Home > Spellbinder (Moonshadow #2)(10)

Spellbinder (Moonshadow #2)(10)
Author: Thea Harrison

She tried talking to them a couple of times, but while they glanced at each other and shuffled uneasily, her attempts at starting a conversation were met with silence. A few of the girls stared unabashedly at her, their expressions filled with such fascinated repugnance, she was taken aback.

As Sidonie glanced around, it dawned on her—she was virtually the only person present who had dark hair and eyes. Also, her skin was pale and creamy, quite unlike the hue of the tanned faces that surrounded her. She might even be the first person these youngsters had ever seen who looked the way she did. Perhaps she was the first human they’d ever seen.

Compressing her lips, she settled into her hard, uncomfortable corner of the wagon and kept to herself after that. The passing scenery might be pretty, but so far, her first impressions of Avalon sucked.

That night they camped by a wide, lazy-looking river, and despite her problems, it was wonderful to get a few minutes by herself at the water’s edge to wash. Supper was the same fare as lunch and breakfast. She found a spot close to the warmth of a campfire for the night. Gathering up a handful of pebbles, she curled into a tight ball to keep warm as she counted them, while wild scenarios galloped through her head.

She could steal a horse (she had lived in New York for most of her life and had no idea how to ride a horse). And she could steal weapons (from seasoned fighters who had the weapons and knew how to use them). Then she could race back to the crossover passageway (which she couldn’t sense or use on her own).

Then, somehow, she needed to capture and force one of the soldiers there to walk her across to Earth, slip past the troops stationed on the other side, and walk until she made contact with normal civilization.

She had self-defense skills and some knowledge of unarmed combat, but those were all skills she had learned in a training environment. She had never had occasion to use what she had learned in an actual fight.

The likelihood of getting out of the wagon train encampment alive was slim to none, let alone facing the towering list of unlikely events after that. No, her only real hope of getting home again was if she appealed to someone in command.

In the morning, when she tried to approach the commander of the wagon train, a soldier stepped in front of her and forced her to go back to the area where her other travel companions stayed.

Simmering with frustration, she complied. No matter what the time slippage was between Avalon and Earth, her concert tour was almost certainly ruined now. Julie had to be worried sick, and both she and Rikki would have an administrative nightmare on their hands. Just the thought of it tied Sid’s stomach in knots. She’d never had to cancel a tour before.

But despite the amount of time she was going to lose on this journey, it appeared she would have to wait until she reached the castle before she could talk to someone who had the power to release her.

After sorting through her pebbles, she discarded the ones she didn’t like and slipped twenty-one small, smooth stones into her pocket. The second day of travel was hot and boring. Focusing on her pebbles, she counted and recounted them, and lined them up in rows on one palm, according to size.

Then according to shape. Then color.

Twenty-one. Twenty-one. Twenty-one.

Toward the end of the day, the wagon train climbed a long, winding incline in the deepening gold of evening light. Sid had made a few more attempts to talk to her young companions without any luck. Resting her head on drawn-up knees, she kept her mouth and nose covered to avoid breathing in the dust kicked up by the horses and wagons ahead of them.

Even as she thought for the dozenth time that surely they had to be stopping soon, a shout sounded ahead, and the wagon lumbered to a halt. Excitedly, the others in the wagon jumped to their feet. As they craned their necks, stood on tiptoe, and exclaimed, Sid stood too, more slowly. Shading her eyes, she looked in the direction everyone else was staring.

The ground fell away from the road in a massive rolling sweep. In the distance, across a rich emerald green land, a huge castle sprawled like a great tawny dragon. Wealth, age, and power were stamped into the stones.

A city crouched supplicant at its feet, and beyond both stretched a sparkling blue body of water.

Unwillingly impressed and intimidated at once, Sid wrapped her arms around her middle. It looked like they were nearing the end of their journey, and she should be talking to someone in power soon enough.

Chapter Four

The long silver knife slid home in Morgan’s side, slicing through the still healing flesh of the original wound. A spear of pain lanced him. Sucking in a harsh breath, he hunched over as he slammed the other man’s hand aside to grab the hilt and yank the blade out. It came free with a gush of fresh, red blood.

The pain made it difficult for him to control his lycanthrope instincts, and the silver from the weapon had not yet hit his system enough to dampen his abilities. He felt his teeth elongate and his face change.

He snarled, “Back off!”

The ghoul who had stabbed him leaped back as if scalded, and his gray face twisted. In an injured Cockney accent, he accused, “’Ey now, that ain’t very friendly-like, and after I done you a favor too.”

“You didn’t do me any favors,” Morgan snapped. “I paid you quite handsomely to stick a knife in me.”

He could feel the silver’s poison beginning to burn through his veins, and his features eased back to normal. He’d kept his Beretta close, in case the ghoul decided to betray him, but the creature looked spooked and ready to bolt out of the alley.

“You is one crazy motherfucker,” the ghoul declared. “You didn’t say nuthin ’bout bein’ no lycanthrope! What if you ’ad taken off me hand for sticking you like we ’ad agreed?”

“I didn’t, did I?” He pressed hard to staunch the bleeding. Elation threaded through the pain. The geas hadn’t kicked in to force him to protect himself. He had just gained weeks more of freedom. “Let me know if you want to make the same amount next month too.”

Greed warred with caution on the ghoul’s long, mournful features, and for a moment he looked remarkably like Giles had when Morgan had last seen the doctor.

“I dunno,” the ghoul muttered. “What if next time you doesn’t manage to control that beast of yourn?”

“Up to you,” Morgan said, losing interest in the creature. Having bought himself more time, he could always find someone else to hire for the deed.

“’Ey now, I didn’t say I wouldn’t.” Calculation glittered in the ghoul’s eyes. “But I’m thinkin’ there may be a price hike for me services. I could use a little danger money as a bit o’ insurance.”

Morgan coughed out an unamused laugh and didn’t bother to reply. He had already paid the ghoul more than enough. Limping out of the alley, he took a careful look around. It was the early hours of the morning, and the London street was deserted.

Walking carefully to his parked Audi, he eased behind the wheel and drove to the rooms he had rented. The small furnished flat was quiet and private, tucked at the end of a mews in a comfortable neighborhood.

When he had initially walked the streets of the neighborhood, he had found no hint of any major Power nearby, and the scents he picked up were mostly human. The location was perfect for his purposes, unremarkable in every way.

As his magical abilities had gradually returned, he had cast subtle cloaking spells around the area that would repel all but the most intelligent and determined eyes from noticing the red front door that led to the flat.

Then he began to gather any texts that were reputed to make mention of Azrael’s Athame, even if only in passing. Late one night, he drove to Oxford to slip into the Bodleian Library. One of the oldest libraries in Europe, the Bodleian had an extensive wing devoted to the history, politics, folklore, religions, and magic systems of the Elder Races.

The library was guarded by gargoyles and shrouded in magical protections, but none of the protections were a match for Morgan’s skills. He took everything related to Azrael, Lord Death, along with the books that focused on the most ancient magic items.

Between long hours of research, he built an arsenal for himself—casting spells of blindness, creating shields strong enough to hold against a dragon’s fire, death curses, flesh corrosion, deadly fireballs called morningstars, charms of confusion, and incantations of havoc that could make armies lose control and fight each other.

   
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