The End of Magic (The Witches of Echo Park #3)(6)

       
        

"Are you sure-" Niamh started to ask, but Arrabelle shushed her.

The helicopter was close, kicking up the dust outside the mine's entrance as it set down on the scorched brown earth. The four of them waited with bated breath as the giant machine shut down and a long, uninterrupted silence filled the air. This was eventually followed by the crack of a metal door opening.

"Evan?! You in residence here, ya crazy bastard, or was that a bogus call you made?"

The tension went out of Evan's shoulders as he recognized the voice.

"It's Jessika," he said, bringing Arrabelle's hand to his lips and giving it a quick kiss. "The lady nabbed herself a bird to get here."

"Jess! Right behind you," he called out before striding toward the mouth of the mine shaft.

"Shall we?" Arrabelle asked, quirking an eyebrow as she watched Evan's retreating back.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Lyse said, and grinned.

She loved seeing the usually taciturn Arrabelle acting as smitten as a schoolgirl over Evan, her former flame. It was the one bright spot in what was proving to be an otherwise miserable existence.

"After you," Arrabelle said. "You are the master of the Echo Park coven."

She poked Lyse in the upper arm to let her know she was just teasing. Even though Arrabelle had wanted the job-would have probably made a better coven master than Lyse-she had been a gracious loser. But she still enjoyed harassing Lyse about it.

"Okie-doke," Lyse said, and led the way, Arrabelle and Niamh hot on her heels.

They left the cool dark of the mine entrance, returning to the last dregs of afternoon heat, but Lyse was too busy staring at the helicopter to notice.

"Holy crap, that thing is giant," she said. "It looks just like one of those Black Hawk ones from the movie."

The three women who'd arrived in the helicopter had enveloped Evan, ribbing him between hugs, but at Lyse's comment, they broke rank and came over to surround her. They were all wearing camouflage T-shirts, dungarees, and combat boots-which would've made them seem imposing even if they hadn't been well over six feet, each possessing a seriously muscled body and a fierce expression on her tan face.

"Uh," Lyse said, taking a step back-and hoping she hadn't offended them.

"You think we'd roll in on a civilian chopper? Like we were the local news?" the tallest of them said and snorted with derision. Her short blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck, and her mirrored aviator shades made it impossible to tell what she was thinking. "We only travel in style, little lady. And we have reinforcements on the way. About five Humvees' worth so we can get your refugees all tucked up safe inside." 

"Arrabelle, Lyse, Niamh . . . this is Jessika," Evan said, grinning at his friends' shocked expressions. "When I say I'm calling in the cavalry, I mean I'm calling in the cavalry. They're blood sisters . . . but also members of an elite group of covens who act as mercenaries for some big guns . . ."

"Not the Greater Council?" Lyse asked, almost choking on the words. This was a huge mistake. The Council was compromised, and she'd warned Evan and the others that this was the case . . .

"Stop looking like a wolf ate your supper," Jessika said, whipping off her aviators to reveal intense violet eyes. "We may do jobs for those guys, but we operate on our own. And we don't do any kind of shit that we don't want to do. Right, sisters?"

The other two women, both blond and as tan as Jessika, nodded.

"Besides," Jessika continued, "I dreamed about you, Lyse MacAllister. You and the rest of your coven are famous-and any blood sister worth her salt knows that if we don't help you, well, we're all pretty much fucked."

With a rakish grin, Jessika offered her hand to Lyse,

"We're famous?" Lyse asked, incredulous.

"You're more than famous," Jessika said, grabbing Lyse's hand and giving it a firm shake. "You're the only thing standing between this world . . . and the end. So, me and my sisters, we're here to help you, protect you, and keep you and your sisters safe."

And with that, she pulled Lyse into a bear hug, almost crushing the smaller woman in her heavily muscled arms.

"Good to meet you, too," Lyse murmured, dazed, as Jessika finally released her.

"Now where are the prisoners?" Jessika bellowed, beckoning for her sisters to follow her inside the entrance of the mine shaft. "Let's grab 'em and then let's get the hell out of here before the government calls and says they want Area 51 back."





Lizbeth





They were in the dreamlands. All the power she'd been imbued with when she'd been hurtling toward her destiny-being the last Dream Keeper, the one who would dream the return of magic-was gone. She no longer felt the souls of the trapped Dream Keepers. They had been released from one prison into another (the second just happened to be Lizbeth's body) until she finally set them free-but she did find herself missing them just a little and the way they filled her brain and blood with their song. Now there was only Lizbeth-no one else was rattling around in there with her-and she thought that was probably for the best.