Chapter Two

The Devil Card

Black Magic

SHANA WAS SO busy fretting over the mortal’s condition that she didn’t sense Lucien’s arrival. She let out a yelp when he said, “What’s going on, Shana?”

She leaped to her feet and turned to face him. When she did, she couldn’t help but shiver. Lucien was the high priest, and she respected him. There was also a part of her that was afraid of him. His shaggy, shoulder-length black hair and sharp, angular features gave him a more dangerous appearance than the average warlock. But it wasn’t his looks that made her so apprehensive. It was his eyes. They were a pale, silver blue that seemed to pierce you right down to your soul, and there was no leniency in their depths. If he ever found out what she’d done . . .

Deciding there was no sense borrowing trouble, she quickly quelled the thought and said, “I’m afraid there’s been an accident. I was riding Portent. When we came around the bend, this mortal was coming toward us on his motorcycle. He swerved to miss us and crashed. His knee is hurt and he’s unconscious, but I can’t find any physical reason for him not to wake up.”

“I see,” Lucien responded stepping to her side. As he stared down at the man, he raised his hand to the crystal hanging from a chain around his neck. When the crystal began to glow, Shana nervously rubbed her hands against her thighs. If anyone could pick up on Moira’s presence, it would be Lucien. He was a half-breed; his mother was a mortal. The interracial mix had weakened his natural powers, and he had to use the crystal to augment them. Though many considered his need for the crystal a handicap, Shana knew it made him as powerful as a full-blooded warlock. As the high priest, he also had the additional advantage of being able to draw upon the powers of the entire coven.

“What’s wrong? Is he okay?” she asked in alarm when Lucien suddenly chanted a spell, creating an energy barrier of warmth to form around the man.

“He’s suffering from shock,” Lucien answered.

“Shock?” she repeated in disbelief. “How could he be in shock? He isn’t bleeding.”

Lucien glanced toward her. “A mortal can suffer shock from extreme emotional distress, as well as bodily trauma. Since you cast a spell around him, it can’t be physical. What was so upsetting that it would cause him to lose consciousness?”

“I don’t know,” Shana said, raking a hand through her hair in bewilderment. “I told you what happened. He swerved to miss Portent and me and crashed. I managed to cast a protective spell around him, but there wasn’t enough time to cushion him completely against the fall. That’s why he injured his knee. When I got to him, he was just like he is now.”

“And you’re sure that’s all that happened?” Lucien questioned doubtfully. When Shana nodded, he frowned. “It must have been the spell-lightning that frightened him.”

Or something Moira did to him that I don’t know about, Shana thought grimly.

As she regarded the man, she gnawed anxiously on her bottom lip. For Moira to interact with him, wouldn’t he have to acknowledge her existence? Or did those rules apply only to her race?

“What?” she said, jerking her head toward Lucien when his voice penetrated her troubled musing.

“I said I’ll go get the car and take him to the hospital.”

“No!” When Lucien arched a brow at her shrill protest, she lowered her voice. “The hospital is so far away, and he isn’t seriously injured. Wouldn’t it be better if we took him to my house? I can look after him until he wakes up.”

“And then what are you going to do with him? He has a badly sprained knee, Shana. When he wakes up, he won’t be able to walk.”

“So I’ll take care of him until he can walk.”

Lucien shook his head. “We don’t know anything about him. He could be dangerous, and I can’t risk the coven’s safety by letting him stay here.”

“Lucien, he won’t be able to walk. How could he be a threat?”

He stared at her suspiciously. “What are you up to, Shana?”

“I’m not up to anything.” It wasn’t a lie. Moira was the one who was up to something. “I inadvertently caused his accident, so I feel responsible for him. I just want to make sure he’s all right.”

“If we take him to a hospital, he’ll be fine.”

Shana again raked a hand through her hair. She couldn’t tell Lucien about Moira, so what could she say that would make him agree to let the man stay? The truth, she realized, or at least a portion of it.

“Even if we take him away, he’ll be back,” she informed him. When he shot her an inquiring look, she quickly explained, “When I was checking his injuries, I briefly connected with his mind. I had a very strong psychic vision, and I learned that this mortal is meant to be my mate.”

If Lucien was surprised by her claim, he didn’t show it. Instead, he glanced from her to the mortal, and then back to her. “You’re sure? Or is this just hopeful wishing? We all know how badly you want a mortal mate so you can get out of Sanctuary.”

Shana gave him an exasperated look. “It isn’t hopeful wishing. It’s the truth. The vision I had was extremely intimate, but if you’d like me to share it with you to prove what I’m saying . . .”

She purposely let her voice trail off, praying that Lucien wouldn’t take her up on the offer. Sharing the lovemaking scene with him would be embarrassing, but he might pick up on the other scenes as well. If he realized the man might be a threat to her life, she’d have to tell him about Moira. It was bad enough that Moira was using a helpless mortal in her deadly game. Shana wasn’t about to compound the problem by putting Lucien in danger, even if he didn’t take her seriously.

She sighed in relief when Lucien said, “That won’t be necessary. I’ll take your word for it, and I’ll let him stay for now. However, I’ll have to cast a spell that will make him forget us if he leaves.”

“Why would you do that?” Shana asked, startled. She couldn’t let Lucien cast a spell over him! If he became the mortal’s spellbinder, they’d be mentally connected. And if Moira did have power over the man, she might be able to get to Lucien through that connection.

“He’s a mortal, Shana. That means he’s unpredictable, which makes his future unpredictable,” Lucien explained. “Regardless of what you saw, there is no guarantee that it will come true. I have to consider the coven’s safety, and the only way to ensure it is to spellbind him. That way, if he leaves, he won’t be a threat to us.”

“Then I’ll cast the spell.”

“No, Shana. If you cast the spell, you’ll share an emotional bond with him. I know from personal experience that that can backfire on you. It would be best for me to do it. Then, if things don’t work out between the two of you, you won’t be tied to him.”

“And if things do work out between us, there will always be a part of him tied to you,” Shana protested.

Lucien frowned. “If things work out, I’ll release him from the spell.”

“You know as well as I do that once you become someone’s spellbinder, you can never completely sever the connection between you,” she argued. “At times of intense emotion, your minds will automatically connect. I’m sorry, Lucien, but I don’t want you knowing whenever my mate and I make love or have a fight. If anyone is going to cast a spell over him, it’s going to me.”

“And what if it backfires?” Lucien challenged. “What if you fall in love with him and he walks away from you? Are you willing to spend the rest of your life alone and grieving over a lost love? Are you willing to forgo the chance to mate with someone else just so I won’t be privy to the intense moments of your personal life? That sounds like a terribly high price to pay for a little privacy, particularly when you don’t know for sure that you’ll even need that privacy.”

“Damn it, Lucien! Stop trying to intimidate me!” she cried in frustration. Everything he was saying was true and how could she argue with the truth?

“I’m not trying to intimidate you. I’m trying to make you listen to reason. We’re dealing with a mortal, and they don’t play by our rules. For that matter, they don’t play by their own rules. The only reliable thing about them is their unreliability, and that’s particularly true of men. They are ruled by ego and libido, Shana. I’m sure you can satisfy the latter. It’s the former that worries me. You’re too impulsive and headstrong. You simply don’t have the finesse required to deal with a mortal’s delicate ego.”

“How dare you say that to me!” Shana gasped in outrage. “You make me sound like a child.”

“In some ways you are a child,” Lucien responded impatiently. “You’ve spent your entire life in the coven, and you’re naive when it comes to mortals and their behavior. I just don’t want to see you ruin your life when it isn’t necessary.”

“You’re the high priest, Lucien, and as such, I vowed to give you my loyalty. I did not, however, accord you the right to make personal decisions in my life,” Shana stated, truly angry. It was exactly this type of warlock, overprotective arrogance that made her yearn to escape Sanctuary. Since she was orphaned, every warlock within the coven took it upon himself to protect her.

“Shana, I’m only trying to do what’s best for you.”

“I’m almost twenty-seven years old, Lucien, and I’m tired of being treated like I’m seven. I’m also tired of being told that I’m naive. If I am, it’s because every warlock in town is forever trying to do what’s best for me, instead of letting me make my own mistakes.”

“You may have a valid point,” he conceded. “However, this is one instance where making a mistake could be self-destructive.”

“It’s also an instance where letting you do what you consider ‘best for me’ could affect my entire life. As I said, I don’t want you privy to the intimate details between my mate and I. So, if anyone spellbinds the mortal, it will be me. If it backfires, I’ll have to live with the consequences.”

Lucien glared at her. Shana glared right back, determined to hold her ground. Her determination wavered, however, when he said, “I could alleviate this entire problem by refusing to let him stay.”

“If he leaves, I’ll leave with him,” Shana stated staunchly, even though Lucien’s threat rattled her. However, her anger was too strong to sway her from her resolve. She’d started out wanting to protect Lucien from Moira, but now she was fighting for her own autonomy. Instinct told her that if she didn’t make the stand now, she’d never be in control of her own life.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucien scoffed. “You can’t leave Sanctuary without my permission.”

“You’re wrong, Lucien. I can leave without your permission. I just can’t come back if I do.”

He gaped at her in disbelief. “You feel so strongly about the issue of privacy that you’d risk banishment over it?”

“If you were in my place, wouldn’t you?”

He stared at her for a long moment, before grudgingly admitting, “I suppose I would.”

“Then you’ll let me cast the spell?”

He glanced toward the mortal and frowned. “It’s against my better judgment.”

“I didn’t ask about your better judgment, Lucien. I asked if you were going to let me cast the spell.”

He returned his attention to her. “I suspect I’m going to regret this, but yes, you can cast it. I just hope you don’t end up regretting it, too.”

“So do I, Lucien,” she conceded, willing to acknowledge that his concerns were valid. “But if I do, it will be because of my choice, not because of yours.”

“I’ll go get the car so we can take him to your house.”

When he was gone, Shana knelt beside the mortal and muttered, “I just risked banishment for you. You had better be worth it.”

IT TOOK LUCIEN a good fifteen minutes to return with the car. By the time he arrived, Shana was worriedly pacing the edge of the road.

Before he came to a full stop, she was pulling open his door. “He’s still unconscious, Lucien, and that isn’t normal.”

As he climbed out of the car, he smiled sardonically. “Welcome to the world of mortals, Shana. Nothing about them is normal. Is there any other change in his physical condition?”

“No.”

“Then stop worrying about him. When he’s ready, he’ll wake up.”

He strode toward the man, and Shana quickly followed. “When we get him home, is there anything special I should do for him?”

“Keep him warm and give him something for the pain in his knee. That should do it,” he replied as he clutched his crystal with one hand and waved the other over the man. The energy barrier disappeared. “For now, however, you need to cast a spell to immobilize his knee. We don’t want to injure it further.”

With a nod, Shana focused her gaze on the man’s knee and began to chant. As she reached the last word, she waved her hand in a counterclockwise motion, and then flicked her fingers toward his leg. Spell-lightning flashed briefly around his knee.

“You are probably the most adept spell-caster in the coven, Shana.”

“Thank you,” Shana said, glancing toward him in surprise. It was rare for a warlock to compliment a witch’s magical skills. They considered their powers superior, and in some ways, they were. In everyday magic, however, most witches were better.

He leaned down to lift the man into his arms. Let’s get him settled. I need to get back to the festival and Ariel.”

“I’ll ride Portent home and meet you there,” Shana said, following him to the car.

Lucien put the man onto the backseat, straightened, and shut the door. “Mortals are obsessed with their cars, Shana. It seems as if everyone owns one, and they drive them everywhere. If you want to live in their world, you’re going to have to get over your fear of automobiles.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll work on that,” Shana grumbled, irritated at his reminder that she was ill-prepared for the mortal world.

By the time she and Portent arrived home, Lucien was leaning against the front bumper of the car with his arms crossed over his chest. She expected him to issue another gibe, but thankfully, he didn’t. He merely retrieved the mortal from the backseat and followed her to the house.

As she led him to the bedroom, he said, “While you go mix a potion for his pain, I’ll undress him.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Shana objected. “I can take care of him from here. As you said, you need to get back to the festival, and you really shouldn’t leave Ariel alone for too long. She is eight months pregnant.”

“I’ll get back to her as soon as he’s undressed. He’s heavy, Shana.”

Shana rolled her eyes. “Lucien I’m a witch, remember? I have the same physical strength that you do. I’m perfectly capable of undressing him.”

“I said he’s heavy.”

“Warlocks!” Shana mumbled, heading for the kitchen. “Why do they have to make everything a battle of superiority?”

Unfortunately, that was a question witches had been asking since the beginning of time. To date, not one of them had come up with the answer.

When she returned to the bedroom, Lucien had undressed the man and covered him. After she poured the small glass of herbal medicine into the man’s mouth, she turned to Lucien. “Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it.”

“Well, let’s hope you’re feeling that way in a few days,” he stated grimly. “Cast the spell over him before he wakes up, Shana. I want to make sure that when—if,” he corrected at her frown, “he leaves, he remembers nothing about his time here.”

“I’ll cast it the minute you’re gone.”

“Good. If you need any help with him, let me know.”

“I will. Now, you’d better get back.”

He nodded and walked out. As he disappeared, Shana was hit with a sudden urge to run after him and ask him to stay. But if she did that, he’d sense something was up. He’d start questioning her, and she’d probably blurt out the entire Moira fiasco.

“You got yourself into the mess, and it’s up to you to get yourself out of it,” she said, turning back to the mortal. “And the first order of business is to get this spell out of the way.”

Opening the charm bag she wore at her waist, she retrieved a small vial of amber liquid. Popping off the lid, she said, “Well, my friend, I guess it’s time for a touch of magic. Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing. You heard what Lucien said. I’m the most adept spell-caster in the coven.

“I also hope you aren’t modest,” she went on as she grabbed the edge of the sheet, “because to get the best results, I need to rub the contents of this little bottle all over your body. Well, maybe not over all of it, but a good portion of it.”

She tossed back the covers and let out an appreciative sigh as her gaze traveled from his neck to his thighs. She knew from the lovemaking vision they’d shared that he was well-built, but he had been wearing moonlight and shadows. Lamplight revealed the full extent of corded muscle and sinew.

“I’m sure glad I didn’t let Lucien cast this spell,” she told him as she sat on the edge of the bed and poured the liquid onto his smooth chest. “I have a feeling that if we do end up as mates, we’re going to have a lot of intense emotional moments. We’d have probably driven him crazy. I also think that I’d better get this over with quickly, or I’m liable to drive myself a little bit crazy.”

She fell silent as she quickly rubbed the potion over his chest and down to his hips, trying to keep her eyes from straying into intimate territory, but failing miserably. As she eyed his male endowments, she felt a small stab of desire. Quickly, she returned her gaze to his face. If he was a warlock, she’d simply connect with his mind and play out her sensual fantasies. But he wasn’t a warlock. He was a mortal with a very troubled soul.

After she finished rubbing the potion into his skin, she placed one hand over his heart and the other in the center of his forehead. Then she murmured the incantation. She felt energy shoot down her arms and enter his body, and then it returned up her arms in a warm rush.

She removed her hands and gave him a wry smile. “Well, now you’re spellbound. I sure wish you’d wake up so I could find out your name. We have a lot to talk about.”

When his only response was a soft snore she stood and tossed the covers over him. Then she carried his dirty clothes to the laundry room and put them in the washing machine. When she returned, he was still out, and she sat down in the chair next to the bed and started her vigil. A short time later, he started shifting on the bed. A quick brush against his mind confirmed that her mysterious mortal was finally waking up. Shana shot to her feet, feeling both nervous and excited. In a moment, she’d be talking with the man who was to be her mate.

AS RYAN BEGAN to surface from the blackness, he shifted his body. When he did, a sharp, tearing pain shot from his knee, causing him to groan.

“I know it hurts, but the injury isn’t too serious. Just lie still,” a woman murmured as he felt the mattress dip beside him.

He knew that voice! It was the woman from his nightmare! His eyes flew open, but everything was blurred. It took a moment for him to focus on her face. When he did, he stared at her in disbelief. In his nightmare she was no more than a shadow, and he’d never considered what she looked like. It was just as well he hadn’t, he now determined, because nothing he could have imagined would have done her justice.

Her dark brown hair hung in a silken fall to her shoulders. She had a heart-shaped face with flawless features. Her large brown eyes were framed by long, thick lashes. Suddenly she smiled at him, and he realized that she had a perfect cupid’s-bow mouth. Without a doubt, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was also a stranger. So why was she in his nightmare?

She interrupted his confused reflection with, “I’m Shana Morland, and I’m sorry that my horse and I caused you to crash. Do you remember what happened?”

Ryan frowned as the events leading up to the crash came rushing back. He recalled the nightmare and his death-defying drive along the mountain road. He remembered taking the fork, and a few minutes later, he’d come around a bend and found himself practically on top of a racing horse. He’d realized that a collision was imminent, and he’d jerked the bike toward the side of the road.

From there, everything became muddled, though he had the oddest recollection of lightning circling around him. That must have been his imagination. In order for there to be lightning, there would have had to be a storm. He definitely recalled that the sky was clear.

“I’m sure things are confusing right now. You took quite a fall,” the woman said.

His frown deepened. She was right. He had taken quite a fall. In fact, considering the speed at which he’d been traveling, he should be dead, not lying here looking at a beautiful woman.

“Where the hell am I?” he muttered, trying to sit up.

She placed a hand against his shoulder to hold him in place. “Please lie still. I’ve given you something for the pain, but it will take awhile for it to work. The less you move, the less pain you’ll have until then. And you’re in Sanctuary.”

Her use of the word “sanctuary” conjured up another memory. As he’d taken the fork in the road, he’d heard her voice whispering that he’d now found sanctuary and his journey was over. How had she been speaking to him in his mind?

“What’s your name?” she asked, again breaking into his thoughts.

“Ryan Alden,” he answered, glancing around him. He was in a fairly large room that reminded him of a castle he’d once visited in Scotland. The walls were made of stone. There was a small window positioned high on the far wall, through which he could see a star-studded sky and a full moon.

He continued his survey of the room, noting that old candle sconces had been converted to light fixtures. However, there were so few of them that they couldn’t penetrate the dark corners. The only furniture he saw was the large bed he was lying on, a rough-hewn nightstand, and an equally rough-hewn chair. The room was as strange as the woman.

Again he tried to sit up. This time she let him. As another tearing pain shot from his knee to his groin, he almost wished she hadn’t. When the covers fell to his lap, he suddenly realized he was naked beneath the covers. He wasn’t sure what upset him the most. The fact that he’d been so out of it that he hadn’t known he’d been undressed, or that there was a good possibility this woman had done the disrobing.

“Where the hell are my clothes?”

“They’re being washed.”

“Who undressed me?”

“Lucien.”

“Who’s Lucien?”

“He’s the high priest.”

“I’m in a convent?” he gasped. That would explain the strange room, but surely a woman this beautiful couldn’t be a nun!

She laughed softly. “No, you’re not in a convent. I told you, you’re in Sanctuary.”

“And what is Sanctuary?” he asked as he cautiously moved his leg. When he was hit with another wave of pain, he closed his eyes against it. He wanted to examine his knee to see what was wrong with it, but he’d have to toss back the covers. He wasn’t about to do that in front of a strange woman, and he meant that both literally and figuratively. How could she have been haunting his dreams for the past six months?

“Sanctuary’s a town in Pennsylvania,” she said. “You know, if you’d lie still, you wouldn’t be in so much pain.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say, no pain, no gain,” he muttered. “I’d appreciate it if you’d bring me my clothes.”

“As soon as they’re dry, I’ll bring them to you.”

“Just bring me my duffel bag. I have plenty of clothes in it.”

She blinked at him, as if he were suddenly speaking a foreign language. “Duffel bag?”

He released an impatient breath. “Yes, my duffel bag. It’s strapped to the back of my bike. And speaking of my bike, where is it?”

“It’s where you crashed.”

“You left it lying on the side of the road?” he exclaimed in disbelief. “What’s wrong with you, lady? That’s an expensive bike. Someone will steal it!”

“My name is Shana, not lady, and people don’t steal in Sanctuary.”

“People steal everywhere.”

“Not in Sanctuary.”

“Fine,” he snapped. “People don’t steal in Sanctuary. Just get me my clothes so I can get out of here.”

“But you can’t walk,” she objected. “Your knee is sprained. As I said, it isn’t a serious injury, but I suspect it will be several days before you can walk on it.”

Several days? That was totally unacceptable. He had to keep moving. If he didn’t, the eyes would catch up with him. He shuddered at the thought.

“I don’t have to walk,” he informed her. “All I have to do is sit. Now get my clothes. The faster I get out of here, the better.”

“How are you going to leave?”

“The same way I arrived. I’m going to get on my bike and hit the road.”

“I’m afraid you can’t do that. Your motorcycle is damaged.”

“What do you mean it’s damaged? What’s wrong with it?” he demanded, a sense of panic stirring inside him. He had to have his bike. It was the only way he could outrun the eyes.

“I don’t know the proper terminology, but I can show you,” she answered.

“Fine. Get my clothes and we’ll go.”

She shook her head. “You can’t walk, remember?”

“I’ll manage,” he snapped. “Just bring me my clothes!”

“But—”

“I don’t want to hear your buts, lady. I want to go see my bike, and I want to do it now. So go get my clothes, so we can leave.”

“We don’t need to leave,” she said impatiently. “If you insist on seeing your motorcycle, I can show it to you from here.”

Before he could respond, she placed her hands against his temples. A peculiar jolt shot through him, making him feel as if he’d been invaded. Every self-protective instinct he possessed began screaming at him to pull away from her touch, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move.

Suddenly, her eyes took on a strange glow, as if some inner power was pulsing inside her. He gulped and real fear shot through him. Who was she? What was she?

Relax, Ryan. Nothing I do will hurt you. Relax.

He was staring at her face, so he knew she wasn’t speaking. How could she talk inside his head? It simply wasn’t possible! He had to fight her. He had to get away from her. He had to . . .

Relax.

Despite his determination to escape her, he felt his body growing slack. Her eyes became so luminescent that he felt as if he were looking into a pair of headlights on high beam. Oddly, he didn’t feel blinded by the light, but drawn to it in mesmerized fascination.

Look, Ryan.

At her words, the light vanished, and he was staring down at his bike. The headlight was on, but even as he watched, he saw it grow dimmer, the life draining out of it. The front wheel and fender had been torn away. The back wheel was twisted so that it pointed skyward. The body of the bike looked as if some huge hand had tried to rip it in two. He didn’t need an insurance appraiser to tell him it was totaled.

Panic surged through him. How was he going to outrun the eyes if he didn’t have his bike?

Now you’ve found Sanctuary. Your journey is at its end.

No! That wasn’t true! If his journey had ended, he wouldn’t be alive. He’d be down there with his bike, his life draining away. Why wasn’t he down there with his bike? How was he going to outrun the eyes?

Come to me, Ryan. Let me help you.

The voice came from behind him and he spun around. The shadow-woman from his nightmare stood in the distance. She was wearing a long, black robe with a hood that covered her head. Though he couldn’t see her face, he now knew who she was. Her name was Shana, and she was offering him sanctuary. As she stretched her arms toward him, he wanted to go to her but he knew the eyes would never let him go.

The eyes aren’t here, Ryan. Come to me. Let me help you.

He glanced around him in confusion. It was true. The eyes weren’t here. Where had they gone?

Come, Ryan. I will help you, but you must hurry before it’s too late!

Her words were compelling, and he started running toward her. As he drew closer to her, a sense of unease stirred inside him. There was something wrong with her, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He slowed his step, wishing he could see her face, but it was shielded beneath the robe’s hood.

Ryan, if you want me to save you from the eyes, you must hurry! she insisted when he stopped several feet away from her.

Again, her words were compelling, filling him with an overwhelming need to rush into her arms. But as he began to take a step forward, some primitive instinct made him step back instead.

The moment he did, he recognized what was wrong with her. He couldn’t see her face, but he could see her eyes glowing from the depths of the robe’s hood. Though they had the same luminescent sheen as Shana Morland’s, there was a paradoxical quality of smothering darkness lurking beneath the surface.

Who are you? he demanded, taking another step back.

I’m Shana, and you must hurry, Ryan. Look behind you. The eyes are coming.

With a shudder, Ryan glanced over his shoulder. It was true. They were bearing down on him with such speed that in a matter of moments they would overtake him.

Ryan, please. Come to me. Let me help you!

He jerked his head back toward her. She still had her arms extended. All he had to do was go to her, and she would protect him—provide him sanctuary.

He took a step toward her. When he did, he saw a flash of triumph flare through her eyes. At that moment, he knew who she was, and a combination of fear and hatred surged through him.

He lunged for her, determined to destroy her, but just as he reached her, a voice yelled, “Ryan! Wake up!”

At the urgent order, the shadow-woman vanished and Ryan found himself staring at the woman named Shana. Her brow was contracted in a worried frown, and he knew her concern wasn’t real. She was trying to deceive him just as she had before. But he knew better, because he could now sense her evil. She would never fool him again.

Looking her in the eye, he said, “I killed you once, and I’ll do it again. You’ll never defeat me. Never.”

SHANA STARED AT Ryan in horrified disbelief, though she couldn’t decide what was more alarming. His threatening words or his face. He didn’t even look like the same man. It was as if his entire facial structure had undergone a metamorphosis.

She blinked several times in rapid succession, sure that it was just her imagination. When she again focused on him, the image hadn’t changed. His eyes were set deeper into his face and had an almost Oriental cast to their edges. His cheekbones were higher, more pronounced. His nose seemed to have lengthened and taken on a slight hook at the end. His cheeks were more hollow, his chin more pointed, and his jaw more square. Even the color of his hair had darkened. He had the same fierce looks of a warlock! What was going on?

Whatever it was, she’d better figure out a way to deal with him and fast! He was glaring at her with so much hatred that she knew it was only a matter of moments before he’d act on the emotion. She was also sure that when he did, he’d make every effort to carry out his threat to kill her.

Though her survival instincts were telling her to get away from him, she reminded herself that she was a witch and he was a mortal. Her powers would protect her against him. Reassured, she tried to probe his mind. When all she encountered was the emotional emptiness she’d experienced following his accident, she quickly pulled away. Moira had trapped her in that soulless desert once. She wasn’t about to let her do it again.

“Who are you?” she asked, deciding that talking might help her figure out what was going on.

His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “You know who I am.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t. You’re a stranger to me.”

“You still think you can fool me, don’t you? You can’t. I can recognize your evil no matter what guise you wear. You’ll never trick me again.”

“I’m not trying to trick you. I just want to know who you are. It’s only fair that I know the name of the man who wants to kill me.”

“I’m the man who will kill you,” he stated.

“If that’s true, then it won’t hurt you to tell me, will it?” she countered, shivering at his words. He’d issued them with such cold certainty.

He frowned, as though confused by her logic, and then he said, “I am Aric.”

Aric? Shana felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. That was the name of the warlock who had killed Moira and then taken his own life. He was the reason for the curse! What in the world was Moira up to?

The future is mine, and now yours will be mine.

As Moira’s familiar litany flashed through Shana’s mind, Ryan-Aric slumped back onto the pillow. Shana watched, dazed, as his features slowly returned to normal. When the transformation was over, his slack expression told her he’d lapsed back into unconsciousness. Anxiously, she tried to probe his mind, but there was nothing there. She didn’t even encounter the emotional emptiness she’d found earlier. If he hadn’t been breathing normally, she would have been convinced he was dead.

“What have you done to him, Moira?” Shana asked, leaping to her feet and propping her hands on her hips.

There was no answer, but she didn’t need one. A Tarot card magically appeared on the edge of the bed. It was The Devil, and his face was Ryan’s. Black magic was at work here.