Suddenly, like the flip of a switch, the storm subsided to a gentle breeze. The army of the sea slipped into the water as Vlad’s ship retreated, leaving only silence in its wake.
Shouts of victory crashed through the silence and flowed through the female Wizards.
“Our strength has defeated them,” said one.
“We are safe now,” said another.
Morgan held her hand up to silence them, keeping a watchful eye on the sky. “The Air Wizards have pulled back their attack. But why?” Morgan’s voice was strong and unwavering. “Be vigilant, my sisters. Our journey has not ended.”
****
After the Air Wizards’ retreat, their journey under the protection of the water goddesses had held. For the remainder of the voyage to Seattle’s inner harbor, the storm had passed and the sea remained calm, as though a reward for winning the battle.
Morgan stood at the railing as a ferryboat cruised past. Its passengers waved toward her from its deck as it headed for one of the over-one-hundred named islands and reefs in the San Juans. It struck Morgan that those people went about their daily lives unaware of the possibility of a war pending between Wizards and the magical community, a war that would forever disrupt the humans’ way of life.
Gripping the rail at this serious thought, she watched the Seattle skyline rise before her with its iconic Space Needle. The city was a unique blend of financial centers and condominiums with garden rooftops, all folded around Pioneer Square and the well-known Pike Place Market. On the waterfront, piers werecrowded with cargo ships bound for the Pacific and cruise ships loaded with tourists headed to Alaska.
Morgan closed her eyes and drank in the power of the water as Vlad’s yacht headed in the direction of the Ballard Locks, which connected Puget Sound with Lake Washington, where Cassandra promised they would be safe. She let her mind drift with the salt-sea breeze, knowing that once they reached their destination there would be precious time for herself. She was the leader of the female Wizards, and with the honor went great responsibility.
Morgan had no reason to doubt Cassandra’s belief that the place she mentioned would be safe, but it was foolish to underestimate the determination of the Wizards to find them. One in particular came to mind as the yacht navigated the locks.
She pressed her hand over Rowan’s brand, feeling a deep sense of regret for deceiving him. She’d had no choice, she reasoned. He was the Grey Council’s most trusted Wizard. She had little doubt that he would have sided with Vlad.
A few nautical miles from the locks, mist rose from the depths of Lake Washington and shrouded their yacht. Cassandra emerged from below deck to take her place. She stood on the bow as the yacht glided toward a tree-lined shore. When she raised her arms, the trees parted, exposing a secluded inland waterway. Once inside the safety of the canal, the trees folded back in place behind them and exposed before them a world of enchantment.
Unicorns peeked out from behind giant cedar trees, dragons the size of hummingbirds played hide-and-seek with winged fairies, and beds of wildflowers cascaded down stone walls or wound around trellises.
A collective sigh of gratitude, acknowledging the beauty after the hours of uncertainty, settled over the yacht.
Morgan took a deep breath. It was different here. It smelled like second chances.
A few of her sister Wizards joined her on deck, each keeping their thoughts private, but from their expressions, Morgan felt they shared her concern. They were safe. For now.
Chapter Twelve
Rowan awoke with a start. Someone needed his help. In his dream an impenetrable barrier separated him from a female Wizard who was under attack. He felt he should know her. He remembered pounding on the barrier but no one would let him in. A blinding headache blocked out the nightmare.
He clenched his jaw against the pain and then he sensed a shift in the air. A male had just entered his tent. The energy surrounding a male Wizard felt darker and heavier than a female’s. Rowan feigned sleep, trying to ignore the throbbing in his temples, stalling for time while his body regained its strength. The remnants of last night’s magic and lovemaking clung to his body like a hangover. Spells and the intoxicating woman were a deadly combination. No wonder he was having bad dreams.
Dawn’s grey light filtered through the tent, reflecting his mood. The place where the female Wizard had lain beside him last night was stone-cold, adding to his foul mood. Despite the passion they shared, she'd left without a word of farewell. The connection between them had been strong. That much he remembered. He’d thought that would be enough to keep her beside him for another night. He swore under his breath. He’d been wrong, of course.
For as long as he lived, he’d never understand women.
Bad timing on the part of the intruder. Good news for Rowan. He could take out his frustration on the fool who’d invaded his space. It was Bealtaine. No one entered a male Wizard’s domain without his permission, and whatever punishment Rowan delivered would be excused as justified.
Ready to crack the man’s jaw, he rose from the bed. “Show yourself,” he commanded.
A young man, dressed in a faded tunic and breeches, quivered near the entrance. “It’s Declan, sir. I was told to find you.”
With an effort, Rowan tamped down his desire to fight. The intruder was just a stupid boy. Rowan rubbed his temples. Justified or not, beating an innocent into a bloody pulp was something he didn’t do anymore. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you.”
“Yes, sir—I mean, thank you, sir.”
Rowan retrieved his clothes from the floor and dressed. There could be any number of reasons why this lad was sent to find him. None of them good. He lit a candle. Where the hell had he tossed his boots?
He found one under a floor pillow and the other in a corner of the tent. The young man stood exactly in the same place he’d been when Rowan first addressed him, as though afraid to move. Maybe not so dumb after all. Waking a sleeping Wizard was never a good idea.
Rowan shoved his boots on and brought the candle closer to Declan. Judging from the smooth face, Rowan guessed the boy was about twelve or thirteen years old. Too young for his true nature and powers to be determined with any certainty.
