Enchantment (2 page)

“It’s meant to be. We are meant to be.” His voice grew stronger, and she could hear the conviction in his tone.

Something wasn’t right, but weakness tugged at her mind, and she didn’t fight when he reached out and took her in his arms.

He straightened, holding her cradled across his broad chest. A sense of foreboding filled her, but strangely, by contradiction, she felt safe. No harm would come to her at this man’s hands.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He nodded toward a tall tower that grew out of the barren land. Black rock, it stretched up into the somber sky. She looked all around her. There was no color, only shades of gray. A deep longing welled up inside her for the crimson moons of home and the deep purple skies.

“What is this place?”

“This is nowhere,” he replied, and his tone was grim.

The landscape was bleak, and apart from the tower, she saw no other sign of habitation. Nothing moved, she heard no birdsong, and the ground was bare of any plants.

“Does anything live here?”

“Nothing but me. And sometimes I wonder if I live.”

“How long have you been here?”

“For a thousand years, give or take a few.” At his words, her gaze flashed from the surrounding land to his face. A thousand years? No wonder there was a hint of madness in his eyes. Was there no way out from this place? Was she destined to be trapped here for eternity? No.

There was something she needed to do. All she had to do was remember what and she would find a way out.

They were at the base of the tower now. He kicked the door open and started up the steep, curved stairway. Higher and higher, they climbed. She grew dizzy and nausea churned in her belly.

Her head was spinning by the time he carried her through an open doorway into a bedchamber. The room was circular, with a raised platform in the center, smothered in dark furs. Dull light filtered in through narrow slits in the bare stone walls.

All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Hopefully, when she awoke all would be clear. He lowered her gently onto the bed and pulled the silky furs over her body.

“My name is Callum,” he said. “Sleep now.” Closing her eyes, she allowed the darkness to take her.

~*~

When she woke, some of the fog had cleared from her head.

Callum sat on a stool by the bed, watching her. She searched her mind, but could still remember nothing.

“How long have I been here?”

“You’ve been in a fever for two days and nights. Though in truth, it’s hard to tell the difference in this place.” Out of the slit windows, she could see the same gray light filling the sky. “Does morning ever come?”

“No, nor nighttime either. It’s perpetual twilight.”

“How do you keep track of time?” He waved a hand around the room. “I mark on the walls of my tower.” The black rock was scored with countless scratches, and a frisson of unease ran through her. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere between the worlds of life and death.”

“But how did I get here? Why am I here?” Doubt flickered across his handsome face. “You’re supposed to be here. You have come to keep me company in the twilight land. You are my love returned to me.” She frowned. While she could detect a hint of truth in his words, or rather that he believed he was speaking the truth, there was a sense of falsehood to them. A memory hovered at the edge of her mind, so elusive it slipped away before she could grasp hold.“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No.”

“There is no need to eat here. No hunger, no tiredness. But I make myself eat as a way to keep up the illusion that I live.” Shayla reached out a hand and stroked his cheek, felt the warmth of living flesh beneath her fingertips. “You live.” He went still under her touch. “Do you know how long it has been since I was touched by another?” She shook her head.

“Before I came here. The last person thrust a dagger through my heart.”

“I’m sorry.” They were silent for a moment.

“I can’t stay here.”

“You can’t leave. There is no way out.”

She sat on the edge of the pale sand and watched the leaden sea pound against the rocks. Another day had passed, and a sense of urgency filled her. She was remembering more, but only background, not actual past. Her memories remained elusive—she had no clue how she had come here, what she had been doing— and the harder she tried to grasp the memories, the further they slipped away.

Almost absently, she raised her right arm and ran a finger down the tracery of blue veins just beneath the surface. She raised her wrist to her mouth and bit down, feeling the spurt of blood, tasting the metallic sweetness on her tongue.

The blood dripped to the ground, crimson against the drab surroundings. Closing her eyes, she opened her mind and began to hum under her breath. The tune came to her naturally when she didn’t fight it. After a minute, she opened her eyes. Where her blood had fallen, a crimson poppy grew out of the dead land. She stroked the softness of the petals as her mind filled with wonder.

“Witch.” She hadn’t heard the footsteps. Callum studied her, and his expression filled with awe. Crouching down on the sand, he plucked the flower and held it to his nose. “It smells of Arroway.

My Cass used to grow flowers for me.” He shook his head. “In a few hours you have created more life in this place than I have in a thousand years.” He pointed to something up in the sky. “Look.” Two crimson sickle moons were rising over the horizon, filling the colorless sky with a wash of red reflected in the turbulent sea. “You have power here,” he said.

“Enough to find us a way out?”

“Maybe there’s no need. Instead, you could turn this world into a garden, a place where we could be together.” He flashed her a smile. “Will you make me some grass? Real green grass that smells of springtime?” The wound in her wrist was nearly healed, but she squeezed and a few precious drops of blood fell to the bare ground. Closing her eyes, she blanked her mind, humming the song that filled her head.Callum gasped, and she opened her eyes to see a lawn of soft green grass covering the ground all around them. He sank to his knees, his hands burrowing themselves in the lush growth.

“Thank you.”

“Tell me what happened.” He glanced at her, his expression wary. “What happened?”

“All those years ago, with you and Casterix. How did you end up here?” He was silent for a minute, then he shrugged. “You might as well make yourself comfortable. This will take some time.” Shayla shifted so she sat on the soft grass beside him, hugged her knees to her chest, and waited for him to continue.

“Casterix was younger than me, much younger. I’d given up the idea that I would ever be chosen—most witches preferred a warlock who was of a similar power level, and at that time, I was the strongest around. Though there were a couple of younger warlocks who were close.”

“Who?” she asked, wanting to understand and hoping the facts would jolt her memory.

“Malachai and Jarrod. Jarrod was Casterix’s twin brother and showed as much potential as she did. Malachai less so, but he was more driven, more ambitious. Even back then, he had his eyes on the position as head of the Order and the ruthlessness to eliminate anyone who stood in his way.”

“Malachai—I’ve heard that name. And did you? Stand in his way?” Callum shook his head. “Not at first. In honesty, I had no interest in the Order. I hated their adherence to strict rules and rituals—I was more a ‘go with the flow’ sort of man, and they didn’t like that.”

“So what happened?”

“Casterix chose me.”

“She chose you. For what?” Shayla could feel the frown forming between her brows.

“Do you know nothing?”

“Well if I did, I’ve forgotten. So tell me. Please.”

“Back then, witches and warlocks were natural mates and the witches did the choosing. And the bond they formed was for life.” He hesitated, staring up at the sickle moons still hanging in the sky. “And it now seems that it lingers on even after death.”

“Go on.”

“The life of a witch or warlock is usually determined by their power, so like tended to attract like, and a witch would usually choose a warlock of similar power. Casterix was the strongest witch in living memory and as I said, there were only three warlocks who could possibly match her.”

“You, Malachai, and her brother.”

“Yes. And her brother was obviously not an option. The Order was pressing her to choose Malachai. They wanted to keep her powers in their control. But choosing is not something you can direct, there’s magic involved, moon magic, and she hated Malachai. They had grown up together, he and Jarrod were friends, but she had never liked him—he was not a lover of women and didn’t attempt to hide that fact.” He smiled. “He tried to tell Cass it was her duty to choose him—she laughed in his face.”

“What was he like?”

“Even back then there was a darkness to him, he hid it well, but I could see it lurking behind his eyes. But it wouldn’t have mattered if she hadn’t hated him. She’d taken one look at me and it was over. Her very first words to me were—I choose you.”

“And you—did you feel the same?”

“It was love at first sight. I was two hundred years old, and I thought I would never be chosen, and just like that, it was done.

We kept it secret for a while, but they were pushing her to choose.

The mark appeared on her cheek.” He reached out and pressed his fingertip to the sickle moon that marred Shayla’s own cheek, and a tingle of magic ran through her. “They knew she was even more powerful than they’d thought, and they were afraid.

“Cass defied them all. We held the choosing ceremony and never thought they would dare do anything, but they waited until she was away, and they came for me at night and killed me.” Shock ran through her. “You were dead?” He nodded. “I was gone, crossed over. I don’t know what happened, but I presume Cass attempted some sort of spell to draw me back. But she failed, and I only came so far. I woke here in a land of nothingness. Slowly I started to form a world. I forged myself a staff and gradually the spells came back to me, though my magic was weak.” He lifted the staff, which lay at his side.

“Pretty useless.” It was a frail thing, insubstantial, fashioned from shadows.

Shayla knew a warlock needed his staff. Perhaps she could do something to repay his kindness. Squeezing out another drop of blood, she opened her mind, and a song filled her throat, spilling from her lips. At her feet, a small tree sprang up. Rowan—the tree of power.

“For a new staff,” she murmured.

She hummed beneath her breath, and as they watched, the tree grew, the branches spreading a canopy above their heads. A sense of peace infused her being—how could anyone believe this was wrong? They sat in silence for long minutes, while she thought over his story.

“So you’ve been here alone for a thousand years?” He dragged his gaze from the tree. “I have, but now you have come back to me.” Shayla examined his face. His beautiful eyes were calm; the madness that had filled them in the first few days here had vanished. Did he really believe she was Casterix, returned to him? Could it be true? She searched her mind but hit that same blank wall. She tried to open herself to the truth, but after a minute, she groaned in frustration.

“I remember nothing.” Though it wasn’t entirely true. She could picture the skies above Arroway, but couldn’t remember a time she had stood beneath them. She knew the Order existed but as an abstract not as something which had ever effected her.

Who was she? It couldn’t be mere coincidence that she was here with this man. She didn’t believe in coincidence, and she bore the mark of his lost love. His lost love who had once nearly destroyed the whole world and then vanished.

Wait. He hadn’t told her that. How did she know? Was the past coming back to her? “Callum, did you know who you were and what had happened when you awoke here?”

“No. When I first came to, I remembered nothing. It was years before the memories trickled back. Years of wandering in nothingness.” She didn’t have years. A sense of urgency tugged at her, and it drove her wild that she couldn’t remember why. She ran a hand through her long hair, pressing her scalp trying to force herself to remember. Finally, she gave up and glanced across at where Callum sat on the swath of grass, his fingers stroking the fronds. He glanced up and caught her gaze.

“Do you really believe I’m Casterix returned to you?” she asked.

She thought he would answer immediately. Instead, he studied her, his head tilted to one side, for long minutes. “You have no look of Casterix—she was tall and slender, with dark hair; she had the look of a warrior woman.”

“And I don’t?” She sounded miffed, but she’d always hated the idea that she was so small. Another memory. Her mind was coming back to her, just not quickly enough.

“No. But you do have a look of Jarrod about you.”

“Casterix’s brother?”

“Yes—her twin. He had dark red hair and green eyes like yours.”

“So maybe I’m descended from their line.”

“Perhaps.”

~*~

She was dreaming. Of a man’s hands and a man’s mouth moving over her body, scattering kisses over her breasts and belly. Moving lower, tasting her skin so her muscles contracted in anticipation. Then the long, velvet stroke of his tongue probing her sex, lapping at the tight, swollen bud between her thighs. She wrapped her fingers in his long, dark hair and pulled him to her.

She woke to find Callum leaning over her. The faint touch of his mouth lingered against her cheek, and she knew he had kissed her awake. Her body still tingled with the memory of her dream.

“Have I slept long?”

“Hours.” He handed her a steaming mug, and she sipped the hot drink. She felt no hunger or thirst in this place but the drink was comforting, and gave her a feeling of normality.

“I thought we would try the mirror, see if you can direct the visions, and see what is going on in the world.” Callum had a theory that the mirror might somehow be used as a portal to the outside world. Now, she followed him down the narrow staircase, out of the tower, and to the edge of the sea.

Dropping to her knees beside the mirror, she stared down into the polished silver. Nothing stirred, and all she saw was her own reflection. She plucked the pin from her cloak and held it to her thumb, but hesitated. “Did Casterix use her blood for casting spells?” she asked. “Is it normal?”