“Was Hank like you?”
“Hank lived through me. I was his life, his bloodline. Of course, even I couldn’t protect the fool from a wound inflicted by silver. He really should have known better than to carry such a weapon.”
Movement flickered in the darkness behind Eleanor. Maddie fought the sudden rush of excitement and terror. Teresa had found the courage to move out of the cell, but all Eleanor had to do was turn slightly and she’d see the teenager as plain as day. “Surely a sorcerer can find a better way to sustain her looks than killing innocent children.”
Teresa was easing around the edge of the cavern entrance, a ragged white shape framed by the cold fire’s flickering light.
“There is nothing as powerful as blood magic, and only blood magic can sustain me now.” Eleanor raised an eyebrow and studied Maddie critically. “How old do you think I am?”
The crone had looked at least a hundred years old, but something in Eleanor’s tone suggested the number was higher. Much higher. “I really have no idea.”
Teresa crept past the entrance of the cavern and disappeared into the trees. Maddie didn’t relax. Couldn’t afford to when the woman standing opposite her could take the shape of a panther and easily catch the fleeing teenager.
“My dear, I am five hundred and twenty-two years old. Hold it well, don’t I?”
Maddie blinked. Five hundred and twenty-two years old? No wonder the woman was mad—she’d watched the entire world change around her while she remained the same.
“What about Hank? How old was he?”
“He was younger by several hundred years. It took me a while to find a man who was both trainable and, shall we say, as bloodthirsty as me.”
The sound of a branch snapping whipped across the clearing, as sharp as a gunshot. Eleanor spun around and stared into the trees.
Maddie waited tensely, listening to the silence and hoping Teresa had the good sense not to move. After several long heartbeats, Eleanor turned back.
“As much as I have enjoyed our little chat, it’s time to move. Our guests are approaching.”
Something in Eleanor’s dark gaze made Maddie retreat a step. Eleanor smiled and waved her left hand casually. Ice snapped across Maddie’s skin and held her tight. She couldn’t move, could only watch as Eleanor made another motion with her hand and encased her in a wide circle of fire.
“Now, for my masterpiece.” The flames parted as Eleanor walked through them, like slaves bowing before their master. “But I’m afraid you won’t be around to see it.”
The witch waved a hand. Maddie’s silent scream was lost as the darkness encased her mind.
“DON’T MOVE,” JON WARNED SOFTLY.
He knelt down and studied the trail ahead. Something didn’t feel right.
He picked up the rock near his feet and lobbed it ten feet ahead. There was a slight tremor in the bushes to his left, and a swoosh of air as an arrow imbedded itself in the tree trunk to their right. He watched it quiver lightly in the mottled light of the forest. White ash, just like the one that had landed him in the well. And, in an odd sort of way, sent him Maddie.
“Set off by motion, and placed to injure, not kill,” Mack commented softly.
Jon nodded and picked up another rock, lobbing it farther ahead. Another arrow thudded into a tree. “Just in case the first one missed.” A third rock had no effect.
He glanced back down the trail and frowned. A whisper of movement told him they were being followed. Mack’s men, probably. It certainly didn’t feel like Eleanor. Besides, the witch wouldn’t make any noise.
He turned his attention back to the trail ahead. He couldn’t feel any more traps. “Looks safe to move on.”
He rose and led the way forward. No more arrows thudded out of trees to greet them—in fact, the trail seemed entirely too easy. He’d expected Eleanor to play with him a bit more, yet he was over halfway up the mountain and so far had only a few poorly placed arrows to contend with.
Worry snaked through his gut. Something was wrong.
Ahead, a branch snapped—a sharp sound that seemed to echo through the unnatural silence of the forest. He stopped quickly, listening. For several seconds there was no further sound, then he heard a soft, fearful sob. Even as hope rose, he squashed it. The sob didn’t belong to Maddie—it was much too young-sounding. Eleanor would have no doubt ensured the mountain was empty of human habitation—she certainly couldn’t afford to have strangers wandering into the middle of her blood sacrifice. Which meant the person he could hear just might be the kidnapped girl. From the sound of it, she was heading down the trail toward them.
“Trouble?” Mack asked quietly, his hand hovering near his gun.
“Someone’s running toward us—someone who’s frightened and unsteady on their feet. It just might be our missing kid.”
Mack raised his eyebrow. “You can tell all this standing here?”
Jon gave him a grim smile. “I can. And so can Eleanor, if she’s as close as we are. Let’s move.”
They scrambled up the trail, ducking low-hanging branches and trying to make as little noise as possible. Jon leaped over a slime-encrusted rock, but his footing slipped coming down, and he landed awkwardly. A needle-hot lance of pain ran up his leg. He swore to himself and limped on for several more steps, then stopped and grabbed at his leg.
Mack did a quick sidestep to avoid running into him. “Problem?”
“Tore my damn leg open again.” Blood was beginning to seep through his jeans and past his fingers. It was a smell that would attract a hunter like Eleanor if she were anywhere nearby.
Mack took a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it out. “Here, use this.”
Jon accepted it with a grunt of thanks and quickly tied it around the wound, tightening it as much as he dared. A soft gasp made him glance up. Not ten feet away stood a thin, pale girl. He might have thought her little more than a wraith except for the heaving of her chest, the sharp tang of fear in the turbulent swirl of her emotions.
Mack’s sudden stillness suggested the FBI agent had also spotted her.
Jon didn’t dare move. If either of them did, he sensed she’d run. “Teresa?”
The girl nodded once, dark eyes wide as her gaze flitted between the two of them. “Is one of you Jon?”
“I am.” He straightened carefully, the knot in his stomach suddenly more painful than his leg. Given that she knew his name, the teenager had to have been talking to Maddie. Which meant Maddie had somehow helped her escape, but at what cost to herself? “This is Mack, from the FBI.”
“You have to get me out of here. She’s up there, she’ll come after me …” Teresa glanced quickly up the trail, then took a few stumbling steps toward them. “Please, we have to get out of here.”
Her dark eyes were frantic and glassy. Running on sheer terror, he thought, and shared a grim look with Mack. “You take her down. I’ll continue on.”
“You can’t take on Eleanor alone and expect to win.”
“I know.” He raked a hand through his hair and glanced up the trail. Maddie was up there, somewhere. And he sensed her time was running out. “I know your men aren’t far behind us. Take the girl to them, then come back up. But remember, Eleanor is a shapeshifter. Don’t trust any animal you see in this forest.”
Mack raised an eyebrow. “Not even a hawk?”
“Especially a hawk,” Jon said grimly. “I won’t be shapeshifting to fight Eleanor, so it won’t be me you see.”
Mack nodded, then squatted, making himself a less formidable sight to the frightened teenager. “Let’s get you down the mountain and see what we can do to find your mom and dad.”
Tears misted the teenager’s eyes. She edged forward, timidly taking Mack’s hand when he held it out.
“Please, we have to hurry,” she whispered, casting another fearful look up the mountain.
“Don’t you worry about that old witch. Jon will take care of her.” Mack’s gaze met Jon’s for a moment, and Jon sm
iled grimly. It wasn’t hard to guess at the unspoken words in Mack’s mind. I hope.
Mack and the girl headed back down the mountain. Jon gave the blood-soaked handkerchief a tug, testing its tightness, then glanced up the trail. Teresa hadn’t looked strong enough to make it too far on her own, so Eleanor and Maddie couldn’t be far away. He just had to hope his leg would hold out until he got there.
Fifteen minutes later, he leaned against the twisted wreck of an old pine and struggled to see past the sweat stinging his eyes.
Maddie was a mere fifty feet away, but it might as well have been a thousand. She lay on the ground, arms outstretched. He couldn’t see if she was tied. Couldn’t see if she was awake or hurt. In fact, he could barely see her at all through the ring of pale flame that surrounded her.
Trying to ignore the painful twist in his gut, he let his gaze travel around the clearing. There was no sign of Eleanor, but she had to be close. The taint of magic hung so heavily in the air that it was making him sick.
Or was that fear?
His gaze was drawn back to Maddie. Had she moved? Did she know he was near?
He pushed away from the tree and wiped the sweat from his eyes. An almost expectant hush hung over the clearing. Beyond the strangely colored flames, there was nothing that might indicate what sort of trap was waiting. He smiled grimly, his gaze drawn back to the trees on the opposite side of the clearing. Eleanor was there somewhere, waiting and watching.
Why make her wait any longer than necessary? The only way to discover what she planned was to walk straight into her trap—and hope Seline hadn’t underestimated the amulet’s power.
He dropped Maddie’s pack near the base of the tree, then limped into the clearing. A shiver of anticipation seemed to run through the air. He listened for any sound that might indicate an attack but kept his gaze on the figure lying in the center of the flames. Still no movement, no sound from Maddie.
He stopped three feet away from the flames. A tingle ran from the ground and up his body, and the amulet sprang to life, burning fiercely against his throat. He glanced down. He’d stepped into some sort of star drawn into the ground. Magic. But what had Eleanor intended it to do?
Laughter, high and unstable, shattered the silence. Eleanor stepped out of the trees, a predatory smile dominating her thin features.
“I thought you’d be a tougher catch, shapeshifter.” She brushed a long strand of hair away from her face with a hand that wavered between burned and un-burned flesh.
He frowned. The burned hand was obviously Maddie’s work, but why was the witch wasting energy to cover it up? Vanity, perhaps? “Maybe you’ve overestimated me.”
Eleanor’s dark eyes were watchful despite her triumphant air. “Oh, I doubt that very much.” She hesitated, her face surreal in the odd light of the pale orange flames. “Perhaps you’d best rid yourself of those white-ash daggers you have in your boots.”
Electricity raced up his legs from the ground, swirling around his body like a cord, yet never really touching him. He sensed it was somehow meant to make him obey. That he didn’t surely had to indicate that the amulet burning against his throat was working. He bent and slowly took out the two daggers from his boots, then tossed them to one side. For the moment, at least, it was better to let Eleanor think she had him in her power. He left the smaller dagger hidden in his coat. Eleanor didn’t mention it, so maybe she couldn’t sense it through the leather.
“Let Maddie go, Eleanor. She’s of no use to you.”
Eleanor grinned. “I can’t set her free, shapeshifter, but you can.”
He raised his eyebrows, feigning unconcern despite the churning in his gut. “How, when you have me pinned to this spot?”
Eleanor’s smile widened, which meant his guess was right. The star was meant to do nothing more than temporarily immobilize him.
“There’s no fun in defeating an enemy who cannot move. You will be free soon enough.”
Eleanor was too calm and Maddie too still. Sweat trickled down his back. The whole situation seemed way beyond his control. “Then what will stop me from ripping out your heart, witch?”
“Oh, you can try, but the price will be your lover’s death.”
His gaze ran back to Maddie. Despite the chill in the air, her slender body was flushed with heat. It burned across her skin, beacon bright against the cold flames surrounding her. Sweat beaded her forehead and darkened her burnished hair. Even her T-shirt clung damply to her skin. The pale flames surrounding her held no warmth, so why was she so hot?
He met Eleanor’s gaze and saw the uneasy mix of amusement and cruelty in the dark depths of her eyes. The witch wanted them all to pay—him for his interference, Maddie for burning her hand … Then his heart gave a sickening lurch. Maddie was a fire-starter. The heat was internal.
He flexed his fingers. “Let her go, Eleanor, and I am yours.”
Her responding smile was little more than a sharp snarl. Her form was blurring, shifting shape, becoming something less than human—but not quite catlike. “She has five minutes, shapeshifter.” Her voice was a purr, deep and menacing. “But to rescue her, you must defy my spell and then defeat me.”
Blood trickled down his leg; its sweet smell seemed to hang heavily in the air. The craving in Eleanor’s inhuman gaze grew stronger.
“What spell?” he asked, watching her form shiver and darken, becoming more catlike with every passing heartbeat.
“The flames, shapeshifter. They will devour the very essence of your soul.” Her sharp smile was little more than the snarl of a panther. “They will take your shapeshifting abilities from you.”
“No …” The denial escaped before he could stop it. He was a shapeshifter. It was an integral part of what he was. It couldn’t be ripped away without killing him.
“It won’t destroy you, shapeshifter.” Her voice had become little more than a rough growl, her shape a breath away from the panther. She was retaining only enough humanity to speak. “That would be too easy. You must pay for the trouble you have caused me. Pay with pain.”
Her paws hit the ground, and with another snarl, she sprang. Not away from the flames, but into them—straight at Maddie.
“No!” He leaped forward, hitting the flames. Pain ripped through his body and tore a scream from his throat. For a frightening heartbeat there was nothing but emptiness; then he hit the ground and darkness claimed him.
MADDIE JERKED AWAKE. FOR SEVERAL SECONDS SHE STARED at the mist-shrouded trees high above her and wondered where she was. She felt the damp ground pressing into her back, the caress of the cool breeze against her heat-fevered skin, and it only added to her confusion.
Then memory returned with a thump. She was burning up, killing herself because Eleanor had somehow looped her fire-starting abilities. And because she didn’t understand how to fully control them, she couldn’t stop the fires raging deep inside from consuming her.
If she attacked Eleanor, she’d kill herself instead.
Something black flew over her head. White teeth flashed a second before a snarl cut through the silence. The ragged sound of a gasp cut through the air—Jon. She didn’t question her sudden certainty. He was here and in trouble because of her.
I have to help him. Somehow, I have to stop Eleanor. But her body refused to obey her. Despite the heat flushing every pore, her limbs were locked in ice. She couldn’t move; she was barely able to breathe. The panther snarled again. A heartbeat later there was a guttural sound of pain. Dear God, what’s happening to him?
She struggled to shift her head. Sweat ran down her forehead and stung her eyes. She blinked the moisture away and gritted her teeth. Her breath became a hiss of pain as the ice tightened around her neck.
I have to move … But how? Her one weapon had been leashed and the icy noose around her neck tightened every time she shifted. Damn it, there had to be some way to free herself! Fire surged in response to her desperation, burning through her veins, the sheer force of it making her feel as tho
ugh she was beginning to melt from the inside out. Maddie bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Attack me, and you will kill yourself, Eleanor had told her. Was that the key? Not attacking Eleanor? What if she turned her fires on something else instead of the witch? What if she turned it in? Attacked herself—and the things that bound her—first? She had nothing to lose by trying. Nothing but her life—and Eleanor intended to take that either way.
She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sounds of fighting as she imagined the flames surging through her body and dancing around her neck. Imagined them attacking the icy noose, melting it, cracking it. Heat surged up to her throat, and the sweat dripping from her forehead became a river. But the ice splintered, just as she’d imagined, and suddenly her head and arms were free.
She twisted around, trying to see what was going on. Jon and Eleanor were silhouetted against the brightness of the flames. Jon was on his back, struggling to hold the panther standing astride his prone body at arm’s length. Blood soaked his jeans, and a bloody rent marred his left side. The panther was unharmed, toying with its prey.
She clenched her hands against the instinct to attack Eleanor with her fire and quickly scanned the trees above. After a moment, she spotted a branch that hung far enough over the clearing. Half closing her eyes, she stared at the limb and reached down to the fires boiling through her body, imagining them looping through her flesh, then spinning out into the darkness toward that branch. The response was quick and deadly. The branch exploded into flame and, with a crack that ricocheted through the clearing, fell to the ground. The cat snarled in fright and leapt away from Jon. He scrambled awkwardly to his feet but didn’t flee.
“Maddie, run!” he gasped. He stood between her and the panther, a bloodied warrior still ready for battle.
She could barely move, let alone run. And even if she were able to, she wouldn’t have. He was ready to die defending her. She had nothing left to offer him but the same willingness to trade her life for his.