"Look, Mari, you have to come out of this and do something," Carrow said. "Put him out of his misery--or--allow me to make him fall in love with dryer lint. You decide." She shrugged. "I know you'd worried about Bowen not wanting to come near the coven--but we can't get him to leave. Apparently, some of the witches admitted to him that you're on a different plane--he can be really dogged with the questions--and now he's determined to reach you here. Interestingly, he believes the information about the plane's existence--but not about the fact that he can't travel to it."
"He returns to Andoain daily, sometimes hourly, researching witchery," Elianna said.
Carrow glared. "Well, maybe if you and the others would stop sneakily setting out food for him, he wouldn't keep coming back!"
Crossing her arms over her chest, Elianna said in a mulish tone, "He wouldn't eat otherwise."
"Whatever. But seriously, Mari, he's having such a hard time with all this that even Regin feels sorry for what he's been through."
Elianna added, "He's watched your graduation video so many times, I'm sure he's memorized your school's alma mater."
"I don't know what he does with the videos of your college cheerleading he brings back to his place"--Carrow waggled her eyebrows--"but I have suspicions."
Elianna coughed delicately.
"Now that you've done what you were Awaited to do--well, part one at least--everyone's grasping about for a new name for you," Carrow said. "If you don't kick this enthrallment, then I'm going to campaign for Mariketa the Glass Witch, or 'Glitch.' Come kick my ass if you don't like it, otherwise . . ."
Elianna squinted at Mari and sighed. "I think she wants to be called Mariketa MacRieve."
Mari did. She wanted to go to Bowen and tell him she loved him, she wanted to visit with her family and friends, she wanted to . . . blink. But the knowledge flowed through her veins; the power demanded.
It seemed that she would be forced to stay here until she knew . . . everything.
Which meant she'd never leave.
Because everything is the very thing I cannot know.
*
When Bowe tracked down Nix at last, she was perched like a gargoyle on the roof of a building on Bourbon Street. He climbed up to her, feeling only a lingering ache in his healing leg. "Nix, you have to help me."
"What's put you all in a dither, werewolf?"
"You were right about everything, about the Hie, about me finding my mate. All your predictions came true--though you might have bloody told me exactly who had put a hex on me."
She finally faced him. "I said you'd been ensorcelled, not enchanted, and everyone knew Mariketa wasn't yet a sorceress." She rolled her eyes. "Really, pet--duh?"
Keep a rein on it.
She added, "Though I am truly sorry that you had eighteen decades of unadulterated misery."
Bowe compared the princess's actions to those of the witch who'd hurt his father. The only difference was degrees of pain. But he had little time to think of what she'd done to him--to all of them. "I need to find Mariketa." Gods, did he need to find her. The longing for his witch was a thousandfold more powerful than what the strongest sorceress on earth could engender in him.
"Have we lost her again? Bowen, you must keep up with your captromancer better than this!"
"Nix!"
"Oh, I know already, of course. She's gone off to a witch's plane, in a different dimension. Before you ask, I'll tell you that they're held sacred, and I can't give you directions to it. There are some laws even the proto-Valkyrie won't break."
"After all this, you will no' tell me how to reach that place?"
She tilted her head at him. "You, Bowen MacRieve, want to go to a world where only witches and their kindred live? Where magick is in everything from a raindrop to a bird's feather?"
"Nix, I want to do whatever it bloody takes--"
"I wish I could help you. I do." She quirked a brow. "Especially since you're keeping yourself up a bit better." She clawed the air in his direction, and he scowled. "And actually, there is a simple way for you to reach her. The means is so obvious it hurts me--hurts me, I tell you."
"Damn it, what is it, Valkyrie?"
"You have as much right as anyone to be on a witch's plane."
"But I'm no' connected by blood to the Wiccae. And I'm no' Mari's husband--yet."
"Figure out why you've the right to be there, and I'll help you with the logistics."
Her gaze locked on something below them. Her small form tensed like a predator's. She appeared to be stalking Regin. Or at least someone stalking Regin. "Must go." She finally met his eyes. "Do not come to me again without an answer. . . ." Then, like a blur, she leapt to the ground, disappearing into the crowd.
54
The next night, Bowe had been asleep for only an hour--after dropping exhausted onto his mattress on the floor at his new place--when he sat up in bed, his heart thundering. The answer was on his tongue.
Once he'd hated to the gods what he was. Now he realized it was the answer to reaching her.
Bowe dragged on jeans . . . couldn't find his shoes so he went without . . . was still throwing on a shirt as he charged out into the night to find Nix.
Luckily she was at Val Hall--and lucid, he saw, when she met him outside the Valkyrie's home.
"Nix, I figured out how I can join her," he told her at once. "You said witches and their kindred can reach that other place. From what I've been reading, that means familiars as well."
"Um, Bowen," she began slowly, "familiars are . . . animals."
He raised his eyebrows in an "and your point is" expression. "I read that familiars can be protectors--I am Mari's protector. One witch had a tiger--another even had a bear. Why no' a Lykae?"
Nix beamed proudly. "I'm impressed!"
"So how the hell do I get to her?"
"Go to her room at Andoain."
"I was just there this . . ." He trailed off, having learned not to question these things endlessly--or, in some instances, at all. "Verra well."
At Andoain, he bounded up the stairs to Mari's bedroom three at time, ignoring the growing pain in his leg. From the corner of his eye, he spied witches blinking at him from behind their doors. He dimly noted that candles were lit throughout--they seemed to be expecting him.
He swung open Mari's door. And was suddenly in another house, with buckets of snow falling outside. He glanced around, battling his sense of disquiet. Was any of this real? Was he dreaming?
Easing farther inside, he found a woman within who resembled Mariketa. Beside her stood a man who crossed thick arms over his chest, raising his brows at Bowe.
At that moment, Bowe realized that he was meeting Mari's parents--and that, in addition to his bare feet and unshaven, rough appearance, his shirt was on backward. And inside out.
"This is the male she's been seeing?" the man muttered. "He can't even dress himself."
Bowe just stifled the urge to point out that though he might not be able to dress himself, he sure as hell could perceive when a bairn was on his shoulders. Instead he bit his tongue. This warlock, though arrogant, was Bowe's future father-in-law.
"A werewolf, Jill? Really."
"Hush." The woman slapped the back of her hand against his stomach, then said, "I'm Jillian. And this is my husband, Warren. We are Mari's parents. And we know you're Bowen MacRieve of the Lykae clan."
He gave her a nod.
To Bowe, Warren demanded, "Aren't you a bit old for my daughter?"
When Bowe scowled, Jillian blithely continued, "We've been waiting for you. Mari's been waiting. She needs your help."
"Where is she?"
"Follow me." Jillian showed him to a room that looked like a cross between the bedroom in Belize and Mari's at Andoain.
His breath left him. Mari stood in front of a full-length mirror, utterly still, dark eyes unblinking. His voice broke low when he asked, "What's happened tae her?"
Jillian answered, "Once she received Haxa's powers, she basicall
y enchanted herself. And no one's strong enough to combat her magick."
"None can fix what they can hardly touch," Warren said.
Jillian added, "But we think you might be able to talk her from this. Nix told us this morning that you intend to be her protector--"
"He's a beast familiar," Warren scoffed.
"Which makes him a werewolf protector. And that's why he's been allowed here."
"Can she hear me?" Bowe asked, disregarding the fact that he hadn't spoken to Nix until minutes ago.
"Mari's aware of everything we're saying," she answered.
"How do I free her?"
"You persuade her to somehow find the power to pull away. Talk to her, make her fight," Jillian said. "Reflections are Mari's strengths, but they're also her weaknesses. She can be hurt by them if she draws too much on them--once you succeed in freeing her, then you have to make sure she doesn't lose herself in the mirror like this ever again."
No wonder he'd had such a strong reaction to her chanting to the glass.
Warren added, "Tonight, if you succeed, we're going to bind Haxa's power within her. For a few decades, Mari will need to use the mirror for knowledge sparingly--only in the direst emergencies. She can travel through mirrors and use them to focus spells, but the knowledge is what Haxa's power will always crave--and bindings are not infallible."
"Can we trust you to see to this?" Jillian asked.
Bowe gave a sharp nod. "Aye, I can see to it."
"Don't try to put anything in front of her eyes," Warren said. "She'll burn away whatever blocks her gaze. And whatever you do, do not break the mirror."
Without looking away from Mari, Bowe asked, "Why no'?" This seemed an ideal solution to him.
Jillian murmured, "The shock could . . . it could kill her."
No' ideal.
"I want to be alone with her," Bowe said.
She nodded. "We're going to the binding ceremony. Good luck, Bowen."
After they closed the door, Bowe could still hear Mari's father say, "Jill, why are you so confident in MacRieve?"
"Because he won't ever rest until he has her back with him," she replied before they descended the stairs.
Alone with Mari, Bowe said, "Lass, we're about to take a break from the mirror for a bit. How am I to marry you in front of all those witches in an eerie, embarrassing ceremony if you will no' look away?"
No reaction.
He put his arms around her waist and leaned down to kiss her neck, closing his eyes with pleasure just to be close to her once more.
"Doona wish to turn from your glass? Verra well. Then ask it some questions while you're here. Ask it how much your Lykae's missed you."
Had she blinked?
At her other ear, he murmured, "Ask it who Bowe loves."
Her lips parted. Her body seemed to begin thrumming, as if she was struggling with everything she had in her to be free.
"Aye, that's right. Ask it who's the only one Bowe's ever been in love with." He brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek, willing her to meet his gaze in the mirror. "And the last question we're goin' tae have before you come away with me . . . ask it how damned good our lives are goin' tae be together, just as soon as you turn tae kiss me."
Her brows drew together, and her stiff posture tightened, then relaxed. Her eyelids slid closed.
"There now, that's it, beautiful girl," he rasped, easing her face toward him. Behind her, he pressed the mirror until it flipped over, revealing the back of the frame. "Now, kiss me, witch."
*
When Mari opened her eyes once more, Bowen's warm, firm lips covered her own. Then he was lifting her and carrying her to the bed.
Once he settled her in his lap, she laid her hand against his unshaven cheek. How she'd missed him! She felt a sharp pang at how exhausted he looked. "I can't believe you made it here."
"I'm your familiar." He jutted his chin up in that proud way. "I'm tae guard you. Besides, you canna lose me this easily." His gaze held hers as he said, "I'll follow you anywhere, Mari."
"I'm so-- Whoa," she abruptly whispered, her hand flying to her forehead. The ponderous weight of Haxa's power was lessening. "Are my eyes clearing?"
"Aye." He exhaled with relief. "The binding's working."
"I can feel it." She bit her lip. "Bowen, about earlier--I'm sorry that my dad was rude to you. And I'm so sorry for everything that happened to you. The enchantment--"
"I'm no' sorry about that." When she gave him an incredulous look, he amended, "At first, I was furious. Then I realized that if we can be together, then everything's brought me to you. Think of it--I've even got to thank that damned vampire for beating me in the Hie. If not for that . . ." He trailed off with a shudder. "Besides, I doona mind the struggle, when the prize is so worthy."
"But it must eat at you that you went so long, and it was so agonizing--"
"If you doubt what I'm saying, then you have no' grasped what I'm feeling for you. I would do anything to be here with you like this. If you'll have me." His brows drew together. "You know how I feel about you, but I'm no' certain you love me ba--"
"I love you," she said quickly.
"Doona wish to ponder this? Be certain of your feelings? Play coy?"
"No way." She shook her head emphatically. "I've been a goner for you since the island, and was whipped since the first night we were together, together. But can you handle all this . . . witchery?"
"I wanted to tell you the day of the plane crash that I'd made up my mind to do whatever I had to in order to keep you--and that included accepting everything about you. I doona give a damn about all the variables as long as the constant is us--together." He squeezed her in his arms, tucking her into his chest.
He was holding her tightly--as if he'd never let her go.
And this struck her as tremendously good. Then she frowned. "Bowen?"
"Aye, love?"
"Why's your shirt inside out?"
55
Scotland Winter Solstice, six months later . . .
So that's how we're tae play this, wife?" Bowen said, when her snowball beaned him squarely in the face. He shook the snow from him in that wolfy way she loved. "You challenge a master at your own peril and have been duly warned."
She wiggled her gloved fingers at him. "Bring it on, Father Time."
But her eyes widened as he began piling up the biggest snowball she'd ever seen. She took off, darting back toward the lodge.
Playing in the snow--what an incredible way to end an already wonderful day. They'd arrived in Scotland just this morning. The jet ride was forgettable--literally, with proper sedation. And last night, just before Mari and Bowen had flown out, her parents had told her they were having a baby, which delighted her, though she promised them she'd "act out" due to the new sibling--
Bowen's mammoth snowball smacked her on the ass, nearly knocking her down. She gasped, looking over her shoulder.
"That's how you throw a snowball." Grinning, he took a bow, then loped after her.
Bowen grinned a lot now. And damn, it was a good look for him.
Playing with him like this, she recognized that her own chance of making it to forty without having kids with her Lykae was nil.
With a squeal, she let him catch her, and he dragged her down into the snow with him. "Dinna hurt you, did I?" he asked as he eased her beneath him.
Even though she'd turned immortal over three months ago, he still asked her that. She thought he always would and loved him for it. "Not at all."
"So you like it here?"
"Adore it."
"You're no' just saying that? Because I can--"
"I want to live half the year here." They'd stay the other six months in their place next to Andoain. "If I'm needed by the coven or for a freelance job, I can commute to the coven via mirror." She'd been working hard these last few months, organizing the Andoain coven with her parents' help and selling spells on her own. Did she hit it out of the park with each magick job? No, but at
least she continued to get referrals.
"In addition to the apple orchard I had planted here over the summer," he began, "I also bought a six-foot-high, full-length mirror. So we can commute. You'll take me through with you. Since I'm your familiar."
He took the position of "protector of his witch" very seriously, going with her to all her jobs, and grumbled when she suggested he was more of an accountabilibuddy for her magick. "Sounds good to me."
"So what do you think about real snow?" He'd razzed her without cease because apparently, her dimension's imagined snow had been like the stuff they used on movie sets.
"It's beautiful."
"Aye, beautiful," he said with his gaze locked on her face. "I knew snow would become you. I canna quite believe I'm finally enjoying my favorite season, and I'm doing it with you--my favorite sight."
He cupped her face and leaned down to give her a languid kiss. But when she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, he slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the contact until she was trembling beneath him.
Against his lips, she murmured, "Bowen . . ."
He drew back. "I know my female's tone. I'll be takin' you tae bed now."
When she nodded eagerly, he gave her a sly grin. "Your werewolf's still got it, eh, lass?"
Breathless, she smiled up at him. "If by it you mean me, then you'll never lose it."
Dark Needs at Night's Edge
A vampire warrior consumed by madness, trapped in the lair of an otherworldly temptress only he can see.
The beauty wants him gone--the warrior can't leave.
Let the games begin . . .
Available Now
Present day Outside of Orleans Parish
Stay sane, act normal, he chants to himself as he strides down the rickety pier. On either side of him, water black like tar. Ahead of him, muted light from the bayou tavern. A Lore bar. A lone neon sign flickers over flat skiffs below. Music and laughter carry. Stay sane . . . need to dull the rage. Until the endtime.
Inside. "Whiskey." His voice is low, rough from disuse.
The bartender's face falls. Like last night. Others grow skittish. Can they sense that I ache to kill? The whispers around him are like metal on slate to his ragged nerves.
--". . . madder than any I've seen in all my centuries."
--"A killer for hire. If he shows up in your town, then folks from the Lore there'll go missing."