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Chapter One
“So, you’re really going through with this?”
“Yes.”
“There’s nothing I can say to stop you?”
“No.”
“Nothing I can do?”
“No.”
“What if I went with you? I could…”
“No.”
“But you can’t do this alone. It’s too dangerous and you’re…”
“IamCarlotta Maldese-Dalgaard. My mother was Margarite Maldese, the revered High Priestess of Coven of the Guardians of Rhiannon, and my father was the Warrior Raoul Dalgaard, an unstoppable Sleipnir with the blood of the Odin’s Stallion racing through his veins. Iamthe one and only Protector of the Coven of the Guardians of Rhiannon - ordained by the Universe, Fate, Destiny, and the Great Goddess of All. It has been my entire focus, my reason for living, my whole identity for longer than you’ve been alive. Do you know what that means?”
Not waiting for an answer, Lottie raged on, “It means I not only trained with my uncles and cousins on the Isle of Skye to be the best of the best of the Sleipnir Shifters there ever was, but I was taught combat by the Valkyries. I was on the battlefield during the Great Fairy war. I was appointed and anointed by Rhiannon herself, and trusted with a portion of the very power that races through her veins to keep my people,my Covensafe. It was, no itis,my job to… to… to…”
“But things have changed. You have other responsibilities. You have to…”
“No. I will not take the title of Priestess. Not yet. Maybe not ever.” Her fist shaking at her side, Lottie tried not to lose her cool. “What’s left of my mother isn’t even cold yet. You can’t think that I would be ready…”
“But there are…”
“It wasmy job to keep them safe. I was… I was supposed… I was…” Choking on regret and rage, her throat closing with the tears she refused to shed, the Protector summoned every ounce of control and restraint. She could not give into the fury. Would not shift into the eight-legged Mare with whom she shared her soul.
But the time will come…
With every instinct, every thought, every fiber of her being screaming for her to transform, to fly from the Coven’s home, to find those responsible for the death of the people she loved with all her heart, and exact her own brand of justice, Lottie’s muscles locked, and her body shook.
“No,”Astrid, the Sleipnir Mare with whom she shared her soul, growled.“They will pay. The Powers That Be will hold them accountable for the atrocities they have committed. It is your job to…”
“It was my job to be here,” she spat aloud.
Grabbing her favorite T-shirt with such force thepingof popping threads filled the room, Lottie ground out through gritted teeth, “I should have been here, not at the fucking supermarket when those bastards blasted past our wards, slaughtered everyone in their path, and stole the Book of the White Witch. Took the guide to the most powerful Magic in the universe.”
“You can’t…” Prue tried to speak, her meek voice filled with pain and sorrow, but Lottie would hear no more platitudes or excuses.
It was my fault. Plain and simple. And I will be the one who puts it right…
“Stop.” That single word, snarled with the Magic of the Goddess Rhiannon and the Power of the Norse Mare, flew from her lips, reverberating off the walls of the oldest mansion in Jeff Davis County, Tx.
Inhaling so completely and deeply that fur the color of storm clouds, of the unstoppable Sleipnir with whom she shared her soul hovered just over her arms, Lottie counted to ten. She wasn’t mad at Prue. Hell, she was glad the young Witch had survived. Lottie would apologize, she would make it up to her dearest friend, but first…
“I have to calm down,” she murmured under her breath.
Slowly exhaling, she visualized the gorgeous meadow outside Maldese Castle on the Isle of Skye, the place of her birth. The majestic, magical island where all her fondest memories originated – the place she would soon be returning to with her mother’s ashes.
To lay you to rest beside daddy, just like you told me to…
Shaking her head, forcing herself not to lose focus of the tiny pink blossoms of the Butterfly Orchids or the deep lavender of the Ling Heather, she refused to think about anything other than all the happy times. Images swirled and danced, changing from season to season, the scent of the flora and the fauna the Fairies took such good care filling her senses.
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” she whispered. “I was only supposed to return to the Isle, to the castle, to the Dalgaard Harrass with my Mate. Not to…”
