Circle of Fire (Damask Circle 1)

Eleanor reached out, grabbing Maddie by the arm. Clawlike fingers tore into her flesh as the mist near the door began to curl lazily toward them.

Terror slammed past the fear and sliced through Maddie’s heart. She couldn’t let Eleanor take her anywhere. Couldn’t let herself be used as bait to trap Jon. With a silent scream of denial, she stared at the hand holding her so tightly and let loose her fire.

Eleanor’s flesh burst into flame, and Maddie’s skin shriveled away from its touch. Eleanor screamed—a high-pitched sound of anger and pain. The mist responded to the noise, weaving and pulsing in frantic haste around the flames scorching Eleanor’s fingers and arm. When it curled away, the flames were gone.

“You will pay for this,” Eleanor hissed, holding up a blackened hand for Maddie to see. It looked like a twisted, broken paw.

Then the mist eddied again, and the ice holding Maddie immobile seemed to spread, splintering through her soul. Pain erupted through her body and she screamed. But the only sound she heard was the sharp note of Eleanor’s laughter as the darkness encased them both and swept them away.

“MADDIE?”

His question seemed to echo across the lonely silence. Jon sat upright in bed, heart pounding unevenly as he stared at the light filtering under the bathroom door.

“Maddie, are you okay?”

There was no answer to his question, and every instinct told him something was horribly wrong. He threw the blankets aside and ran across to the bathroom, flinging open the door.

The room empty. And hot. He frowned, took a quick glance behind the door, then walked to the window. It was latched, and the cobwebs he’d noticed earlier still trailed across the corners, indicating it had not been opened.

He swung around and moved back into the bedroom. Where the hell was she? For one brief, horrible instant he thought she’d left him, had gone from his life without saying good-bye. Then he saw her canvas overnight bag, still on the chair where she’d flung it. The sick tension in his gut increased.

Eleanor had her. He was certain of that much, if nothing else. Somehow, the witch had crept into the room and spirited Maddie away. Or the sylphs had.

But if the sylphs had appeared, he would have felt their presence. As an empath, he was not only sensitive to emotions, but to the vibration or frequency of life itself—and that meant being able to sense changes undetectable to the naked eye or the five senses.

But he should have felt Maddie’s fear, too.

Then he remembered Evan saying something about heat, and a misty figure. It wasn’t the sylphs who’d snatched her, but rather Eleanor using magic.

He swore and stalked across to the clothes he’d left lying on the floor. Something burned up his leg as he pulled on his jeans. With another curse, he dug his hand into his pocket. The ring he’d taken from Hank was burning hot. He dropped it quickly on the bed and stepped back.

Smoke curled up from the gleaming red eyes of the panther, gradually forming a wraithlike image of Eleanor. But it was an Eleanor who suddenly looked haggard and old—and very desperate.

“I have your woman, shapeshifter.”

Despite her appearance, Eleanor’s voice was still smooth and warm. He wondered how much magic she was using to keep it that way. Wondered how seriously Maddie had been hurt. “Maddie’s not my woman, witch. Do what you want with her.”

Eleanor’s laughter was high and inhuman. “Lie to yourself if you wish, but please refrain from doing so to me. And I prefer to be called a sorcerer, not witch. So, shall we talk terms?”

He clenched his fists and somehow resisted the temptation to shatter the wraith’s smug face. “I’ll talk no terms with the likes of you.”

Eleanor sighed. “This denial of yours is becoming tedious. I think I’ll leave.”

The mist wavered, losing shape. Fear for Maddie cut deeper into his gut. He had no doubt he could find her. His spirit was now linked so closely to hers, he only had to fly around until her soul cried out to him. But he wouldn’t find her quickly enough to prevent Eleanor from taking some form of revenge.

“No!” he said quickly, then cursed himself for a fool when he saw the flash of amusement in the wraith’s dark eyes. “What do you want?”

“I want the boy,” Eleanor spat. “And I want him before the night is over. Or you’ll not see your woman again, shapeshifter.”

He stared at Eleanor and saw only death. If he or Maddie escaped from this mess alive, it would be something of a miracle. “The boy has left with his parents. I have no idea where they’ve gone.”

“Then you had best hurry and find out, hadn’t you? Dawn is only two hours away.”

Two hours in whi

ch to find the proverbial needle in a haystack. “And when I find him?”

“Take my ring with you. My mark is still on the child, and the ring will tell me when you have found him. I will contact you then to make the exchange.”