Wicked Enchantment by Anya Bast

Author:Anya Bast
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: American Light Romantic Fiction, Romance - Paranormal, American Science Fiction And Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy, paranormal, Fiction, Romance, Fantasy, Suspense, Occult fiction, Fiction - Romance, Love stories
ISBN: 9780425232019
Publisher: Penguin Group (USA) Incorporated
Published: 2010-01-22T09:00:00+00:00

AISLINN lay on her side, gasping shallowly. Her eyes were wide open and unblinking as she watched water rivulets on the uneven stone wall seven feet from her face. It might be the last thing she ever saw. This scent of must, old blood, and sweat would probably be the last odors she ever smelled. Too bad it couldn’t be something nice like cinnamon or honey.

The black mages had been swirling around her like a murder of crows all day, muttering to themselves. Their activity had taken on an urgency today that hadn’t been there before. Something had happened. Perhaps they’d found a solution to their problem—a way to destroy her soul.

Aislinn was looking forward to an end to her misery, though a part of her still screamed for life. It was a tiny voice now, buried under the scrape of the charmed iron along her ice-cold skin, the rough rock of the slab she lay on, and the relentless battery of pain in her head and in her limbs.

Images from her childhood passed through her mind now and again, as if her subconscious was reviewing and releasing memories before she kicked off into eternal black. Not the Netherworld. She was being denied even that much.

She could see her father in her mind’s eye—her real one—throwing light blue and pink balls of illusion into the air on her seventh birthday. Now she remembered the low, harsh conversations her parents used to have in the kitchen or behind their closed bedroom door. Had her father known she didn’t carry his DNA? Had they been arguing about her mother’s unfaithfulness? Aislinn would never know. So many questions would die with her today.

Perhaps that was the bitterest of all to swallow.

Sounds of battle met Aislinn’s ear. It was far off, at the other end of the dank basement. A prisoner uprising, perhaps. They happened from time to time. Although this one seemed to give her captors pause. The crowlike mages paused in their muttering and their dark spell stirring. Their hooded heads bobbed up, faces turned toward the sound of yelling.

Somewhere in the distance, a man bellowed strange words in Old Maejian.

“Tae soelle en bailian! Soot mael hai illium!”

The words of power were laced with a spell. They tightened like a noose around her throat. Her eyes popped open even wider and she gasped. Terrified, she fought it, her body convulsing on the slab beneath her.

Oh, Danu, not yet! I’m not ready yet!

The mages stiffened, panicked, and yelled spell-strung words back into the dungeon, but it was too late for countermeasures. Even in her iron-sick delirium she knew that. Whoever it was, he’d taken the mages unawares. One by one, clutching the invisible threads around their throats, they dropped to the dirty floor of the dungeon.

She alone remained alive. Magick warred over her body, but the tendrils of the first spell were stuck tight around her neck, constricting harder and harder. Her will to live flared to brilliant life and she dredged up every tiny morsel of power she didn’t know she had to fight.

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