****
Across town, elevator doors opened onto the top floor of an apartment building with views of the Seattle skyline, Puget Sound and the Space Needle. The faint pungent odor of sage hung in the hallway as Renegade directed Rowan to follow him. The sage confirmed Morgan’s presence and brought back bittersweet memories.
When he and Morgan had lived together secretly, knowing that their relationship was forbidden, she was in the habit of burning sage. She said it was to clear the room of unfriendly spirits, or the possible negative thoughts left behind by previous guests. He suspected she also laced the sage with protection spells.
Even setting aside that they’d ignored the Talons’ and the Grey Council’s ruling that Wizards were forbidden to have long-term relationships, he should have known any kind of Happily Ever After scenario was doomed from the beginning. A FireWizard’s purpose was to serve and destroy. A Water Wizard healed and brought life into the world.
At the end of a long corridor, the door was flung wide and a cloud of sage-filled smoke pushed against him. And, right on cue, the brand over his heart flamed against his skin. He bit off a litany of curse words.
As soon as Stryker was well, he’d figure out a way to have it removed. He knew he was as much to blame as she was for the brand. It only happened with the full consent of both parties, which only made him more frustrated.
Spells on Bealtaine freed the barriers of the subconscious, allowing Wizards to follow their hearts.
He swore under his breath. Bloody hell. Why now and not all those years ago when they were young? The timing was terrible. Fate had a twisted sense of humor.
Maybe Lyons was right when he’d suggested Rowan was “besotted” with Morgan. No, that still wasn’t the right word. “Obsessed”—now, that was a word.
“The room is prepared,” Morgan whispered, interrupting his train of thought. “Please lay your brother on the bed in the room closest to the kitchen and AJ in the second bedroom.”
Thankfully, the brand calmed to a mildly annoying throb as Rowan did what she asked. He stepped out of the way. Letting her take over Stryker’s care was a relief. If anyone could bring him back, it was Morgan. She was able to wake Stryker enough to give him a drink of something purple and bubbly. She gave AJ a different concoction with pink and grey chunks.
Rowan rubbed his nose and moved to open the window. “What is that stuff? It smells like rotting garbage.”
She brushed hair off Stryker’s forehead, ignoring his comment. “I suspect the poison your brother was exposed to at his home on Bainbridge is the same that was used at The Inferno and on the Wizards who died recently.”
Rowan felt helpless as he stared down on his brother and forced out the words he’d been afraid to say out loud until now. “Will he live?” He could hear the anger in his voice and the bone-chilling fear.
Morgan dipped a wet rag and bathed Stryker’s forehead. “The antidote has never been tested, and I cannot be sure if there are any side effects.” Her hand trembled as she pulled the blanket over Stryker’s shoulders. “One more thing. If I’m right, the poison used is fatal. Your brother shouldn’t be alive.” She held Rowan’s gaze. “I know this question is harsh. But I must ask. Do you have any idea how he managed to survive?”
Rowan clenched his jaw to fight back old fears involving legends, myths, and dragon possession. Until he had proof, he didn’t want to voice his fear out loud, even to Morgan. When they were children, Stryker had repeatedly returned to the cave where they first thought they had found dragon eggs.
One day, Stryker told him they’d hatched. At the time, Rowan didn’t want to believe his brother and dismissed his claim. If it were true, however, and Stryker had witnessed the birth of dragons, they would have imprinted on him. Such an honor had a reward as well as a cost.
Rowan cleared his throat. “A theory, but I’d rather not say until I’m sure. How did you know my brother was in danger?”
She whispered a few words that sounded like the form of an ancient Celtic prayer and sprinkled dried herbs over Stryker’s eyes. When she’d finished, she laced her fingers together, her gaze locked on Stryker. “I’m not your garden-variety female Wizard and healer, Rowan. As you know, I’m also a seer. Or did you forget?”
Her voice sounded strained, and he knew it stemmed from her frustration and worry over Stryker’s safety.
“No, I didn’t forget.” He’d forgotten a lot of things, but not that. “Why didn’t you contact me? Warn me?” His voice was now the one that was strained, and he was as mad as hell.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Stryker played by the rules, most of them anyway, and kept under the radar. Rowan was the one who was always pissing someone off. He balled his hands into tight fists to keep from tearing the place apart or setting something on fire.
She turned toward him, and her expression held deep concern and something he refused to identify. “I tried to warn you, but your mind was closed to me. All I could discern was that your brother was in danger, but not when, why, how or from whom. That is why I called him and told him to meet me at The Inferno.”
She moved to light a white candle on the table beside Stryker.
“Morgan?”
“Yes. It is very serious. Stryker is so cold. I’m worried. He’s not responding the way I’d hoped.”
Rowan’s knees buckled. He kept his balance only with iron will power. He had pinned his hopes on Morgan finding a cure. “What can I do?”
“Go back to your brother’s home and see what you can find out. Maybe there’s an empty glass container left behind that will confirm the poison.”
“Stryker can’t die,” Rowan said, his voice deepening. “He’s a Wizard.”
Morgan was beside him, her gentle hand on his arm, the expression in her eyes begging him to remain calm. Her touch almost undid his resolve to stay strong and detached. He wanted to take her in his arms, let her comfort him, listen to the lies that his brother would live, but he held back.
