The Shadows Read online

  “So, basically Darkwolf’s a loose cannon,” Copper said.

  Hannah looked at each of her sister witches. “Who’s going to start scrying?”

  “I might as well.” Copper clenched her hands on the table in front of her as she leaned forward. “I’ve been having dream-visions that haven’t made a whole lot of sense. Last night’s was the clearest so far, although I don’t know what it means.”

  She frowned and looked at Hannah. “I saw a strange black sphere, something dark and shadowy, but I could tell you and someone else were inside the bubble.”

  Hannah resisted rubbing her arms as a chill slid over her skin. Copper shrugged, but Hannah could tell it wasn’t done casually. “I know it’s not much.” She tugged her long copper-colored braid over her shoulder. “But that’s all that has come to me.”

  Rhiannon opened her eyes and tipped her head forward as she looked at Hannah. No hostility was in Rhiannon’s expression, only thoughtfulness and puzzlement.

  “I see you with King Garran—my father. You’re on rocks, near water—an island, I think—and you’re in danger.” Rhiannon looked concerned as she studied Hannah. “Very serious danger. I just can’t see what.”

  Hannah did her best to remain calm and to not acknowledge the sharp edge of fear knifing through her. Before, their visions tended to be more general, encompassing them all. This was the first time Hannah had been the focus of Rhiannon’s and Copper’s visions.

  Everyone looked at Hannah for a moment before Alyssa picked up a match lying in front of her and struck it on a porous stone. The sharp tang of sulfur mixed with the blueberry scent of the blue candle Alyssa lit. “I chose blue for hope, spirituality, and protection…”

  Her words trailed off as she stared into the candle flame. Alyssa had always been the most sensitive, almost fragile, of all the gray magic D’Anu.

  Hannah had never said anything to any of her sister witches, but she’d always worried more about Alyssa than anyone else. The worry came from flashes Hannah had seen in her scrying mirror, feelings she’d had when she was close to Alyssa.

  Alyssa straightened in her seat and took a deep breath before blowing out the candle. She closed her eyes for a moment, a pained expression on her face.

  Not a good sign.

  The silence in the kitchen was so great that Hannah could hear the rumble of conversation, banging sounds, and other activity outside the room that she hadn’t been paying attention to before.

  Finally, Alyssa opened her eyes and met Hannah’s gaze. Alyssa’s soft brown eyes looked a little glassy and Hannah’s belly sank. From years of practice at keeping her expression unreadable, Hannah kept the growing fear off her own face.

  Alyssa took another audible breath. “Something’s going to happen, Hannah, and you’re going to be in the middle of it. Unless we can change the future, something’s going to happen between you, Garran, and Ceithlenn.”

  Hannah merely nodded before she turned her steady gaze to Sydney. The lavender-eyed witch calmly looked away from Hannah and struck a match before lighting one of the candles between her and the bowl of consecrated water.

  The citrus scent of the orange candle energized Hannah, sending a burst of strength through her. Orange candles were for success, strength, and fire.

  Candlelight reflected on Sydney’s glasses as she looked at Hannah and said, “I think I chose the appropriate candles for this divination.”

  Hannah simply gave a single nod before Sydney lit a gold candle, which signified not only wealth and abundance, but connection with the divine, the goddess Anu. The third candle Sydney lit was black, a color she always used. It had strong magic for banishment and protection from unseen forces.

  Sydney raised the orange candle and tipped it so that its wax dribbled into the bowl of water. After frowning at the patterns for a moment, she raised the gold candle and poured the wax from it into the bowl.

  She only waited a few seconds before adding wax from the black candle. She set that candle down, studied the wax in the water a little longer then blew out all three candles that sat in front of her. Remnants of smoke drifted away.

  Sydney’s throat worked as she folded her arms on the table and looked at Hannah. She tried a gentle smile. “Looks like you’re the star today.”

  Her smile faltered. “This war is going to hurt you in many ways. Perhaps physically, mentally—stressful situations that will challenge you and put you in much danger.”

  She glanced at the bowl again before returning her gaze to Hannah’s. “I see all of us in trouble, but you’re at the center. You and someone very, very close to you.”

  Hannah raised her eyebrows. She’d never been truly close to anyone—she kept people at a distance. As much as she loved her Coven sisters, she didn’t even let them get too near emotionally.

  “Well, this is all very interesting.” Hannah kept her tone dry. “What do you have to say, Mackenzie?”

  Hannah’s sister witch didn’t answer. She simply dealt her tarot cards in her favorite spread, a Celtic cross. She quietly flipped each card over and looked down at it before turning over the next and the next until she’d revealed all ten cards.

  She pursed her lips. “I see a lot of conflict within you, Hannah. In the way you look at what’s around you now, and how you will view things in the future.” Mackenzie studied the cards again.

  Hannah’s throat felt so dry it hurt. What could that possibly mean?

  Mackenzie’s blue eyes met Hannah’s. “You will go on a quest. I can’t tell whether this is something you do willingly, or something you’re forced to do. I can’t see if you’re successful.”

  Hannah couldn’t think of anything to say, so she turned to Cassia who was already tumbling her rune stones onto the black tabletop.

  It only took a moment before Cassia looked up, but she moved her gaze to each witch in the group instead of just focusing on Hannah like everyone else had. “The Alliance is facing an enormous battle ahead, and we will need the aid of the Drow, just as we had thought.”

  Cassia cocked her head as she studied the stones. “Something strange and unusual is on the horizon, but all we can do is wait and see what that is and be prepared to deal with it the best we can.”

  “How do we prepare to deal with something when we don’t even know what that something is?” Hannah asked, tucking her single shock of blond hair behind her ear.

  Cassia’s turquoise eyes remained steady, calm, like—like what? “We have to face this as it comes. I can’t see any other way.”

  Hannah resisted a frustrated huff and snatched up her vial of salt crystals. While taking a deep breath, she uncorked the vial and set the cork aside. She squeezed her eyes shut and said a soft chant in her mind to the Dragon Elementals, asking their assistance.

  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, murde
ring 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 was 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.

  12

  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 tattooed 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 thick 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 way too much 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.

  13

  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 what he 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 time after time.” 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.”

  He went on, “Not that I can blame them for refus
ing 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 almost to the warehouse door, Garran caught Hannah’s sweet womanly scent behind him.

  “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.