A SORCERER’S NIGHT: THE ORDER OF THE BLACK OAK - WARLOCKS by Marie-Claude Bourque

Author:Marie-Claude Bourque [Bourque, Marie-Claude]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SEA STORM PUBLISHING
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Sinclair had easily found where Burton had settled in Hemingford. The century-old rogue sorcerer carried such dark energy, that his trace, once one knew what to look for, was simple to locate at the edge of town, in a lone beach cottage closed up for the winter by its owners.

Sin parked the Jag by the dunes covered in reeds behind the small house, grabbed his short sorcerer blasting staff from the passenger’s seat and silently got out of the car.

His heartbeat eased. Celeste wasn’t here.

When he’d awaken to the hotel room empty, her glasses and backpack gone, he’d feared the worse. She could be stubborn enough to take Burton on her own and that would not do. If the Huntsman dagger had not been enough to kill him, how would she fare better at ending him now?

No, that was for him to figure out.

The sudden pumping of his blood roared in his ears. His body full of epinephrine, ready to finish the rogue mage once and for all. Diesel should have decapitated the bastard’s head before flinging him into the ocean.

But Sin had no such qualm with massacring the wretch. Burton had killed his mother. Had kept his girlfriend captive on the brink of madness for days.

Sin thanked his dual nature. The panther in him screamed for blood, for revenge.

Sure, the bastard may not die from Sinclair assault. He’d been said to be immortal. But Sin was willing to take his chance. Anything to prevent the mage from going near Celeste again.

He stepped onto the thick sand, the bitter wind blasting his coat behind him. The sun on the edge of the horizon created a rose-colored sky spreading over the vast and stormy Atlantic Ocean.

Well chosen, Burton. So isolated. I could kill you and no one would ever know.

Now all that was left was to make a choice. Which part of him would eliminate Burton?

Sinclair Clarke, warlock of the Black Oak, or the predator hailing from his mother’s ancestry he carried inside.

He owed it to his mom to rip out the bastard’s throat with his bare teeth. Memory of the dying panther that had been his mother, covered in blood, the Huntsman Dagger planted within her flank, assaulted him.

He owed it to her. And to Celeste. To make Burton suffer countless agonies that would barely pay for the suffering he enacted onto those he loved.

A bit of both persona might be needed.

Cold determination flowed through his veins as he reached inside his coat for his father’s Warden’s Cuff. Carved of thick silver and titanium, the thing was so potent he could not wear it constantly.

He snapped the enchanted bracelet onto his left wrist and held his staff steady in his right hand, ready for whatever Burton chose to throw at him.

As he crept up the wooden stair, the wards around the house assaulted him in a powerful, heated pressure under his skin that caught his breath short.

He thrust his staff toward the door. “Vahrasth igyrat.” The protective spell Burton had cast on his dwelling vanished in a small blue haze.

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