And she came so close to discovering my secret. Anger flooded me, not directed at her, but at the situation. I wanted to tell her the truth more than anything, but Damien’s spell resisted her. Fury pooled in my solar plexus, white-hot. Unbidden, I ejected it as a power ball of energy, which slammed into her, throwing her from my mind.
Now, my chest heaves as I fight for control, and my heart hammers. I’d known she was a witch, but I’d thought she was too young to have much power, and had assumed she was a trainee, concerned with learning the phases of the moon and the Latin names of herbs. I’d been arrogant, and I’d paid the price.
I know Damien was right to ensure that I didn’t give in. This month is a Black Moon, and nothing is as it seems. Tia is missing, and I’m convinced that Persephone’s life—and maybe that of the other Crows—is also in danger.
But now I want her more than ever. Gods in the Higher Realms and all the Otherworlds… I can still feel her astride me, moving on top of me…
Cursing, I get out of the car and stride up to the door of my flat. I go inside, climbing the steps to the first floor. I let myself in, toss my keys on the table by the door, then stand there for a moment, hands on hips.
She’s heated me, like an iron bar in the forge, conjuring up incredible sexual energy between us. I close my eyes, reaching out for her against my better judgment, following those orange tendrils of our auras that weave together like threads in a rug. Distance has no meaning on the astral plane, and I can feel her desire thrumming through me, burning her, consuming us both. The act in the car turned her on, too. It wasn’t all for my benefit. In her bedroom, she’s lying there, aching for me, sliding her hand down her body, between her legs, slipping her fingers into her folds, teasing herself to a climax. Herne’s blood. I think I’m going to burst.
I go through to the bathroom, leave the light off, open the shower door, and turn on the water. By the time I’ve stripped off my clothes, the water is hot, and I step into the cabinet and let the spray pour over me. I dip my head, feeling the rivulets sliding down my back, imagining they are her fingers running over my skin. The light from the waning moon casts the bathroom in silver, taunting me with the power all witches have over men. I’m hard as a rock, and it’s not going away anytime soon.
I take myself in hand, giving long firm strokes that increase in pace as I near my climax. My head is filled with thoughts of Persephone touching herself in her bed, growing swollen and moist as she thinks of me, sweet Goddess, the swell of her breasts, the soft skin of her pale thighs as they part, as she imagines me moving inside her. I can almost hear her ragged breaths as pleasure builds, and then her stifled cries as her body tightens around her fingers.
It takes less than thirty seconds before I come, and my other hand curls into a fist on the tiles, as my body clenches again and again. I picture myself inside her, filling her, her legs wrapped around my waist, moving with me, crying out in the night. I swear, loud and colorful. This woman is going to be the death of me.
When I’m done, I finish showering, dry off, throw on a pair of jogging bottoms and a tee, and go into the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of Glenfiddich over ice, make a huge sandwich with chicken, cheese, ham, and crisps, and take them into the living room.
Then I sit on the sofa and sulk as I eat.
I’ve dug myself into a hole. Persephone is more powerful than I gave her credit for. What if she does what she did in the car again? What if she does it every night? Or while I’m working? Am I going to be able to hold her off every time?
I have a big mouthful of whisky and then groan. I can’t tell Damien. He has every right to say I told you so, and he will, of that I have no doubt. I don’t think I can bear his disapproval.
I pull my laptop over, bring up Skype, and dial Rob and Alex.
I met these guys when I was seventeen. Tristan had taken me under his wing, and he’d told me he ran a youth center that was a bit like a sports club, and suggested I join. Suspicious of anything involving organized activity, convinced I was going to be asked to join the church or some kind of cult, I did so with some reluctance and a great deal of reservation.
What I found was a group of guys of my own age who were throwing themselves into their sport and finding purpose in the physical activity. I’d taken part in sports at school, of course, but because I’d fooled around, I hadn’t been able to focus, and the youth group changed all that. I ended up playing cricket for the county, because I’m tall and proved to be a pretty hot fast bowler, and I also enjoyed football, rugby, and tennis in the summer, and Rob, Alex, and I soon became best mates.
Alex was training to be a paramedic by this point. Rob had joined the Devon and Somerset Fire and Rescue Service. I was taking my Police Constable Degree Apprenticeship, and loving every minute of it. Damien and the other older members of the youth group encouraged the youngsters to help out at local schools and retirement villages, and soon I was settling into a role I’d never thought to find as an honorable, upstanding member of the community.
And then one day Rob let something slip. I asked him what he was up to at the weekend, because it was Halloween, thinking he’d say there was some party or other. Instead, he said, “Doing the forest walk.” I asked him what this was, and both he and Alex glanced at each other before Rob said, “You’ll have to ask Damien.”
I did, curious as to what they were up to, and why I hadn’t been asked. Damien took a long time to answer. Eventually, he said, “Some of us are part of another group.”
“A religious one?” I asked. He tipped his head from side to side. I felt a twinge of disappointment. I wasn’t anti-religion, but I had no interest in spending my Sunday mornings in a cold church, being preached to.
“It’s more like a grown-up boy scouts,” he said, and smiled.
That intrigued me, and I asked if I could come. Eventually, he agreed. Now, I’m convinced that had been his hope all along.
I assumed it would be like a camping trip, a bonding session for the group, who’d play paintball in the forest, then spend the evening playing cards and having a few beers while they told each other ghost stories. There was some of that. But it also turned out to be so much more.
There were fifteen of us, including the older guys who ran the youth group, some middle-aged men I hadn’t met before, and five or six younger guys like myself, a peculiar mixture at first glance. On Saturday, we arrived at the lodge in the middle of the forest at the edge of Dartmoor, which was a large log cabin deep in the woods. It had a couple of dorms with bunk beds, a kitchen, and a big living room with a log fire. We were well into autumn, so the trees were beginning to turn, and I remember the forest floor being a carpet of red and gold.
We started with a game of football in the clearing next to the lodge, a friendly game, which got us all warmed up and talking, then had lunch. After this, Damien announced it was time for a treasure hunt. This puzzled me, and I half expected there to be grinning pumpkin lanterns in the trees and people dressed up in white sheets ready to jump out at us. It wasn’t like that at all.
In groups of three or four, we went off into the woods with a booklet of clues. I went with Rob and Alex, and started to get my first inkling there was something going on beneath the surface of this all-guys adventure weekend.
The clues were in-depth, long poems about nature, folk tales, and even some folk songs. Rob and Alex didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get to the end. With each fresh page, we found a place to sit, and one of them read out the verse, following which we then discussed its meaning. Initially, I remained quiet, confused and unsure, and listened to them talking about the names of trees and flowers, and their symbolic nature in literature and music. I hadn’t realized they knew so much about this kind of stuff.