Morrigan's Cross
Page 17
“Sorry to cut their evening short, but I think this takes precedence. Sit down, will you?” She dropped down, stretched out long, bare legs. “God, what a night.” She waved a hand in the air, fingered her pendant with the other as she studied his face. “You look better than you did. Are you healed?”
“Well enough. What place are you from?”
“Right to business.” She glanced over at the waitress who came to their table to clear it. “I’ll have a Grey Goose martini, straight up, two olives. Dry as dust.” She cocked a brow at Hoyt. When he said nothing, she held up two fingers.
She tucked her hair behind one ear as she leaned toward him. There were silver coils dangling from her ear in a Celtic knot pattern.
“I dreamed of you before that night. Twice before I think,” she began. “I try to pay attention to my dreams, but I could never hold on to these, until the last one. I think in the first, you were in a graveyard, and you were grieving. My heart broke for you, I remember feeling that. Odd, I remember more clearly now. The next time I dreamed of you, I saw you on a cliff, over the sea. I saw a woman with you who wasn’t a woman. Even in the dream I was afraid of her. So were you.”
She sat back, shuddering once. “Oh yes, I remember that now. I remember I was terrified, and there was a storm. And you... you struck out at her. I pushed—I remember I pushed what I had toward you, to try to help. I knew she was... she was wrong. Horribly wrong. There was lightning and screams—” She wished actively for her drink. “I woke up, and for an instant, the fear woke with me. Then it all faded.”
When he still said nothing, she drew in a breath. “Okay, we’ll stick with me for a while. I used my scrying mirror, I used my crystal, but I couldn’t see clearly. Only in sleep. You brought me to that place in the woods, in the circle. Or something did. Why?”
“It was not my work.”
“It wasn’t mine.” She tapped nails painted red as her lips on the table. “You have a name, handsome?”
“I’m Hoyt Mac Cionaoith.”
Her smile turned her face into something that all but stopped his heart. “Not from around here, are you?”
“No.”
“Ireland, I can hear that. And in the dream we spoke Gaelic, which I don’t—not really. But I think it’s more than where. It’s when, too, isn’t it? Don’t worry about shocking me. I’m immune tonight.”
He waged an internal debate. She’d been shown to him, and she had come within the circle. Nothing that meant harm to him should have been able to come within his protective ring. While he had been told to seek a witch, she was nothing, nothing that he’d expected.
Yet she’d worked to heal him, and had stayed with him while the wolves had stalked his ring. She’d come to him now for answers, and perhaps for help.
“I came through the Dance of the Gods, nearly a thousand years in time.”
“Okay.” She whistled out a breath. “Maybe not completely immune. That’s a lot to take on faith, but with everything that’s been going on, I’m willing to take the leap.” She lifted the glass the waitress set down, drank immediately. “Especially with this to cushion the fall. Run a tab, will you?” Glenna asked and took a credit card out of her purse.
“Something’s coming,” she said when they were alone again. “Something bad. Big, fat evil.”
“You don’t know.”
“I can’t see it all. But I feel it, and I know I’m connected with you on this. Not thrilled about that at this point.” She drank some more. “Not after what I saw on the subway.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“Something very nasty in a designer suit,” she explained. “It said she would feed on me. She—the woman on the cliff, I think. I’m going out on a limb here, a really shaky one. Are we dealing with vampires?”
“What is the subway?”
Glenna pressed her hands to her eyes. “Okay, we’ll spend some time later bringing you up to date on current events, modes of mass transportation and so on, but right now, I need to know what I’m facing. What’s expected of me.”
“I don’t know your name.”
“Sorry. Glenna. Glenna Ward.” She held a hand out to him. After a brief hesitation, he took it. “Nice to meet you. Now, what the hell is going on?”
He began, and she continued to drink. Then she held up a hand, swallowed. “Excuse me. Are you saying your brother—the guy who manhandled me, is a vampire?”
“He doesn’t feed on humans.”
“Oh good. Great. Points for him. He died nine hundred and seventy-odd years ago, and you’ve come here and now from there and then to find him.”
“I am charged by the gods to gather an army to fight and destroy the army the vampyre Lilith is making.”
“Oh God. I’m going to need another drink.”
He started to offer her his, but she waved him away and signaled the waitress. “No, go ahead. You’re going to need it, too, I imagine.”
He took a testing sip, blinked rapidly. “What is this brew?”
“Vodka martini. You should like vodka,” she said absently. “Seems to me they make it from potatoes.”
She ordered another drink and some bar food to counteract the alcohol. Calmer now, she listened to the whole of it without interrupting.
“And I’m the witch.”
There wasn’t just beauty here, he realized. There wasn’t just power. There was a seeking and a strength. Some he would seek, he remembered the goddess saying. And some would seek him.
So she had.
“I have to believe you are. You, my brother and I will find the others and begin.”
“Begin what? Boot camp? Do I look like a soldier to you?”
“You don’t, no.”
She propped a chin on her fist. “I like being a witch, and I respect the gift. I know there’s a reason this runs in my blood. A purpose. I didn’t expect it to be this. But it is.” She looked at him then, fully. “I know, the first time I dreamed of you that it was the next step in that purpose. I’m terrified. I’m so seriously terrified.”
“I left my family to come here, to do this thing. I left them with only the silver crosses and the word of the goddess that they would be protected. You don’t know fear.”
“Well enough. What place are you from?”
“Right to business.” She glanced over at the waitress who came to their table to clear it. “I’ll have a Grey Goose martini, straight up, two olives. Dry as dust.” She cocked a brow at Hoyt. When he said nothing, she held up two fingers.
She tucked her hair behind one ear as she leaned toward him. There were silver coils dangling from her ear in a Celtic knot pattern.
“I dreamed of you before that night. Twice before I think,” she began. “I try to pay attention to my dreams, but I could never hold on to these, until the last one. I think in the first, you were in a graveyard, and you were grieving. My heart broke for you, I remember feeling that. Odd, I remember more clearly now. The next time I dreamed of you, I saw you on a cliff, over the sea. I saw a woman with you who wasn’t a woman. Even in the dream I was afraid of her. So were you.”
She sat back, shuddering once. “Oh yes, I remember that now. I remember I was terrified, and there was a storm. And you... you struck out at her. I pushed—I remember I pushed what I had toward you, to try to help. I knew she was... she was wrong. Horribly wrong. There was lightning and screams—” She wished actively for her drink. “I woke up, and for an instant, the fear woke with me. Then it all faded.”
When he still said nothing, she drew in a breath. “Okay, we’ll stick with me for a while. I used my scrying mirror, I used my crystal, but I couldn’t see clearly. Only in sleep. You brought me to that place in the woods, in the circle. Or something did. Why?”
“It was not my work.”
“It wasn’t mine.” She tapped nails painted red as her lips on the table. “You have a name, handsome?”
“I’m Hoyt Mac Cionaoith.”
Her smile turned her face into something that all but stopped his heart. “Not from around here, are you?”
“No.”
“Ireland, I can hear that. And in the dream we spoke Gaelic, which I don’t—not really. But I think it’s more than where. It’s when, too, isn’t it? Don’t worry about shocking me. I’m immune tonight.”
He waged an internal debate. She’d been shown to him, and she had come within the circle. Nothing that meant harm to him should have been able to come within his protective ring. While he had been told to seek a witch, she was nothing, nothing that he’d expected.
Yet she’d worked to heal him, and had stayed with him while the wolves had stalked his ring. She’d come to him now for answers, and perhaps for help.
“I came through the Dance of the Gods, nearly a thousand years in time.”
“Okay.” She whistled out a breath. “Maybe not completely immune. That’s a lot to take on faith, but with everything that’s been going on, I’m willing to take the leap.” She lifted the glass the waitress set down, drank immediately. “Especially with this to cushion the fall. Run a tab, will you?” Glenna asked and took a credit card out of her purse.
“Something’s coming,” she said when they were alone again. “Something bad. Big, fat evil.”
“You don’t know.”
“I can’t see it all. But I feel it, and I know I’m connected with you on this. Not thrilled about that at this point.” She drank some more. “Not after what I saw on the subway.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“Something very nasty in a designer suit,” she explained. “It said she would feed on me. She—the woman on the cliff, I think. I’m going out on a limb here, a really shaky one. Are we dealing with vampires?”
“What is the subway?”
Glenna pressed her hands to her eyes. “Okay, we’ll spend some time later bringing you up to date on current events, modes of mass transportation and so on, but right now, I need to know what I’m facing. What’s expected of me.”
“I don’t know your name.”
“Sorry. Glenna. Glenna Ward.” She held a hand out to him. After a brief hesitation, he took it. “Nice to meet you. Now, what the hell is going on?”
He began, and she continued to drink. Then she held up a hand, swallowed. “Excuse me. Are you saying your brother—the guy who manhandled me, is a vampire?”
“He doesn’t feed on humans.”
“Oh good. Great. Points for him. He died nine hundred and seventy-odd years ago, and you’ve come here and now from there and then to find him.”
“I am charged by the gods to gather an army to fight and destroy the army the vampyre Lilith is making.”
“Oh God. I’m going to need another drink.”
He started to offer her his, but she waved him away and signaled the waitress. “No, go ahead. You’re going to need it, too, I imagine.”
He took a testing sip, blinked rapidly. “What is this brew?”
“Vodka martini. You should like vodka,” she said absently. “Seems to me they make it from potatoes.”
She ordered another drink and some bar food to counteract the alcohol. Calmer now, she listened to the whole of it without interrupting.
“And I’m the witch.”
There wasn’t just beauty here, he realized. There wasn’t just power. There was a seeking and a strength. Some he would seek, he remembered the goddess saying. And some would seek him.
So she had.
“I have to believe you are. You, my brother and I will find the others and begin.”
“Begin what? Boot camp? Do I look like a soldier to you?”
“You don’t, no.”
She propped a chin on her fist. “I like being a witch, and I respect the gift. I know there’s a reason this runs in my blood. A purpose. I didn’t expect it to be this. But it is.” She looked at him then, fully. “I know, the first time I dreamed of you that it was the next step in that purpose. I’m terrified. I’m so seriously terrified.”
“I left my family to come here, to do this thing. I left them with only the silver crosses and the word of the goddess that they would be protected. You don’t know fear.”
