Concentric Circles (10 page)

She paused in her combing. “Yeah. Kal?”

Locking his eyes with hers, he felt a quick light motion around his heart which sent tingles through his body. He focused on that feeling. Magical wonder. What an awesome feeling and connection. “Humm?”

“How many wizards are there? I mean, do you even know?”

“The census for UK in two thousand registered just over 224,000 of various magical abilities. That was after Malvenue’s reign of terror.”

Sadness enveloped him as he leaned back against the chair. “It’s estimated that Malvenue had about five thousand followers. Quite a few died, many fled to other parts of the world. Syther was one of his minions. Not high up in the ranks, so he wasn’t in the thick of the final battle. Malvenue was responsible for killing seven thousand during the nineties.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Power. Not only political, but also magical. Many were killed to drain their magic. Like a vampire after blood.”

She gasped, her face reflecting horror at that information. “Why does Syther want the bezoar stone? What’s his motivation?” She pulled the comb through her hair, watching its progress in the long locks for a moment.

His fingers itched to touch; however, he stoically refrained, even as he noticed her lower lip turned bright red from nervous gnawing. “Motivation? We believe he wants to bring Malvenue back. We don’t have any spies in Syther’s ranks as we did with Malvenue. The Council rejects the idea that Malvenue can be brought back.” He hesitated. “They don’t understand the idea of a captured soul in the stone. They just think he died on the battlefield. Lack of imagination, I guess.”

“Perhaps. Maybe you should tell me first how Malvenue got into the Bezoar stone?”

“Well,” Meekal said, pulling his eyes from the curve of her lip, he stood to begin pacing again. “I’d rather backtrack first and tell you that in ninety-seven, before the final battle, Malvenue attempted to take the Chalice Well and its Power. I was fifteen.”

Shayla stood, dropped her robe and pulled a blouse over her head. “You keep saying that.” Her voice muffled in the fabric, and then her head popped through the neck opening. “I’m new to all this. What exactly do you mean?”

“Magic is everywhere. Some places have higher concentrations. Glastonbury, including the Chalice Well, White Spring and the Tor are all aligned. Ley lines crisscross. Most people are unaware of their existence or in denial. However, someone with Malvenue’s knowledge and magical powers could utilize the combined magic to the detriment of all humanity.”

She zipped her jeans and buttoned the waistband. “So, that’s why your family has always protected the Well?”

“Aye. It’s a bit strange. I was just a kid, but the memories are so clear it’s like it happened yesterday. Since our family line must continue, it became necessary for me to go into hiding. While I was sequestered, I met some northern wizards who were determined to vanquish Malvenue. They weren’t much older than I was. Seventeen and eighteen to be exact.”

Her eyes grew round with incredulity. “Ugh, that’s really young.”

“Aye.” Meekal paused before the window. “They were awesome. Anyway, one of them, Vince, actually spied within Malvenue’s ranks. He helped us formulate a plan and worked from the inside to crumble Malvenue’s organization.”

“A kid?”

“One of the best. Two others, James and Leith are Elementals. They worked together in the actual vanquish. They’re the ones who sealed Malvenue’s soul in the bezoar stone. James wanted to use the stone because of something that happened in one of his classes. It amused him that an artifact that protects us from poison could be the ultimate protection. It keeps the evil soul from ever coming back if held in trust somewhere that his followers are unable to get to it.”

He stopped at the table and poured himself a mug of spice tea. “That’s where the Chalice Well comes into play again. Malvenue tried to take the Power of the Well and twist its essence to achieve his plan to take over the Council of Magical Clans.” He drank a sip, eyeing her over his mug.

“So the combined magic around Glastonbury can be switched to evil? How would that happen? Doesn’t the Well heal?”

Setting his tea down, he clarified. “The Power of the Well is Good. However, like anything, it has its dichotomy or opposite, if you prefer that term. The Power can sway to the Dark or Evil side if not watched over with caution. Shayla, this conflict isn’t just about my family legacy. Think about it on a deeper level. If Malvenue took the Power, a visitor from here traveling back to a large city like New York or even a smaller city of Oneonta, Alabama, where my dad was from, could carry illness or some other form of destruction with them. Each instance would have spread Malvenue’s wickedness like an insidious poison.”

 “The Chalice Well is that powerful? Wow.”

“Aye. Remember, protection was the reason Black Bryan came here in the first place. In ten sixty-six, it became necessary to have a Guardian. But the Chalice Well has always been here, protected in one form or another because of that very potent reason.”

She looked perplexed for a moment. “Wasn’t ten sixty-six when William the Conqueror invaded England? Did Black Bryan protect the Well from him?”

Mirroring her habit, he bit his lip. “Not exactly, but pivotal times in history require extra precaution.” He began to pace again.

The sudden intrusion of a phone ringing jarred them.

Shayla, watching his pacing, jumped up. Her eyes went to the clock. “Damn.” She crossed the bed, and reached for the speaker button. “Hello?”

“Shayla,” Gail said. “Are you going to join the tour this morning?”

“I’m sorry, Gail. I completely lost track of the time. Go ahead and leave. I’ll catch up to you later.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Shayla answered, tapping her comb on her palm.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Have a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. See you in the morning. Have a good day. Bye.”

“Thanks. You too.” She hung up the phone with a sigh. “I couldn’t exactly tell her, what happened, you know.”

He pulled his eyes away. For the moment, he had to focus on other issues. “Maybe we should go out for breakfast or have Carling bring something up.”

“Carling?”

“The cook here at Tor Sunset.”

“And you know Carling how?” she asked, jesting.

Laughter came up of its own accord and he finished off with a grin. “Her father, fondly known as Ole Man Lunn, used to aggravate the hell outta Harry.” He still shook with humor. “Harry and I played many a prank on him in return.”

“I’ll order something,” Shayla said, laughing. “What do you want?”

“Eggs and sausage would be good.” He relaxed and sat while she ordered breakfast.

* * * * * *

They resumed their conversation after they finished eating. Shayla watched, waiting with anticipation, as he cleared his throat and started.

“When we discovered Malvenue was going to attempt to take the Well, my grandfather, my mum, James and Leith formulated a plan to create wards for the Well and Manor. Vince helped with that. Malvenue marked his minions with a Runic tattoo. We banished the tattoo from the area around the Well and Manor.” Meekal took a deep breath. “When Dragar and his thugs attacked us, that was the ward border. They can’t penetrate the protection or get closer.”

She swallowed her last bite of eggs and pushed her plate away. “Protective wards exist?”

“Aye, they do. The bezoar stone is well within the ward. That’s why Syther wants to take them down. So he can get to it.”

“How can Syther destroy the ward?”

Meekal held her gaze tightly.

She noticed a cool ruthlessness there she had not seen before.

“The blood of the son.”

“The blood of the son!” Shock spiked through her, birthing a new fear. She jumped up. The chair hit the wall with a bang. “You’re the son.”

“Yes.” In her mind, Meekal’s stance radiated strength. “Admittedly, it has taken Syther a while to figure it out. That’s why they were there last night. They want me.”

Shayla decided it was time to reap the benefits of pacing. She used to bite her fingernails when stressed, not anymore. “Kal. Damn it. How could they do this to you?”

The nonchalant shrug irked her even further.

“It’s because at the time, I went into hiding. There was no way Malvenue would’ve found me. It’s a double edged blade. If I’m safe, then the Chalice Well is safe. Trust me; he didn’t have a clue where I was. Afterward, we never changed the ward.”

A growl of exasperation escaped. Her pacing picked up speed, her breathing matching. She muttered, frowning and she had a personal argument with herself. “Can’t you change the protection ward now?”

“Shay, I don’t want it changed.”

She stopped, feet frozen to the floor, heart pounding as though it would burst forth from her chest. “That’s crazy!” she roared, shaking from the depth of anger and fear consuming her.

Meekal stood and tried to pull her close.

“No. Damn it, Kal!” The stinging of tears burned her, sending the vision of him into a wavering blur. She turned away, trying to hide her emotions. The window of her suite let in the bright morning sun; its beauty shimmered over the landscape enhancing the fall colors. From somewhere deep inside, she sobbed.

Strong arms wrapped her into a cocoon. His chin placed against her hair, he whispered, “They won’t get me. I can do things they don’t know about. Even if it’s as simple as shape shifting. Very few know about my cat form.”

She ran her hand across the wetness on her cheek, smearing moisture, spreading an insistent blanket of worry. “That doesn’t help.” She turned and hid her face in his neck. Inhaling his cool masculine scent, she whispered, “Too fast.”

He combed fingers through her hair, petting in gentleness. “Sometimes, that’s just the way it happens.” He nudged her, seeking her lips.

Not appeased, Shayla pulled away and turned back to the window. She brushed the lace curtains to the side, the texture delicate against her skin. “What are you going to do?”

Meekal’s hands rested on her shoulders. “Mum’s already contacted Grandfather, James and Leith. They’ll probably arrive tomorrow. They’re in France right now. Mum said Vince hasn’t had any contact with the other Cimmerian since Malvenue’s downfall.”

“Cimmeria what?”

“Cimmerian is what Malvenue called his minions. It just means dark and gloomy. As to Vince, we keep in contact. He married and lives in Shepton Mallet. Shay, come on, love, don’t worry.”

She glared and reached for her small knapsack. The brass curvature of the doorknob did not have the power to stay her feet. The memory and trepidation of her previous experience with clicking doors and unexpected journeys propelled her forward. She bolted from the room. Drowning in panic, her brain twisted into contortions never before experienced.

“Shayla!”

The interior of the Tor Sunset Inn flashed past her. She ran out the door and down the broad staircase. In the lower foyer, she bumped into Carling. “Scuse me,” she said in a fog of anger without stopping.

“Shayla, are you all right?”

She did not respond because she was already through the door. Out on the front veranda, she paused to look around. Huffing in an attempt to expel some pent up fury, she started down the stairs.

“Hey, watch where you’re going.”

“Bugger off,” she said, heart pounding in her chest. Tears escaped her eyes. The wetness on her cheek only intensified the urge to shed more. She had never felt this way about anyone.
Meekal
. The haze of desire’s blissful recollection wafted over her. The memory of the way he felt within her invoked a deep sense of longing.

She passed the door of a bank. The corner of a brick building loomed ahead. She turned.

Damn
. The first face she saw was Dragar.

A wicked grin greeted her while he motioned to someone at the corner.

She spun around to see another man to her right, just three steps back.

His lip moved up into an ugly curl and he advanced closer, eyes raking her with scathing eagerness. Anticipation curled his fingers around a weapon, a cross between a wand and screw auger.

Dragar circled, like prey, joined by his thugs.

Rage boiled up within and emotions roiled into a vortex, transforming into an angry scream. Like the flash of a lightning bolt, she attacked. She reached up, grabbed the closest Thyrza by his greasy hair, and then pulled his head down to meet her rising knee.

Wham!

The stunned Thyrza, instantly immobilized, went face down on the concrete.

A whistle pierced the air. “She’s not the one you want,” Meekal taunted.

“The Fae bitch will go down, too.” Dragar said derisively and turned, wand pointed at Meekal.

Silent as a cat, she moved against the other two Thyrza while Meekal distracted Dragar. Pressure point on one man’s neck, and then a heel of her palm to the nose of the other. Both went down.

“Whoa!” Meekal said, staring at her in surprise. 

Her anger not yet appeased, she growled, “Really? I have news for you, berk. Idiots like you make foolish mistakes. Wand.”

The wand lifted through the air. Dragar spun, panting with fervor when it appeared in her upraised hand. “Bloody hell!”

A fast pirouette and she knocked him down with body momentum and a foot. He cried out painfully when her boot made contact with already injured ribs, then he rolled on the ground, moaning.

The memory of the shadowy chamber flashed through her mind. Despite its power, she sneered at him. “Tell Syther, he can’t have Meekal or me. Now, get lost.” She snapped the wand in half and tossed it to him. With a dismissive flick of her hand, she moved her head in the opposite direction.

Clutching the broken wand, Dragar looked around at his three thugs. They were either out cold or groaning in miserable pain.

Meekal grinned, leaning against the corner light post, arms crossed over his broad chest.

Wearing a mask of pain, the wicked Thyrza reached for the closest thug and vanished within a puff of black smoke. The other two, making sounds of misery in unison, followed.