Shadow Magic (11 page)

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Authors: Cheyenne McCray

BOOK: Shadow Magic
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Hannah tried to keep from standing so rigidly as Cassia and Copper greeted her with a hug. She'd never been crazy about how touchy-feely most of the group was. Rhiannon kept her normal distance which was fine by Hannah.
They moved to a long, polished wooden table lined with chairs. Garran sat beside her and Rhiannon was directly across from them with Keir at her side. Hannah set her pack down by her feet.
This tavern was so unlike the pub the D'Danann normally frequented, which had rough wooden tables with benches. Instead of smelling of ale and roasted meats, the air was mostly perfumed with the scents of baked desserts, such as apple pies and cinnamon pastries.
Copper always grimaced when she came into this tavern, thanks to her aversion to apples. A tavern maid they had become quite familiar with over the past week or so delivered tankards of ale. By now the servers knew better than to give Copper the apple ale, so they always brought her something that smelled of grapes.
“Are Silver, Alyssa, Mackenzie, and Sydney still scouting out San Francisco with the D'Danann they took with them?” Hannah asked Cassia after Hannah took a drink of the crisp apple-flavored ale.
The beautiful, ethereal-looking half-Elvin witch folded her hands on the table in front of her tankard. “We'll join them tomorrow.”
Rhiannon cut through the chitchat and looked across the table at Garran. “What's your decision?”
He studied her for a long moment. “We will fight beside your people. You have all the resources the Drow can lend.”
Silence and a collective sigh of relief seemed to travel around the table.
Rhiannon closed her green eyes for a moment before opening them and looking at her father. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
Garran's response was a single nod.
“Now we've got to plan how this is all going to go down.” Copper fiddled with the end of her long braid and thunked her ankle cast on the floor as she shifted in her chair. She frowned. “The Drow can only fight after dark.”
“That is correct.” Garran looked to each person at the table. His silvery-blue hair and bluish-gray skin was a contrast to the hair and skin of those around him, yet Hannah now didn't see him as any different from every other man and woman in the tavern.
Garran continued speaking. “I will go alone to your San Francisco Otherworld and make my assessments. My men will be prepared to fight when the time is appropriate.”
“Jake said the new headquarters is ready.” Copper studied Garran. “Including the room you're going to stay in during the day when the sun is out so that you won't fry to a crisp.”
“My appreciation,” Garran said, yet there was a light to his eyes that intrigued Hannah. As if he were looking forward to this, sunshine or no.
“We're leaving to head back to the city first thing in the morning.” Copper leaned against her husband, Tiernan, and the blond warrior draped his arm around her shoulders. “Thank goodness the D'Danann found their blessed Cauldron of Dagda,” Copper added as she looked from one warrior to the next. “Now we won't have to spend so much time figuring out how to feed these bottomless pits.”
Hannah looked at Garran. “Are Drow as insatiable as D'Danann?”
He gave her a sensual look that made her nipples tighten. “Always.”
Her cheeks heated and she elbowed him. “I meant food.”
Garran chuckled and Copper snickered. “Yeah, it was getting hard to find enough, ah,
food,
to feed all the D'Danann,” Copper said with a grin.
“When all of the witches get together, we'll grab our personal items—clothes and stuff—and take them to HQ,” Copper said. “If you don't mind, we'll use our magic to get
into your house and gather what jeans and T-shirts you have.”
“Jeans and T-shirts.” Hannah sighed. “Guess Stella McCartney and Derek Lam attire won't cut it when it comes to battling Ceithlenn and the Fomorii.” She glanced down at her leathers and couldn't help a quirk of a smile when she looked back at Copper. “But how about something silky from Victoria's to go under them?”
“You've got it.” Copper laughed and then sobered, her easy smile melting into a frown. “We'll use our glamours to make sure no one sees and recognizes us when we get back to the city. According to Jake, martial law is in full effect. Especially since two soldiers were attacked and eaten alive on a street in the city the other night.”
Rhiannon visibly shuddered and her skin paled. “After having visions of Ceithlenn doing exactly that, I have no doubt it was her.”
The thought of what Ceithlenn had done to those soldiers made Hannah's stomach churn and fire heat her body.
“What about the white magic D'Anu witches?” Hannah asked as it occurred to her that she hadn't heard what had happened to the High Priestess and her Coven after the last battle. “Janis Arrowsmith and the others? Even though they were only healing the injured and not fighting, they were seen on national television, too.”
“According to Jake,” Copper said, “all thirteen white witches have been taken into protective custody and put in safe houses until the authorities are assured they're not in any danger.”
“I still can't believe that Sara was Janis's apprentice.” Rhiannon tapped her fingers on the smooth tabletop. “She just doesn't
get
that Sara isn't Sara anymore. Ceithlenn is only using Sara's human shell.”
“I should have severed Ceithlenn's head from her shoulders when I had the opportunity,” Keir growled.
Rhiannon rubbed her husband's arm. “How could you know Janis would throw herself across Ceithlenn-Sara's
body? None of us did.” Rhiannon looked at Garran. “If I'd learned how to control my Shadows better, maybe the goddess would already be back in Underworld.”
“It
was not
your fault.” Copper frowned as she looked from Rhiannon to Keir. “Either of you. So stop blaming yourselves.”
The group was quiet for a moment. Around them floated conversation that Hannah hadn't even noticed until now, coming from other tavern patrons who were talking in a low hum.
Garran broke their group's silence. “Hannah and I will travel back to my realm before we leave for San Francisco.”
Apparently Garran intended to follow through with keeping her as his liaison. For some reason, the idea didn't bother her at all. What was stranger, far more bizarre, was how she was almost looking forward to their journey back to the Dark Elves' realm.
Somewhere along the way aliens had stolen her brain and she had no idea where they'd hidden it.
To Rhiannon, Garran said, “May we speak alone, my daughter?”
She hesitated only a moment then pushed her chair back to stand before Garran escorted her to a small table in the corner.
Hannah turned her gaze to the big rough, scarred warrior, Keir, who was Rhiannon's husband. Hannah had referred to him as a Neanderthal on prior occasions—he was completely barbaric as far as she was concerned.
So it was to her surprise that a thoughtful-looking Keir picked up his tankard and said, “It is time for Rhiannon and her father to heal,” before taking a swallow of his ale.
GARRAN STUDIED RHIANNON AS they sat alone, across from one another in the tavern. Warmth and pride filled his chest as he smiled at his daughter.
Rhiannon looked so relieved, as if the mightiest of weights had been raised from her shoulders. “Thank you again.”
Garran reached across the small table and clasped her hand in his. They both looked down at their joined hands, the tone of his bluish-gray skin so different from her pale flesh. She didn't draw away and their eyes met again.
“Understand this, daughter.” Garran squeezed her fingers lightly. “I would go to the farthest reaches of Otherworld for you.” Despite his words, Rhiannon's expression turned sad, as if disbelieving. He squeezed her fingers tighter. “You must understand, too, that while I would do this for you, I could not involve my people if it did not benefit them. I am their king, and I am also your father. For them I must make decisions that take precedence over my own feelings, desires, needs.”
Rhiannon remained silent, but her gaze still held his. She sounded as if her throat were dry when she spoke. “I get it now, and I'm sorry I judged your actions so harshly.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed and continued, “But being Drow … I'm having a hard time separating what's good and bad.” Her voice grew hoarser as she spoke. “The
Shadows inside me that I inherited from you—they helped me a couple of times, but they've done harm, too. Before I started to control them, they almost killed Keir. How can I believe there isn't some evil inside of them?”
She frowned and tugged her hand. He let it slide from his, feeling a sense of loss, that his flesh and blood did not accept him as he was.
“I am who I am. That will never change.” A deep sigh rose within him and he let it out in a slow exhale. “It is my wish that one day you will embrace your heritage.”
Rhiannon appeared nervous now, as if she might jump and bolt away. “I have to think about it some more. I've only known about you, have only known you, and have only known I'm half Drow for a really short time.” She glanced toward the table of warriors and witches who were talking among themselves before looking back at him. “It's not so easy for me, can
you
understand that? You deal in dark magic and that mark has been left on me.”
“But not black magic, remember that,” Garran said. “The difference is great.”
“Is it?” Rhiannon's chin-length hair swung as she shook her head back and forth. “I just don't know what to believe right now.”
Garran leaned forward, his forearms braced on the table. “You must make your choices. I will love you no matter what those choices might be. Come to me if and when you are ready. I will be waiting, as I waited for your mother all those years ago.”
Rhiannon's eyes grew watery, as if she were fighting back tears. Despite her torn expression, she didn't say anything and simply nodded before slipping out of her chair and going back to her husband and the other witches and warriors.
Garran looked across the tavern, barely noticing what was around him. Rhiannon's rejection dug at his gut like a cold blade.
Perhaps one day she would understand him … Perhaps not.
His only choice now was to be at Rhiannon's side when he was able to, as a father should. Beyond that, it was up to her whether or not she would accept her Drow heritage. And accept him.
HANNAH SAID HER GOODBYES to her Coven sisters and Banshee again before she and Garran made their way back to the Drow realm. She would be seeing them the following day, but somehow it felt like it would be longer, as if they would be worlds away. Truly they would be, once the witches were in San Francisco and Hannah was still with Garran in Otherworld. But it wouldn't be for long.
Hannah adjusted the shoulder strap of her pack. “How did your talk go with Rhiannon?” she asked Garran as they neared the transference stone, the Great Guardian nowhere in sight.
Garran let out a long sigh and took Hannah's hand. She squeezed his fingers, hoping that gave him some comfort. “Rhiannon is my daughter. I wish only for her happiness.”
Hannah looked into the night as they continued walking. Moonlight dripped like silver tears over leaves and grass. “I don't understand why I've come around to understanding and accepting you faster than your own daughter,” she said quietly.
Garran brought her to a stop and took both of her hands, forcing her to look up at him. “You and I share a different bond.” His tone and his gaze were serious, none of the teasing light in his eyes. “Ours is a meeting of souls.”
Hannah shivered and looked away from his intense expression at the same time she tried to step back. Right now she wanted to finish what they'd started before Banshee had interrupted—a kiss that she desired with everything she had. But if she admitted it to herself, she needed more than a kiss. Much, much more.
This craving her body had for him was insane.
When Garran drew her into his embrace and forced her to
look at him again, she didn't stop him. His body was warm and solid against hers as he buried his hand in her hair and cupped the back of her head. His eyes still held hers as he used his other hand to grip one of her ass cheeks and draw her snug against him, pressing his cock hard to her belly.
Hannah's breathing grew heavier, her heart pounding a little faster as he focused on her lips.
Fierce, hard, fast, like the warrior he was, he took possession of her mouth. He clenched his hand in her hair and held her so tightly that the straps crisscrossing his chest hurt as they smashed her breasts.
His taste—so earthy and masculine—drove her senses wild. She braced her palms on his cool metal shoulder plates, and kissed him back with the same passion.
Her senses spun, need spiking so badly she wanted to crawl up his powerful body and wrap her thighs around his hips. And they weren't in the Drow realm. Every bit of the desire she'd had for him on this short journey to and from the D'Danann village proved he had never used magic to make her want him.
Not that she doubted his word. If nothing else, she sensed he was a good man, an honest man.
With a low groan, Garran abruptly stopped the kiss. Her lips felt swollen and she wasn't sure she could breathe properly. His eyes were the same color as the moonlight as he looked down at her with so much passion that she reached up to kiss him again.
But he surprised her by stepping away and holding her at arm's length. There was no doubt he wanted her. It was in his eyes, the way he looked at her, the roughness of his breathing.
Instead of taking the kiss any further, he reached out and grasped her hand. “Let us go back to my realm,” he said just before everything whirled and they entered the dark void of the transference.
The void swallowed her scream before they abruptly appeared in the meadow. She stumbled into Garran again, almost dropping her pack.
He held her for a brief moment then disappointment slid through her veins as he drew back, took her hand again, and brought her the few steps to the door to the Drow realm.
She shuddered at the sound of the rock door opening. “We definitely need to find some kind of lube to get rid of that horrid sound,” she said as they started down the stairs. She almost came to a stop after the words left her mouth. What was she thinking? Once they left for San Francisco, she was never coming back.
Silence draped them like a soft, comfortable cloak as they made their way down the stairs, deep into the depths of the Drow realm. They were immediately greeted by Garran's guards. He merely responded with a nod before placing his hand at the base of her spine and guiding her to one of the doors leading from the great hall.
Her heart beat faster as he led her along passageways they'd been through before. Was he taking her to his own chamber?
Warmth traveled through her body all the way to her nipples. Erotic thoughts of her and Garran—naked and in bed together—wended their way through her mind. She met his liquid silver gaze as they walked and she knew he sensed every lustful urge rising up within her.
The line of his jaw tensed and he looked away from her as they continued down a passageway. Cool, crisp air flowed over her, but she felt hot. So, so hot for Garran.
They reached the room she had slept in last night. Instead of leading her into the room, he brought her to a stop in the doorway.
Garran grasped her by her shoulders. In a harsh clash, his mouth met hers and she shivered at the firmness of his body and the leather straps against her breasts.
She gasped into his mouth when his callused hands moved beneath her shirt and roamed her body, up and down her back from her shoulder blades to her waist, stirring more lust within her. She moaned into his mouth with an urgency of her own as his fingers moved up to brush the sides of her
breasts. Thrills shot straight to her belly as his thumbs found her nipples.
The intensity of the passion swirling inside her at that moment nearly took her breath away. Why Garran? She hadn't felt this way around any man, not one, and she'd dated and had sex with a lot of wealthy, gorgeous, successful men.
By the goddess, she wanted more than just a kiss from Garran. Who cared that she barely knew him? She always got what she wanted, and right now she wanted
him.
Garran drew away from her and wild, primal need stirred in his liquid silver eyes.
Her voice was husky as she started to tell him she wanted him to take her to bed. “Garran—”
“Shhh.” He put his fingertips to her mouth, silencing her. “Rest now. We shall leave on the morrow.”
Hannah blinked, too stunned to move as he replaced his fingers with a brush of his lips.
As he released her and backed away, he gave her a devastatingly sexy smile then a roguish wink before turning and striding away from the room.
For a moment, Hannah stared at the place he'd been standing before her temper flared and heat raced over her.
“Bastard.”
She ground her teeth and slammed the door, the hard thunk resounding through the chamber. She dropped her pack as she glared at the door.
Yeah, they'd leave tomorrow. After she killed him.
THE PAIN IN GARRAN'S groin as he strode from Hannah's chamber made it difficult to walk. He had come so close to taking her. Holding himself back had required more effort and restraint than he had thought he possessed.
He would bed Hannah, but not until her trust in him was complete, and there was no doubt in her mind he did not use Drow magic to make her desire him so.
And when he was certain she felt the same soul-bond that he did.
He forced his thoughts to the task at hand. Before he rested, a discussion with Vidar was called for.
When he reached the Great Hall, Garran had one of his guards summon Vidar. Garran waited in his throne room, unable to hold back his frown as he glanced to the throne where the Orb was kept safe and hidden in the secret recesses of the armrest.
Was Vidar ready to receive the training from the Orb of Aithne?
Garran fully faced the throne and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them. No, he would wait. Once he had assessed the situation in the San Francisco Otherworld, he would return and determine if Vidar had served well in his absence. It was truly the best option Garran had at the time to weigh his decisions.
Garran took the steps up the dais to his throne and reclined with one elbow on the chair's armrest as he stroked his chin.
When Vidar entered the chamber, he bowed then stood with a wide stance, his hands behind his back. His expression remained clear and respectful. No insolence, arrogance, or disrespect was in his eyes.
Still, Garran felt something out of place. Off. Yes, when he returned shortly, he would further evaluate Vidar's performance.
“I leave on the morrow with the D'Anu witch.” Garran removed his hand from his chin and placed both forearms on the armrests. “I will take residence with the D'Danann, witches, and human forces who prepare now to again battle Ceithlenn.”
“Yes, my king.” Vidar's tone was calm, even. “Are you certain we cannot send one of our best warriors to accompany you?”
Garran nearly sighed. If it was not for the Great Guardian's declaration that he was not to inform anyone of his gifted power, he would take one of the men with him. As it was, he could ill afford to have a warrior shadowing him as he attempted to carry out his task.
“Perhaps upon my return, after I have determined our best course of action,” Garran finally said.
Vidar maintained a look of calm. “It would be for the best, my lord.”
Garran steeled his own expression. “However, at this moment I must have a word with you about your disrespectfulness for the D'Anu witch, Hannah.”
Annoyance flashed across Vidar's features and a muscle along his jaw twitched. “A woman has no place in the warriors' training chamber. Nor should she be allowed to feast with the Directorate and warriors when council is convened.”

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