The Wicked Read online

  The Wicked

  Dark Sorcery 3

  Cheyenne McCray

  To my three sons, Tony, Kyle, and Matthew.

  You guys mean the world to me.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Excerpt: One Breath

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Also by Cheyenne McCray

  About Cheyenne

  1

  SAN FRANCISCO

  * * *

  “Take that, you damned troll.”

  Rhiannon Castle changed her grip on her game controller as she repeatedly pressed the green button that swung her tiny hobbit sword at the big troll.

  Rhiannon’s familiar, a cocoa-colored cat, sat on his haunches next to her. Spirit’s eyes darted back and forth and his tail twitched as he watched the creatures on the flat screen as if he planned to pounce on the troll himself.

  She shifted to get more comfortable on the carpet in front of the TV. She could almost hear Spirit laughing at her gaming abilities. His sarcasm knew no bounds. He couldn’t speak, but she could sense his emotions, which he frequently made clear to her.

  The troll swung its club and slammed it into the hobbit. “Damn,” Rhiannon said, as her hobbit’s life-force dropped to fifty-one percent.

  She narrowed her eyes, determined to take out the troll.

  The Shadows stirred inside her.

  Her scalp prickled.

  They wanted to come out and play.

  She sucked in her breath as she forced the Shadows back. “No.” She barely kept her focus on the game and dodged the troll. “Stay inside where you belong.”

  The Shadows didn’t want to stay. They pressed her harder than normal. They struggled to break free of the chains she had wrapped around them.

  Air felt trapped in her lungs and her heart pounded harder as they threatened to break free.

  Go back, she shouted in her mind. Go back and stay there.

  Hidden away, never to be set free, never to be known by anyone, not even her Coven sisters.

  Instead of leaving her alone, the Shadows egged her on, this time pushing her to win the game.

  She scowled, letting the Shadows hover close but not setting them free as she battled the troll with her little hobbit.

  Swing, strike, stab.

  The Shadows cheered. As if they were guiding her fingers, she made the killing blow in one fast motion.

  The troll collapsed and vanished. She sat and stared at the hobbit on the screen, and the place where the troll had been standing.

  A buzzing grew in her ears. The Shadows had taken control. They had helped her win the battle with the troll much faster than she would have normally.

  She breathed in deeply then let the air out slowly. “Go away,” she said, this time aloud. “I don’t need you. Go away.”

  The next level of the game started. This time huge spiders rushed toward her hobbit, like demons swarming the witches in her Coven.

  Fear crowded her belly and she flipped the switch on the console to off.

  Her breathing had gone shallow and she gulped in a lungful of air. She had been playing the game to escape her reality.

  Slowly, she got to her feet and tried to calm her breathing, and her heart.

  Demons now roamed San Francisco, killing humans in their path. And a flame-haired goddess was in control.

  The vision came quick and strong.

  Rhiannon dropped to her knees on her apartment floor and tried to breathe.

  Ceithlenn. The evil goddess from Underworld.

  The being’s hair literally flamed and her eyes glowed a deep red. Her fangs seemed to lengthen even as Rhiannon watched. Her claws extending, her huge leather wings expanding.

  The goddess was terrifying and fascinating all at once.

  The force of Ceithlenn’s hunger gripped Rhiannon, as if it were her own belly that rumbled painfully. The knowledge that Ceithlenn hadn’t fed in the three days since she’d left Underworld flowed into Rhiannon through the being’s thoughts.

  Darkness was Ceithlenn’s friend as she swooped through the San Francisco skyline searching for a victim or two.

  The goddess dropped silently in a crouch behind a man with a pink Mohawk. She watched him for a moment, perching on the cracked sidewalk with her clawed hands resting between her thighs. In Underworld there had been no humans to dine on, and they looked delicious.

  Rhiannon’s stomach churned.

  Ceithlenn extended her sharp claws as she moved her hand to the side. She slowly scraped her nails across the cement, a deep, ominous sound.

  It came to Rhiannon, then. Ceithlenn was waiting for her victim to acknowledge her. She wanted to experience the delight of the man seeing death staring him in the face.

  She studied her prey intently and swiped her tongue between her lips before giving a low roar like a tiger.

  The moment Ceithlenn growled, the guy came to a stop. From out of his jacket sleeve he flipped open a switchblade and whirled to see what or who was behind him.

  His eyes widened at the sight of the goddess. “What the hell?”

  With one flap of her great wings Ceithlenn leapt onto the man, slamming him to the concrete.

  His knife skittered across the sidewalk. He started to shout but she sank her fangs into his throat before a sound could leave him.

  Rhiannon nearly screamed as blood spurted. Ceithlenn’s thrill roared through her as she dined on the human’s flesh.

  And then power. Ceithlenn sucked up the dying man’s soul, drawing it into her until his final death rattle. The potency of absorbing the human’s soul was electrifying. The burst Ceithlenn felt in her magical strength was unreal.

  As realization dawned so did her delight—she could absorb a human’s soul and magnify her own powers. That was something she had never been able to do with any other living creature or being.

  Rhiannon trembled and almost threw up as the vision held her captive and Ceithlenn dined until filled.

  Rhiannon felt the goddess’s satisfaction and triumph—and the thrill of her discovery.

  Souls. She needed more human souls.

  For a moment Ceithlenn scowled. Looked around. Sniffed the air.

  Rhiannon recoiled.

  Was the goddess feeling Rhiannon’s presence?

  Ceithlenn scowled again then took to the air, flapping her great leather wings. Rhiannon felt Ceithlenn’s rush of ecstasy as she circled the city. Sated for now and satisfied with her discovery, the goddess headed to her lair.

  Ceithlenn glanced over her shoulder, as if she were looking directly at Rhiannon, and growled.

  Rhiannon felt the darkness then, the recognition of the Shadows inside her—and knew the goddess
recognized it, too.

  Rhiannon cried out as she jerked back to reality. Her eyelids popped open to see that she was in her own apartment.

  Her sight blurred and she could hardly breathe. Bile rose in her throat as she tried to ignore the memory of Ceithlenn and the man, but she couldn’t handle it any longer.

  Rhiannon scrambled from the floor of her living room and fled for the bathroom. She fell to the linoleum, hit her knees, and puked into the toilet until nothing was left. It felt as though her stomach would come up her throat.

  She spit the acidic taste from her mouth. Another thought of the goddess eating the human caused her to dry heave so that her sides ached from it.

  When she stood to rinse out her mouth in the sink, she caught a glimpse in the mirror of her moon-white face. The usually pale scars slashed across one cheek by the queen of the Fomorii demons stood out like red trails.

  Sweat on her forehead glistened in the bathroom light. She looked away from the mirror, washed her face, swished water in her mouth, and brushed her teeth.

  Her mind was a jumble as she staggered from the bathroom into her bedroom.

  Had Ceithlenn seen her?

  Worst yet, had the goddess seen the Shadows?

  Before Rhiannon reached her bed, she dropped to the carpet, and passed out from exhaustion.

  And fear.

  2

  OTHERWORLD

  * * *

  Keir laced the leather ties of his breeches as Lise lay curled up on the bed, watching him. His Pleasure Partner’s elbow pressed into the mattress, her head resting in her palm. She gave him a sultry and satisfied smile, telling him she wanted more.

  Keir had far more pressing matters to be concerned with than the beautiful, naked woman on the bed.

  While he had been training more Tuatha D’Danann warriors, he had not been to the San Francisco Otherworld for three months. Time had run out and now he must return with his warriors to the city come morning.

  Lise’s lush breasts with their large pink nipples were tempting enough that for a moment he considered climbing back into bed with her.

  Pleasure Partners like Lise willingly chose to serve in Pleasure Houses designed to fulfill the fantasies and needs of all comers. Keir did not mess with fantasies. What he wanted when he came to a Pleasure House was a good fuck.

  “Sure you’re not ready for another round?” Lise said in a voice that came out in a purr. She pushed herself to a sitting position and lightly ran one of her fingers down his biceps as he yanked on one of his boots. “I want to take you again, warrior.”

  Obviously, Lise had decided to drive him out of his mind by bringing him back to full attention. But he did not have time to indulge in bedding her again.

  “I have business to attend to, woman,” Keir said gruffly, yet it did not deter Lise.

  Her warm vanilla scent wrapped around him as she pushed his hair aside and pressed her lips to his neck while he pulled on his other boot.

  “Your reputation as a lover was not exaggerated. Despite your show of roughness, you are one of the most incredibly passionate partners I have had. It is no wonder all the women in this Pleasure House would willingly spread their legs for you.” She sighed. “Bastard son or not, any lady, from highborn to Pleasure Partner, would love to have you between her thighs.”

  Keir scowled, feeling the familiar rise of anger at the mention of his parentage. Not that anyone but the man who fathered him cared about Keir being a bastard.

  Between Keir and his half-brother Hawk, he had definitely not been the favored child—as his stepmother was quick to remind him. It had created a bitter rift between him and Hawk—the son of a true union. A rift that had lasted to this very day, centuries later.

  Keir had learned as a boy not to form sentimental attachments of any kind. Even his blood mother had abandoned him.

  The only ones he trusted were his D’Danann warrior brethren. He trusted them in battle and with his life. It was ironic that Hawk was counted among the brethren.

  “You are a mystery. A puzzle to be solved,” Lise said.

  He jerked on his leather tunic, forcing her to move away from him. Before she could touch him again, he stood and strode to a chair where he had flung his weapons belt before taking the Pleasure Partner to bed.

  The room was too frilly for his taste. Pastels with wildflowers and white furnishings—a woman’s room. Vanilla-scented candles flickered on every surface, and the smell mingled with the scent of their sex.

  Keir fastened his weapons belt around his waist and did not bother to look at Lise again. They had gone three rounds and yet she was begging for more.

  The thought should have given him some measure of satisfaction, but as usual he felt nothing more than the easing of his needs and the desire to go back to the training yards.

  “I wonder what kind of woman it would take to tame you?” Lise said casually.

  The comment caught Keir off guard and he cut his gaze to Lise. Her lips were pursed and she looked as if she truly was interested in her own question.

  Keir did not bother to answer. No woman would tame him.

  He pulled more than enough coins from a pouch in a pocket of his breeches and dropped them on a table beside the bed. The coins clattered across the surface and one rolled to the edge.

  Lise caught it with a delicate sweep of her hand and closed her fingers over the gold. “Trust me,” she said with a quick grin. “One day you will meet that woman and she will have you on your knees.”

  Keir gave a slight bow from his shoulders. “Madame Lise,” he said before turning away. His boots thumped on the wooden flooring as he headed out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

  Women.

  He would need to return shortly to San Francisco with the younger Fae warriors he had been training in the skills needed to defeat Fomorii demons.

  Unfortunately, none of them could be trained to fight Ceithlenn until the D’Danann were able to discover her weaknesses. And Keir would be damned if he did not find a way to determine what those weaknesses were.

  Keir strode from the well-kept Pleasure House toward the training yards. Dust swirled around his boots on the dry path and sunshine warmed his bare arms. The clang of swords rang through the air, becoming louder as he approached the yards.

  Word had come to him only yesterday that Silver Ashcroft, a witch and Hawk’s mate, had scried with her cauldron that Ceithlenn was, as feared, in San Francisco. Another witch he had not met had experienced a vision that spoke of foul deeds this evil goddess had already committed.

  When Keir reached the yards he noticed with satisfaction that his new warriors looked fit and ready for battle. He would only be taking ten more D’Danann with him to fight the Fomorii and Ceithlenn, but this contingent would have to be enough. They would join the other warriors currently stationed in the city.

  The Chieftains would allow no more to pass through the veil. As it was, their leaders did so grudgingly, since crossing to an Otherworld like San Francisco required the aide of Elves or those with Elvin blood.

  Prejudices between the Elves and the Fae ran deep, and it was a wonder that any form of agreement had been reached for travel between worlds. The rivalry extended back over millennia.

  The rivalry stemmed from arguments on whether travel or contact to old Otherworlds should be allowed, and the Fae believed the access points should be sealed. Being more neutrally aligned, the Fae had always been more clannish and territorial and less for traveling to old Otherworlds.

  On the other hand, the Elves had always been more arrogant, less territorial, more for freedom and remaining uninvolved. They were also neutrally aligned, however, and on occasion would step in on the side of right and justice.

  The Elves were ultimately responsible for the whole mess in Otherworld. If not for them, the access points would all have been sealed, and no being could have gone to the San Francisco Otherworld. Now that they had created the mess, the Elves had not even stepped up to fix w
hat they had caused.

  Keir folded his arms across his chest as he watched two of his warriors spar. The pair battled at the center of a small circle of D’Danann Enforcers who cheered them on. Rhona was lighter on her feet and quicker with her sword, but the young man Tegan was gifted with the speed of flight.

  Rhona and Tegan clashed swords and for a moment were locked in a battle of power and will. She whipped her sword around his and shoved Tegan away. In a beautiful display of strength and agility, she performed a quick backflip, landed in a crouch, and swept her sword at Tegan’s knees.

  Tegan had already unfurled his great gray wings and rose to easily dodge her blow. He attacked from the air, but Rhona rolled on the dusty ground, out of his reach, sprang to her feet, and released her own pair of beautiful russet wings that matched her hair.

  Pride filled Keir’s chest at the sight of his warriors.

  These days, the D’Danann Enforcers only left the Sidhe to answer calls for aid from other beings in various Otherworlds—if approved by the Chieftains. Now that the damned Fomorii demons had escaped their purgatory, it was the duty of the D’Danann to take them out.

  Fomorii were demons from Underworld that could kill a human by taking over his or her body. The demon then became that person—at least in appearance—and took over that individual’s life. Fomorii could morph from demon form to human form at will. Most of the demons had infiltrated the city’s government and several wealthy individuals.