An excerpt from
BREATH OF MAGIC
by Cheyenne McCray
© Copyright Cheyenne McCray, 2008

Chapter 1

If only she could fly like Conlan, she could get herself out of this mess.

Sydney Aline gritted her teeth and clenched the ledge over her head as tightly as she could. The toes of her jogging shoes barely reached a much narrower ledge on the outside wall of the abandoned hotel.

Her and her damned divining.

She sure hadn’t seen this coming. What good was a D’Anu witch who couldn’t divine her own future? Especially when it involved dangling from a friggin’ ledge.

The adrenaline pumping through her body helped keep her moving and glued to the side of the hotel. Sydney took a deep breath and started to inch her way toward one of the hotel’s second floor windows. Now that she was up close and personal with the building’s wall, she could smell the age of the bricks and the pollution coating them.

Once she reached the window, if she held onto the ledge with one hand, she could use her other to release her magic and open the window. End of problem.

Please let it be that easy.

She’d scraped her fingers raw from catching herself when she slipped from the ledge that was now above her head instead of under her feet. She’d been creeping along, doing just fine, until a part of the foot path crumbled. She’d slipped and barely grabbed an intact part of the ledge. She could have fallen three stories. Even though she was a witch, she wasn’t likely to bounce and recover from that kind of fall.

Now she just had to get to that window.

And Conlan. Where was that Tuatha D’Danann warrior, anyway? The one who could morph a pair of wings whenever he wanted to. The one who sure as the goddess could help her out, right about now.

That gorgeous hunk of a man who makes me hot with just one look.

Sydney groaned and moved another inch closer toward the window. Her arms ached and trembled. The only reason she should be thinking about Conlan at this moment was to save her butt. Dear Anu, how she hated being in a position where she needed his help.

Okay, skip that thought. Her pride would remain intact if he would return from scouting for demons, swoop down, and get her out of this mess. When she’d climbed up the corner of the building, she’d been so sure she could just ease herself toward the window because that ledge had been fairly wide. She wasn’t afraid of heights. Well, maybe right now she was.

She wasn’t crazy at the idea of him flying her up there, so they had just planned to meet at the third floor window. No biggie. She’d just started without him.

Another inch. She bit her lower lip, putting all her focus into making it to the window.

When she’d divined that they would possibly find a dark warlock here—a bastard named

Darkwolf who happened to be in possession of an evil god’s stone eye—she’d certainly not seen herself outside in the foggy, dreary, San Francisco day, clinging to the side of the hotel.

Too bad her Doberman familiar, Chaos, wasn’t here to alert Conlan to her situation. She could use Chaos’s magic to bolster her own. But his barking might draw Darkwolf’s attention—if she had divined correctly and he really was here.

Her skin felt sticky against her body armor which was covered by her T-shirt. Her jeans stuck to her legs and her arms were coated in the fine mist. At least she’d spelled her chic glasses to resist fog so that she could see through them on these kinds of days.

Which were frequent in San Francisco.

The body armor had been supplied by Jake Macgregor, captain of the San Francisco

Paranormal Special Forces. Right now it was weighing her down, making it harder for her to move.

Slowly, she worked her way toward the window. She did her best to ignore the pain in her
arms and legs from clinging so tightly to the ledge, and from the tenseness in her body.

The wind whipped up, causing her dark hair to fly into her face and get caught in her glasses. Now she could only see out of one eye.

Sydney wanted to scream. But she couldn’t let Darkwolf know she’d figured out his hiding place if he was here. Then he’d likely change locations and none of her sister D’Anu witches would be able to find him.

Not to mention the D’Danann warriors. The warriors were winged Fae fighters from Otherworld who had been helping the witches repel an invasion of demons.

Four of the warriors and witches had paired up—a witch with a warrior—and had been tracking Darkwolf for the past few days by breaking the city into quadrants. Now Sydney was sure she finally figured out where Darkwolf was and she was going to fall to her death before she caught the S.O.B. If Darkwolf was here, she’d contact the other witches and D’Danann before making contact with him.

Darkwolf started the whole invasion. The warlock bastard had summoned powers too great for him to control—Fomorii demons who worshiped the ancient, wicked god Balor and his murdering bitch of a wife. Sydney ground her teeth. They’d been dealing with the totally evil goddess for weeks now.

Because of Darkwolf bringing her to San Francisco, the she-goddess from hell had been able to slaughter thousands of humans and call her husband up from the depths of Underworld.

Balor was here. Now.

Thank Anu, Balor hadn’t found his eye yet. And he wouldn’t, if Sydney could keep herself alive and snag Darkwolf before he forked it over.

By the Goddess. When I get my hands around that warlock’s throat . . .

With a deep breath she moved another inch. Closer to her destination now. Maybe two feet away.

Her hair was driving her crazy the way it was stuck in her glasses.

I don’t know enough swear words to express how I feel right now.

On the other side of the window she was headed toward was a balcony with sliding glass doors. Why couldn’t she be closer to that?

Whose bright idea was it anyway to climb along a ledge to get in through the window on the third floor?

Mine, stupid.

Before Conlan left to scout out the rest of the hotel by flying around the perimeter, she’d told him she planned to climb up to the third floor and walk along that wide ledge to the first window.

Conlan had raised a brow and gave her a look that said, “Yeah, right,” only probably in Gaelic, and likely not that charitable. More like, “You should know better than this, but you’re a big girl. If you want to break your neck, who am I to stop you?”

With his teasing winks and sexy looks Sydney had wondered what it would be like to kiss him. To more than kiss him. Only she didn’t get involved with the playboy type. She didn’t do casual sexual relationships and Conlan had one-night-stand written all over him.

Sydney grunted as she worked her way along the ledge. She was going to get herself out of this. The window was closer now. Her arms were nearly numb and her fingers felt like she was shredding them with every movement she made along the ledge.

One would think that as a descendent of the Ancient Druids, and as a witch who practiced gray magic, she’d be able to use her powers to get along this ledge a little faster. But like other D’Anu witches, she had to have her hands free to use her powers.

Friggin’ inconvenient.

Almost there.

When Sydney finally reached the window, she almost cried with relief. She was going to do this. She was going to make it.

Slowly, carefully, she pried the fingers of her left hand from the ledge. All of her weight was now on the one hand and the toes of her jogging shoes.

Trying not to make any sudden moves, she lowered her left hand and blue sparkles of magic flowed from her palm to the window. She heard the click of the window lock. She tensed her jaw and moved her hand from the left to the right, opening the window with her magic. It gave a screeching noise like nails across a chalkboard that grated along her spine and sounded loud in the foggy afternoon.

What if Darkwolf heard it?

Sydney reached her left hand up to grasp the ledge again so she could climb in through the window.

The fingers of her right hand slipped.

She fell.

A scream tore from her throat.

At the same time she let loose a magic rope from her palm. It shot straight at the balcony on the other side of the window.

The rope wrapped around the top railing.

Heart beating like it was going to explode, Sydney clung to the blue magical rope with one hand. With a burst of effort, she swung her other hand up and grabbed the rope.

She almost sobbed with relief—and from the pain in her arms and hands as her own weight almost jerked her shoulders out of their sockets.

Idiot, idiot, idiot!

Thank the Ancestors she’d kept fit at the local gym. She’d never been good at climbing the rope in gym class, but she had the willpower to do it now.

It seemed like it took forever, but fraction by fraction Sydney worked her way up the rope and to the balcony’s railing. Blood pounded in her ears and sweat covered her body.

When she grasped the railing, she pulled herself up so that her toes were on the edge of the balcony. She swung her left foot over the railing, then tumbled into an ungraceful heap as her other leg followed.

For a long moment Sydney laid on her back staring up at the gray, foggy sky and the third story ledge where she’d been—minutes or was it hours ago?

She was so sore she didn’t think she’d be able to walk for a week. She barely had the strength to yank her hair out of her glasses so that she could see out of both eyes again.

After she’d caught her breath, she pushed herself to her feet. She wobbled a bit, and grasped the railing to steady herself.

Sydney glanced down.

Conlan stood on the ground two stories below, a glint in his eyes and his mouth quirked into a smile.

If you want to break your neck . . .

She was going to kill him.

There was no doubt in her mind that he’d just watched what was now the most embarrassing moment of her life. He could have helped her at any time. She was sure he’d just been waiting for her to fall before swooping up and catching her. But she’d saved her own butt.

Conlan was a huge D’Danann warrior with a broad chest, a very fit muscled body, long blond hair that dusted his shoulders, grass green eyes, and a dimple in his chin. He wore all black leather, from his sleeveless tunic to the pants tucked into his boots. He’d just arrived from Otherworld for the first time, so they hadn’t had a chance to outfit him in human clothing.

Ooh, he’d look good in a pair of jeans and a tight-fitting T-shirt. Almost as yummy as in all that leather.

Conlan’s features usually showed a hint of a smile and a teasing glint in his eyes. She’d only known him for a few days, but the man had already gotten under her skin. It irked her to no end because he wasn’t her type. So why did she fantasize so much about him?

Her. In bed.

After giving Mr. Wings-and-smile a glare that should have melted steel, Sydney whirled around—

And found herself face-to-face with Darkwolf and the evil god’s eye.

ORDER THE BOOK! | Back to Book