She quirked a brow and pulled the mug up, sniffing the heavenly aroma. "Yumm." Delighted, she closed her eyes. "Heavenly. Ambrosia of the G.o.ds." She took another sip and sighed.

The corner of Meekal's mouth rose, but then he became serious. "You've never rode the wind solo before have you?"

"What?"

"Wind-riding," he said, matter-of-factly. "That's what happened to you. The ancient Picts perfected the experience. In modern times, it's often referred to as astral projection. "It's actually how we traveled to the Tor. This time you went alone."

A turmoil of emotions rose in quick succession heading straight for her throat. She coughed and sputtered, choking on the tea. Her breathing quickened and she set her mug down with a clang, glaring at him.

He shook with silent laughter and shrugged. "You apparently followed the Pictish method, expertly, I might add, because you left completely. There was no body or essence left here. I heard you call out, and then you were gone. Not bad for a first-timer."

She felt her glare slide off her face. The sensation pulled her fingers to her forehead. She pressed hard and rubbed in small circles, trying to alleviate the tension. She didn't even do astral projection in the typical way. "Okay, if that's what it was, then why start now?"

"Shayla, it's like I said, you've been attuned. Your magic will begin to peak. Just because you've never used it with intention before, doesn't mean it hasn't always been there."

"Well, that makes sense, I guess. What's a bezoar stone? That's what Syther wants."

He lowered his eyes and studied his fingers, moving them along the wood grain of the table. He chewed his bottom lip. "Well..."

"Kal."

"A bezoar stone is a stone from the belly of a goat. It can protect you from poison."

Disbelief squeezed her eyes shut while furrows appeared and marred her forehead. "That's what I thought. Myth."

Meekal leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He touched her hands as they clutched the warm mug. "Shay, it isn't a myth. Most of what is true in the magical world is considered a myth by the Semple Folk."

A knot of unease twisted between her shoulders. She shook them in an attempt to relieve the tension. "Semple Folk?" d.a.m.n, just when I think I get it.

"Yes," he said, emphasizing the point with a nod. "Semple Folk are non-magical. It's another Pictish concept. You need to learn as much as you can about them. Their beliefs and practices will help in adjusting to your gifts." He pulled a small green book out of his pocket and caressed the leather binding. It enlarged.

She rolled her eyes. "Showoff."

Meekal simply shrugged. "Here you go, ''The Mys'terius Ways of the Fae.' However," he said, pausing with the book between them. "We won't begin your training just yet."

"Why?" Shayla reached for it. On brief contact, a tingle of mystic surprise shot up her arm. The leather cover was old and well worn. But the gold and silver lettering still blazed across its front, entwined with a blossoming holy thorn branch and an asp. She started to open it.

"Wait," Meekal said, his hand stopping her. "We will begin your training later. First, there are some important things I must tell you." He surprised her by taking the book and setting it to the side.

Curiosity compelled her gaze to lock on the green enticement. Something under her skin said reach for it.

Meekal leaned forward, tapped it, and then said, "Aye, it's archaic. It's the best resource because it was written by someone who knew the truth about the Picts."

"Brenna Ena Mavelle Branbalder-MacKinnoch?" She looked from the book in time to catch an amused look on his face.

His features changed to a nonchalant calm. "Later. One thing at a time." He leaned back in his chair. "The bezoar stone that Syther wants is significant because it contains the soul of an evil Thyrza. Remember what I said before about people trying to steal the Power of the Well?"

[6] Lord Malvenue:.

Evil Comer.

Meekal went into bard mode. This was a time to be a storyteller and offer an eloquent explanation. Settling himself into the chair comfortably, he knew his voice took on a different timbre.

"Lord Malvenue was the wickedest wizard of the twentieth century. Malvenue literally means, evil comer. Absolutely no one knew where he came from." Memory surged through him. He pulled his brows into a tight frown.

"Wait a minute." Shayla said, disbelief crossing her face. "It was the twentieth century. Somebody can't just appear from nowhere. Even if they did, technology would help find where they came from."

"Shayla." He allowed his voice to resonate with gentleness, frown blending away with patience. "You need to remember that where magic is concerned, anything is possible."

Intriguing black brows puckered as she pulled her lower lip between white teeth. "Anything?"

"Some people believe magic has limits." He shook his shoulders, releasing the growing knot of stress pressing against his neck. "Knowledge is power. That's the common perception. That's true as far as it goes. It's important you understand this because until you do, you'll have a block in learning magic."

"You're saying magic doesn't have limits," she said, in a thoughtful tone.

"Aye. Einstein said, 'Imagination is more important than knowledge.' Magic follows the limitations of human imagination."

"Boundless," she murmured.

He inhaled sharply, absolute beauty washing over him as he watched her face change while working through some issues in her head. "That's right. There are ways."

He stood and began to pace between the queen-sized bed and bathroom door, adding hand motions for affect. "Maybe Malvenue just killed everyone who knew him. At least that's the speculation. Even amidst his followers, no one knew his origin."

Shayla took a sip of her tea, listening.

His pacing always helped him focus. Start at the beginning. The thought came through his mind in Black Bryan's voice. He turned back to her, pushing a hand through bed-mussed hair, wincing as he caught a knot.

"The first anyone knew about Malvenue, he raided and took over a wizarding village on the Isle of Rhum. The Isle of Rhum is part of the Hebrides. It's just south of Skye. Anyway, Gehenna is unseen by the Semple Folk. There's a range called the Cuillin on the Isle. That's where Gehenna is. The reason he chose that spot was because of the volcanic rock in the area. It has great power from the Fire Element."

Shayla took the towel off her head and shook her hair out before standing to retrieve a comb from her bag. "It's a lot to absorb," she said, sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed. "History of magic, one-o-one."

He scratched thoughtfully at his jaw where the morning's growth irritated. "Aye, I know. Problem is, you need to know everything."

"Well, you're in luck. I've always been fascinated with history." She paused to focus on a tangle in her long hair, grunting painfully.

A thrill went through his heart at her simple motions. He approached with a smile and took the comb. In a brief moment, he ran a finger over the end of the tines, whispering a soft incantation, and then handed it back to her. "Now try."

Shayla looked at the comb, shrugged and started. "Ooh!" Her hair not only came untangled with ease, it became drier with each stroke. "Wow, I could get used to this."

"I can't believe your mum wouldn't let you do something like that. I guess it's just the difference of growing up within the magical world."

"Mom grew up in a convent." She pulled the comb through her hair once more and released a sigh. "Several families took her in as a foster child, but when she did something they didn't understand, back she went. I think that's why she was always against me using magic."

He sat down and leaned forward, dangling his hands between his knees, nodding. "That'd do it."

She paused in her combing. "Yeah. Kal?"

Locking his eyes with hers, he felt a quick light motion around his heart which sent tingles through his body. He focused on that feeling. Magical wonder. What an awesome feeling and connection. "Humm?"

"How many wizards are there? I mean, do you even know?"

"The census for UK in two thousand registered just over 224,000 of various magical abilities. That was after Malvenue's reign of terror."

Sadness enveloped him as he leaned back against the chair. "It's estimated that Malvenue had about five thousand followers. Quite a few died, many fled to other parts of the world. Syther was one of his minions. Not high up in the ranks, so he wasn't in the thick of the final battle. Malvenue was responsible for killing seven thousand during the nineties."

"Why would he do that?"

"Power. Not only political, but also magical. Many were killed to drain their magic. Like a vampire after blood."

She gasped, her face reflecting horror at that information. "Why does Syther want the bezoar stone? What's his motivation?" She pulled the comb through her hair, watching its progress in the long locks for a moment.

His fingers itched to touch; however, he stoically refrained, even as he noticed her lower lip turned bright red from nervous gnawing. "Motivation? We believe he wants to bring Malvenue back. We don't have any spies in Syther's ranks as we did with Malvenue. The Council rejects the idea that Malvenue can be brought back." He hesitated. "They don't understand the idea of a captured soul in the stone. They just think he died on the battlefield. Lack of imagination, I guess."

"Perhaps. Maybe you should tell me first how Malvenue got into the Bezoar stone?"

"Well," Meekal said, pulling his eyes from the curve of her lip, he stood to begin pacing again. "I'd rather backtrack first and tell you that in ninety-seven, before the final battle, Malvenue attempted to take the Chalice Well and its Power. I was fifteen."

Shayla stood, dropped her robe and pulled a blouse over her head. "You keep saying that." Her voice m.u.f.fled in the fabric, and then her head popped through the neck opening. "I'm new to all this. What exactly do you mean?"

"Magic is everywhere. Some places have higher concentrations. Glas...o...b..ry, including the Chalice Well, White Spring and the Tor are all aligned. Ley lines crisscross. Most people are unaware of their existence or in denial. However, someone with Malvenue's knowledge and magical powers could utilize the combined magic to the detriment of all humanity."

She zipped her jeans and b.u.t.toned the waistband. "So, that's why your family has always protected the Well?"

"Aye. It's a bit strange. I was just a kid, but the memories are so clear it's like it happened yesterday. Since our family line must continue, it became necessary for me to go into hiding. While I was sequestered, I met some northern wizards who were determined to vanquish Malvenue. They weren't much older than I was. Seventeen and eighteen to be exact."

Her eyes grew round with incredulity. "Ugh, that's really young."

"Aye." Meekal paused before the window. "They were awesome. Anyway, one of them, Vince, actually spied within Malvenue's ranks. He helped us formulate a plan and worked from the inside to crumble Malvenue's organization."

"A kid?"

"One of the best. Two others, James and Leith are Elementals. They worked together in the actual vanquish. They're the ones who sealed Malvenue's soul in the bezoar stone. James wanted to use the stone because of something that happened in one of his cla.s.ses. It amused him that an artifact that protects us from poison could be the ultimate protection. It keeps the evil soul from ever coming back if held in trust somewhere that his followers are unable to get to it."

He stopped at the table and poured himself a mug of spice tea. "That's where the Chalice Well comes into play again. Malvenue tried to take the Power of the Well and twist its essence to achieve his plan to take over the Council of Magical Clans." He drank a sip, eyeing her over his mug.

"So the combined magic around Glas...o...b..ry can be switched to evil? How would that happen? Doesn't the Well heal?"

Setting his tea down, he clarified. "The Power of the Well is Good. However, like anything, it has its dichotomy or opposite, if you prefer that term. The Power can sway to the Dark or Evil side if not watched over with caution. Shayla, this conflict isn't just about my family legacy. Think about it on a deeper level. If Malvenue took the Power, a visitor from here traveling back to a large city like New York or even a smaller city of Oneonta, Alabama, where my dad was from, could carry illness or some other form of destruction with them. Each instance would have spread Malvenue's wickedness like an insidious poison."

"The Chalice Well is that powerful? Wow."

"Aye. Remember, protection was the reason Black Bryan came here in the first place. In ten sixty-six, it became necessary to have a Guardian. But the Chalice Well has always been here, protected in one form or another because of that very potent reason."

She looked perplexed for a moment. "Wasn't ten sixty-six when William the Conqueror invaded England? Did Black Bryan protect the Well from him?"

Mirroring her habit, he bit his lip. "Not exactly, but pivotal times in history require extra precaution." He began to pace again.

The sudden intrusion of a phone ringing jarred them.

Shayla, watching his pacing, jumped up. Her eyes went to the clock. "d.a.m.n." She crossed the bed, and reached for the speaker b.u.t.ton. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Shayla," Gail said. "Are you going to join the tour this morning?"

"I'm sorry, Gail. I completely lost track of the time. Go ahead and leave. I'll catch up to you later."

"If you're sure."

"I am," Shayla answered, tapping her comb on her palm.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Have a good time. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. See you in the morning. Have a good day. Bye."

"Thanks. You too." She hung up the phone with a sigh. "I couldn't exactly tell her, what happened, you know."

He pulled his eyes away. For the moment, he had to focus on other issues. "Maybe we should go out for breakfast or have Carling bring something up."

"Carling?"

"The cook here at Tor Sunset."

"And you know Carling how?" she asked, jesting.

Laughter came up of its own accord and he finished off with a grin. "Her father, fondly known as Ole Man Lunn, used to aggravate the h.e.l.l outta Harry." He still shook with humor. "Harry and I played many a prank on him in return."

"I'll order something," Shayla said, laughing. "What do you want?"

"Eggs and sausage would be good." He relaxed and sat while she ordered breakfast.

They resumed their conversation after they finished eating. Shayla watched, waiting with antic.i.p.ation, as he cleared his throat and started.

"When we discovered Malvenue was going to attempt to take the Well, my grandfather, my mum, James and Leith formulated a plan to create wards for the Well and Manor. Vince helped with that. Malvenue marked his minions with a Runic tattoo. We banished the tattoo from the area around the Well and Manor." Meekal took a deep breath. "When Dragar and his thugs attacked us, that was the ward border. They can't penetrate the protection or get closer."

She swallowed her last bite of eggs and pushed her plate away. "Protective wards exist?"

"Aye, they do. The bezoar stone is well within the ward. That's why Syther wants to take them down. So he can get to it."

"How can Syther destroy the ward?"

Meekal held her gaze tightly.