Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night

Once more, she eased the letter out and opened it, frowning to find it was from the Valkyrie Nïx, and intended for Mari. Why hadn't MacRieve given it to her? Instead the bastard had broken the seal and read it!

After a glare in his direction, she skimmed the lines.

Mariketa,

Happy Accession! Behold, a gift. A skeleton key of sorts... a piece of the puzzle for the Witch in the Glass.

Fondly as ever,

Lady Nïx,

Proto-Valkyrie

My mother says I must not pass

Too near that glass;

She is afraid that I will see

A little witch that looks like me,

With a red, red mouth to whisper low

The very thing I should not know!

   PS: You still owe me fifty bucks.

What—the—hell?

What glass? Was the mother Mari's own? Why would Nïx think Mari would need this?

Mari had known Nïx all her life, and she was aware that, as confused as Nïx always seemed, the Valkyrie did not do things without reason. In fact, Mari had been around her enough to know that everything she did—no matter how seemingly inconsequential or crazed-sounding—was done with purpose, from a stray word to an absent touch.

With that in mind, Mari took the letter and padded past MacRieve and the fire toward the water. At the pool, she knelt down and peered at the smooth surface, wondering if the words could be an incantation.

Mari's spell casting was hit-or-miss at best, and witches were most vulnerable to another's spells when they cast their own. Spells opened the gates, and anything could get in.

As Elianna taught, 'Reach for power, leave your power vulnerable.'

Mari's uncontrollable, near useless power. What was there to lose, truly? Besides the ability to send MacRieve airborne?

Decided, she began to murmur the words, once, twice... on the third recitation, her reflection began to shift as if the pool had been disturbed. Then she saw something she never expected. Her eyes looked like mirrors and her hair swirled about her head, though Mari felt her hair heavy down her back in the windless cave. It was her in the water, but it wasn't.

'What... what is this?' she whispered.

The reflection spoke, answering, 'A conjuration.'

Mari was actually conjuring? 'Who are you?' she breathed in amazement.

'You,' the reflection replied.

'But how?'

'You are the Mirror Witch. Reflections conduct your powers to you.' The voice was Mari's own, but distorted—the way wind sounded different sieving through misted leaves.

'I can divine by mirror?' She knew of a few witches who could do this, and it was a handy talent to have.

'You are a true captromancer.'

Whoa. Not just a handy talent. Captromancers were extremely rare. They were said to be able not only to divine by mirrors, as astromancers did with stars, but to use them as focusing tools, protective talismans—and even as portals for travel. 'But I don't understand. I've never used a mirror to aid my magick.'

'Come with me—I'll show you.'

Mari pulled back, fear like ice building inside her veins. 'In there?'

'Are you ready, Mari?'

'R-ready for what?' She felt danger warring with allure, her compulsion battling her aversion. This could be a trick by a sorceress, a spell to divert Mari's powers from her. She shook her head wildly. 'No, I'm not ready... not ready... '

When a pale hand broke the surface of the water, Mari wanted to lunge back, to escape this, but was transfixed by the glistening apple offered in the nearly transparent palm. In that sighing voice, the reflection coaxed, 'Just have a taste... '

20

Bowe swallowed, rubbing his eyes in disbelief...

Yet Mariketa still was there, reaching forward to accept an apple from a ghostly wet hand.

Shooting to his feet, charging for her, he roared, 'Doona touch it!'

His bellow echoed again and again. In the shadows all around them, the bats erupted into flight. As he sprinted past the water, out of the corner of his eye he saw the reflection of the witch—but it didn't match her. Mariketa hadn't glanced up at him; the woman in the water kept her brilliant eyes on him.

He lunged for Mariketa, snatching the apple from her hand, then throwing it against the wall so hard it disintegrated. Just as the bats swarmed them, he pressed her down, rolling atop her to protect her head and body.

Minutes passed. When the throng settled at last, she opened her eyes—and they reflected him, before gradually clearing.

'You vowed to me you would no' do magick around me!'

'I-I figured you would be asleep.'

'Even worse!' Bowe had woken to find his arms empty of warm, curvy witch and had been displeased about that to a surprising degree. He'd heard her rummaging through his bag and had thought she might be searching his things for the same reason he'd done hers—because she was itching with curiosity about him. Instead she'd been intent on getting to that chilling letter. 'You went through my bag.'

'You went through mine! Why didn't you give me the letter? It was for me!'

'Because I bloody knew something like this would happen. The thing in the water came about because of that rhyme, did it no'? And just what in the hell was that thing?'

'I don't know.'

'It looked like you.' In a diabolical way. 'If you doona know what it is, then how do you know it will no' harm you?'

She attempted a shrug.

He exhaled. 'How am I to protect you if you do things like this?' That was one of the reasons he detested magick so much—it was an enemy he couldn't see, couldn't understand, and couldn't defend against. He comprehended nothing about that rhyme, or why he himself had reacted so strongly to it. 'I doona suppose you have any idea about what you canna know?'

'No. No idea.' Her gaze flickered over his face.

When her eyes didn't appear witchy, they were so damned lovely. Fringed with thick black lashes, they were gray like fierce storm clouds—and as intense as everything else about her. He felt as if she was supposed to look up at him like this. The pull of the Instinct was strong, making him feel he'd done right to protect her and now was rewarded by having her safe in his arms.

The need to kiss her suddenly became critical...

'Oh, not again!' She tried to wriggle out from under him, which only made his erection grow harder. When her lips parted on a breath, he knew she'd felt it pulse against her.

'I'll put you across the cave, MacRieve.'