Smoke on the Water (35 page)

“Only the worst of it now,” Raye warned. “Or you won't have the energy to shift back.”

“But—” Willow began.

“I'm okay,” Sebastian said.

“You are so far from okay it isn't even funny.”

“I never said it was funny.”

Willow yanked up his shirt. Her indrawn breath told him that he was right about the ribs. They must be bruised pretty badly. He decided not to look.

Becca licked him right where it hurt, and suddenly it didn't anymore.

“Thank you,” he said.

She flopped down next to him. Her fur tickled his skin. Her warmth felt really good. With the steady hum of the tires on the highway like a lullaby, Sebastian drifted off.

He awoke when the Suburban stopped. They were back at the cabin.

The wolves jumped out the instant the cargo door went up. Pru shot into the forest. The other two did not. For an instant Sebastian wondered why Elise and Becca hadn't changed back, then he remembered they'd have naked issues.

“Everyone get some rest,” Raye said. “Morning powwow.” She flicked a glance at Willow. “Maybe we'll know something new by then.”

“What we knew before wasn't good enough.” Willow scooted to the edge of the SUV and hopped off. “Why have a vision if it isn't going to work?”

It was a good question. One that no one had the answer to since they all trudged into the house. Except for Franklin and Elise, who started for their car.

“Where do you think you're going?” Willow asked.

“Hotel.”

“Not.” Willow pointed at the cabin. “There's an extra room.”

The fed hesitated.

“And a protection spell,” Sebastian added.

“Sold.” Franklin and the white wolf followed the others inside.

“Are you hungry?” Willow asked, and Sebastian shook his head. From the appearance of the empty living area and closed bedroom doors, no one else was hungry either.

Sebastian and Willow went into their room and closed the door. She took one step away, and he couldn't help himself, he pulled her into his arms.

“I told you not to come.” He pressed his aching face against her hair.

“Did you think that would work?”

“I hoped.”

“Would you have left me there?”

“Of course not!”

“There you go.”

She went into the bathroom. Water ran for long enough that he leaned against the dresser and closed his eyes. When he opened them she knelt by the door, sprinkling something from a glass jar in a line right in front of it.

“Rosemary,” she said, when she saw him watching. “Bars the ghosts.”

“Have you done that before?” He certainly hoped so. The idea of his sister—or her father—seeing what had gone on here—

“Of course.” She came to him and pressed a warm washcloth to his lips, chin, nose, and cheek. It felt almost as good as her touch. The pain and the steadily pinkening washcloth should have turned off his libido. They didn't.

She tossed the cloth onto the dresser, then slid her arms around his waist and held on. “I was so afraid.”

He remembered what she'd looked like as she'd done the spell. She hadn't looked afraid; she'd looked magnificent.

He pressed his lips to her temple. She brushed hers against his throat. He felt her tongue snake out and taste the curve of his neck. His body tightened, and he stepped away. “We need to rest.”

She put her hand against the front of his pants. “This doesn't feel very restful.” Her fingertip traced his length and he leaped. “More restless.”

He should turn away, perhaps run away, lock himself in the bathroom like a frightened virgin. He
was
frightened—of what he felt, what he knew, what he'd seen and what he hadn't. This could end badly. For all of them.

“You're thinking too loudly.” She continued to stroke him. He wasn't strong enough to make her stop. What if they never had another night beyond tonight?

It was that last very loud thought that convinced him. Life was too short and theirs might be even shorter. He couldn't go forward with any kind of strength and courage unless he gave in to his weakness for her.

He buried his fingers in her hair, the soft strands spilling over his wrists, caressing the backs of his arms. He felt her smile when he took her mouth, tasted it too—oranges and snow, cherries and firelight, lemons and a summer rain.

They lost their clothes, moved to the bed where he took his time, worshipping every inch of her with his lips and hands and tongue. He rose onto his knees. All she wore was the necklace—a five-pointed star within a circle.

“Isn't that Raye's?”

“It belonged to an earth witch. We needed the four elemental items.” She frowned, thinking too hard.

“Okay.” He brushed his nail across it and got a shock, which made her frown harder. He started to take the necklace off and she shook her head.

“I think I need to keep it on.”

“Why?”

“I'm not sure.”

A week ago, he would have questioned that kind of talk as obsessive or compulsive or delusional. But now he knew better. He left the pentacle right where it was and lay at her side. He brushed at the frown lines on her brow with his thumb. When they didn't go away, he used his mouth until they did. Then he used his mouth everywhere else.

When she was gasping his name, grasping his arms, begging, bucking, he slid home.

She
was home, and she always would be.

Electricity seemed to spark along his skin, causing every hair on his body to lift. Her hair stirred in an invisible wind. It wrapped around his neck, pulled him closer. When he kissed her, every vision she'd had of them through the years spilled into his mind. Her. Him. Them. Us. We. He felt her fall in love with him. More importantly he felt himself fall in love with her.

At first he thought her soft gasp was completion, then he saw the wonder in her eyes. She felt it too, the connection between them that went deeper than any he'd ever had before, or ever would have again.

“I love you,” they said as one.

Her body contracted; he came in a rush that dizzied him. He kissed her, drinking her cries, tasting the joy.

Outside, rain began to fall. Gently. Peacefully. No thunder. No lightning. No wind.

When it was over, he held her close and listened to the patter of the drops against the window. He had a nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something, but what? Everything he'd needed was in her.

“You're thinking too loudly again.” She stroked his stomach. “Go to sleep.”

Her voice, her touch, her love, soothed him. When his parents had died, he'd lost a home. When his sister did, he'd lost faith in himself. He'd given up any hope of family. Now he'd found all three in her.

“I'll do anything to keep you safe.”

“Me too.”

In the depths of the night, something woke him. Willow lay in his arms. He tightened them, and she whispered his name. He tried to open his eyes but they were sore, swollen, and he could only crack one a bit.

The room seemed to glow—not silver with moonlight, how could it? The rain still fell—but golden and warm, like the sun. It was nice.

He turned his face toward that warmth, that glow.

Toward her.

*   *   *

The pentacle was glowing—throbbing, humming, heating. The energy I'd felt from the chalice now flowed from it too. I had no idea what had happened while we slept, but the object had changed somehow. I needed to tell my sisters.

I slid from Sebastian's arms. Then stood at the side of the bed just looking at him. His poor face. I never wanted him near Roland McHugh again.

I put on my clothes and brought my chalice with me into the living room. I could see every nook and cranny clearly since the pentacle was still throwing off light like a beacon. No Pru. I wondered if she was searching the forest for a trace of Roland, or just out being a wolf.

Two bedroom doors opened, and my sisters came out. Becca had feet and hands again. She'd need them.

Their eyes widened at the sight of the glowing pentacle. They hurriedly shut the doors behind them and joined me.

“What did you do?” Raye whispered.

“No idea. The light woke me up.”

“The hum woke me up.” Raye glanced at Becca. “You too?”

She nodded.

“It never did this when you wore it?” I asked.

“Never.”

“I think it's ready,” I said.

“For what?”

“The spell. When I lifted the chalice at the factory, the energy made my hand vibrate.”

“Mine too,” Becca said.

“Mine three,” Raye agreed. “What about the pentacle?”

“There was nothing then. We need to do the spell again now.”

“Now?” Raye repeated.

“What if the thing stops glowing? I have no idea why it started.”

“She has a point.” Becca picked up her athame from the kitchen table.

“Let's get 'er done.” Raye wrapped her fingers around her wand, which sat on the counter.

They'd learned that they couldn't put the objects too closely together or they vibrated so much it seemed like an earthquake was imminent.

“Just the three of us,” I said.

“The guys aren't going to like it.”

I thought of Sebastian's battered face and broken ribs. “I can't put him in danger again.”

Becca and Raye exchanged glances, nodded. I could tell by their expressions they didn't want the men they loved anywhere near demon Roland again either.

“What about Henry?” Raye asked.

“Is he here?”

She shook her head. “Probably with Pru.”

“He might be handy to have along.”

“Henry?” Raye said just above a whisper, then waited. She repeated his name and the waiting, then shook her head. “I could summon him, but it'll take time, and he doesn't like it. If he can come when I call his name, he will. If he doesn't, he's busy with ghostly, witchy things.”

“He'll be able to find you, right?”

“Right. But how are we going to find Roland?”

“Think of him,” I said. “His face, his voice.”

“His smell,” Raye muttered.

“Touch me,” I ordered, and they did.

 

Chapter 25

Sebastian came awake with a gasp, his heart thundering.

A wolf was howling. From the volume, it was howling in the yard. Pru? Becca? Elise? It didn't matter. The way she was howling, something wasn't right.

“Willow?” he called. She didn't answer. The watery gray light filling the room signaled that dawn had recently arrived.

He tugged on his pants, headed for the closed door, sticking his head into the bathroom just to make sure the place was as empty as it felt. It was.

He reached the living room at the same time Bobby did. Owen was already at the front door. The instant he opened it, Pru shot inside. Her eyes were wide and wild. She ran from room to room.

Franklin and Elise came out of theirs.

“What's wrong?” Franklin asked.

“She's looking for something,” Owen said.

“Someone,” Elise corrected. “Where are the girls?”

“Not here.” Bobby scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Are all the cars outside?”

“Yes,” Owen answered. “But they don't need a car. All they need is Willow and the moon. Although the way their powers have been increasing they might not even need the moon anymore.”

“They wouldn't,” Sebastian murmured. “Would they?”

“The elemental items are gone.” Elise pointed to the places where they'd been. “I'd say they would, have, did.”

“Why?” Now Bobby yanked at his hair; Sebastian understood the sentiment. “The spell didn't work. They'll get kicked into next week.”

“Calm down,” Elise ordered. “They must have figured out what went wrong and decided to end this before anyone else got hurt.”

“No one's gotten hurt,” Sebastian said.

“Have you seen your face?” Owen asked.

Considering how it ached, he probably didn't want to.

“We have to find them.” Sebastian picked up his shoes. “The guy's a demon, with minions.”

“Never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth,” Bobby said. “But he is and we do. How?”

Pru yipped. The wolf stared at the empty corner, head tilted.

“Henry,” Bobby said. “He'll know where Raye is.”

“That's swell.” Owen tried to yank on his hair but he didn't have enough of it to grab. “What good will that do us? We can't see Henry or understand Pru.”

Pru spun and raced for the still-open door. Owen kicked it shut and she nearly ate wood. The great black wolf turned her emerald-green eyes on him and snarled.

“I'm not letting you out until you agree that we follow you in the Suburban.”

The door started to open on its own. Owen set his big hand on it and held it shut. “Knock that off, Henry. Time's a-wastin'.”

Pru dipped her head.

Everyone with two legs got in the SUV.

*   *   *

One minute we were at the cabin—warm and safe. The next we stood on the edge of a cliff staring down at a body of water big enough to be an ocean.

Lake Superior. We hadn't gone far.

The moon hovered on the horizon, spreading silver across the roiling waves. Soon it would disappear and the golden rays of the sun would burst free.

“This is where I died,” Becca said.

She looked a little pale. I didn't blame her.

“Also where you came back to life.” Raye moved to a low, flat rock nearly obscured by long, dry grass. “We can use this as the altar.”

“It
is
an altar.” Becca inched back. “I was sacrificed on it.”

“And now we'll use it to end the one who had that really, really bad idea.” Raye met Becca's eyes. “Okay?”