kept waiting, dangling on the end of the witches’ leashes. We’re Eternals, man, not tame dogs to be told when to come and when to go.”
“I didn’t say that,” Rune argued, realizing that he’d said the very same things all too recently to Torin. “But with the Awakening on us now, we should all be aware of where our witch is and what’s happening to her.”
“What makes you think he isn’t?” Odell leapt up from his chair, stalked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself another splash of Irish. He kicked it back, then slammed the tumbler onto the closest table. “He owes no one an explanation of where he goes and what he does, Rune. He’s no doubt keeping an eye on this Kellyn from afar. Waiting for her powers to awaken, just like the rest of us damn fools.”
Rune stood up too, facing down the man he’d called friend for thousands of years. “Her powers are awakening. She’s a teleporter, and a damn strong one, from what I saw. So if it’s all kicking into place, where the hell is Egan?”
Odell scowled at him, fierceness carved into his features. “How am I to know? You come to my home and start fuming at me over another Eternal’s problems? What sense is that, man?”
“I didn’t start fuming until you started shouting, dumb shit.”
Instantly, the fury on Odell’s face drifted into an expression of amusement. “Well, you have me there. All right, then. Since you can’t find your stray Eternal and you’ve clearly nothing better to do with your time than drink my whiskey…”
Wary, Rune watched his friend. “What?”
Odell slapped his palms together and scrubbed them briskly. “I thought I might convince you to come along with me on an adventure of sorts.”
He’d been on an adventure with Odell once before, in 1014. He’d ended up a part of the battle against the Ulstermen and was witness to the death of the last hereditary high king of Ireland, Brian Boru. The war had been a glorious one, though, as Rune remembered it.
“What sort of ‘adventure’ is it this time, old friend?”
Odell winked and grinned. “I’ve a raid planned on an internment camp just outside Crawley.”
“A raid?”
“Aye,” Odell told him. “The camp’s not far from Gatwick. Authorities fly the women in from all over England and Scotland, then trundle them off to the Crawley camp. I’m going in tonight to spirit away those sentenced to death.” His features went hard and cold. His Eternal gray eyes were as icy as winter fog. “There are six slated to be put to the fire in the next week. I’m getting them out. And if you’re not too busy, I might be able to use your help.”
Rune smiled. He couldn’t find Egan. Had no idea where to look next. So. Until he came up with a better plan, he’d do what he could here, with Odell. A raging battle with mortal prison guards sounded good to him at the moment. “I’m in.”
Odell grinned and slapped him on the back hard enough to send a lesser man through a wall. “Excellent. We’ll go now.”
“Where do we take them once we’ve got them free?”
Odell laughed and the sound boomed in the otherwise still room. “That’s the best part. The closest Sanctuary is in Ashdown Forest. One of the biggest tourist draws around these parts.”
“Are you crazy?” Rune demanded.
“Not at all,” Odell told him, already calling on the fire and becoming a giant pillar of flame. “Hide in plain sight and those who chase you never find you.”
“If he’s not crazy,” Rune said as his friend flashed out of the room, “then I certainly am.”
An instant later, he followed Odell into the heart of the enemy.
The sea air was cold.
The ever-waxing moon tossed pale light onto the surface of the churned-up waves, highlighting them with an otherworldly green phosphorescence. There was music drifting into the air from the Queen’s Room ballroom on the third deck. Shea stepped through the open terrace doors to the private verandah off their suite. She followed the music as if she could see the notes hanging in the air.
The song playing was an old one. If she’d had to make a guess at its age, she would have put it somewhere in the forties. It was slow and sad and bluesy, with a wailing saxophone that touched something inside her deeply enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“You cry?”
She didn’t even jump when Torin came up behind her. What did that say? she wondered. Was she getting so used to him now? Or was she on such a high alert at all times it was simply impossible to startle her anymore?
“Shea,” he said, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her back to his front. Resting his chin on top of her head, he asked, “Tell me why you’re crying.”
“It’s silly,” she said, staring out at the moon-dropped diamonds of light on the surface of the ocean. “I’m not even sure why. It’s the music, I guess. It sounds… lonely.”
“There’s more to your tears than music.”
She tipped her head back to look up at him. “Of course there’s more, Torin. We’re almost to England. Two more days and then what?”
“Then we do what we must to end this. Or at least, our share of it.”
“Easier said than done,” she whispered, turning her gaze back to the sea and sky. “I don’t know where I hid my piece of the Artifact. I don’t even know where Haven is.”
“You will.”
“You sound so sure,” she said and heard the envy in her own voice. “I wish I was.”
Tiny white lights rimmed the edges of the ship’s decks. It looked like a fairyland at night, Shea thought. Hundreds of people were on the decks below, but here, on the verandah, she and Torin were the only two people in the world. No one could see them here. They were alone with each other and the night.
“Your confidence is growing, Shea. I can sense it in you.”
“Not quickly enough,” she said.
He chuckled, a rare sound coming from him. “You always were impatient.”
Being reminded of her past self did nothing to heighten Shea’s self-confidence. Yes, she had been impatient. And greedy. And reckless. Did she still have those traits inside her? Were they strong enough to resurface? And if they did, could she stop herself from making the same mistake she’d made so long ago?
“Call the fire.”
Her thoughts splintered. “What?”
“Call on your fire, Shea,” Torin told her. “As you did on the day we met, when you stopped the attacker.”
“When I killed him, you mean.”
“Shea-”
Shaking her head, she pulled free of Torin’s grip and ignored the iciness crawling through her without his touch to ground her.
“I don’t need that power, Torin,” she said firmly. “I don’t want it. I don’t ever want to risk losing control again.”
“If you fear losing control,” he said quietly, “then there’s a reason for that fear. It means only that you don’t trust yourself.”
“Damn straight I don’t,” she countered. “I killed that guy, Torin.” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her middle to offset the shivers racking her body. “God, sometimes in my dreams, I can still hear him screaming.”
He huffed out an impatient breath. “The man was not worth one moment of your guilt or misery. He would have killed you, Shea.”
“Instead I killed him.” She looked at him. “I don’t want to use the fire, Torin. I don’t want to open that door again.”
God, she thought with a wincing inner laugh. Opening doors. Wasn’t that what had gotten her into trouble centuries ago? The coven had opened doors and nearly ended the world.
