Lightning struck in the distance and a bolt of light flashed through a gap in the trees, highlighting six approaching men.Mason’s warriors.
Sienna’s gut twisted and with quick hand movements, she sent lashes of fire their way. Their shouts of surprise ripped through the night and they scattered. Sienna responded with another round of ammunition that seemed to quicken Mason’s movements.
He tied the rope around the cat’s neck and went to the next one with another bag, repeating the movement. “There was an old witch I met recently in New Orleans,” he shouted above the noise, showing her the bag before fastening it to the third cat. “She was a friend of my mother’s and shares our vision for our kind. She gave me these three bags and I’m itching to see if they work.”
Sienna knew immediately what he meant, felt the hitch in her energy the moment the third bag touched the cat’s neck, and fought to maintain the protection spell. Ashwood. She’d never seen the debilitating herb before, but her mother had once mentioned it. Not well known, it bound a witch’s powers if placed in a triangular form around her. That and Rose Thorn were two herbs every witch dreaded.
Mason straightened, dusted off his hands and gave her a wide grin that smacked of triumph. Their gazes met across the retreating flames and she kept her back rigid, her head held high.
“You might temporarily bind my powers, Mason, but you’ve forgotten one thing,” she said with a quiet confidence, even though the circle of fire had begun to wither away.
“And what’s that, love?”
“My Keepers will come for me.”
“They don’t know where you are.”
“They will find me and they will come for me. Always.”
The long line of skeletal teeth drew together as his smile lessened. Without the grin, his tattooed deadpan expression was even more eerie, blurring the lines between the living and the dead. His black eyes settled on her with such intensity that her stomach lurched. “That’s exactly what I’m counting on.”
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