Dani Harper - Storm Bound

“Now, now, it’s no fun for me if you move,” chided the faery. “You were never very good at games, Aidan. In fact, come to think of it, you weren’t very much fun at all. You could take a lesson from my darling George Santiago-Callahan. Isn’t that a grand name for an ordinary mortal? It rolls off the tongue just like honey.” Still retaining her grip on him, she looked at George and stroked his face with her free hand as if bestowing a loving caress. He didn’t resist in the least. “You and I have had a lovely time together, now, haven’t we?” He was barely able to nod. Apparently satisfied, she returned her attention to the little group, and Morgan’s dog began to bark at her.

Immediately, Brooke thought of the Moon, one of the tarot cards that she and Aidan had both drawn. The dogs on the card barked at the moon as if it were something evil to be kept at bay. The card had frightened Olivia, and Brooke felt fear now as she saw Olivia’s words embodied in the faery princess. Powerful magic is involved here, dangerous magic, deception, and hidden enemies.

All of them had their weapons out now, Brooke noticed, except for her. She had no dagger or sword, not even so much as an iron nail to throw. All she had was her magic—and what spell could she use that would be effective in such a situation? Her focus had always been on defense, and she hoped the medicine bags that she and Aidan were wearing were of some help, although they seemed pitiful indeed against such a magnificent being who was clearly not from the mortal plane. “Reach inside yourself for courage,” Olivia had said.

Courage Brooke had, but nothing else that she could see. Despite all her studies, her practices, her strict observation of the Code, and her respect shown to the deities who ruled the elements, Brooke Halloran felt completely helpless. She might be a powerful witch on her own turf, but here she was clearly out of her league. She had no idea how to protect George.

Or anyone else.

You left before the game was over, Aidan,” chided Celynnen. “You left before I was finished with you. That was rude. So now I’m making up a brand new game.”

George was a full-grown man who had won many bouts in the mixed martial arts ring, yet the tall faery lifted him by the back of the neck until his toes barely touched the ground and shook him like a rat being shaken by a terrier. And as if her sudden show of sheer strength wasn’t scary enough, her angelic face changed dramatically. Its cold and feral ferocity belonged more to a master predator than a goddess of unearthly beauty.

But she’s not a goddess at all , thought Brooke. She’s a creature masquerading as one. And she’s going to hurt George. To hold the Gift is to guard the helpless and to remove power from the cruel. Brooke knew she had to do something. The Ten of Pentacles had been in that tarot reading as well: a great risk was necessary, and it was up to her.

When all else fails, return to the basics. Intent was the key to magic, plus anything that could help her focus that intention. So what was her intention? What she really wanted to do was give Celynnen a helluva black eye, but that seemed a little vague. Somehow she had to create enough of a diversion for George to get away—the fact that the powerful faery was quite likely to kill her for her interference notwithstanding. There was no getting around the fact that once in a very rare while, so rarely that it was almost never mentioned, the Death card actually meant what it said.

A black eye… In one of his first bouts, when his career had barely begun, G had come out of the ring unconscious with a pair of shiners. He’d laughed about it later, of course, even though the purple swelling around his eyes seemed to take forever to go away. That guy’s punch was like being kicked by a mule. Out of the periphery of her vision, Brooke studied the big white horse that towered over Rhys and Morgan, and she imagined several of the enormous beasts kicking Celynnen full in the face—and instantly, Brooke knew what her intent was going to be.

“George and I are going to have that delightful weekend getaway in Seattle, just as he planned for us,” continued Celynnen, beaming her perfect smile and obviously enjoying herself. “Then I’m going to treat him to a little trip to the faery realm. He won’t be coming back, of course. Unless…” She looked squarely at Aidan.

“Seven days, Aidan ap Llanfor. You have one mortal week to surrender yourself to me as a willing lover , or George will wear your collar in your place as a grim. That is, after I finish playing with him.” Hanging limply in Celynnen’s grip like a puppet, G was helpless to resist. His friends were helpless too, unless…Tears stung Brooke’s eyes as she fought to plan a way to beat back the monster that held her dearest friend.

Without warning, Celynnen flung George forward onto the ground as if he’d been nothing more than a crumpled tissue. He lay unmoving, clutching the silver chain mail with both hands as if the torc had tightened around his throat. His eyes had rolled back in his head so only the whites could be seen. “Of course you know what a grim looks like, don’t you, dear Aidan? But for the benefit of your new friends, here’s a little preview.”

George began to writhe on the ground, gasping and choking as his eyes bulged. His fighter’s muscles contorted horribly, and bones began to shift beneath his tanned skin. Brooke was grateful that Aidan had placed his tall, powerful body in front of her. Not only did it shield her from Celynnen’s direct view; it prevented Brooke from seeing more of what was happening to G—and right now, she needed every bit of her concentration to be of any help to him. Quickly, Brooke slipped out of her sandals and stood on the ground in bare feet. Reciting a spell in her mind, she summoned every ounce of magic she could muster from within herself, even as she knew it was far from enough. The farm itself should have been a veritable hotspot, a deep reservoir of the earth’s power, but the power was largely blocked from countless wardings against faery magics. Nevertheless, she drew what she could through the ground and into her body through the soles of her feet. She held her hands over her ears to block George’s moans as he made his slow and painful transformation. Tears fell free as she half closed her eyes, acting as if she couldn’t bear the sight—which wasn’t far from the truth.

In reality, however, Brooke was looking everywhere , making note of every iron horseshoe within her field of view. There were dozens upon dozens of them, all of a size fit for mighty warhorses like Cygnus. But she still needed more power, dammit, or her plan would never work. Where could she possibly find more?

As if he’d heard her, Aidan brandished his sword in front of him to keep the faery’s attention even as he slid his free arm behind his back, his hand reaching for hers. “Take it,” he breathed. “Take whatever magic I have, even if it means my life. Understand, cariad ? She must be stopped .”

What he had was considerable. Brooke grasped his big strong hand, and fought to stand still as a torrent of magic simply flowed into her from Aidan’s fingers. It blended seamlessly with her own and that of the earth, and suddenly her vision came back to her full force. Not the rain-soaked sexual heat, but something else, the underlying revelation she had missed. Sex had united them, certainly, but it was merely the physical expression of something much bigger. It was the magic that truly merged them, as they were merging now. Synergy flowed freely, blending body and soul into something greater and grander and more potent than she could have imagined. Brooke drew the power as if it were the string of a bow, drew it back to its farthest point…