Meet the Coven Enforcers. Mysterious. Dangerous. They Live to Fight Dark Power.
Blood
and IllusionAnn Gimpel Books, LLC
Dream Shadow Press
68K wordsGenre: Historical paranormal romance with an Old Western edge
Coven Enforcers = Dark, Dangerous, Magical Men
Coven Witches bow to no one—least of all Enforcers.
Sparks ignite. Tempers run high. Passion explodes. Hot. Sweet. Impossible to ignore....
Coven Witches bow to no one—least of all Enforcers.
Sparks ignite. Tempers run high. Passion explodes. Hot. Sweet. Impossible to ignore....
Not
all witches join the Coven. Fiercely independent, Isla heads up her own small
band in the San Francisco area. She’s never needed help before, but dark
sorcerers drive her and her group into hiding, trapping them.
Sam’s
worked for the Coven as one of their enforcers forever. He’s been there so
long, the Coven is the only mistress he knows. It’s a lonely life on the road
thwarting wickedness and Black Magick with his guns, his magic, and his horse,
but it’s been enough to satisfy him. Until now.
A
group of witches is in deep trouble. They’re not part of the Coven, but Sam is
sworn to protect all witches and he rides to their assistance with several of
his brothers. Nothing prepares him for the outspoken spitfire who ends up
riding double with him. She’s forthright, opinionated, and downright hostile,
but he’s drawn to her self-sufficiency—and her undeniable beauty. Soon, Isla is
all he can think about.
Dark
forces are on the move. Protecting the woman he’s falling in love with is at
the very top of Sam’s list. If they manage to survive, he’ll tame her. Claim
her. Make her his.
…Isla huddled with six other witches in a
basement beneath one of the warehouses lining San Francisco’s docks. Her hair
hung in filthy strands. Grime caked beneath her nails, and she stank, but at
least she was alive. Russian sorcerers—or at least sorcerers who spoke
Russian—had killed four of her sisters before she’d dragged the rest of their small
band to a defensible position and swathed them in layers and layers of magic.
It had been a short-term solution, but they
hadn’t had any choice. Not really. Only problem was they had no easy way out.
If they dismantled their spell, the sorcerers would find them in a trice. If
they remained where they were, eventually they’d starve to death. She was far
weaker than she’d been a week ago when they’d barricaded themselves into the
underground room with its dirt floor and dirt walls. Small cutouts high on two
walls coincided with ground level, and provided their only source of light.
In desperation, she’d used her power stone to
call Hester Thorne, a witch who’d been instrumental drawing their group into a
cohesive unit. Hester promised help, but it had yet to materialize. Breath
steamed through Isla’s teeth as she bent forward and stirred the shallow pool
she’d created from a broken pot made of crockery and water dripping down the
walls. It took a while, but the water had finally grown deep enough to become a
scrying instrument.
Weariness dogged her, and her vision blurred.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing them to focus next time she dragged her
lids open. Thinking it might help, she pushed herself upright and walked around
the six- by ten-foot room.
“What are you doing?” Kat eyed her balefully
out of bloodshot blue eyes. “I was asleep.” Dirty blonde hair had been braided
to keep it out of the way.
“Aye, and ye’ll be asleep permanently if ye’re
not careful,” Isla shot back, the brogue from her native Scotland thicker than
usual. It was one of the reasons she and Hester had bonded so tightly. Shared
roots from Scotland’s Highlands and islands.
“Isla! Come look at your pool!” Rowan cried.
Silver hair fell about her, dragging in the dirt, but her brown eyes were lit
with hope.
Isla skidded to her knees and stared at the
water’s surface. Nine men strutted down the rock-strewn sand fronting the
ocean. Tall, rangy, hard-bodied and clad in leathers, it was obvious they were
used to ruling the world. At first she thought they were a new passel of
sorcerers, but she forced herself to look closer.
Not trusting her first take, she took a ragged
breath. Maybe she wished for salvation from the room that was likely to become
their crypt so desperately, she was imagining things, “What does it look like
to you?” she asked Rowan.
The other woman turned to face her. “Help.
That’s what it looks like. Those men are bleeding power, and it’s the good
kind.”
The other women skittered across the floor,
jostling one another to get close to the pool so they could see.
“Be careful!” Isla cautioned. “Else ye’ll tip
the dish, and we might not live long enough for me to refill it.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she
took in the men. One of them in particular caught her attention and held it.
Long, blond hair spilled across his shoulders, and his eyes were a bright,
turquoise blue. Strong bones carved his cheekbones into bas-relief, and his jaw
was square, determined. Buff colored leathers covered him, and they were
skintight, leaving virtually nothing to her imagination. Broad shoulders led to
deeply muscled arms and narrow hips with a high, tight ass. Long legs
disappeared into boots that laced to his knees.
Her throat grew dry. Many a year had passed
since she’d experienced such an immediate reaction to a man, and it confused
her.
Must be
because I’m half-staved.
Och aye,
and ye know better, the other half of
her brain inserted dryly. Whoever he was, he was one gorgeous man.
Understanding slammed into her, and she was
ashamed she hadn’t put two and two together immediately. “They must be the aid
Hester promised.” She glanced at the other women.
Rowan lurched upright. “If that’s true, then
we need to go outside and help them.”
Isla licked her chapped lips. “They’re not
looking as if they need any help, but at least that way they won’t have to hunt
for us, and mayhap we can leave this accursed place.”
“You’re the one with the strongest magic,” Kat
pointed out. “And the only one who can project telepathy beyond the enchantment
hiding us. See if they answer.”
Isla exhaled sharply. It was a reasonable
suggestion, but not without risk. If she was wrong, and those men were actually
allied with the dark, she’d have given away their position. Opened them to a
certain death. Or worse, imprisonment at the hands of evil.
“I was in your mind,” Rowan said, her voice
surprisingly gentle. “We’re as good as dead now. I say we chance it.”
“I was coming around to the same conclusion.”
Isla breathed deeply to center herself and drew out her pink moonstone. Before
she could think things to death, and her courage failed utterly, she linked to
the stone and sent her magic thrumming outward. No need to make things fancy,
so she settled on the shortest phrase imaginable.
“Are ye who
Hester sent?”
Depending on the answer, she’d ask for proof
and take things from there.
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