Visions of Magic (5 page)

But there was nothing, so she took a breath and did a quick mental inventory. Nothing broken, thank God. Sore, bruised undoubtedly, but she was ready to run. She peered up and around the thick dark leaves and was relieved to see that the bush surrounding her backed against a wall of the house. No windows. So no way for Torin to have seen her fall.

Now all she had to do was escape before he discovered she was gone.

Scrambling, Shea fought her way free of the heavy plant, then staggered to her feet. Instantly, she headed for the darkest shadows on the lawn. She knew there was a high wall around the property, but she'd already noticed the sturdy, ancient trees lining the perimeter. Surely one of them would be close enough to the wall that if she was lucky, she could use it to vault herself to freedom.

That one word was like a talisman. She had to stay free, not just of Torin but of the agencies chasing her. Free of the civilians who would no doubt be on guard for her. She had to find a way to hide deeply enough that the world would, eventually, forget about her.

Shea clung to the shadows, keeping low, half expecting to hear a shout at any moment. To feel strong arms covered in flames wrap around her. To look up into gray eyes that were as merciless as they were mesmerizing. She took a breath and ducked beneath a low-hanging branch of an oak that looked as though it had been standing in that spot for a century or more. Taking off her shoes, she tucked them into the waistband of her skirt. Bare feet would make climbing easier. A dense canopy of leaves hid her from sight as she hiked her skirt up to her thighs, grabbed hold of a heavy branch and pulled herself up. Her injured knees scraped against the bark and pain she didn't have time to acknowledge shot through her.

Shea tossed a quick glance through the leaves at the brightly lit house behind her.

No sign that anyone was after her. Yet. Clinging to a branch, she pulled her shoes free and then tossed them, one after the other, over the wall. Her bare feet walked up the heavy limbs of the oak until she was within reach of the top of the wall. Leaning out, she held tight to the tree with one hand and reached for the wall with the other.

Don't look down,
she told herself, focusing solely on the top of the cinder-block wall. She bit back her fear, released the tree and clambered onto the wall, stretching out flat atop it. She threw a quick glance at the street below.

Torin's house was set back from the main road, where streetlights threw soft golden circles of light. Here by the wall, there was only more darkness.
Better,
she thought. Staying out of the light would help hide her. She swung over the edge, dug her toes into the wall, then carefully dropped to the ground. Blindly, she searched for her shoes, tugged them on, then hurried toward the road.

She hated having to be anywhere near the main street, since Torin would be following her soon. But what choice did she have? She wasn't even sure where she was.

Her heels tapped lightly on the asphalt and she cringed at even that slight sound. But better to risk the noise than to step on something and injure herself before she got a running start.

Her breath came in uneven gasps and her long red hair fell in tumbled curls around her shoulders. Her gaze continually swept her surroundings and she jolted at every brush of wind against a bush. Somewhere down the road a dog howled and Shea shivered.

Overhead, clouds raced across the sky. The ever-present wind tugged at her hair, her clothes, with icy fingers and through it all, the pulse beat of the ocean thrummed in the air.

At the corner, Shea pushed her hair back from her face and paused in the shadows, scanning the road in front of her. Not much traffic. Must have been later than she'd thought. The residents were all tucked in behind their privacy gates, secure in their elegant mansions. And with any luck, none of them would ever know she had been there.

She stepped into the street, avoiding the circles of light thrown from the old-fashioned streetlamps. Thankfully, this part of Malibu obviously preferred form over function. If they'd had the more modern lights here, she would have had a much harder time remaining unseen. As it was, she had to move quickly, walking on grass and gravel, trying to get as much distance between her and Torin as possible. Then she would be free to lose herself in a new identity.

The tightness around her chest loosened with every step. She would survive. She'd done it before. She could do it again. This time was no different.

But it was different.

The last time she'd disappeared, she hadn't been a murderer. Now she was. She'd killed that man who had attacked her. It didn't matter that she hadn't meant to. Mistake or premeditated, he was just as dead. She bit down on her bottom lip and told herself that it was an accident. She'd never hurt anyone in her life until today.

Shea swiped one hand across her eyes, wiping away the sting of tears with impatience. Being sorry wouldn't accomplish anything. Wouldn't change anything. What had happened, happened and there was just no going back.

So she would go forward.

And what about the
fire
? The pulse of energy that had jolted from her fingertips? What was she supposed to do about that? For ten years, she'd been denying that she was a witch to anyone who would listen. Now, though, that argument wouldn't work, even with herself. There was magic inside her, whether she wanted it or not. And she really didn't.

Even being suspected of witchcraft was dangerous.

To actually
be
a witch was usually a death sentence.

Frowning at her own scattershot thoughts, Shea told herself that she'd do what Torin had said and would learn to control it. Just because she apparently carried magic within her didn't mean she had to use it. She would stop the magic. She'd figure it all out. But she'd do it her way, on her time. She wasn't going to trust anyone. Certainly not a man who could manifest the very flames she was terrified of.

On her own, she'd be safe.

It was the only way.

She smiled to herself, ducked beneath the overhanging branches of a jacaranda tree, lacy leaves tickling her skin. The soft slide of her shoes on the grass was the only sound except the ocean. Even that lonely dog had stopped howling. Maybe that was a good sign, she thought.

She was free. The danger was behind her and safety lay within reach.

A deep voice erupted from behind her. “Gotcha!”

“G
one?” Torin narrowed his gaze on the housekeeper. Anna was practically vibrating with agitation. Her eyes kept shifting to avoid looking directly into his and she had her hands fisted so tightly at her waist that her knuckles were white.

To save time, Torin started for the staircase, wanting to see for himself that Shea was indeed missing. He heard Anna and Rune right behind him, but didn't bother looking back. Instead, he merely growled, “What do you mean, she's gone?”

“Just what I said. I know you told me that no one was to go in her room,” Anna said a little breathlessly as she hurried to keep up with him, “but I heard an odd noise and thought it best to check it out.”

“And . . .” He hit the top of the stairs, took a sharp left and stalked down the hall, gaze fixed on Shea's open door.

“And, nothing,” the older woman said. “She wasn't there.”

“Where in the name of the gods could she have gone?”

Rune's viciously muttered question reverberated in Torin's mind. Along with another one all his own. Why would she go? Foolish woman. She knew she was in danger. Hadn't he just saved her from a mob only hours ago? Why would she risk running?

Had he pushed her too hard, too fast? Had he expected too much too soon? No, he told himself firmly. It had been aeons! How patient was he to be, damn the witch!

With those questions and more running through his thoughts, Torin walked into Shea's room and opened up every sense he possessed. He closed his eyes, reaching out to her, trying to locate her as he had done through countless centuries. There was a bond between Eternal and Witch and no matter how tenuous those strings of attachment grew at times, they were never completely severed.

Unless . . .

He threw a look at Rune. “There's nothing. I can't feel her at all.”

“Then she's been captured. They've probably got white gold on her to tamp down her power.”

White gold inhibited magical abilities. For Eternal and Witch alike. It was like a dampening field where power was muffled and connections were nearly impossible to maintain. Torin couldn't use the very magic that bonded him and Shea to track her. Once that power was shut down, his link with her was if not shattered, then at least muted.

He walked to the balcony and stared out at the night and the world beyond his compound. Here he'd offered her safety. He'd offered her power and the mating that would usher them both from the dark past into a future unstained with old sins and bitter regrets.

And she'd fled from it.

“By the stars,” he muttered, “what was she thinking? Does she really trust herself to the compassion of humans?”

Rune came up beside him and clapped one hand on Torin's shoulder in camaraderie. “You said yourself, she doesn't remember. Doesn't know yet who and what she is. Or what you are to her.”

Torin turned on him, fury bubbling like a black brew. “And I'm to be
patient
for how long? For centuries, we've waited. Now that the time's come, I should have taken her the moment she entered this house. I thought to give her time to adjust. To accept that the mating would begin.” He pushed away from the balcony rail and shook back his long fall of black hair. “No, patience has not served any of us. Now I will find her and we end this. Finally and at last, we end it.”

Rune stared at him for a long moment before nodding agreement. Torin didn't care whether his fellow Eternal shared his sentiments or not. Nothing mattered now but Shea Jameson. And may the gods protect whoever was trying to keep her from him. Because Torin was devoid of mercy.

He set one hand on the railing and vaulted over the balcony. He landed softly, just beyond the bush that had obviously broken Shea's fall. Idiot woman, did she not realize what she risked by putting her own life in danger? Did she really believe that the humans of this world were more trustworthy than
her Eternal
?

M
ore scared than she'd ever been, Shea fought back as strong hands grabbed her and dragged her off her feet. Before she could take a breath to scream, a heavy hand dropped over her mouth. She tried to bite it, but failed.

“Lock her down!” A different voice, deeper, whispered the command. More than one man was circling her, touching her, wrestling her to the ground.

“Watch her hands!” someone else muttered viciously.

Her hands. The energy pulse. The fire. She didn't want to hurt anyone, but she wasn't going to allow them to hurt her, either. She lifted both palms, but dropped them again when she was slapped so viciously that her head snapped to one side and tears spurted from her eyes.

Still, she kicked out wildly, and in her blind attempt to free herself, connected with someone. She heard a grunt of pain. Then another man grabbed her ankles and held her still. Shea bucked in their grasp, writhing and struggling, but they were too strong and there were just too many of them.

Fear rose up fast and thick inside her. Her mind raced and her heart beat so frantically, she felt as though it would pop out of her chest. She'd been caught. Before she'd made it a mile from Torin's home, she'd been found and trapped. And if she didn't think fast, she was going to disappear at someone else's hands.

Something cold draped around her neck and even while she struggled, Shea sensed a weight dropping onto her soul. She felt heavy, leaden. Her body wasn't affected by whatever they'd done to her, but her soul was being crushed. She tried to lift her hands, but couldn't find the will. The spark of energy she'd felt that afternoon when she'd faced the mugger was blocked up inside her, struggling, as she was, to escape.

“Stupid witch,” one of the men whispered, so close to her ear that she felt his hot breath on her skin, “you think we'll give you a chance to fry us the way you did that poor bastard today?”

Oh, God.
“I didn't—”

Someone slapped her again, but she couldn't see who. It didn't matter. They were all against her. All of them working in concert to keep her from escaping. They might as well have been one entity. In the darkness the men surrounding her were merely darker shadows. Moving, constantly moving, as if they were being careful to not make themselves targets.

She couldn't hurt them—and they knew it, so their caution was simply born of their underlying fear. That she understood. Hadn't she been living with ripe, glorious fear for more than ten years herself? Hadn't she jolted at every knock on the door? Every ring of the phone? And what good had any of it done her?

She'd still ended up here, a captive lying in the dirt, with strangers' hands moving over her as she lay trapped. Whatever “power” she might have had was asleep. And she wished to hell it wasn't.

Yes, this afternoon she'd killed a man with magic and had been sorry for it. Now, she would give anything to have that power at her command. She had to get away. And there was no chance of escape now. That strong hand stayed cupped over her mouth while she was forced onto her stomach. Bits of dirt and gravel dug into her face. Her arms were wrenched behind her back and a plastic zip tie was fixed around her wrists, digging painfully into her skin.

She moaned and squirmed against the restraints until a new voice entered the fray and Shea stilled to listen.