Chapter Twenty-Seven
In the rooftop apartment in Belltown, a water glass slipped from Morgan’s hand, dropping to the floor and shattering.
It was the third glass in as many hours.
Dawn was moments away. She hadn’t been able to sleep.
She’d had a premonition. And this one connected to Rowan.
No, not quite a vision of the future. More a feeling of something that was happening in the present.
Across the room, Wiz lifted his head off his paws. He barked and his tongue hung out the side of his mouth. His expression was piercing, as though trying to will her into action. It was as though he could read her mind, her concern.
Morgan reached for a dustpan and broom in a closet beside the sink, to sweep the glass.
She knew so little about his kind. She knew he was a shapeshifter but had never seen him shift into human form.
She also knew he was loyal to female Wizards but not why.
Perhaps it didn’t matter. Some secrets deserved protection.
Was that how she classified her keeping the truth from Rowan that he had a son? Was her secret one that must be safeguarded? But who was she protecting? Certainly not Rowan.
It was baked into male Wizards by their leadership that they must not worry about such mundane matters as parenthood or raising a child. Their focus must remain on preserving the continuation of their species.
Neither did her secret protect her child. He had been taken from her to raise as a warrior, and she did not know if he was alive or dead. In the early years she had tried to search for him, but he had disappeared without a trace.
She cut her finger on one of the shards of glass as she dumped the broken pieces into the wastebasket under the sink. Red blood dripped into the sink as she gazed out the window at the awakening dawn. She knew who she protected.
She was protecting herself.
Her biggest fear was that he had wanted a child and would blame her for not telling him. Would he want to search for their son or tell her that their child was better off where he was?
Morgan stopped the blood on her finger with a thought and slid Wiz a glance. There were times when she could almost feel what he was thinking. She felt a wave of comfort advising her not to judge herself too harshly. “Wiz. Was that you?”
Wiz only blinked and rested his head on his paws once again.
Or perhaps her inner strength was growing and had made the suggestion subconsciously. Danu of the Waters had said that might happen the more her powers grew. She prayed her power of healing grew as well. She would need it in the coming days.
Stryker’s condition had worsened. He was not responding as she’d hoped. He lay on his back as still as a likeness of a medieval knight on the top of a marble casket, a grim image with only the slight rise and fall of his chest as an indication he was alive.
AJ fared better. The sleeping aid Stryker had given her before he’d been poisoned was wearing off and there was color in her cheeks and an easy, strong rhythm in her breathing.
When she regained consciousness, Morgan hoped AJ could shed light on what had happened to them.
Until then, all Morgan could do was wait.
She’d always believed she was patient. Rowan was the one with a short fuse.
Not anymore. Somehow their roles had reversed.
When she’d broken the last glass, she knew the real reason her nerves were so frayed.
Rowan was in danger, and she was powerless to help him.
His mind was closed to hers and there was no way she could warn him or find out if he was all right.
The only reason she sensed danger around him at all was that the brand he’d placed over her heart, and hers over his, enhanced their connection.
His was the image of a rowan tree in the center of a circle of flames and hers was three curved blue lines representing the currents and power of water.
Water and fire should not be compatible except during the Fertility Festival of Bealtaine, or so she’d always believed.
Was this another one of the lies they’d been taught as children?
Rowan’s brand began to warm against her skin. Morgan placed her hand against it and received an instant jolt of heat. She turned toward the door as her pulse quickened. He was coming.
Wiz rose from a sitting position and barked.
AJ stirred in her sleep, curled into a tighter ball, and settled in a more comfortable position, but Stryker remained stone still.
Rowan’s name on her lips, Morgan flung open the door.
As he stood framed in the doorway Rowan was covered with gray ash and soot, his clothes torn.
When his gaze locked on hers, his disheveled appearance paled in comparison to the condition of his eyes.
He was in pain. A pain that went beyond the flesh.
Pain that was heart deep. Her breath faltered.
Tear-like trails of blood etched down through the hollow expression on his face.
“What has happened?”
He winced and gripped the door jamb. “Explosion. Evidence destroyed,” he said as he collapsed in her arms.
****
Rowan was alive. That was all Morgan cared about. But his eyes… Fear closed around her heart. They resembled the condition of Stryker’s eyes. “Please, Goddess. No!”
Morgan pulled him into the room and over to the sink, ripping off his shirt and flushing his eyes with cool water.
There were minor cuts scattered over his chest and shoulders.
They would heal. She was not so sure about his eyes.
Only when the redness around them dulled did she turn off the flow of water and guide him over to the sofa, pouring the strength and force of her healing touch into and over him.
When she felt she’d purged the worst of the poison, she relaxed enough to speak. “What did you learn at Stryker’s house?”
He eased her hands away gently. “Nothing good. Stryker’s house reeked with poison.
The smell and the blue fog were everywhere.
That’s what burned my eyes. But the house that was destroyed wasn’t Stryker’s,” he said, his voice strained.
“I was with Lyons. We were investigating a lead on the Eye Doctor serial killings and about ready to make an arrest when the house exploded.”
Morgan’s hand trembled as she slipped her hand into his. She didn’t want to ask about the poison in Stryker’s house. She sensed he was circling around the topic because he didn’t want to face the truth head on. She kept her voice low and gentle. “Is Detective Lyons all right?”
Rowan squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the arm of the sofa as though fighting off a wave of pain.
“Not a scratch. He and his men were still in the car. The only people killed were those in the house. We’re back to square one.
” He kissed the back of her hand. “Thank you for your healing touch. My eyes are better,” he said, trying to stand. “Need to get back…”
His eyes weren’t better. She knew it and he did as well.
The redness had only dulled. Whatever was poisoning him was pushing back.
His whole body shuddered, and he would have pitched forward had she not been close enough to hold him still.
Placing her hands on his shoulders, she guided him to a reclining position.
She refocused and summoned her inner strength, praying for guidance, calling on the force and power of water to prevail against an unseen enemy that was poisoning his body.
Morgan wished she knew more about the poison. She felt lost in a dark forest without the stars to guide her. Seconds folded into minutes. The effort to heal him drained her strength but she persisted. She would not let it win.
Wiz padded over, turning first toward Rowan and then Morgan.
He settled by Rowan’s head, keeping his eyes trained on Morgan.
A surge of power passed between her and Wiz.
He had been with her when she had ministered to Stryker.
At the time, she had felt a surge of power as well but had not made the connection that it had originated from Wiz.
Morgan breathed in the energy Wiz offered and, lifting her arms, continued to pull the poison from Rowan’s body.
Time moved slowly as dawn’s awakening light strengthened to welcome the day.
An hour later, she felt the cold tendrils of the poison’s hold weaken, retreat, and finally dissolve, and she sank to her knees with words of thanks on her lips. Her gaze traveled over his bare chest.
Thick bands of Celtic spirals circled his shoulders.
Ogham lettering, in neat, even rows, spread over the right side of his chest, retelling a history of battles lost and won, and the dates he’d accomplished each stage necessary for becoming a full Wizard.
His accomplishments mirrored those of a decorated soldier, yet it was the brand she’d placed over his heart that held her attention.
It pulsated with an iridescent silver-blue, a stark contrast to the ebony-black tattoos covering his body.
Morgan reached up to touch it, but Rowan opened his eyes and entwined her hand in his. His smile resembled a small boy’s who was caught in mischief. “I’m burning for you, even when I’m on the brink of death.”
She turned away before he could see the fear mirrored in her expression.
“Do not speak of death. You are too stubborn to die. And I’m too stubborn to allow it.
” Morgan slipped her hand from his and reached for a jar of ointment on the table beside the sofa.
She needed a distraction from her thoughts.
Sexual attraction was not the only reason for the brand’s glow. Did he know what else it could do? Her hands trembled, making it difficult to open the lid.
He reached for the jar and opened it, handing it back. “You saved my life and all I can think of is taking you to bed and making love.”
His gentle tone warmed her heart and reminded him of the man she had fallen in love with all those years ago.
“Hold that thought. But I would not be a good healer if I encouraged you to overtax yourself. For now, you must rest.” She gave him a nod and forced a smile while she concentrated on the ointment.
She struggled with the warring emotions of relief that he was recovering and regret that there were so many secrets between them.
She applied the ointment over the lids of his eyes.
Could she tell him? Would he believe her if she did?
Or would he resent the connection between them even more if he knew of the child they’d created in love.
Or the hidden secrets of the brand she placed over his heart?
Male Wizards were fiercely independent. How would he react, knowing there was a possibility her brand had protected him until he could reach her? She was drowning in secrets.
“You should have come straight here from Stryker’s house,” she said under her breath, leaving an ocean of words left unsaid. She couldn’t tell him. Not yet.
Rowan tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You are a woman of contrasts. Gentle as well as strong. I wanted to come, but when I received Lyons’ call saying it was urgent, I made a choice.
What I found out was worth the risk.” He paused, and his glance traveling toward Stryker’s room.
“Oculist stones still exist. They’re the main ingredient in the poison. ”
The jar of ointment slipped from her hand. Rowan caught it before it hit the floor and set it on the table.
She glanced toward Stryker as Rowan had seconds before. “The Talons and the Grey Council told us—promised us—that the Oculist stones were destroyed.”
Morgan studied the jar, remembering the story.
An alchemist in Atlantis had created a substance from a meteor he believed would enhance a male Wizard’s power.
Instead, the poison almost wiped out the male population before the poison was secured and destroyed.
Caitlin had been among a small group of female Wizards who believed the Oculist stones were never destroyed.
But why would their leadership lie about something so dangerous?
She shuddered as a new fear vibrated through her.
Rowan drew her beside him on the sofa, wrapping her in his embrace. “How long have you suspected?” His words were not an accusation.
She welcomed his warmth, his heat, his strength.
“Caitlin tried to warn me of an impending danger, but I wouldn’t listen.
Even when I witnessed your brother’s symptoms, and then yours, I hoped I was wrong.
Healers can minimize the effects of the Oculist stones if caught early enough and if the dose is weak, but even then we do not know the long-term effects. You could still…”
He stroked her hair, silencing her unspoken fears with the touch of his hand.
“I have a confession to make. Although we were told that the mines were destroyed, Fire Wizards weren’t convinced.
I think it’s our distrusting nature.” He pulled her closer.
“They lied to us, and now someone is harvesting the stones and killing Wizards.”
Morgan felt the deep pain and loss raging through him. He had dedicated his life and loyalty to the Talons and the Grey Council, and they betrayed him. She glanced at his profile. His jaw was set, his eyes stone cold. She longed to bring life back into them. “What can we do?”
“The only thing we can. Destroy the Oculist stones before they destroy us.”
Morgan shuddered, knowing he was not talking about just the stones.