Timeless Vision (8 page)

She wasn’t sure how that detail made her feel. “Can you tell me what you did to,
umm
, reveal the theft?”

“Explanations would do you no good.” He rolled to his feet in one fluid motion.

“I’m not an idiot,” she said, hurrying to stand as well. The room swayed just a little. She recovered quickly as Sterling braced against her leg.

He grinned down at her. “Of course you are not the idiot. You’re a tavern keeper and quite good at it.”

She caught herself before she explained yet another progression of the vernacular. “What now?”

“Now you shall keep to your business and I will take care of mine.” He picked up his leather jacket and broadsword.

He was suddenly damned eager to cut her out of the search. It made her that much more determined to stick close. “You need a translator.” And she needed a chance to become the hero rather than the goat in her family. With every passing hour since she discovered the dagger had been stolen, she felt increasingly hollow, as if she was dissolving from the inside out. She wasn’t about to confess that squishy sense of failure to this brave and strong knight or he’d find a way to leave her behind for good.

“I understand the language.”

“You only think you do. We’ll catch the thief faster if we stick together.” She could see he wasn’t buying it. “I can help, Wayne.”

“The hound is the only partner I need.”

“Really?” She wanted to drill her finger into that hard chest of his. “You think you’ll be just fine out there without any money, using your magic to blend in whenever you need to?” She snorted. “No way. I have brothers and I know that’s male pride talking, not a valid strategy.”

“It is not pride.”

Tara planted her hands on her hips just to keep them off him. “Whatever’s pushing you is messing with your logic.”

“Goodness.” He rolled his shoulders back, his presence crowding the small space. “I am not here for pride or my glory. I act with honor in all things for the cause of
goodness
and peace.”

Okay
. As a motto, delivered with such earnest conviction, he made it sound like a good one.

“This thief is an instrument of darkness. Of evil,” he continued, staring at her as though he could will her to understand. “Without powerful magic he would not have countered the wards or found the dagger so quickly.” He stepped closer to her, towered over her. “Dominant, dark magic gave him that tool to observe your reactions.”

She shivered. “You can find him.”

“It may take some time, but yes, I will find him.”

Though they hadn’t been acquainted long, she knew he meant to find the person wielding that dark magic, the person who’d learned about the dagger and hired the thief. “Nick and I can help you. We know this city, this time, in ways you don’t. Think of the house and your belongings. Nick obviously has things in place to support your search.”

“And I’m grateful,” Wayne said. He scooped his hair back from his face, his jaw set. “The advances here may be of little help. I am likely searching for a force not of this time.”

That was a sobering thought. She would be as uncomfortable in King Arthur’s era as Wayne was here and would like to think she’d accept help graciously. Studying his stoic features, she could tell there was more he wasn’t saying. Having lived and worked with men her whole life, she suspected it had something to do with a woman. “Do you know who is behind this?”

“The magic has familiar markers,” he replied. “That is all I can say for certain.”

Chapter Five

“He is on his way, my lady.” the guard reported.

“Thank you, Darius.” The woman perfected her posture in the chair, her shoulders back and her spine rigid. Her power subdued for this meeting, she toyed with the fragile handle of an elegant antique china cup and resisted the urge to gloat.

For centuries her family worked in shadow and darkness by the weak light of soft candles. They’d toiled in chilly caves and hidden in barren deserts forever pursued by those who called themselves righteous. While their numbers ebbed and flowed over decades and generations, many of them had mastered the spells and skills to steer clear of those determined to contain and destroy their plans.

Now, thanks to her devotion to the cause, they were stronger, smarter, and well-prepared. The world was full of doubters and distractions, all too ready to blame a magical error on aliens or a rogue government agency. Through clever schemes and careful planning they had the stability and security of a fortress. A safe zone she had established. Their numbers were growing once more and those who proved talented had the space and mentors to explore the full scope of their abilities. Soon, with Gawain’s dagger in her possession, nothing would stop them.

She was more than ready to break out of her shell, out of hiding, in a glorious triumph. She and Darius and her closest advisors were as eager as bulls to spring free of the gate and stampede all those foolish enough to stand in their path.

She gazed with respectful affection at the artistic tapestry on the far wall. Many times she spoke to that tapestry, a beautiful depiction of her idol at the peak of her power. Gawain the Gallant had nearly destroyed it before the true vision had been realized in its completion. All her life she’d reveled in the whispers of her uncanny resemblance to the great witch. She’d used the rumors to her advantage as she’d navigated her way to the top of their order. The likeness between her and her idol went deeper than eye color and flowing dark hair, deeper than bone structure, straight to the root of the magic within each of them.

“We will finish this,” she murmured to the tapestry. “Soon I will transform this world. They will all worship your name. They will love you and fear you as they should have done ages ago. They will flock to your altar and honor your power as I do.”

Feeling her magic rising with thoughts of that glorious day, she turned from the tapestry to the table and quieted her mind. She must meet her thief as he would expect to see her, as a gracious leader. A single rumor, ill-timed, could unravel the plans they’d been weaving for centuries.

The sentry rapped at the door and she opened it with a swift thought. A man with a bit too much swagger walked in, Darius in his wake.

When the door was closed behind the men, she invited her thief to sit with her at the table. He impressed her when he waited for her to be seated first.

“You have the item I requested?” she asked, her voice pure kindness.

“Yes, ma’am.” He withdrew a slim, flat roll of black fabric and placed it gently on the table. “Everything went just like you said.” He nudged the roll closer to her. “Take a look.”

She did not take the gift he offered. Already she could sense the age, the heavy magic involved. There was no doubt in her mind but this was the dagger, the capstone for the spell she had in mind. He had not attempted to deliver a forgery or to double cross her. Although it was another point in his favor, she wasn’t yet sure she could afford to spare his life.

The power under that fabric whispered to her, as engaging as a siren song. It required more effort than she expected to keep her eagerness at bay. “You were not seen coming or going?”

“Not once.”

“And you placed that device as I requested, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am, I did. On my way out, just like you said.”

She knew this of course, for she’d been spying on the mortal’s office, eager to catch a glimpse of the O’Malley clan’s collapse. Unfortunately, the impertinent barkeep had discovered the theft almost too quickly. Yet after a brief, fruitless search, nothing more had happened.

Maybe they’d drifted too far from their roots, though it would be such a disappointment if she were cheated of the fight she’d anticipated. Her mind wandered over the best ways to use the vessel if the family were indeed oblivious to the scope of their loss.

Satisfied her every instruction and precaution had been followed, she reached for the dagger. Easing back the edges of the fabric, she admired the dull gleam of the blade on the black field.

In less than a week the ritual would be complete and she would stand - a glittering weapon at the center of a world rendered powerless, all of humanity groveling at her feet.

Reining in her excitement, she touched only the fabric, bringing the dagger closer for a better inspection. Oh, yes, it was the original. She admired the small fortune here on her table. Museums would pay for the honor of displaying it. Private collectors would pay more still to keep it hidden. The rough ruby in the hilt, once removed, cut, and sold, would propel her to the top echelons of wealthy society.

If only such a false status mattered to her.

The things this world prized were as fleeting as snowfall in late spring. She would show people what to value. She alone would teach them that wealth was rooted in power instead of their paltry gold and silver.

“It’s real, right?” The thief cleared his throat. “Pardon me.” He lowered his eyes.

“It is real. You have done well for us all.” She looked beyond her thief to Darius, waiting silently at the door. With a nearly imperceptible nod, she marked her thief for death. Clever and quick, the man had been too close and she’d allowed him to see too much of her inner sanctuary.

She raised a finger, belaying the death order. The man had also been close to the O’Malley woman. “I would like you to stay,” she said to the thief. “I’ll arrange a room, if you’ll agree.”

Darius arched a dark brow, all sorts of questions and speculation in the subtle motion. They both knew she didn’t need to explain herself or her methods to him. “There may be another job for you.”

“With what you paid me, I can take some time.”

“Wonderful.” She smiled warmly, though it was merely illusion. Coming to her feet, she reached out and clasped his hand between hers. With a shift of her finger, she pricked him with one of her rings. As he bled, she soothed the wound, leaving him no knowledge of his more personal donation.

Darius escorted him out of the room, handed him off to another guard and returned to her side. She smiled as they watched the thief’s blood skitter across the dagger’s blade like quicksilver.

“Look, Darius,” she said. “It begins.”

“Which is only more reason to kill him.”

“A new believer is never unwelcome,” she chided gently. “And a man talented enough to add our charms and magical tools to his repertoire could prove quite valuable.”

“You aren’t certain the dagger will be enough.”

She was uncomfortably reminded of how well Darius could read her. “I am certain.” She matched his direct gaze. “Just as I am certain there are other items of power we should control before they are turned against us.”

“Once we rise, no one will dare.”

She smiled, remembering the feel of his hot body moving over hers. They were a study in contrasts, his skin ebony, hers pale as cream. His height and breadth personified strength, while her smaller stature gave an impression of weakness. Their similarities solidified their union and underscored what mattered most. They both craved power of complimenting measures. They were devoted to their cause and determined to see her in her rightful place as the head of not only the order, but the world. More importantly, they’d sworn allegiance to the witch who’d come before them and they would pursue that ultimate goal with no regard to time or cost.

“We could perform the ritual tonight,” Darius said, his dark eyes going bright with power.

She smiled, content in the knowledge that only she was privy to this physical manifestation of the talents he kept hidden. “We’ve waited a long time and rushing now would be -”

“My -”

“Hush!” She placed a finger to her lips, signaling silence. “Someone seeks us,” she said for his ears alone.

He scowled, his gaze following hers to the dagger’s hilt. The ruby glowed weakly, then winked out. She relaxed for a moment, then realized the full force of what it meant.

Someone was scrying for the dagger through the small lens her thief had left behind. How interesting. “Hurry!” She crossed the room to the side table, peering into the silver bowl she’d dedicated to watching the O’Malley office, and let the quietly probing magic come nearer.

This was no stroke of luck, no hack who’d stumbled on a curiosity, she realized. Strong and cunning, whoever was unraveling her spell so swiftly needed a lesson in the limits of power. And her intolerance.

“My, my.” She hadn’t met a magic with such intriguing roots before. This was an old power. “Come along,” she urged, holding back her retaliation, wanting to put a face with the mystical energy signature. “Reveal yourself to me.”

The power aimed at her shifted, slithering much as the thief’s blood had done on the blade of the dagger, turning more aggressive. No longer following a nearly invisible trail, now the magician on the other end sought to burn her connection.

“Not so fast,” she whispered in a low hiss.

She sought out the images before she gently prodded the opposing force. When the magician hesitated she leaped into the gap, pumping power through the lens. She could not see clearly, not even in that cramped room. She swore at the vague shadows of two people. One must be the O’Malley girl. Who was the other? What did they think they knew?

She gave her dark gift free rein, overloading the lens with searing heat, teaching them a lesson. The water in the bowl trembled with her power and she knew they felt it on the other end. Then the connection was abruptly severed and she gazed powerlessly into a cracked scrying bowl as water dripped to the floor.

“What did you see?” Darius asked.

“Shadows. Nothing specific.” And she should have. She’d felt the hesitation, her spell should have given her a clear view of her opposition. “The room was somehow veiled from me in the last moments.”

Darius’ silence revealed the depth of his concern. Oh, he’d never utter any judgment or blame, he was too smart for that, but neither of them knew anyone powerful enough to match her as this new magician had done. Her temper flared and her fingers shook with the strain of holding back an outright tantrum.