Marked By Magic by Christa Wick
Chapter Two
Summonedto a meeting by his pack leader, Mitch Tanner sat at the great table that had once been rung round with clan leaders from across the country—sometimes the world—and their most powerful witches.
For all but the last decade, there had been an All-Mother, too. Now there was little more than lingering confusion and grief, the clans mourning all that had been lost and a looming defeat that seemed inevitable at times.
Hearing the chamber's heavy wooden doors creak, Tanner cocked his head. Before his wolf could sense who was on the other side trying to get in, Denver Gladwin bounded up from his chair.
There were only two people in existence who could make the clan leader move at the speed of light. One was Esme, Denver's mate and the head of the Witches' Council. The other was Oscar, an orphaned cub the Gladwins had fostered up until a few rough weeks ago.
As with all the other recently discovered orphan cubs, the boy had been relocated to a safe house off clan lands. A small troop made up of wolves and well-trained latents guarded him.
It was the same for each cub they had relocated. None of the boys could be housed together because Hunters had attached crystals infused with dark magic to the boys' spines.
There was no consensus on why the Hunters had done that, but the split in opinions came down to either the cubs served as homing devices to penetrate the magic that cloaked the location of clan lands or they were bombs waiting to be activated.
Tanner didn't discount that both possibilities were true.
Denver threw open the doors and caught Esme just as her legs folded. Beyond her, Tanner could see the small retinue of witches and latents who were fighting around the clock to keep the woman alive.
He only vaguely understood what was wrong with Esme. Some sort of bad magic conjured by the Hunters. The magic was tied to a golem that looked like Esme. Her mother, Camille, had a hand in creating the monstrosity.
There was more conjecture flying around that Camille also had a hand in keeping the thing alive. Now the traitorous bitch was in a magic coma of sorts, her immobile body locked in a crystal chamber.
Speculations about Esme's health included the possibility that, without Camille, the golem was deteriorating, its existence somehow so intertwined with Esme that if one should die, so must the other.
Tanner knew he wasn't capable of tracking all the moving pieces. He was the kind of wolf who needed a specific target. He craved something he could shoot at or a throat he could sink his teeth into, throttling his target until death or compliance resulted.
"Something has happened at Himrod!" Esme rasped, her voice like two gravestones colliding.
Worse than the words was the haunted look in her tearful gaze. Whatever that something was, the witch had seen it.
Hearing the location, Tanner pushed through Esme's retinue until he stood mere inches from Denver. Not only was Oscar at Himrod, so was Michelle Ripley, the latent who was—but could never really be—Tanner's mate.
Still in Denver's embrace, Esme stiffened. Her entire body froze in a rigid arc as her eyes rolled up until just the whites showed.
Anyone from the meeting who could help Esme rushed forward. Silantra, the previous leader of the Witches' Council, and Iris North, a she-wolf who could wield magic, laid hands on Esme, magic flowing through their fingertips to infuse her with healing energy. Behind Iris stood her mate Cade Mercer, his hand on her back, his wolf's energy a sort of psychic battery that fueled Iris's magic.
The stiff curve of Esme's spine broke hard. She folded in Denver's arms like a crushed cardboard box. He placed her on the table, straightening her limbs then cradling her head with one powerful arm. His free hand stroked patiently at her cheek in an attempt to rouse her.
Remaining at the chamber's threshold, the witches and latents who had chased after Esme dropped to their knees in a circle and attempted to cast for any information on what was happening in Himrod.
To Tanner, it looked like each woman worked as a silo, but with all of them collectively sucking the magic from the room as everyone around Esme focused on reviving her.
"Stop!" Tanner growled, his finger pointing at the center of the circle the women had formed.
Half a dozen angry glares lifted in his direction. His hackles rose even as his balls retreated higher into his body. His wolf wasn't weak, but magic was magic and these women were among the strongest witches across the country.
A twitch of their nose could twist his balls in a knot.
"He's right," Silantra said, one hand gesturing for the women to leave. "Do that far away from her."
After the last woman retreated, Tanner pulled the doors shut and returned to the table.
Denver continued stroking his mate's cheek, his deep voice trying to penetrate whatever force or malady gripped her.
"Esme, love, what is it about Himrod?"
Tanner restlessly shifted his weight, one foot to the other, back again, forward once more, his wolf fighting the urge to race from the room, hop on his motorcycle and drive to the outpost. No thought of backup or a battle plan, no concern for the cub, wolves, or any of the latents save one.
Sweet Michelle, with her sad, forgiving gaze—the mate Tanner would not claim but would die to protect.
"Both wolves are dead," Esme softly groaned, her voice tightly wrapped with anguish. "Their hearts harvested."
"Baby," Denver started, then swallowed hard to seal the crack in his voice. "Do you mean Oscar, too?"
The tension coursing through those close to the witch multiplied until she weakly shook her head.
"I sense three latents moving away from Himrod in a vehicle," she answered with a ragged voice. "I can't see them, but it must be Tavi, Philia, and Nadine, because Michelle is with Oscar. She's trying to cloak them both…she's both stronger than she thought herself to be and she is drawing on Oscar's wolf. I can see him, just barely, but not her."
Tanner wanted to get to the witch, but he'd have to peel Denver away from her, a task he'd never seen anyone manage to accomplish. Anyone who tried wound up bloodied or dead.
"Baby," Denver coaxed. "Are you sure you're seeing this in the now?"
"Some of it is now," she answered. "The wolf hearts moving, the latent energy around them. That is all right now and faint. What drove me from my room were images being sent to me—the slaughter, Oscar and Michelle picking blueberries for dessert, then the two of them hiding by the lake, Hunters moving through the trees, their flashlights searching back and forth. I could only see that so clearly because of…"
She trailed off, her hand vaguely gesturing toward her stomach.
Tanner knew what she meant. It was impossible to keep a secret for long around wolves and witches. Shifters heard things even if they weren't trying to listen, and witches could see things they weren't trying to view. News had spread around the New York clan that, like the cubs, someone had placed crystals in Esme when she was young, maybe even at birth. Unlike the cubs, Esme's crystals weren't attached to her spine.
Hers had been purposefully placed against her ovaries.
At least that was the gossip around Witch Mountain, and her little hand gesture was enough to confirm it for Tanner.
The confirmation brought with it a sinking feeling in his gut. The vehicle she could feel in real time with the latents and wolf hearts meant there was no cub. That could mean Oscar was dead or badly injured and Michelle with him, her body in the same state as the cub's.
Tanner's fingers smoothed across his scarred cheek as Cade picked up a two-way radio and growled.
"We have to get rolling now. I'll see if we can contact the guards just in case it is a premonition."
Denver cupped both of Esme's cheeks with his big, strong hands. He pushed more of his wolf at her, hair sprouting along his exposed skin and his body beginning to glow with the same topaz hue that lit his gaze.
"Baby, please, try to see Oscar," he pleaded as Cade moved into the hall with the radio.
Her hands moved down to her stomach, the dainty fingers and palms cradling her sides. "He…he's shivering…so cold and frightened. Water, darkness, his chest hurting and then moonlight."
She drew a deep breath. The jerk that came with the intake of air caused fresh tears to spill down her cheeks. "The hearts are with the latents. I can track them, but I have to get closer—"
Denver shook his head. As much as Denver loved the cub, as much a duty as he owed to the captured latents and the dead shifters who had sacrificed their lives, Tanner knew the man didn't want to risk his already sick—already dying—mate.
Tanner understood, even approved. If any of his so-called superiors tried to order him on a mission that didn't involve going to Himrod and finding Michelle, he'd rip their heart out and grind it to dust as he walked from the room.
Cade returned from the hall. He jerked his head in Tanner's direction.
"Navarro and Mathis are gathering two more wolves for Himrod. Take Silantra with you. Expect a trap. Find the latent and the cub. Dig in if you need to and call for reinforcements. Iris and I will go with a second team to track the other latents. Wherever they're being taken, I expect Quentin will be there to greet them."
"Making decisions for your alpha?" Silantra asked, her pupils ringed with witch light.
Tanner locked his jaw shut. He knew the woman had not taken well to being supplanted by the younger Esme or the rapid political elevation of Iris, a hybrid witch-wolf, to the council, but there was no tangible reason to suspect her loyalty, especially after Esme had made her the witches' lead scholar. The power of Silantra's magic may have waned with age, but her agile mind was stuffed full of decades spent learning everything there was to know about the craft and there were now enough latents between the clans to create an actual school of witchcraft.
"He keeps me rational where my mate and Oscar are involved," Denver deadpanned, his yellow-gold gaze glittering at the witch with a warning. "Now go, before I decide something on my own that you'll like a helluva lot less."
