mythean arcana 07 - witchs fate (17 page)

“That’s dumb.”

“I know.” They reached the huge door and he pounded on it.

They waited only a moment before it swung open. A tall woman stood at the threshold, her auburn hair gleaming in the golden light from the large foyer. An apprentice.

“We’re here for Corrier,” Malcolm said.

“May I ask who you are?” Her Irish accent was lilting. 

“Step aside, Moira. I know who they are.”

Moira stepped aside to reveal a familiar figure coming down the stairs. Tall and slender, Corrier’s white hair stuck out at wild angles. His dark cloak fell back from his shoulders, revealing gray trousers and shirt beneath. The power that radiated off him made Malcolm’s skin tingle. Corrier was the most powerful warlock in the world.

“Sofia.” His voice was warm. “It’s been centuries.”

“It has.” Warmth was buried beneath the hint of wariness in Sofia’s voice.

Corrier looked at Malcolm. “The same goes for you.” 

His voice had chilled slightly, but Malcolm understood. Unlike Sofia, he’d completed his training. It was understood when a failed apprentice didn’t return to see the mentor. There was no reason to. But warlocks didn’t often stay away from their mentors for as long as Malcolm had. And three hundred years was a long time.

“I’m sorry, Corrier. But it’s good to see you.” He meant it. With Sofia now at his side, some of his bitterness had waned.

“Come, let’s have a drink. When someone who’s been away as long as you shows up, they normally want something. I’d like a drink for that.”

They followed him down the hall to his study. It was so familiar. He could recall stolen moments with Sofia in this very hall. He clenched a fist, pushing the memories away. They only served to confuse him. Make him regret his actions. Regret was weakness. He just had to go forward with the tools he had. He’d find a way to be with Sofia.

“Take a seat,” Corrier said once they entered his cluttered study. 

The room was large, but the number of bookshelves and tables made it feel much smaller. Leather-bound tomes and magical instruments littered the surfaces. The fire blazed in the hearth, sending a warm glow into the room.

“Tea?” Corrier asked.

They both nodded.

Corrier went to a table laid out with implements for making tea and waved his hand, producing three steaming mugs. He turned to them and held up a bottle of whisky.

“Absolutely,” Sofia said.

“Thanks,” Malcolm said.

Corrier poured, then brought them their drinks. Three mugs for them, a saucer for the cat. They sat in chairs in front of the fire. Kitty took up a position in front of the hearth. Malcolm’s mind could so easily travel back in time to when they’d all sat here the first time. Even after Corrier had come into the room, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of Sofia. When he’d seen her commitment and intelligence, he’d been lost.

“What is it that you need? After three hundred years, people don’t visit just to say hello.” His tone was kind.

“I’m sorry, Corrier. I never thought to visit,” Sofia said. “Though I valued what you taught me, the cost was too high.”

“I understand.” His gaze moved to Malcolm. “Can you say the same?”

Malcolm sighed. “Honestly, I can. The loss of Sofia proved to be too great.”

He felt her gaze on him, but didn’t look at her. Admitting these things… wasn’t easy. But he had to learn to do so if he wanted to win her.

“That is the nature of the warlock. Sacrifice in all things. Such great power comes at a price.”

“I now realize how great,” Malcolm said.

“Then how can I be of service?” Corrier asked.

“We are potentially—likely—in some trouble,” Malcolm said. He explained the problem with the witches. “So you can see, we need help.”

Corrier sat back and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Hmm. That is not good. It’s not possible to defeat the High Witches. Not when they fight as a group. Will they?”

“Yes,” Malcolm said.

“And your best hope is retrieving the Salem Coven’s Grimoire, but you’ll have to enter their house to do so. If you fail, you will have to disband your village.”

“Yes,” Sofia said, her eyes dark with pain.

Corrier leaned forward. “Though I do not become involved in the affairs of my apprentices, I can make Sofia stronger. She is the weaker link—” his gaze met hers “—no offense intended my dear, but you didn’t finish the training.” 

“I know. But become a warlock?” There was dread in her voice.

“No. That opportunity has past. But you have the training. You know how to handle immense power. What I can do is link you to Malcolm. When you are in trouble, he can transfer power to you through the aether.”

“Won’t that weaken him?”

Corrier met his gaze. “Yes, though only if he gave you more than he could afford to lose. But if you were both fighting for your lives and your magical energy ran low, it’d be safer if he could transfer power to you and you could both continue to fight.”

“And he wouldn’t have to jump in and save me.” From the sound of her voice, Sofia liked that idea. 

Malcolm sat back. Break up his power and share it with Sofia? He’d sacrificed everything for his power. Once, sharing it would have been out of the question. But it sounded like he’d have control of it. And Sofia needed it. “Yes. We’ll do that.”

“Hey! I haven’t agreed,” Sofia said.

“What’s to agree to?” Malcolm asked. “You’ll be twice as powerful. At least. With no downside, it sounds like.” 

Her brow creased and her gaze was thoughtful. “There’s really no downside for me?”

“No. For Malcolm, yes. But not for you. You’ll have to get a small tattoo, and when you’re near Malcolm, you’ll feel him, but those are minor,” Corrier said.

“Feel him?”

Corrier nodded. “If you’re within a couple hundred yards of each other, you’ll be aware that he is there. But that’s all. And it will be useful when you’re fighting a battle together.”

She nodded. “Okay, I’ll do it. And thank you both.”

Something loosened in Malcolm’s chest. He’d been worried she wouldn’t take the offer. But it would make her stronger. Safer. Now that she would be both, he relaxed a bit. It wasn’t foolproof, but it was better than nothing. It’d give him more control, too. He hadn’t known how Corrier would be able to help them, but he’d been certain they’d be better off if he agreed to assist them somehow.

“All right, then,” Corrier said as he rose. “The first step is to link the two of you, the tattoos will be imbued with magic that will connect you and allow you to transfer magical energy to Sofia.”

“I’ll go first,” Sofia said.

“You hold your wand with your right hand?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll get the tattoo on that arm.” Corrier retrieved a feather quill from a shelf, then returned to stand in front of the fire. 

Sofia rolled up her shirt sleeve. Corrier held out a hand and opened a small portal to the aether. It glowed bright white, an orb about a foot in diameter that floated about four feet off the ground. Corrier extended the feather quill until it touched the light and waited until it glowed.

Once it gleamed with magical energy, he withdrew it and turned to Sofia. She held her arm out, forearm facing up. 

“Picture Malcolm in your head.”

Sofia nodded and closed her eyes. She winced when Corrier pressed the quill to her skin, but held still as he drew.

When it was over, she sighed in relief and glanced at it. Surprise flashed in her gaze when she saw the tall, cloaked man on her inner arm.

Corrier turned to Malcolm. “The same for you now.”

“My shoulder,” Malcolm said as he stripped off his sweater.

“All right then. Picture Sofia.”

Malcolm closed his eyes and did as Corrier requested. An image didn’t form in his mind, though a feeling of her did. Is this what Sofia had felt? He was about to tell Corrier when the man said, “Good, good. That’ll do.”

Pain sliced through Malcolm’s shoulder, a line of raging fire that made him clench his teeth. He held tight to the sense of Sofia. It felt as if her essence were within him, directing Corrier’s quill.

Finally, the pain faded. Malcolm opened his eyes to see Corrier stepping back.

“All done.” Corrier returned the quill to the shelf. “If Sofia is ever in a situation where she needs more magical power—say to fight a particularly evil witch—envision sending her some of your power. Focus on the tattoo and the link you feel. It should work.”

Malcolm nodded, then glanced down at his shoulder. Surprise flashed through him, then a grin tugged at his lips.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sofia stared at Malcolm’s shoulder, bewildered. His tattoo was… glorious. A winged woman, powerful and beautiful, decorated his skin. 

That wasn’t her.

Malcolm tugged on his shirt and her trance broke.

“Thank you, Corrier,” Malcolm said.

“Of course. You were two of my favorite students.” His gaze met Sofia’s. “And I understand why you left the apprenticeship. It’s not for everyone. The cost can be too high.”

She nodded gratefully, her eyes pricking. She really had hated to leave her studies.  

They said their goodbyes and Malcolm aetherwalked them back to his library. 

She stepped back, then met his gaze. Unable to stop herself, she said, “That tattoo wasn’t me.”

“It represents how I see you.”

Oh. She blinked. Her heart started to pound. 

Holy hell, she was in trouble. It was now clear: the good parts of him that she’d once fallen for were still there—they were just covered up by the jerky shell that loneliness had created. And even that shell was cracking.

He’d agreed to share his power with her. She hadn’t thought it possible for him to make such a sacrifice.

Fates, how she wanted to be close to him. To pretend that time and choices hadn’t torn them apart. But she was so close to falling for him again, and that was so damned dangerous. She couldn’t have her heart broken a second time. And he would break it. Unless…

“Give up being a warlock,” she said, desperation clear in her voice. “Take it back.”

“I can’t.” He gripped her shoulders, his gaze pained. “It’s who I am. And it’s not possible, anyway.”

Not true,
part of her whispered. There had to be a way. 

But it was clear in his firm gaze…he wouldn’t pursue it. This was why he was the cloaked man in her tattoo, she realized. When Corrier had asked her to picture Malcolm, she’d just received a feeling. He was inaccessible to her. Reserved.

It made her heart ache. But perhaps it was a good thing. As long as she knew he never intended to try, she wouldn’t fall for him. Right? That would just be stupid. And she still hadn’t forgiven him for what he’d done.

“I’m sorry, Sofia. I can’t do that.” His gaze met hers, devouring. “But I can make this work between us.”

She shook her head, her heart sinking. “You really can’t.” 

After seeing what had happened to Laira… There was no guarantee that the same wouldn’t happen to her— if they fell back in love with one another,
something
would tear them apart. One of them might die or become imprisoned or they’d grow to hate each other.

“Let me try.” His gaze was so intense, his desire so strong, that she could almost feel it. “Just stay the night with me. We’ll only sleep. But I want to be near you. Now. Forever.”

It was such a bad idea, but she couldn’t help herself.
For now
couldn’t be so bad, could it? Forever was out of the questions. But just one night? 

“No sex.” It was too dangerous. It’d make her fall for him even faster. “Just sleeping. And just tonight.”

A heart-stopping grin took over his face and he swept her up in his arms. She gasped, then clung to him, her heart pounding. A second later, they stood in his bedroom. They’d aetherwalked.

“I couldn’t wait,” he said.

“Hang on.” She drew her wand from the aether and turned her day clothes into sleep shorts and a shirt.

“Gods, you look so good,” he said.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she said, though an enormous part of her wanted him to throw her on the bed. It
wouldn’t
happen though.

She watched him strip down to his boxer briefs and stifled a sigh. Fates, he was big. All broad shoulders and planes of muscle. She’d never seen a man as well built and beautiful as he.

His golden gaze met hers. “In bed.”

She climbed in and turned away from him. The bed dipped, then his big arm wrapped around her and pulled her into his embrace. The most intense feeling of belonging swept over her. She hadn’t felt this in four hundred years.

Not since him.

It took her ages to fall asleep with his hard form pressed to hers, but every second was the most delicious torture.