Heart and Soul (24 page)

Kelsey loved nearly every last inch of the old school.

But not here.

The dungeons were kept away from the area that was used as school and dormitory. In the southern wing, located several floors below the chambers where the Council met, it was protected by more than just stone and the deadly trained assassins who dealt with the more dangerous creatures.

The Select had been Malachi’s brainchild, created centuries before Kelsey had been born. He’d started selecting warriors from the Hunters, the best of the best.

Kelsey had heard rumors that Nessa had been one of them for awhile.

She couldn’t quite imagine her friend as an assassin, but strangely, she couldn’t completely discount the idea.

The Select were what Kelsey considered a contingency plan. Every good strategist understood the need for a contingency plan. Although it was rare, there were incidents when the average Hunter just couldn’t quite handle some of the nasties they had to deal with.

People like Morgan.

Unlike many other Hunters, the Select did not set up territories. Nor did they roam from city to city searching out their prey.

Instead, they remained at Brendain, awaiting the Council’s orders. Right now, the Select’s mission was safeguarding the lone witch that was being held in the dungeons.

Brendain’s dungeons were likely the most secure place in the entire world. No prisoner could hope to escape both the Select and the other, quieter defenses the school boasted.

Those quieter defenses were older than some of the Council members.

There were spells laid into the walls, into the floor, into the very earth. Spells designed to keep the prisoners from using any of their power, magicks designed to render them nearly helpless.

They did not affect the members of the Council or the Select. The wards were nearly sentient. It was as if whoever had created them so long ago had breathed life as well as power into them, enabling them to know the difference between good and evil.

As Kelsey passed through the final doors, she felt a light electric buzz pass over her skin. One of the protection wards. Each cell had a similar ward that was deactivated only by a few select people. The Council members could come and go at will, but to remove the prisoner, the ward had to be taken down.

The Select had a witch—a quiet, dark woman by the name of Selene. Selene could deactivate the wards, but only in times of emergency and only with orders from the Council. It was an emergency fallback, just in case the designated witches couldn’t do it.

Well, designated witch. Kelsey was the sole witch left on the Council now. Hopefully that problem would be remedied soon. For now, unless it was deemed there was an emergency, Kelsey was the only one with the authority to deactivate the wards.

Not exactly a heavy burden—at least it hadn’t ever been before. The wards only had to be deactivated when one of the prisoners was brought out. Placing a new prisoner inside wouldn’t set the wards off, and the comings and goings of Hunters did nothing, either.

But still, Kelsey would be damn glad when there was somebody else besides her to deal with this part. They were busy searching for Agnes’s replacement but had yet to find one.

Kelsey wasn’t sure when they’d find someone suitable.

Vax Matthews had been approached, and he refused, exactly as Kelsey had expected he would.

Vax had little use for diplomacy and even less use for sitting in a position of authority. The Native American was a complete loner. It was too damned bad, because she couldn’t think of any other that would serve the Council as well as he would have.

Right now, there were three other witches that had been summoned. One from Canada, one from Brazil, one from Zimbabwe. Hopefully, one of them would do, because Kelsey really didn’t like the burden of being the sole witch on the Council. Even though Agnes had been mostly retired, she had still acted as a Council authority when she was needed.

In hindsight, Kelsey knew they should have had another candidate ready. Nessa hadn’t just been old, she’d been tired. The Council shouldn’t have kept relying on her when she so clearly wanted to be left in peace to live out the rest of her life.

It was quiet in the dungeons. The halls were lit by naked bulbs, a fairly new addition. Up until thirty years ago, the only light source down here had been gas lamps and candles. Creature comforts weren’t something the Hunters believed in giving to the prisoners. The bare basics were all they bothered with.

Morgan was the only occupant in the dungeons, but that didn’t mean anything to the Select. As always, there were four guards. A witch that Kelsey didn’t know, a vampire she knew only vaguely, a werewolf, and an Inherent shifter. The shifter nodded at Kelsey, a low, deferential bowing of his head that made Kelsey smile a little. Almost like he had gone down on bended knee before her.

The Select were highly traditional. At times, it seemed like they still lived in another time. They lived by a set of rules that many Hunters would have found too confining.

“Is she sleeping?” Kelsey asked Dawn.

The witch shook her head. “No. She hasn’t slept at all since she was brought here.”

Nearly thirty-six hours. Kelsey frowned a little as she moved to the door. It was steel, and the lock was an odd bit of technology that seemed out of place. A fingerprint scanner. They’d been using those on the cells doors for the past three or four years.

Pressing her thumb to the pad, she waited for the locks to release. Just before she stepped inside, the witch asked quietly, “Is there a problem?”

Glancing over her shoulder, Kelsey said, “None that I’m aware of.”

Then she let the door close behind her.

Kelsey found Morgan curled up in the corner. She looked cold, but she made no move to get the blankets on the cot. The tray of food was untouched, the plate still covered, the tall glass of ice water still full. “The food not to your liking?” Kelsey asked.

The girl’s eyes darted her way, and then she went back to staring at the floor.

“Is there anything you’d like me to bring you? A book? Anything?”

Silence.

Talk to her
, Kelsey thought darkly.
How in the hell am I supposed to talk to her when she won’t open her mouth?
Hell, the girl wouldn’t even look at Kelsey.

This quiet just didn’t seem natural. The girl hadn’t pleaded for her life, hadn’t tried to escape or use her magick even once, although she knew what was coming.
What is going on in your head?
Kelsey wondered.

Still watching Morgan, Kelsey crossed to the sole chair and sat on the edge. Linking her fingers, she rested her elbows on her knees and just watched the girl. Minutes ticked by. Nearly an hour passed.

The soft whisper made Kelsey jump. For a moment, it didn’t make sense.

“He promised he would come back.”

Licking her lips, Kelsey stared at the girl. Morgan was still sitting there with her back to the wall, her hands knotted together in her lap. “Who promised, Morgan?”

Big blue eyes flashed, glowing angrily, but then the girl looked away, her hair falling once more to hide her face. “I do not remember it being so cold here last time.”

“Last time?” Kelsey asked.

No answer. Abruptly, the girl stood up, and she looked at Kelsey square in the eye. Frail, fragile hands came up, pushing back the heavy fall of hair. Her eyes went from dazed and startled to clear, sharp blue.

Under that eerie, direct stare, Kelsey shivered a little; it suddenly seemed very, very cold. When Morgan spoke again, Kelsey felt her blood ice over.

“Have you found your center yet, Kelsey?”

Kelsey jerked, stumbling out of the chair and away from Morgan. The chair fell over in a clatter as Kelsey stared at the girl with wide, shocked eyes. “What did you say?”

But instead of repeating it, Morgan started to hum. She paced the room, staring into nothingness as her hands combed through her hair and started to separate it into sections. For a moment, she looked almost happy, but then her expression changed, the smile on her mouth dying, tears shining in the blue depths of her eyes.

“He promised he would come back. I waited and waited. It has been so long—twenty years? Thirty? More?” Morgan muttered to herself. Her hands shook as she started to weave her hair into a fat braid. “How long am I supposed to wait?”

The wall at her back was the only thing holding Kelsey up as she stared at Morgan. Her voice sounded familiar—hauntingly so. “Who are you waiting for, Morgan?”

The blonde woman paused, looking at Kelsey with vague eyes. “Morgan . . .” Then she shook her head and went back to pacing. She finished her braid and tossed it over her shoulder. She didn’t have anything to bind the end of it with, and almost immediately, the thick cable of hair loosened a little.

Her eyes looked haunted and scared as she looked around her, barely meeting Kelsey’s eyes. Once more, she looked timid and nervous, skittish. “Nothing here is the same. It has changed so much.”

Kelsey swallowed. Her throat was so tight and dry, she could hear a faint clicking sound as she did it. Her voice was little more than a rusty croak when she told Morgan, “Why don’t you tell me who you are looking for? I know most of the people from around here. Maybe I can help.”

Sad blue eyes met hers. “He was not from around here. And nobody can help me.”

Blood roared in her ears. It was so loud, so powerful. Her head spun as she shoved off the wall and took one shaky step, then another and another until she stood next to Morgan. Reaching out a hand, she asked softly, “Why don’t you let me try?”

A small, trembling hand pressed against hers—just long enough to squeeze her fingers gently. “You cannot help me, lady. Nobody can.” She went to pull away.

But Kelsey clung to her hand. A soft, shocked breath left her. “Oh, dear God,” she murmured.

Familiar—too familiar.

“Let me go.”

Instead, Kelsey reached up and touched her fingers to Morgan’s cheek. As she did, the woman slumped, falling bonelessly to the ground. Linked to her, unable to break contact, Kelsey went down as well. But even as her body hit the ground, it felt like she was still falling—falling—

Light flashed, wickedly bright, and then it was gone, and Kelsey moaned as darkness rushed up. When the darkness faded, she found herself standing at the outskirts of some primitive village. There was a man tied to a stake, wood at his feet. And a woman, petite and blonde, standing before another man, heavyweight and filthy, his face sober and righteous, and his eyes lecherous. The woman had Morgan’s face, delicate and heart-shaped, dominated by huge blue eyes that gleamed with tears and fury.

As Kelsey watched, the woman let herself get bound.

A sick feeling grew in the pit of Kelsey’s stomach. Even before it happened, Kelsey knew what was coming next. The woman screamed as the obese man turned and plunged a knife into the unprotected side of the other man.

As the woman’s horrified scream echoed through the night, she leaped for the injured man. Fire erupted from the ground, seemingly out of nowhere, forming a protective ring around the woman and her dying man.

Kelsey closed her eyes as the woman sobbed out, “Elias, do not leave me.”

With a gasp, Kelsey wrenched herself from the woman’s mind. Jerking away, Kelsey scuttled on her hands and feet across the floor, getting as far away as possible.

Huddling against the wall by the door, Kelsey wrapped her arms around her body. Across the room, the woman still lay on the floor. Her eyes were closed, tears rolling out from under her lowered lids as she sobbed, deep, ugly sounds that seemed like they were coming from her very soul.

Shaken, Kelsey tore her eyes away and stared at the wall in front of her. “How did this happen?”

 

 

MAYBE HE WAS IMAGINING IT.

After all, what he felt for Kelsey had turned into some kind of obsession.

And the woman from his dreams—she wasn’t real. Malachi had admitted that to himself a long time ago. Just the product of an overactive imagination and loneliness.

Mal lay on the couch in the living room, torturing himself with the scent of skin that still lingered in the air and trying to convince himself he had overreacted.

But he was still riding high on the blood he’d taken from her vein. He knew how long that high would last, knew that even when the initial buzz faded, it would still give him a strength that he couldn’t get from mortal blood. She was a witch, but he’d fed from witches before, and none of them had given him a kick like this.

In fact, he’d only known this sort of buzz in his dreams.

“Bugger.” He rolled to a sitting position and buried his face in his hand. His hair hung freely down his back, spilling around his shoulders, and he couldn’t help but remember how Kelsey had fisted her hands in it as she pulled him closer. The way her body arched under his. The way she moaned under his touch.

Her moans had sounded so familiar.

And damn it, the longer he dwelled on it, the more it seemed like a lot of things had felt familiar about Kelsey. The way she tasted. The way she moved against him.

If he hadn’t been so out of his head about getting his hands on her—was there a birthmark on the outer curve of her hip? A scar on her knee?

“If you hadn’t lost your bloody mind, you just might know the answer to that,” he muttered, falling back against the couch.

CHAPTER THREE