The Wizard King (22 page)

Zach’s teeth ground together. “Which means he’s drained someone else and is using their soul to fuel the spell.”

Gen’s shoulders slumped. “Most likely, yes.”

A hand landed on her shoulder. “This isn’t your fault, Gen.”

She leaned back against Gareth, her head resting wearily against his shoulder. He took her weight easily, holding her up when all she wanted to do was collapse. “He’s family.”

“Only by blood, not by heart or soul.” A soft kiss landed on top of her head. “We’re your family now.”

Goddess, the things her man said. If she wasn’t so weary she’d be better able to hold back the tears. “I should have stopped them before now. I should have…” She was so tired, and so angry with her family for what they’d done.

Gareth turned her around and pulled her close, massaging her neck with gentle strokes. “You’re twenty-two years old, Gen, and you’ve become an Own despite your father and brothers. Hell, despite all your relatives. There’s no fucking way you could have stopped them without help. Stopping Davis almost broke you, and you had help.”

She snorted, too tired to care how indelicate the sound was. “Some Own I’ve turned out to be. I can’t even protect my mate.”

Muted growls shook his chest. “Then maybe it’s about time your mate took care of you.”

She patted his chest. “You’ve been doing an admirable job so far, but this task is mine to do.”

Gareth sighed. “Let me help, Gen. Please. He’s expecting an Own, not me. It’s possible I can break through whatever is blocking Zach.”

“No offense, but Zach is so strong I’m not sure anyone could throw more at Hugh’s protections than he can.”

“It couldn’t hurt to try.”

He was so stubborn. “All right. Let’s see what you can do.”

Gareth let her go and stepped over to the map of the United States they had laid out on the workroom table. Now that the Beckett mate spell had been completed, Gareth was free to cast spells again. He picked up the scrying crystal, eyed it for a moment, and placed it aside. “Hold on. Let me do this my way.”

Gareth began pulling out some incense, crystals and, most interesting of all, a scrying mirror. He set the mirror gently next to the map, smiling fondly at the black glass framed in silver. It wasn’t hard to make a scrying mirror. You simply took plate glass and painted one side with black enamel until no light shone through it. You then protected the back with black felt and framed it, usually in black. The frame could be anything from a simple wooden one to an ornately scrolled Victorian design. Gareth’s was very ornate, borderline feminine, the silver frame glittering with inset emeralds.

Zach laughed. “You still have that?”

Gareth’s cheeks turned red. “Shut up, asshole.”

“That was his eighteenth birthday present from Chris.”

“I swear, I will end you.” But Gareth was fighting a grin as he set a black candle in a matching silver holder before the scrying mirror. The silver holder had the symbol of the Horned God embedded in it. He meant to call the Lord of the Hunt, then, to aid in his scrying.

“His girlfriend tried to steal it. She said it would look perfect in her bedroom, she just needed to change the black mirror for a ‘real’ one.”

“She was jealous.” Gareth’s glare at his brother held no real heat.

“It’s
so
purty, and curly, and girly.” Zach batted his lashes at his big brother, dodging away when Gareth took a swipe at him. “After we scry together, we should go get a mani-pedi.”

“Can we talk Hello Kitty?”

Zach shuddered. “You know I hate that creepy-ass cat.” He shot Gen a horrified look. “It’s all big head, tiny body, and it stares at you with that big-eyed, expressionless face. And don’t get me started on the bow.”

Gareth began to sing. “Who loves flowers in the sun or a party just for one—”

“No!” Zach stuck his fingers in his ears, running from the room while yelling “lalalalalala!”

Gareth began to laugh. “Works every time.”

“What was that?”

“The Hello Kitty theme song.”

“You’re evil.”

“Yup, that’s me. I should add that cat to the Beckett family crest just to watch Zach flip out every time he has to use it.”

“You have a family crest?” That was news to Gen.

Gareth nodded absently as he finished his preparations, lighting both the candle and the incense. The incense seemed to be a blend of sandalwood, allspice, coriander and cedar, the scent warm and woodsy. Perfect for calling on the God of the Hunt. “Yup. We were nobility, a long time ago. The curse caused us to be shunned until we got control of it. By the time we did most of us had moved to America but the lineage is still there. We’re the main branch of the family, too, but there are some offshoots scattered about.”

“Do they suffer from the curse as well?”

Gareth shrugged. “Some do, yes, but it primarily affects the main line.” He rubbed his hands together. “Can you drag that chair over here? I need to sit for this.”

Gen pulled over one of Gareth’s chairs and he settled down in front of the mirror. “All right. Don’t disturb me unless it seems I’m in distress, or if I shift forms. If I shift, it’s because my wolf senses danger and I’m too far gone to stop him from turning us.”

“Got it.” Gen wasn’t afraid that Gareth’s wolf would turn on her or hurt her. She was just as mated to the beast as the man. His wolf would no more hurt her than Gareth would.

No, she was more concerned that Hugh had anticipated a mirror spell and would have taken precautions to prevent it or, worse, damage the scryer.

Gen dimmed the lights in the room, grateful that it was one of the few rooms in the condo without windows to cover up. There could be no glare in the mirror other than the candle, and the dim room would aid Gareth in attaining a meditative state necessary for mirror scrying. He was, in essence, sending his mind seeking, questing for the answer to where Hugh might be. If he did it right, the vision in the mirror would help significantly.

If he did it wrong, the mirror would remain blank, his efforts wasted.

Gen kept herself quiet as Gareth took slow, deep breaths, his eyes closed, his expression smoothing out to a serene mask. His thoughts were turned inward, preparing himself to speak the words that would lead him on his vision quest.

And that was what scrying was, in essence. The spell caster used an object to “see” the subject of their quest, whether that was a pendulum, a mirror or a ball. Each spell caster had a preferred method of scrying, often using a single scrying object for their entire lives, the object so in tune with the spell caster’s unique energy signature that it would take less and less time to react to the caster’s request.

Gen’s preferred method was water scrying. A copper bowl rested in her old home, one she’d used since she was fourteen. She would fill it with salt water, bless it, and call upon the Goddess to aid her in her quest. Calling on the Goddess was a last resort, used only when what she hunted was so powerful normal scrying methods didn’t work.

Like now. The mirror remained distressingly dark an hour after Gareth had begun his meditations. Until he spoke, casting his own location spell. She wondered if he knew that purple light had begun dancing across his skin like tiny flames. The power of the king flowed across him, aiding him, granting him the ability to push past Hugh’s defenses and find her brother.

“Lord of the Wild, God of the Hunt,

Help find the evil I wish to confront.

Grant me sight both strong and true

That I might find what I pursue.

Show me now Hugh Godwin’s lair

So demon’s might I’ll trap and snare.

By my hand, by the powers three,

As I will so mote it be.”

Gareth repeated the chant three times, each time blowing gently across the incense burner so that the smoke wreathed the black mirror. Mist swirled within the mirror in conjunction with the incense as Gareth spoke, a dark counterpoint that should have been a reflection, but wasn’t.

After the third chant and blow, the mirror flickered, the mist parting. Gareth gazed into it intently.

An image appeared in the mirror. Hugh sat before a roaring fire, reading a book and drinking from a crystal wineglass. He looked like any other rich, spoiled man, surrounded by the trappings of luxury and wasting his time on idle pursuits.

Gen put her hand on Gareth’s shoulder. “I know where he is.”

“Where?” The image flickered, died out.

She should have realized where Hugh would feel most comfortable holing up. “My home.”

Chapter Fourteen

They stood about a mile away from the Godwin mansion, the mansion his mate had grown up in. Gen was surprisingly steady beside him, her game face on. The girl who had been so upset with herself for not realizing where Hugh was had given way to the woman who hunted warlocks without pity or mercy. She would destroy her brother, or die trying.

Gareth would make sure that didn’t happen.

“Stay here, Gareth.” Gen checked the clip in her gun and holstered it by her hip.

He blinked in shock. “Fuck that.”

Beside him, Daniel and Chris, who’d insisted on coming as well, exchanged guarded glances.

Gen turned to him, her eyes blazing with green light. “You will remain here, King Gareth.”

“In your dreams, Queen Genevieve.” As if he’d allow his mate to go into a fight like this, on the warlock’s home territory, without him.

“I’ll be with her, bro. Let me protect her. You know I’d die before I let anything happen to your mate.” Zach clapped his hand on Gareth’s shoulder, his eyes glittering with the white light of a witch Own. Already his brother was beginning to glow, his power seeping beyond his skin. “You guys are our backup team. If he slips by us, you get to confront him.”

“He’s going to see you coming from a mile away, glowbug.” Daniel wasn’t even looking at Zach and Gen. He was busy checking all the pouches he’d put on his belt. The belt looked like a Ren faire reject, but it was useful when it came to a wizard fight. Both Gareth and Chris wore ones similar to Daniel’s, filled with amulets, crystals, wands and powders. Oils and fragile glass vials were tucked into vest pockets, where they wouldn’t accidentally sit on them and damage them, or worse, break them prematurely. The vests had been Zach’s idea, and it was a good one. It allowed them to carry more than just the belt pouches did.

Each pouch contained its own spell. Because wizards required rituals in order to cast, they were forced to prepare differently than witches or even warlocks. Where Zach could simply hold out his hand, chant, and get a result, and Gen could call upon the Goddess, Gareth had to be keenly aware of what unfinished spells were in his pouches and pray they would be enough.

He’d seen Chris battle Cole, had taken part in the battle against Davis, but what they faced today might eclipse both of them if Hugh was truly after what Gareth feared.

Immortality.

If Hugh succeeded, he would become something worse than the Becketts at
their
worst. He would become a vampire in truth, sucking away life from innocents, forever feeding the demon who would take him over completely. He would be nigh invincible, the shadows his to command, able to pull on all of the demon’s power as the demon would become Hugh. The hunger would grow and grow, the power fed on blood and souls, until the demon could cover the world in shadows.

Gareth had to stop him before he succeeded in his quest. He couldn’t allow the warlock to get his hands on either Gen or Zach. The power he’d wield if he managed to grab either of their souls would be unfathomable.

“Seriously. You need to hang back.” Gareth glanced up to find Zach staring at him, his expression so serious Gareth was forced to listen to his brother. “We need to know you’re guarding our rear. If this goes south, you’re our only hope of surviving.”

“God damn motherfucking son of a bitch.” Zach had played his trump card, and Gareth had to admit it was a good one.

Zach’s lips twitched. “Don’t talk about our mother that way.”

“Chris can watch our backs. We’re going with you.” Daniel seemed just as determined as Zach. He’d gotten better about not teasing their little brother, but that didn’t mean Daniel was willing to listen to Zach. Zach was still the baby of the family, and Daniel had a hard time seeing past that.

Besides, from the way his wolf still peeked at them, Daniel wanted a piece of Hugh for hurting Kerry, whether he was willing to admit that or not.

Gareth agreed with Daniel. “You need us there.”

“Gareth—”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Becketts stick together.”

“I’m not technically a Beckett.” Gen wasn’t looking directly at him, but he could still see her cheeks turning bright red.

“Something I aim to fix as soon as this bullshit is taken care of.” He cupped the back of her neck, enjoying the way she shivered under his touch. She was so responsive, even as they were about to head into battle. “You need me.”

She smiled up at him, sweet and sour, and cupped his cheek. “Always. Bastard.”

He grinned. “Then let’s get this party started, sweetheart.”