Witchlock (16 page)

Tegus became very quiet.
 

Now that she had his full attention, she continued. “You see, this is not about
wielding
Witchlock. When the moment comes for me to embrace the Witchlock power, I will have no trouble with one like you.” A partial truth. But she did still need to learn how to control the power she received from Ragan. Then she wouldn’t lose consciousness the first five minutes she took possession of Witchlock and it overwhelmed her. She’d read the history. The more power she gained now, the stronger she’d be during the eclipse.
 

“You’re insane,” Tegus accused her.
 

She ignored his lack of understanding and finished explaining what this test meant. “All I’m doing right now is learning the way this power will travel through a bloodline, such as along the energetic connection from you to your son. You should be very proud of him. His powers are quite strong for an untrained eight-year-old who is half human.”
 

“No. Not him. Take anything you want from me, but spare him.
Please!”
 
 

And there it was. This was the vulnerable point in Tegus. She would
locate that in every powerful being she chose to exploit.
 

“I can’t possibly fail to finish this experiment once I take control of your power.”
 

Tegus started shouting curses.  Not profanity, but the real ones that had been created by his ancestors and intended for the destruction of entire armies.
 

Now she had a worthy adversary.
 

She extended her index finger on the hand holding the sphere, ignoring everything except funneling the energy from the sphere through her body and out to her finger, then sending that stream inside Tegus’s mind.
 

His livid cursing was cut off mid-word by his own scream. He arched his body against the restraints anchored in the wall. “Get out of my head!”  Veins stuck out all over his chest. His muscles twisted and moved like snakes inside his body.
 

Howling came from a distance. He was calling in spirits. They wouldn’t be able to harm her, not with this much raw power running through her body, but they could distract her.
 

Her body trembled from the strain, and she drew harder and harder for each breath, desperate to maintain control. Blood trickled from her nose and her head felt as though it would split in half any second.
 

She grew light-headed, but she kept drawing all the energy she could into her body, pulling harder on Ragan, and sending that energy up through her hand.
 

Blue light shot from her outstretched finger and struck Tegus’s head, lighting up his face.
 

His body shook so hard the heavy chains rattled. Foam poured from his mouth. His body bowed and twisted unnaturally, muscles and tendons stretching. He fought her with all he had and she admired the warrior in him.
 

A gut-wrenching scream ripped from his throat right before the blue light vanished and his body slumped. Blood ran from his eyes, which now bulged out of their sockets.
 

 Veronika cupped the hand holding the sphere against her chest and brought her other hand up to support her trembling arm. She licked away the trickle of blood running over her lip as she stood there shaking, and her stomach lurched a little at the metallic taste.
 

She took in the slumped form of Tegus.
 

Drat. His chest no longer moved with breathing.
 

How disappointing.
 

She’d she’d lost control when she pushed too hard. Once she reached
her full potential, directing it would be simpler, but her body could not tolerate more energy drawn off Ragan yet. She looked at the sphere, where threads had begun forming inside the round ball of energy, and her mood lightened. That was the first sign of the final metamorphosis for the sphere.  
 

Maybe she wasn’t so far from success as it appeared, but Tegus’s child would be of no use now. Still, she hated to pass up a chance to play. She so rarely got to enjoy herself.
 

This was not the time to lose focus or rush anything.
 

Impatience would be dangerous.
 

She had only one chance to take possession of Witchlock.
 

Once she did, she would have the power to own anyone’s witchcraft, and eventually, the power of deities.  
 

One in particular.
 

TÅμr Medb, home of the Medb coven
 

Chapter 13
 

Maeve studied the wall of jewels in her private quarters within TÅμr Medb and felt the eyes of a predator on her back. She swung around to meet the living eyes of her dragon-shaped throne. The chair sat between her scrying wall and the doors that led to the rest of the tower realm where the majority of her coven resided.
 

At least, that’s where they resided until she could wrangle the power from that bitch, Macha.
 

The dragon watched her with an unholy look in his glowing silver gaze with its black diamond pupils.
 

She strolled around to the front of the throne, forcing him to move in order to continue eyeing her. Laughing, she said, “I have noticed your silver eyes. Did you tire of the original color? Or have you finally managed to control one part of your body?”
 

Those eyes narrowed, with some vicious thought, she had no doubt.
 

What, Daegan? Do you have something to say after all this time?”  
 

That viper-sharp gaze stared back, unblinking.
 

“Very well, I will allow you to speak if you don’t annoy me, but it will not undo the entire spell so don’t get excited.”  She pointed a finger and whispered a string of words.
 

The dragon’s eyes glowed brighter, then dimmed and he blinked.
 

She cocked her head. “Have you forgotten how to speak?”
 

“No,” came out low and gravelly. “I remember everything.”
 

“I have no doubt.” She studied him, considering the best tack to take with this traitor who had thought to see her dead. “Would you like to share something you’ve seen during the years I was unavailable?”
 

“No.”
 

“Then returning your ability to speak was a mistake.”
 

“No, casting a curse on me was your mistake and I will live long enough to see the favor returned.”
 

The confidence in his words sent chills down her spine. He’d almost overpowered her once.
 

Never again.
 

But she would not allow him, or any other man, to unnerve her in her own domain. “I do love a man with your confidence, Daegan. I’ll make you a deal. Tell me something about Kizira that I can’t find out from the scrying wall and I’ll grant you a boon.”
 

The dragon’s eyes brightened at that offer, then took on a thoughtful look. When he moved his gaze back to her, he said,  “Flaevynn compelled Kizira so that the priestess could not heal herself during the final battle, because Flaevynn believed Kizira had betrayed Flaevynn and the coven during visits to the human world.”
 

Maeve added that bit of information to what she’d learned about the young woman being allowed a year away on her own at nineteen.
 

What had Kizira done during that year? And had she betrayed the Medb for the Belador warrior who had held her as she died?
 

A deep noise came from Daegan’s throat, reminding her it was time to pay up.
 

Maeve said, “Alright, what do you want and don’t be ridiculous. If you ask to break the spell, I’ll deny the boon.”
 

“My request is simple. I have not slept since I became a chair. Allow me to sleep when you do not need me to observe.”
 

She thought about any potential problem with that and couldn’t see one. Perhaps she’d found a way to squeeze information from him by allowing him to enjoy sleeping, then she’d dangle another bait later as a treat.
 

Lifting her hand she waved her fingers and tiny lights twinkled around his head then disappeared. She said, “Don’t make me regret that.”
 

“I am but a humble servant.”
 

He used to say that when he’d used his sword arm for her.
 

Before his loyalty turned.
 

She’d teach him not to try her patience.
 

With one snap of her fingers in his direction, he hissed at the sudden reinforcement of the initial spell that condemned him to live forever as the queen’s throne, unable to speak or enjoy life as a virile male ever again.
 

She warned him, “You may slumber when alone, but I warn you to choose your words more carefully next time you speak to me.”
 

The tall double doors opened on their own ahead of Cathbad walking briskly toward her from the hall leading to her quarters. He rubbed his hands in glee. “Ossian has inserted himself into VIPER as an independent contractor. They think he’s an independent warrior mage from the Julian Alps in Italy.”
 

"That was quite clever of you to gift Ossian with the ability to shield his Medb scent and change his physical appearance ... as long as no one at VIPER becomes suspicious of him."  
 

"Ossian is the best of our elite warriors.  He will not let us down.  With access to VIPER intelligence, he’s able to feed information to his scouts.
One group has reported that Vladimir Quinn has returned to Atlanta, and they have located him.”
 

“That’s encouraging, but I’ll be more enthusiastic once I find out the connection between him and the priestess Kizira.”
 

Cathbad’s grin broadened. “You didna let me finish. He was seen leaving a mausoleum in a cemetery. I’m thinkin’ that’s where he laid her to rest.”
 

“He didn’t burn the body and scatter the ashes?”
 

“Maybe not.”  Cathbad held out his hand and a crystal glass appeared with two fingers of brown liquid. “But I’m thinkin’ we may be premature in capturing Quinn until we know how to access the mausoleum.”
 

“Why can’t we just teleport into the vault?” she asked, thinking out loud.
 

“There’s no telling what kinda trap a Belador might have set.”
 

“You have a point. Still, I want to see it. If Kizira is in there, we’ll either capture Quinn and gain what I want or find a way into the mausoleum and find my answers there.”
 

“That’s my Maeve, thinkin’ like the sly queen who rules with a wicked fist.”
 

A snort sounded, drawing both Maeve and Cathbad’s attention toward her throne, where a puff of white smoke drifted from the tip of the dragon’s nose. Daegan’s eyes were as hard as his stone body that formed the elaborate throne.
 

Cathbad commented, “I’m not so sure allowing him to live all these years was a good idea.”
 

“Of course it was,” she told him, her sharp words making it clear she would not be criticized, not even by Cathbad. “Killing him would have been merciful and I will not be accused of that fault.”
 

Chuckling, Cathbad agreed. “Only fools would believe that of you.”  He turned from eyeing the dragon. “Back to business. I hear the Tribunal is quite angry over this conflict between you and Macha and wants a solution.”
 

“Oh? Should I be concerned?”
 

“No, I think you may be quite pleased with a gift I have for ya. Donndubhán, one of our
Scáth
Force warriors, has brought us an opportunity that you can use to gain advantage over the Beladors and very possibly force the Tribunal to see it your way with the gryphons.”  
 

“Where is this gift?”
 

“In the dungeon.”
 

VIPER Headquarters, North Georgia Mountains
 

Chapter 14
 

Tzader nodded at agents as he strode through VIPER headquarters, where the chilly air inside this mountain failed to improve his scorching bad mood. If Storm hadn’t been able to pin down a scent from the troll killing, no one could.
 

Not Storm’s fault.
 

The Skinwalker had run hard day and night trying to find the killer, which the Beladors needed more than ever now, or the Medb would point a finger at the Beladors for that murder, too.
 

He’d suffered through a half hour with the damned Tribunal deities, who were no happier with him than he was with them.
 

The hell with them.
 

They wanted the Beladors to play nice with the murdering Medb. They wanted the gryphon issue settled. They wanted Macha to shake and be friends with Maeve.
 

Like any of those crazy gods and goddesses would do that in Macha’s position?
 

Well, he wanted a few things too, like a chance at a normal life with the woman he loved. That was never going to happen as long as he had to cater to every person between here and Treoir. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a day off, much less a real day with Brina.
 

If Brina needed anything right now, no problem. Same for Evalle and Quinn, but the rest could go screw themselves.
 

When Tzader reached the main receiving area, agents walked through an arched exit that appeared when their resident troll, Jake, activated an overhead door hidden by Sen’s majik.