Would-Be Witch (10 page)

Lennox led us to a third table where there was a woman so tall and slim her chest might have been mistaken for her back. She had smooth sepia skin with a tawny glow like she’d been dipped in caramel.

“How are you, Astrid?” Lennox asked.

“
Muy bien
. And you?”

Lennox nodded and sat next to her. Bryn pulled out my chair, and I sat between him and his father.

“This is Marlee Trask’s daughter,” Lennox said.

“Claro,”
Astrid said briskly. The woman extended a willowy hand with another word of Spanish, but Bryn grabbed my arm and pulled it back before our hands touched.

“She’s untrained,” Bryn said to Astrid, like I was an unhousetrained puppy.

“How interesting for you both,” Astrid said, lowering her hand.

“What was that about?” I whispered to Bryn after Astrid and Lennox started talking.

Bryn leaned toward me, his hand still resting on my arm. “It’s common to push power from the palm during a handshake between witches and wizards, to test each other’s powers.”

“Sort of like dogs sniffing each other?”

He laughed. “Crude but accurate.”

“So what would have happened if I’d shaken her hand?”

“Probably just a mild shock or a burning sensation. Nothing more serious, unless Astrid meant to do you harm.”

“Why would she?”

“Witches suffer from the same emotions as human beings.”

“Meaning?”

“She likes to be the most beautiful woman in a room.”

I glanced at Astrid’s supermodel cheekbones. “Well, she should be happy here then.”

“It’s a matter of taste, of course, but if I were the magic mirror, I’d advise you not to accept any apples in that dress.”

I sighed and blew a strand of hair out of my face with a frustrated breath. “Listen, Abracanova, I’m not here to flirt with you.”

He grinned.

“Or to get the Witchcraft 101 lecture. I’m here to—” I cleared my throat. “Um, okay, I am here to learn some witchcraft, but just ’cause we’ve got magical families in common doesn’t make us compatible,” I hissed at him in a whisper. “So you can just cut out all that flirting. Our names aren’t Tim and Faith, and this ain’t Nashville.”

He laughed softly. “When you tell Zach to stop flirting with you, does he listen?”

“I don’t tell him to.”

“Never? Even during the divorce?”

I waved a dismissive hand. “That’s none of your business.”

“So you’ve said.”

“When are we going to ask them to vote?”

“We don’t have a quorum yet. The bad weather’s delayed things. We’ll have to wait to see if enough members come. Once the meeting is under way, there will be a point when the discussion is opened for new business.”

The chicken-bone gypsy narrowed her creepy red eyes at me, and the Cajun wizard, having caught me looking at them, flexed his pecs. The snake tattoo’s head jerked, and the man licked his lips with a tongue that was split like a lizard’s. A forked tongue!
Yuck. Let me out of here
.

My body convulsed into a shudder, and I leaned closer to Bryn. “If it comes down to me using my body to charm the Cajun out of his vote or all those poor people staying asleep, I want you to know that I’m going to buy them all some real nice feather pillows.”

Bryn laughed softly. “I don’t blame you.”

I sat quietly with my hands folded across my lap. I felt totally out of place, like a fly in a room full of long-legged spiders just hoping I’d make it out before they started spinning webs.

Our table fell into a discussion of the changes in the national bylaws. There was a general objection to something the wizards’ council, the Conclave, had pushed through requiring witches and wizards to submit to a test called the Highcrest Challenge.

“John Barrett’s way of trying to locate threats, those powerful enough to challenge his authority,” Lennox said.

“And yet, he must know that the challenge is effort-based,” Astrid observed.

“He’s counting on egos to make us all push ourselves to the limits of our magical strength,” Lennox said.

“I think Mr. Barrett misunderstands the nature of some wizards. Take Bryn, for example.” She looked at Bryn, and he raised his eyebrows. “I heard you submitted to the challenge and only reached the fourth level.”

“The best I could do.”

“Oh,
sí
. Of course, yes,” she said with mock agreement. “And yet when the Black Oyster Coven was under siege from a pack of Razak demons, you went to their aid. Lucinda said you held back the pack until she could raise the fades to drive them off.”

Bryn shrugged. “The Razaks must have been worn out. Lucinda’s sister had wounded them.”

Astrid smiled. “Of course. Still, a fourth-level wizard couldn’t have done what you did. Level five would have been more believable. Although, perhaps Barrett doesn’t know of the Razak battle.”

“He doesn’t need to know about it. It was one wizard coming to the aid of the coven in his region. In North America, we simply want to be left alone.”

“Yes, so lucky that you’re American. Because with Celtic blood, a black Irish bloodline, Barrett would need to worry very much about that.”

“I don’t know much about the Celtic bloodlines,” Bryn said.

Lennox cleared his throat and exchanged a look with his son.

“Your pretty new
chica
looks like she might,” Astrid said, flicking a strand of my hair. I frowned and leaned away from her spindly fingers.

“Half-bred fae from the look of her,” Lennox said with a nod.

My mouth fell open. What in the Sam Houston? “Why do you say that?” I didn’t know thing one about my daddy, whoever he was, but I always assumed, given my lack of abilities, that he was a human and not magical at all. Except now I seemed to have come into some power, but maybe that was finally from Momma’s line.

“Your mother was a circle groupie. She certainly spent her share of time underhill. And your bone structure, you’ve had that unearthly beauty for several years now,” Lennox explained.

Saying I was too pretty to be all human was a backhanded compliment if I’d ever heard one, and I’d heard plenty. “What’s a circle groupie?” I demanded.

“Dad,” Bryn said with a small shake of his head.

Lennox smiled, and it wasn’t an “I’m happy for you” smile. It was a “How come you never guessed you’re a faery’s bastard daughter?” smirk.

Bryn assured me, “Your mother’s gorgeous. You look like her.”

“Only better. Too much better,” Lennox observed.

I clenched my teeth. “What’s a circle groupie?”

“Here’s quorum,” Lennox said, nodding to the doorway, where two young blond wizards had just walked in and were shaking the rain from their jackets.

One of the grandmotherly-looking witches stood, undisturbed by the parakeet standing at attention on the crown of her head. “Let’s begin.”

I wanted to pay attention, but I couldn’t focus. The fae live under hills, and you’re supposed to be able to find the entrance in a circular patch of discolored grass. When I was little, Momma told me tales of faery knights who’d rescued humans from all sorts of peril—throat-rippers, as she called vampires, clawed beasts, demons, and all kinds of vicious predators of mankind. Had she more than admired the fae? Had she chased the knights until they caught her? Was she still chasing them?

Boom!
I jumped, startled by the earth-cracking noise. It was almost as loud as the thunder, but too close. A hush fell over the room as we listened, and then something slammed against the door.
Bam!

Witches and wizards leapt up, drawing back from the room’s entry. The old witches pulled out wands. The Cajun and gypsy yanked out clawed skeleton hands. I backed up and noticed Bryn’s face. He looked worried.

“Blood?” Bryn said, pulling out a small pocketknife. He glanced between Lennox and Astrid.

Lennox shook his head and pulled out an amulet from under his shirt.

“Tamara doesn’t have an amulet,” Bryn said.

“More’s the pity for her. Her family should have trained her or stayed around to protect her instead of chasing mist.”

Bryn muttered a curse under his breath and turned to Astrid. “Astrid, we’ll be stronger together.”

Bam! Bam!
The door groaned.

“Not if you try to protect the girl, too,” Astrid said, shaking her head.

Great. Whatever was outside was going to try to tear us to bits, and I was the only one on the battlefield without a weapon.

Chapter 9

“There’s a spell on the door,” Bryn said, taking me by the arm and leading me to the back of the room. “It’s not holding. Stand here,” he said, putting me in the corner. “Give me permission to cast a protection spell on you.”

Bam!
I shook, my eyes darting to the doorway. “What’s out there?” I gasped.

“Brute force. Probably shifters or demons, and a lot of them.”

The door cracked under the force of the next blow. My heart pounded just as hard. Something horrible was trying to get in, and when it did, it was going to get us.

“Give me permission!” Bryn snapped.

“Yes, okay.”

Bryn opened his knife. “Stay inside the circle. Whatever happens, don’t step out.” Bryn scored his fingertip and blood welled. The red swirled before my eyes, and I felt dizzy.

“Don’t. Don’t faint.” He squeezed my arm with his unwounded hand. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” I said, my blood draining to my toes as he knelt and marked the floor with his blood. I braced my hands against the walls. And then Bryn stood and marked the walls with stars and a crescent moon as he muttered some enchantment.

The door splintered, and I heard the most horrible sound I’d ever heard in my life. A snarling howl. A pack of huge werewolves rushed the room, long muzzles with dagger-sharp teeth bared. A couple were only partially shifted, taking the form of wolf-men covered in fur with clawed hands and feet, faces deformed and feral.

I slammed my back against the wall for support and couldn’t breathe. Bryn shouted something in Latin and flung his arms out, advancing. The other witches and wizards threw spells, too.

The wolves tore through the magic, and one ate the parakeet in one gulp before they knocked down the old witches. Two pounced on the Cajun and tore his chest open. Blood splattered.

I shrieked and flung an arm across my eyes. I didn’t want to see them kill me. The growls were deafening, and so were the sounds of bodies falling and witches and wizards screaming.

Finally, things went quiet, except for the wolves’ growling. I opened my eyes and saw Bryn on his knees, arms outstretched. Lennox had a hand on his son’s right shoulder and the amulet in the other. Astrid too had a bloody hand on Bryn’s left shoulder and one hand out. Some of the beasts were dead or seriously wounded, but the ones who weren’t leapt forward, blood dripping from their jowls.

An invisible barrier repelled them, but when they bounced back they recovered immediately and slammed forward again, battering the magical energy and forcing the trio back.

A huge clawed pair swiped through the barrier and Lennox fell, cracking his head on the floor.

Astrid, breathless and limp, sank down onto her hands and knees, and a wolf towered over her. I screamed as it gnashed its teeth and tried to bite her spine. Bryn kept his arms up and the wolf ’s mouth slid just shy of Astrid.

I could see Bryn struggling to hold them back, his arms shaking slightly. They surrounded him, looming huge and vicious. Sweat dripped from Bryn’s hair and the veins on his neck popped.

Too many of them. They’ll wear him down.

He was splitting his strength to shield me. And we were both going to end up dead if someone didn’t help him. I needed something—a weapon. I looked at the table service. I hoped it wasn’t just butter knives wrapped up in the linen napkins.

I stepped forward, and the bubble popped. Bryn gasped as the power sling-shotted into him.

“No!” he yelled, glancing back as two wolves jumped, sliding over the shield and coming straight for me.

I saw the steak knives on the buffet. I ran toward it.

“Carpe facto!”
Bryn shouted, and I felt myself flung forward. I closed my eyes and screamed, feeling my hands close on cool, wooden knife handles.

I crouched and spun, thrusting my arms out. I fell back when they slammed into me, and I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed my fists forward as hard as I could, burying my hands in fur up to the wrists. I felt the knives plunge into the wolf-men, then they were off me.

I realized I was screaming and stopped. The room was deathly quiet. I opened my eyes, tears already flowing. Bryn bent over, gasping. Blood flowed from a wound on his side.

I stood and swayed, but caught myself by leaning against the table with my elbow. The crimson scratches on my legs stung. I dropped the steak knives; raw meat hung along the serrations. I staggered, feeling sick. I grabbed the table and bent my head to sob. I didn’t want to look at the bodies, half eaten by the wolves, rank as a sewer.

“It’s okay,” Bryn said, sounding far away, though he couldn’t have been, because I felt his hand against my head. “Let’s go.”

“I can’t look.”

“Hold on to me, and I’ll lead you outside.”

I shuffled along, my shoes slipping in places, and I tried not to think about the carnage. Outside the rain had made the air smell nice, and I gulped in a couple of Texas-sized breaths before I opened my eyes.

The door of the limo hung open and Lennox was slumped on the seat with his head back.

“Is he okay?” I asked, taking a step forward.

An engine roaring to life made me look up, and mud splattered as Astrid swung her white sports car around and barreled it out of the field onto the road.

I slid into the seat next to Lennox, and Bryn sat across from us. Bryn shrugged his suit coat off, and I noticed that the left lower part of his shirt was shredded and saturated with blood.

“Oh no,” I gasped.

“It’s all right. How are your legs?”

“Okay,” I stammered, staring at the deep scratches on his side where I could see muscle and marble-size blood clots.