Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night

13

When Mari woke again, she squinted her eyes. She was in a cave? Yes, and Cade was just before her, putting wood on a new fire, his sword lying within easy reach.

She frowned to find he was shirtless, until she realized her head was on his bunched-up shirt. When the flames grew, shadows began to creep up the dusky walls. The light glinted off the wide gold band on his huge bicep and burnished his proud horns.

Mari had always found a demon's horns so pleasing. There were worse sights to wake up to.

As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned and gave her a grin. "Remind me not to piss you off, witch," he said, repeating his words from the first night in the tomb.

Hild, Tierney, and Tera entered then, their arms laden with green bananas and another kind of small, round fruit that smelled like melon.

"Look who's awake," Tera said, pushing her nut brown hair from her face. It was as matted and tangled as Mari knew hers was.

Though the others were obviously strung out with exhaustion and hunger, they were typical immortals, shrugging off the past and looking forward, gamely getting back to their lives.

Would Mari ever possess that talent? She felt like she'd been caught in a twister and left spinning. "What happened?"

"You blew up the tomb, got snatched by the werewolf, then healed yourself," Tera answered.

Healed? Her injuries were gone, the dizziness and exhaustion she'd suffered for weeks... faded. She slowly eased herself up to sit against a dank wall. From tomb to cave she'd gone. And she now had to tick off ten hours till dawn before she could see the sun again.

She hugged her knees to her chest and tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. All she knew was that too much had.

Questions hammered at her. How had she blown up the entire tomb? Yes, demolition seemed to be her specialty, but the structure had been the size of a small stadium. Never before had she unleashed that kind of power.

She also contemplated if she would have continued killing MacRieve if Rydstrom hadn't stopped her. And did she want to try killing MacRieve a little again?

As she lifted a hand to her face and patted for injuries, she wondered how she had been completely restored from the damage over the last weeks. "Are you sure I healed myself?"

Tera nodded. "MacRieve said these vines covered you and that you were mended within them."

"Vines?"

"It all seemed very... Wicca-earthy."

Mari had never been able to heal herself before. She couldn't even rid herself of a hangover with four Advil and a prepaid magick wand.

Of course, she hadn't been able to see into the future before either. Yet just before dusk, she'd woken from a dead sleep, and somehow she'd known she had to get down. She'd finally taken that swan dive, because she'd known MacRieve had returned at last. But how?

"Where's MacRieve now?"

Cade answered, "Rydstrom's questioning him."

"Did you catch the look in the Lykae's eyes when she had him pinned?" Tierney said around bites of fruit. "He'd known she was going to kill him." He frowned at Mari. "It's hard to see you now and think you're the one that destroyed the tomb." Like the others, Tierney was regarding her as if she was a curiosity—with a mix of admiration and wariness. "You weren't kidding when you said you blow things up, were you?"

"Leave her alone." Tera sat beside Mari and stroked her tangled hair. "Can't you tell Mariketa's shell-shocked?"

Shell-shocked, confused, and disgusted by how filthy she was. She could smell the incubi on her and knew she reeked even after being doused in the pouring rain. She was also wondering what the plan was now—

MacRieve and Rydstrom entered the cave. Everyone but Mari scrambled to their feet.

"What the hell is he doing in here?" Cade demanded, his hand shooting to his sword hilt.

"Cade, I'll talk with you outside," Rydstrom said, his tone brooking no argument. So kingly. "All of you. I've news I want to discuss."

Tera cast a scathing expression in MacRieve's direction. "And MacRieve?"

"Leave him."

"What if the Lykae tries something with Mariketa?" Tierney asked.

Without looking up, Mari answered in a soft tone, "If the Lykae tries something with Mariketa, she'll finish what she started before."

Rydstrom raised his eyebrows at that, then turned for the cave entrance. The others reluctantly followed.

Alone with her, MacRieve paced, glancing at her repeatedly and muttering in Gaelic. She understood a bit of the language—her mother was a druid, after all—and knew enough curse words and the term for witch to pick up the general thrust of his thoughts.

Over MacRieve's muttering, she could hear the others' conversation outside. Rydstrom began by explaining what would happen if Mari didn't call her coven before the full moon and how MacRieve had been handed the task of escorting her back.

The others decided that they would be the ones to see her home for myriad reasons. First, they planned to kill MacRieve directly and so didn't see him available for the role of escort. Secondly, they wanted to protect "the little mortal"—the archers, because the three saw her as one among the fey, and Cade, because, as he said, "I bloody feel like it."

In that case, Rydstrom wanted them to spare the Lykae to allow him to be an extra sword. They would need him, he reasoned, to protect Mari on the journey to civilization because it was more perilous now than when she'd come on her own. The human armies were on the move and posed a real threat to her.

But the others despised MacRieve, couldn't trust him, and all agreed that "Bowen the Bitter doesn't exactly play well with others."

Bowen the Bitter? How appropriate.

They also agreed that they didn't know a more brutal, ruthless, and underhanded immortal than Bowen MacRieve.

MacRieve scowled in their direction, then turned back to her, as if he hoped she hadn't heard that. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it. What did he want to say to her? What could he say? "Oh, my bad for setting you up for torture and terror, and I know you will never be the same again, but... "

"I thought you would be able to get free," he finally said. "I never intended for you to be trapped so long."

She ignored him, staring at the far wall of the cave.

"And I could no' return sooner because I was trapped somewhere as well. With no food or water either."

Good. When she gave him no acknowledgment, his frustration became palpable. He ran his new hand over his face, seeming surprised to find it restored. Then, as if he couldn't stop himself, he actually sank down beside her.

There they sat in the firelight. Enemies. He'd almost destroyed her. She'd nearly murdered him. And for some reason, this moment felt the most surreal of the entire crazed night—because she recognized that on some level his presence... comforted.

"You've got to lift this curse from me, Mariketa."

She finally faced him with her brows drawn. "I did."

"Aye, you did lift one, but I know you hexed me more than once."

She pinched her forehead between her thumb and forefinger. "What are you talking about?"

"Sometime when we kissed, you enthralled me. You've made it so... so that I feel that you're my mate."

"Why do you think I've done this?" she asked, trying to recall that hazy night.

"Because you've shown you're no' shy about casting spells on me. And the Valkyrie Nïx confirmed it—she also said you would remove it for me."

Mari swallowed. She knew Nïx and trusted her.

He studied her expression. "Do you deny this?"

Want me as fiercely as I want you... She just prevented her eyes from widening. Oh, Hekate, had she made him want her? To the degree that he would believe she was his mate? She flushed guiltily.

Then her lips parted. The prediction.

It began with the obligatory "It shall come to pass...," then basically said that if an immortal warrior recognized the Awaited One as his, he would steal her away from the House of Witches. No magick would be strong enough to defeat his hold on her.

Was it MacRieve in the prediction?

An immortal? Check. A warrior? Check. Who'd recognized her as his mate? Damn.

Could she have brought this about with her erratic powers? Apparently so.

"If you dinna do this, then just deny it. Vow to the Lore that you dinna, and then we will figure out what is happening."

She couldn't say she'd done it, but she certainly couldn't deny it outright either.

"You're probably too weak to remove the second spell right now. I ken that. But I press for this for your own good as well. The need to treat you as my mate is strong in me. Nigh overwhelming."

"You have got to be kidding!" She scrambled away from him, casting him a horrified look.

"No, no, it's no' like that." He raised his palms when she still edged away from him.

"I wouldn't have sex with you if you were the last immortal on earth!"

He scowled. "There's far more to being a mate than just that."

She gave him a disbelieving expression.

"Just tell me you'll remove it after you rest. Then I will no' even have to explain my meaning." He stood and began pacing again. "We will no' ever have to speak to each other again. I know you want that as much as I do."

"You have no idea."

"I am grasping for patience when I'm no' known for it whatsoever. I ken you've been through hell, but I dinna intend to harm you so badly. You did intend to with me. Now, do I have to put us in a similar situation as during the first spell removal?"

"Similar situation?" she cried. "Like the one where you put me in fear for my life, then let go of that damned vine to heartlessly build my fear?" The callous bastard! "MacRieve, I hope I enthralled you. Then you can rot wanting me to be yours."

Something frightening flashed in his eyes. "You say that so easily when you've no comprehension of the damage you've already done with your tricks."

"Like what?"

"I was inches from the means to go back for my true mate—to prevent her death—and believed it would be so. Yet because I was so injured and no' regenerating, I was forced to make a decision that cost me the Hie. Because of you, Mariketa, I canna save an innocent young woman's life. I will never have her—which means you've robbed her of life and me of a future, a family, or any kind of meaningful existence."

Mari realized the others outside had fallen silent and were likely eavesdropping.

"So are you still glad that you'll continue to torment me with your spell? Because you canna hurt me worse than when I lost my mate—no' once, but two goddamned times!"

Fury suffused her, and she stood as well. "And what about how you've hurt me?" she asked in a low, seething tone. "Day after day I was forced to lie amid the incubi's putrid corpses, where I went without seeing daylight for three weeks. And each time they seized me in the dark and forced me to swallow blood to keep me alive, I got through it by imagining how I would make you pay." His jaws and fists clenched as his anger built, but she was beyond caring. "You sealed me in that vile place to die without a backward glance and only returned because you wanted something from me!"

He stalked closer, forcing her to crane her neck up to face him. "You convinced me that you could open the tomb, and I believed you would escape eventually. And I dinna know that the crypt was occupied—or that you were a bloody mortal!" He clutched her shoulders.

She tried to twist from his grip, but he held firm. Gods, she wanted to throw him across the cave—and with the same strength as when she'd pinned him earlier!

"What in the hell were you thinking to enter a competition like the Hie?" He gave her shoulders a jostle. "You knew what you were getting into, and you still signed up. You could have died!" he roared, shaking her hard.

She raised her hands to shove against his chest; he flew across the cavern, as though tossed against the far wall.

When he landed, he looked as dumbfounded as she felt. MacRieve was like a lightning rod for her powers. Whenever she wanted to use them against him, they worked perfectly.

As he made it back to his feet, an expression of such pure menace twisted his face that she thought he could kill her.

Fitting—since she was about to kill him. "By that same token, MacRieve, you knew what you were getting into as well!" she yelled. "So quit whining about any curse I put on you! If you enter a deadly competition against a witch, you should expect I'll use the weapons allotted me."

He pointed at her, opening his mouth and then closing it, knowing she was right. "I dinna intend this to happen to you! You struck out at me with malice."

"Only when you were about to seal us in!"

"Which I did because you put your filthy spell on me!"

"Just as you didn't intend for me to be trapped and have all these horrible things happen to me, I didn't intend for you to lose your mate, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone, even you. So you have a lot of nerve to say that my nightmare was unintentional, then to blame me directly for your troubles. Over a three-week period you lost the Hie, and because you lost the Hie, you lost your mate, so it's all my fault! You might try blaming the person who ultimately defeated you—I'm sure they didn't do it politely. Or you might try blaming the person responsible for her death in the first place!"

"I was responsible," he grated, his eyes suddenly so bleak they staggered her. "Me. And the gods know I do." Then he stormed from the cave, knocking their speechless audience out of the way.