Read Online Magic Binds by Ilona Andrews - Free Book Online Page B

important meeting in a happy little meadow or an orchard.
    I ducked through the opening and closed my eyes for a few moments to get them accustomed to the gloom. A small cave lay before me, almost perfectly round. A pool of water filled most of it, except for a narrow rim of dark boulders by the walls and a small wooden deck with some benches. Above us, the dome of the cave split and a waterfall cascaded into the pool, backlit by sunshine.
    The older witches arranged themselves on the deck. I picked my way toward them, Roman behind me.
    Sienna waded into the water. It came up to her hips and her white tunic floated around her.
    She shivered and rubbed her arms. “Cold.”
    â€œYou wanted to do this,” Maria told her.
    â€œI did.” Sienna reached for a dark object floating in the water and pulled it to her. A wooden bucket. She dipped it into the water and poured it over her head. “Oh Goddess.”
    â€œIs the turtle sick?” I asked to needle them.
    Maria gave me a look sharp enough to draw blood. “Hold your tongue, evil spawn.”
    There’s the old harpy I know. All is right with the world.
    â€œThis is a sacred place now,” Evdokia told me. “It’s easier to summon the visions here.”
    â€œI’ve been looking into your future.” Sienna moved toward the waterfall.
    â€œI don’t want to know.” I didn’t. Once you knew the visions, they chained you, forcing you down a predetermined path. It was best to make my own road.
    â€œYou do.” Sienna turned to me, her back to the cascade.
    I sighed.
    â€œTell her,” Maria snapped.
    â€œIf you marry Curran Lennart, he will die.”
    Someone reached through my chest and stuck a long needle into my heart. Sienna was almost never wrong.
    â€œShow me.”
    The young witch stepped backward into the waterfall. Magic moved around Sienna, like an engine turning over, and a light slowly appeared to the left of the waterfall, opening up like a fast-blooming flower. A battlefield. Bodies collided, some armored, some furry. Weapons clashed, arrows hit home with the shrill whistle of torn air, and magic boiled flesh. A din hung above the chaos, the kind of cacophony only a battlefield in the middle of a melee can produce: screams and wails, grunts, metal screeching against metal, shapeshifters snarling, inhuman shrieks, all blending into an overwhelming cry that was the voice of war. It hit me, visceral and raw, and suddenly I was there, in the heart of the chaos, gripping my sword and looking for a target. The air smelled of blood and smoke. Ashes swirled around the combatants.
    Beyond it all a tower rose above a castle, the familiar half-finished structure I had seen this morning, now whole. A huge gray creature, half-man, half-beast, knocked vampire bodies aside as he charged toward it. Blood stained his fur. He didn’t roar. He just ran, pushing his body to the limit.
    Curran.
    The tower loomed. My father stood atop it in a crimson robe, holding a spear made from his blood. My heart skipped a beat.
    Curran leapt, channeling all of his speed into a powerful jump. He shot up, finally snarling, his fangs exposed, claws out.
    My father thrust the spear. It was an expert thrust. It punched through Curran’s chest.
    Blood poured.
    He didn’t grip the spear. He didn’t try to free himself. Why wasn’t he trying to free himself? I’d seen him take wounds that almost cut him in half. Why wasn’t he fighting?
    Curran’s body collapsed into human form but instead of its normal color, his skin turned the dull gray of duct tape.
    Oh dear God. The Lyc-V saturating his body had died. All of it. At once.
    My father gripped the spear and turned it. The perspective of the vision shifted and I was right there, standing next to Roland. Curran’s face was slack, his eyes empty. The ground disappeared from under my feet and I fell down into a cold pit. I fell and fell and