, she was stronger, and her powers were blossoming like a waterstarved flower experiencing spring rain.

But there was something more, too. A seed of something dark that scratched at the edges of her soul. Niggling temptation. Seduction. She felt it every time she called on her powers. Something as dark as the lightning was bright. And it
knew
her. Teresa felt it.

“You won’t give in,” she told her reflection, lowering her gaze to the tattoo on her mirror image’s breast. She had come too far. Lost too much already to surrender herself to the past. Whatever attractions the pull of dark power had over her, they were nothing compared to the need to find justice for Elena and everyone else hurt by those chasing after this Artifact.

Feeling her twisted nerves settle, she pulled up a chair in front of the table. She had already laid out six of the white votive candles they’d gotten at the store what seemed like a lifetime ago.

While Rune was out gathering supplies and checking to make sure no hunters were near, Teresa was going to work a spell. Enlightenment. That’s what she needed. Knowledge of the past, and of the future. A smidgen of help from whatever gods happened to be paying attention.

Gently, she reached out and laid one fingertip atop the wick of a solitary candle. Instantly, a spark shot from her skin, setting the wick ablaze. Smiling, she did the same for the other five until the ring of light burned in her reality and in the reflective-glass world as well.

Twice the candle-magic power.

She sat on the chair naked, and curled her legs up beneath her and squared her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, waved her open palms over the candle flames and chanted, “Light to light, I call. Remember me and answer. I search the past to gain the future. Light to light, I call.”

Eyes still closed, she felt a wind sigh into the room, lift her hair from her shoulders and tangle it around her head. A tingle of awareness prickled her skin when she sensed a presence in the room. It wasn’t Rune—she knew that, because if it had been, her body would have simmered with the raw hunger that tore at her whenever he was near. But Teresa couldn’t risk stopping her spell and opening her eyes to confront whatever was with her.

If it was a helpful spirit, she would have what she asked. If it was death, she would know that soon enough. She took a breath and continued to move her hands in graceful arcs and designs in the air above the lit candles. If she interrupted the spell now, there was a possibility of a backlash of magic that she wasn’t strong enough yet to combat.

So she went on, gathering her strength. Knitting together the tattered ends of her courage and holding on tightly.

“Light to light, I call,” she chanted again, her voice louder this time, more insistent. Her hands moved faster now, in intricate patterns over the candles. She felt the heat of the flames against her palms but didn’t let that deter her. She knew these hand gestures well. Had learned them from her grandmother when she was a girl.

The gestures represented sacred symbols meant to call down the attention of the old gods. Teresa focused on her task and tried to ignore the unseen presence. She felt the candle flames wavering now with the growing wind. Goose bumps rose on her arms and along her spine. Magic sizzled and snapped. She felt power dancing all around her as the presence came closer, until it was only steps away. The small hairs at the back of her neck stood straight up as she finished the spell.

“I seek answers,” she murmured, her voice little more than a whispered prayer. “I seek to know. Let the light guide me to the right path for knowledge and power to fight the enemy’s wrath.”

The wind abruptly died.

She opened her eyes.

The candle flames
whoosh
ed three feet high, then extinguished in a blink.

And in the mirror someone moved up behind her.

Teresa lifted her gaze, felt tears well and whispered, “Elena?”

Chapter 33

A
few hours later, Rune snapped his satellite phone open, hit number three on speed dial and waited impatiently as a distant phone rang. His mind raced and his blood pumped with the need to return to Teresa. Standing on an outcropping of rock a half mile from the cave where she waited, Rune felt more alone than he had in centuries.

He’d had to leave her behind when he returned to the village for supplies and now he was grateful that he had. He had seen the circling flock of buzzards first. Dipping and wheeling in the wind, they performed a dance of death that told Rune he wouldn’t have to worry about avoiding the villagers.

Flashing to the middle of the narrow street, he had been surrounded by carnage. Every villager—men, women, and children—was dead. All of them. They had died in a cascade of bullets, their bodies ripped and torn, and now the buzzards were dropping out of the sky like black snow to finish them off.

He had taken what they needed from the store and gotten out of the little town as quickly as possible.

It had been a long time since he had experienced real fear. But it was with him now.

Whoever had annihilated that village was after Teresa. And they clearly didn’t care who they had to kill to get to her.

Every protective instinct he had ever possessed was roaring to the surface. His huge body practically vibrated with the need to safeguard her. Hold her in the circle of his arms, safe from anything that might harm her. But more even than the need to protect her was the ancient, pulsing demand to claim her body again and again. To drive the mating brand to completion.

To finish this quest.

Because only then would she be completely safe.

“Rune. Problem?”

Torin’s voice shattered his thoughts and jerked him back to the present. An Eternal like Rune, Torin had been the first of them to brand his Awakened witch and find their shard of the Artifact. Together, he and Shea had returned the black silver to Haven—the coven’s home in Wales.

Wales, with its lush greenery and crashing waves against timeworn cliffs, was a long way from here, Rune mused. In more ways than one. In Wales, there was safety. The coven’s home offered exactly what its name implied—a haven. Here, in Mexico, Rune felt danger creeping ever closer. His sharp gaze swept the dark, empty desert around him. The emptiness was a facade, he knew. There was life out there, behind every rock and bush. Snakes, coyotes, wildcats—not to mention the kind of predator that walked on two legs. Hunters roamed these darkened sands. He could feel it—a hum just under his skin that warned of an encroaching menace.

But from where?

“Lots of problems.” Rune’s gaze narrowed on the sliver of moon shining down out of a black star-swept sky.

“What?” Torin’s voice was taut, expectant.

“I’ve got Teresa. We’re in Mexico, going to head to Chiapas to see her grandmother in a day or two.”

“And?”

“Most recently? We stopped in a village for supplies and got made. A couple of the townspeople tried to earn the reward for capturing a witch. I took care of it and got Teresa to Finn’s cave.”

“Sounds fine. So what happened?”

“Just got back from that village. Went for more supplies. Somebody had been there. Took out the whole place.” Shaking his head, he narrowed his gaze on the mountain where Teresa waited for him. “Every last soul dead.”

“Fuck. Any idea who?”

“No.” Grinding his teeth, Rune continued. “There’s more, Torin. I was going to call you about this, anyway, even without the dead village. Elena Vargas, a friend of Teresa’s, was killed in Sedona. She was a doctor, Torin. Not a witch. She helped us out and no more than an hour or so later she was dead.”

Seconds of silence ticked by before Torin said, “How was she killed?”

“Looked like she was strangled. But not before she was tortured.” He hissed in a breath at the memory. He hadn’t wanted to show Teresa how her friend’s death had affected him, but it had. The woman had died because she had helped
him
. For that alone, Rune owed her justice. “Arm and hand broken—but Torin, one side of her body was burned to a crisp.”

“Say again?”

“You heard me right.” The image of Elena’s body rose up in his mind again and he didn’t like what he was thinking. Hard not to go there, though. “There’s no way that was done without magic. Unless the guy had a portable blowtorch he carried with him.”