Description: Chapter One San Francisco Silver Ashcroft slipped through night and shadows, heart pounding and rage simmering. Although she belonged to a D''Anu Coven that practiced white witchcraft, there was no doubt in her mind this situation required a good dose of gray magic. Behind her, Paranormal Special Forces Captain Jake Macgregor walked as soundlessly as she did despite the fact he was tall, big, and muscular, and had to weigh a good two-twenty. "Are you sure, Silver?" the handsome dark-haired man asked through the transmitter attached to her ear. She paused only long enough to toss him a glare over her shoulder. "Have I ever been wrong?" Jake answered with a wink and she shook her head as she reached the fire escape. It was one of the older boardinghouses on the southern side of San Francisco, and it showed its age with its cracked and peeling paint, rusted drainpipes, and weed-choked yard. Without waiting for Jake, Silver grabbed a rail. The paint-chipped metal felt rough beneath her palms and she caught the smell of rust. She swung up and onto the fire escape and landed soundlessly on the mesh floor. Below her Jake swore under his breath, but she heard it over the communication device. He hated to have her involved in the actual bust, but when she led them to illegal paranormal activities like ritual sacrifice and the use of magic to destroy property or steal expensive items, she insisted on taking part. She often made the take-down easier, but knew the officer still didn''t like her putting herself in danger. Smells of garbage, dirt, and weeds met her nose as she grasped the metal bars that would take her to the next story. She''d have to be careful the creaking fire escape didn''t catch the attention of the occupants in the third-story apartment. When she was at the second story, she whispered into the transmitter, "Make sure your team is ready." In the next moment she ran her hand down in the air before her face, drawing a glamour around herself and disappearing from human sight. Jake murmured to his team into the communicator on his jacket as Silver continued her climb. Chill air penetrated her black gloves, jeans, and jacket, and her nose was so cold it was nearly numb. She heard the captain swing up and onto the fire escape to begin his quiet climb. He would stay one floor below her, knowing she needed her space to perform her magic. PSF team members eased from the shadows and waited on the ground, their guns trained on the third-story windows. More officers blocked all escape routes and some had already slipped into the boardinghouse to await Jake''s orders. When Silver finally crept onto the third-floor fire escape, she crouched near the dingy window closest to her. She peered through a pair of frayed white curtains parted just enough for her to see into the room. With her glamour she had no fear of being seen, but she always took care just in case she ran into something that could actually see an invisible witch. Her gaze took in the sparsely furnished room. She caught the odor of cigarettes, and that musty smell of old buildings, along with a more bitter odor---calamus root and dragon''s blood. Countless black candles flickered for attention, giving the room enough light to see by. As sharp and hot as a desert wind, heat flooded her at the sight of the inverted pentagram burned into the frayed carpet, a lidless eye at its center. It was identical to the others they''d found near dead witches. For a moment she didn''t see anyone through the window, but then a form in a black robe appeared, entering the candlelit room from another part of the house. The hood dropped back away from the woman''s face. With her long blond hair and classic looks, she was beautiful by human society''s standards. Silver would never have taken her for a Balorite warlock, but she knew she needed to shed her stereotypes of warlocks. These Balorites were a whole new breed. Unfortunately, practicing evil didn''t make them look evil. In fact, rather the opposite, as if those initials with physical flaws were culled. From what Silver had scried using her pewter cauldron, she had learned that Balorites definitely used blood magic---the spilling of blood to draw on energies and beings far outside the warlock''s own ability---for personal gain and power. Also for the purpose of hurting other living things. Rumor had it they intended to rule the underground magic world and ultimately take political power for themselves. And like members of the D''Anu, by day many of the Balorites already served in high positions in the government, and in major corporations. Positions of power. But by night, many of the Balorite Clan---or their minions---wreaked havoc that the D''Anu worked to overcome with white magic. Except for me. Gray magic was what Silver practiced, unbeknownst to her Coven. She attempted to shake off the feeling of evil from being in the mere vicinity of obvious preparations for a Balorite ritual. But she could feel it creeping down her spine, making her squirm in revulsion. "Are you all right?" Jake''s voice crackled in her ear from the transmitter. Even though she knew he couldn''t see her because of the cloak of magic she wore, she nodded and responded with a "Shhh," as she moved to the next window. She squinted, trying to peer through another set of curtains, but they were shut tight. With her gloved hands, she attempted to lift the window only to find it locked. Biting her lower lip in concentration, Silver flicked one finger in the air, sending her magic to do her bidding. In the next second she heard the rusty scrape of metal against wood as the latch unfastened. She held her breath, hoping the warlock hadn''t heard. After pausing two heartbeats, Silver gripped the bottom of the window and her muscles tightened as she slowly pushed it up. Wood scratched wood like fingernails across a chalkboard, as she eased the window high enough that even a grown man could crawl through. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness when she parted the stained green curtains, but then her heart thumped in her throat. It was the same scene she''d witnessed with her scrying cauldron earlier that evening. The missing child was curled up in a ball in an exhausted sleep, her cheeks grubby and tearstained, her hands bound in front of her with cloth strips biting into her small wrists. Silver''s blood boiled even hotter. This girl had been kidnapped to be used in unspeakable rites, harmed in ways that made Silver ill to think about. Blood magic. The blackest of all black magic. Remaining in a crouch, Silver moved back to the first window and saw that the woman had been joined by two men, both wearing black robes identical to the one the woman wore. One man was slightly turned, so that she could make out his aristocratic profile. The second man had pierced ears, shaggy brown hair, and a day''s growth of stubble. He was speaking to the other Balorite warlocks. Silver caught the words "Darkwolf," "initiates," "ritual," and "soon." Silver tamped down fury that threatened to overcome her, that threatened to make these warlocks pay in a way that would make them wish they''d never been born to this world. But that would be black magic, and she walked the fine line of gray and white. Never black. If she''d been Janis Arrowsmith or any older member of the D''Anu Coven, they would simply have let the PSF officers take over once they directed the cops to the house where the child was held. Rhiannon, Mackenzie, and Sydney often helped Jake, too, but as far as she knew, they used only white witchcraft. Not Silver. She would ensure these warlocks wouldn''t escape the justice due them. The barest of thumps on the fire escape startled Silver so badly she nearly cried out. At the same time she cut her gaze toward the sound, she flipped out two short, thin, and extremely sharp stiletto daggers sheathed inside her boots. A man was mere inches from her, and from her crouched position she had to look up---way, way up---to fully see him. His massive arms were folded across his powerful chest, his stance wide, shoulder-length ebony hair whipping in the breeze. He wore all black, a snug sleeveless shirt and tight leather pants with a glimmering sword sheathed to one side of his lean hips, a dagger at his other. A fierce expression crossed his rough features, and his jaw tightened as if with anger. He was one of the most gorgeous men she''d ever seen. A man that made her heart pound, and fire burn in her blood. A man who shouldn''t have been able to get past Jake. Silver clenched her jaw and gripped her knives tighter, but the man held his fingers to his lips in a "shush" motion. "Quiet," came a voice with a strong Irish brogue in her mind. "I will help you get the child to safety before you attempt to finish your assignment." Silver was speechless. He''d seen through her glamour and he had spoken in her mind. Before she could react, he leaned in through the now open window, his longer body and sheer strength giving him an advantage she didn''t have. In mere seconds he reappeared with the sleeping child in his large embrace. He held her tenderly, as if she were a precious treasure and might break if he wasn''t careful. He stroked a strand of the girl''s matted brown curls from her face. "A leanbh," he murmured aloud, his amber eyes focused on the girl, a look of compassion on his strong f

Please Wait