Chapter 4

“I see you, child—curious and desperate for truth. Don’t be afraid to walk into the darkness if you want to see beyond the shadows to the spirit world. Where once you were powerless, you will be strong. Where once you were unsure of your destiny, you will be confident. You only need to seek the truth. But remember, child, what claims to be truth may only be a reflection of the things you simply want to be true.” ~Voodoo priestess.

 

 

Elora attempted to sleep with her head propped up against the window. The dull noise from the tires on the road steadily lulled her into slumber. Sleep would be a welcome retreat from all the worry that was bouncing around inside her head. In addition to Cassie’s parent’s being missing, now they had dark-elf spies on their ass screwing up their mission to save the world. Didn’t they know it was hard enough to save the world without dark elf spies, especially when the humans they were trying to save didn’t even know they needed saving or want it? It’s like they were attempting to do the largest intervention ever. Betty Ford better get ready for an influx of patients.

She felt a large, warm hand on her thigh and lifted her head to look over at Cush who was driving their getaway vehicle. Okay, so maybe it really wasn’t a getaway vehicle since they didn’t steal it. They actually rented it with Tony’s credit card―all nice and legal like.

“How are you?” Cush’s deep voice caressed her. It wasn’t fair that he could make her want to pant from just a simple touch. She wondered if she held any similar power over him.

“One look from you, Little Raven, that’s all it takes,” she heard him in her thoughts. He had been listening in again. Maybe it should bother her, but honestly she loved the intimacy that it forged between them.

“I’m sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop and crush our Yukon,” she admitted wryly. “We’ve been driving for three hours now and nothing has happened; it makes me wonder what they’re waiting for.”

“Maybe we gave them the slip,” Oakley offered from the backseat.

“Gave them the slip?” Elora scoffed. “What are you, a half dark elf mafia member?”

“Hey, don’t hate just because I know the lingo,” he shot back.

“Oakley, I love you. But you’re a dork,” Elora snickered.

Cush squeezed her leg to get her attention. “Be nice,” he warned, though there was a playful glint in his eyes.

“Give me a break, warrior. You don’t care if I’m nice. You just don’t like my attention on someone else.” Elora shot him a look that said she totally had his number complete with the single brow raise.

“Perhaps,” he admitted as he looked back at the road. “But then I told you from the very beginning that I didn’t share well.” He glanced at her again. “Aren’t human males possessive?”

Lisa and Elora both let out similar snorts of laughter. “Human males might have at one time been possessive, but human women have squashed them like little bugs with a shoe called the feminist movement.”

“And that is?”

Elora remembered that Trik had mentioned that Cush didn’t spend much time in the human world, though he tried to keep up with the times. Maybe the 60’s and 70’s had been decades that he hadn’t bothered to keep track of. “It started out as women desiring the same rights that men had. You know―the right to vote, to run for office, to be leaders, to work and make their own money― that sort of thing. They wanted to be a man’s equal.”

Syndra shook her head interrupting. “Which wasn’t bad, at first. But some people have taken the idea to extremes.”

Cush’s eyes narrowed as he thought about what Elora had said. She could tell that he had an opinion, and she was honestly curious as to what it was.

“What are you thinking, warrior?” she finally asked.

“I can understand them wanting to be able to have the same station in life as a man and be their equal in that manner simply because they are the same species. I guess because I’m not human, maybe it’s different for me. There is no way I would ever consider Elora, my Chosen, as my equal.”

Elora’s jaw dropped and a hundred words that weren’t so nice formed on her tongue.

“Let him finish,” Syndra said before Elora could verbally vomit on him.

“She isn’t my equal because she makes me better―a better man, a better warrior. What man can boast about the ability to bring life into the world? What man can continue to love, setting aside all other negative feelings? What man can say that he understands a compassion that puts all others before himself? Elora, a woman, can bear my children, she can love me even if she loses all respect for me, and she will show compassion even to those that I would deem unworthy. She can do these things only because she is a woman and it is how she was created. The mere sight of her makes my day better and brighter. Even when she’s driving me crazy, she’s still the first thing I want to see in the morning and the last thing I want to see at night. How can someone who does those things be my equal? She is so much more than me and I esteem her as much as I love her. Does that mean she’s faultless?”

“Yes,” Elora piped in just as Cush said, “No.”

He shot her a quick smile before continuing, “No, she isn’t perfect, but she’s perfect for me. And don’t get me started on the female form,” he chuckled. “They definitely have the market when it comes to beauty in the physical sense.” Cush glanced at Elora, his eyes running over her so intensely that she could practically feel it. “In fact, I would say a woman’s body is reason enough to revere them.”

“Whoa, hey, mother in the vehicle,” Lisa called out. “You cannot say woman’s body while looking at my daughter like she’s the last beef jerky stick in any realm. It’s forbidden. So stop. Like, now.”

Elora rolled her eyes but the heat on her skin didn’t leave even after Cush was no longer admiring her physical form. The vehicle was silent. Cush’s impassioned words seemed to have rendered everyone speechless. Elora had to admit that everything he had said had taken her by surprise. She knew he cared for her, but to hear it in the way he described it was just . . . wow. She was also pretty sure he’d won some brownie points with Lisa, despite his comments about the female body and his devouring gaze. She was still looking at him, though he was once again paying attention to the road. Elora couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He felt all of those things for her. The thought hit her like a gale force wind and knocked the breath right out of her. She bit her bottom lip to hold in the gasp as she truly began to understand exactly what Cush had said. He hadn’t been talking about women in general, he had been talking about her, describing the way he saw her, and the way he felt for her. She wanted to say something to him, to respond to his admission, but not there with all the extra ears in the car. What she had to say would be for his ears only.

Darkness began to cloak the night sky like a blanket being laid across the earth, tucking her in for a much needed sleep. The last sign Elora noticed had welcomed them into the great state of Colorado. They had driven up into Kansas and then over from there, and when she’d asked Cush why he wasn’t taking the route on the GPS, he’d told her that it would be better to lead the dark elves on a little chase. She didn’t figure that chase would last very long judging by the moaning and groaning that had begun and Oakley’s constant ‘are we there yet’ questions.

Just when she was sure she was going to have to beg Cush to call it a night, he pulled into the entrance of a motel. It wasn’t anything fancy, but neither was it one of those places where bodies were hidden in one room while a one night stand took place in the room next door.

Twenty minutes later they were all dragging themselves up the stairs that lead to the two rooms Cush had acquired. Elora’s steps were heavy; her shoes felt like they’d been filled with concrete as she trudged up the last few steps finally reaching the landing. Two steps to the right and they were standing in front of rooms 24 A and 24 B, apparently a connecting suite.

“Girls in A and boys in B,” Syndra announced as the doors were unlocked and pushed open. The stale scent of cleaner and mothballs hit their faces. There were lights already on and as Elora stepped into the room she eyed the bed longingly. But she knew it would be at least a few minutes before she would get to crawl into the undoubtedly scratchy sheets. Her thoughts were confirmed when the door on the right hand wall, that obviously lead to the boy’s room, opened and in stepped Cush.

“Let’s take fifteen minutes and go over tomorrow’s plans before we call it a night,” he told them as Oakley stepped in behind him.

Elora took the corner of one of the beds and Lisa sat next to her. Syndra draped herself, as only a queen could, across the other bed and propped up on one elbow as she waited for Cush to continue. Oakley took the one and only chair leaving Cush to lean against the wall, not that he would have sat down even if another seat would have been available.

“We will make it to the city tomorrow,” Cush began. “Once there, Syndra is going to use a little influence to help keep prying eyes from noticing us, and we are going to see if we can sniff out Lorsan. I don’t think he will be hard to find. I have a feeling that now that Tony has left Iniquity Lorsan has probably taken up overseeing the casino and the distribution of Rapture.”

“What are we going to do when we find him? Declare a citizen’s arrest?” Elora asked.

Cush gave her a look that clearly told her he though she was absurd. She shrugged. It was a valid question.

“We just need to get the lay of the land, so to speak,” he answered her and then turned his attention back to the entire group. “We need to get an idea of how many elves he has at his immediate disposal. We also need to see if we can get an idea on just how extensive the Rapture situation is.”

“Do you think he’s managed to get it out of Vegas?” Oakley spoke up.

Syndra nodded. “I would actually be surprised if he hadn’t already distributed it to other venues.”

“The important thing is to disrupt the flow of the Rapture so it can’t make it to any of its destinations,” Cush explained. “Once we’ve neutralized that process we can focus on making sure the Rapture that’s already available is destroyed.”

“And how exactly will we do that?” Elora frowned.

“We could phone in a recall to the FDA letting them know that any and all production of the Rapture in circulation is contaminated and needs to be destroyed immediately. I’m sure we can manage to get some of our elves into the system to oversee the process to makes sure it is all taken care of.”

“It sounds so simple when you put it like that.” Oakley let out a sigh. “But for some reason I have a feeling that none of this is going to go according to plan.”

Cush gave him a wolfish smile. “Where would the fun in easy be?”

“You consider this fun?” Oakley’s eyes widened.

Elora let out a groan as she flopped back on the bed. “UGH, don’t get him started. He was raised to be a warrior; it’s in his blood, blah, blah, freaking blah.”

Cush chuckled. “Perhaps, hunting dark elves is an acquired taste.”

“Regardless of what it is,” Lisa said as she stood up, “it will require energy. So” ―she waved the boys off toward their room― “off with you two and let’s call it a night.”

Elora didn’t move from her prone position on the bed but she did open her eyes when she felt soft fingertips tracing her lips. Cush hovered over her looking at her as if she’d single-handedly saved the human race.

“What’s that look for?” she asked him unable to stop herself from raising her own hand up to trace his strong jaw.

His full lips lifted ever so slightly. “It’s because of you, my Chosen,” he whispered. “I’m just in awe of you.”

“Because I flop so gracefully on a bed when I’m whining about you and your, ‘I’m a warrior hear me roar’, bit?” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, that and many, many more reasons.” He leaned down as his large hand cupped her jaw. “Sleep good, Little Raven.” His lips pressed against hers but were gone much too quickly. “Sweet dreams.” His voice rumbled in her mind. She grinned up at him as he gave her lips one last gentle touch and then left the room.

“I thought I was going to have to grab the fire extinguisher.” Syndra’s voice popped the bubbled that had enveloped Elora in her own little world with Cush.

“What?” she asked as she rolled off of the bed needing to brush her teeth before she could crawl into bed and let sweet oblivion take her to a place where she would surely dream of her warrior.

“What do you mean, what?” the light elf queen snorted. “The tension between you two is drawn as tight as my best archer’s bow. Too many more times spent absorbed in each other like that and one of you is going to snap.”

“And pray tell, what will happen then?” Elora watched Syndra from the mirror where she was putting the toothpaste on her toothbrush.

“I got one word for you—rabbits.”

Syndra’s remark had Elora spitting the mouthful of toothpaste all over the mirror in front of her. “Crap,” she muttered as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grabbed one of the folded towels to wipe off the mirror.

Lisa was laughing as she pulled the comforter back on the bed she would share with Elora. “She just likes to get a reaction,” she told her daughter. “If you’d ignore her she’d eventually get bored.”

“It’s a little hard to ignore her when she’s talking about Cush and me and rabbits. Doesn’t that disturb you just a little, Lisa?”

“I’m learning to think of other things when you and your mate’s attraction is brought up, like roadkill guts and dog vomit. Those seem to really help me avoid images that some” ―she looked at Syndra― “try to suggest.”

Elora climbed into the other side of the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She tried not to hum happily as she snuggled down. “Good to know you’ve worked out a system,” she told her mom as her eyes drifted closed.

“I don’t understand what the big deal is. I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking,” Syndra muttered under her breath as she snapped her fingers, causing all of the lights to go off at the same time and plunging the room into blissful darkness.

Elora’s mind drifted in a haze on the edge of sleep as she thought about Cush. Syndra was right to a certain degree. The attraction between them was growing stronger. It was harder and harder to deny and she wondered if being in Las Vegas was going to make it even more difficult since sin city called to her dark half. It whispered to her of all the pleasures she could have if she’d only let go and give in to her desires. Even laying there in a hotel in Colorado, simply thinking of the city and all its glittering glory and promises of fulfillment had her darker half stirring. Elora truly hoped she had the strength to keep from giving in to the desires that were not necessarily good for her.

And if I’m not strong enough, I ask the Forrest Lords to please make Cush strong enough for the both of us, she thought as she finally succumbed to sleep.

 

Cassie stretched her arms above her head and then bent at the waist as she tried to loosen muscles and joints made stiff after having spent so long in the vehicle. Once they’d finally left her house, they’d driven for what seemed like forever and had finally reached the sign declaring that they’d entered Louisiana. It had been a few hours since their last gas stop, and Cassie had been asleep so she hadn’t gotten a chance to get out and give her cramped limbs a break.

The night air was muggy and warm, causing her neck to sweat despite the lack of the sun. Crickets chirped in the fields surrounding the gas station which was the only thing giving off light for as far as she could see. A wry smile tipped her lips as she realized that it was the perfect setting for a horror flick murder scene. On the tail end of that thought she jumped when large hands encircled her waist.

“Jumpy, Beautiful?” Trik’s voice trailed over her neck like warm honey.

“I was in the middle of writing a murder scene in my head that takes place at this rather nice establishment,” she said dryly and as though her heart wasn’t trying to beat its way out of her chest.

“Are we talking gory, body parts flying murder scene or something more along the lines of the quiet assassin who slits his victims’ throats before they ever know he’s around?”

Cassie turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. One eyebrow rose slowly as she narrowed her eyes. “You were supposed to say something like, ‘Don’t worry, Beautiful, I won’t let any scary boogeymen murder you.’ ”

She could tell he was trying to hide a smile when he responded. “I kind of figured it went without saying at this point. I mean” ―he pointed to himself― “dark elf assassin slash king.” Trik gave a shrug and said, “I even have a shirt that says, I’m kind of a big deal.”

That made Cassie laugh. She remembered when he had worn that shirt to her school. That seemed like years ago but it was only months. Trik saw the sudden change in her mood and pulled her tightly against him.

“Talk to me, Cass. Tell me what I can do to make this easier?” His mind was wide open to her and she could tell that he was hurting for her just as deeply as she was hurting over the capture of her parents. Cassie wished she could tell him how to fix it. He just needed to fix it, or at least that’s how he saw it in his mind. But until they got her parents out of Tarron’s hands, there wasn’t anything anyone could do to make it easier.

She was about to say she was sorry but he cut her off. “Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the fool for thinking I could somehow make this less painful. It’s been a long time since I had parents; I’ve forgotten what the attachment was like.”

Trik tilted her chin up so that she was looking up into his silver eyes. His dark hair was unbound and framed his handsome face. He was beautiful, but masculine in only the way a dark elf could be. Even though he’d given up his dark elf ways, there was still an air of danger that surrounded him. He was powerful, deadly, and yet he looked at her as though she was the first flower of Spring. “You do make it easier,” she told him.

“I should have been able to keep them safe so that you wouldn’t have to be going through this at all.”

“Trik,” Cassie sighed. “You may be the elf king, but that doesn’t make you infallible.”

“Says who?” he asked in all seriousness.

She laughed.

“We’re ready when you two are,” Tamsin called from a few feet away.

Trik took her by the hand and started leading her back to the SUV. “I did manage to do something right,” he said as she walked beside him.

“What’s that?”

“Well you haven’t been dismembered by the boogeyman, so,” he said drawing out the last word with a shrug.

Cassie squeezed his hand. “True enough, quiver boy.”

“You know you could pick a different nickname,” Trik grumbled as he opened the door for her.

“Give me something better than quiver boy,” Cassie said as she buckled her seat belt.

Before he shut the door Trik leaned in close and whispered, “I have given you plenty to work with, wife.”

Cassie knew she was blushing as he walked around the front of the vehicle to climb in the driver’s seat. She had walked right into that one.

“We’ll be there in a couple of hours,” Trik announced as he started the engine.

“What are we going to do once we get there? How will we find him?” Cassie asked.

“We won’t have to find him. He will find us,” Tamsin spoke from behind her.

Cassie glanced over her shoulder at him. She felt a shiver of unease slide down her spine.

“Why don’t I like the sound of that?” she muttered under her breath as her eyes were drawn to the darkness beyond her window. She settled back in her seat and closed her eyes. She knew she was going to need all the sleep she could get.

Rest Beautiful, she heard Trik’s voice in her mind at the same time she felt his hand wrapped around hers. Dream of all the babies you will one day give me.

She let out a choked laugh but didn’t open her eyes. You’re awfully confident.

She could feel his smugness as his thoughts intruded into hers. The Trik, pun intended, is to find what you’re good at, and then do it a lot. And baby, you are what I’m good at.

The laugh that bubbled up out of her felt good. Yes, quiver boy, you are.

 

 

 

Tarron stood just inside the small cabin door. The shack was surrounded by swamplands. Tall trees, bathed in moss, loomed over it and murky waters full of hidden predators swayed languidly around the stilts the cabin was built on. He let the night wrap around him as his form became one with the shadows.

“What do you want this girl for?” The thick Cajun accent would have been hard for most to understand but he had known the priestess for a very long time.

Tarron’s head didn’t turn when the old woman stepped from the doorway onto the porch. He heard the old rocking chair creak as she eased her worn body into it. She would wait for his answer. That was the frustrating thing about the old ones. They didn’t have anywhere to be that they hadn’t been already so they weren’t in any hurry for anything, be it conversation or action. She would wait patiently until she finally got her answer.

After several minutes of just the sounds of the swamp serenading them, Tarron finally spoke. “She is my Chosen, priestess Chamani.”

The priestess clucked her tongue at him. “Come now, we both be knowing that your lady passed on a long time ago.”

“We also both know that some souls don’t pass on, Chamani. They simply wait for their next chance.”

The rocking chair began a steady creaking as she began to rock slowly. The rhythm of the chair seemed to blend in with the sounds around them making an eerie symphony.

“This girl, she gonna be fine with being your female?”

Tarron turned to face her. His eyes narrowed on the old woman. He wasn’t trying to intimidate her. There was no point in that; she was powerful in her own right. Their magic wasn’t the same but she would be able to hold her own no matter the wrinkles that lined her leathery skin.

She let out a slow breath. “I ain’t judging boy, calm down.”

He almost laughed at the boy comment. Tarron hadn’t been a boy in a very, very long time. He couldn’t even remember a time when he didn’t shoulder the worries of a man. No, he wasn’t a boy but, perhaps, to one such as Chamani, he might still be seen as such. Tarron had no idea how old the priestess was, but he could feel the power that radiated off of her and power—that kind of power—came with age and experience.

“Why do you ask, old woman?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back against the crooked railing of the porch. He felt the wood give a little beneath him, but it didn’t break under his weight.

“Spells be tricky business. They tend to have a mind of their own if in the receiver ain’t to welcome on it. Not saying I can’t manage it.” She shrugged.

Tarron thought about Cassie’s parents who were still tied up at the old Victorian house that he’d turned into a makeshift lab. No, she wasn’t going to be fine with being his female, but she would do it to protect her parents. He’d thought about just getting her reacquainted with Rapture before deciding to come to the Voodoo priestess, but he had quickly come to the conclusion that he didn’t want a drunken Chosen by his side.

“I have something she wants to keep safe,” he told the old woman. “She will accept the magic.”

Chamani continued to rock in her chair, wrapping an old, worn shawl tight around her bony shoulders. The night wasn’t cool and yet she shivered. The priestess turned her head sharply to the left as if she’d heard something he did not. All of the color leached from her eyes and her body stilled. The white orbs stared at something that Tarron couldn’t see. As if the swamp also sensed a presence, the steady cacophony of noises around them suddenly died down, and they were left surrounded by an unnatural silence. He didn’t interrupt her, though his body tensed with the urge to know what she was seeing. There was no point in asking. She would tell him when the vision had past, or when she was good and ready.

“What you seek does not belong to you,” her voice crooned out in an accent that was not her own. The usual Cajun accent was gone, replaced by a formalness that this priestess had never known. Tarron straightened and pushed away from the rail. He didn’t step toward Chamani but shifted his body so he was directly facing her. And then he waited.

“She is pure and the light surrounds her. The darkness that owns you can never touch her. All that you want, you had at one time, but now you attempt to take that of another. If you continue down this path, the destruction that you cause will ripple across more than just one generation. Any offspring you bear with her will be that of an unsanctified union. They will have limitations that will make them vulnerable. They will be unwelcome in her world and seen as an abomination in yours. Yet, if you take what is not yours by force, one of your offspring will arise and have power that will rival the King. There will be nothing to stop him from destroying the world as you know it to be now.” The old woman paused as her head turned slowly to face Tarron. His heart was pounding like a steel drum inside his chest, and he could feel the vibrations all the way to his bones. When the milky orbs met his, he didn’t flinch away from her gaze.

“Will you continue down this path, Tarron of the dark elves? Is this your choice?” The smooth voice seemed so wrong coming out of the wrinkled and timeworn face of the priestess. And yet he knew it wasn’t the priestess that he spoke with; it was one of the Voodoo gods.

If he said yes, that this was his choice, then he would one day face the wrath of the Forest Lords for his treachery, not that he and Lorsan didn’t already have things to answer for when it came to their choices. But this, this was something else entirely and he knew it―deep, deep down he knew. Cassie was of his Chosen’s bloodline, but she belonged to Triktapic. If he took her from the king, he would be tearing apart a union that had been blessed by their creators.

“What will become of Triktapic?” he asked the priestess.

“He still has his free will. There are many paths open to him. The female is a part of him now and to remove her would be like taking his lungs and then telling his body to continue to breathe. His path might be further into the light, or it might lead him down into a darkness that even he didn’t know existed. It is not for us to say what his path will be. I ask you again. Is your choice the female that is not yours?”

“SHE IS MINE!” Tarron snarled. “She is mine. The blood of my Chosen runs through her veins. The very DNA that makes up her body is the same that made up that of the woman who should have been by my side for eternity. I am owed this!”

“You are owed only that which you have earned or that which you take,” the Voodoo lord responded.

“Then, yes,” Tarron growled. “This is the path I have chosen. She is mine and I will claim her. Survival of the fittest, isn’t that the world we live in? She belongs with the male who is strong enough to keep her.”

“So be it.” The priestess’s head fell forward and it looked as if the air had been sucked out of her like a deflated balloon. Tarron didn’t move closer to her but waited for her to recover from the brief possession.

Her head slowly rose and her eyes were once again clear. “I have been instructed to assist you, but it will cost you.”

“What do you require?”

“The blood of three generations. Your first child, your first grandchild and your first great-grandchild. Each of them must come to me at the appointed time and serve the Voodoo lords for three years. During that time, any ability they might have from your Elvin blood will be subdued until such a time as they have completed their service.”

“So I will have children with Cassie?” Tarron asked.

She didn’t answer right away and the look in her eyes had him narrowing his eyes on her. Her lips pursed as she met his gaze. “You will have heirs with your mate.” She stood and motioned for him to follow her. “Let us begin. I assume you brought me something that belongs to her?”

Tarron entered into the small shack after the priestess as he pulled the necklace he had taken from Cassie’s dresser from his pocket. “I brought you this.” He held it out to her. “It appears to have been worn quite a lot which means it was against her skin.”

Chamani took it from him and examined it closely. “It will do. I need something of yours as well. A similar object works best.”

Tarron pulled his medallion from beneath his shirt. He slipped the chain over his head and looked down at the worn crest. He hadn’t taken it off in over a century, but he figured this was the best possible reason to remove it.”

“Where did you get this?” Chamani asked him as she turned the medallion over in her hand.

“It was a gift.” He didn’t elaborate more. There was no reason for the priestess to know anything more.

“It holds powerful magic.”

When she realized he wasn’t going to respond, she shrugged and continued gathering items she deemed necessary for the spell. Tarron watched silently, his body rigid with anticipation. Was he cheating? Maybe just a bit, but hell, he was a dark elf. Surely no one expected him to be honest. Trik was no fool. He wouldn’t be waiting for Tarron to come at him in a direct attack. The dark elf assassin, now restored king, would be looking for an underhanded method. He probably even knew to look for him in Voodoo country. What he didn’t know was that he wouldn’t just take Cassie from him, but he would also make her want him. Trik would watch as Cassie fell in love with Tarron. He had first thought he would simply kill Trik, but it would be an even worst fate to have to watch his Chosen choose another.

The rumble of thunder drew his attention back to the priestess. There was a book that looked to be several centuries old opened in front of her. Next to it there was a shallow bowl that held the two necklaces and some other items and liquids that Tarron was happy not to know the origins of. Her eyes were closed and her lips moved though no sound came from them. The air around him began to churn an electric charge and it danced across his skin. He felt the magic reaching out for him like tendrils as it wrapped around him, binding itself to him. Tarron closed his eyes and leaned his head back soaking in the power of the spell. It would be much more effective if he opened himself to it.

“It is done.” The priestess’s voice had his eyes snapping open and his head lowering.

“Will she be aware that something is different?”

Chamani began to clean off the items before her. “She won’t be knowing that da spell has been cast, but she’ll feel strange. She might be thinking she is becoming ill and feel a need to go somewhere. What she don’t realize is da spell is causing her to want to seek you out. Da full effects of the spell will happen once she be seeing you. It’ll grow more powerful with contact.”

“And nothing can break it?”

“Death.”

“Her death?” Tarron frowned.

“Or yours.”