Chapter 1
San Francisco
Fifteen months prior
Copper Ashcroft moved through the fog-shrouded San Francisco night and shivered. Everything looked and felt exactly as it had in her dream-vision.
Rocks and twigs crunched beneath her running shoes as she made her way down the darkened trail to the sacred stretch of beach below, with only her wand light to illuminate the path. Tonight was a new moon and it was foggy as hell. But she knew her way and didn’t pause in her steps.
Her arms strained as she gripped the carved wooden chest bearing the tools of her witchcraft at the same time she carried the wand. Her breathing came easy. She was fit from regular exercise, playing softball, and toned from working out at the health club. She’d been a track star and a mean softball pitcher in high school, as well as being the lead pitcher on the California Bears team at U. C. Berkeley during her undergrad years.
Copper stumbled over a root and almost tumbled down the path. She grimaced and steadied herself. “Bless it,” she murmured. She’d known the root was there. “Too bad being fit and athletic doesn’t make me any less clumsy.”
Zephyr buzzed at her ear, but she ignored her honeybee familiar. She sensed Zeph’s unhappiness that she was attempting this moon ritual alone, but in Copper’s dream-vision she’d performed the ceremony with no one else around. For some reason the goddess wanted her to do this by herself.
She stepped from the dirt path onto sand when she reached the small portion of beach known only to the Coven of D’Anu witches to which she belonged. Her Coven was one of thirteen scattered across the United States. Many more Covens existed around the world, working to keep the cities they inhabited safe from dark magic. Descendents of the Ancient Druids, the D’Anu were powerful witches who used only white witchcraft.
Well, besides Copper and her sister, Silver. The sisters believed in utilizing gray magic to protect their world from the evils that preyed upon the innocent. If their father found out . . . they’d be in a world of trouble. Victor Ashcroft was high priest of the D’Anu Coven in Salem, Massachusetts, and he was a rather formidable man. Their mother, Moondust, was more an ethereal being, the calm in the storm. But she would agree with their father.
White witchcraft just wasn't strong enough as far as Copper was concerned. She was somewhat of a rebel when it came to choosing between white and gray, and she had no fear of the gray or ever slipping to the black.
With white magic, their skills were limited. Several of the D'Anu could affect the weather but they didn't dare tip the natural balance. Most could heal and work with animals, “talk through trees,” and make plants grow like crazy—even fast enough to help them bind an enemy. Useful, but . . . not strong enough.
Sand shifted beneath Copper’s jogging shoes as she heaved the chest higher in her arms and carried it across the small beach. Her jeans felt snug and comfortable and her cropped T-shirt allowed the coolness of the night to brush her flat belly. In the distance she could see a portion of the Golden Gate Bridge, its lights looping up and down in the darkness. A foghorn added to the eerie quality of the night and despite the familiar sound, goose bumps prickled her skin and tiny hairs rose up on the back of her neck.
Copper remembered the old Grimoire she and Silver had used to learn gray magic. Mrs. Illes had given it to them before she passed on to Summerland, and Silver still had it. The ancient book looked harmless enough, but the spells inside—well. As Copper had found out when she tried so summon the tide and ended up almost flooding the city, gray magic had the potential to blow the natural order all to hell. Gray witchcraft could help a lot, but it could also cause indirect harm, like hurting a living creature or subverting a being’s natural will.
If anyone of the D’Anu suspected that Copper and Silver practiced gray magic, the pair of them would be kicked out of the Coven. Even using the craft to track down criminals—it just wasn’t allowed.
Besides, gray witchcraft carried heavy-duty risk to most witches, too. Many believed there was such a fine line between gray and black that witches could feel the incredible power that darkness offered. If a gray witch became too emotionally entangled—her own anger, want, need—her spells could lean close to the black. She could use her magic for personal gain and power instead of the general good.
Touching gray, Copper could sense the immeasurable and powerful flow and pull of dark magic. Yet Copper didn’t fear it. She embraced gray magic. She had no doubt she wouldn’t tip to the dark side no matter how deep her gray magic ran. Silver wasn’t so sure and wasn’t as strong a gray witch as Copper was.
A knot twisted Copper’s belly as she allowed a brief flash of why she believed so strongly in gray magic. A childhood friend, Trista, had been murdered when Copper was sixteen. If Copper had been a strong gray witch at that time, she knew with every fiber of her being that she could have saved Trista.
Copper shoved the thought and the threat of tears away. When she reached her favorite part of the shore, she bent and dropped the chest. It made a dull thud that was almost lost in the sound of waves crashing against the shore. The wind off the water carried smells of fish and salt.
As she settled on her knees before the chest, she caught another scent that made her pause. Her skin prickled again. “Wolfsbane?” she murmured.
She shook her head, her shoulder-length copper-colored hair swinging with the movement. Your imagination is on overdrive, girl.
Holding her wand tight in one hand, Copper fumbled with the catch on the trunk using her other, but finally managed to flip the rusted latch open. “I really need to get that oiled,” she muttered. It was one of those things that tended to be low on the priority list.
Hinges creaked as she opened the trunk lid and peered at the contents. Zephyr landed on the curve of her ear just as her wand slipped from her fingers and tumbled inside. She lost her focus and her wand light went out.
“For the Ancestors’ sakes.” Her copper pentagram earrings swung against her neck as she rummaged around inside the chest until her fingers found her wand. She was never clumsy with her magic, but she tended to drop some things and knock over others.
The wand was made of copper and tipped with a round quartz crystal at one end and a pointed quartz crystal at the other. She gripped it tight in her hand and frowned when the crystal did not immediately brighten again. She focused her magical energy on the wand. This time golden light glittered from the crystal and caused the copper pentagram swinging from her bracelet to look as though it glowed against her wrist. She didn’t know what she’d do without her wand—her magic was powerful, but only with her wand. Her hand-magic wasn’t so hot.
Copper mounted the wand in a corner slot of the trunk where it continued to spill its golden light across the sand, making the grains sparkle like Faerie dust.
She quickly stripped out of her clothing, tossing her T-shirt, bra, shoes, socks, jeans, and thong in a heap on the sand. Even though her witchcraft helped keep most of the coldness at bay, the chilly San Francisco wind whipped at her body, causing her nipples to tighten. She hurried to slip on a shimmering earth-colored robe she dug out of the chest and wrapped it around her body.
Copper gathered her supplies, only dropping one candle and her incense burner as she strode a few feet away to where she would cast her circle. After she retrieved everything she needed, she placed each candle at the cardinal points—yellow for Air at the east, red for Fire at the south, blue for Water at the west, and green for Earth at the north.
She arranged her altar, careful not to spill her chalice as she filled it with purified water. As she reached for the cotton bag full of salt granules, her arm brushed the chalice, tipping it. Her heart raced as she dropped the bag to catch the cup before it could fall over and completely lose its contents. With a sigh of relief, she let go of her death grip on the cup and retrieved the cotton bag to pour salt to represent Earth into a small dish. Almost done. With her magic, she lit a black candle that represented both the new moon and Fire, and then she burned cinnamon incense for Air. Of course the filled chalice represented Water.
When Copper finished her preparations, she retrieved her glowing wand and returned to stand within the circle of candles. She took a deep breath. Everything she had just done was routine, yet it felt . . . different. It felt as her dream-vision had last night, and a sense of urgency filled her. Something wrong, terribly wrong was going to happen in San Francisco—unless she found a way to stop it.
Copper prepared to cast her protective circle. “Goddess I need your aid in learning as much as I can about the dangers I know the D’Anu will be facing.” I’ll inform Silver and the Coven about my dream-vision once I have more to tell.
She centered herself as she stared out at the ocean, breathing deep and releasing all tension from her body. The wand was warm in her hand from the magic that filled it. The golden glow it cast looked like early morning sunlight sparkling upon the water’s less than calm surface. It was time to cast her circle and perform the moon ritual.
In the ritual she would ask the goddess for aid in whatever evils were coming their way, and to show her a vision of what they were about to face. Copper was not a seer, she could only dream-vision as her divination talent. But sometimes—well, rarely, but still—the goddess would show her visions when she performed a moon ritual.
Copper breathed deeply, allowing all the night smells to fill her. There was definitely a difference between night and day scents, as if the moon cast its own delicate perfume over the world, even when it was shrouded.
Zeph crawled along the top of her ear as she prepared to cast the circle. Already she felt his magic mingling with hers. But she also sensed distress coming from the familiar. “What’s wrong?” she asked, wishing he could speak aloud. But she could only feel his agitation, as if he was worried about something.
Refocusing her attention, she let the earth-brown robe slide down her shoulders and arms to land around her feet in a satiny mass, leaving her body bare to be buffeted by the wind. Sand trickled between her toes as she widened her stance to shoulder-width apart, leaving her sex bare to be stroked by the night breeze just as that same rush of air hardened her nipples. Her shoulder-length hair teased the nape of her neck and she shivered from the combined sensations.
Copper raised her wand to start casting her circle when a sensation of dark power trailed down her spine and Zeph grew frantic, his wings buzzing. The scent of wolfsbane was strong this time, so very strong.
A presence behind her.
Someone . . . someone watching her.
Zephyr gave a buzz of warning. Copper gripped her wand tighter. Should she quickly attempt to cast the circle to keep evil away from her, or should she face whatever was behind her?
She was certain she didn’t have time to close the circle. She whirled and raised her wand so that its light might blind whatever being had crept up on her, and to use the wand’s magic if need be.
Copper’s pulse set to racing. Perhaps ten feet away from her stood a man. A breathtakingly handsome man with eyes as black as his hair, high cheekbones, and a cleft in his square chin.
Around his neck, on a thick chain, hung a stone eye that glittered in Copper’s wand light and glowed a deep red. The sight of it caused her stomach to churn before the red faded away.
What captured her attention the most was the controlled power emanating from the man. A power so intense and dark that Copper nearly recoiled. But she stood her ground. With a tilt of her chin, she narrowed her eyes and faced what she was certain to be a ruthless, incredibly powerful warlock.
“Leave,” Copper said, shoring up her magic at the same time. “This place is sacred. You don’t belong here.”
The warlock smiled, a smile as sensual as it was sinister. “Finally . . . a witch worthy of my time and my training.” He paused and brought his hand to the stone at his neck, the red glow returning and bleeding through his fingers. He gave a slow nod, as if in response to some communication from the eye. “Yes. There is another—you have a sister whose power is as great as yours, and she rides the line of gray magic just as you do. Only she is more . . . vulnerable.”
At the mention of her sister, a chill went through Copper and she straightened her spine. “Who are you?” She tried to ignore the bite of the wind as she stared the warlock down. This was the evil she had dream-visioned about. This was what . . . no, who she was to battle to save everything she loved.
She had to be rid of him before he destroyed what was good and pure. But how?
Zephyr gave an angry buzz and she sensed his desire to sting the man in front of her. “No,” she murmured. “Stay.”
The man raised his hand and beckoned to her. She felt the power of his touch on her naked body. It was as if his bare hand was stroking her, touching every intimate part of her. He took a step forward. “I am Darkwolf.”
“Well, Darkwolf,” she said as the glow intensified from the pointed end of her wand tip. “Stop right there or I’ll make you wish you’d stayed in the sewer you crawled out of.”
“I think not.” He moved closer and raised his hand so that his palm faced her.
She was certain she knew exactly what the goddess wanted her to do to keep them all safe. In a rush, Copper chanted.
Ancestors bless this wand and make it a sword
To send this evil to Otherworld!
Light blazed from Copper’s wand, so bright that it blinded even her. Power flooded her, power of the Ancestors, the goddess. But she needed more—the gray magic she held always at the ready.
She poured her gray magic into the spell with all that she had.
In the next moment something shimmered before her. Something alien. Something that couldn’t have been just from the warlock.
From the eye?
Her spell struck the magical shield that was so strong her witchcraft rebounded. The spell shot straight back at her. Before she had time to form a spellshield, her own magic slammed into her and flung her high, into the air . . .
She was falling . . . falling . . . falling . . .
Into sunlight. Into the breath of spring.
She landed face down, her bare skin upon the softest grass she had ever felt. The rich scent of it and dark loam filled her senses, along with the perfume of rose petals. Vaguely she heard the sound of Zephyr buzzing and the faintest music . . . Faerie song.
She tried to raise her head, but the Faerie music grew ever fainter. Light faded. Darkness came and swept her away on swift wings.
Chapter 2
San Francisco
Present Day, fifteen months after Copper’s disappearance
Tiernan, a Tuatha D’Danann warrior and Lord of the House of Cathal in Otherworld, narrowed his gaze at the two human witches in Silver Ashcroft’s apartment. He raked his fingers through his blond hair as both Silver and Rhiannon focused intently on fog now wafting from the pewter cauldron like smoke from a campfire.
Hawk shifted beside Tiernan and he sensed the man’s unease. Hawk was also a D’Danann Enforcer who hailed from Otherworld. But Tiernan was nobility. Hawk was not.
The D’Danann were powerful winged Fae warriors, who could unfold or hide their large feathered wings at will, and had the ability to shield themselves from human sight when searching the skies for signs of whatever beings they looked for. The D’Danann could wrench the head from an enemy and tear their hearts out with one strike to the chest.
“Oh, my goddess,” Silver whispered, drawing Tiernan’s full attention as the fog began to take shape. Her silvery-blond hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned closer to the cauldron. “It’s the Balorites and the Fomorii. They’re in a chamber—a cavern. Opening a great door.”
Tiernan unfolded his arms from across his chest and his breathing grew a little more rapid.
Rhiannon’s face had gone from her normal fair complexion to an even paler shade. The witch who had chin-length auburn hair and usually a feisty look to her green eyes was not one to show fear. However her expression this time made him uneasy, especially when she said, “They’re not—they wouldn’t.”
Tiernan started to stride forward, to see what the witches were observing, but Hawk held out his arm, blocking Tiernan. He could have forced himself past the warrior’s arm, but he realized Hawk’s action held wisdom. The witches could not perform their task with interference.
“Balor.” Silver swallowed, her throat working as Tiernan watched, his muscles tense. “I see him and his great single eye. I see the Balorites—and other beings—freeing both Balor’s body and his soul.”
Tiernan’s heart set to pounding despite the fact he normally held little faith in human witch divination.
Rhiannon braced her hands on the wooden table the cauldron perched on, her knuckles white from how tightly she clenched her fists. Her face was so close to the fog that it caressed her cheeks.
Silver recoiled, her palm over her mouth, before she dropped her hand. “How can they? He was exiled far below Otherworld. Beyond Underworld, even.”
Tiernan could not help the rumble that rose up in his chest at the memory of Balor’s exile centuries ago. From the corner of his eye he saw Hawk give him a disapproving look.
Rhiannon backed away from the table, but kept her eyes on the fog. “Somehow Darkwolf and the Fomorii will find a way to free Balor—if we don’t stop them first.” Rhiannon’s gaze swung to Silver then back to the cauldron. “What—what’s that?” She studied the foggy shapes above the cauldron. “No, who is that?”
Silver’s shoulders began shaking and tears started rolling down her cheeks. “It’s Copper—” Her voice came out in a strained whisper. “She’s stretched out like she’s a sacrifice.”
“And she’s bleeding,” Rhiannon said, horror written across her expression.
Tiernan’s gut wrenched and he grew cold.
The fog diminished until nothing was left but a faint spiral and then it was gone, too.
In mere strides, Hawk had Silver in his arms. She gripped the front of his tunic in her fists and sobbed freely against his chest. “I’ve scried and scried to find Copper since she vanished and have seen nothing. But now, to see her like that? Oh, goddess.”
Hawk held her tight as she continued to cry.
Tiernan clenched his jaw and turned to Rhiannon. “Tell me everything you saw.”
The usually calm and collected witch visibly trembled as she raised her chin to look up at him. “You heard every word. The Balorites and Fomorii are searching for a way to free Balor.”
He tried to keep his voice steady. “Are you sure this will happen? Or has it already happened?”
Rhiannon steadied herself by placing one hand on the table beside the cauldron. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before releasing it again. For a moment the witch went still. Her breathing became heavier, her expression twisting to one of pain. Tiernan watched the rapid movement of her eyes behind her eyelids, as if she were dreaming or watching a scene unfold within her mind.
Finally she opened her eyes. “My sight tells me it hasn’t happened yet. Other beings are helping to search for the door that will free Balor. I have no idea how soon they will locate it, though.”
“Copper.” Silver sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her swollen, red eyes. “She was there, tied down in some kind of circle, and her eyes were closed. Someone, something was bleeding her.”
Tiernan glanced to the frames sitting next to Silver’s computer and saw one of the pictures of the laughing redhead. Every time he saw the pictures he found himself intrigued by the missing woman. For some reason the thought of something happening to her made him beyond furious, heat quickly chasing away the chill that had overcome him.
“You are certain it was your sister? You are certain your vision is true?” Tiernan asked in a voice that sounded harsh and full of the disbelief that ran deep within him.
Silver’s spine stiffened and her gaze snapped to Tiernan’s. “There is no doubt in my mind.”
Hawk glared at Tiernan, his jaw tense. “I do not care if you are a lord. You do not speak to my mate in such a manner.”
Before Tiernan could respond, the door swung open. Alyssa and Sydney stumbled into the room. Both witches were flushed, as if from running.
“We divined where the Balorites and Fomorii are,” Alyssa said in a rush. “But you need to hurry because they are leaving.”
Tiernan eased around the corner of what appeared to be an abandoned building, his muscles tense and his jaw clenched. His senses were on full alert and his body prepared to unleash his wings and launch into the air at a moment’s notice. He gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, where it rested beneath his long, black coat.
It was an unusually warm day for San Francisco, and sweat trickled along the side of his face and down his neck to his chest. He would have preferred the cover of darkness, but if the witches’ scrying was correct the remaining warlocks and Fomorii demons were currently using this building as their base, or had fled. He was hoping for the former. What he wouldn’t give to kick some demon ass right now. Capturing at least a few warlocks would make his day, too.
The Fomorii were demons summoned from Underworld by the Balorite warlocks before Samhain. Fomorii could inhabit another being’s body, killing the host instantly while the demon took over the being’s shell, virtually becoming that person or creature. In their natural state, the demons were of hideous shapes and colors. Some had one eye like the god Balor, while others had multiple. Their limbs were odd sized or numerous as well. They had long needle-like teeth and horrible claws. The Formorii had started tipping their claws in iron which was deadly to Elves and Fae, including the D’Danann.
Even though he could not see his comrades just yet, Tiernan knew that Hawk and the other D’Danann Enforcers crept just as quietly around the building, and some of the D’Danann had flown to the rooftop to gain entrance. The witches who had insisted on accompanying them were surprisingly as light-footed as the D’Danann.
When Tiernan passed an open window, a whiff of rotten fish invaded his nose. Yes. The stench of the Fomorii. Only there was not more than a hint of it. No doubt the D’Danann and witches were too late, but he never let down his guard.
Tiernan reached the steps leading to the door of the building and Hawk appeared around the corner, across from him.
“I fear they have left,” Tiernan said in mind-speak to Hawk.
“Aye.” Hawk gave a sharp nod of agreement, but held his sword at the ready, just as Tiernan did.
Part of the D’Danann magic was the ability to tread so lightly when they willed it, not even the slightest sound could be heard. Despite their size, their boots, and their muscled bulk, not a single step creaked beneath Tiernan’s and Hawk’s combined weight as they eased their way up the weathered stairs.
However, they could not control the squeak of the doorknob or the scrape of the rotting door as Tiernan opened it. The peeling paint was rough beneath his palm when he placed it against the wood and pushed it all the way open. At once he smelled dust and decay along with the demon stench.
They entered a narrow hallway and the smell of Fomorii grew stronger. But not strong enough. As they worked their way through the building, Tiernan and Hawk communicated with their fellow warriors using mind-speak and learned that the other warriors, too, had found nothing. From what Tiernan could discern, the building was apparently void of any furniture or other objects. It was stripped bare—it probably had been that way before the Fomorii had taken possession of it. The smell of rotten fish and deep gouges in the floor and on the walls were the only signs the demons had been there.
Toward the end of their search, Tiernan came upon a scrap of old parchment that was out of place in this modern world. He found it in a cobwebbed corner of one of the rooms. He frowned as he retrieved the tattered paper that felt rough between his fingers. An ink drawing was embellished across its surface—a vertical rectangle with a circle beneath it. A smaller ring was within the larger circle, and strange runes were etched in the space between the two circles.
Hawk came up beside Tiernan and studied the drawing as well. “I believe either you have found something of import,” Hawk said, “or something meant to lead us astray. Perhaps Silver or one of the other witches can use their knowledge or their divination skills to determine its meaning.”
Tiernan gently rolled the worn parchment and slipped it into the pocket of his black overcoat that covered his weapons. At one time he hadn’t given much stock in human witches. Not until the D’Anu, with the assistance of the D’Danann, had vanquished a good number of the Fomorii and sent the beasts back to Underworld.
And until today he still had found some difficulty in trusting human witches and their so-called powers of divination. They were so much like the Elves from his home in Otherworld. Every one of his people knew you could not trust one of the Elves. Well, everyone except for Hawk—he trusted them all too well.
When they found no other clues, Hawk and Tiernan gave orders to return to their home base.
Damn the Underworlds, the Fomorii were still one step ahead of them.
Tiernan folded his arms across his chest and focused his gaze intently on the witch, Silver Ashcroft. She was standing, slightly bent over her scrying cauldron. The piece of parchment was still in his pocket. He intended to show it to the witches when Silver finished her second scrying attempt. The room carried the scent of Silver’s lily perfume and some kind of citrus smell that she said she used to cover up the musty odor of the old apartment.
The witch, Hawk, and Tiernan, were again in Silver’s apartment within a building in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco. The building was owned by Jake Macgregor, a Special Forces agent who dealt with paranormal crimes. After Silver was banished from the powerful D’Anu Coven she had belonged to, for using gray magic, several of her sister witches left with her to form their own D’Anu Coven. But this Coven was now entirely made up of witches willing to use gray magic.
Jake had offered a portion of the building he owned to the D’Danann and the D’Anu witches to use as a headquarters while they searched for the rest of the Fomorii demons and Balorite warlocks. Jake had inherited the building from a wealthy uncle and drew a steady rent income from residents, but fortunately had several available apartments.
Men and women who used white or gray witchcraft were considered to be witches. Males and females who practiced black magic were warlocks. The Balorites were an especially sinister Clan that served the ancient, evil god Balor whose essence had apparently been released from his purgatory or was otherwise able to influence the Balorites.
Silver drew Tiernan’s attention as he looked back to her cauldron where wisps of fog still rose in lazy spirals. “I saw Darkwolf, and that demon, Junga, when I scried,” Silver said with a touch of anger. “I couldn’t tell what they were talking about, but Darkwolf was looking over some kind of map.”
Hawk rested his hand on Silver’s shoulder and said, “Do you know where the bastards are?”
Silver sighed and shook her head, her long silvery-blond hair spilling over her shoulders with the movement. “Not yet.” She glanced from Hawk to Tiernan, a determined look in her stormy gray eyes. “But I will find them.”
“Were there any clues?” Tiernan rubbed his temples. “Did you notice anything about the place they occupied when you had this—this vision?”
Silver nodded. “I was just about to get to that.” She pulled away from Hawk and paced the length of the apartment’s common room, her heels clicking on the tile floor. Her silk blouse pulled against her breasts and her skirt reached mid-thigh. Her apparel was much different than the D’Danann ladies of the court who tended to wear long dresses with full skirts.
Tiernan actually preferred the clothing of Silver and of the D’Danann warrior women, over the ladies of the court who wore silks and satins. The D’Danann warrior women girded themselves in leather tunics and breeches, as did the male warriors. But it was not for him to say what the women of the court wore.
“I saw books—lots of them,” Silver said. “It was like they were in some kind of library.”
Tiernan raised an eyebrow and Hawk grunted.
Silver continued her pacing. “It could have been a public or private library, or even a bookstore.”
“Let us hope for the easiest solution.” Tiernan narrowed his gaze at Silver. “The common—public—areas.”
“I bet it’s not that simple.” Silver sighed and paused in her pacing to glance at her desk in one corner of the apartment. She went to the desk and picked up a photograph. “I can’t help but hope that once we locate that damned warlock Darkwolf, we’ll be able to find Copper.” Her voice caught and he could hear the tears in her voice. “Before something happens to her. That vision can’t come true. It just can’t.”
Tiernan moved closer to Silver to view the picture of her sister.
“Darkwolf,” Silver’s had an edge of anger to her tone. “When we battled the Fomorii and Balorites at Samhain, he alluded to knowing what happened to her. Maybe even having something to do with her disappearance.”
“We will find her,” Hawk said as he wrapped one arm around Silver’s shoulders and squeezed her close to him.
Without asking, Tiernan took the photograph from Silver’s hands. He studied the woman in the picture, his gaze taking in the face he had already memorized. Every curve of her Fae features, the sprinkling of Faerie kisses across her nose, her cinnamon eyes, her copper-colored hair. She was aptly named. It was one of many times he had studied the picture. Of course it was because he needed to know Copper by sight should he find her.
He ignored the irrational stirring in his gut and his groin. He was to be mated with one of the women within the D’Danann High Court. His bonding with Airell of the House of Torin would bring together two powerful houses—there would be no room for trifling with other females beyond sex. Least of all a human, part Elvin, witch.
He handed the picture back to Silver whose gaze was pinned on him as if she knew his thoughts. As if she knew the primal urges within him every time he looked at the picture of her sister who smiled with such mischief in her eyes.
Irrational.
His was an ordered world. He was methodical and never impulsive. Such a woman would never be an attraction to him.
Silver placed the picture back onto her desk. “I can tell you where the closest libraries are, and the bookstores.”
Tiernan and Hawk watched as Silver dug a map of the city out of her desk then spread it out on the cluttered wooden surface beside her computer.
The two D’Danann warriors pored over the map as Silver searched a book with yellow pages, and looked up each bookstore and library by address to identify their locations.
When they had marked the areas for every library and bookstore Silver found, Tiernan and Hawk took the sheet of paper with the locations that they would split among the D’Danann. The warriors could fly from one site to the next more easily than Silver would be able drive to each bookstore—much less find parking spaces.
As usual, she argued with them. Tiernan was certain he had not met a more vexing woman—D’Danann, Fae, witch, or human.
“I’ll search the bookstore in Union Square, and others in the vicinity.” Silver gestured to the ones she would look into. “You check the others.”
It was pointless to argue with the witch. “Take Rhiannon with you,” Hawk finally said. “It will be safer.”
Silver nodded. “Agreed.”
Hawk took her hand in his and started toward the door. “We had best hurry.”
Silver, Hawk, and Tiernan headed out of the aging building to the store the witches had rented just a few doors down from the apartments. Along with Jake, the witches had combined resources to remodel and open the once boarded-up store, making it into a New Age café similar to Moon Song, a store/café that Silver had run for the D’Anu Coven before she was banished.
They had named the new store and café Enchantments, and it was quickly becoming a popular place in what Silver said was the most New Age and one of the most artistic parts of San Francisco.
All Tiernan cared about was the fact that Cassia baked the best food he had ever eaten in all of the Otherworlds. D’Danann were notorious for the amount of food they could consume. He was no exception.
Enchantment’s kitchen was the main gathering place for the D’Danann and witches. It afforded more room than Moon Song had, which was an added benefit. The warriors could eat their fill with most of the witches cooking for everyone. Fortunately, their income from the store paid for enough food to satisfy the D’Danann appetites. The warrior women could match the men bite for bite, and still remain toned and muscular.
When they reached the kitchen of Enchantments, Tiernan’s stomach rumbled. The kitchen smelled of spices and fresh-baked pumpkin bread.
Silver called to Cassia who was wiping her hands on her apron. The blue-eyed, curly-headed witch was part Elvin and had an ethereal glow about her now that her true identity had been revealed. Before she had let her true self be known, she had acted the part of a clumsy, inept witch to better protect Silver from the dangers she had faced before Samhain.
Tiernan grabbed a slice of warm pumpkin bread and Hawk scooped up a chocolate chip cookie.
As he ate the bread, Tiernan dug the piece of parchment he had found out of his pocket and handed it to Cassia.
“Where did you get this?” Her eyes widened. “I don’t recognize these runes at all.” She shuddered and goose bumps appeared on her forearms. “All I can tell is there’s something very wicked about them. This paper is shrouded in evil.”
Silver quirked an eyebrow at Tiernan. “What’s that?”
He shrugged. “I do not know.”
Cassia kept the parchment close as she drew out her black and gold rune stones. She tumbled them onto a clean portion of the counter and studied them. “The stones give no additional clues save that we are in grave danger.”
“So what’s new?” Silver words sounded flippant, but her eyes held that same dark concern that had been present ever since she saw the vision of the coming of Balor and of her sister.
Cassia gave the parchment to Silver. Immediately the witch started shaking so hard the parchment trembled in her fingertips and she looked as if she might faint or throw up. Or both. Tiernan would have taken her by the arm to aid her if Hawk had not already been at her side. “This is the circle,” Silver said in a hoarse whisper. “Copper was tied down in a circle just like this when I scried with the cauldron this morning.”
Rhiannon took the parchment from Silver. The moment the witch’s hands touched the parchment her face paled as it had earlier. As she held it tighter, she said, “I get the feeling of immeasurable evil.” She inhaled and slowly let out her breath. “I see a door within a massive room. The circles are engraved into the floor with the runes scraped or carved into it.”
Tiernan studied Rhiannon and the parchment. He could easily see now that the vertical rectangle could be a door, and the circles could be on a floor before it. A look of relief swept over Rhiannon’s face when Mackenzie took it from her.
With an expression of distaste, the petite blond set the parchment on the kitchen table then dealt her tarot cards into a Celtic cross. Among other things, the cards revealed grave danger and battles ahead, but also that a new friend would be taking a journey and an old friend would be returning.
After everyone had the opportunity to look at and evaluate the parchment, and the library and store locations were divided among the D’Danann, Tiernan left the store. He stood in the store’s back parking spot and lifted his face to the sky.
At the same time he unfolded his great brown wings from his back, he shielded himself. With a simple flap of his wings, he took to the sky in search of the damnable warlocks and the Fomorii.
Chapter 3
Otherworld
Present Day
It could have been days, months, years. All Copper Ashcroft knew was that she had to find her way out, her way back home. And something was telling her that it needed to be soon.
“What is wrong, witch?” Riona, the Faerie queen who was trapped with Copper, flitted from around the bushes that hid the Faerie mound in their Otherworld prison. “Are you homesick for this San Francisco you are always talking about?”
“Yeah. What’s new?” Copper shrugged and shifted on the smooth rock beneath the apple tree. She’d never had a melancholy personality, but a girl could only be trapped so long without getting a little tired of it. “Goddess how I miss everything. I miss working in the shop with Silver. I miss my classes at U. C. Berkeley, too.” She’d been working on her Masters in Education, and also had a minor in Celtic Studies and Physical Education.
“I miss the city so much,” she told Riona. “The smell of the ocean, the sound of a foghorn, the clang of trolleys.” Rock music. Dating. Restaurants. Department stores. Shopping! And sex. Definitely sex. She’d never been one to seriously date anyone. She had too much fun going out with different guys and enjoying the company of her friends. But she sure liked sex.
Riona landed on Copper’s shoulder. Her perfect, naked, six-inch body was the color of cream. Her hair was long and midnight black, her eyes amethyst and her wings a pale purple. Every time she opened and closed her wings, Faerie dust glittered in the evening air and Copper caught the familiar scent of roses.
“Mostly I miss Mother, Father, and my older sister, Silver.” Copper glanced at the Faerie queen. “I’m glad to have all of you for company, but I have to say I really miss my friends and the D’Anu Coven of witches I belonged to—I even miss that old crotchety high priestess, Janis Arrowsmith.”
What she wouldn’t give to have Janis glaring at her right now. She swore Janis was always glaring. Of course during the time Copper had been missing, a new Adept would have filled Copper’s place as one of the thirteen female and male witches that comprised the D’Anu Coven, all descendents of the Ancient Druids.
Riona crossed her dainty little legs at her knees and started swinging her foot. “It is your fault, witch, that we are all imprisoned.”
“I just don’t understand what happened,” Copper said aloud for the millionth time. And for the millionth time she acknowledged that she knew exactly how she came to be here. Her magic had rebounded off of something—some kind of shield—and she’d sent herself into this Otherworld place. “I must really suck as a witch since I can’t get us out of this mess.”
“You are a very powerful witch,” Riona said softly, her voice like tiny bells in a gentle breeze.
Copper blinked. Riona complimenting her?
“I shouldn’t have tried that spell on the warlock,” Copper said, deciding to go on. “But I was so sure he would be responsible for something terrible that was going to happen, and so sure the spell would work.” Thoughts of her sister, family, and friends being in danger and possibly being hurt or worse made Copper’s chest burn. What if something had happened and she wasn’t there to help?
Not only did she send herself to Otherworld, but she’d somehow created a magical shield around herself, a meadow with a rock wall on one side, a mini waterfall and stream, a pine tree, and the apple tree—everything contained within the shield.
All of the creatures and beings trapped within this house-sized prison were apparently invisible to any being outside the shield that happened to be nearby. And none of the beings confined with her were happy about being held hostage by Copper’s magic.
Riona patted Copper’s shoulder, her touch as soft as flower petals drifting upon her skin. “Believe it or not, I have confidence that one day you will free us all.”
Copper’s eyes widened in astonishment as the Faerie queen flitted away to return to their tiny Sidhe, which was a mound, some bushes, and garden of assorted flowers, not further than a stone’s throw away. Riona had never expressed any faith in Copper. What was this little world coming to?
She looked up to the sky. It was an overcast evening with swirling dark clouds gathering overhead. Interestingly enough, they still had changes in weather, which meant that the walls couldn’t be limitless and there was no ceiling. Yet none of the Fae had been able to fly high enough to get out.
The moon went through its usual phases, too, but no matter how she, tried her moon rituals wouldn’t work and she received no visions from the ritual. She wasn’t a seer of course, but in the past the goddess had sometimes been helpful during moon rituals.
Copper decided she might as well do something active instead of moping on the rock. She stood and grabbed one of the higher branches of the apple tree, gripped its rough thickness and started doing pull-ups. She’d kept in shape while in captivity by doing pull-ups, sit-ups, arm curls with rocks and managed other toning exercises, as well as jogging around the circumference of their prison just to keep in shape. She even practiced her softball pitching for amusement by throwing rocks at the shield, and sharpened her reflexes by dodging them as they rebounded back at her.
While she performed her pull-ups, her mind returned to the dream she’d had last night. It had been so freaking intense.
She’d been crawling along a recently made tunnel, the smell of fresh earth confirming it was newly dug. The walls had glittered with veins of ore and an occasional gem. She had squinted. Dark shapes loomed in and out of her vision.
In her dream a sudden chill had pricked her skin with goose bumps and she’d felt an icy wash of fear.
In the next moment she had dropped. She plunged through the blackness, screaming . . .
She thought for a moment she saw a dark being as she fell with fire for hair, but it was only a flash before she woke. Her breathing had been heavy as if she’d been running the circumference of the prison.
She’d woken with her heart pounding in her ears, feeling as if something horrible was going to happen. Even the thought of the dream made her stomach clench.
“Get a grip,” she mumbled as she finished the last pull-up, then got down to the grassy ground and began doing guy push-ups. She used her upper body and the strength of her arms to do the push-ups as her toes dug into the grass, balancing her.
Her copper-colored braid fell over her shoulder as she did her workout. Of course her hair color was the reason her mother had named her Copper. Moondust had named Copper’s sister Silver, after the shade of blond hair she’d been born with. Both were unique names that had caused a lot of teasing as the girls grew up. Neither one of them had minded—much. From a young age they had been encouraged by their mother to enjoy their differences, and that included being witches.
Copper finished her push-ups, feeling a little sweat break out on her skin. She picked up a good-sized rock, bent over, and braced her other hand on the rock beneath the tree and started working out her triceps.
She continued to mull over the dream as she watched a pair of Faeries gathering nectar from a bright purple bloom in the waning light. Riona perched on a white flower nearby. Her arms and legs were crossed, her foot swinging as usual, her wings slowly opening and closing, while she watched the male Faeries putting the nectar into delicate bags made of leaves. All the Faeries were tiny with perfect naked little bodies and translucent wings that released sparkling dust of different colors, depending on the Faerie.
Several Faerie children played hide-and-seek among the flowers and the trees along with Zephyr, Copper’s bee familiar. The Faerie children’s sweet chatter sounded just like water trickling over the rocks at the spring on the other side of the meadow.
“Dammit. I trapped them here.” Not for the first time she wondered why the Ancestors and the goddess allowed her to do such a thing. She switched arms to work out her other triceps. “If it wasn’t for me they’d be free to leave this goddess-forsaken place.”
Her once shoulder-length hair had grown past her shoulders. As she usually did, she’d fastened it into a thick braid and tied it off with a tie the Faeries had made from a vine. When she finished working out her upper body, the braid swung over her shoulder again as she started jogging around the confined space. She knew when she had reached a wall because it shimmered before her, taunting her. If she touched it, she would receive a shock that frizzed her hair. She wondered if it would become permanently bushy if she kept experimenting every now and again to see if the barrier would finally let her through.
She scowled at it as her bare feet pounded soft grass. “Freaking wall.”
While jogging, her frown deepened as she thought of other dreams she’d had since she’d been in Otherworld. Her dreams often came true and were actually visions. Her stomach churned as she relived dreams of horrible misshapen demons, of her sister and Coven under attack. And dreams of that damned warlock who was the reason she was here to begin with. The dreams always left her feeling cold and afraid. Not for herself, but for her sister, family, and the other witches in the D’Anu Coven.
I have to get out of here! I have to get to my family!
The feeling of needing to get back to San Francisco and her family grew more intense every single day, and she had a difficult time keeping herself from performing her rituals frantically. She needed to be calm and controlled, but it was getting harder every day that passed.
Most of her thoughts rested on Silver. She knew that if Silver had to use her gray magic it would be hard on her, it would take its toll. Copper so firmly believed in using gray magic that she wasn’t afraid of it. But Silver . . . she believed in it, but she wasn’t as strong as Copper.
Her dress rustled w as she jogged around the meadow. Even though they weren’t pleased with her, the Faeries had fashioned a dress made of soft leaves and vines that never withered, never dried, and felt delicate and sensual against her skin. With every movement she made, it caressed her breasts, her belly, her buttocks.
For possibly as many days as she’d been stuck here, she wished a man had been trapped with her—er, not the warlock—but someone sexy, a guy who would really turn her on. With the proverbial apple tree, they’d be a regular Adam and Eve in this paradise—
Not.
What she wouldn’t give for her jeans, T-shirt and running shoes. She never was one for dresses, even though her preference had driven her father crazy. He thought witches should wear flowing dresses like her mother did. Silver really drove their father nuts because she wore such short and sexy skirts along with three-inch heels.
Of course their father loved them no matter what. Even though he was gruff on the exterior, and had a hard time showing his emotions, Copper knew just how much he cared. Moondust had always shown her love easily. Copper’s mother was gentle and kind—the type of person who could make you feel good with only a look, and the only person to calm their father when he was on a rant.
Copper rolled her eyes to the increasingly darkening sky then shook her head. “There’s got to be a spell that can get me and every other living being out of here.”
She’d tried everything she could think of. Even the Faeries had attempted to help her with their magic. The Pixies, Brownies, an Undine, and Drow—they were no help at all. The Pixies preferred to tease and taunt, often stealing leaves from her vine dress when she wasn’t looking. The Brownies bit her ankles when she wasn’t careful where she stepped. The Undine preferred to keep to herself.
The Drow—blue-ish skinned Dark Elves—kept trying to lure her below ground but she had no inclination to do so. The Drow king, Garran, had visited her one dark night—the Drow could only come out when it was night. He’d made it clear he wanted her.
Even if he was tall and sexy—no thanks. She wasn’t about to take the chance that Drow magic would trick her into staying below ground and cause her to want to live with the Dark Elves.
He’d smiled and winked. “One day you will come to me.”
Copper turned her thoughts away from the cocky bastard and back to her current predicament. A small spring tinkled down a rock wall several paces from the apple tree. Even though she’d been trapped, she’d been blessed with just about every convenience—if you could call them conveniences—that she needed. Often Copper wondered why that was so. It was as if the goddess or the Ancestors had planned this, and that there was some meaning to it.
What could that possibly be? She needed to be home, needed to be beside her family and friends.
The copper pentagrams at her ears swung freely as she made another jog around the meadow. When she finished her workout, her skin was warm and a light coating of sweat covered her body. She was going to have to come up with some new exercises to get a better workout.
She knelt at the spring and washed her hands in the lower basin. When she finished, she scooped sweet water from the upper basin into her mouth with her hands. As always it was icy cold and the best water she’d ever tasted. But she’d give anything to be back in San Francisco and drinking city water, even with all its minerals and chemicals.
She sighed and picked at one of the vines on her dress. She wanted, needed to break through the shield and get the hell out of here. At this point she’d prefer being in any other place in Otherworld rather than being confined to this one tiny space. Of course free, that was, not trapped. At least then she might be able to convince some being to help her get home. She’d always read that the Elves had doorways that led to Otherworlds.
Too bad the Dark Elves below ground didn’t have any such doors available. Garran had said all their doors had been blocked, so they had no means of escape, either. They continued to dig downward, supposedly to find someway to get out.
Copper got to her feet and walked to what wasn’t much of a shelter in the rock, but where she curled up to sleep at night on a thick blanket of dried grass, vine and leaves. It was much longer than her, lengthwise, and its width was more than enough to keep her out of the weather. She could also sit up with room to spare. The leaf and vine dress kept her warm and comfortable, and she was sure that it helped make the bed softer, too.
She retrieved her wand that had thankfully crossed over with her, and gripped it tight. The wand warmed in her hand as she stepped through the short grass that tickled the soles of her bare feet. Rabbits and strange creatures that looked like a cross between a ferret and a toad kept the grass shorn so that it always looked freshly mowed. The ferret-toads made a “gruuupp, gruuuupp,” sound when they were mating. It was particularly annoying.
No fair that everyone and everything else was getting laid and she wasn’t.
Carrying her wand, Copper went to the center of the meadow, on the other side of the apple tree. Zeph zipped over to her, perched on the curve of her ear and she felt the strength of his support, although she didn’t get the impression he was too confident that she was going to get them out this time.
“Have faith, little guy.” She raised her wand and the pentagram dangled wildly from her bracelet. “The goddess must have a plan for us, and it can’t be to stay in this place forever.”
Zeph buzzed and it sounded like a sigh. Copper ignored him and called out a simple circle-casting spell. After it was cast, she tried a new spell in hopes of freeing everyone in their prison.
In this place on this sacred ground,
Within this circle good shall be bound.
With the light of my wand this place surround,
May what is lost now be found.
The end of her wand glowed through the evening, a brilliant gold that glittered off the walls of their prison. The light from her wand seemed stronger than before and she felt tremors through her hand. She focused on the wand, and poured her gray magic into it. Silver wouldn’t have agreed to use it so freely.
No, it’s too dangerous, Silver would say. You should only use it in dire circumstances.
Whatever.
Copper gathered her focus and her gray witchcraft and concentrated on the spell she’d just spoken aloud.
Nothing.
She chanted it again, louder this time, pouring more gray magic into the spell.
The light from her wand dimmed and began to retreat, as if withdrawing back into the crystal.
Copper held her breath for at least ten seconds and then she heard what sounded like a collective sigh around the meadow.
Disappointment rushed over her, but then a feeling of hope, too. That was the most her wand had ever glowed during one of her chants since coming here. Maybe she was getting closer. Getting stronger?
Since she’d been trapped here, she’d tried tapping into every bit of witchcraft she had, including her deepest gray magic.
After yet another failure, she placed her wand in the shelter. Copper stripped out of her dress and stood by the small pool of water created by the stream. There was an upper basin that she used to drink from, and a lower basin that she used to cleanse herself.
With shampoo, soap, and a soft grass sponge the Faeries had given her, Copper first undid her braid and washed her hair then soaped her body. When she rinsed in the icy cold water she shivered and wished for a nice thick towel. Once a week she used a cream that the Faeries had supplied that allowed her to remove hair from her underarms and her legs. She’d never been much for hairy legs, or armpits for that matter.
After she ate a filling seedcake the Faeries had left her for dinner, Copper brushed her teeth with Faerie toothpaste that tasted like berries and a twig and grass toothbrush. Refreshed, she slid into her shelter and relaxed on the now overly familiar cushion of the dried vines, leaves, and grass.
Instead of falling asleep right away, she stared up at the rock ceiling of her shelter and listened to the chirrup of crickets and other night sounds. She couldn’t really see the ceiling because it was now dark outside. An ache rose deep inside her. She missed her family, and both human and witch companionship.
And she really, really needed to get laid.
Right now any man would do. Well, not any man and not just any being. She could have had one of the sexy Drow, especially the king, but she didn’t want to go there. Drow magic could enchant a woman or other beings, making that being want to stay with the Dark Elves forevermore—all witches studied about Fae, Elves, and other beings so she knew about Drow magic. Copper was a witch, so she might be immune, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
But she could certainly pick a dream man.
She’d always had a thing for blonds. She could imagine a man with her, his naked body between her thighs, his chest pressed to hers.
At the thought, she pushed up her vine and leaf dress just enough to bare her pussy. She cupped her mound then slipped her fingers into her wet folds.
Copper gave a soft sigh as she closed her eyes and the man’s image came clearly to her. She’d be naked, too, and the man would suckle her nipples, biting them as hard as she liked it. He’d caress, her, touch her in all of her intimate places, tease her into a frenzy. Then he’d place the head of his cock at her entrance and plunge deep inside of her.
As she imagined her mystery man fucking her, she widened her thighs, plunged two fingers into her channel and gave a little moan. She pinched one of her nipples through the dress while she slipped her fingers out and began to circle her clit.
Yeah, that was it. He’d take her so hard she’d cry out with every thrust.
Her fingers circled her clit faster and faster as she continued to imagine the man. Oh, yes. He’d drive in so deep she’d feel him all the way to her belly.
Sensations built up within Copper and her thighs began to tremble. She was so close. So close. And he was fucking her and calling out her name. Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster.
Copper’s orgasm swarmed throughout her body like tiny fireflies that sparked in the night. She moaned soft and low while her core continued to contract, adding to the intense sensations.
After her orgasm finally melted away, Copper smiled, tugged down her dress, and rolled onto her side. She rested her head on one arm, using it for a pillow then drifted away into a satisfied sleep.
