Invoked Page 15

  Uprisings, like those that had been happening in Europe, could happen here. Australia, the protected, distant backwater was likely to be thrust into the forefront of a magical battle for supremacy. Human and folk were not going to be spared.

  With a wipe at her tears and a large intake of breath, Nea opened the door to the large living room that served as a council chamber. A number of councillors stood around, glancing nervously at each other. The air was tense, power was hidden away, and when she faced them all, eyes were cast down. Her gaze fell on Gregor sitting in his customary armchair. She almost grinned at seeing him there like his old self, brimming with power and authority. A stern look from him checked her desire to throw her arms around his neck and weep with the joy of it.

  ‘Took you long enough,’ Gregor said with a grunt and a lift of his head.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m glad to see you, too.’ She wanted to call him Grandpa just to niggle at the hard, glowering façade he wore, but that wouldn’t help his feelings of unworthiness.

  ‘Don’t try to bamboozle me, Bethanea Royston. You’ve been consorting with a dark one and that’s a serious crime for one of the coven, my granddaughter or no.’

  ‘A dark one? What are you talking about? I went out with Drew at your instigation.’

  ‘I’m not talking about Drew Penderton. I’m talking about Earl Pressonville, the dark one you’ve had in your bed.’

  Nea bristled at the anger and the accusation in his voice. She tried catching Hilda’s eye but the witch, who stood to the right of Gregor, kept her gaze on the floor. What would Gregor say about his lover hiding the said dark one in her cottage?

  Nea sucked in a breath and tossed her head back, fixing Gregor with her gaze, a trick he often did to others. ‘Earl Pressonville is not a dark one. Nor was he ever one, not truly. He dabbled, yes. He did things he has atoned for. You can’t punish him forever.’

  ‘What do you know but what he’s told you? He has warped your mind with sex, with his dark arts.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware that sex was a dark art.’

  There was a murmur amongst the gathered council.

  ‘I never took you for a smart arse, Nea. This is serious. Very serious. You will have to be examined.’

  Nea blinked. ‘Examined?’

  ‘Yes, three councillors will probe you to ensure you haven’t been touched by the dark. There will be pain.’ Gregor’s white brows lowered over his piercing blue eyes.

  Nea didn’t like that one bit. ‘I am not touched by the dark and neither is Earl. Go ahead. Examine me.’

  Gregor lifted his head. ‘If that’s the case, why isn’t he here defending himself, defending you?’

  There was movement behind Nea, but she kept her gaze steady on her grandfather, dismayed by the lack of warmth she could read in him. Her gaze sought Hilda’s again but the woman was looking past her, her jaw dropping.

  ‘I am here to defend myself. Nea has nothing to answer for.’

  Nea closed her eyes, his voice tingling against her skin. It was bliss to hear him speak. His real voice resonated within her soul. But he wasn’t meant to come. They’d agreed.

  She swung around. ‘You aren’t meant to be here.’ She let that slip. In their time apart she had urged him to stay away from the judgement, from Gregor’s wrath. He hadn’t listened to her pleadings. He had ignored her notes.

  Earl was dressed in jeans, with a white T-shirt and grey sweater. She was amazed how ordinary clothes suited him. How he’d created that body was still a mystery to her, but she loved every inch of it. He assured her that it was himself, as he used to be.

  It was so hard not to throw herself into his arms at that moment. She clenched her hands until her fingernails imprinted in her palm. It was essential to remain composed.

  Earl’s eyes left Gregor, who’d stiffened and sat up straighter in his chair, and then settled on her. The light from the window emphasised the green flecks in his eyes and then he turned his head slightly, making his irises look dark again. ‘I couldn’t stay away, Nea. Not when you were in danger. I can defend myself. I’m ready to face judgement.’ To Gregor and the assembled council, he said, ‘Nea was not exposed to the dark through me. If you have another reader in your midst, you will find that. There is no need to examine her. That’s too drastic. She has done nothing to warrant that. Me, on the other hand? I’m ready to face an examination. I want you to know it all. I want to repent of my wrongdoings and face your judgement.’

  Gregor harrumphed, then lifted his head to stare at Earl, his blue eyes bright. He cupped his chin with his hand, the fingers brushing the bandage that hid his stitches. ‘You look the same as you did then,’ he said quietly, and Nea could tell her grandfather was remembering the past. ‘It’s hard to believe that you are here now. You want us to believe you are without taint, that you shouldn’t be punished for what you did all those years ago?’

  ‘I don’t expect you to forgive, Gregor. That was never in your nature. But I do expect you to give me a chance to redeem myself. I expect you to provide me with a path to forgiveness so I can be with your granddaughter, Bethanea.’

  Gregor’s hand clenched the arm of his chair. Then he lifted it and slapped it down hard. ‘Never.’

  ‘Grandpa, please. I don’t know what happened when you were younger. I don’t know the exact details what Earl did before Pris ended him, but I’m a reader. You’ve trusted me before. I’m telling you he has suffered greatly. He has, over time, repented and sorrowed for his past mistakes. You should also take into account that he saved me, saved me from certain death. I could be like he was—alive but not dead, or just plain dead. Others have died at the dark witch’s hands. Earl cannot explain why he lived when others didn’t.’

  She took a step forward, moving her gaze from Gregor to Earl. ‘But there must be a reason, something special about him for that to happen. When I first encountered him, there was nothing but misery and suffering. He existed in a place without light and hope, unable to die and unable to live. He said my light woke him up, Grandpa.’ Tears coursed down her cheeks. ‘He was drawn to me, to my lightness. That lightness comes from you. Your blood runs through me. Please don’t turn your back on him, on justice—be open to the possibilities of what Earl represents.

  ‘He took back the power and life that Pris stole from him. He didn’t strike the blow. It wasn’t him. It was Drew who lusted for that power. It was only when my life was in danger did Earl reform himself, taking back what was stolen. It’s remarkable. It’s not evil or dark.’

  ‘Nea.’ Gregor’s voice was low. ‘Enough.’

  ‘No, I can see it’s not enough. If you can’t be impartial, if you can’t … can’t do that … then let someone else do it.’

  ‘Nea,’ he warned.

  ‘Our essences have touched. I have chosen him to be my life mate. If you separate us you might as well kill me.’

  Gregor scoffed. ‘I never took you for fanciful. Always the practical one.’

  ‘I speak the truth as I understand it.’

  He looked her up and down and his gaze flicked to Earl. ‘Enough said now. We will decide later.’

  ‘No, it’s not enough. Earl is a creator, a conjurer. His talent is creating illusion. I know you’ve kept this threat of the rise of the dark ones away from me, but you can’t hide it forever. Earl will be useful as a battlemage. There are so few of us with the ability to fight.’ Nea stepped closer to her grandfather, his eyes not leaving her, and she knelt by his knee as she used to do as a child. She dared not read him, dared not see if her words were having an effect. ‘Please have mercy, Grandpa. Please.’

  Gregor placed his hand on her head as Nea laid her cheek against his knee. While she had not read him, there had been a subtle shift in the tension in his body. The simmering rage seemed to have quietened, although he was by no means at peace.

  Earl stood in the centre of the room, calm, his hands clasped in front of him. Gregor patted her head, stroked her like he did the cat in the evenin
gs. He lifted his head and addressed Earl. ‘So you want to be examined?’

  Earl lifted his chin higher, not breaking eye contact. ‘Yes. The sooner the better.’

  ‘I understand.’

  Nea blinked as she looked around the room. Earl had no one here to vouch for him. Nea could not. She was too involved. Yet, she had to trust that the judgement would be fair. Gregor could not disregard her words, her earnest defence of her lover.

  ‘You have the right to choose your examiners,’ Gregor said. ‘Who do you want?’

  Earl’s shoulders sagged. She reached out tentatively with her talent. He was relieved that he’d gotten that far. Beneath, there was a wealth of emotions riding him. He caught her gaze and nodded. Nea drew back her talent.

  Earl’s gaze travelled around the room. ‘Hilda Ngati,’ he said when he looked to the right of Gregor. He continued to take in the people in the room. To the left, he paused and said, ‘Humphrey Basewater.’ He looked around him casually and shrugged. Then, meeting Gregor’s bright gaze, he added, ‘And you, Gregor Royston.’

  Gregor jerked in surprise. ‘Me? But …’

  Nea nearly fainted. Gregor was not one of the council she thought Earl would choose.

  ‘You were there with me in my youth. You hated me then and you hate me now, I know … but I trust in your sense of right. I know you will judge me fairly. I wouldn’t want to be with your granddaughter if I was not worthy of her.’

  The council members started whispering. Nea was on her feet. ‘No! You can’t do that.’ She whirled. ‘Refuse him, Grandpa, please.’

  ‘I can’t,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I am charged with a duty I must fulfil.’

  Nea lunged at Earl and wrapped her arms around him. ‘I’m afraid, Earl. I’m afraid this will be the last time I hold you.’

  Earl took her by the shoulders and edged her away from him. ‘I’m not afraid, Nea. You gave me something that I’ll cherish beyond the grave. We had something special and no matter what happens, that can’t be taken away.’

  ‘No, no. Don’t say that.’

  ‘Bethanea, you must leave us now. We will begin.’

  At Gregor’s word, those not on the council had to leave the room. Nea was led out. In the hall, she knew she couldn’t be in the house either. She had to leave, had to find a way to distance herself. She was a reader. She’d feel Earl’s pain and she knew the examination would hurt him.

  Around the back of the house, she gazed out onto the lake. The day was bright but slightly windy. The boat rocked against the pier. It was the family launch. She’d take it out for a cruise.

  Hastily checking that all was in order—petrol, flares, life jacket, water, snacks already stacked in the cupboard—she turned the engine over and idled it while she slipped the mooring.

  Chapter Twelve

  Earl watched as the room emptied, leaving him alone with his three examiners. Hilda brought him a chair and gestured for him to take a seat. Earl kept his gaze locked with Gregor’s. He’d taken a risk. There was history between them. To Earl the memories were fresh, but with Gregor he could tell they’d fallen into the cracks and hardened like mud in the old warlock’s mind.

  Breaking eye contact, Earl took a seat. It was wood and its hard edges dug into his skin. It was uncomfortable, and it was marvellous. He had a real, flesh body. Not an imaginary one, not one he’d fashioned out of his talent so he could interact with Nea. A real body that had nerves and hormones and emotions, and all of them were churning inside. He couldn’t stop it or control it. It was painful and it was exhilarating. He was alive. The outcome of this examination could change all that. And still he wouldn’t change a thing. He wouldn’t be who he was if he hadn’t suffered, if Nea’s presence hadn’t touched him, if he hadn’t loved her and been loved in return. While he wanted his life to continue and to share it with Nea, he knew that if he died, if his life was suddenly over, he’d be fulfilled, knowing he had been worthy of her love and also redeemed by saving her.

  Hilda stood in front of him. ‘It has been decided that I will lead this examination. Earl Pressonville, do you consent?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Then open to me.’

  Earl swallowed and his palms grew sweaty. ‘Yes.’ He closed his eyes, dropped all his barriers and took a breath. A wedge slammed into him. He gripped his seat to stop himself from falling. The black wedge pushed further, harder, splitting his mind until he screamed. He could hear those screams in his ears; he could hear them in his memories. They had been there—at the moment of his ending thirty years ago.

  The pain, the despair rose up and was examined. Pris, young then, rutting with him, his blood trailing down his torso as she took from him, grinding her mound on his erection, tendrils of his power snaking out of him as she devoured his essence. He’d barely understood the ritual as the words of her chant had encircled him.

  The wedge drove further in, delving deeper back in time to when he’d first met Pris. Earl had been smitten by her then—the elegant curve of her neck, her long, luxuriant dark hair that cascaded in waves down her back. He’d not been the only one to lust after her physically. Then there was the hard wall of power she projected. You knew it was there, but you couldn’t get a taste of it, just the sense that there was something earth-shattering inside of her.

  In those days, Pris hadn’t lived amongst them. She’d visited from time to time. Glimpses of her were occasional. It was hard to believe she’d been so young when she first appeared among them. One day he’d seen her full with child. He’d been stunned. She didn’t seem the type to want to breed. She was so young, so beautiful and powerful—why would she want to sully her life with a child? He was young and mating, and bringing children into the world was alien to his view of life.

  That had been their first real encounter. ‘You’re spying on me,’ she’d accused him.

  ‘No, not at all. Our meeting is entirely coincidental.’

  ‘Forget you saw me. Tell anyone and I’ll know.’ Then, with a wave of her hand and a harsh whisper, she’d hexed him. He’d been doubled up in agony for nearly a day and then had a nasty rash that lasted two weeks, two weeks of weeping sores and being bedridden, and he too proud to seek a healer to ameliorate the curse.

  Then she went away and he didn’t see her again until a few years later. He’d heard rumours of her, a supposed dark witch. His friend Maxim invited him to the old house. Pris’s place. It was there that he saw her, dressed in her velvet robes of black or crimson, depending on her mood. There he saw her entice the young men. Human, warlock—she cared not.

  Earl wanted her. The grace with which she moved, the smooth white of her hand as she caressed a cheek or ruffled hair was so enticing. It was a spell. The way she liked them to watch while she took her favourite, rode him, bringing them both to climax.

  It was her experimentation with darkness, he thought. Was he responding to a question? Yes, perhaps her descent into darkness. Earl didn’t know. He was on the outer. He looked on, mesmerised as any young man would be when exposed to public sex for the first time.

  He knew humans watched porn, but nothing could match what he saw. Maybe there was a spell on them. He was too ignorant to tell—too transfixed by her beauty and her daring to notice.

  How many were there? The question was asked. There were nine, including Earl. Three humans, all muscles and leather, a few tattoos on chests or backs. The rest were warlocks. Two were from outside the coven. He’d only ever seen them in Pris’s presence. The others were from the coven.

  Who were they?

  Me, Earl Pressonville. Charlie Depson, Wei Chung and Maxim Beauchamp.

  Things went along like that for months and months. Earl was never chosen to be the one she mated with. Charlie told him he’d rutted with her during the week. That he slept in her bed. He told Earl, too, that she was into kink. That she tied him up, beat him and then fucked him senseless. He’d been afraid. It had hurt but it was the best thing ever.

  Earl ha
d been angry with him. Charlie had had what Earl wanted. Earl wanted to be noticed. He wanted to be her special man, her special fuck. Then one day, it happened.

  He shivered at the memory. They came to her place at the usual time. Earl came in last and locked the door behind him. Charlie was trussed to a pole in the centre of the room. He rocked back on his heels. Welts stood out on Charlie’s naked flesh, red cuts leaking blood against his pale flesh. His eyes were blackened and swollen shut.

  Earl had trembled at the sight of him there. Earl knew then that this was no erotic adventure—this was punishment. He knew too that he might be drawn into that. Earl suspected Charlie was not meant to tell him what went on in Pris’s bed.

  Earl remembered her hex about seeing her pregnant. He knew she had the power to know if Charlie spoke of it. Charlie had been full of himself, wanting to rub it in that Earl was on the outside. It was no secret why Earl kept coming back week after week. He wanted to be the one. Earl had climaxed time and time again with visions of Pris in his mind as he dealt with himself by hand.

  ‘You see one who has transgressed. One who has injured me,’ Pris hissed at her audience of followers, her face full of rage.

  Her dark gaze flicked from face to face. Earl thought her gaze lingered on him, but he couldn’t tell for certain. Earl’s heart thumped in his chest. He was guilty. Charlie had spoken to him. Earl had listened. Earl had trespassed.

  ‘Will anyone speak in his defence?’

  There were whispers, but no one volunteered. Earl could not speak. Charlie had spoken to him. How could Earl defend the other warlock? It would bring him her wrath.

  ‘Will anyone damn him with their words?’

  Her eyes were on Earl then, and Earl knew that she knew what had happened. Earl broke eye contact and struggled. Charlie was his friend. Yes, the young warlock had meant to wound Earl, but he understood. Pris was the prize. Charlie wanted Earl to envy him.