Sorceress of Faith (5 page)

Their
sibling relationship had actually improved. If he wanted her with him, he knew
all he had to do was call.

Tuck
rattled in his cage and brought her back to the moment. She studied the
pentagram and found her pulse thumping fast. Andrew had phoned just before the
ritual. Surely that was a bit of magic in itself. Further, he was trying
another new program—could this ritual influence that? She didn’t want to think about
what Andrew would do when the disease became more debilitating.

Andrew’s
telephone call had thrown Marian’s timing off. She’d have to hurry through the
first part of the ritual, use her notes on her PDA. Not perfect. Perhaps she
should delay the ritual until next month? She wanted to, to ensure it would go
more smoothly, but she dared not.

She
walked around the star to her bedroom, stripped out of the soft cotton pants
and shirt and folded them. Then she freed her still-damp hair and fluffed it,
enjoying the feel of the strands as well as the slight tugging on her scalp as
she ran her fingers to the shoulder-length ends.

Returning
to the living room, she lit the candles, drew the outer circle, summoned
guardian spirits. Palpable energy charged around her. The chanting she’d heard
in her dreams sounded as if it came from her stereo, until she couldn’t tell if
it was real or only echoed in her mind.

At
the last minute, on impulse, she put the plastic ball with her hamster into the
center of the pentacle, too. After all, when Andrew’s and her own life changed,
so would Tuck’s, even if he only dimly sensed the alteration. He was an
essential part of her life, so he should be included.

She
stepped into the center of the pentagram and lifted her voice in counterpoint
to the music. Lightning flashed. Incredible. Nothing like this had ever
happened before. Energy raced through Marian, making her feel powerful, like a
goddess, and she laughed. A bright carnelian-red ribbon of light unrolled, then
curled around Marian and Tuck. She stared at it in disbelief.

She
grabbed Tuck’s plastic sphere. With one small tug, they were swept through a
hole, like thread through the eye of a needle.

Power
spiked and whirled and changed. She lost her connection with Mother Earth. That
deepest connection she’d felt all her life, snipped.

They
were somewhere else, in a wind-whipped corridor of dust brown. A corridor to
where?

Tuck’s
ball was torn from her grasp and she screamed. She looked, listened, reached
with all of her senses, flailed arms and legs and couldn’t find him. He’d been
her companion for two years. She cried and grieved.

Adrift
and alone in pummeling, whistling winds, she felt terror rip through her. Felt
no links to anything. Not the earth, not the trees, not the moon or stars. All
that she’d recently realized had spoken to her of her place and her life had
vanished.

She
reached mentally, emotionally for Andrew. Screamed and heard silence again.

Nothing.

3

S
he found herself
on a cold floor.

Marian
didn’t believe her senses. It felt as if she was on stone, not the threadbare
carpet in her apartment. The scent of the room changed from lily of the valley
to jasmine and sandalwood. As she inhaled, the air felt more humid. The space
around her seemed larger, sounds echoing.

When
she heard ragged breathing not her own, she squeezed her eyes shut, sure she
was dreaming. Maybe experiencing out-of-body travel, though that had never
happened before. She
must
be safe in her apartment. She didn’t want to
think otherwise.

People
started talking—not in English but in what sounded like mangled French. As part
of pleasing her mother, Marian had learned French and spoke it like a native.
This wasn’t true French. She thought her heart would jump from her chest it
pounded so hard. This couldn’t be happening. If she kept her eyes closed, it
would all go away and she’d be home and safe and never dabble with magic ever
again.

With
one singing ripple of chimes, her whole body arched involuntarily. Despite her
will, her eyelids flew open.

A
circle of faces peered down at her, all slightly Asian in appearance with dark
eyes set in golden-toned skin. Marian gaped. An older woman with golden streaks
of hair at each temple and compressed lips held up both hands palms outwards.

“Vel
coom,” she said.

With
only a little deciphering, Marian translated the word into “Welcome.” She
wasn’t sure what to do. She still couldn’t connect to Mother Earth, let alone
Andrew. Of course this whole thing could be a hallucination, or worse, madness.

What
should she do?

“Vel
coom!” the woman shouted, gesturing for Marian to get up.

Why
didn’t the woman help her? Marian squinted and saw flowing lines of—energy?
electricity? the Force? between her and the circle of richly robed figures.
There were at least sixteen people surrounding her, evenly spaced along the
large circle, pairs dressed alike. Swords were sheathed at their hips. From
what she could see, the figure on the floor beneath her was a huge pentacle—a
star in a circle—larger than hers, about fifteen feet.

She
licked her lips and felt the dampness. The floor was cold flagstones under her,
not carpet. Her breath caught in her throat as her mind spun with possibilities
that she really didn’t want to consider, sorting and analyzing. Her brain told
her she wasn’t on Earth, and she was in the midst of strong magic.

And
she was lying in a big circular stone room, with wooden rafters and high
windows around the top.

She
wanted to think of anything except that she was in a different place. Naked.

Just
the thought of her nudity made her flush—probably from her toes to her
hairline.

The
people continued to stare.

Since
it didn’t look like they were going to approach, it was time to put reality to
the test and rise and—she gulped—pretend she wasn’t ashamed of her body.

Marian
stood with shoulders back, hips tucked, stomach sucked in, hoping her blush
wasn’t as red as it felt. Keeping within one point of the star, she walked
about five feet to where the others stood, outside the circle of flowing red energy-lines.
Visible magic. If she weren’t so scared, she’d be impressed. Everything looked
fascinating,
would be
fascinating, if she could engage more of her mind
than her emotions. But dreams ran on emotions. This had to be a dream.

Her
brain said it was, but her senses contradicted that notion. Her emotions
spiraled out of control until she controlled the panic gritting her teeth.
Act
logically! Observe, at least
.

The
women were all as tall as she—at least five foot eight—the men taller. They all
had black hair, dark eyes and golden skin—and silver or golden streaks of hair
at one or both temples.

Marian
pointed to a gray cloak a woman wore and made the motion of swirling it around
her. Unfortunately, in response to her actions most of the men’s gazes locked
on her breasts. She wanted to melt into the floor.

Marian
cleared her throat. Was this real? Why were so many people here if she’d only
needed one teacher? “Where? Um—when? I don’t know—May I have the cloak,
please?”

The
woman who’d spoken earlier stared at her, frowning.

All
she wanted to do was find a corner and hide. That thought reminded her of Tuck
and she forced back tears. He was gone. What chance did a hamster in a plastic
ball have in the winds of that corridor?

This
experience had already cost her more than she’d expected, Tuck.

But
she’d stood around long enough. She’d act as if this was real, try and figure
out what was going on, get her act together. Be bolder, take action. Take
control.

Ka-Boom!
Thunder rattled
the silver gong at the edge of her vision. The gong responded with a low
echoing tone. A flash of light blinded her. Heat and vibration struck her, sent
her flat to the pavement again.

She
blinked but could not see. She rolled to her side.

Arreth!
The word rang
strange in her head, but the image of herself, still on the floor in the point
of a carnelian-red pentagram, teased her mind.
Stay?
Cloth brushed
against her ankle—someone was in the pentacle with her!

Swords
rasped from scabbards.

A
scream bubbled from her lips but emerged as a weak cry. So much for being bold.
She’d try again in a minute. Strong fingers curved over her shoulder, squeezed
in simple comfort, almost she thought she heard a tune. She sat up, choked,
coughed. The hand moved from her shoulder to her nape, patted her upper back,
then left, taking the funny music in her ears with it.

Arreth.
Stay
,
the masculine voice whispered in her mind. Telepathy. She believed in magic,
sort of, she’d just never experienced
so much
of it.

Then
his hands closed around her upper arms, and she was lifted and pulled back into
the center of the pentagram. Her ears rang. Again the hands fell from her and
the music stopped.

Her
vision began to clear. Beyond the afterimages of floating neon blobs, she saw
the rich robes of those surrounding her. They held swords pointed at the man
standing beside her.

But
their gazes slid over to her. She got the idea they were fascinated by her pale
skin that turned pink, red, then back to white.

She
blinked, then looked up at the man. He was about six foot four. His face was
broad at the forehead, with wide streaks of silver at both temples, emphasized
by the golden headband he wore. His lips were full and mobile and dusky. He
smiled down at her and offered his hand. She met his eyes. They were deep, deep
blue in a tanned face.

A
jolt of prophetic foreknowledge sizzled to her center. Uh oh.
Major, major
MISTAKE!

This
wasn’t her teacher. This was her doom.

T
he wide eyes of
the Exotique woman drew Jaquar. They were a lighter shade than his own and for
the first time in his life he found blue eyes beautiful.

A
flicker in her gaze and the Power pulsing around her were signs she was
experiencing a vision. His touch on her mind was too superficial to share her
natural melody, but it was sweet.

The
Exotique’s full mouth lured him as much as did her soul-tune. He shook the
sensual thought from his head, strove to ignore her nudity. She looked
delicious, but he had a use for her and it wasn’t as a lover. Still, he smiled
his most charming smile, hoping she’d trust him.

When
he’d touched her, a lance of pure desire from their mingled energies had shot
straight to his groin.
No
. Despite what his body wanted, he could not
allow himself even affection for her. If he had sex with the Exotique, there
was a chance they’d bond. He couldn’t risk that. She was the weapon of
vengeance he’d set loose on the Dark like a blazing arrow. For his own peace of
mind, he dared not become attached to her.

“Jaquar
Dumont,” Swordmarshall Thealia Germaine said flatly from the circle of
Marshalls surrounding them, obviously unhappy that he’d shown up uninvited.

He
paid little attention to the Marshalls, watching as his Exotique crossed to the
pentacle, squatted and touched the flowing magical red lines. Sparks flew, and
she recoiled.

Standing,
she slowly extended her arm through the barrier of magic. It didn’t hurt her.
Jaquar let out a relieved breath. The Summoning had worked, bringing an
innately powerful mage from the Exotique land to Lladrana. A woman whose power
would be potent here.

She
tugged on the gray cloak of one of the female Marshalls. With raised eyebrows
and a smile, the Marshall gave it to the Exotique. She donned the cape, then
looked around, very serious, examining the circular Temple, scrutinizing the
altar with the rainbow crystal lamps that also served as chimes, and the huge
silver gong beside it.

With
narrowed eyes, she gazed at him and where he stood in the center of the
pentagram, the place of Power. She gestured for him to move away. Demanded
something in a language close to, but not Lladranan. “Leave…go…home.”

Jaquar
smiled and shook his head. She scowled and marched back to stand in the center
of the pentacle with him, muttering what seemed to be her own words of Power.
But they would do no good. The Marshalls had closed the hole between worlds.

She
was still close to him and Jaquar had trouble ignoring her softness, warmth and
unusual fragrance. Her nudity under the cloak was impossible to forget.

“Dumont!”
Thealia snapped. “We did not expect anyone to use this pentacle today except
the Exotique. You of the Tower should leave the
entire
Summoning to us.”

He
inclined his head and took the offensive. “Greetings, Swordmarshall. We of the
Tower Community thank you for this Summoning. However, we thought Exotique
Alyeka would be leading this ritual.” He was friends with the other Exotique—he
might have been able to persuade her to release the new lady into his care.