Seduced by Magic Page 2

  Refocusing her attention, she let the earth-brown robe slide down her shoulders and arms to land around her feet in a satiny mass, leaving her bare body to be buffeted by the wind. Sand trickled between her toes as she widened her stance to shoulder-width apart, leaving her bare sex to be stroked by the night breeze just as that same rush of air hardened her nipples. Her shoulder-length hair teased the nape of her neck and she shivered from the combined sensations.

  Copper raised her wand to start casting her circle when a sensation of dark power trailed down her spine; Zeph grew frantic, his wings buzzing. The scent of wolfsbane was strong this time, so very strong.

  A presence behind her.

  Someone . . . someone watching her.

  Zephyr gave a buzz of warning. Copper gripped her wand tighter. Should she quickly attempt to cast the circle to keep evil away from her, or should she face whatever was behind her?

  She was certain she didn’t have time to close the circle. She whirled and raised her wand so that its light might blind whatever being had crept up on her, and to use the wand’s magic if need be.

  Copper’s pulse began racing. Perhaps ten feet away from her stood a man. A breathtakingly handsome man with eyes as black as his hair, high cheekbones, and a cleft in his square chin.

  Around his neck, on a thick chain, hung a stone eye that glittered in Copper’s wand light and glowed a deep red. The sight of it caused her stomach to churn before the red faded away.

  What captured her attention the most was the controlled power emanating from the man. A power so intense and dark that Copper nearly recoiled. But she stood her ground. With a tilt of her chin, she narrowed her eyes and faced what she was certain to be a ruthless, incredibly powerful warlock.

  “Leave,” Copper said, shoring up her magic at the same time. “This place is sacred. You don’t belong here.”

  The warlock smiled, a smile as sensual as it was sinister. “Finally . . . a witch worthy of my time and my training.” He paused and brought his hand to the stone at his neck, the red glow returning and bleeding through his fingers. He gave a slow nod, as if in response to some communication from the eye. “Yes. There is another—you have a sister whose power is as great as yours, and she rides the line of gray magic just as you do. Only she is more . . . vulnerable.”

  At the mention of her sister, a chill went through Copper and she straightened her spine. “Who are you?” She tried to ignore the bite of the wind as she stared the warlock down. This was the evil she had dream-visioned about. This was what . . . no, who she was to battle to save everything she loved.

  She had to be rid of him before he destroyed what was good and pure. But how?

  Zephyr gave an angry buzz and she sensed his desire to sting the man in front of her. “No,” she murmured. “Stay.”

  The man raised his hand and beckoned to her. She felt the power of his touch on her naked body. It was as if his bare hand were stroking her, touching every intimate part of her. He took a step forward. “I am Darkwolf.”

  “Well, Darkwolf,” she said as the glow intensified from the pointed end of her wand tip. “Stop right there or I’ll make you wish you’d stayed in the sewer you crawled out of.”

  “I think not.” He moved closer and raised his hand so that his palm faced her.

  She was certain she knew exactly what the goddess wanted her to do to keep them all safe. In a rush, Copper chanted.

  Goddess give me power this night

  Send the moon’s strength to help me fight.

  Ancestors bless this wand and make it a sword

  To send this evil to Otherworld!

  Light blazed from Copper’s wand, so bright that it blinded even her. Power flooded her, power of the Ancestors, the goddess. But she needed more—the gray magic she held always at the ready.

  She poured her gray magic into the spell with all that she had.

  In the next moment something shimmered before her. Something alien. Something that couldn’t have been just from the warlock.

  From the eye?

  Her spell struck the magical shield that was so strong her witchcraft rebounded. The spell shot straight back at her. Before she had time to form a spellshield, her own magic slammed into her and flung her high, into the air . . .

  She was falling . . . falling . . . falling . . .

  Into sunlight. Into the breath of spring.

  She landed facedown, her bare skin upon the softest grass she had ever felt. The rich scent of it and dark loam filled her senses, along with the perfume of rose petals. Vaguely she heard the sound of Zephyr buzzing and the faintest music . . . Faerie song.

  She tried to raise her head, but the Faerie music grew ever fainter. Light faded. Darkness came and swept her away on swift wings.

  Two

  San Francisco

  The present, fifteen months after Copper’s disappearance

  Tiernan, a Tuatha D’Danann warrior and Lord of the House of Cathal in Otherworld, narrowed his gaze at the two human witches in Silver Ashcroft’s apartment. He raked his fingers through his blond hair as both Silver and Rhiannon focused intently on fog now wafting from the pewter cauldron like smoke from a campfire.

  Hawk shifted beside Tiernan and he sensed the man’s unease. Hawk was also a D’Danann Enforcer who hailed from Otherworld. But Tiernan was nobility. Hawk was not.

  The D’Danann were powerful winged Fae warriors, once ancient gods who had resided in Ireland before leaving to form their own Sidhe in Otherworld. The D’Danann were a neutral race of Fae who only answered calls of distress from Otherworlds if they believed it to be within the natural order. Fortunately for the city of San Francisco, the Chieftains had allowed the D’Danann Enforcers to travel to this place and assist the D’Anu witches in battling the Fomorii demons and the Balorite warlocks.

  Just before Samhain, Silver Ashcroft had used a moon ritual to summon the D’Danann to aid her and all witches against the threat of the demons and the warlocks. Perhaps the Chieftains agreed to aid the witches in part because the witches served the goddess Anu, and the D’Danann were her offspring.

  “Oh, my goddess,” Silver whispered, drawing Tiernan’s full attention as the fog began to take shape. Her silvery-blond hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned closer to the cauldron. “It’s the Balorites and the Fomorii. They’re in a chamber—a cavern. Opening a great door.”

  Tiernan unfolded his arms from across his chest and his breathing grew a little more rapid.

  Rhiannon’s face had gone from her normal fair complexion to an even paler shade. The witch, who had chin-length auburn hair and usually a feisty look to her green eyes, was not one to show fear. However, her expression this time made him uneasy, especially when she said, “They’re not—they wouldn’t.”

  Tiernan started to stride forward, to see what the witches were observing, but Hawk held out his arm, blocking Tiernan. He could have forced himself past the warrior’s arm, but he realized the wisdom of Hawk’s action. The witches could not perform their task with interference.

  “Balor.” Silver swallowed, her throat working, as Tiernan watched, his muscles tense. “I see him and his great single eye. I see the Balorites—and other beings—freeing both Balor’s body and his soul.”

  Tiernan’s heart set to pounding despite the fact he normally held little faith in human witch divination.

  Rhiannon braced her hands on the wooden table the cauldron perched on, her knuckles white from clenching her fists. Her face was so close to the fog that it caressed her cheeks.

  Silver recoiled, her palm over her mouth, before she dropped her hand. “How can they? He was exiled far below Otherworld. Beyond Underworld, even.”

  Tiernan could not help the rumble that rose up in his chest at the memory of Balor’s exile centuries ago. From the corner of his eye he saw Hawk give him a disapproving look.

  Rhiannon backed away from the table, but kept her eyes on the fog. “Somehow Darkwolf and the Fomorii will find a way to free Balor—if we
don’t stop them first.” Rhiannon’s gaze swung to Silver then back to the cauldron. “What—what’s that?” She studied the foggy shapes above the cauldron. “No, who is that?”

  Silver’s shoulders began shaking and tears started rolling down her cheeks. “It’s Copper—” Her voice came out in a strained whisper. “She’s stretched out like she’s a sacrifice.”

  “And she’s bleeding,” Rhiannon said, horror written across her face.

  Tiernan’s gut wrenched and he grew cold.

  The fog diminished until nothing was left but a faint spiral and then it was gone, too.

  In mere strides, Hawk had Silver in his arms. She gripped the front of his tunic in her fists and sobbed freely against his chest. “I’ve scried and scried to find Copper since she vanished and have seen nothing. But now, to see her like that? Oh, goddess.”

  Hawk held her tight as she continued to cry.

  Tiernan clenched his jaw and turned to Rhiannon. “Tell me everything you saw.”

  The usually calm and collected witch visibly trembled as she raised her chin to look up at him. “You heard every word. The Balorites and Fomorii are searching for a way to free Balor.”

  He tried to keep his voice steady. “Are you sure this will happen? Or has it already happened?”

  Rhiannon steadied herself by placing one hand on the table beside the cauldron. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before releasing it again. For a moment the witch went still. Her breathing became heavier, her expression twisting to one of pain. Tiernan noticed her eyes were moving rapidly behind her eyelids, as if she were dreaming or watching a scene unfold within her mind.

  Finally she opened her eyes. “My sight tells me it hasn’t happened yet. Other beings are helping to search for the door that will free Balor. I have no idea how soon they will locate it, though.”

  “Copper.” Silver sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her swollen red eyes. “She was there, tied down in some kind of circle, and her eyes were closed. Someone, something was bleeding her.”

  Tiernan glanced to the frames sitting next to Silver’s computer and saw one of the pictures of the laughing redhead. Every time he saw the pictures he found himself intrigued by the missing woman, almost to the point of obsession. For some reason the thought of something happening to her made him beyond furious, heat quickly chasing away the chill that had overcome him.

  “You are certain it was your sister? You are certain your vision is true?” Tiernan asked in a harsh voice.

  Silver’s spine stiffened and her gaze snapped to Tiernan’s. “There is no doubt in my mind.”

  Hawk glared at Tiernan, his jaw tense. “I do not care if you are a lord. You do not speak to my mate in such a manner.”

  Before Tiernan could respond, the door swung open. Alyssa and Sydney stumbled into the room. Both witches were flushed, as if from running.

  “We divined where the Balorites and Fomorii are,” Alyssa said in a rush. “But you need to hurry because they are leaving.”

  Tiernan eased around the corner of what appeared to be an abandoned building, his muscles tense and his jaw clenched. His senses were on full alert and his body prepared to unleash his wings and launch into the air at a moment’s notice. He gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, where it rested beneath his long, black coat.

  It was an unusually warm day for San Francisco, and sweat trickled along the side of his face and down his neck to his chest. He would have preferred the cover of darkness, but if the witches’ scrying was correct the remaining warlocks and Fomorii demons were currently using this building as their base—if they had not yet fled. He was hoping for the former. What he wouldn’t give to kick some demon ass right now. Capturing at least a few warlocks would make his day, too.

  Other than the Elves, the D’Danann warriors were the only beings who could battle and win against the Fomorii. The D’Danann could unfold or hide their large feathered wings at will and had the ability to shield themselves from human or demon sight when searching the skies for signs of whatever beings they looked for. The D’Danann could wrench the head from an enemy and tear his heart out with one strike to the chest.

  The warriors had been summoned to this Otherworld, Earth, by a D’Anu witch just before Samhain. Now, perhaps eight weeks since that time, they were no closer to finding the Fomorii queen or the warlock high priest. They had gone well into hiding, no doubt to regroup after a great many of the Fomorii had been sent back to Underworld on Samhain. Thanks to the D’Anu witches’ divination talents, the D’Danann had come close to finding the Fomorii and warlocks. But for some reason they were always too late, a fact that puzzled the witches. It was thought that perhaps the Balorites had an exceptionally gifted seer who was able to warn the warlocks and Fomorii in time.

  The Balorites were an especially sinister Clan of male and female warlocks who had originally summoned the Fomorii. The Balorites, led by the high priest Darkwolf, had employed the darkest of rituals to bring forth the demons. They had sacrificed the lives of innocents and had used their blood.

  Darkwolf wore a stone eye on a chain about his neck, and it was believed by the D’Danann to be a tool of the ancient god Balor. Somehow Balor was influencing the will of the warlocks to bring forth his minions.

  Fomorii could inhabit another being’s body, killing the host instantly while the demon took over the being’s shell, virtually becoming that person or creature. In their natural state, the demons were of hideous shapes and colors. Some had one eye like the god Balor, while others had many. Their limbs were odd-sized or numerous, as well. They had long needlelike teeth and horrible claws. The Formorii had started tipping their claws in iron, which was deadly to Elves and Fae, including the D’Danann.

  Even though he could not see his comrades just yet, Tiernan knew that Hawk and the other D’Danann Enforcers crept just as quietly around the building, and some of the D’Danann had flown to the rooftop to gain entrance. The witches who had insisted on accompanying them were, surprisingly, as light-footed as the D’Danann.

  When Tiernan passed an open window, a whiff of rotten fish invaded his nose. Yes. The stench of the Fomorii. Only there was not more than a hint of it. No doubt the D’Danann and witches were too late; but he did not let down his guard.

  Tiernan reached the steps leading to the door of the building and Hawk appeared around the corner, across from him.

  “I fear they have left,” Tiernan said in mind-speak to Hawk.

  “Aye.” Hawk gave a sharp nod of agreement, but held his sword at the ready, just as Tiernan did.

  Part of the D’Danann magic was the ability to tread so lightly when they willed it that not even the slightest sound could be heard. Despite their size, their boots, and their muscled bulk, not a single step creaked beneath Tiernan’s and Hawk’s combined weight as they eased their way up the weathered stairs.

  However, they could not control the squeak of the door-knob or the scrape of the rotting door as Tiernan opened it. The peeling paint was rough beneath his palm when he placed it against the wood and pushed it all the way open. At once he smelled dust and decay along with the demon stench.

  They entered a narrow hallway and the smell of Fomorii grew stronger. But not strong enough. As they worked their way through the building, Tiernan and Hawk communicated with their fellow warriors using mind-speak and learned that the other warriors too had found nothing. From what Tiernan could discern, the building was apparently void of any furniture or other objects. It was stripped bare—it probably had been that way before the Fomorii had taken possession of it. The smell of rotten fish and the deep gouges in the floor and on the walls were the only signs the demons had been there.

  Toward the end of their search, Tiernan came upon a scrap of old parchment that was out of place in this modern world. He found it in a cobwebbed corner of one of the rooms. He frowned as he retrieved the tattered paper that felt rough between his fingers. An ink drawing was sketched on its surface—a vertical rectangl
e with a circle beneath it. A smaller ring was within the larger circle, and strange runes were etched in the space between the two circles.

  Hawk came up beside Tiernan and studied the drawing, as well. “I believe either you have found something of import,” Hawk said, “or something meant to lead us astray. Perhaps Silver or one of the other witches can use their knowledge or their divination skills to determine its meaning.”

  Tiernan gently rolled the worn parchment and slipped it into the pocket of his black overcoat that covered his weapons. At one time he hadn’t given much stock in human witches. Not until the D’Anu, with the assistance of the D’Danann, had vanquished a good number of the Fomorii and sent the beasts back to Underworld.

  When they found no other clues, Hawk and Tiernan gave orders to return to their home base.

  Damn the Underworld, the Fomorii were still one step ahead of them.

  Tiernan folded his arms across his chest and focused his gaze intently on the witch Silver Ashcroft. She was standing, slightly bent over her scrying cauldron. The piece of parchment was still in his pocket. He intended to show it to the witches when Silver finished her second scrying attempt. The room carried the scent of Silver’s lily perfume and some kind of citrus smell that she said she used to cover up the musty odor of the old apartment.

  The witch, Hawk, and Tiernan were again in Silver’s apartment within a building in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco. The building was owned by Jake Macgregor, a Special Forces agent who dealt with paranormal crimes. After Silver was banished from the powerful D’Anu Coven she had belonged to, for using gray magic, several of her sister witches left with her to form their own D’Anu Coven. But this Coven was now entirely made up of witches willing to use gray magic.

  Jake had offered a portion of the building he owned to the D’Danann and the D’Anu witches to use as a headquarters while they searched for the rest of the Fomorii demons and Balorite warlocks. Jake had inherited the building from a wealthy uncle and drew a steady rent income from residents, but fortunately he had several available apartments.