Wicked Paradise (31 page)

“Open it,” he commanded. “Now’s not the time to freak out. If this doesn’t work, we’ll both bite it tonight.”

Without skipping another heartbeat, she flipped the lid open. The sight of the pale human heart nestled in the plastic-lined, black velveteen interior stung her eyes.

“Touch it, hold it. Make it appear as if you yanked it out of my dead body. Your touch and smell must be all over it.” Michael’s bark belied the angst ghosting his face, deepening the circles under his glacial eyes. He poured half the vial of blood over the lifeless organ. “Smear it all over.”

Lauren clasped the table to still her shaking hands, adopted an uncharacteristic arctic mien, and handled her task efficiently. Michael’s ensorcelled blood was tepid, matching the newly acquired heart cut out of the corpse of their latest war casualty. Michael’s second lieutenant had met the pointed end of a Fomorian minion’s saber while walking his perimeter rounds that morning. Gooseflesh broke out on her arms, and she finished quickly before she spewed her breakfast over the gruesome heart. In the adjoining bathroom, she poured seawater in the sink and scrubbed her trembling hands, leaving a few rusty splotches on the backs to show evidence of her perceived assault on Michael.

Together, they invoked the final banishing spell on four vials of perfected vanquishing poison. When finished, she carefully stuck them with Michael’s ring into the designated compartments in her purse.

“I’ll stand guard outside his house, shielded. Like we planned.” Michael guided her to the door, the wooden box clutched in his hand. “If the banishing spell and poison don’t kill him, I’ll draw from the stars and link our powers, okay?”

“We were meant to be together, Michael.” Lauren kissed him, smoothing the lines across his forehead. “Nothing will go wrong. Alexander’s led by his dick these days, and I know how to stroke that to my advantage.”

Fury colored Michael’s face, but he rapidly masked it. “I hate that that bastard has touched you.”

Lauren averted her face, shrugged. “My skin’s raw from the scrubbing I give myself after every visit with him. I’ll live.”

Michael had nothing to say to that. Every night she fell asleep shaking in his arms, he agonized over the open wound her forced affair with Alexander left in her heart and in his own. Nevertheless, it had been imperative she gain Alexander’s trust to ascertain his vulnerabilities.

Tonight was the beginning of the end. Magic and balance would return to the Druids. They would reclaim Earth and ship the Fomorian scourge to hell forever. Michael hugged the teak box to his side. He swore the heart thumped against the interior in tandem with the heart pumping icy blood through his veins.

Chapter 30

After hours plodding through the jungle, Ryan reached the volcano’s perimeter. Between his innate tracking abilities and the island’s guidance, he knew Morgan was there. Bird cackles bounced off the side of the volcano. He glanced up into a sandalwood tree and saw the stalking ravens land at the top. Instead of flitting to the next northbound tree, they dug into the branch and fell silent. “Suppose you featherheads know she’s here, too.”

Bracing his weight against a staggered rock formation, he stretched his magic out, seeking the precious bond. With the incomplete spells and their dwindling magic, his link to Morgan was no stronger. He felt her presence, though, a feather dusting his mind. Token relief loosened the knots working across his shoulders, down his arms.

The two moons dominated the early twilight sky and illuminated the withered perimeter of the conical mountain. The volcano appeared inactive, and he guessed it hadn’t caused the death of plants and trees that extended out two hundred feet from the base. The island had quit encroaching on the volcano, as if it also detested the evil within. It has to be WindWraith’s lair. Where else would it hole up on this forsaken island?

RavenStar nudged a couple of rocks the size of basketballs, trying to reach a patch of island grass sprouting between them.

“Leave it.” Ryan toed the foal away. “Morgan’s returning the island to life.” He idiotically spoke to the winged horse. Just as crazily, he believed the damned thing understood him. RavenStar gave up on the new growth and watched him, head hung low with soulful eyes.

Ryan returned to the verdant border separating life from death and perched on a boulder. RavenStar butted his leg expectantly as if a snap of his fingers would magically produce Morgan. “I wish.” He waved the foal off. “Settle down.”

The winged horse sagged to the ground underneath a low-growing palm fern, hidden from view above. Ryan had no reason to hide from WindWraith, since it probably already knew of his presence. The crystals in his knapsack kept him safe, giving him a chance to finesse the plan he’d formulated on his journey.

He ate several strips of jerky, then lit the reed torch he’d made on his hike. Ryan thanked his lucky star he’d found a box of lighters buried beneath rubble in a demolished convenience store in south New Angeles and had stuffed a few in his backpack. He feared using magic to start a fire in case it gave the Fomorian bastard a conduit to grasp onto his magic.

The torch threw off enough light for him to search for an entrance in the volcano’s base. Climbing to the volcano top and attempting to enter through the top barely made it on his short list of backup plans. He drilled the spiked pole into the ground, anchoring the torch with rocks.

More stars popped in the diamond-studded canvas above him. Night descended, the moons brightened, encroaching on the starlight surrounding them. Ryan blew out a weary sigh, pacifying the terror that had flogged him since he discovered Morgan gone. Even though his ether magic was always attainable, his link to the visible stars augmented the magic inside him. A clear nighttime sky provided his best opportunity to defeat Fomorians. If ever he needed the glorious ether, it was to find the love of his life. The woman who made life worth living.

And Ryan needed as much power as possible, along with Morgan’s elemental magic, to destroy WindWraith. He rubbed his jaw, scratched a mosquito bite on his neck until it bled. If WindWraith had already possessed her, he’d require ether in their binding to scour the evil out.

A fierce tremble rolled up from his feet to his neck. He hoped it didn’t come down to that. WindWraith inside Morgan could easily kill him if they attempted the final ritual—if the bastard didn’t kill them both beforehand, or if anything existed of Morgan after it seized her body. The emotional rollercoaster twined his intestines into a cement ball. This mess would never reach that gods-awful state. He’d die trying to save Morgan.

After he annihilated every trace of WindWraith.

Stoked with determination, Ryan created an eight-point protection circle on the barren ground using crystals to form the points. Once he captured WindWraith, he’d use the impenetrable Druid circle to contain it, giving him time to reduce the shadow demon with smaller bursts of killing magic while he set in motion his next step of attack.

Satisfied with the circle, Ryan led RavenStar into the jungle. He carved out a burrow in a thicket, coaxed the foal inside, and cast an invisible shield over the bushes. Petting the winged horse’s head, he felt numb relief sift through the hardening ball in his gut. Morgan would hate it if anything happened to RavenStar. This small act for her gave him hope.

He reentered the volcano’s dead zone, centered his mind on starfire. Magic kindled, sparked in his gut, moved up his torso and down his legs, until his body became a mass of burning stars. Euphoria blew away his doubts, leaving warmth where frost had formed earlier. Ether emanated off him in a pale blue glow, and he commenced his search for an entry into the volcano, hardly needing the torch to light his way.

* * *

Power assailed Morgan. Her mind closed against the crawling feel of a water snake on the prowl. Tossing out barroom curses, she fought against her unseen restraints.

“What do you want from me?” she bit out through clenched teeth. The drugged fog had blown out of her mind. Magic dribbled inside her where it usually flooded. WindWraith and heat from the lava zapped her strength. A dangerously thinning air shield protected her. She tried to draw more air magic to thicken her shield, but it felt like drawing energy from a newborn.

Her heart thumped in her throat.
Breathe! Breathe
, she scolded in her head. Frustrated, she quit wasting her might on her impossible shackles and drew in steady, shallow puffs of air. Sulfur and dankness filled her lungs.

Morgan studied the mysterious cavern. Little had changed from her last view, but for one difference. For the first time since she’d spied the constantly undulating shadow her first day on the island, it held stationary beyond her feet as though asleep.

Black as death evil deluged the air, flowed across her skin in both freezing and scalding wickedness. The air burned the taint into her lungs, evil feelers exploring inward, leaving shards of darkness in their wake. She coughed and gagged, attempting to dispel the squiggly fingers. Her elemental earth magic raced to aid her barriers against the exploratory invasion. WindWraith withdrew, whipping away in a tornado, leaving her a shaking heap of limbs and nerves.

The Fomorian had never breached her skin and muscles, not even when it captured her in the glade. Holy Goddess! After more than a century leeching the island’s powers and days feeding upon Morgan and Ryan, WindWraith’s strength had expanded immensely. Was she too late, too weak to destroy it?
No, no, no!

Fear for Ryan chilled her burning skin. Had he awakened? Did he know where she’d gone? Regardless, she must hatch an escape plan without factoring in rescue by him. Their bond had disappeared, but there wasn’t a devastating loss inside her heart. Ryan still lived.
I feel it in my soul
. She clung to the feeling, and it fed her efforts to escape.

WindWraith stroked her exposed skin, trying to provoke a response. She ignored it, no longer fooled by its fake arousal. Ryan’s passion was born of love and true destiny. The Fomorian’s false lusts stemmed from a lifetime of malevolent greed and vengeance.

WindWraith must die that night. No other alternative existed.

Morgan formed a mental sending to Ryan, gauging his receptiveness. The spell sputtered out in her purgatory. Resolve conquered a corner of her terror, and she concentrated her efforts on escape and WindWraith’s destruction.

Focusing her powers on unraveling the complex restraints, Morgan surreptitiously studied the fissure on the cavern wall she’d seen in her earlier vision. A needlepoint of light on the deadened crystals called to her. Excitedly, she studied the crack until she found several more glowing pinpricks. She glanced toward her feet to determine WindWraith’s awareness. The Fomorian hovered over her, its power less idle than a Druid initiate. No longer trying to breach her, the bastard merely swayed around her. Nor did it feel as malicious as it had earlier. Was WindWraith fooling her into taking rash actions? Or did it bide its time, gaining strength? Was it using her bond to Ryan to lure him here, if it even had the ability?

Carefully, she searched for similar dots on the earthen walls. After a few agonizing moments, she spied a sprinkle of subdued light. Her pulse quickened. WindWraith’s form fluctuated, its motions increasing. She hastily buried her excitement and the evil blob steadied.

The longer she laid there, the more power it stole from her, power she couldn’t contain, nor regenerate fast enough. Holding her shields in place grew increasingly difficult. Once her body depleted of power, WindWraith gained its prize.

With no time to lose, she studied the dots of light, dampening her excitement. Beneath the dead black surface, untainted crystals thrived. WindWraith must be unaware of the crystals or confident of the protections it derived from the lifeless surface. Morgan maintained her composure even though she wanted to shout in triumph.

As she scanned the walls, the beast awakened, billowing faster, bearing down upon her. Wicked power bathed her, assessed her barriers. It chipped away at her shield, using her own stolen power against her. Morgan lost her fractured calm and shrieked inside her head. She had to make a move! Hating to unleash magic the Fomorian might exploit to break down her walls, she must take the risk, or lie there to die in spirit, if not in body.

Weakening magic crawled sluggishly to her hands, formed amber balls on her open palms. She gathered an extra boost of air magic to enable the toss from her fettered position. Aiming at the crystal spots on the rugged walls, she loosed two blasts.

The fireballs hit the wall and a torrent of crashes deafened her. Ebony slivers and chunks of rock showered the cavern. WindWraith howled and lashed into a cyclonic frenzy. It increased its bashing against her weak shields, a wailing wind of voices and screeches drowning her mind. The attack upon her body, against her barriers was merciless. Coils of her magic unwound in the Fomorian’s frenzied assault. She fought to maintain her shields, as WindWraith began ripping out her magic in excruciating barbs of fire. Voiceless, agonizing screams rent her head. Oh Goddess, they were her screams! Horrendous pain flooded her, and she frantically tried to ignore the twin agonies of being burned to cinders and buried alive.

Crystals shimmered beneath the destruction on the cavern’s walls. Not enough to affect WindWraith. One more shot might drive the damned devil away.
Please, Goddess, let this work. Give me access to whatever magic I have left.

Earthy energy suddenly skated across her flesh and she seized it, drawing from the island, turning it into Druid fire and air. Magic barreled through her, balling on her palms in an almost tangible manner. She pitched two more fireballs at the vulnerable wall. Faltering, she lost a toehold on her shield. A tortured scream erupted from her, the sound drifting to a whisper toward the volcano’s peak.

WindWraith breached her barrier, a scorching evil zooming past the splinters. Fiendish, dirty power roared over and through her body in a searing swell that kept growing.