"Why didn't they just kill her?" MacRieve asked. Naturally, that would be his first instinct.

"They can't. All three are witches at heart, and it's impossible for one of our kind to kill a member of her own family. And others have failed to take her out because Häxa is still extremely powerful - she feeds on misery, seeding it in others, then harvesting it." It was even rumored that she kept living beings in her lair, frozen in eternal agony, feeding off their misery forever.

"What does she look like?" MacRieve quickly asked.

"She can assume the form of anything, or anyone, living or dead. No one knows her true face. She could be any one of us... " - Mari made her voice theatrically ominous - "and we'd never know it."

"How does she choose her victims?" MacRieve asked impatiently.

"There's no discernible pattern. She'll strike out against a despot as easily as an innocent farm girl."

MacRieve seemed to mull this answer for long moments, then he said, "Is it true you witches will no' heal others without payment?"

She should have known MacRieve would cut straight to the heart of why witches could never gain the respect of other Lorekind. She swallowed, then admitted, "Mostly, it's... true." As expected, everyone grew quiet. "But you have to understand why." MacRieve raised his brows as if he couldn't wait to hear this. "A thousand years ago, witches gave freely, over and over, but we were always ultimately persecuted for it. My ancestors concluded that our kind needed the protection and clout that money could buy. The bottom line is that witches who live in mansions and have the ear of kings don't get burned to death as often as those who live in toadstool hovels at the edge of the forest."

MacRieve's expression was inscrutable, and she couldn't get a sense of what the others were thinking either. Should she try to convince them of the witches' plight? To point out that no other faction in the Lore was as persecuted as they'd been?

The opportunity was lost when the brush grew thick again. Conversation became difficult, which left her free to experiment more with the mirror.

She opened the compact in her roomy pants pocket. Merely touching the glass seemed to give her focus. Mari had long learned all the spells expected of her but had never been able to utilize them. Could she now, with the help of a focusing tool?

As she slowly rubbed her thumb in circles on the glass, magick rose up in her hand, but now it felt centered, concentrated. The mirror did in fact conduct her powers, steering them, almost like a ground wire for electricity.

While she was enjoying this heady control, she decided to test a few minor spells on the werewolf - because it would be good practice, and by good practice she meant amusing for her.

She caused a root to hike up directly in front of his feet. When he tripped, she folded her lips in, biting back a laugh.

Magick... good.

For the next hour, whenever his boots came untied just in time for the laces to collect bullet ants, or limbs whacked him across the face, or he scarcely dodged bird and monkey droppings, he always regarded her with narrow-eyed suspicion. She would casually glance over at him with a "Whaa... ?" expression.

But he hadn't said anything, and as for her, well, she could do this all day -

Out of the corner of her eye she spied movement. What looked like a vine suddenly uncoiled from the ground and came flying toward her. With a shriek, she attempted a pulse of energy to ward it off. But MacRieve had already snatched the snake; her magick caught him and sent him flying, his body crashing through the brush, felling the trees in his way.

After landing one hundred feet away and angrily tossing the snake, he shot to his feet, charging back to her, eyes ice blue with fury. "Goddamn it, witch, no' again!"

27

It was an accident!" the witch cried, and she might have been truthful, but Bowe was beyond caring.

"All morning you've toyed with me, have you no'?" He stalked closer to her, letting her see a good glimpse of the beast within.

Yet after swallowing loudly and retreating several steps, she seemed to force herself to stand her ground.

He was dumbfounded that she wasn't cowering. Battle hardened vampires recoiled in the face of a Lykae's werewolf form, but she'd planted her boots, and she hadn't budged.

She even raised her chin.

Cade had started hurrying down the embankment as if to protect her. The very idea made Bowe draw his lips back from his fangs. No doubt thinking his renewed fury was for her, she pulled magick into her hands.

Raising both of her glowing palms, she beckoned him with wiggling fingers. "Come on, then. I'll go another round. Though by now even an amoeba would've learned not to with me."

Everyone grew still, silent. Then Cade started back down for her, redoubling his speed.

"No, Cade, I've got this," she said evenly, never looking away from Bowe.

Meanwhile, Bowe had subtly pulled his head back, feeling as if he'd just been presented with a species of creature he had never seen. Then he caught Rydstrom's look of amusement - the demon was obviously loving this - and he found himself... grinning. "Kitten's quick to bear those claws, is she no'?"

Rydstrom ruefully shook his head at Bowe, as if sorry for his unavoidable and imminent demise, then got everyone, including a reluctant Cade, moving again.

As Bowe passed Mariketa, he leaned in close. Not bothering to hide his surprise, he murmured to her, "And damn if she does no' have them sunk into me."

Her gray-eyed gaze was wary. He noted that she kept her palms fired up for some time after they continued on.

Even after her blatant show of magick, he felt so proud she'd held her ground that he wanted to stand tall and point her out as his female. That's my lass. Mine. But his heart was also thundering because he realized that in the heat of the full moon, when he was completely turned, she might not run from him. He still intended to get her away from him before this full moon, but for the future...

Excitement burned within him, and he found himself closing in on her and saying, "You're bonny when you're about to strike."

"You would know."

"Come, then, sheathe your claws, kitten. And we'll be friends once more."

"We weren't friends to begin with!"

"You're warming to me. I can tell."

"True. I only throw guys I dig. And don't you dare call me kitten again!"

"You look like one with your wee, pointed ears."

"Are you done?"

"Canna say." He was silent for a few moments, then added, "Think you're the bravest lass I've ever seen. Though I doona care for your using magick against me so readily. Do you enjoy it?"

She seemed to mull this for a moment, then raised her brows. "I do. Besides, I think you need someone to threaten you now and again. To remind the great and powerful Lykae that you're not so unbeatable."

"Aye, I do." He clasped her hand in his. "Sign on."

She pulled out of his grasp. "I don't do temp jobs. And that's all you're offering."

Actually, he'd been reevaluating that stance all morning...

On the trail, she'd never once complained or asked them to slow down, though he could see she was working hard to keep up with inexhaustible immortals. She obviously appreciated that these people were helping her when they didn't have to.

Besides having a bold heart, she made friends handily, with strong bonds. And she seemed to look at everything with wonder and curiosity. He'd noticed that she'd longed to stop several times to investigate some intriguing sight or another. Had it been only the two of them together, with no time limit, he'd have patiently followed as she explored. He knew that some of her wonder was due to her young age, but he believed she'd never grow out of it completely.

Today he'd learned that she didn't proffer blood sacrifices at an altar - always a gratifying detail to learn about a potential mate.

Not to mention that the witch looked like she'd been plucked from his most fevered fantasy of a woman. Hell, she was a waking wet dream.

As if to illustrate his thoughts at that moment, she paused to wind up her hair and knead her neck. Each time she did this, he tensed in anticipation, rubbing his palm over his mouth, knowing she was about to draw up her shirt to wipe sweat from her brow. Once again she did, displaying for him the delicate marking at her back. Just below it, he spied the low edge of her black silk panties, which were visible enough for him to know she wore a thong - even if he hadn't picked it out this morning.

And with that teasing hint of a sight came an unwelcome realization. He was going to traverse the country of Guatemala with a raging cockstand the entire way.

Unless he could get her to relieve him of it.

When they began ascending a particularly steep trail, and she seemed to be flagging, he decided to cup her arse and push her up. Just as he reached for her, she said, "A fine way to lose a paw, MacRieve."

He grinned. "I have, and I doona recommend it."

"Then try keeping them to yourself."

Once they'd arrived at the trailhead, they came across a picturesque gorge. A slow-moving river flowed into terraced, limestone waterfalls. The water was aqua blue and clear.

Mariketa gasped at the sight, then turned to Rydstrom. "Can we stop here?"

He shook his head. "We need to keep going. You still have to make that call in time."

She looked so crestfallen, glancing out over the murky jungle they'd just emerged from, that Bowe found himself telling Rydstrom, "I need to boil water for her for the rest of the day anyway." He surveyed the area but found no dry wood, nor dry ground for that matter. He'd have to go back down into the forest. He scanned for Cade, and when Bowe didn't scent or see him or Tierney, he told Mariketa, "You've as long here as it takes for me to get your water ready."

She smiled brightly - the first real smile she'd ever cast his way.

Oh, bloody hell. She had a bewitching smile. Aye, no shite.

Then she dashed to the water's edge, raising her face to the sun. For three weeks she hadn't felt that light. Because of him. Trying to shake off his regret, he approached Tera. "I'm going to dry ground to make a fire, and I... I would ask you to keep an eye on Mariketa."

"I'll do it, but not as a favor to you," Tera answered shortly. Bowe had noticed the archers weren't as irate with him since they'd heard he hadn't meant to trap them so long. But they weren't eager to be buddies with a Lykae either.

He dropped his pack. "Her towel and belongings are in there if she needs anything." Then he lowered his voice. "But you canna let the witch go anywhere else. Just have her stay by the water. And doona let her touch anything. She'll likely get curious about something and wander off, so you canna take your eyes - "

"Lykae, enough! I won't let her get killed in the time it takes to boil water, okay?"

Mari nearly trembled with excitement. This place was... Eden.

Flowers with blooms as big as plates basked in the sun. Their scarlet and yellow petals were so bright and flawless, they looked fake. Shallow pools cascaded softly down, one after the other. The water was turquoise, and each basin was surrounded by ferns or had islands of flowers dotting it.

She wondered if anyone had ever hoped for an oasis - not from the sun, but of the sun - and then been rewarded like this.

After MacRieve and Rydstrom had started off to make a fire, she and Tera had torn into the pack - Tera for soap and shampoo and a borrowed change of clothes, and Mari for her bathing suit.

Just before she'd lain out in her suit - a black string bikini - she'd had a moment of uncharacteristic wavering. Aside from MacRieve, no one had seen her dressed in so little in years. The triangles on top were narrow, and though the back was not quite a thong, it was close.

And she wasn't exactly svelte.

Before, she'd never been ashamed of the curves most women would aspire to aerobicize away. She'd made a deal with herself her senior year in high school. She'd diet the minute her bikini-clad body failed to stir the shorts of at least one of the hot guys at the beach.

If it ain't broke...

When the sun beckoned, she'd recalled MacRieve's reaction to spying her naked and shucked her towel.

Now as Tera lay out with her hair coated in conditioner, Mari unbraided her own hair, listened to her iPod, and enjoyed rays. In this place, her entire outlook from the morning shifted.

She still couldn't believe she'd been so worried about the prediction. Seek to lock her away? Nothing could hold her! Not an immortal warrior or a tomb of incubi.

Here she was free, when she'd thought she'd die in that place. Soon she'd see her friends again. She'd sing more really bad karaoke with Regin and Carrow at the Cat's Meow - and she'd do it without her cloak. Anonymous, cloaked karaoke just didn't hold the same thrill.

And on this trip, she had accomplished something monumental by taking out the incubi. She might not have won, or even finaled, in the Hie, but when she returned to New Orleans she wouldn't walk, she'd strut.

Everyone had been awaiting? Well, Mari had just annihilated a thousand-year-old source of evil. Boo-yah for the captromancer!

No one could ever take that away from her. She'd destroyed ancient evil; her regret for the incomplete in that Civics 101 class just didn't have the same bite.

Then, the best part of this whole scenario - she'd been paid for it. Many factions in the Lore shared collective property, but the witches were the opposite - everything in the covens was about private ownership. "Share and share alike" might be the Valkyrie's motto, but the witches' was "Mine is mine." Mari was expected to carry her own weight.

Now she would in gold.

She was officially a mystical mercenary, at last an earner in the House. Earlier, she'd rechecked MacRieve's pack just to make sure the headdress was inside, and had frowned to see he'd carefully wrapped it in a towel, as if to keep it protected for her...

Though MacRieve continued to irritate, confuse, and frustrate her, the ego-building fact remained that he was one of the most gorgeous and compelling males she'd ever seen - and he couldn't keep his paws off her.

All morning she'd been treated to the sight of four choice males, and yet, if she fantasized about making love, it was MacRieve's face she saw above her. Last night, she'd gotten a glimpse of what he'd be like as a lover.

He'd be wild.

For Mari, making love to Acton had always been pleasurable, but not earth-shattering. He'd never seemed to get crazed by his desire for her, had never taken her with a furious lust. She'd been happy with him, and she knew that sexual relationships were never perfect, but she had long craved intensity.

Yet would MacRieve be too intense? Immortal males were known to be relentless lovers, but the Lykae were supposed to bite and scratch as well. And MacRieve was huge - in all respects.

Why am I even thinking about this... ?

She hadn't noticed how often she'd been sneaking glances at him until he wasn't available for her viewing purposes. How much longer would he and Rydstrom be?

Big males talking amongst themselves. She would kill to be able to listen in on their conversation -

Wait... She unplugged her earbuds and reached for her compact, easing it open.

Not just to hear it... but to see.

28

"No progress with her, then?" Rydstrom asked as he sat on a boulder sharpening his sword.

Bowe paced beside his feebly growing fire. "None point none, apparently."

"Full moon's tomorrow night."

"Tell me something I doona know." Bowe was strung out from guarding the witch, from trying to keep his hands from her, from mulling what the hell she was to him. And always the shadow of the waxing moon haunted him.

Yet even as he worried for Mariketa's safety, he recognized that she was too full of life to go down easily. The witch was a fighter.

Unfortunately, he'd ensured she viewed him as the enemy.

"I'd wondered why you allowed the company on this trip," Rydstrom said. "I'm not just an extra sword, am I?"

Bowe shook his head. "If we don't get her out of here in time, you have to keep her from me. I will no' have had time to earn her trust or prepare her."

"You think she would run from you?"

"I canna take the chance - "

He stilled when a weird breeze blew, feeling crisp, even here in the jungle. Both he and Rydstrom peered around. Bowe had the sudden uncanny impression that they were being watched.

Rydstrom asked, "Do you see anything out there that I don't?"

"No. And I'd scent anyone who came close." Shaking off the feeling, he resumed his pacing, considering what his path should be. What's my next move with her?

Challenge and kill Cade.

Of course.

"Stop thinking about it," Rydstrom said. "I will not let you kill Cade, so put it from your thoughts."

Bowe narrowed his eyes. "I thought you'd had your mind-reading ability bound along with your tracing."

"Don't have to be a mind reader in this case. Just so you know, if anyone is going to kill my brother, it'll be me. Besides, you don't have only Cade to worry about."

"What does that mean?"

"Mariketa will turn soon," Rydstrom said.

"So?"

"So, she's definitely ready for a mate." Rydstrom scrubbed his chin. "Never have I seen a female so ready."

"Doona speak about her like that!"

He shrugged. "You should have heard Tierney. I've been near her for three weeks - it's getting stronger every day. If you take her back to civilization without some bond between you... other males will seek to steal her from you."

"A bond? I doona see it forthcoming. She despises me." Bowe sank onto a stump. "I used to have it so easy with females." He had no experience with this. For a millennium, a crook of his finger had him anyone he'd wanted. Now he truly had to question if he could win Mariketa over.

"There is a pleasing sort of irony that you actually want a witch, and she doesn't want you back."

"Enjoyin' this, are you, then? She said we're no' compatible, or some such bullshite." He frowned. "Do you know what jangle pop is?" When Rydstrom shook his head, Bowe continued, "And she asked me if I would go back for Mariah."

"Discerning question."

"Whose bloody side are you on?" Bowe asked, but Rydstrom merely hiked his shoulders. "So she asked me, and I told her I... would."

"Ill-advised, Scot."

"That's the way I felt at the time. Should I have lied to her?"

"At the time? Twelve hours later, and it's different? Didn't I tell you to make a decision and stick to it?"

"It's no' that easy. Every time I realize how much I want the witch, I continue to feel disloyal. And I doona want Mariketa to think me disloyal - but then I'm really no' if she's truly Mariah." He raked his fingers through his hair. "One could go crazy thinking about all this."

"Just reason it out. What are the pros and cons with her?"

"Reason! Always with your bloody reason. Do you know what I'm going to enjoy? When you meet your demoness and she shakes to hell your unflappable demeanor. I'm going to laugh when you turn enraged, horns flaring ramrod straight every time she saunters by."

"Noted. Now, begin with the pros."

"Verra well. She's clever, she's brave, and, by all the gods, she's been graced in form. And I'm no' going to apologize for being a typical male - I do want the sexiest female I've ever laid eyes on to be mine. I'll admit that I want her on my arm and in my bed. And I want to be smug over having her desire me, too."

"The cons... "

"Right back to the witchery. Would you no' be a tad unnerved if your female could unleash the force of an atomic bomb whenever she got nettled with you?"

Rydstrom nodded in commiseration, then said, "Take away the fact that she's a witch - "

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