The Shadows Read online

  Even the use of his own magic, magic that had nothing to do with the eye, drained Darkwolf enough that his vision wavered.

  Could Balor track him through his own powers now?

  Fuck.

  They traveled so long and far Darkwolf’s feet ached and felt like bricks. The burden of the eye grew lesser the farther from Balor they managed to get, and the pain in Darkwolf’s head faded to a harsh throb.

  They walked and walked through the rain, Darkwolf using his sorcery to twist minds whenever he was forced to.

  When they had gone as far as the eye would allow them to, South San Francisco, Darkwolf and Elizabeth were beyond exhausted. He felt it to his marrow, as if every one of his bones were being compressed by a vise. It had stopped raining, but he was soaked through and goose bumps rose on his skin.

  Elizabeth walked through the gate of a home with a manicured lawn, the metal springs of the gate squeaking as it opened and closed. The sound of her running shoes echoed on the wooden steps in the silence of the night.

  She knocked on the door. It creaked as it was opened. The door shut behind Elizabeth. She was in.

  Darkwolf waited, squeezed his eyes tight, trying to shut out the images of what Elizabeth—now Junga the demon—was doing to the people inside of that home. He heard a shout, a scream, throaty growling sounds—

  Then quiet.

  His stomach churned, acid rising up in his throat, the urge to hurl almost overwhelming.

  Darkwolf opened his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He took in the quiet neighborhood, trying to get his mind to move to anything else. Everything had an abandoned look to it, but he knew it was all because of the rampant fear in the city.

  Bioterrorism.

  He shook his head. Balor and Ceithlenn were far worse than any threat these people could imagine.

  19

  Toward evening, after being caught in bed with Garran, Hannah was gripped by the urge to scry. She slipped away from all of the clamor and grabbed her pack from the room she and Garran had slept in.

  Rain pounded on the warehouse’s metal rooftop like percussionists playing snare drums as she headed through the maze of hallways. She searched the recently built rooms for an empty one, void of any personal articles. She’d already taken a shower and had slipped into a fresh set of clothing.

  The irony of Rhiannon finding Hannah and Garran in bed together was enough to make Hannah shake her head. It was Rhiannon’s father with whom Hannah had started having an affair—and she and Rhiannon barely tolerated each other.

  Hannah held her pack tighter as she made her way farther toward the back of the warehouse. She sighed. It was probably time to make nice and not be such a bitch to Rhiannon. Then maybe Rhiannon would stop being a major bitch to Hannah. Maybe.

  Garran—he’d been at a loss as to what to say to his newfound daughter about his relations with Hannah, and she’d told him he was on his own. She had no idea, either.

  Hannah’s shoes made soft sounds on the concrete floor as she walked. Her thoughts turned to Ceithlenn and the Fomorii. Had all those demons truly vanished? Had they been sent to Underworld like Garran said?

  If so, how?

  Hannah whistled to Banshee. With a low cry, the falcon circled overhead then came to rest gently on her shoulder.

  While her familiar stayed with her, Hannah found a small, empty room, and closed the door. It had plain plywood walls and a bare floor, not another thing in it. Smells of sawdust and wood made her sneeze before she set down her pack and sat cross-legged beside it. The concrete floor was cool beneath her.

  Rain drummed on the building even harder, the tin roof and siding causing loud echoes in the room. The sound blended with all of the sawing, drilling, pounding in the background as builders made additional rooms so that this would be an even more secure stronghold for their defenses against Ceithlenn.

  As far as magical protections, the witches had used every warding they knew of, and were reasonably confident the magic would keep the Fomorii and Ceithlenn out.

  The headquarters was being thrown up in temporary fashion but it would give privacy to those who needed it. Her lips twisted into a wry smile. Locks on the doors would certainly help.

  She pulled out her scrying mirror.

  It wriggled in her hand.

  Banshee let out a sound of surprise and she gasped as she stared at the Dragons. The frame was made of two of the creatures, each biting the tail of the other, and they were moving in a circle.

  By the goddess Anu, the Dragons were moving!

  The mirror almost slipped from her fingers because her hand shook so badly and the handle continued wriggling. Her heart thumped against her breastbone as she managed to set the mirror on the floor without dropping it. As soon as it lay flat, the Dragons stilled in different positions than the one they had always been in before.

  For a long moment Hannah just looked at the Dragons, her skin prickling. What did it mean? A chill rolled through her as she realized it had to be a sign. A bad sign.

  Banshee ruffled his feathers and with a low cry expressed his concern.

  She waited until her hands steadied before she took her vial of sea salt from her pack. The cork made a popping sound when she pulled it out.

  Hannah’s countless years of controlling her emotions and reactions eroded in those few moments. The hand that held the vial shook, and she grasped her wrist with her other hand and tilted the vial.

  The world narrowed to that point where all she saw were the mirror and the salt crystals as each individual grain tumbled down to bounce and settle on the black glass. The cold found her heart as she analyzed the way the grains moved through the air, until the vial was empty, and she set it aside.

  The salt crystals stilled the moment they hit the mirror’s surface. As she stared at the patterns her heart turned to ice.

  Fomorii. Countless. Spread throughout the city in human shells. Former military, law enforcement, and government officials and other individuals with power.

  The images shifted. Ceithlenn calling to them, ordering them all to battle, after they had transformed back into their demon forms.

  The largest battle the Alliance had ever fought against the evil from Underworld.

  Hannah’s heart thudded harder.

  Where were the Dark Elves?

  Innocent people murdered—slashed to ribbons. Gutted. Throats torn out.

  A scream rose in Hannah’s throat.

  Then the image faded and she saw herself.

  Bound by powerful magic. Trapped with Fomorii.

  Facing Ceithlenn.

  Hannah snapped out of the vision and collapsed on her side. Banshee took flight before she hit the floor and pain flashed through her upper arm and shoulder. The falcon shrieked so loudly that his cry rang throughout the warehouse.

  Sweat rolled down the sides of Hannah’s face as she pushed herself back to a sitting position. Heat then chills then heat rolled through her and her arms shook as she braced them to either side of her.

  The door opened and a jolt traveled through Hannah. When she cut her gaze to the doorway, Cassia walked in, with her great white wolf familiar, Kael, at her side. Cassia wore jeans and a T-shirt like everyone else since they were at war. In the past Cassia wore only skirts and blouses.

  She shut the door behind her and walked to Hannah and settled on the floor across from her and the mirror. Kael remained alert next to Cassia, but sat on his haunches.

  Banshee swooped down from overhead and landed on Hannah’s sore shoulder just hard enough to make her wince. She sensed his immediate apology.

  Hannah avoided looking down at the pattern of crystals on the mirror or the changed Dragons. Instead she focused on Cassia’s eyes. “Banshee summoned you?”

  The half-Elvin witch nodded. “What happened?”

  More sweat rolled down the side of Hannah’s face and she wiped it away with the heel of her palm. “The short version is that the other half of Ceithlenn’s army is in the city.”


  She swallowed and tried to regain her composure. “And it looks like I’m going to be up front and personal with the goddess.”

  Cassia studied her then her gaze lowered to land on the mirror. “The Dragons have shifted.”

  “I don’t understand why.” Hannah couldn’t get herself to look at the mirror or the salt crystals. She also couldn’t get herself to tell Cassia about her visions of the Fire Dragon turning against her. “It didn’t feel right. Something’s wrong.”

  “A portent.” Cassia kept looking at Hannah’s mirror, so she finally lowered her eyes to look at it, too.

  Nothing had changed, and Hannah’s stomach twisted harder. Same message. Needing to get it out of her sight, Hannah scooped up her vial, grabbed the mirror around the handle, and tilted it so that the crystals tinkled back into their container. Every last one of them as always.

  When she’d corked and put the vial into her backpack, she reached for the mirror, but Cassia clasped her fingers around Hannah’s hand.

  “Wait.” Cassia released her and Hannah left the mirror on the floor. “We need to speak to the Dragons.”

  Hannah sat back, her hands resting on her knees, still sitting cross-legged on the floor. She took a deep breath and concentrated on gaining her composure. “What do we need to do?”

  “A spell.” Cassia cast a circle around them, using her sparking magic and chanting a simple circle-casting spell.

  When she finished, she sat beside Kael, cross-legged like Hannah. Cassia braced her palms on her knees just as Hannah had done before speaking.

  “Dragons of darkness and destruction, we seek your wise counsel and your instruction.

  Cassia and Hannah of the D’Anu ask for your assistance true.

  We greet you, Dragons immortal and wise,

  Dragons of fire, earth, water, and skies.

  To block all that is evil is our will.

  Your powers are our desires that you fill.

  Our loyalty to you, the ancient and wise,

  Dragons of fire, earth, water, and skies.

  For guiding and protecting we who love and respect you. So mote it be.”

  As soon as Cassia said the last words, the Dragons on the mirror’s frame began to move in a circle.

  Hannah’s heart pounded harder. The black glass of the mirror turned smoky gray, something that had never happened before.

  The Dragons swirled faster.

  Smoke rose from the mirror, smells of burning wood and ashes rising in the air.

  Faster they spun.

  Faster.

  The mirror splintered, glass exploding in the full radius of the circle Cassia had cast.

  Banshee shrieked.

  Kael howled.

  Hannah threw up her arm to protect her eyes.

  She felt nothing, no glass slicing into her body.

  She lowered her arm when silence followed the sound of shattering glass and she looked down.

  The mirror’s black glass was gone. All that remained was the blank, plain frame. The Dragons had vanished, too.

  Hannah’s whole body trembled and the backs of her eyes burned with tears that could never come. How could the Dragons have abandoned her? What had she done? Why had they left?

  Cassia’s quiet voice caused Hannah to look up and meet the half-Elvin witch’s gaze. “This can be interpreted two ways.”

  Through the buzzing in Hannah’s ears, she barely heard Cassia continue. “Either the Dragons have left to fight for you. Or they have gone to fight for Ceithlenn.”

  Hannah pushed herself to her feet and walked away, breaking the circle, and feeling shattered to her core.

  Garran rubbed his temples. He had no idea how in the name of all the gods he was going to explain what had happened at Alcatraz. The simple fact was he couldn’t.

  “They’re gone.” Rhiannon looked incredulous as she stared at him. She snapped her fingers in the air. “Just like that?”

  All of the gray magic D’Anu witches and leaders of the D’Danann warriors had gathered in a newly built common room in the warehouse, as well as Jake Macgregor.

  Every one of them stared at Garran and Hannah, waiting for a full explanation of what had occurred at the cavern on Alcatraz.

  Garran raised his head and let his hand fall from his temple to his side. “As I said when we returned, I can tell you no more than the fact that the demons are gone. They have been sent back to Underworld.”

  Jake nodded. “We saw for ourselves that the Alcatraz cavern is empty. The Fomorii are gone.”

  “Not all of them,” Hannah said, and Garran cut his attention to her, his body heating at her words. “I just scried and learned that, like we thought, demons are in the city, occupying the bodies of people in high positions. Military. Government. Business.” She looked at Jake Macgregor. “Law enforcement.”

  Then she sucked in her breath. “But not as few as we figured. Almost half the original number of Fomorii are here, in the city.”

  “Fuck.” Jake’s hands curled into fists. “That’s what’s been going on. Why things coming down from the top officials don’t make sense.”

  Numbness spread its way through Garran as he stared at Hannah. “Are you certain?”

  “Not one single doubt in my mind.” If anything, Hannah was impossibly paler, as if all the blood had left her face. “All we can do is prepare for another war. This one’s going to be a lot harder to fight.”

  Hannah explained her divinations, but Garran had a feeling she was leaving something out. Perhaps many things.

  When she finished, the witches, warriors, and Jake fired questions at her. She answered all of them with her usual composure and grace.

  The witches discussed how Hannah’s divination connected with theirs from the day prior and asked Hannah if she had additional signs of anything that might happen to her or Garran.

  Garran’s gaze shot to Hannah. “What are they speaking about?”

  “The other night.” She briefly met his eyes before looking away from him. “We scried about you and I going to Alcatraz, only we didn’t understand it at the time.”

  “Anything else?” Cassia said quietly as she stroked her wolf.

  Hannah avoided Cassia’s eyes and shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Garran narrowed his eyes as he looked from Cassia to Hannah. Something was not right. Hannah was lying and Cassia knew it.

  As soon as those in the common room had broken into groups to work on various strategies, Garran grabbed Hannah’s hand and dragged her down a corridor between a few of the newly built rooms.

  Fire simmered under his skin as he sensed her lies. She stumbled when he pulled her down the corridor. When they reached the end of the hallway, she yanked her hand away from his grip and glared up at him.

  “What in the name of the Ancestors is your problem?” A little color had returned to stain her cheeks, the red looking bright compared to how pale the rest of her face was.

  He narrowed his gaze. “You lied when you were asked if you had scried anything about your future.”

  Hannah folded her arms across her chest and looked away. “I don’t have anything else to say about it.”

  Garran took her by the shoulders and gripped them tight enough that she returned her gaze to his. “Tell me what else you saw.”

  Her lips firmed as she tried to jerk out of his hold. “I’ve told everyone what’s relevant to our battle against Ceithlenn. I’ve hidden nothing important.”

  She looked away again and he released her shoulders to clasp her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. “Do not lie to me.”

  Fire sparked in her gaze. She wrapped her fingers around his wrists and tried to pull his hands from her face. “I don’t owe you anything, Garran. Don’t even think you can tell me what to do.”

  Garran did the only thing he could think of to let her know just how much he cared about her and wanted to be there for her. He held her face in his hands and brought his lips hard to her mouth.

 
; At first she fought him, trying to pull his hands from her face, and kicked one of his shins.

  Then to his surprise, she began kissing him back with such need and ferocity he could sense every emotion roiling inside her. Anger, fear, hurt.

  Why did she feel hurt? The other emotions concerned him, but he did not understand that one.

  Hannah released his wrists and wrapped her arms around his neck like she needed something to hold on to—something to anchor her. He pressed his body against hers as he backed her up against a wall. He moved his hands from her cheeks into her soft hair.

  So much fire. So much beauty.

  The need to keep her safe so that she would never feel hurt again was so strong his skin burned with it.

  Soft moaning sounds rose up from her and she delved her tongue into his mouth then bit his lower lip hard enough that he felt a quick moment of sharp pain. It vanished as she thrust her tongue into his mouth again.

  Garran forced himself back to reality, back to what he needed to find out from her. He tore his mouth from hers and slipped his fingers from her hair until his hands rested on her hips. Her lips were moist as she looked up at him with her lovely brown eyes, and she still had her hands linked behind his neck.

  “What happened, sweet one?” he asked as he studied her.

  Hannah’s throat worked and he thought for a moment she was going to refuse him. “They’re gone.” This time the hurt he had sensed was in her voice, in her eyes. “The Dragons left me. I think—I think I’ve lost my power to scry.”

  20

  The pain inside Hannah’s chest felt as if one of the Dragons had eaten her heart before it abandoned her. Saying the words aloud made her feel naked, stripped bare to her soul.

  She pressed her forehead against Garran’s shirt and held on to him, not wanting to let go. She wanted him to hold her forever so that she didn’t have to face the stark pain of the truth.

  The Dragons had left her. Scrying with her mirror had been her only method of divination since she was an apprentice witch, when her grandmother gave her the tools.