Seduced by Magic (3 page)

Tiernan's heart set to pounding despite the fact he normally held little faith in human witch divination.

Rhiannon braced her hands on the wooden table the cauldron perched on, her knuckles white from clenching her fists. Her face was so close to the fog that it caressed her cheeks.

Silver recoiled, her palm over her mouth, before she dropped her hand. “How can they? He was exiled far below Otherworld. Beyond Underworld, even.”

Tiernan could not help the rumble that rose up in his
chest at the memory of Balor's exile centuries ago. From the corner of his eye he saw Hawk give him a disapproving look.

Rhiannon backed away from the table, but kept her eyes on the fog. “Somehow Darkwolf and the Fomorii will find a way to free Balor—if we don't stop them first.” Rhiannon's gaze swung to Silver then back to the cauldron. “What—what's that?” She studied the foggy shapes above the cauldron. “No,
who
is that?”

Silver's shoulders began shaking and tears started rolling down her cheeks. “It's Copper—” Her voice came out in a strained whisper. “She's stretched out like she's a sacrifice.”

“And she's bleeding,” Rhiannon said, horror written across her face.

Tiernan's gut wrenched and he grew cold.

The fog diminished until nothing was left but a faint spiral and then it was gone, too.

In mere strides, Hawk had Silver in his arms. She gripped the front of his tunic in her fists and sobbed freely against his chest. “I've scried and scried to find Copper since she vanished and have seen nothing. But now, to see her like that? Oh, goddess.”

Hawk held her tight as she continued to cry.

Tiernan clenched his jaw and turned to Rhiannon. “Tell me everything you saw.”

The usually calm and collected witch visibly trembled as she raised her chin to look up at him. “You heard every word. The Balorites and Fomorii are searching for a way to free Balor.”

He tried to keep his voice steady. “Are you sure this will happen? Or has it already happened?”

Rhiannon steadied herself by placing one hand on the table beside the cauldron. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before releasing it again. For a moment the witch went still. Her breathing became heavier, her expression
twisting to one of pain. Tiernan noticed her eyes were moving rapidly behind her eyelids, as if she were dreaming or watching a scene unfold within her mind.

Finally she opened her eyes. “My sight tells me it hasn't happened yet. Other beings are helping to search for the door that will free Balor. I have no idea how soon they will locate it, though.”

“Copper.” Silver sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her swollen red eyes. “She was there, tied down in some kind of circle, and her eyes were closed. Someone, something was bleeding her.”

Tiernan glanced to the frames sitting next to Silver's computer and saw one of the pictures of the laughing redhead. Every time he saw the pictures he found himself intrigued by the missing woman, almost to the point of obsession. For some reason the thought of something happening to her made him beyond furious, heat quickly chasing away the chill that had overcome him.

“You are certain it was your sister? You are certain your
vision
is true?” Tiernan asked in a harsh voice.

Silver's spine stiffened and her gaze snapped to Tiernan's. “There is no doubt in my mind.”

Hawk glared at Tiernan, his jaw tense. “I do not care if you are a
lord
. You do not speak to my mate in such a manner.”

Before Tiernan could respond, the door swung open. Alyssa and Sydney stumbled into the room. Both witches were flushed, as if from running.

“We divined where the Balorites and Fomorii are,” Alyssa said in a rush. “But you need to hurry because they are leaving.”

Tiernan eased around the corner of what appeared to be an abandoned building, his muscles tense and his jaw clenched. His senses were on full alert and his body prepared to unleash his wings and launch into the air at a moment's
notice. He gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, where it rested beneath his long, black coat.

It was an unusually warm day for San Francisco, and sweat trickled along the side of his face and down his neck to his chest. He would have preferred the cover of darkness, but if the witches' scrying was correct the remaining warlocks and Fomorii demons were currently using this building as their base—if they had not yet fled. He was hoping for the former. What he wouldn't give to kick some demon ass right now. Capturing at least a few warlocks would make his day, too.

Other than the Elves, the D'Danann warriors were the only beings who could battle and win against the Fomorii. The D'Danann could unfold or hide their large feathered wings at will and had the ability to shield themselves from human or demon sight when searching the skies for signs of whatever beings they looked for. The D'Danann could wrench the head from an enemy and tear his heart out with one strike to the chest.

The warriors had been summoned to this Otherworld, Earth, by a D'Anu witch just before Samhain. Now, perhaps eight weeks since that time, they were no closer to finding the Fomorii queen or the warlock high priest. They had gone well into hiding, no doubt to regroup after a great many of the Fomorii had been sent back to Underworld on Samhain. Thanks to the D'Anu witches' divination talents, the D'Danann had come close to finding the Fomorii and warlocks. But for some reason they were always too late, a fact that puzzled the witches. It was thought that perhaps the Balorites had an exceptionally gifted seer who was able to warn the warlocks and Fomorii in time.

The Balorites were an especially sinister Clan of male and female warlocks who had originally summoned the Fomorii. The Balorites, led by the high priest Darkwolf, had employed the darkest of rituals to bring forth the demons.
They had sacrificed the lives of innocents and had used their blood.

Darkwolf wore a stone eye on a chain about his neck, and it was believed by the D'Danann to be a tool of the ancient god Balor. Somehow Balor was influencing the will of the warlocks to bring forth his minions.

Fomorii could inhabit another being's body, killing the host instantly while the demon took over the being's shell, virtually becoming that person or creature. In their natural state, the demons were of hideous shapes and colors. Some had one eye like the god Balor, while others had many. Their limbs were odd-sized or numerous, as well. They had long needlelike teeth and horrible claws. The Formorii had started tipping their claws in iron, which was deadly to Elves and Fae, including the D'Danann.

Even though he could not see his comrades just yet, Tiernan knew that Hawk and the other D'Danann Enforcers crept just as quietly around the building, and some of the D'Danann had flown to the rooftop to gain entrance. The witches who had insisted on accompanying them were, surprisingly, as light-footed as the D'Danann.

When Tiernan passed an open window, a whiff of rotten fish invaded his nose. Yes. The stench of the Fomorii. Only there was not more than a hint of it. No doubt the D'Danann and witches were too late; but he did not let down his guard.

Tiernan reached the steps leading to the door of the building and Hawk appeared around the corner, across from him.

“I fear they have left,”
Tiernan said in mind-speak to Hawk.

“Aye.”
Hawk gave a sharp nod of agreement, but held his sword at the ready, just as Tiernan did.

Part of the D'Danann magic was the ability to tread so lightly when they willed it that not even the slightest sound
could be heard. Despite their size, their boots, and their muscled bulk, not a single step creaked beneath Tiernan's and Hawk's combined weight as they eased their way up the weathered stairs.

However, they could not control the squeak of the door-knob or the scrape of the rotting door as Tiernan opened it. The peeling paint was rough beneath his palm when he placed it against the wood and pushed it all the way open. At once he smelled dust and decay along with the demon stench.

They entered a narrow hallway and the smell of Fomorii grew stronger. But not strong enough. As they worked their way through the building, Tiernan and Hawk communicated with their fellow warriors using mind-speak and learned that the other warriors too had found nothing. From what Tiernan could discern, the building was apparently void of any furniture or other objects. It was stripped bare—it probably had been that way before the Fomorii had taken possession of it. The smell of rotten fish and the deep gouges in the floor and on the walls were the only signs the demons had been there.

Toward the end of their search, Tiernan came upon a scrap of old parchment that was out of place in this modern world. He found it in a cobwebbed corner of one of the rooms. He frowned as he retrieved the tattered paper that felt rough between his fingers. An ink drawing was sketched on its surface—a vertical rectangle with a circle beneath it. A smaller ring was within the larger circle, and strange runes were etched in the space between the two circles.

Hawk came up beside Tiernan and studied the drawing, as well. “I believe either you have found something of import,” Hawk said, “or something meant to lead us astray. Perhaps Silver or one of the other witches can use their knowledge or their divination skills to determine its meaning.”

Tiernan gently rolled the worn parchment and slipped it into the pocket of his black overcoat that covered his weapons. At one time he hadn't given much stock in human witches. Not until the D'Anu, with the assistance of the D'Danann, had vanquished a good number of the Fomorii and sent the beasts back to Underworld.

When they found no other clues, Hawk and Tiernan gave orders to return to their home base.

Damn the Underworld, the Fomorii were still one step ahead of them.

Tiernan folded his arms across his chest and focused his gaze intently on the witch Silver Ashcroft. She was standing, slightly bent over her scrying cauldron. The piece of parchment was still in his pocket. He intended to show it to the witches when Silver finished her second scrying attempt. The room carried the scent of Silver's lily perfume and some kind of citrus smell that she said she used to cover up the musty odor of the old apartment.

The witch, Hawk, and Tiernan were again in Silver's apartment within a building in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco. The building was owned by Jake Macgregor, a Special Forces agent who dealt with paranormal crimes. After Silver was banished from the powerful D'Anu Coven she had belonged to, for using gray magic, several of her sister witches left with her to form their own D'Anu Coven. But this Coven was now entirely made up of witches willing to use gray magic.

Jake had offered a portion of the building he owned to the D'Danann and the D'Anu witches to use as a headquarters while they searched for the rest of the Fomorii demons and Balorite warlocks. Jake had inherited the building from a wealthy uncle and drew a steady rent income from residents, but fortunately he had several available apartments.

Silver drew Tiernan's attention as he looked back to her
cauldron where wisps of fog still rose in lazy spirals. “I saw Darkwolf, and that demon Junga when I scried,” Silver said with a touch of anger. “I couldn't tell what they were talking about, but Darkwolf was looking over some kind of map.”

Hawk rested his hand on Silver's shoulder and said, “Do you know where the bastards are?”

Silver sighed and shook her head, her long silvery-blond hair spilling over her shoulders with the movement. “Not yet.” She glanced from Hawk to Tiernan, a determined look in her stormy gray eyes. “But I
will
find them.”

“Were there any clues?” Tiernan rubbed his temples. “Did you notice anything about the place they occupied when you had this—this vision?”

Silver nodded. “I was just about to get to that.” She pulled away from Hawk and paced the length of the apartment's common room, her heels clicking on the tile floor. Her silk blouse pulled against her breasts and her skirt reached to mid-thigh. Her apparel was much different from that of the D'Danann ladies of the court, who tended to wear long dresses with full skirts.

Tiernan actually preferred the clothing of Silver and of the D'Danann warrior women over that of the ladies of the court with their silks and satins. The D'Danann warrior women girded themselves in leather tunics and breeches, as did the male warriors. But it was not for him to say what the women of the court wore.

“I saw walls filled with books—rows and rows of them,” Silver said. “It was like they were in some kind of library.”

Tiernan raised an eyebrow and Hawk grunted. “There were also works of art and a large window.”

Silver continued her pacing. “I believe it's a private library.”

Silver sighed and paused in her pacing to glance at her desk in one corner of the room. She went to the desk and picked up a photograph. “I can't help but hope that once
we locate that damned warlock Darkwolf, we'll be able to find Copper.” Her voice caught and he could hear the tears in her voice. “Before something happens to her. That vision can't come true. It just
can't
.”

Tiernan moved closer to Silver to view the picture of her sister and his heart set to thumping.

“Darkwolf.” Silver's voice had an edge of anger. “When we battled the Fomorii and Balorites at Samhain, he alluded to knowing what happened to her. Maybe even having something to do with her disappearance.”

“We will find her,” Hawk said as he wrapped one arm around Silver's shoulders and squeezed her close to him.

Without asking, Tiernan took the photograph from Silver's hands. He studied the woman in the picture, his gaze taking in the face he had already memorized. Every curve of her Fae features, the sprinkling of Faerie kisses across her nose, her cinnamon eyes, her copper-colored hair. She was aptly named. It was one of many times he had studied the picture.