And a part of me still yearns for it,” she admitted at last. “I haven’t wanted to say anything to you about this, Torin. But ever since we arrived in England, I’ve felt it so strongly. The Artifact calling to me. Whispering to me. And something inside me is listening.”
His fingers threaded through her hair and held her head to his chest, as if by the strength of his will, he could keep her safe. Deny the very words she was confessing.
“But you didn’t listen, Shea. You let it go. That counts as well.”
“I hope it’s enough,” she said. “Because this thing is like nothing else on earth.”
“It devours your soul, one nibble at a time. It’s as if it’s happening so fast and yet so slowly, you can’t even see what it’s doing to you until it’s too late.”
She heard the wariness in his voice and she shared it.
“How are we ever going to carry the damn thing back to Haven safely?”
He took a breath and let it out again in a rush. “I have an idea about that. But it will still be dangerous.”
Shea squeezed him tightly, burrowing in close, as if trying to crawl inside his body completely. “It’s not like we have a choice, Torin.”
“True enough.” He gave her one last, hard hug, then released her. “Let me tell you what I’m thinking. Then we’ll go.”
Kellyn was waiting.
She hated Wales.
Hated the cold. The wet. The wind.
Frustration and fury bubbled together inside her, creating a stew of dark emotions that rose up and threatened to choke her. But her strength of purpose, her will, conquered those more intransigent emotions and beat them into submission.
She wasn’t about to let her own eagerness ruin a well-thought-out plan. This time it was her plan, done her way.
If she failed—which she deemed impossible—she would have no one to blame but herself. And better that way than having to deal with incompetent morons, no matter how well motivated.
Rain suddenly poured from a leaden sky, drenching her in seconds. Irritated and now soaked, Kellyn waved her hand and created an opulent cave in the side of the mountain. God knew it wasn’t a five-star hotel, but she couldn’t afford to leave the proximity of Haven. Her scrying mirror told her Shea and Torin were on their way back. If she missed them . . .
She shook her head, provided clean, dry clothes for herself, then created a fire. Easing down onto a makeshift bed of silk pillows and warm blankets, she watched the flames, losing herself in the mystic call of fire and darkness.
Chapter 48
The fire cage Torin constructed to contain the Artifact was a huge drain on his energies.
Especially since he had not only to cage the black silver but also to flash himself and Shea back to Haven. Their return trip was taking much longer. Even his strengthened powers were no match for the black silver. The jumps were shorter and the breaks to rejuvenate themselves were longer.
He glanced at his witch, read the fatigue in her green eyes and knew that her powers as well were being drained. They were linked so closely now, it was their combined energies being used to safely transport the Artifact to Wales. And the journey was taking its toll on both of them.
He hated knowing what this was doing to her and hated more the fact that he could do nothing to change it. Without their working together, the Artifact would never get back to Haven. He turned his gaze on the damn thing, resting on a now blackened rock beneath one of a pair of yew trees. They no longer set it on the ground, not knowing if the magic spilled into the earth or just blackened the patch of grass it rested on. Instead, they set it on rocks or suspended it from tree limbs with rope they fashioned magically.
Anything to keep from actually touching it. The effect it had on them was too severe to risk exposure to it again. Even with their combined magics, they might not be strong enough to resist its lure.
“We’re nearly there,” Torin said quietly, his voice barely carrying over the hiss and spit of the campfire between them.
They hadn’t risked staying in a hotel or a B and B. Not only were they in constant danger of being pursued or attacked, but carrying the Artifact was an invitation to disaster. So instead they had camped alongside a river just inside the border of Wales. By