Sword of the Raven (16 page)

“I…after I broke loose from where I was imprisoned before, I sensed your
Aillidh
and traveled to Oregon, searching for you.”

Delaney dragged out the other chair and dropped into it, facing him.
“Aillidh?”

“If you know how to see it, our essence shines. Look at me.”

She studied the air around Rowan. “I don’t see—”

“Not with your eyes.”

As she concentrated all her senses on him, her vision blurred, and suddenly… “Oh!” Energy crackled around his body. Crystal clear jade shot with silver, undulating like the ocean on a sunny day. “It’s incredible! Are they all different?”

“The majority are pure white. Enforcers and Guardians have more powerful auras of differing colors. And Dark entities usually show muddy or clouded.” He frowned. “But not always.”

“How far away can we sense them?”

 “You’ll have to be close at first. Too close to warn you if they’re using a covert approach. With practice, you’ll get more proficient. As an Enforcer, I can track the
Aillidh
for thousands of kilometers. Yours glowed especially bright to me, drew me to you. I knew I was tasked with becoming your mentor.”

Which explained the firefly thing. “I’ve seen mine, it’s golden. Can everyone who’s…like us spot it?”

“Supernaturals recognize each other on sight. They also sense others’ Powers and feel the energy surge when they’re used. Different races
can
hide from one another at a distance. Enforcers are specially trained to see and feel other races’ Powers, even from far away.”

“How many um…Supernatural races are there?”

“More than we know about. But since the Dark Uprising last year that killed my kin, and so many others, Dark entities outnumber us a hundred to one.”

“Wonderful odds.”

“They are, that.” Arching a brow, he took another drink of coffee, spurring her to pick up her own. “I observed you for four weeks and waited for your quest call while I regained strength and gleaned knowledge from the year that passed during my captivity. You were nearly ready to receive your full Gift, and I had to stay close by.”

“You tracked me all the way from Scotland?”

“My imprisonment was in the Australian desert, within the largest, most desolate wasteland in this world. But I would’ve sensed you no matter how far apart we were. Now, the more often and the closer we’re linked, the easier I’ll be able to find you.”

“Slightly disconcerting. And impressive in a stalkerish sorta way.”

“When you’re in danger, you’ll be glad of it.”

“Can I sense you?”

“Since you’ve gained your powers, you’ll begin to discern most other Supernaturals upon sight, and you’ll get better with practice. But you won’t be able to feel them from a distance for several more years.”

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, dark with morning stubble. “I’d just reached shore and was walking the beach a few miles from here, when Zinter sensed my Powers and ambushed me. I should’ve picked up on hers, but I was still recovering from my ordeal and a wee bit…preoccupied. She slammed me with a flash bolt and then a stun spell. When I awoke, I was on a yacht. Naked and lashed in chains.”

Again.
Rage and humiliation punched through Rowan’s mental shield as his stray thought hit Delaney.

“The Sorceress was thrilled to tell me her plans…in lurid detail. She and her ‘associates’ have apparently acquired a way to steal others’ essences and absorb them, increasing their own Powers. The stronger the source, the more Power they gain. Demon lords could occasionally do it, but they were the only ones, and it was rare.” He scowled. “They like to torture their victims first. Fear and pain ramp up the energy field, and the predator gets a sexual high. Soul rape, with a murder chaser.”

She’d watched the abomination, firsthand. Zinter had tried to rape Rowan’s soul? Nausea churned, and she pushed aside coffee number four. “She hurt you.”

“She didn’t get the chance to do more than clout me about a bit. Zinter coveted my Power all for herself, didn’t want to share with her mates, which is why she sequestered me on her yacht. She broke Rule Number One, Delaney. She didn’t realize she was playing with a
Tuatha
Dé Danann
Enforcer. Feckin’ few of us survived the Dark Uprising, and nobody knew I’d broken loose yet. Not brilliant to take a water Mage out on a ship surrounded by ocean waves. I’m drown-proof.” His teeth bared in that feral smile. “And gasoline is a liquid. I blew her plans out of the bay.”

Relief made her sag in her chair. “Did Zinter survive?”

“I don’t know. I was barely conscious afterward, and we were kilometers from shore. I didn’t see any remains, but there might not have been much left.”

“I wonder if she was reported missing? I’ve been somewhat preoccupied myself and haven’t watched the news in days.” She stepped between Rowan and the table to access her computer. As she ran a search, awareness of him so close at her back tripped along her nerve endings. “Hmm…nothing. No boating accident, no missing person report, no news at all regarding the judge.”

“Also inconclusive. If she
is
missing, her ‘associates’ may have reasons for keeping quiet. They might not be able to use the new method without her and don’t want word getting out they’ve lost their source. Or perhaps they took whatever it is and bolted.”

 “Their essence stealing is tied into my brother’s frame-up and subsequent coma,
and
the supposed Euphoria OD’s.” She whirled to face him. “OD victims’ autopsies show major nerve trauma, holes eaten in the brain tissue, and withered pineal glands. They’re crippling and killing people
nationally,
and getting stronger every day!”

“Aye, and now that they’ve tasted success, they’ll go global.”

“How do we stop them?”

“The million quid question, isn’t it?”

“I’ve seen what you described…those soul rapes. On my quest. I can tell you everything. Even if I didn’t have a photographic memory, I’d never forget what I witnessed.”

“You have an eidetic memory?” His piercing gaze captured hers. “How much are you willing to trust me?”

All of MacLachlan’s intensity lasered directly on her made her knees wobbly, and she leaned against the table. “Is that a trick question?”

“Enforcers possess an interrogation technique I could use on you to learn details of your experience. It’d be most helpful. If you don’t resist, it causes minimal…discomfort.”

“What level of ‘discomfort’ are we talking?” Truthfully, it didn’t matter. Anything to rescue Connor. But stalling gave her a chance to fortify herself.

“You’ll relive the journey, and I’ll see and feel everything from your point of view. Are you willing?”

She hesitated. Finally nodded. “Okay.”

He patted his thigh. “Sit on my lap, then.”

“This technique is standard Enforcer protocol?”

“Aye, and fair foolproof.”

She eyeballed him. “You bouncing demons on your knee is not a comfortable visual.”

He smirked. “Physical contact will ease the process for both of us and negate any unpleasant side effects. During an interrogation with an uncooperative demon, I just spear my Power into its brain and confiscate everything. Their pain, or any residual damage, isn’t an issue.”

She already knew he was a balls-to-the-wall gladiator, but… “Do you routinely coerce confessions?”

“Delaney, what you saw on your quest is only a fraction of the cruelty our enemies revel in. ‘Tis an entirely different, brutal domain from the mortal coil. Do you think demons coolly request legal representation and then cop a plea over tearing someone’s child to pieces and drinking their blood?”

“When you put it that way—” Taking a deep breath, she pushed off the table. He held out his arm, and she stepped toward him, then lowered herself sideways to sit on his muscled thighs.

His arm wrapped around her waist and drew her against him. His free hand captured hers. “Lean on me and shut your eyes.”

She hesitated. Then complied. Under the soft fleece beneath her cheek, his heartbeat thudded strong and steady. His warmth surrounded her, and she inhaled his scent...fresh ocean waves and summer rain.

“Relax now, Delaney.” Rowan’s calm, deep brogue vibrated from his chest, echoed inside her mind. His Power enveloped her, a heavy, heated blanket wrapping around her body. Gentle pressure pushed for entrance at her temples. “Open up and let me in.”

Panic struck, and she tensed. Shoved back against the invasion.

“Easy,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. Just take me inside you.”

Gritting her teeth, she struggled to surrender control. Slowly, her mental barriers lowered.

“That’s the way.
Aye,
good.” As his Power built, so did the pressure. “Almost there, luv.”

Finally, her guard dropped completely. She was open. Defenseless. And just like she’d stepped into his arms, Rowan stepped inside her head.

Shivering, she reeled at the foreign, disorienting sensation.

His forearm tightened around her waist.
No pain, is there, lass?

No. But, you’re
here.
So closely joined. It feels…overwhelming. And a little…scary. Okay, a whole lot scary.

I can make the sensations much more pleasurable if you wish.

No! I mean…this is fine. I’ll get used to it.

The light of his smile streamed through her.
Don’t fight me, Delaney. The less resistance you offer, the easier it is for both of us. I won’t overpower your thoughts. Won’t make you do or feel anything you don’t want to. I’m simply joined with you to see what you saw through your eyes. Feel what you felt. Like when you envisioned my initiation.

Um…yeah. What now?

Start with entering Connor’s hospital room and go from there. Just remember.

The events replayed in her mind, a movie on fast-forward. Rowan was an expert at shielding himself, but with his consciousness merged into hers, Delaney also felt the reactions that leaked through his barriers.

Giant black wings. Pain. Ashes…the scorched landscape.

Bewilderment muddled Rowan’s thoughts.
Indeed, you were in the Abyss.

Trudging up the hill. Marching feet. Demons. Balor’s terrifying arrival.

Rowan tensed.
You encountered Balor?

In her mind’s eye, she again looked down upon the woman, Ceard, leading her brother from the palace on a leash.

Rowan jolted. His horrified revulsion crawled over Delaney. Hatred so cold it burned surged through her bloodstream, and a consuming thirst for vengeance tasted bitter in her mouth.
Show me the rest,
he growled.

Balor draining the life force from Phillip Chambers. The giant raven nuzzling her cheek. Soaring high. Smashing the altar.

Bugger me!
Rowan’s shock arrowed through her.

Finn’s salute, “My regards to the MacLachlan. Tell the lucky bastard to be yanking his head from his arse and begin looking upward.”

Finn MacCumhail, Erin’s legendary warrior?
Rowan muttered.
So that’s where you landed.

Scorpion’s sting. Tears.
Goodbye, Connor.

More pain. Falling. Her own hoarse screams.

Darkness.

“Delaney?” Rowan’s hand briskly patted her cheek. “Can you hear me? Come back, Delaney.”

She lifted heavy eyelids. Blinked. She was alone in her body again. She stared into stunned quicksilver eyes, where reluctant respect warred with…fear?

Rowan was
afraid?

Every muscle rigid, he cradled her against his broad shoulder. A murderous scowl eclipsed his features.
“Holy Mary, Queen of Scots,
do you have any idea what you’ve
done,
lass?”

Chapter 10

Delaney gulped. “Do I want to know?”

“No, but I’m bloody well beholden to tell you.”

“All right.”

“Lass…” His scowl darkened. “You single-handedly destroyed a sacred Fomorian demon shrine and released three thousand years’ worth of trapped souls…while attacking the most powerful demon lord known to exist.”

“I— Um…it seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“Balor won’t rest until he flays you alive.” The stress lines etched in his face jump-started her pulse. “For starters.”

“I guess it’s too much to hope I at least handicapped him.”

“At best, you damaged his power conduit in the Abyss and temporarily trapped him there. When he recovers and breaks out, he’s gonna go on a rampage the likes of which we’ve never imagined on earth.”

“At
best?
What’s the worst?”

 “Your Power is strong and unique. Balor will covet it for himself. He’ll stop at nothing to get to you.” A shudder trembled through him. “What you saw him do to Chambers…that’s his ‘fast food’ method. He usually takes his time to savor his meals. Women
or
men.”

Vertigo spun her in sick circles.
“Oh, God,”
she whispered. “That monster will be hunting Connor, too. My brother is trapped with him.”

“The Abyss is an endless wilderness, Connor won’t be easy to find. And he’s not alone. The Morrigan and Finn’s warriors are his allies.” Rowan shifted her off his lap. “But we’ve no time to waste. Samhain is in three weeks. At midnight on Samhain Eve, the veils that separate one realm from another are at their thinnest. If Ceard attempts a spell to free Balor, it’ll be then. You need to start training. Immediately.”

* * *

Outside in the gloomy drizzle, Delaney’s teeth clacked together as Rowan dumped her on her ass on the muddy lawn…for the umpteenth time in two hours.

A raven floating in the sky above them cawed raucously, as if laughing. Yet another recent up-close-and-personal raven sighting, starting when she’d found her charm. Morrigan’s handmaidens? The idea wasn’t as crazy as it would’ve seemed before a century-old sexy Scot had washed up on her beach.

“Dammit,
focus,
Delaney.”

She swiped a dirt-smeared hand across her wet face. Forcing stiff, achy muscles to move, she clambered to her feet. “I am!”

“Not enough. Where’s your Power?”

“If I knew, I’d use it!” She’d been trying to summon her Power all afternoon, but it seemed to be MIA.

“I suggest you find it.”

As he lunged, she spun into the defense-turned-surprise-attack he’d been teaching her. She kicked out and attempted to leg-sweep him, but he pivoted, snagged her ankle, and tossed her to the ground.

Again.

She lay wheezing. When she could gasp in a breath, she spat an oath usually reserved for speeding tickets. “Are you trying to cripple me?”

“I’m trying to save your life,” he gritted. “Get up. Come at me again, Power on this time.”

Delaney suggested a creative solo exercise he could do with his Powers.

Stabbing his fingers through his black mane, Rowan stalked to the edge of the bluff. He turned his broad back to her, crossed his arms and stared out at the restless translucent green waves. “Am I a sodding bad teacher, or do you just suck at this?”

Suck?
She rolled over onto her stomach, pushed to her hands and knees. Holding her breath, she crawled stealthily across cold, soaked grass, timing the ocean’s roar to conceal every infuriatingly painful motion. Each slow creep built her ire.

Right behind him, she grasped his ankles, yanked with all her might, and slapped him with a rush of Power.

Rowan yelled in Gaelic. His arms windmilled, and he fell flat on his back. She leapt on him in a body-slam. Air whooshed from his lungs. Sprawled on top of him, she fisted her fingers in his hair and thunked the back of his head onto the grass.

He blinked dazedly as she rammed her forearm against his throat, holding him down with roiling Power. “I don’t think I suck.”

He tried to speak, merely croaked. After his face turned a lovely shade of blue, she slowly counted to five before she released the pressure on his windpipe.

His turn to wheeze. He sputtered. Color flowed back into his cheeks. Then he burst into deep, rich laughter. “That’s what I’m talking about, sweetheart.”

Her gaze locked with his. “I got you good. Admit it.”

Mouths inches apart, their warm breaths merged, curling into white vapor in the cool air. Raindrops sparkled on Rowan’s sooty lashes and glistened in his hair. Heat radiated from his big body, the smell of damp earth mingling with the erotic scent of hot, wet man.

“Aye, you got me,” he murmured. His heartbeat galloped against her breasts. “What are you going do with me, now?”

Her own pulse hammered in her ears. All she had to do was lower her mouth a fraction. Touch her lips to his. Nibble. Taste. Drink him in like a long, refreshing draught.

Her tongue licked her lower lip in anticipation. His breath hitched as green swirled into his irises, and he hardened beneath her.

Delaney swallowed. What the
hell
was she doing?

“Why am I fighting bare-handed?” She scrambled off him to sit in the grass. “Don’t I get a big impressive sword, like yours?”

Rowan propped himself on his elbows, and the movement drew her glance to the prominent bulge at his fly. His wickedly sexy grin flashed. “My sword stands ready, willing and able to do battle for M’lady.”

Very able.

Obviously, she hadn’t fully taken to heart Rule One.

She widened her eyes, all innocence. “You want me waving
your
weapon at Balor?”

That sobered him up, fast.
“Never
let your weapon be captured. A serious wound from your own weapon is always fatal.”

He surged to his feet, loose-limbed and graceful even after being knocked flat. “And you
won’t
be engaging Balor.” She didn’t have to infiltrate his mind to read the grim determination on his face.
Because I plan to get there first.

Apprehension hollowed her insides. Balor was a brutal opponent.

Rowan offered his hand. When she placed hers in it, he tugged her upright. “You’ve finally tapped into your Powers. Try to summon your weapon.”

The better she got at fighting, the better she could back him up…and the better his chances of surviving. She squared sore shoulders. “How?”

He lifted his right hand.
“Ni Dìobair!”
he called, and the sword of ice appeared.

She admired the coldly glittering blade. “I saw you receive that in the vision of your eighteenth birthday. ‘Never Forsake.’ Do I say that?”

“Nay. ‘Tis my war cry, to call forth my weapon. You were given your own on your quest. That part was blocked to me, ‘twas for you alone.”

“I didn’t get anything of the sort.”

“Aye, you did.” He twirled his sword, reflecting prisms against the gray sky. “Yours won’t be in Gaelic, but something of personal meaning.”

“Honestly, Rowan, I don’t…” She grinned. “Oh.”

“You remember now?”

“Yep.” She thrust up her hand, sang out the refrain from “Blaze of Glory.” The elegant garnet-studded hilt slid into her palm. The blade didn’t light up, but neither did she in this realm.

Rowan chuckled. “That’s different.”

Her grin spread. “That’s Bon Jovi.”

“Okay, then.” He swung his sword at her. “Show me your form.”

As afternoon lengthened into early evening, he coached her in sword-fighting basics. Because of her kick-boxing practice, she was better with hand-to-hand combat than the weapon. Which wasn’t saying much. But Rowan assured Delaney her proficiency would increase with every practice.

She only hoped she’d get a
lot
more dress rehearsal prior to the final act…which was approaching far faster than she’d like.

Delaney swung at him, missed for the third time in a row. Heaving a sigh, she drooped. “I’m soaked, sweaty, muddy, and my arms and legs quit functioning forty minutes ago.”

His glance appraised the darkening clouds. “No wonder. ‘Tis late…and it just occurred to me we skipped lunch.” He showed her how to invisibly sheathe her weapon before they trekked into the cabin.

She propped her bruised, leaden body against the doorjamb. “I’m taking a bath before I eat. Don’t wait for me, grab whatever you want out of the fridge or freezer.”

“I’ll rebuild the fire, then I’m going down to the sea to bathe.”

“You’ll freeze!”

“Nay. The ocean will warm for me.”

“Okay. Right.” She trudged down the hallway and into the bedroom, where she rummaged in the closet for a pale blue thermal top and dark blue flannel pj pants dotted with stars. Carrying the change of clothing, she walked into the bathroom, then stopped short.

The wall-sconces and heater glowed, and raspberry-scented bubbles frothed to the top of the bathtub. Rowan turned from the vanity where he’d just lit the white pillar candle nestled in beach sand and shells inside a large hurricane jar.

She smiled at him. He must have used his Power to so quickly fill the huge tub. “Bless you, Rowan.”

 “Enjoy, you deserve it. You worked hard today. Bloody good job, Delaney.” He shook out the match, then tossed her a return smile on his way out the door.

She stripped, his praise easing her aches better than the steaming water as she sank into heaven. Stretched out full-length with her neck resting on the sloped rim, Delaney closed her eyes.

She must have dozed off, because next thing she knew, she blinked and stared up at the blurred planked ceiling. A quick glance at the vanity clock told her she’d been soaking over an hour. Yet the water had stayed comfortably hot—no doubt Rowan’s doing.

One minute her Mage could be a total PITA…and the next, heart-tuggingly thoughtful.

No longer quite as stiff or achy, she climbed out. She took a super-fast shower to wash her hair, just as quickly blow-dried it. Dressed in snug pj’s, she padded down the hallway to the living area.

Rowan stood across the room in profile, staring out the kitchen window into the night. Every taut plane of his handsome features revealed raw, exposed emotion. Intensity darkened his eyes as his hands tightly clenched the counter’s edge.

The naked longing on his face stole her breath.

Then he looked at her, and his welcoming smile banished the vulnerable moment. “Hungry?”

“Starved!” shot out too fast to snatch it back. She winced. “Sorry, so sorry! I meant—”

“No need, lass. It was what it was. All that matters is I survived.” He yanked the curtains closed, then swiveled to tend steaming pans on the stove. “I heard you showering and fixed your dinner.”

“I told you not to wait, you must be st— so hungry yourself.” She hurried to his side and saw a pot of bubbling canned chicken soup, and a frying pan with four sizzling grilled cheddar, bacon, and tomato sandwiches.

“I didn’t. This is second helpings for me. There’s salad in the fridge and I found a homemade unbaked pie in the freezer, which I put into the oven about an hour ago. Not sure what sort.”

“Any pie is good pie.” She opened the oven door a crack and sniffed warm, fruity fragrance. “Mmm. Strawberry rhubarb.”

“Sweet
and
sassy.” He playfully hip-bumped her out of his way to flip over the sandwiches. “I fancy that.”

I’ll just bet you do.
“The crust looks done.”

“Got it.” He extracted the pie tin while she dished up her dinner. He filled another sandwich plate and bowl of soup for himself. “You’re a brilliant baker, Delaney.”

“Let’s eat by the fire tonight.” She carried her food to the living room. “I’m not the chef, it’s Archer. He spends weeks here by himself.” At least she’d assumed he was alone, but who knew? “He hikes, swims, paints, picks berries. And cooks.”

“Eh, Guardians.” Rowan set his loaded plate and brimming bowl on the coffee table before joining her on the sofa. “Enigmatic lot. One minute rolling out pastry, and the next, attempting to sever your jugular.”

She bit into a slightly charred sandwich, the most delicious meal she’d tasted in ages. Chewed, swallowed. “If Guardians aren’t Mages, or angels, what are they, then?”

“Good question. Although we fight on the same side—most of the time—‘tis a wary alliance. Their origins are a mystery and they keep it that way. Their Powers sometimes include transmogrification. The Morrigan appeared as a raven, and her lover could transform into a massive Irish wolfhound. So there is speculation Guardians are rare, favored descendants of their son.”

The memory of Archer’s raptor-like wings resurged. She choked on her soup. “Are we talking…” Cough. “…were-animals?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Guardians don’t care for that comparison either.”

“But they can change into different, um, non-human forms?”

“Some can, aye.”

“You promised to tell me about your origins when we started training. I can’t think of a better time.”

He nodded. “I will relate our history as ‘twas passed on to me by my father.”

Still eating, she settled into the cushions in anticipation.

Pride and passion animated Rowan’s face. “Live now the Sacred Legend, Delaney Morgan…as blessed few have the privilege to know it.”

Vertigo hit Delaney, and her essence rushed backward, experiencing every detail as if she
were
living it.

“In times before the ancients, the oppressed Celtic tribes cried out to the divine realm for deliverance. The Creator heard their pleas and sent a vast cloud from the Otherworld carrying a host of the
Tuatha Dé Danann,
a clan of fierce warriors known as the Shining Ones.

“There on the enchanted green isles of Erin, the
Tuatha Dé
used our alliance with nature’s elements to unleash and wield ancient Magic bound within the hallowed Earth. The
Tuatha Dé Danann
became protectors of mankind and fought alongside Erin’s people.

“This enraged Balor, king of the Fomorii, whose demon race of barbaric giants had subjugated the Celts in slavery for over a decade. Worse, Balor reveled in consuming the souls of their firstborn children every year at sundown on October thirty-first—the eve of the formerly joyous Celtic New Year festival of Samhain.