Visions of Magic (26 page)

Her hands remained cupped, drawing down the power of the moon, pulling it within herself.

“Mother moon, hear me,” she said in a whisper. “Grant me the knowing. Help me in the Awakening.”

In the next moment, she swayed as if an invisible weight had been dropped on her. Her breath was strangled in her chest and her mind expanded as hundreds of images appeared in her thoughts as if someone had whisked away a concealing curtain.

Shea gasped at the rush of information, trying desperately to make sense of everything she was seeing, feeling. She invoked the moon again, whispering, “Show me. Teach me. Help me find the path.”

Moments ticked past and she was lost in the magic of the moon. Light filled her, streaming through her body, along her arms, to the tips of her fingers. She felt the swell of rising power and gave herself over to it. Her body hummed with heat and life and strength. She felt the innate talents she had carried through centuries stir within her. She experienced the complete joy of knowing that this was what she had been meant for.

Shea smiled with satisfaction as the past came to life in her mind.

“Well, look what we have here.”

Shocked, she came up out of the moon magic as a drowning woman breaching the water's surface. She struggled for air that felt too thick and hot to breathe. Her mind felt muddled with the onslaught of too much information absorbed too quickly. For a moment, she didn't even remember where she was.

Then she saw the man walking across the moonlit meadow toward her and she remembered everything.

“You're a witch, aren't you?” he asked, then answered his own question. “Sure you are, standing out here naked as the day you was born, looking up at the moon. You doing a spell, witch?”

“No,” Shea said softly, realizing that no matter what she had gained with this spell, she'd risked her own safety by coming into the night alone. She should have waited for Torin, she told herself. But it was too late now for regrets.

She faced the man and watched him warily as he approached. About forty, with graying hair and a beer belly, he smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes. In one hand, he held a pistol, barrel pointed at the ground. With the other, he scrubbed at his whiskered jaw as if trying to decide what to do next. He let his gaze move over her with open admiration.

Shea shuddered with revulsion as his eyes washed over her like a mud slide.

“You're a pretty one,” he mused, “I'll give you that. But you're still a witch.” He lifted the gun and casually aimed it at her. “Seems to me, I could shoot you right here and nobody'd think nothing of it. Hell, they'd probably thank me.”

And give him the reward.
But he didn't know she was the witch everyone in the country was searching for. That, she thought, was at least one thing she had going for her.

Should she run? No. He'd only chase her down—or shoot her. Besides, Shea told herself, she'd be damned if she ran again. She was through hiding from what she was. Done apologizing for her existence to a society that was so blinded by its own fear it couldn't see the wonder of magic or the women who wielded it.

She wasn't the witch she had been only two weeks before. She wouldn't ever again allow herself to be captured or used. She wouldn't allow anyone to put their hands on her. Not ever again. Times had changed.
She
had changed. She'd learned far too much to ever go back to what she used to be.

This one man thought he would capture her. Terrorize her. She looked at him and he suddenly seemed small and far less frightening than he had only a moment ago.

He was in for a surprise.

“Yes,” she said, “I am a witch.”

His eyes widened as if he hadn't really expected her to admit it.

Shea snapped her fingers and instantly she was wearing the clothing she had zapped off herself only a short while ago. Maybe it had been a mistake to give this man proof that she was a witch, but damned if she'd stand there naked in front of him, letting him look at her as if she were the last steak at a barbecue.

“Got some power, do you?” he asked, raising the gun higher, taking aim at a spot right between her eyes. “Think that'll be enough?”

Not so very long ago, on that last day at the school when a man had jumped out at her, she had been terrified. She'd reacted instinctively—killing him without even meaning to. This time was different. This time, she wouldn't lose that hard-won sense of control.

He reached out and Shea let him grab hold of her. She needed him close. And the closer he was, the less likely he would be to shoot.

The power she felt beneath the moon washed over her in a lush, clean sweep of amazing magic. Through her fear, Shea felt her own strength rising.

“Not gonna fight me, huh?” He grinned as if he'd just been given a present. “Good for you.”

She smiled, reached up and laid two fingers against his forehead. He dropped like a stone and was snoring before he hit the ground.

“Yes,” Shea said softly. “Good for me.”

T
he moment Torin stepped into the motel room, he knew something was wrong.

Gaze narrowed, he swept the small room thoroughly with one quick glance. Shea wasn't there. He opened his senses to her, instantly dropped the bags of food he'd brought and flashed to her side in the middle of a moonlit meadow.

“God!” She slapped one hand to her chest and staggered backward. “You scared the
crap
out of me!”

He grabbed her and held her close, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her tight to his chest until the steady beat of her heart calmed the fury churning inside him.

“How do you think I felt when I returned to the room and you were gone?” If he had had a beating heart, it would have stopped the moment he realized she wasn't where she was supposed to be. Now that they had mated, the protective instincts he felt for her were more all-encompassing than ever before.

“I told you not to leave the room—” He stopped, looked down at the snoring man at her feet. “Who is that?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. He came up out of nowhere while I was drawing down the moon.”

Torin gaped at her. “He
saw
you working a spell?”

“Yes.”

“Woman, do you have no idea of the dangerous cloud we exist under?”

She pushed away from his grasp, folded her arms over her chest and said, “I know exactly what danger we're in. Just as I know that unless I remember what we need to know, we're not going to be able to complete this quest, or mission or whatever the hell it is.”

“And you thought to regain that memory in public? Where anyone could see you?”
While he was gone?
When he thought of everything that might have happened to her without him at her side, it chilled him to the bone. “Do you trust me so little that you couldn't wait until I returned? So that I could be with you? To guard you?”

“If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be with you.” She blew out a breath and shook her head. “This wasn't about
you,
Torin. I felt the call of the moon and I went with it. I knew what I was doing. I knew the risks. I'm not some stupid heroine in a bad horror movie.”

He pushed one hand through his long hair. “You took the same kind of chance those women invariably do.”

“No, I didn't,” she argued. “I'm not helpless. I can take care of myself.” She pointed at the man curled up in the grass, sound asleep. “There's my proof.”

Hating to admit she had a point, Torin was forced to acknowledge, at least privately, that she had managed to protect herself. Then he noticed the gun lying beside the sleeping man. “Did he threaten you?”

“Of course he did, but I handled it,” she said, lifting her chin in a show of defiance.

So she had. A mixture of pride and impatience battled inside him. She was coming into her own, but at the same time, he worried that she would become too confident. Take one chance too many. If she had made a mistake and this man had shot her—She wasn't immortal yet. She could still die. And if the Awakening were stopped before it was complete, he would die with her. Soulless. Empty. There would be no eternity together. Not now. Not after finally experiencing a true union with her after so many centuries of solitude.

“You should have told me when our minds connected,” he said.

“You would have stopped me,” she answered.

“Probably.”

“You should be proud of me, not angry,” she said and he detected a slight quaver in her voice in spite of the brave front she was presenting. So the encounter with this nameless attacker had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. But even with her fear, she had maintained control of the situation. She had saved herself.

“I am pleased you are well, Shea. And that you were able to dispatch that human.” He waved one hand at the snoring man in dismissal. “But striding into the unknown alone was a foolish choice.”

She bristled, but better she be furious with him than dead.

“I survived.”

“This time.”

“Torin . . .” She went to him and laid both hands on his forearms. Her touch soothed him instantly. “I know we're in this together. I know you want to protect me. And I can promise I'll be careful. But that's all I can promise. If something needs doing, I'm going to do it. Okay?”

No,
he thought. It wasn't okay with him that she put herself in danger. But he would find a way to protect her in spite of herself. Besides, the deed was done and now he needed to know what they could expect from the man once he woke up.

“I can hear you thinking, you know,” she said softly. “You're not protecting your thoughts.”

“It's just as well,” he snapped. “You should know what it does to me when you're in danger.”

She moved toward him and laid one hand on his broad chest. “I get it, Torin. But you have to know what it does to me to do nothing. To sit on the sidelines and let you take over.”

“I'm not taking over. I'm protecting you.”

“I need to know how to protect myself, too,” she reminded him.

“You wouldn't if you would listen to me,” he grumbled.

Shea actually laughed and he had to smile at the sound of it. She was not going to be caged, he thought. Not by her pursuers. Not by him.

Torin nodded at the man on the ground. “How long will he sleep?”

“I'm not sure. A day. Maybe two.”

A short laugh shot from his throat. He could well imagine the man's consternation when he woke up. He would be confused and muddled and wondering when and how he had lost control of the situation. Torin knew that feeling himself. Trying to control Shea Jameson was an exercise in futility.

“Will he remember you?” he asked quietly, looking at the man and wishing he were awake so Torin could vent some of the banked anger choking him.

She frowned a bit. “Yes. I put him to sleep, but I didn't know how to alter his memories.”

Nodding, he made up his mind. “We will eat and then leave. We can't risk him waking early. When he does rise, he'll no doubt contact the authorities. And if he realizes who you are . . .”

“I know,” she whispered, lifting her face into the wind. “But, Torin, I had to do it.” Her gaze met his, silently asking for understanding. His support. “I had to do what I could to find the answers we need.”

He did understand. He didn't like it one damn bit, but he understood the call of the moon to a witch. Knew that a woman like Shea would never be satisfied for long wandering in the darkness. She had a need to be in charge of her own life—and who was he to try to keep her from it?

“Did you discover what you were searching for, Shea?” he asked, pulling her closer, ignoring the insensible mortal at his feet. “Did you find the truth?”

“Yes,” she said, moving into him, snaking her arms around his middle. “I did. My memories are awake now. At least, most of them are. They're just so jumbled together, I'll need time to sort them out.”

He rested his chin on top of her head and cradled her to him in a gentle embrace. “We still have time, Shea.”

“Not enough,” she whispered. “Not enough.”

 

The local chapter of Ohio Seekers met in the basement of a church.

The big room was mostly used for bingo, but tonight balloons and streamers decorated the paneled walls for the upcoming Father-Daughter Dance. Tables and chairs were scattered around the room and a stereo had been set up in the corner for the DJ. Long buffet tables stood decorated, but empty of the food that would soon be delivered.

The dance wouldn't start for another two hours, so the Seekers had plenty of time for their emergency meeting.

“I call this meeting to order!” The president, Martha Chapman, slapped her gavel against the dessert table for order.

She looked out over the crowd and smiled to herself. They weren't many, but they were proud. And determined. The handful of the righteous who showed up every week for the Seeker meeting were people she could count on. People she'd known most of her life.

Her pastor, the local hairdresser and the best mechanic in Ohio among them. There were a few teenagers who had seen the light and her daughter's pediatrician was attending his first meeting.

“Please, everyone!” she called out, smacking the gavel again. She loved it when they all came to order and turned smiling faces toward her. “The caterers will be arriving in a half hour to set up for tonight's big dance and there are a few things we have to go over before they get here.”

The crowd subsided good-naturedly, eager to get on with the business of the evening.