He raised an eyebrow and glanced at his watch. "Two hours to fill in before we have to prepare for the ceremony. We could go eat those strawberries I prepared." He hesitated, shifting slightly, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Or we could lie here and talk a bit more."
He slid inside her, hot and hard. She raised an eyebrow, amazed that he could be ready again so soon—amazed that she could be. "Talking suits me just fine," she murmured, wrapping her legs around his so that he couldn't escape.
His smile shimmered through her heart. He kissed her, his mouth gently demanding. From that moment on, there wasn't a lot of conversation to be had, and she didn't give a damn.
Doyle crossed his arms, watching Kirby dribble the blessed water around the confines of the circle they'd marked out earlier. He wished he could help her with this spell, be with her inside the circle, but Helen's note had been quite clear on this one point. No one but Kirby was to enter the protective circle.
It worried him. He had no doubt this spell was dangerous, which was why he was taking as many precautions as he could. But the best way of protecting her was to be with her, helping with the spell, sharing his energy with her and watching for dangers. With that option gone, he was left with little more to do than prowl around the outside of the circle and give instructions.
She poured the last of the blessed water, then glanced up. "What now?"
"The blessed salt. Do exactly the same thing as you did with the water."
She nodded and walked around again, sprinkling the salt over the ground. The wind caught at her nightdress, twisting it around her bare legs. Even though the moon was lost to the clouds and provided very little light, the outline of her body was visible through the sheer material. He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. While he understood the need for her to be wearing something special, something clean and new, for the spell, he wished it had been anything else but the nightie. She looked too vulnerable. Too desirable. It could attract the wrong sort of attention just as easily as the right.
Overhead, thunder rumbled, an ominous sound in the night's silence. He glanced at his watch. Helen's note said to be ready by midnight. It was three minutes to.
"Done."
He met her gaze, saw the fear lurking deep in the depths of her eyes. Wished he could hold her.
Comfort her. "Good. Now sit in the middle and take several deep, calming breaths."
She did, crossing her legs, her arms resting on her knees, palms up, as if meditating.
"Now, I want you to raise your body energy by tightening your muscles. Start at your toes, and work your way up. Imagine the energy as a purple mist… squeeze it up through your body until it reaches your hands."
He hesitated, waiting. Saw her slowly tense, felt the thrum of magic beginning to pulse through the air.
Midnight was a minute away. They didn't have much time. "Now, without moving, send that energy out through your fingers and in a clockwise circle around you. Imagine yourself encased in an orb of purple fire. Feel the power of it pulsing through you and out into the night."
The air shimmered, crackling with energy. Overhead, thunder ripped. Lightning forked across the skies, briefly turning night into day and electrifying the air around them.
"Now, repeat the spell exactly as Helen wrote it."
She began murmuring. Light flared across the night again, faster, closer than before. He frowned, looking skyward. He didn't like the feel of this.
Lightning split the night and crashed to the ground. Energy rippled through the earth, tingling through his boots and up his legs. Not energy from the fast approaching storm, but from Kirby, from the spell she was murmuring. He clenched his fists and prowled around the circle, needing to move, to do something to ease the fear sitting like a weight in his gut.
Thunder rumbled again, a deep, dangerous sound. The wind became sharper, stronger, tugging at his coat, thrusting like ice against his skin. Kirby sat in a sea of calm, the circle untouched by the rising wind.
But the sense of power was building, burning across his skin, flaring across the night, reaching for the storm-held skies.
He thrust his hand into his pocket, wrapping his fingers around the silver knife hidden there. If all hell broke loose, it might be his only hope of protecting her. Silver was immune to magic—and it was the one weapon that could slice through the circle's protection.
Light leapt upward, following the trail of energy. The skies answered its call. Rain lashed downward, needle sharp and drenching. Water plastered his hair, ran like a river down his back. He ignored it, watching her, waiting.
Thunder rumbled again, long and hard. Lightning clapped, and the air shook at its fury. Energy streaked across the night and splintered into two, one jagged finger leaping back up into the fury of the clouds, the other arcing downward, towards the ground. Toward her. No! He stepped forward, but before he could do anything more, the fork of lighting crashed into the circle, through Kirby, and exploded into the earth.
The force of the blast lifted him off his feet and thrust him back. He hit the ground with a grunt of pain, for an instant seeing stars. He coughed, barely able to breathe, fear clenching his gut tight. What if he'd been wrong? What if this spell hadn't come from Helen, but from the witch who was trying to kill her?
I can't lose her now.He thrust to his feet, then stopped, stunned. She wasn't even hurt. She was still sitting in the circle, but her arms were spread wide, as if greeting the electricity that played around her—through her. Another bolt arced down from the skies, splitting as it neared her outstretched hands, running across her fingers, her skin, until her whole body seemed to glow with the storm's heat.
The air screamed around him. Rain lashed him, lashed her, shredding her night dress and pounding against her pale skin. Red welts rose then just as quickly faded, but she didn't seem to notice—didn't even flinch. Her gaze was still skyward, as if entranced by the fiery light that danced through her. He tried to touch her mind, wanting to be sure she was okay. The wall of power that met him pushed him off his feet and near blew his senses.
He struggled up again. The thunder rumbled, a muted sound that quickly faded. A heartbeat later, the rain and wind also died, and the sudden silence felt almost eerie. Kirby was still sitting cross-legged in the circle, but she was slumped forward, as if all her energy had been sapped by the force of the storm.
He walked over to her. Energy tingled across his skin, a warning that the protection of the circle was still in place. He stopped at the perimeter, not wanting to enter unless it was absolutely necessary. He could hurt her if he did.
"Kirby?"
She stirred and rubbed her arms, groaned softly, then looked up. Her eyes were no longer entirely green, but ringed by a smoky silver band, as if the lightning had branded her. "God, everything is aching."
He wasn't surprised. After being hit by so much lightning, it was a wonder she was even alive. He clenched his fingers, wanting to touch her, hold her, make sure she was really okay. She looked okay—beyond her eyes, she looked amazingly untouched. But he still had to be sure.
"You have to close the circle. Imagine that orb again. Feel it, then draw its power back through your fingertips and down into you body. Relax with it."
She took a deep breath, and resumed her meditation position. After a few minutes, the tingling sensation of power died. She opened her eyes. "Now the broom?"
He nodded. She grabbed the broom lying on the ground behind her, then pushed upright, her movements unsteady. He flexed his fingers, watching impatiently as she slowly brushed at the salt that defined the confines of the circle. It was a symbolic gesture more than a necessary one, a way of grounding her spirit back to the Earth after the spell's force. When the last of the salt had been swept away, he entered the circle, taking off his coat and quickly wrapping it around her. She huddled into it, body trembling and lips blue with cold.