Page 14 of Elemental Love (Warlocks #1)

Chapter seven

A gatha poured herself a small sherry in celebration.

She gave the glass of amber liquid a critical glance and added a bit more.

Better. Her plans for Evrain were beginning to come together and that was worthy of a drink or two.

Since she had engineered a meeting between Evrain and Dominic, the two young men had become a little closer.

Of course, that was inevitable. She had never seen two auras more compatible.

The only couple she knew that came near were Gregory and Coryn.

She suspected that Evrain would like to move faster, much faster, but for once he was managing to temper his impatience and give Dominic the time and space he needed.

Agatha had no doubt that Dominic was interested.

Whenever he and Evrain crossed paths, the air crackled with the sparks of attraction.

She had watched with interest and pleasure as Dominic had progressed from complete avoidance to tentative conversation and shy smiles.

It was fascinating. Something had triggered the change.

Aggie suspected it had something to do with her pot of balm and the manner of its delivery, but when she had questioned Evrain about it he’d clammed up and just given her an enigmatic smile.

More mysterious than the Mona Lisa, damn it. I want details!

A side effect of the burgeoning relationship between Evrain and Dominic was that Evrain visited Hornbeam Cottage more and more.

Agatha was under no illusions about the reason for his visits.

It certainly wasn’t to see her and subject himself to more loving abuse as she attempted to imbue in him the discipline he needed to control his powers.

If Dominic was around, even out in the garden, Evrain’s lessons went well.

If he was absent, Agatha kept a fire extinguisher to hand.

She wished that Gregory could visit more.

Evrain really needed the guidance of another elemental warlock.

She did her best but she was a poor substitute for someone who lived and breathed the power as Gregory did, but Gregory had his own life to lead and it was at the other end of the country.

The evening air was chilly and damp. Agatha tossed another log on the fire and settled in her favorite armchair with a book, her tipple on a side table within easy reach.

She pulled a blanket fashioned from squares of multicolored wool across her lap.

It wasn’t one of the evenings for the shows she was addicted to, so the television remained off.

She had no need of constant background chatter.

She’d just opened the thriller she was reading to her marked page when the phone rang.

She gave a heavy sigh, grumbling as she picked up the receiver.

“Yes, who is it?”

“Aggie, it’s Gregory.”

“Good grief. Were your ears burning? I was just thinking about you.”

“All good thoughts, I hope,” Gregory said. He sounded more subdued than usual.

“Not all.” She chuckled. “When are you heading northward next? Evrain needs you.”

“I talk to him almost every day, Aggie, give me a break. The boy does not need me hanging round his neck. He has to feel his own way, make a few mistakes. Blister his fingertips a few times. It’s all part of the learning process.”

“He’s more likely to burn down half the state than singe an eyebrow, Gregory,” Aggie snapped. “Or maybe flood downtown Portland. Did you know there have been reports on the news about waterspouts appearing on the river there? Was it wise to house him so close to the water?”

“Water spouts are a naturally occurring phenomenon. As are forest fires,” Gregory said dryly. “If he creates a hurricane by mistake, or opens the San Andreas Fault line, give me a call.” He paused. “That’s not why I’m calling.”

“That sounds ominous,” Aggie said. “Is Coryn okay?”

“He’s fine. He sends his love. Look, Aggie, I’ll get to the point. Have you looked at your own aura recently?”

Aggie frowned. “No. I avoid that whenever possible, you know that. I keep an eye on Evrain’s. He’s in love so it’s all glitter and pink sparkles at the moment.”

“Love? With Dominic?”

“Of course. He might not realize it yet, but it’s there. Plain as the nose on my face.”

“That’s fantastic news, you cunning old biddy. You should set up a matchmaking service.”

Aggie preened even though Gregory couldn’t see her. “I know, Dominic has such a calm center, he’s perfect for Evrain. But what does my aura have to do with anything?”

“I don’t want to worry you, but I’ve been hearing a few unpleasant rumors on the grapevine. Make sure your wards are up to date.”

“That might warn me about magical interference, Gregory, but it won’t do me any good if something more malevolent is heading my way. My charms are no defense against the kind of power Symeon could bring to bear if he chose. What have you heard?”

“A lot of gossip about Evrain. He’s famous in certain circles—the covens in particular. I think Symeon Malus has been engaged in some kind of campaign. He’s spreading rumors about how powerful, and how dangerous, Evrain is. He’s creating enemies for Evrain, sowing the seeds of discord.”

“Bah,” Aggie scoffed. “Witches love a scandal. So long as Evrain doesn’t start throwing his weight around, he’ll soon become yesterday’s news. I still don’t get what this has to do with me.”

Gregory sighed. “The easiest way to weaken an untrained warlock is to remove his safety nets. Those are you, me and now Dominic. I’m not in much danger. It will be a cold day in hell when Symeon gets the better of me.”

“But I’m vulnerable. Dominic even more so.” Aggie scrunched her brow into a frown. “I’ll have to talk to Evrain about that. It’s a shame, I would have liked to keep him shielded from this kind of thing a while longer yet.”

“Which I imagine Symeon will guess and want to use to his advantage. He’ll try to get Evrain into a position where teaming up will seem like a favorable option.

To do that he needs to get people out of the way who will advise him otherwise.

It wouldn’t surprise me if Symeon has already been in touch. Has Evrain said anything?”

“No, he hasn’t.” Agatha stared into the flames. “There’s no messing with fate, Gregory. If my time is here, then there’s little I can do about it.”

“Just be careful, okay? Lock your damn door for once, old woman.”

“I’ll give you old… You watch yourself too, Gregory. Keep Coryn close.”

“Always.” Gregory rang off.

Aggie put her book aside, unable to concentrate.

The words just ran together on the page.

She stood, pulled the blanket around her shoulders.

She collected a letter opener—solid silver, it might provide a useful form of defense—then went outside.

It was a clear night—no moon, but plenty of stars sparkled like glitter across a dark velvet cloth.

A light breeze rustled the surrounding trees.

Agatha raised her hand and focused on it, searching for the colors of her aura.

They had faded over time, shades of green muted rather than vibrant.

The colors were comfortable, familiar. When she was sick, there were threads of gray.

Love had woven warm rose and fuchsia through the green.

Now she saw only darkness. Black with streaks of blood red.

“Soon then.” She sighed and gazed at the night sky.

“Sooner than I would have liked.” A wave of dizziness passed over her.

She leaned on the garden gate letting the sensation pass.

A twig snapped. Agatha realized she wasn’t alone.

She stood listening to the sounds of the night, familiar but not quite right.

A chill crept up her spine. She froze in place, scanning her surroundings, seeking any sign of another presence.

If someone were there, he or she was probably watching.

Waiting. She took a few steps back toward the cabin then stopped to listen again. Her heart pounded.

Get inside, stupid old woman. She backed toward the door, taking small, silent steps.

In the distance a shadow separated from the trees, the rough outline of a figure revealing itself.

The figure approached steadily. Agatha realized that the light from the open door behind her would show her shape just as surely as if it had been broad daylight.

She pulled the door closed, choosing to meet her assailant in the open air.

There was no point in running. No time to get to the phone and call for help —little good that it would do.

The cabin was too remote for assistance to arrive with any speed.

Certainly not fast enough to help her now.

She tightened her fingers around the handle of the letter opener. It wouldn’t save her, but if she could draw blood, leave a clue for investigators to follow, then she would. She gripped her weapon in both hands and dropped to a slight crouch. There was nowhere left to go, nothing to do but wait.

The dark figure reached the gate, growing larger.

It didn’t open the gate or vault it—the thing came through the gate.

Agatha could see now that it was formed from mud or clay.

Not a man but a monster. This had to be Symeon Malus’ work.

In the seconds she had left, she realized that Symeon could not be working alone.

This evil sorcery was not the work of one man—she could smell the witchcraft animating the creature.

It came at her at a lumbering run. She held up the silver knife, knowing that it would be useless.