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Authors: Keri Arthur
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probably risk resuming my regular shape. I called to the Aedh once more, and the magic answered swiftly, sharply, sweeping me from energy to flesh in the blink of an eye before depositing me in an ungainly heap on the polished floorboards. Which was where I stayed, gulping down air, the pain in my head sharp enough to have tears rolling down my cheeks and my stomach jumping up my throat.
A heartbeat later, energy surged around me; then arms that were warm and familiar and oh so welcome wrapped around me and drew me close. As the side of my face pressed against Azriel’s chest, I closed my eyes and listened to the steady beat of his heart, willing my own to match it. After a while, the rapid pace of my pulse began to slow, and the pain lessened.
He shifted his grip and held me at arm’s length. “Are you all right?”
I took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Surprisingly, yes.”
His gaze swept me, and his expression suggested he wasn’t exactly believing that. No surprise, given he was connected to my chi and knew the truth. “Do you know where we are?”
I half smiled. “To paraphrase Dorothy: Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
“I’m bound to say that statement makes no sense.”
“Do any of my statements ever make sense to you?” I brushed the solo tear tracking its way down my cheek with a somewhat shaky hand. I might have felt stronger changing to and from Aedh form, but the aftereffects still sucked. Big-time.
He rose and held out his hand. “On rare occasions, yes, they do.”
I snorted softly and placed my fingers in his. He hauled me up gently, but the world did a brief three-sixty around me, and it was only his grip that kept me upright.
“Damn,” I muttered, swallowing bile. “I really am going to have to eat something soon.”
“I will refrain from saying I told you so.”
“That’s mighty big of you.” I turned and studied the room. We were in what had to be the master bedroom, given it was twice the size of the other four. It was pin-neat, almost sterile, with little sign that anyone lived here. But someone surely had to—why else would the stones transport us here?
“I cannot say whether someone lives here or not,” he said. “But there is magic in this place.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t sense any when I was in Aedh form.”
“That is because the magic has some form of sensory boundary around it. It is very subtle.” He motioned toward the closet. “And comes from there.”
I studied the double doorway somewhat dubiously, then pushed my feet into motion. The closet turned out to be another room—one as big as my bedroom and filled with enough designer shoes and clothes to make even Aunt Riley’s heart sing. One side held feminine things, the other male, and in the middle stood several long, intricately carved Chinese sideboards. Now that we were close, the magic within them was easy enough to feel. It radiated from the drawers and cupboards in gentle waves, caressing my skin with an electricity that felt as dark and as dangerous as the stones in the greenhouse below.
I stopped and rubbed my arms. “Wonder what these things hold.”
“The accoutrements of a dark sorcerer, from the feel of it. I would suggest you do not attempt to view them.”
“There’s not a chance in hell of me doing that.” Even if part of me wanted to.
I swung away from the troubling source of magic, donned my gloves again, and went through the clothes, trying to find some clue as to the identity of their owners. Interestingly, all the male clothing—while exquisitely made—tended to be rather old-fashioned in design. If it weren’t for the modern labels, it would have been easy to believe they belonged to a time when breeches and waistcoats were all the rage. In fact, they were the sort of clothes Jane Austen’s men would have been perfectly at home in.
But again, there was nothing—not even a scrap of paper in pockets—to suggest that the clothes had
A heartbeat later, energy surged around me; then arms that were warm and familiar and oh so welcome wrapped around me and drew me close. As the side of my face pressed against Azriel’s chest, I closed my eyes and listened to the steady beat of his heart, willing my own to match it. After a while, the rapid pace of my pulse began to slow, and the pain lessened.
He shifted his grip and held me at arm’s length. “Are you all right?”
I took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Surprisingly, yes.”
His gaze swept me, and his expression suggested he wasn’t exactly believing that. No surprise, given he was connected to my chi and knew the truth. “Do you know where we are?”
I half smiled. “To paraphrase Dorothy: Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
“I’m bound to say that statement makes no sense.”
“Do any of my statements ever make sense to you?” I brushed the solo tear tracking its way down my cheek with a somewhat shaky hand. I might have felt stronger changing to and from Aedh form, but the aftereffects still sucked. Big-time.
He rose and held out his hand. “On rare occasions, yes, they do.”
I snorted softly and placed my fingers in his. He hauled me up gently, but the world did a brief three-sixty around me, and it was only his grip that kept me upright.
“Damn,” I muttered, swallowing bile. “I really am going to have to eat something soon.”
“I will refrain from saying I told you so.”
“That’s mighty big of you.” I turned and studied the room. We were in what had to be the master bedroom, given it was twice the size of the other four. It was pin-neat, almost sterile, with little sign that anyone lived here. But someone surely had to—why else would the stones transport us here?
“I cannot say whether someone lives here or not,” he said. “But there is magic in this place.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t sense any when I was in Aedh form.”
“That is because the magic has some form of sensory boundary around it. It is very subtle.” He motioned toward the closet. “And comes from there.”
I studied the double doorway somewhat dubiously, then pushed my feet into motion. The closet turned out to be another room—one as big as my bedroom and filled with enough designer shoes and clothes to make even Aunt Riley’s heart sing. One side held feminine things, the other male, and in the middle stood several long, intricately carved Chinese sideboards. Now that we were close, the magic within them was easy enough to feel. It radiated from the drawers and cupboards in gentle waves, caressing my skin with an electricity that felt as dark and as dangerous as the stones in the greenhouse below.
I stopped and rubbed my arms. “Wonder what these things hold.”
“The accoutrements of a dark sorcerer, from the feel of it. I would suggest you do not attempt to view them.”
“There’s not a chance in hell of me doing that.” Even if part of me wanted to.
I swung away from the troubling source of magic, donned my gloves again, and went through the clothes, trying to find some clue as to the identity of their owners. Interestingly, all the male clothing—while exquisitely made—tended to be rather old-fashioned in design. If it weren’t for the modern labels, it would have been easy to believe they belonged to a time when breeches and waistcoats were all the rage. In fact, they were the sort of clothes Jane Austen’s men would have been perfectly at home in.
But again, there was nothing—not even a scrap of paper in pockets—to suggest that the clothes had
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