Ascension (31 page)

“The countryside.” Taig untangled another knot, unravelling her thoughts at the same time and bringing her back to him. She liked the feel of his fingers in her hair. It was soothing.

“Just the countryside?” She liked this conversation too. They had never talked about their future before, and she got the feeling Taig was doing just that, and that he had put a lot of thought into how it was going to turn out.

“No… English countryside… somewhere near a little village full of old thatched buildings. A small manor with a beautiful rose garden and a fountain. Not too big. Cotswold stone and with pillars at the entrance. It would suit you just perfect.”

Lealandra frowned. He wasn’t talking about a dream place. He looked at her, his eyes open and full of honesty. She had never pieced it together before now. The way Taig spoke sometimes, he didn’t sound American. His accent sounded mixed and the words he used weren’t right for her country. She remembered the picture of his parents. They were in a garden. A beautiful rose garden. A chill swept over her.

“That’s a real place,” she whispered, holding his gaze so she could see the truth in it when he answered.

“Actually, that’s a real place that I own.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You grew up there. You’re British!”

He smiled. “You’re not going to hold that against me are you, sweet cheeks? Don’t tell me you can accept the demon thing but not the ex-pat side of me?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Not at all. I just can’t believe that I didn’t realise before now… and… you really want to go there with me?”

He shrugged and she frowned at him. For a moment, she had thought he was being serious about their relationship and the things he was saying. He smiled again, reached out, and brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek.

“Of course I want to go there with you.” His expression shifted to one of wariness. “But I haven’t been back since my parents—you know. I left there, wanted to leave my past behind me, but now I feel I can return… and besides, the place really is perfect for you. Quiet, beautiful, and full of old witches that could help you with your magic.”

“Old witches?” That piqued her curiosity.

“Ancient.” He stroked her cheek again. “Their magic keeps them going. They have a strong relationship with it. I figured you might want to learn from them. They used to know my mother. I’m sure I could put in a good word for you.”

“Your mother knew witches?”

He nodded again. “My father didn’t quite see eye to eye with them so they only came to the manor when he wasn’t around, but my mum went to see them every week. I think she wanted to learn magic. She wanted to be different, like my father.”

Lealandra smiled and closed her eyes. She was different, just like Taig, and he was right about meeting with the old witches. She wanted to see them and see if they could help her develop a stronger relationship with her magic.

“So, you want to come with me back to my old place?” Taig said as casual as anything but she could feel the underlying nerves in him. Was this like his version of asking her to go steady with him? It was a bit late for him to be asking that after they had both marked each other with a sign of bonding.

She wrapped her arms around him. “I’d love to… and then we can get married.”

He laughed. “You are insatiable.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

“No… it wasn’t a no.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “It wasn’t a yes either.”

Lealandra rolled her eyes. It was as close to a yes as she was going to get out of him for now, and that was enough for her. It was nice to have him opening up to her at last. He felt so different since he had shown his demon form to her—comfortable and calm. Had he finally accepted that part of himself and her love for him? Wasn’t he going to fight her anymore? She finally felt as though things were serious between them and he had let her into the fortress that protected his heart.

Taig held her in silence for a few minutes, the air between them comfortable, and then he tensed.

“What’s wrong?” she murmured against his chest, gradually drifting off to sleep.

“Something’s been bothering me.”

“What?” She pushed sleep from her mind and looked up at Taig.

“How easy would it be for someone to pretend to be someone else, to sound like them?”

“Using magic?”

He nodded.

“Easy, sweet cheeks,” she said in his voice, a perfect imitation of him.

He shuddered and glared at her. “If you ever do that again in the bedroom, I’m leaving.”

She laughed. He didn’t.

“You’re thinking about the phone call Isabelle got, aren’t you?” She thought about everything that Isabelle had told her. It made sense that Mariana would want to warn Isabelle and any witch outside the coven at the time that they would be in danger if they returned, but then what Taig was implying made a whole lot more sense. Gregori wanted to finish her off. What better way than to have her come to him?

“It’s a trap.” Taig’s expression remained serious.

“I know.” She laid her head back down on his shoulder and placed her hand against his chest. “Gregori wants me to come to him. He doesn’t need to invite me. I was already going.”

Lealandra closed her eyes and held Taig. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against her head. If Gregori wanted a fight, he was going to get one.

The moment they woke tomorrow, they were going to arm up and head out. She wouldn’t fail Isabelle or anyone trapped in the coven. She was going to fight for them and for herself. She was going to fight for her future.

She was going to kill Gregori.

A sense of dread filled her.

She only hoped this wouldn’t be the last time she laid in Taig’s arms.

She wanted that dream he had for them, more than anything.

W
itches.

Taig growled, grabbed the man who had attempted to tackle him, and threw him across the expansive room in the coven building.

He hated them.

Well, there were a few exceptions.

He glanced across the fray at Lealandra. She was fighting hard, backed up by three female witches around her age that were strong, and Isabelle. He could never hate Lealandra, and he couldn’t hate her parents, not if he was going to remain on good terms with them, and he didn’t mind the witches back near where he grew up, but other than those, he hated them.

Give him demons, shadows, angels, any of the nefarious creatures residing in the underworld, any day of the week, and he would be happy to scrap it out. But witches.

They fought dirty.

His head spun as a spell slammed into him, knocking him off his feet and sapping his power. The drain was weak and temporary enough that it only pissed him off. The witches they were fighting right now weren’t a threat but their half-assed spells were beginning to get on his nerves.

He roared at the group of young male witches who were casting the spells and stormed towards them, making his way past the toppled dark red couches and the overturned tables of the huge open living area. The lights were low, half of the standing floor lamps broken in the raging storm of battle happening all around him.

Casualty numbers were rising fast and their group of witches was dwindling. They were already down around half their number, almost forty dead, but nearly one hundred littered the room and the corridors around it. It was all taking its toll on Lealandra. He could see it each time he looked at her. She hadn’t wanted so many to sacrifice themselves, but this was a war, a revolution, and that meant some paid with their lives for the freedom of others. Everyone here had chosen to come and to fight. Those who had been afraid, too young or old or too weak magically were hiding on the lower levels where they would be safe. Every floor from the end of living quarters upwards was a war zone. Lealandra’s group had teleported straight to the eighteenth floor and into the stronger witches, but they still weren’t fighting the highest level ones. Those waited on the floor above with Gregori.

A broken window in the long bank that lined the outside wall allowed a chill breeze to blast through the room, carrying the scent of cinders and blood. The world outside was dark, a myriad of twinkling city lights swallowed by sheer silence. This high up, the world didn’t make a sound.

Three stronger male witches followed him towards his next prey, his back up but annoying nonetheless. He didn’t need an entourage. He had told Lealandra that until he was sick of hearing it himself but she hadn’t budged. She was worried about him and that meant he was stuck with three dark haired young men who looked as pleased about the situation as he felt. When Lealandra had pulled out the puppy dog eyes, it had been game over. He never could turn her down when she looked like that.

The man in the middle of the group of four witches he was storming towards backed off a step. Taig grinned. He had just elected himself the first one to die. The world sped by in a blur as Taig crossed the room in a heartbeat, appearing behind the man and snapping his neck before he could even realise he was there. The remaining three turned to look at him, their wide eyes reflecting the horror Taig could feel pounding in their veins. He slammed his fist into the pretty face of the young man to his right, sending him flying across the room head over heels and barrelling into another group of witches. Lealandra shot Taig a dirty look. He winked. She blasted the witch with a spell that Taig didn’t like the look of. The moment it hit the man, he convulsed. Taig flinched when the man’s limbs twisted in grotesque ways and then he went still. Dead. Taig noted not to get on Lealandra’s nerves too much during the fight. He didn’t want to end up playing contortionist too.

A spell whizzed past his head, narrowly missing his ear, and Taig growled at the man who had thrown it. He backed away, right into one of Taig’s entourage. The man touched his shoulder, their eyes met, and his foe fell lifeless to the floor.

What kind of witches had Lealandra dumped him with?

Another of his men touched the remaining witch and he too fell to the floor.

Necromancers? Taig shook his head. No human had found a way to govern the spirits. They refused to listen to them and their magic. Perhaps these men were just more powerful than he had given them credit for. He had underestimated them. Well, he grinned to himself, they had probably underestimated him too. Demons weren’t the only ones who didn’t recognise the strength of the power in him when they met him, not until he unleashed it.

Taig stood still, surrounded by chaos on the empty floor, eyes locked with the men on his team. They were sure, confident, and bordering on cocky as they stared at him with empty eyes, no sign of feeling in their features. They were mocking him. Silently challenging him. Taig tilted his chin up, coolly held the leaders gaze, a man who looked around the same age as himself, somewhere in his mid-thirties, and with equally dark hair but very pale skin. The man’s blue eyes stared impassively back at him. Taig would show him just who was stronger.

Witches attacked them but the other two men on his team handled them with ease, touching them and sending them to whatever dark place it was that they had some dominion over. It wasn’t death and it wasn’t the shadow world. These men weren’t strong enough for that sort of magic.

Taig smiled, a small one that tugged at the corners of his lips and reflected his surety.

He unleashed his power a touch, just enough for the three men to feel it. He wanted them to know who was stronger and in charge here. The way they were heading, it wouldn’t be long before they started getting ideas above their station, started trying to command him, and he would be dead before that happened.

The male witch’s expression didn’t change.

Taig released it a little more and then, with a smile, said, “Let’s make this fight more interesting, eh?”

The man frowned.

Taig stared deep into his eyes, focused all of his power on the barrier between worlds, between Earth and the shadows, and nudged it a little. It didn’t take much. Just a slight push in the right place. A demon way of shifting realities. A witch would go in head first, firing off their strongest spell to disrupt the worlds. All it took was a little poke in a weak spot and it tipped them off balance.

The already dimly lit open area grew darker, the shadows distorting and the air turning so cold that the witch’s breath was visible. Taig continued to smile. The witch started to look nervous. His eyes left Taig’s, darting around at the encroaching shadows that shifted and moved, contorting into new shapes that had long broken claws and fractured bodies.

The male witch backed away a step and cast a glance at his two companions. Their faces no longer spoke of confidence. Emotions skittered across them one after another, a shifting wave of fear and awe.

Taig grinned and folded his arms across his chest, causing the black t-shirt he wore to stretch tight over bunched muscles.

They were impressed.

“Taig!” A sharp voice rang out across the ever-darkening room.

Taig winced and cautiously looked across it at Lealandra.

She wasn’t.

With a cheeky smile and shrug of his shoulders, he healed the breach between worlds and gave her his best innocent look.

“Not the time for games,” she said and then her anger shattered, a small but relieving smile briefly touching her lips, “but you can show me how to do that later.”

Maybe she was impressed. It wasn’t every day that someone brought the shadow world to this one. Normally people sent their victim there and normally it took a lot of power to do so. He preferred to take the less draining route of bringing the shadows to him. Once here, brought by him, they would obey a command in the hope of a chance to taste human flesh.

The room brightened as the shadows melted away.

The three witches in his escort still looked wary. Good. Maybe now they wouldn’t piss him off as much. Although, he had been in a foul mood since teleporting Lealandra into this situation. They had geared up back at his place, both dressing in their usual black but this time both choosing tight jeans and a black t-shirt, fighting clothes, and had brought guns with them as back up should they expend all of their power. He had dropped Lealandra right where she had wanted to be, although it had been by chance. He didn’t know where Isabelle’s place was in the building so had been forced to rely on guidance from Lealandra’s power. She worked pretty good as a navigation system. They had landed right on Isabelle’s couch, smashing it to pieces and sending Isabelle flying across the room. Several other witches had been present. It hadn’t taken long for more to come, called telepathically by Isabelle. Now they were here, in what looked like some sort of open living area, a gathering place for the witches in the building.