Authors: Cheyenne McCray
Shadow Magic (26 page)
Hannah frowned. “Then a silverish power enveloped him and Ceithlenn seemed frightened. A moment after she vanished, all the Fomorii did, too.” She studied Garran. “Then he collapsed.”
When Hannah looked up, Silver looked puzzled while Cassia just nodded and continued using her magic on Garran. Silver handed Hannah a vial and when she opened it she smelled cedar wood. It was used for healing, protection, and to drive away evil.
Hannah took the cedar wood oil and touched Garran at his temples and throat. He was wearing his Drow warrior gear, so his chest was bare except for his leather and gem-encrusted straps. Silver helped her to remove the straps and weapons belt, and then Hannah rubbed the cedar oil over his powerful chest, down to the waistband of his leather pants. The air smelled of cedar and Garran's masculine scent.
“I think we've done all we can do for now,” Cassia said as she got up. She was wearing a pale blue robe that swirled around her feet when she stood. “I'm certain he'll be all right. It might take a few days of healing, but he'll be as fit as he always was.”
The knots in Hannah's stomach got impossibly tighter. “How could you know that?”
Cassia smiled, one of her peaceful smiles that usually had a calming effect. “From what you described I believe I know why this is happening, and why he is ill. If it's so, then he will recover.” Cassia's smile faded and she sighed. “This time.”
Hannah got to her feet in a rush. “What? What do you mean, âthis time?'.”
Cassia shook her head. “It is not for me to tell. You will have to wait until the time is right to learn his secret.”
Hannah glared.
Riddling bitch! She's as bad as the Great Guardian and just as immovable. Like a damned piece of witchstone
.
Riddling bitch! She's as bad as the Great Guardian and just as immovable. Like a damned piece of witchstone
.
Hannah didn't know what to say as she tried to decipher what Cassia had said. Silver and Cassia left the room, closing the door behind them. Exhausted, every bone in her body weighing her down, with great effort Hannah dropped Keir's coat to the floor and jerked on one of her robes. She stumbled to the sleeping bags, eased down, and curled up beside Garran.
RAIN AND ICE BATTERED Hannah's body and she could barely see through the gray downpour as she ran. Her clothing stuck to her skin, the rain plastered her hair to her face, and pea-sized hail struck her as if someone were throwing small rocks at her.
Her heart raced as she darted through the fog and rain and hail. Her arms and legs hurt from running and her chest ached from her harsh breathing.
She came up short when she reached the pier and she blinked away the rain, unable to believe what she was seeing.
Hundreds and hundreds of demons rose from the bay, scrabbling to gain purchase before flooding the docks crowded with humans.
Terror ripped through Hannah as the Fomorii grabbed people, killing them by snapping their necks, taking out their hearts, or slicing their throats. People screamed and tried to run from the docks, but the demons were too fast. They took down one human after another after another. Blood poured out of the people but the rain washed it from the asphalt streets, concrete sidewalks, and the wooden piers.
Bile rose up in Hannah's throat and the urge to throw up was so strong she didn't think she could hold it back. But she needed to. She needed to figure out what to do to stop these demons.
Hannah's gaze snapped to the sky.
Ceithlenn flapped her huge wings and rose above the beasts.
Like in the baseball stadium, souls shot through the air straight for the goddess. Only these were from humans the
Fomorii were murdering, not souls she was stealing from those still living.
Fomorii were murdering, not souls she was stealing from those still living.
Ceithlenn absorbed the souls, looking more powerful, more terrible with every soul she gatheredâher eyes becoming a deeper red, her hair flaming higher, her wings stretching wider, her fangs and claws growing longer.
Hannah tried to scream for help, but no words would come to her mouth. She turned in a full circle, looking around her. Panic rose in her like something trying to rip her from the inside out. Where was everyone? Garran and the Drow weren't there. The entire Alliance was missing.
Hannah's whole body tightened as she came around to face the carnage again.
Garran lay sprawled on the ground, his eyes wide and sightless.
And Ceithlenn was coming straight toward Hannah.
HANNAH CRIED OUT AS she sat up on the sleeping bags. She put her hand to her forehead as if to block out the horrible nightmare. The pounding in her heart was answered by a throbbing in her head, blurring her vision for a moment.
An answering shriek came from Banshee and Hannah looked up to see the falcon familiar circling above her. He glided down and landed on her shoulder, his nails biting through her robe just enough to let her know she was really awake.
She turned her gaze on Garran to see that things hadn't changedâhe was out cold and was still flat on his back. Morning sunlight streamed through the high warehouse windows and touched his face. His hair was once again white-blond, his skin fairâbut very, very pale.
Banshee took off again, and she sensed he was reassured that she was all right. His concern for her had been palpable when he'd flown down and rested on her shoulder. The falcon flew back up to the rafters as if to watch over all that was going on in the background.
Hannah needed to reassure herself, too, to touch Garran and see that he was okay. The memory of him in her dreams, his sightless eyes, shredded her insides.
She placed her palm on his chest, over his heart, and felt its steady beat. His skin was cool, though, not filled with the warmth it normally had.
A breath of relief escaped her at how true his heartbeat was. She looked down at every perfect feature on his face while keeping her palm on his chest. He was so beautiful, yet rugged and masculine looking at the same time. She moved her hand from his chest and caressed his smooth jaw. Apparently Elves had no facial or bodily hair because she'd noticed none on Garran. Nothing but the beautiful long hair that swept his broad shoulders.
As if he were the male version of Sleeping Beauty and she was a princess come to wake him, she pressed her mouth to his and lightly brushed his lips with hers. His lips were cool, not warm like she was used to, and a combination of disappointment and concern slid through her.
She softly kissed him again and caressed his cheek once more.
Needing to be closer to him, maybe even to help warm and heal him, she lay back down and curled up close to his side, resting her head on his chest so that she could hear his heartbeat.
The memory of the nightmare chilled her, but being close to Garran helped her push the images away.
In the background she heard the usual daytime sounds of talking and construction, but it faded away so that all she heard was Garran's heart beating and the shallow sounds of his breathing. The scent of cedar wood, moss, and earth enveloped her along with his masculine smell. She let it seep into her, comfort her, make her feel as if everything were going to be all right.
Hannah wrapped her arm across Garran's waist, closed her eyes, and slipped into a dreamless sleep.
THAT DROW BASTARD HAD tried to send her back to Underworld. Ceithlenn's snarl blasted through the cavern. Fear washed through her like a massive, ice-cold wave. She couldn't go back. Wouldn't go back to Underworld.
Not after everything she and Balor had done to return to the world they had once ruled. Not after the centuries they had spent in the godsforsaken Underworld. Nothing but dank caverns with great stalagmites and stalactites jutting from above and below, black pools that tasted of filth, and the smellsârotten meat, feces, and other horrid odors.
All they'd had to eat were whatever sick creatures inhabited such dark places. All they'd had to rule were Fomorii, Basilisks, Handai, and whatever other fucking beasts had been banished to the same depths as Balor and Ceithlenn.
After she transferred from the tower, she arrived in the empty cavern below Alcatraz. Alone. Even the Fire Dragon had returned to its home.
The fear inside her flickered, burned away by a sizzling, seething fury.
It had taken the souls of countless humans to give her the strength just to bring Balor to this world. Perhaps her powers combined with her husband's would be enough to bring the Fomorii back.
Ceithlenn snarled, knowing she couldn't retrieve them on
her own. For that, she would need warlocks and those useless creatures were either dead or turned traitor.
her own. For that, she would need warlocks and those useless creatures were either dead or turned traitor.
Crouched on the same rock shelf she had once watched her legions from, her body trembled with the force of her anger. She scratched her nails on the rock at her feet, the sound echoing through the cavern that had once been filled with the grunts and snorts, growls and shrieks, of Underworld creatures. Not only was the place silent, but the smells of the beasts had almost vanished.
She dug the nails of both hands into the solid rock to either side of her, welcome pain shooting through her fingers to her hands.
An attack on San Franciscoâthat was her next plan. Memories of what she'd done to the humans would have faded in their little minds at least enough to make them less cautious. She'd had Fomorii take over virtually every high-ranking official.
She allowed a wicked grin to creep across her face. Martial law had now been lifted, the city declared “safe.”
The demons she had placed at every news station were already reporting the threat was over and law enforcement on all levels would be diligent in protecting San Francisco from further attacks. The film of worthless humans being cuffed and taken into custody had been perfect.
She smiled. Stupid humans. They would resume their lives. Perhaps with some fear, yes, but they would return to their jobs, their daily routines.
Ceithlenn would use the remaining half of her legions to attack the people in the city. With no effort on her part, she would take the souls of the dead and use her powers to find Balor and Darkwolf.
She withdrew her fingernails from the rock and tapped them in a steady drumming sound on the hard surface. Soon she would have to call them all together, every one of her remaining Fomorii, so that they could sweep through the city, giving her power while they murdered human after human.
Once she was again with Balor and he had his eye, she would no longer need the Fomorii, but she preferred to keep her pets to do her will.
A scowl crossed her face as she studied the empty cavern. How had the Drow king been able to send so many of her forces back to Underworld?
She raked her nails across the rock again. Somehow she would learn what weakness went along with such a great power.
NO OTHER OPTIONS EXISTED. Darkwolf had to use the power of the eye for himself.
Staring at the ceiling, he lay next to Elizabeth on a comfortable bed, in the house they had overtaken. How many people had lived here, he didn't know and didn't want to know. ElizabethâJungaâhad done her job thoroughly and well as usual, leaving no remnants of the former residents behind.
Another stab of pain, like a sword through his head, caused him to squeeze his eyes shut until it receded as much as it was likely to.
Branches screeched across the window in the bedroom. The glow of a streetlight leaked in and caused shadows of the bony tree branches to make patterns on the ceilings and walls. They moved like skeletal fingers reaching for him through the near darkness.
He thought about fucking Elizabeth again to push away the pain and give himself, for the time he was inside her, the feeling of control he no longer had. Her steady breathing told him she was asleep, but she would take him whenever and whatever way he desired.
Instead, his mind turned back to the eye resting on his chest. The purple shroud of his magic glimmered in the dim room, and thank the gods no pulsing red light crept through to tell him Balor was near.
Darkwolf returned to his original thought. He truly had no options left. He had to use the eye himself.
If he dropped the shroud and pulled the essence of the eye into himself, instead of simply augmenting his own magic with it, he knew his power would be great. Great enough to fight Balor himself? Maybe.
Would he become a monster, more terrible than he had been as the High Priest of the Balorite warlocks?
That, too, was possible.
What would he do with that power?
Thoughts of killing, maiming, sacrificing, slid through his mind. Would he commit atrocious acts of violence against humans?
Again?
Or would he use that power to fight Balor and rid this city of the horrible, sickening threat that the god was?
Ceithlenn in her hideous goddess form, and as a human, entered his mind and his gut twisted. Could he use the power against her?
After what she'd done to him â¦
His entire body tensed.
With every fiber of his being he wanted to kill the bitch. Not send her back to Underworld, but
kill
her.
kill
her.
Yes, this was the answer. Every bit of magic and knowledge the eye possessed told him what to do.
Darkwolf smiled and let the shroud fall awayâ
And let his body absorb all of the magic and the power the eye commanded.
Instant pain seared through him like countless bolts of lightning. He shouted and gave a long cry as agony exploded inside him. Vaguely he was aware of Elizabeth sitting up in bed and her frantic expression.
Darkwolf yelled again as his body contorted and twisted. He held his palms to the sides of his head while pain forced tears from his eyes.
His body began changing, morphing.
Bone popped and shifted and he could feel himself
growing, his body expanding, lengthening. His head smacked into the bed's headboard and his feet hung off the edge of the mattress as he rolled back and forth. He arched as more bolts of pain tore through him and sweat broke out over his skin, drenching him.
growing, his body expanding, lengthening. His head smacked into the bed's headboard and his feet hung off the edge of the mattress as he rolled back and forth. He arched as more bolts of pain tore through him and sweat broke out over his skin, drenching him.
The chain holding the eye snapped and the links rattled as it fell to the bed.
The eyeâit melded into his flesh, around his heart.
He didn't have to look to know that it had become a part of him.
He shouted again as more muscle and bone shifted, expanded. His jeans and T-shirt cut into his skin. Sounds of ripping and tearing accompanied the feel of clothing shredding and falling away from his body.
The agony went on and on and on.
Finally, the last of the pain faded and Darkwolf slumped on the bed. His mind spun and his body burned hot enough that the sweat began to dry on his skin.
Strength replaced the weakness that had possessed him during the transformation. He rose to a sitting position on the bed, his mind suddenly clear and pain-free for the first time since he'd found the eye on the shores of Ireland.
Years. Years ago.
He looked down at himself and saw purple smoke mixed with a golden glow over his now massive, naked body.
Power flowed through him. Terrible and great power that carried with it heat and anger and the desire to harm. Something. Someone.
Darkwolf breathed at a normal pace but his heart beat stronger than it had before. The sparkles faded as he looked down at his chest, where the eye had been.
It was gone. No, not gone. It permanently encased his heart now.
He closed his eyes and knowledge expanded in his brain. Memories that weren't his own flashed in succession through his mind. Images of wars and power and murder.
The knowledge drew him and he put aside the memories
that weren't his own. Instead he focused on what the eyeâthe former eyeâwas telling him.
that weren't his own. Instead he focused on what the eyeâthe former eyeâwas telling him.
Where in Balor the power and magic had been contained in the eye, in Darkwolf it had transformed and overtaken his heart. The powers had morphed, too, changing so that Darkwolf's powers were different than Balor's had been.
Darkwolf looked at his arms and hands. What was he capable of now? Did he have the power of a god?
Elizabeth made a sound and Darkwolf turned his head in her direction. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted. He had grown to a height tall enough that he had to look down at herâher small, fragile human shell.
Darkwolf's lips curled into a vicious smile as Elizabeth said in a horrified tone, “What have you done?”
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