Circle of Desire (Damask Circle 3)
But he did as she bade and, after a few minutes, a sense of calm fell around him.
“Now,” she said. “Imagine there’s a well deep down in your soul. Imagine it filled with warm and eager light. Feel its welcoming caress surround your fingers, your hands, your arms, as you reach for it.?
?
Soft golden light began to dance around his fingertips, reaching upward toward his torso.
“Imagine that light surrounding you, embracing you. Feel in it every fiber, every muscle. Let it become you, and you it.”
The golden light swept up and across his body, until it encased him entirely. He was close, so close, to changing.
“Now, imagine the wolf. Welcome him into being.”
Doubt rose. She could see it in his face, feel it in the air.
“The wolf will never hurt you,” she said quickly. “Nor can it hurt anyone else unless you desire it. You control it, Ethan, not the other way around.”
Still he doubted. The magic pulsated, reflecting Ethan’s uncertainty.
“Become the wolf, Ethan,” she said softly. “Because Janie’s life might well depend on it.”
Which wasn’t a fair thing to say at this point, even if it was the truth. But it was also the one thing that might break his deadlock.
And that’s exactly what happened. The magic surged, and a few seconds later, a wolf stood before her. She smiled. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
Annoyance glittered in his brown eyes. Her smile grew. “You know, as werewolves go, you’re not bad-looking. Shall we go?”
He walked to the door. She grabbed her keys and purse, and they headed out.
* * *
“DON’T SUPPOSE YOU CAN CONTROL THAT DAMN DOG OF yours?” The sheriff’s voice was gruff and edged with frustration. “He’s starting to give the team the creeps.”
Kat grinned. Ethan—in wolf form, and complete with a bright pink scarf tied around his neck to indicate her ownership—had spent most of the afternoon following the coroner’s men around, listening and watching all that was going on.
“Believe me, that dog does exactly what he wants to do.”
“Looks too much like a wolf for my liking.” The sheriff took off his hat and wiped a hand across his bald head. “This place feels like a sauna.”
She hadn’t noticed the heat when she’d come in here earlier, but the sheriff was right. The place felt hotter than hell. Frowning, she glanced around. They were standing in the living room, surrounded by the old man’s memorabilia and lots of papers. As she stared at one stack, she noted the edges were beginning to curl up and go dark.
And it was getting hotter with every passing second.
Goose bumps raced across her skin. Only the two of them were in the house. Nearly everyone else was in the barn or searching the grounds. What better time for evil to kill a pest?
“Sheriff, I think we should leave.”
He gave her the sort of look she’d seen half her life. The look that queried sanity. “Why?”
The sense of wrongness grew, until it felt like her skin crawled with it. She grabbed his arm and pushed him toward the back door. “Because I have a very bad feeling about this heat, and my bad feelings have a habit of coming true.”
“I think—”
She never did get to know what he thought, because at that moment the house blew apart, and a fist of air lifted them off their feet and out the windows.
ETHAN CAUGHT A FAMILIAR SCENT AS HE WAS SNIFFING through the rotting pile of old straw dumped on the far side of the barn. Baby powder. He nosed around a bit more and found a footprint. A child-sized footprint. Hope surged, and he felt like howling in joy. She’d stood here, and not all that long ago.
The baby-fresh smell led away from the barn, toward the dark trees ringing the farm’s boundary. But there were other prints here—a man’s prints, if the shoe size was anything to go by. They’d led Janie away from both the barn and the house, to God knows where. But why make her walk? Why not carry her?