The Spell (26 page)

Chapter Seventeen:
“The Spell”

The bonfire was burning hot and high now, its flames causing the hooded figures standing around it to cast long, wavering shadows across the ground. Seth looked from the warlocks to the single Akyri standing off to one side, and then to the body laid out on the stone slab before the fire.

The werewolves had buried it in a shallow grave, no doubt planning to go back later and retrieve it in order to burn it to ash. That was how the Council disposed of its evidence – leave no trace. But werewolf ash would do Seth little good, so he’d located the shallow grave and taken the body himself.

Gabriel Phelan’s tall, normally strong body had seen better days. Malcolm Cole must have had a wealth of fury built up toward him to have inflicted the damage he had. The fact that he had defeated Phelan at all was impressive. But he hadn’t just defeated him; he’d taken him completely out of the game with a dagger through the eye. Seth had to smile as he paced around the altar looking down at the torn and broken remains. He sort of wished he’d been there to see it.

But no matter.

Cole had done him a favor. For months now, Gabriel Phelan had been supplying Seth with a steady run of werewolf blood. It was something no other vampire had ever attempted due to the fact that vampires wanted to remain under the radar and out of the Council’s eye. Thus far, no one in the werewolf community knew that vampires even existed.

True, young Charlie had seen Seth’s eyes glow red a few months ago. And she’d seen his fangs. But it had been broad daylight and she’d had no idea what he was – probably still didn’t. Granted, the Overseer might have put two and two together and hazarded a guess that he was the offspring of an Akyri and a warlock. But as of yet, the fact that the Offspring were vampires was the world’s best kept secret. Or one of them anyway.

Gabriel Phelan had gone rogue three months ago when he’d attempted to take a marked dormant from her destined mate. Seth had pounced on the opportunity to strike a deal with the wayward, notorious alpha. In exchange for his services as a warlock, Phelan would provide him with blood.

Every few nights, Phelan would allow Seth to feed from one of his men. What Seth had never told him, but what the alpha had figured out on his own anyway, was that once a vampire fed from an individual, a certain amount of influence remained. That individual was never the same. Depending on how strong the victim’s will was, he or she could be controlled to some extent by the vampire who fed from them. Phelan no doubt concluded this when he caught the remnant scent of tainted blood or magic lingering around the fed-from wolves.

As a result, Phelan and Seth had been playing a very silent game of cat and mouse. Phelan continued to provide wolves – but wolves he no longer trusted or that he considered weak. And Seth would drink from them. And then Phelan would kill them. For two and a half months, Seth had been both building up a resistance in his blood, and changing it at the same time. It was making him very strong in many different ways.

However, thus far the only wolves he’d fed from had been betas. They were strong, but they were second tier. Phelan’s death represented an opportunity he’d never thought he would have. A chance at an alpha’s blood.

Gabriel Phelan never would have agreed to this on his own. At the moment, though, he didn’t have a choice – and that was what plastered the smile to Seth’s handsome, youthful face. Seth’s gaze slipped to the medallion Phelan now wore; it hadn’t been there when he was alive. Seth had placed it there. It was a simple crystal, however it was perfect in its clarity, and it was hollow. It would serve as a phylactery, a “Vessel,” as warlocks called it, for the vitality that would give Gabriel Phelan back his life.

Seth glanced up at the sky, judging the position of the moon in its setting of black. Fog rolled across the ground and interrupted his view, but he waited patiently. When it was gone, he nodded and raised his arms. The warlocks surrounding the fire turned to him as one.

It’s another fault of human nature and its expectations that a difficult or powerful spell should be complicated or require hours of prostrating or mumbling and hundreds of ingredients thrown into some sort of cauldron. Non-magic users knew nothing about magic. It confused them and eluded them, and so they strove to make it out to be as confounding as possible. It made them feel less stupid.

The truth was, many of the most powerful spells in existence were some of the most simple. All it required was the will, the right word or two, and a being strong enough to cast it. In this instance, it would have taken several beings strong enough to withstand the pull of magic. Fortunately, Seth’s constant intake of werewolf blood had fortified him in this manner as well. His magic was stronger, as was the rest of him. The other warlocks were present as a precaution; it wouldn’t do to awaken the power and not feed it. Messing up on a spell like this was a very bad idea. In the unlikely event that Seth should fail – the others would pick up where he left off.

Seth closed his eyes and concentrated. He reached out for the power his mother had given him through birth and felt it answer his call. The night grew silent as the animals in their trees and in the ground sensed a change in the air. The fire crackled furiously, bothered by something on the breeze. The fog cleared around them, roiling back as if by forces unseen, and the moon shone brightly into the fire-lit clearing.

Seth opened his eyes. He felt them glowing hot in his face; the world had been cast into red. He spoke a single, powerful word and the earth shook beneath them. There was a popping sound, followed by a sonic boom that traveled through the ground – and the bon fire coiled in on itself. It seemed to condense, growing smaller and hotter, tighter and brighter. Until, finally it was reduced to a spinning stream of blue-white light that hovered for a moment above the charred sticks and logs – and then shot toward the crystal that hung on a leather strap around Gabriel Phelan’s neck.

It entered the crystal as if through a funnel. The crystal began to glow. The light grew brighter and brighter until at last, the fire that had been raging moments ago was completely put out, and the crystal’s light became too bright to see.

Seth shut his eyes, knowing what was happening without having to look. The light would flash once, blinding anyone foolish enough to still be watching. And then it would die down and what would remain was a crystal pendant that pulsed with the beat of its wearer’s heart.

Seth waited as the flash infused his shut lids with a wash of red. Then he opened his eyes. As he’d been expecting, the crystal around Phelan’s neck pulsed with a steady and strong blue-white light. Gabriel Phelan was completely healed. He looked now, in this temporary sleep, as he had in life. Seth had performed the spell before. He knew that there was always something, even if it was very minor, that would be visibly different about the Raised. However, at the moment, there didn’t seem to be a single thing different about Phelan.

Seth stepped back from the altar and waited. The warlocks surrounding the smoking, put-out fire also waited, equally silent. After several long minutes, Gabriel’s lips parted. Seth raised his head.

Phelan drew in a hard, harsh breath that filled his lungs and arched his rigid body away from the altar. And then he opened his eyes and slowly settled back down, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm. Seth watched him carefully for several long seconds and then steeled himself to move closer to the altar. The newly Raised could be unpredictable at times. It was all of those neurons within their brain reconnecting at once. There were often aftershocks.

Ah, there it is,
he thought as he gazed down at the handsome, perfect visage of the notorious alpha werewolf.
There
was the small difference, the sign that things were changed. Gabriel’s right eye was as blue as ever, cold as frozen sapphires. But his left, where Malcolm Cole had fatally pierced him, was green. Emerald green. It was fitting. Cole’s eyes were green, and he’d been the one to take Phelan’s life.

“You’re more resourceful than I imagined,” Phelan said, staring up at the warlock who stood beside him. “I was having a good dream,” he added. And then he smiled, flashing his sharp fangs. “You interrupted it.”

“I can imagine,” Seth retorted softly. He felt a wave of weakness then, a consequence of the spell’s draining power. But he hid it well and stepped back once more. “Welcome back,” he said, his tone cold.

Phelan sat up, glanced around the clearing, and then turned to land Seth with an enigmatic look. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes, which had always been uncomfortable to meet due to the power behind them, were even more so now. At one time in human history, they would have been considered the eyes of a demon.

“I’m assuming you have some clever reason for wanting me alive,” Gabriel said as he leapt off of the stone platform and landed on his boots with unnatural grace. His clothes were new; Seth had replaced the torn and tattered remains of his garments before bringing him back. It wasn’t that he cared whether the alpha werewolf was dressed well; it was that the Raising spell worked better when evidence of a person’s death was removed.

“The terms of your existence have changed,” Seth told him, wanting to set out the ground rules right away. “You’re alive because I have brought you back. You will remain alive as long as I do and as long as I do not wish you otherwise.” He stopped and glanced at the pulsing crystal around Phelan’s neck. “I would also take very good care of that crystal if I were you.”

Gabriel Phelan regarded him in silence for a moment – and then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. “How long have you been waiting for an opportunity such as this, Offspring?” he asked, chuckling through his words. “If you were a woman, you’d be wet.”

“And you would no doubt have me in chains,” Seth retorted coldly. And then he sighed. He was so weak. “Don’t die again any time soon; I’m tapped out in that department. To that end, I need blood and this time, I will take yours.”

Phelan didn’t seem to miss a beat. “Of course you will,” he replied, his different colored eyes glittering in the moonlight. “Try not to come in your pants when you do,” he said as he began to roll up the right sleeve of his button-down white shirt.

Seth had to smile at that. Taking the werewolf’s blood was bound to be a pleasurable experience, even if it wouldn’t be enough to replenish the raising power he’d used. It would still feel good – not necessarily because Seth was fond of the alpha in any way, but because the blood was so powerful. However, there was only one being on the planet who could possibly bring Seth to a state of ecstasy. And she was out of reach. For now.

Gabriel gave him an enigmatic smile and held out his arm, wrist-up, his hand fisted.

Seth looked once into his eyes – and then struck without further ado. He blurred into motion, knowing he would move too fast even for the werewolf to follow. His hands wrapped around the alpha’s wrist as he sank his fangs into the pulsing vein beneath.

Gabriel’s crystal warped with a strong, erratic pulse as Seth pulled hard on the Raised alpha’s blood. He knew it wouldn’t kill him, though. Nothing would now. Nothing would kill Phelan but the destruction of either Seth because he was the warlock who had raised him – or the Vessel he had placed around Gabriel’s neck.

Phelan’s blood was exactly as Seth had imagined it would be. It was what he ultimately needed most. With the blood came the werewolf’s power. He could feel his cells morphing, warping, taking on a different nature. Gabriel Phelan possessed one of the most valued abilities among not only the werewolf community, but any supernatural community in the world. He was able to change forms.

And now Seth would be able to as well.

Beside him, he felt Phelan falter, swaying ever so slightly. He smiled against the man’s wrist, thoroughly enjoying the fact that he was reducing the infamous werewolf in any way. Phelan leaned against the altar behind him, but he didn’t pull away. He was too strong. Too proud.

Fool,
Seth thought. He pulled his fangs from Gabriel’s wrist and let him go. Phelan lowered his arm and calmly rolled his sleeve back down. Before the material covered the area where Seth had bitten him, he saw the red puncture wounds disappear.

“What now?” Phelan asked.

“Now we finish what we started and perform the dormancy spell.” Seth casually wiped the extra blood from his bottom lip and turned away from him to face the tree line across the clearing. “Right on time,” he said.

Jason Alberich stepped out of the shadows, his eyes smoldering jades in a very handsome, incredibly pissed-off face. He said not a word and strode toward them.

Seth turned and flashed Phelan a grin. “A deal’s a deal, after all.”

*****

Charlie fidgeted nervously across the room from her mate. The marks on the insides of her arms were heating up. She could feel them working beneath the leather bands she wore. She chanced a quick glance at Malcolm and the enforcers he was speaking with. They’d just finished briefing Lucas and Danny, whom an entire coven of magic users had barely managed to pull out of the warlock’s private chamber. Transport magic hadn’t worked, but retrieval magic had done the job by focusing on Danny’s brightly pulsing essence and yanking it out. Now Malcolm was squaring away remaining defense details, making sure everyone knew where everyone was, that sort of thing.

He was a very bright man, her mate. His mind was always working. She admired him for a moment more and then turned toward the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her. It was night, but the moon shone bright and her werewolf vision was able to make everything out with crystal clarity.

The Oregon coast stretched out in either direction, cold, wet, misty and beautiful. Charlie normally would have been transfixed by it. However, right now she was horribly preoccupied. Carefully, she peeled back the edge of one of her leather bracers and peered underneath. The mark was growing redder.

Any minute now, she would be zapped out of the Council’s guest room and sent to the scene of some horrible, bloody crime that hadn’t yet happened. Normally, Dannai and Lily would meet her there and the three of them would handle the trauma together.