The only way that wasn’t closed off to him was the path back to the village. Not only that, the bark on the trees was dangerous. He shook his head. Normally a boundary spell would come with a warning—two would be fair and polite. Traditionally boundary spells were meant to warn people off a private zone, not go so far as to actually physically injure anyone. Of course, that was assuming the magic was being used by a coven with a conscience, which this one was bereft of.
They didn’t want him in there, which meant Zoë was in there. Cain had done his best to unravel what was between him and Zoë over the course of the day, and he’d now whisked Zoë away.
Grayson put his hands on his hips as he looked up at the trees. There was no moonlight shining through the boundary area, but neither could he see a full canopy of leaves overhead. It was rather like a stage set.
“Tacky,” he commented, his hopes lifting. This boundary spell had been cast shoddily. No surprise there. Stepping back along the path he’d come along, he ducked down and picked up some stones. Aiming one at the top of the trees he threw it. It bounced back at him. He threw one a little higher and heard it plop down on the other side. There was no guarantee the trees wouldn’t close in on him again if he managed to surmount the obstacle, but he had to give a try.
; With apologies to the forest, he pointed up at a pine several feet behind him, and—whispering the ancient Celtic words—requested the tree aid him. The tree split at the base and, with a loud cracking sound, it fell, landing on top of the boundary. Testing the trunk, he clambered on to it. By the time he’d climbed up his arms were scratched and stinging, but he could see fire flickering on the clearing in the forest that lay ahead, and smoke rising into the night sky, shadow on shadow. It urged him on and pretty soon he was on top of the boundary wall.
Darkness yawned open below him on the other side. He couldn’t be sure this was not a trap, but he could see the gathering up ahead and he had to find Zoë. Ready to scramble, he jumped down into the darkness. Mercifully, he hit rough ground.
Rolling free from the fall, he squatted, staying low and catching his breath. He heard voices up ahead. The moon shone through brighter here on this side of the boundary, and he could see that he was back on the path. Stealth was on his side now, but time might not be, and he hurried on.
The smell of woodsmoke filled the air and he could see the flames between the trees. They were performing a ritual up at the clearing, a spot that had been used for such practices for centuries gone by. Following the flickering flames he hunted them down, darting swiftly through the trees.
Figures moved in a circle around the fire. Cain Davot’s coven. Craning his neck to see what was going on, he cursed low under his breath when he saw Zoë. The sight of her hit him like a fist to his gut.
Flames licked along the ground in a perfect circle some six feet across around where she stood. Davot’s coven surrounded it, hands linked. Cain was chanting loudly.
Anger powered through him, the blood in his temples pounding. If anything happened to Zoë he would never forgive himself. If only he had explained the situation better, she wouldn’t be here now. She seemed not to be afraid, as if unaware of the ring of fire, and he saw that her eyes were glazed and trancelike, her hands roving over her body in a slow, erotic dance of desire.
He recognized familiar faces amongst the coven. Along with Elspeth and Crawford, he saw Daphne and Isla, and two older women from the village. A couple of the waiters from the Tide Inn were also present. He’d never known exactly who it was that made up the full quorum until now.
The spell that was being chanted was unfamiliar, but he picked up words and meaning here and there. He suspected that it was magic from the forbidden book. They were beckoning to Zoë, keying into the deepest part of her as if trying to draw something out. What was it?
The slinky white dress she wore was torn, her bra strap down and one of her breasts was bared. Her beautiful body moved rhythmically through instinct, seduced by their spell and yet innately sensuous. In the firelight she looked like a captured goddess to him.
That’s when he heard it, Annabel McGraw’s name.
The information processed quickly.
Necromancy and possession? Shit.
Pure, undiluted rage powered through him as everything fell into place, his hands fisting at his sides. He had encouraged Zoë to stay here in Carbrey; this was his fault. He was furious with himself for not having seen this coming, for not realizing that Cain Davot was behind Annabel’s increasing presence. He’d been blind, betrayed by his own instincts, and now he had to make that right. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his deepest energies and began to chant the ancient words, calling upon the elements.
Anger built inside him, threatening to trip him up. His enchantment remained incomplete. Leveling himself, he stretched his arms and looked up to the sky, and chanted again. Closing his eyes, he visualized the electricity in the atmosphere and turned it into something much larger, a storm so immense that it would crack the sky open.
Thunder rolled overhead and a massive strike of lightning lit up the treetops. One of the coven members screamed.
Grayson breathed deep into his lungs and harkened the unruliest winds from the north, the iciest sleet. As the storm built and unfolded, he hunkered closer to the earth, moving over the ground stealthily, watching as the circle broke and split into clusters.
Gale force winds crashed through the trees, making the flames flicker wildly and sending the small crowd this way and that.
“What foreign spell is this?” Davot shouted.
The annoyance in his voice fuelled Grayson and he chanted again, wielding the elements at his command. Davot’s hair was blowing across his face as he glared into the undergrowth, looking for his challenger, his body physically buffeted from side to side by the wind as he did so.
Lightning struck close by, right at the edge of the clearing. A hefty branch split, peeled away from its tree overhead and fell across the clearing. When the branch hit the ring of fire the leaves lit, flames shooting high and wild. Two members of the coven scattered into the trees. Grayson heard one of them scream, and knew that they had fallen.
“This isn’t right, Cain,” Daphne shouted out, her words lifted by the wind. “Something’s gone wrong. This is too dangerous.”
Davot yelled back at her, “Hold your tongue!”
Daphne shook her head and turned away from him. At the same time, the sky opened and torrents of icy cold rain lashed down on them. The circle of fire that locked Zoë to the spot was quickly extinguished. The flaming branch troubled a bit longer, before dampening down as well.
Zoë had reacted physically. The trance had been broken. Her arms were clutched against her chest for protection against the rain, and she was peering up at the sky. Fear filled her expression, making Grayson ever-more determined. He had to get her out, now.