Sorceress of Faith (31 page)

Jaquar
arrived and knocked on her door. He was dressed in a cape the color and texture
of duct tape and wore the stupidest hat Marian had ever seen, low crowned and
broad brimmed but not nearly the elegant proportions of a gaucho’s.
Furthermore, it was made of some horrible gray material that reminded Marian
suspiciously of the texture of “soul-sucker” that she’d seen in Alexa’s and
Bossgond’s images.

She
drew back a little.

“I
was right. It’s raining and there are lightning storms at the shore. This storm
will provide you with good practice with water
and
fire,” Jaquar said.
“Rain or running water is easier to work with than pools or even the tide.” His
smile was warm. “Do you have a rain cape?”

“Actually,
I do.” It was still marked with yellow birds as befitted Bossgond’s Apprentice,
but she didn’t care about that. She went into the bedroom and pulled it on. As
she crossed back into the living room/study she noticed that Jaquar had not
stepped over the threshold, and her heart began to pound. She hadn’t invited
him in, and he respected her enough that he hadn’t entered without her asking.
So different from some of the men she knew. Like Jack Wilse.

His
head tilted to the side and she saw his nostrils flare. He smiled again. “The
place holds your fragrance. From what I can see, you’ve made it your own.
Good.”

“Where’s
Tuck? I thought he wanted to go outside today—and with at least one of us
watching him, he will be protected.”

Jaquar
pulled a face. “In the rain? He was disgusted when he saw it on the windows. I
think he’s rearranging his hoard.”

“Always
a hamster’s favorite thing—besides eating. They are originally desert animals.”

“Ah.”
Jaquar touched her shoulder and the cape rippled. When the fabric finished
moving, it was plain gray, no pattern of little yellow birds.

Marian
chuckled. “Thanks.” She pulled the hood of her cape over her head.

“You
are welcome. You’ll need a hat to keep the frink—” He stopped, a considering
look coming to his eyes. “Perhaps not. Frinks don’t seem to fall around
Exotiques.” He offered his hand, and she took it.

Once
again, she sensed that he’d experienced an emotional sea change in the time
they’d been apart.

He
opened the door and they stepped out. The odd pinging on the small flagstone
patio stopped. Blinking rain from her lashes, Marian noticed the rain looked
less dense than before.

“Lovely,
no more raining frinks,” Jaquar said in satisfaction. His grin flashed. “There
are definitely more benefits to having you around than just looking at your
lovely person, Marian.” He squeezed her hand.

On
the way to the beach, Jaquar quizzed her about her studies in a casual manner
that made her feel as if he wasn’t judging her or holding to strict
expectations—not nearly as harsh as she judged herself, and his standards for
her seemed lower than her own. Was she being too hard on herself again? Too
concerned with perfection? Probably. No one could say that Jaquar wasn’t an
excellent teacher or a very Powerful Circlet.

Now
and then they paused while Jaquar patiently instructed her in Rain Power—once
when it was pouring, once in a drizzle, once in a light shower. He was
right—rain in motion was a lot easier to manipulate than still water.

Finally
they reached the beach and it wasn’t more than a minute before lightning struck
a few yards away. Marian itched to get her hands on it, wrap her mind around
Lightning Power.

Instead,
Jaquar made her practice with storm-tossed waves and tide pools rippling with
rain for what seemed like hours.

Then
a roar came from overhead and lightning struck close, and Marian lost her
concentration and the bit of rainstorm she’d been managing.

The
lightning sang to her—to her mind, but even more, to her blood. She knew it,
each crackle, each beyond-hearing hiss and zing. Even before Jaquar showed her,
mind-to-mind and by demonstration, how to weave it into patterns, how to Send
it, Marian knew the Song. Linking hands with Jaquar’s, he called it and
controlled it, forking it down beyond their feet, sending streaks across the
sky.

She’d
never felt anything like it—
nothing
so Powerful, so satisfying as
playing with lightning, creating designs. It was as if she’d taken the
electricity inside to sizzle in her blood. As if she
was
lightning.

He’d
start a Song to teach her, and she’d pick up the tones, the rhythm, the melody
and sing herself. Marian’s Song of Lightning, the words more facile on her
tongue than his.

So,
eyes narrowed as if he gauged her every note, he set her tasks, and though she
knew they were tests, she just laughed. Nothing came easier to her in her life
than taming lightning.

She
danced it across the sky, sent it from cloud to cloud, from cloud to ground, to
rock, splitting a boulder. She made tiny sparks, long forks, curtains of the
stuff.

Spectacular.

She
played, she designed, she drew and dismissed. And finally as the rain pounded
down and she’d done all he’d said, she whirled around in the wind and faced
him, grinning.

He
smiled back.

But
as she took stock, she realized something in the Song of Lightning was missing.
Something she hadn’t grasped. It was not complete.

Marian
lifted her face to him, questioning.

“You
need practice
inside
a storm.” He gestured to a cliff. “From there we
could step into the wind and let it take us through the storm front.” His eyes
had deepened to dark blue and the expression was pure challenge.

But
Marian had always loved storms. “Ayes,” she agreed in Lladranan.

Jaquar
grinned and held out his hand. She put her hand in his, liked the connection
when his long, elegant fingers folded over hers.

“Let’s
go!”

They
ran up the hill. She wasn’t in the best of shape, but Jaquar matched his steps
to hers, not dragging her, not pushing her. She liked that, too.

He
led her to a huge rock jutting out in space. Though she wasn’t usually bothered
by heights, the wind was strong and another large curtain of rain was marching
closer.

Jaquar
stepped forward and closed her cape, smoothed it over her body, sealing it. The
Lightning Song was inside her and transformed into sexual sparks. She trembled
beneath his touch. A smile hovered on his lips. He kissed her nose but didn’t
speak above the rain, the thunder.

Instead
he moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle.

What
next?
she asked, because there
had
to be a next.

Sing
with me
.
He took up a spiraling chant.

She
followed.

When
the melodic line was established, he dropped his voice to harmonize. At the
next break in the chant, he said, “Ready?” There was a tone in his voice that
told her he’d step back if she wanted.

“Ayes,”
she said.

“We’ll
do this together.” He started a low, intricate chant.

After
a few measures, she felt the cadence of it, figured out the twisting chords.

“Now!”
he cried. A gust of wind blew them into the air.

For
an instant, she was only conscious of his arms around her—the strength of him,
physically and in his psi Power. His body was pressed to hers and many Songs
wrapped them both. His Song and hers and theirs, and the Song of Mue Island,
the Song of the Air and the Storm and the Ocean. All rang in her mind like an
orchestra.

Then
the sheer magnificence of the storm, of their wild ride inside the clouds,
whirling with the wind made her shriek with excited laughter. Oh, she could
experience this
forever
. The glory of it was beyond human comprehension.
She felt the vibration of Jaquar’s chest behind her and didn’t know whether he
laughed with her or Sang, and it didn’t matter.

They
followed the storm winds for a while, then a black fist of a cloud loomed,
could not be avoided. Something about it chilled her. It didn’t
feel
right. When they were in it a fog dulled her senses. She clamped her hands on
Jaquar’s wrists and told herself she could feel his muscle, sinew, bone under
her fingers when she doubted, when her fingers grew too cold to tell. The cloud
battered her with a mean sleet she writhed to avoid, ducking her head. The
Songs faded to a horrible hum like a high-pitched cry of a straining car
engine, a series of
pings
that were nearly beyond her hearing.

She
felt pummeled for an endless time, then they dropped—straight into a rain cloud
where sweet water drenched her, slicked her hair, stuck her magical gown tight
to her body. She could hear the Songs again, and Jaquar shouting in her ear.

“Look
ahead,” he cried. “Lightning. Do you want to try and ride it?”

All
the joy in the storm, the reckless energy around her throbbed through her on a
rising tide of music. “Yes,” she screamed. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Now
we call the lightning and
ride
it!

19

A
flash of fire
rolled over them, encased them. Took them.

Whisked
them up with the speed of light.

Snatched
her breath so she couldn’t sing.

They
dipped, fell, and Jaquar’s voice came rich and deep.

They
spun in a sea of electrical sparks. In heavy, dewy clouds.

Curving
his hand around hers, he lifted them, spread their fingers, palm out. Marian
followed his movement.

Call
the lightning now!

She
did, so again they were swept away, shot from cloud into night, plummeting
downward.

Jaquar
held a note, Marian joined him.

And
time slowed.

They
were on the bolt itself, shooting from the cloud, across the sea to other
clouds.

The
speed was awesome, something she shouldn’t have been able to experience.
Couldn’t rationally explain.

Jaquar
stopped singing. And Marian lifted her voice and
sang
and they rode the
lightning.

Finally
a huge arcing stream, thicker than both of their bodies, caught them, sent them
rushing down to land, darkness punctuated by city lights.

As
they zoomed down the lightning, Jaquar guided them so they lit in a field and
avoided the town. The rich soil had been turned, ready for planting, and it,
with the scent of ozone and the feel of the lightning still fizzing in her
bloodstreams, made her crave sex. With Jaquar and only Jaquar. She didn’t want
to think, didn’t want to weigh the pros and cons, didn’t want to speculate what
consequences might occur from their coupling. She wanted to tear his clothes
off.

So
she did. She shoved off his cloak, grabbed his tunic and ripped, and he stood
staring at her. She yanked at his pants and then he was clothed only in a
loincloth. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of him. It was raining,
slicking his muscles, droplets defining them. He was beautiful.

She’d
never seen a better proportioned man—broad shoulders, lean hips, muscular
thighs…The pounding of the rain around her thundered in her ears. He stood tall
and sexy and, in this instant, hers. She knew it.

Her
hands curved over his shoulders, then his nostrils flared, his expression went
wild and he yanked her to him. His body was hot and hard…and ready. Then his
mouth was on hers, wet and demanding. She opened to him.

They
slipped and fell to the ground, landing softly. She didn’t know if that had
been his Power or hers, or Amee’s, but she heard overwhelming orchestral chords
that combined into a pulsing, rhythmic drumbeat. A sexual beat. She cried out
as her own clothes disappeared and warm rain slipped down her body in a sensual
caress.

His
hands were on her body, sliding, stroking, probing, the sensations so intense
she could only cling to him, yearn for him.

And
his tongue was in her mouth and she was tasting him as he took her. Their
bodies met and melded, arched and twisted. Their minds touched and linked and
shattered with pleasure.

Marian
lay under his weight, panting, enjoying the lovely Song, the sluicing rain, the
heat of him. She’d never felt so abandoned, so free. Her mind had totally
blanked, not a rational thought to be found.

She
laughed.

A
tremor went through him. His head was next to hers and he whispered, “Marian.”
The richness of his tone, the lilt of it made her quiver.

Long
moments passed as they lay together. Finally he shifted beneath her and she let
the reason she’d banished in experiencing the physicality of the now, rush back
to fill her head.

The
rain had stopped. She used a hook of Wind to lift and hold her, dry a bit of
ground and set her on her feet. With a three-note spell, her dress—warm and
dry—slid over her head and draped her. It was a little harder to find her new
underwear, and when she did, she drew on the panties, but used a pocket in her
gown to hold the bra. The dress bodice was doing just fine as a foundation
garment for her breasts.