“Business is booming, I take it?” Hartt set the box down in front of the others, nudging aside a few old tomes.
“No better marketing than word of mouth. A few love spells to the right person, a case of warts on a business or romantic competitor here and there, the odd toxin overdose in an enemy. Before you know it, everyone wants a potion from Rosalind the Great.” The hint of sarcasm in her voice made Mackenzie question the title she had claimed to have, giving her the impression it was something she called herself more than something others called her. “It’s that bloody Atticus’s fault. I swear, you tell a guy to bugger off a few times and then agree to help the persistent bastard, and he repays you by bringing every damned person to your door. I’ve had princesses, paupers, kings, hordes of regular folk and even an angel bothering me. I can’t remember the last time I had a day off.”
The witch waved her hand and a worn green velvet armchair scooted across the floor, stopping close to an old chaise longue. She patted the cracked leather seat of the recliner.
“Sit, sit… I don’t know how long we have before Vail goes Hulk on the vampires.” Rosalind sank into the green armchair.
Mackenzie edged towards the chaise longue and eased down onto it, and was glad when Hartt came to sit beside her.
“Now, let’s get a good look at you. I haven’t met one of your kind before.” Rosalind winked at her, the sort that was meant to reveal she knew a secret and was apparently keeping it, while blatantly telling everyone in the vicinity she knew it. “Which part of you touched him?”
Hartt growled at her. “Word things better.”
Rosalind gave him a sassy smile. “But it’s so much fun to poke the bear.”
“Won’t be much fun if I go back outside and poke your bear.” His lips curled into a slow smile as she scowled at him.
“Fine.” She huffed and tipped her chin up, angling her face away from Hartt and towards Mackenzie. “I’ll play nice.”
She held her hand out to Mackenzie. Mackenzie placed her wrist into it. The witch closed her eyes and muttered something, and Mackenzie stiffened as light chased along Rosalind’s arm beneath her skin, flickering with colour that changed as it moved, as it danced and swirled towards Mackenzie. It took all of her iron will to stop herself from yanking her hand away from the witch’s as she felt the magic growing in the air, as those lights suddenly rose out of Rosalind’s forearm and zoomed towards Mackenzie’s hand.
Hartt clutched her other one, anchoring her, the connection that his touch formed between them enough to have her remaining in place, accepting the magic as it swirled around her hand. As she began to relax, she started to find the tiny sparks of light fascinating, found herself tracking a particularly bright orange one as it danced around her hand, being chased by the others.
Rosalind continued to mutter strange words, her eyes slipping shut as the sense of magic in the air grew thicker.
Tiny pricks of light began to form in the air like motes of dust catching sunlight. They sparkled like stars as they hung in the air, slowly growing brighter until they glowed gold and illuminated the entire room, chasing the shadows back.
Beautiful.
Suddenly, they winked out of existence.
The warmth that had been steadily building in the air evaporated. She swore she felt the cold kiss of wind against her and smelled the tinny scent of snow.
And then it was gone.
Thick silence followed.
The fire crackled and popped, shattering it.
“Well, that’s a turn-up for the books.” Rosalind’s tone was bright, held a note that spoke of both amusement and excitement, and had Mackenzie looking at her. “Turns out my husband will be joining us on this expedition.”
Rosalind’s smile gained a darkness that sent a shiver down Mackenzie’s spine as it revealed a side of the witch she hadn’t realised existed, a side that looked as if it was going to enjoy this hunt.
Her blue eyes sparkled with sharp silver stars.
“Your witch is in the mortal world.”
Chapter 28
When Rosalind had told them that the blood mage was in the mortal world, Hartt had expected they would find him hiding in the heart of a busy city, somewhere he could easily blend in and disappear.
He hadn’t expected to spend four days trekking into a frozen hell somewhere in the remote north of Norway. Reaching the nearest airport in the tiny Alta hadn’t been difficult thanks to Grave’s connections in London. His cousins had given them access to a private jet that had just about handled the frigid temperatures and a somewhat slippery landing.
It had been the closest they could land to the place Rosalind had sensed the witch was hiding, a point she had shown them on an atlas that looked as if it hadn’t been updated in around half a century.
Part of Hartt had hoped it was so old that there was a town where she had located their target now, but Mackenzie had looked it up on something called Google Maps and told him to brace for bitter disappointment.
Bitter was certainly the right word.
He huddled down into the thick winter jacket he had purchased in London before they had left, a black one that could thankfully withstand the cutting wind that scoured the bleak white landscape and battered him. It wasn’t the only layer he was wearing. A heavy woollen jumper and a thermal layer sat beneath his coat, and he had donned something called salopettes, black ones that the store clerk had assured him went with the jacket and would protect him down to a temperature that Hartt had thought adequate enough at the time.
Now, he felt it was nowhere near close enough to the level of protection he needed.
His feet were frozen in the heavy waterproof and insulated boots he wore, his fingers numbed despite the gloves that protected them, and his face felt as if the wind was attempting to flay the skin off it.
Hartt buried his nose into his scarf, tugged his woollen hat down to his eyebrows and his hood up higher, trying to stop the cold from invading.
Mackenzie looked as cold as he felt as she shifted foot to foot beside him, the snow the wind whipped up spotting her black clothing and her gloves as she peered through a pair of binoculars.
He lifted his head as he wrapped his arms around himself and fixed his gaze on the warm light that glowed faintly in the distance, near the base of a towering cragged mountain bathed in moonlight.
His breath fogged on the air as he stilled.
Incredible, colourful light danced above the mountain, shimmering shafts of green, blue and red that sent a chill running over his arms and down his spine.
“Wow,” Mackenzie breathed as she lowered her binoculars to take in the display nature was putting on for them. “That’s something. Almost makes freezing my tits off worth it.”
He chuckled at her. “Almost. I’m not sure when I last saw my balls though. I believe they are currently somewhere near my kidneys.”
Her soft giggle warmed him. “I can help you find them later if you want.”
Gods, as much as he wanted to take her up on that, he wasn’t sure he would ever defrost enough to want sex, not while they were stuck in this arctic hell.
He shuddered as another blast of dangerously cold wind buffeted him and seemed to find cracks in his clothing to slip icy fingers inside.
“Oh, gods, I take it back. I hate the cold. It’s worse than rain.” Mackenzie shivered and he felt bad for her as she pouted. “I can run hot, but not hot enough to counteract this if I want to keep my clothing intact. I don’t want to lose my precious clothing. I’m not getting out of these things once while we’re here.”