Read Under Witch Curse (Moon Shadow Series) Online
Authors: Maria Schneider
Tags: #werewolf, #shape shifters, #magic, #weres, #witches, #urban fantasy, #warlock, #moon shadow series
Under Witch Curse (Moon Shadow Series) (32 page)
“A turtle from heliotrope would be the right color.”
“No, turtles are for a long life.”
“Maybe an owl?”
“It’s a little late to warn him of impending doom.”
“Then a medicine bear was definitely out.”
I giggled. “Probably. You know that tune that Tracy hums all the time?”
“He hums?”
“Haven’t you heard him when he works?”
White Feather watched the round stones that were roving eyeballs resting on the tops of the tents. “No. But the breeze is always peaceful around him.”
“Hmm. Well, I’ll sing the tune anyway.” I brushed out a little pocked indentation in the rock near Martin’s resting place and buried the fetish. I mounded it with regular pebbles, blending it with the surrounding sand. While I worked, I hummed, keeping it low. Tracy’s sound was more of a vibration, lower than a real voice. It was music, but not really a vocal chord.
I grounded and waited, but Martin didn’t appear.
White Feather roamed about while I was fooling around, but there was still something missing. If White Feather hadn’t heard the tune, then Tracy wasn’t singing it. But if he wasn’t singing it, how did I hear it?
“Maybe Mother Earth is singing to him.” No, it came from Tracy. I sighed and plucked the heliotrope from my pack. There wasn’t any wind left in it, but White Feather could fix that. Before I waved him over, I squeezed the heliotrope and said, “We think we closed off the holes that let the demon spit through. Not before a ghoul formed, but we either shoved it back through or killed it.”
I searched the rocks around me, but none of the shadows moved or spoke.
“Mat and I are searching for your truck. We want to make use of your stones, if you don’t mind. We know a guy who could use your truck, too. His name is Tracy. You’d like him. He’s a bit like you.”
White Feather must have sensed I was almost done because he was suddenly there, his hands on my shoulders. I held the heliotrope up to him.
“You want me to load it with helium again?”
“I guess so.” His wind swirled across my hand and arm, pushing at the stone. Instead of toppling off my palm, the heliotrope absorbed it. I linked to earth automatically.
He felt my hold and fed more wind into the stone. “I wonder how much it can take?”
His voice was a silky whisper as smooth as the breeze across my hand. His eyes met mine, and he didn’t bother to hide the flash of humor and challenge. He wanted to know how much I could take—how much I could control.
Which was stronger, wind or earth? We had combined them, but we hadn’t explored all the boundaries.
White Feather sent a caress along my arms, all electricity.
The stone was smooth, hard and flowing with a breeze. The scent was all White Feather, a mix of forest, shaving cream, and man.
Oh yeah, he knew what he was doing. My skin tingled, and it wasn’t the breeze.
How to reach it? How to
use
it?
The heliotrope had a heartbeat, much as any part of Mother Earth. Silver was an electrical current for me, a conduit straight to the heart of her, through me, through the air, through anything. The gold on my finger responded much the same way, reaching into the earth and building static that was pure energy.
The heliotrope wanted to absorb, not conduct. The flecks of red jasper seemed larger as though swelling. To use the wind, I needed it to flow.
I squeezed the stone using my left hand, the one with my wedding ring. The gold was already grounded. I knew how to push against earth. This was a case of letting the wind flow through and push against the link.
I shot up so fast, I might have catapulted myself over the side of the cliff had White Feather not caught me in a protective swirl. He spun me gently sideways, his arms spread to funnel the breeze where he wanted it.
I held the stone out and grabbed the wind into it.
His eyes widened at the audacity of stealing the wind magic.
I laughed, but without his steady support, I fell sideways, barely balancing it out with a flash of silver meeting Mother Earth in a pulse. All I really did was release the breeze and use the link to silver to slow myself down.
“This wind thing is not easy to control!”
White Feather didn’t have the same problem. He pulled at the wind stored inside the stone.
“Mine,” I said, curling my fingers around the stone, holding the energy back.
I wasn’t stronger than him in any sense, but he let me play, his eyes laughing at me. “No, I’m pretty sure you are mine.” He focused on the stone and helped his intent with a gust from behind me.
“No fair!” He could create as much of a breeze as he needed, while I was swimming against currents I could barely control.
Closer to him now, I was also close to his silver ring. There was a buffer of air between us, something that wasn’t mine to manipulate, but with the heliotrope between us and silver...I pushed earth against the wind.
It lifted me another foot off the mountain, but I went nowhere. A light breeze touched my lips and danced across the back of my neck, an area that was particularly sensitive. A burst of air tilted me towards him.
“I like this. You’re at my mercy,” he teased.
I could tamp the stone down. Closing the conduit to earth was as natural as closing my fist and not letting the air out.
I shot sideways for no reason that I understood. “Eeep!”
White Feather laughed, the sound echoing across the tents. “You can’t just draw wind, you have to direct it where you need it.” Again, his caress kept me from bouncing off the nearest rock. He set me down slowly, carefully. I was back where I started. When my boots hit the earth, a chunk of rock broke free from over the spot where I had buried Martin’s fetish. I picked it up, turned it over and saw a fossilized shell.
“Martin?” The pebbles I had placed were intact, but the top stone wobbled. I picked it up too. Another fossilized shell, this one tiny.
From over by the edge of the ridge White Feather shouted, “Afraid to try again?”
The sound of his voice ricocheted across the tents, but either my hearing was off or there was an extra word stuck in the backlash. “Concha.”
Shell. The Spanish word for shell was Concha. “Hey! There’s a road called Conchas Trail. Do you want me to look there?”
White Feather wasn’t done teasing me. Or perhaps he didn’t hear me talking to Martin. Perhaps I wasn’t even having a conversation with Martin.
The breeze shifted again and it smelled of White Feather, sand, and magic.
My jacket and shirt suddenly danced up, one side and then the other. I nearly fell over backwards when my shirt stopped drifting and flew up across my face. “Hey!”
He moved fast. Before I could complain of the cold, his hands replaced his wind. His caress was a magic that warmed me from the inside out. He kissed me gently, teasing my lips as he had done with the breeze.
At least this was a magic where I was his equal.
Acknowledgments
Publishing novels has been an interesting road, and I wouldn’t be here without the early support of people like Kevin, Wendie and the dog. Not the snake, but the dog. A special thanks to Dreams for her continued support of all readers—and writers. Dee, Heather, Margaret, Irene, Bo, Janet, Ann, Pat, Tibet, Marlene, Kathe, Sherry (both of you) and the rest of the gang at the Amazon cozy forum—you’ve been bright spots from the very start. Fans like LuvMyKindle, Northern Lights, Burgundy, Marisa and Elisabeth discovered my work and stayed with me for the ride. Thank you for taking the time to get to know me and my work.
A special thanks to April who started as a friend and for some reason, she’s decided not to toss me overboard. I owe her and some other special beta readers for trying to set me straight: Dee, Kathy, Karen Cantwell, Jeff Hepple, and Michelle Scott – thanks. LeAnn, you were spot on with the cover. John Levitt, I can’t believe you were generous enough to take me under your wing. I’m never going to fly like I should, but your timely advice and generosity made a difference in my world.
Big gratitude to my husband because he picks up the slack when the rope is in tangles all over the floor. And no, I don’t know how that knot got there. Ask Junior.
Other Works
Most of my other works are mysteries. The Sedona O’Hala series (
Executive Lunch, Executive Retention, Executive Sick Days
) is a series of contemporary cozy mysteries: Sedona must solve a few crimes while fighting her way up the corporate ladder; mostly she dangles from her fingertips just trying to survive.
Catch an Honest Thief
is a stand alone mystery, combining a stealthy caper in the New Mexico desert with high-tech gadgets. Alexia must try to save her career--and her life.
Dragons of Wendal
, a fantasy adventure, has a touch of romance. Zoe intends to learn magic, but the mages at the university might not be willing to teach her what she needs to know.
Tracking Magic
(Max Killian Investigations),
Sage
, and
Black-Tie Bingo
are all adventure-filled anthologies. You might also enjoy
Year of the Mountain Lion
and
Snitched, Snatched
, two short stories available in ebook form only.
Visit me at:
www.BearMountainBooks.com
.
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