Happy Tuesday. And it's time for your weekly Teaser. This week's Teaser from...
Available online at St. Martin’s Press, Amazon, B&N, etc. WICKED MAGIC is the 3rd book in the Magic series. WM recv’d wonderful feedback from these reviewers...
· “… a sinfully engaging read. One word of warning: you will begrudge every moment you are not reading this book so make sure you have completed whatever you have to do. Keir and Rhiannon are my new favorites in this series.” 5 Roses, A Romance Review
· “The war is going badly and events may become even more dire in this new chapter in McCray's scintillating Magic series. Blistering sex and riveting battles are plentiful as this series continues building toward its climax.” ~ 4 Stars, RT Book Reviews
Enjoy!!
Cheyenne
“WICKED MAGIC”
ISBN: 978-0312949570
© Cheyenne McCray, 2009
Uncorrected Proof Copy
All Rights Reserved, St. Martin's Press
San Francisco
With a grunt of exertion, Rhiannon helped Sydney move a long table from one end of the once closed off common room to the other. They set the table down with a loud thump and Rhiannon put her hands on her jean-clad hips, rolled her shoulders, and moved her neck from side-to-side to relieve some of the stress. Her chin-length auburn hair swung as she moved her head.
It was only the night before last that she’d had the vision of Ceithlenn and the images still turned her stomach and caused the Fomorii scars on her cheek to burn.
The common room was filled with chatter of witches, warriors, and Paranormal Special Forces, PSF, officers all working together. As much as she wanted more D’Danann to get here and get here quick, she had no idea where they were going to put them. They’d probably have to sleep on the floor of their shared apartments until more rooms were ready. She and the others would have to make the basement into a living area.
Yeah, they needed more space. Never mind the friggin’ grocery store and cookie factory they needed to buy to feed the warrior Fae. Thank the goddess for the wise investments most of the witches had made over the years.
Dirt streaked Rhiannon’s cheeks and sweat rolled down the side of her face. But she felt the satisfaction of a job well done as she gazed around the room where everyone was working to clean up the place. They had moved out old furniture, boxes, and assorted other items that had been stored in the room. A lot of the furniture could be used in apartments by the residents and had already been assigned.
Jake Macgregor, the PSF Captain, had inherited the building that was in the Haight-Ashbury District. He had a storeroom large enough to temporarily house what was left of the miscellaneous and unusual objects found in the common room. The witches and D’Danann used a combination of magic and muscle and had set the room to rights in record time.
“Much better,” Rhiannon said to Sydney. Spirit, Rhiannon’s cocoa-colored cat, jumped onto a nearby couch. Her familiar gave a loud meow, perhaps agreeing, perhaps not.
“It came along quite nicely. Just a few things to take care of.” Sydney leaned one hip against the table and adjusted her chic glasses. “Hopefully we’ll be done before the new bunch of warriors arrive.”
Sydney had gorgeous raven hair and violet eyes that were only partially hidden by her glasses. She was the CEO of an advertising agency on Market Street in downtown San Francisco and usually wore fitted suits. Today was Saturday and she still managed to look great, dusty or no, in a pair of designer jeans and a lilac polo shirt.
Next to her, Rhiannon felt frumpy in her snug purple jeans and her bright yellow I-heart-San Francisco T-shirt. It had been a little warm today, the sun out from behind the fog, and her skin was a little red from having been in the sunshine. She was so fair that just a little sun went a long way.
She wiped her palms on her jeans and gave a big sigh. So much done, so much more work to do. Other rooms needed attention, and she was certain they weren’t going to get it all done before the additional D’Danann Enforcers arrived.
Jake Macgregor had just today opened up the common room in the apartment complex. His uncle had closed off the room when he had owned the complex and used it for storage. With all the additional D’Danann warriors on their way from Otherworld, and the number of warriors, officers, and witches already stationed at the apartments, there was no way they’d be able to use the kitchen of Enchantments as a meeting place any longer. They’d been pushing it as it was.
Sydney’s Doberman familiar, Chaos, bounded into the room, headed straight for Sydney. The moment he reached her, he jumped up and planted his front paws on Sydney’s belly, leaving two dirty prints on her shirt. She laughed and rubbed the big lug behind his ears.
Spirit hissed, laid back his own ears, and arched his back. “Oh, get over it.” Rhiannon shushed the cat, who had never taken to the Doberman. Much like he wasn’t crazy about Janis Arrowsmith’s mouse familiar, Mortimer. Rhiannon had been concerned more than once that Spirit would forget the familiars-don’t-eat-familiars rule when it came to Mortimer.
Chaos was harmless, but unfortunately lived up to his name. Well, he was harmless unless his mistress was threatened in any way.
A cheer rose up as Cassia strode in with trays of food followed by Copper and Silver who were laden with platters as well.
Rhiannon grinned as Tiernan, one of the D’Danann, took the tray Copper was carrying despite her insistence that she could do it herself. He was having the hardest time getting her to take it easy and stay off her ankle cast. The copper-haired witch had broken her ankle in Otherworld when she went to battle to keep a door to Underworld closed.
Tiernan just ignored Copper’s protests and carried the platter to the table that Sydney and Rhiannon had just moved.
Copper hobbled after him, her long braid slipping over her shoulder. “Dammit, Tiernan. I was doing just fine.” After he set the tray down he kissed her soundly and Copper melted into him.
A twinge of envy gripped Rhiannon before she brushed it aside.
Nothing lasted forever. People left. They left all the time. Her birth parents had abandoned her on Aunt Aga’s doorstep when she was only two. Growing up, she had learned almost nothing about them, let alone how she had inherited her Elvin blood. Aunt Aga was her mother’s much older sister, and she had made it very clear that she resented the burden of raising her niece.
And then when Rhiannon’s strange ability had appeared, Aunt Aga had been so horrified, Rhiannon knew that this power was something bad. Maybe even something evil. When she turned eighteen, Aunt Aga had been only too happy to tell Rhiannon that she had to leave. Rhiannon had been able to move onto a houseboat owned by a nice elderly couple she had befriended until Silver gave her a job at the Coven’s metaphysical shop.
Over the years, Rhiannon had dated here and there and had had two serious relationships. One had ended with her catching the guy with another woman and the other man had left her for a woman who had kids. The only thing in her life that had seemed to last was her love for her Coven sisters and their love for her . . . Well, there were a few exceptions to the rule, like Hannah. That witch rubbed her the wrong way. Always invading her personal space—her “little box” as Hannah liked to call it.
Her Coven sisters loved her in return, but what if they found out about Rhiannon’s ability? She looked around the room at her friends. She had worried about that more than once.
It was one thing to turn to dark magic.
It was another thing to carry the darkness inside.
If they found out about the Shadows lurking within Rhiannon, would her chosen family still feel the same or would they react with disgust and horror the way Aunt Aga had?
Rhiannon never intended to find out.
She shook her head as all the D’Danann and PSF officers dug into the food. Trays of turkey sandwiches, huge bowls of Boston baked beans, potato salad, and macaroni salad. Platters of deviled eggs, fresh baked bread rolls, large arrangements of assorted vegetables and dip, bags of potato chips, pitchers of iced tea, soda pop and orange juice. And not to forget the dessert—chocolate, red velvet, and marble cakes. Oh, and the witches never left out the chocolate chip cookies, a huge favorite of Hawk’s. Cassia was having to cook full-time these days.
Yeah, all the D’Danann warriors definitely lived up to their legendary appetites.
Now if the D’Danann would only find their Cauldron of Dagda, the witches wouldn’t have to fear going bankrupt with the warriors eating so much. The Cauldron of Dagda was a treasure the god Dagda obtained from the city of Murias and used to feed his army of Tuatha D’Danann. The food in the magic cauldron never ran out and it had healing powers, as well as restoring the energy and strength of anyone who ate from it.
Damned if they couldn’t use that all the way around.
A large commotion started at the doorway to the common room and Rhiannon looked casually over to see a new group of leather-clad warriors entering the room. The D’Danann already stationed in San Francisco greeted the men and women with slaps to their backs and the kind of handshakes people used to do way back when—hand to elbow grips. Rhiannon liked the way they spoke with unusual accents, mostly thick Irish brogues.
“Godsdamnit, Keir, what took you so long?” Hawk growled when he strode up to one of the warriors who Rhiannon had never seen before. Her heart thumped a little more than usual when she looked at the stranger. “You should have been here two days ago,” Hawk continued.
“Always jumping into the fray without preparation, brother.” Keir’s scowl. The way he fisted his hands told Rhiannon the term ‘brotherly love’ might be a bit lost on these two. He tossed a worn leather pack against the wall and Rhiannon thought she heard a faint “oof.” She shook her head as she swung her attention back to Keir who was saying, “Seems you have yet to learn your lesson about planning.”
“He had to ensure these warriors were ready.” Tiernan pushed his way between the two men. He had selected a couple of sandwiches and placed them near a pile of potato chips on his plate. Having been born to a high D’Danann Court, Tiernan’s Irish accent sounded more refined than the others. “These warriors are young,” he added.
Hawk grumbled something Rhiannon couldn’t make out and then he turned his back on the man who had called him brother. She hadn’t known Hawk had a brother. Or maybe it was just one of those things—they all called each other brother and sister D’Danann. But it was the way Keir had said brother that made her think it was more than that.
She was going to turn and ask Silver if they’d figured out where all these men and women were going to stay, but she couldn’t quite take her gaze off the new warrior.
And then, for some reason she caught his attention.
Their eyes met and she couldn’t even blink, she was so mesmerized by his dark eyes. A connection sizzled between them that made her heart beat even faster.
The man studied her in a way that made her feel like he was stripping off her clothing layer by layer. Her cheeks heated as his gaze slowly perused her from head to toe and then his eyes met hers. He had the deepest, darkest eyes she’d ever seen.
His black hair reached his shoulders, and goddess what impressive shoulders he had, not to mention that broad chest. His sleeveless leather shirt showed his finely carved biceps and his forearms had a light scattering of black hair that led down to strong hands. What could he do with those hands . . .
Rhiannon’s belly did a little flip.
Like the other warriors, he was clad in leather pants and wore a weapons belt with a sword on one side, a dagger on the other. His pants fit snugly, showing thighs that certainly must be muscled, and the pants were tucked into scuffed leather boots that reached his knees. And what an impressive package was outlined against those leather pants.
When her gaze met his again, she saw that his expression was fierce, proud, and arrogant. Definitely arrogant. He wasn’t what she’d call handsome. He was rugged, unruly, untamed looking. He had one scar that slashed one cheek and reminded her of her own scars and of the heat that constantly burned beneath them.
This warrior was a bad boy. Definitely a bad boy.
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