Read Online Bound by Light by Anna Windsor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anna Windsor
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Merilee thought she felt a dark, angry wave of surprise, followed by resignation.
The horrible touch dug into Merilee’s being once more, fleeting, but scraping against the center of her existence. She tried to twist away from it, tried to cry out. Couldn’t. Her hands shook. Her grip on the bow faltered. She couldn’t breathe at all. Panic surged through her body even as the touch sucked away her energy, her essence. Her hands—where were her hands? Her feet?
Darkness.
I’m suffocating!
And the screaming of the Keres came back, this time definitely gleeful. Almost rabid. Starving.
"Merilee."
The new sound stabbed at the blackness around her. Familiar. Jake’s voice. It was, wasn’t it?
A sliver of hope arced through the fog of misery threatening to crush her to death.
The touch flickered and withdrew.
Images of the Stone Man faded as the dark energy moved away. Black to gray. Gray to white. The horrifying image blew into hazy fog, separated, and vanished.
With a wild pull on her air energy, Merilee reached for the sound of Jake’s voice and managed to get a breath. Her awareness searched for Jake’s presence, for reality.
His voice came again, more forceful. "Merilee. Open your eyes."
Were they closed?
Fuck. She didn’t remember closing her eyes. Her teeth chattered, and she was so cold her fingers and toes ached. Damn, but she needed a long, hot shower to thaw out, cleanse herself, and figure out what the hell was happening.
When she opened her eyes, she realized she was standing in the entryway of Charlotte Heart’s house, hands pressed against the sides of her head. Her bow and arrow lay useless on the wood floor in front of her. She was shaking all over and coughing. Jake had his gun holstered and his palm on her back, and he was speaking to her in low tones.
"Breathe. Again."
Merilee focused on the flow of his words and the warmth of his touch, and she did as he suggested, collecting a lungful of acidic, coppery air. Blood and . . . wormwood? Yes. Someone had burned a lot of it. Absinthe was for serious elemental protection, and only a few practitioners were strong enough to contain its energy and focus it for a purpose. It was probably responsible for that stubborn power Merilee had felt blending with her own to drive back—whatever that threat had been.
Remnants of her vision tugged at her consciousness, but the dark energy had evaporated with the image of the Stone Man from her nightmares.
What the hell was he?
And what did he have to do with Charlotte Heart and whatever happened in this house?
Merilee’s heartbeat eased back to normal as the room shifted into focus. A small space, lit by a single overhead fixture, crowded with silent people, staring at her and Jake. Twelve men and women. No, thirteen—the thirteenth was down. A woman with long, unruly red hair.
"Charlotte," Merilee whispered, but even as the name left her lips, she knew the pagan priestess was dead. Merilee’s stomach tightened, and tears muddled her perceptions all over again. No air moved over Charlotte’s body, and the priestess’s normally pale skin was chalk white and streaked with blood from deep gashes running the length of both arms. From her body emanated a thick wave of elemental protection, touching everyone in the room, infusing them with the temporary power of Charlotte’s lingering will and life force—the rest of the formidable protective power that had saved Merilee from the Stone Man. She recognized it and honored it immediately, though the cost of it seemed almost unbearable.
Charlotte’s coven moved to surround her in a ring, heads down. Many of them started crying. Merilee remembered hearing sobs before, too—probably theirs—while she was confused.
No. Not confused. Under attack.
From somewhere in the distance, sirens droned.
Merilee shivered even though the icy chill from that unearthly psychic touch was pushing its way out of her body. She grabbed her bow and arrow and let
Merilee thought she felt a dark, angry wave of surprise, followed by resignation.
The horrible touch dug into Merilee’s being once more, fleeting, but scraping against the center of her existence. She tried to twist away from it, tried to cry out. Couldn’t. Her hands shook. Her grip on the bow faltered. She couldn’t breathe at all. Panic surged through her body even as the touch sucked away her energy, her essence. Her hands—where were her hands? Her feet?
Darkness.
I’m suffocating!
And the screaming of the Keres came back, this time definitely gleeful. Almost rabid. Starving.
"Merilee."
The new sound stabbed at the blackness around her. Familiar. Jake’s voice. It was, wasn’t it?
A sliver of hope arced through the fog of misery threatening to crush her to death.
The touch flickered and withdrew.
Images of the Stone Man faded as the dark energy moved away. Black to gray. Gray to white. The horrifying image blew into hazy fog, separated, and vanished.
With a wild pull on her air energy, Merilee reached for the sound of Jake’s voice and managed to get a breath. Her awareness searched for Jake’s presence, for reality.
His voice came again, more forceful. "Merilee. Open your eyes."
Were they closed?
Fuck. She didn’t remember closing her eyes. Her teeth chattered, and she was so cold her fingers and toes ached. Damn, but she needed a long, hot shower to thaw out, cleanse herself, and figure out what the hell was happening.
When she opened her eyes, she realized she was standing in the entryway of Charlotte Heart’s house, hands pressed against the sides of her head. Her bow and arrow lay useless on the wood floor in front of her. She was shaking all over and coughing. Jake had his gun holstered and his palm on her back, and he was speaking to her in low tones.
"Breathe. Again."
Merilee focused on the flow of his words and the warmth of his touch, and she did as he suggested, collecting a lungful of acidic, coppery air. Blood and . . . wormwood? Yes. Someone had burned a lot of it. Absinthe was for serious elemental protection, and only a few practitioners were strong enough to contain its energy and focus it for a purpose. It was probably responsible for that stubborn power Merilee had felt blending with her own to drive back—whatever that threat had been.
Remnants of her vision tugged at her consciousness, but the dark energy had evaporated with the image of the Stone Man from her nightmares.
What the hell was he?
And what did he have to do with Charlotte Heart and whatever happened in this house?
Merilee’s heartbeat eased back to normal as the room shifted into focus. A small space, lit by a single overhead fixture, crowded with silent people, staring at her and Jake. Twelve men and women. No, thirteen—the thirteenth was down. A woman with long, unruly red hair.
"Charlotte," Merilee whispered, but even as the name left her lips, she knew the pagan priestess was dead. Merilee’s stomach tightened, and tears muddled her perceptions all over again. No air moved over Charlotte’s body, and the priestess’s normally pale skin was chalk white and streaked with blood from deep gashes running the length of both arms. From her body emanated a thick wave of elemental protection, touching everyone in the room, infusing them with the temporary power of Charlotte’s lingering will and life force—the rest of the formidable protective power that had saved Merilee from the Stone Man. She recognized it and honored it immediately, though the cost of it seemed almost unbearable.
Charlotte’s coven moved to surround her in a ring, heads down. Many of them started crying. Merilee remembered hearing sobs before, too—probably theirs—while she was confused.
No. Not confused. Under attack.
From somewhere in the distance, sirens droned.
Merilee shivered even though the icy chill from that unearthly psychic touch was pushing its way out of her body. She grabbed her bow and arrow and let
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