Apocalyptic Mojo (8 page)

“Ye need to sleep, m’ lady. Rest now.”

Ardith felt the covers being straightened around her.

“I’ll keep watch over ye.”

Ardith wanted to stay awake. She wanted to learn more about Draigh and his nearly empty castle. But she was just so tired. She sighed, sleep already sliding over her. “I will. You and I will talk some more. After…”

~
A
M
~

When Ardith woke sometime later she felt much better, though her head still hurt and her eyes didn’t want to open. It occurred to her that the hunter might be drugging her. She didn’t really believe it, but lying in his bed, in his rooms, was much too dangerous. She needed to get out of there.

Her eyelids fluttered, tried to open.

Too late. The bed dipped and a deep voice broke the silence.

“I brought you something for the pain.”

Ardith forced her eyes open and barely restrained a cry as agony speared her brain. Though the lighting in the room was subdued given the coming storm, even that muted light hurt her eyes.

Draigh stood beside the bed, his handsome face filled with concern. He wore tight, black-leather jeans that fit his massive thighs like the finest gloves and a white shirt that he hadn’t tucked or buttoned yet. His silvery-blond hair hung thick and wavy around his face, still damp from a recent shower. She bit her lip as her gaze slipped down the thick column of his throat to the firmly rounded pecs showing beneath the shirt.

She had a sudden urge to lick her way across those pecs and down, following the glistening gold trail into the waistband of his jeans.

She sat up, squinting, and took the small cup from the hunter. “What is it?”

“My own special brew. It will take a large part of the ache away.”

It wasn’t until after she’d swallowed the evil green concoction that Ardith realized the hunter could have poisoned her. She’d taken his brew without questioning. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What was wrong with her?

Pushing herself upright, Ardith was unable to keep from grimacing as she tried to climb out of the bed. She felt extremely vulnerable lying there with him hovering over her.

At least that was the reason she told herself she needed to get out of that bed. The clenching of her sexual core at his nearness had nothing to do with it. The increased beat of her heart and the way his incredible scent flowed over her, firing her imagination for the erotic possibilities, were just the result of her weakness.

Nothing more.

She wobbled, almost fell out of the bed, and a big, warm hand grasped her arm to steady her. His touch jolted through her like a bolt of electricity, making her gasp.

Draigh dropped her arm as if it burned. “What is it? Have I harmed you?”

She glared at him. “I don’t like to be manhandled, hunter. Keep your paws to yourself.”

In the blink of an eye, Draigh’s face darkened from concern to anger and he nodded. He leaned close, enveloping her in heat and his pure masculine scent. Ardith’s traitorous body tightened in response, her breath locking in her chest. Her fingers twitched against her palms as she fought the desire to reach out and touch his lightly furred chest. “My pleasure. I was only trying to keep my promise to your damn familiar, witch. I assure you I’d not touch you otherwise.”

Mention of Sirius made her halt. “Sirius communicated with you?” Horror slipped icy fingers down Ardith’s spine.
No. It wasn’t possible
.

The big hunter just shook his head and turned away. “Dress yourself, witch. We have an audience with the elders.”

Ardith watched him stalk away, her heart pounding. She was dazed from all the bad news he’d delivered . First the knowledge that Sirius spoke to him and then the information that they were being dragged before the Huntsman and Lady Penelope to admit their abject failure in finding Edwige.

Just wonderful.

And then the third horror hit her between the eyes. Ardith threw the covers back and lowered her feet to the floor. A cool, damp breeze touched her and she sucked in a horrified breath, looking down.

Naked.

As in…zero clothing.
Draigh
. She surged to her feet, her fists clenched.

Dizziness forced her to grab the bed for support. Straightening a heartbeat later, she reached for her clothing. Her imagination had his hands roaming over her, touching her most private places. She closed her eyes as the thought brought warmth sliding through her, hardening her nipples and tightening the knot of awareness low in her belly.

Ardith was disgusted with herself. That wasn’t exactly the reaction she’d expected at the thought that he’d groped her in her sleep. Yet it seemed the only reaction her body seemed willing to consider.

~
A
M
~

Exiting the portal in Salem, Massachusetts—16
th
world, year 1698—Ardith pulled her long black cloak closer to cover her twenty-first century clothing and did her best to ignore the hunter. For his part, Draigh seemed unconcerned by her determined attempt to ignore him, throwing only the occasional, semi-curious glance in her direction.

They climbed the wide steps of the Salem Social Club and Draigh pulled the heavy wooden door open, allowing her to sweep through ahead of him.

Ardith’s palms were sweating and she wasn’t sure why. She’d been on equally tough cases in the past. She’d even previously been called before Lady Penelope to give an accounting of her actions. But she’d never come before the council with guilty knowledge of having weakened herself to save a member of the authority.

If she hadn’t allowed Sirius to heal Draigh, she might have caught up to Edwige before she got away again. And she might have had the sense to disable the web on that door before it exploded, literally, in her face.

Added to this concern was the fact that she had no idea what the hunter would say when pressed. He could be a ruthless ass, fully capable of throwing her under the proverbial four-wheeled carriage. She didn’t trust him.

The doors to the council chambers swung open as they approached. Blackthorne stood before them, his ebony face perfectly neutral. However, despite the big mage’s ability to give consummate poker face, Ardith saw his gaze swing briefly toward the hunter, speculation running deep in the wide brown eyes. “Welcome, epoch mage.” He inclined his head in Draigh’s direction but didn’t offer a verbal greeting. “The elders await your report.”

Ardith held his gaze, trying to discern the mood beyond the doors. Not a hint of a smile. His gaze was steady and uninformative. It was Blackthorne code. Unfortunately, his stoic expression didn’t bode well. The elders were apparently pissed.

The big man stepped back, allowing them to pass. As Ardith brushed past him he did something he rarely did. He reached out and touched her arm, squeezing it gently.

Horror swamped her. If Blackthorne was offering comfort she was in dire straits.

She blinked up at him, noted the slight incline of his head that she read as encouragement, and took a deep breath as she moved past.

Her gaze slid automatically to Lady Penelope’s throne, finding it empty. Beside her, Draigh stopped suddenly, bending at the waist in a deep bow. “Ladies and gentlemen.”

Ardith’s head whipped around, her eyes widening. The entire council, all thirteen members, was in session. A baker’s dozen of gazes stared at them, cold and judgmental. Just as many pairs of hands lay inert on the glossy table before them. The council was made up of the oldest of the mages, many of whom had been present during the time of strife, as the Salem trials had come to be known.

It was a powerful and terrifying collection of stern faces.

At the center of the long curved table, an extra chair had been pulled up beside Lady Penelope for the Huntsman.

Ardith blinked, amazed at the sight. She nearly forgot to bow. Draigh’s arm bumped her own as a reminder. Ardith bent at the waist, her gaze never leaving the two elders sitting at the center of the table. “My lady.”

Lady Penelope’s dark eyes snapped with temper. Beside her, the Huntsman seemed coldly dispassionate by comparison.

Blackthorne took his place behind Lady Penelope’s left shoulder and inclined his head for the proceedings to start. Without turning, Lady Penelope acknowledged the movement. “Epoch Mage, Ardith and Sorceri Bounty Hunter Draigh, we’ve called you before the council…” she hesitated, glanced toward the Huntsman, “and the authority, for discovery. We wish a reporting of your hunt for the rogue witch Edwige.”

Draigh’s muscles flexed, but before he could move, Ardith stepped forward. “My lady, we have nearly caught the witch several times—”

“Nearly?” Lady Penelope’s fine, black eyebrows lifted with disdain. “Are we proud of near misses now?”

“No, my lady, I—”

“The witch has created an army of zombies and seems able to sway all manner of creatures to her side,” Draigh offered.

Ardith glared at Draigh. He ignored her.

The Huntsman sat forward. “What do you mean by an army, hunter?”

“It appears to be thousands. The mage and I have killed hundreds of them, along with several of the more fierce creatures living in La Cité des Muertas. Each time we appear to have her cornered, but as we work our way through her creatures she always disappears.”

“Then approach her when she does not have an army to distract and slow you.” Lady Penelope didn’t bother to hide her disgust of their mental limitations.

“My lady, all due respect, we went to La Cité des Muertas at the Watcher’s instruction. He scried her in his lava pool. She should not have known we were coming. The witch either has powerful spies or she lives in perpetual readiness.”

Sitting next to Lady Penelope, Lady Fredericks, the second most powerful member of the council, lowered a fierce brown gaze on Ardith. “It appears you are not up to the task you have been assigned, mage.”

Ardith opened her mouth.

“Madam councilwoman, please forgive me for interceding on Ardith mage’s behalf…” Draigh interrupted infuriatingly. “She is easily the strongest mage I’ve had the pleasure of working with. I don’t think a lesser mage would have had half the success she has.”

Ardith stared at him, her mouth falling open in shock.

“Then perhaps the fault is yours.” The oldest council member, whose name escaped Ardith, looked down his bulbous nose at Draigh. The elderly councilman’s thin lips twisted with disgust. “We were told you were a very talented hunter. But you don’t seem to have contributed much to the hunt, son.”

Draigh gave the white-haired mage a slight bow, not defending himself.

Blackthorne cleared his throat and Ardith blinked, realizing she must speak. “I disagree, sir. The hunter Draigh has been an asset in my search. I would like to continue working with him for the remainder of this hunt. Besides,” she added with a glance in said hunter’s direction, “I don’t want to have to train someone else.”

Draigh stiffened, his body expanding with menace. Ardith thought she heard a growl rumbling in his throat. She barely restrained a smile.

The Huntsman and Lady Penelope put their heads together, speaking too softly to be overheard. Ardith stood straight, feeling self-conscious as the remainder of the council fixed her and Draigh with speculative gazes.

The moments ticked by and, with them, the last of Ardith’s ability to retain a cool demeanor. She started to shift her weight from foot to foot, her fingers twitching against her legs.

By contrast, Draigh was like a mountain, enormous and motionless beside her. His heat enveloped her and his scent spun a reluctant spell around her senses.

Ardith wished desperately that she could step away from him, put distance between them, but she knew it would be seen as a guilty motion in the accusing eyes of the council. So she stood tall, her shoulders back, and met their gazes, daring them to think the worst.

“We have decided,” Lady Penelope finally announced.

Ardith’s gaze locked onto Lady Penelope.

“We will allow you and the hunter to continue your search for the time being. But you have only three days with which to find the witch and contain her. If you have not found her by then you will be removed from the hunt and others—hopefully more capable—will take your place.”

Ardith opened her mouth to argue but Lady Penelope slammed her council gavel and said, “That is all.”

Draigh grabbed Ardith’s arm and turned, all but hauling her toward the door. Ardith wrenched free as soon as they cleared the door and rounded on him.

“Save it, Ardith.”

She and Draigh turned at the sound of Blackthorne’s husky whisper. She had been so angry with the hunter she hadn’t even noticed Blackthorne following them out of the chamber.

“Walk with me. There are things you need to know.”

Silence reigned as they left the social club and walked outside, Draigh pulling the heavy door closed behind them. Ardith fell in beside Blackthorne, waiting for him to initiate conversation. His reticence told her he didn’t want to be overheard by the mages inside and around the social club.

Draigh walked beside her, his sexy blue gaze skimming the people fighting for space on the bustling avenue, continually assessing their surroundings.