The Crossing (Immortals) (6 page)

She checked her watch, glowing faintly yellow in the
dark. It reminded her of a malevolent eye.

Five-thirteen. The sun would rise at seven twenty-five.
With sunset exactly nine hours and five minutes beyond
that. Eleven hours and seventeen minutes left until her
rendezvous. Her fingers crept to her throat, encircling the
moonstone. She'd slipped a charmed silk-platinum woven
pouch over the pendant to shield the stolen life essence,
but the knowledge of the energy at her fingertips calmed
her. At least a little. Whatever it took, she had to resaturate the stone before sunset.

Fully alert, she flicked on the car's dome light. The map
was where she'd left it, tucked safely into her pack. She extracted it carefully, unfolding it on her lap. At a casual
glance, it appeared to be what it once had been-a simple
road map of the Highlands, the kind given out at any
tourist office. A brief, whispered spell-life magic alone,
this time-turned the document into something more.

Lines of light seeped across the paper like a web spun by
a drunken spider. At irregular intervals, green dots appeared. Faerie villages. The ones she'd stolen from, at least.

Beside each village she'd scribbled notes-dates, times,
energy. The life essence calculations were fantastically
high-and those were conservative estimates of what she'd
skimmed. Highland faeries were exceedingly vibrant and
long-lived, more so the farther north they lived. Some
witches believed this was due to their proximity to the gates
of Annwyn, which were said to be located somewhere on
the north coast of Scotland east of Inverness. Artemis
didn't know if that was true, but she did know there was
nowhere else in the world where life essence was so concentrated. Which was why she'd come to Scotland. With just the right balance of life and death magic, she'd been
able to siphon the faeries' excess energy into the moonstone.

In four months, she managed to lift energy from twentyseven communities. Twenty-six, she amended. The last
one didn't count. She had to find another settlement, and
quickly. She bent her head, searching. She had four likely
locations already marked. One was close by, less than a
half hour's drive west. She'd head there first, and hope for
the best.

She made a note of the roads leading to the village, then
sighed and rubbed a kink in her shoulder. Releasing the
spell on the map, she watched the bright lines fade, leaving
only an ordinary-looking mesh of red and blue human
roads. She'd have to burn the document once she had
what she needed. Goddess only knew what havoc a vampire or demon could wreak with the information she'd
gathered.

Folding the map, she slid it back into her pack and cut
the dome light. The eastern sky was still dark, and weighted
by the threat of rain. Emerging from the backseat, she
confronted the cold, damp gloom that passed for an autumn morning in the Highlands. Drizzle spat tentatively
from leaden clouds, as if trying to decide whether an honest downpour was worth the effort.

As she reached for the driver's door handle, a wave of
light-headedness caused a momentary blankness in her vision. When had she last eaten? Yesterday morning, the
chocolate bar. Since then, nothing.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. No sleep, no food-there was
no faster way to lose her balance. She couldn't afford that.
Balance came first, before everything. Balance was the key
to her power. Abandon it, and she might as well slink
home, defeated.

She climbed into the car and pulled out onto the road,
her knuckles white on the steering wheel as she fought her American instinct to hug the right shoulder. Even after
four months in Scotland, she hadn't made peace with driving on the left side of the road. Depressing the accelerator
firmly nonetheless, she sped through one completely dark
village.

She slowed at the second town, a bit bigger, and showing signs of early morning life. Stomach cramping, she
pulled up in front of a shabby grocery store, where the
proprietor was just rolling up a metal security door. A garish plastic jack-o'-lantern hanging in the window grinned
hideously.

She bought coffee, with lots of cream and sugar, along
with a package of Walker's shortbread rounds and an apple. She ate several cookies and drank half the coffee before leaving the store. Juggling her purchases, she shoved
open the grocery door and bent her head against a sudden
spatter of rain as she hurried to her car. Which was probably why she didn't realize anyone was near until a man's
voice startled her so badly she dropped her cup.

Dark liquid spread over the pavement; the man stepped
from the shadows.

"So, love. On our way, are we? Where to next?"

Her pulse accelerated like a jackrabbit. He was tall, lean,
and blond, and had materialized from the alley running
alongside the grocery. She could just make out the shape
of a low-ride motorcycle tucked into the shadows. Hands
sunk deep in the pockets of his battered leather jacket, he
strolled into the weak light cast by a dying streetlamp. His
gaze raked her body.

Her first thought was that he was young. No more than
twenty-two, she guessed, and even that was a stretch.
Vamp? No, a vampire wouldn't risk being out this close to
sunrise. Demon? No to that as well-she could smell a demon at a hundred paces. Did he have life magic, then? He
was extremely appealing, in a raw, angular way. Carefully,
she cast her senses in his direction.

No. No life magic, either.

The tension seeped from her shoulders. A mundane human. Well. She knew how to handle mundane men. Young
ones, especially.

She met his gaze. His eyes narrowed.

He was startlingly fair. 'A day's worth of blond stubble
on his jaw was so light it hardly qualified as a shadow.
His longish hair brushed the raised collar of his jacket.
Three silver hoop earrings glinted in his left earlobe. His
shirt was a simple sea-green tee, worn over faded, ripped
jeans. A blue tattoo, reminiscent of the sea, rode high on
his left cheek. The mark cast a dangerous aura over his
features.

He moved toward her, his long legs eating up the space
between them with easy, unyielding grace. She didn't realize she was backing up until her butt hit the door of her
car. He snorted; her cheeks heated. Casually insolent, he
lounged, half sitting, half leaning, on the hood of her car.

He was very tall. He wasn't even standing erect and she
had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. An odd,
tense knot twined in her stomach. A faint Scots burr
brushed her ears.

"Where're we going, love?"

"Nowhere with you- Get off my car."

He straightened, but kept one hand planted on the sloping metal mullion where the edge of the driver's window
met the front windshield. Only a foot or so separated
them; she could see his breath turning to mist in the cold
morning air.

His eyes were green, she noticed suddenly. Startlingly so.

A shiver chased up her spine. Unconsciously, she
straightened her shoulders. His gaze flicked to her breasts,
then back to her face.

And just like that, she knew how to get rid of him. She
almost laughed at how easy it would be. But just to be nice,
before she humiliated him, she'd give him one last chance to back off. "Look, buddy, I don't know who you are, and
I don't want to. Get away from my car."

He didn't move an inch. "American," was all he said.

"Yes," she replied, annoyed. Her accent was obvious.

He shook his head, the slightest hint of a smile lifting
one corner of his lips. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I'm sure I don't know."

She set her package of shortbread and her apple on the
car roof and slipped her hand into the pocket of her army
jacket. Blondie's eyes followed the movement, but he said
nothing. Her fingers closed on her car key. She pressed the
remote, unlocking the door.

"I wouldn't try leaving, love, if I were you."

"Then it's a good thing you're not me." Her hand shot
to the door latch. She wrenched it open; he caught the upper edge and slammed it shut. His momentum brought
him flush against her, his chest pressed against her spine,
her stomach squeezed up against the car door. His breath
puffed on her neck.

Okay, now she was pissed.

"Listen," she said through clenched teeth, her hand still
on the door handle. "Get off me. Now. Before I get really,
really angry. I don't want to hurt you."

"What? You know karate?"

A jerk with a sense of humor. How lovely. "You don't
want to find out what I know," she muttered. "This is my
last warning. Go. Away."

"Ah, a bird with spunk."

His hand-the one that wasn't holding the car door
shut-slipped into her loose hair, cupping her head from
behind. He leaned in close, bathing her ear with warm,
moist breath as the cold drizzle rained over them both. "I
like spunk, love."

Enough already.

She jabbed back with her elbow-hard. At the same time, she grunted a word, punctuating her physical defense with
a quick, highly effective spell.

Death magic.

It hit right on target.

"Oof-" Her attacker stumbled back a step.

She yanked the car door open, already struggling with a
pinch of guilt, even though he was a jerk. The spell she'd
hit him with was extremely disorienting. It wouldn't hurt
him permanently, but she could've used a life-magic spell
to get rid of him. If she hadn't been so mad.

She glanced his way as she slid into the driver's seat. A
gasp escaped; her grip on the car door's inner handle froze.
He wasn't where she expected him to be: sprawled on his ass
on the sidewalk. His vivid green eyes were inches away, on
the other side of the window, snapping with fury.

He took advantage of her split second of shock to insert
his fingers between the car's window frame and roof. The
next instant, the door tore from her grip. A strong hand
imprisoned her wrist. With a distinct lack of care, he yanked
her out of the car.

She cried out and tried to jerk away, but his grip was
about as forgiving as a locked iron shackle. Stunned awareness of his superior strength pulsed up her arm. He twisted
the limb behind her back, forcing her to her knees.

"Aaahhh-" Tears sprang to her eyes. Gods, but he was
strong, and not just in the mundane sense of the word.
She'd scored a direct hit with that death-magic spell; there
was no way a normal human could have recovered so
quickly.

He had magic. Powerful magic.

Was it light or dark? She didn't know. Couldn't feel it.
He had not only magic, but an uncanny ability to shield it
more completely than anyone or anything she'd ever encountered.

He held her down with a punishing grip. Gravel bit through her fatigues and into her knees. Pain shot through
her wrist. She stared up at him, heart stuttering, her mind
frantically scrambling for a way out. A quick spell, one she
could cast without speaking, before he realized what she
was doing. It would have to be life magic; she had to speak
her death spells out loud.

She grasped at the first defense that sprang to mind. A
powerful distraction spell, particularly effective on young
males. She shifted her weight, bracing for quick movement. The words rang in her mind.

The spell shot like white light between them. As she'd
hoped, the charm hit before her captor could react, right
in the groin. He staggered back a step, an astonished expression on his handsome face. His green eyes crossed.

His grip slackened.

She shot to her feet, circling her arm to twist her wrist
out of his slackened grasp. At the same time, she kicked
hard at his knee. It was the first defense move she'd learned
in basic training, and it had never failed her.

Until now.

He just managed not to let her break free. A slight
shake of his head, and his eyes refocused, glittering and
more angry than before.

His gaze swept over her with proprietary boldness.
Shocked to the core, she felt her body respond. Her skin
tingled, as if he'd ripped off her clothes and run his hands
over her naked body. The sensation spread like lightning,
zinging sparkling darts of desire at her breasts, her stomach, between her thighs. A wave of pure, raw lust blanked
her mind.

She blinked up at him, suddenly not understanding-or
caring-who she was, where she was. Or what she'd been
thinking about, just seconds earlier.

He jerked her to her feet. Her mind numb, she went
without protest. Was she supposed to fight him? Or was
this all just a game? She couldn't remember.

He backed her against the car door. Pinning her lower
body in place with his hips, he spread her arms wide. Her
jacket hung open; his gaze took in the swell of her chest.
The distinct ridge of his arousal pressed hard and hot
against her belly.

A shudder passed through her. Suddenly, all she could
think of was how empty she felt. And how good it would
feel if he would only fill her.

Gods, this wasn't right.

She blinked up at him, through the haze of stars in her
vision. "What... what did you do to me?"

He presented her with a grim smile. "Turnabout's fair
play. Or so I've heard."

"I..." What? She hardly knew what she meant to say. It
was so hard to think straight. "I... I don't understand."

"Don't recognize your own spell, my little witch? I find
that hard to believe."

"My own-?" Understanding pierced the fog in her
brain. A flood of horror followed. "You reflected the lust
charm back at me?"

"First marks for you, love. You know, you really should
be more careful about the magic you send out into the
world." He smiled thinly. "Karma and all that."

He flexed his hips again. She closed her eyes and fought
the urge to squirm. She wanted to beg for his hand...
there. Despite his sarcasm, his reprimand rang true. Gods,
how humiliating to be caught by her own spell-and this
one in particular. Her entire body hummed with need.