Indigo Spell Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Indigo Spell

  ISBN # 9781419909795

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Indigo Spell Copyright© 2007 Rachel Carrington

  Edited by Carole Genz.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication: March 2007

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Content Advisory:

  S – ENSUOUS

  E – ROTIC

  X – TREME

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated S-ensuous.

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words, almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness in these works of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Stories designated with the letter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  Indigo Spell

  Rachel Carrington

  Prologue

  Three hundred years in the past in Mystique

  Bravely facing the fire circling the floor at her feet, Charlemaine stood in front of the door to prevent her son’s escape. “Jaxon, you cannot do this. Your actions today could have ramifications that far extend the boundaries of our world. Even you cannot conceive the dangers you put yourself or this family in.”

  Jaxon blinked his eyes toward the ring of flames and winced a little as the vaporous heat intensified. Power rippled beneath his skin, in his eyes. Closing in on two hundred years of age, he believed in himself, in his abilities. He had the power of the wizards behind him. His desire to control was strong and the need to break free of the barriers of his people threatened to overwhelm him. “Step away from the door, Mother. I would not want the flames to harm you.” As he spoke, the glow of orange and blue rose higher and licked closer to the silk of Charlemaine’s robe. He hoped she would back down.

  “You will not use your powers against the woman who gave you life.” The booming voice had Jaxon whirling around, facing the stormy eyes of his father. “I have taught you better than that.” Blowing a blast of frigid moisture, Jensen snuffed the flames and pulled his wife to his side. “How dare you! You have no more sense than to place your own wants and needs above your own mother. The Assembly will call a Tribunal for this.” The older wizard shook with rage.

  Jaxon lowered his hand but his muscles bunched, tensed, waiting for his father’s attack. “I have made plans for the evening. She does not wish me to go. I am no longer a child to be guided by my mother’s hand and she was never in any danger.” He saw the fear in his mother’s eyes, fear for what he was becoming, but Jaxon banked his guilt. The need for supremacy was stronger. It gnawed at him, demanded release. “Mother’s powers exceed mine. She was perfectly capable of extinguishing the flames. She placed herself in front of the door.”

  Outside the stone walls of the citadel, the wind howled, kicked up a whirl of fog and angry clouds. As the fury blanketed the windows, the three wizards, tension coating their features, faced off. Parents against son in an age-old battle of wills.

  “To save you from something even you don’t understand.” Jensen, his eyes glittering, strode back across the floor, the set of his face screaming his rage. “She knows what your plans are, Jaxon. Perhaps it is wise for you to listen to her.” He tapped his foot against polished marble, arms folded.

  “And you have every intention of attempting to stop me if I do not agree. I have learned much in my few years, Father. Perhaps it would not be wise for you to oppose me.” False bravado and the compulsion of his friends overruled the wisdom Jaxon had not yet acquired.

  Jensen’s shoulders swelled, his eyes boiled. “You insolent sap! How dare you assume that by means of your insufficient magic you could overpower me? I have been alive far longer than you have known of the universe’s existence. Your common sense is overshadowed by your raging need to rule. It is that need which will end with your demise. I would suggest you back down now before you make a mistake you will not be able to correct.”

  Jaxon stood taller, a more muscular version of the man facing him. “That is assuming I am frightened by you.”

  “Jensen, Jaxon, please.” Charlemaine’s graceful voice was lost on the two men locked in a heated battle of wills. She sailed across the floor, her ethereal beauty obscured by the dark shadows of night falling across the room. Even at the lateness of the hour, the gas lamps had not been lit. A simple task, it required only the measured look of a wizard’s eye, but the darkness was a welcome shroud to the female wizard. She did not want to see the anger on her husband’s face, the defiance on her son’s. “Think about what you are doing. Jensen, he is your son.”

  “And he has stepped over the line.”

  “Your lines are for fools,” Jaxon scoffed. “You and Mother, like sheep, follow the dictates of a ruler when your powers could very well equal his. Do you believe our leader to be so omnipotent that he is deserving of your fear?” He whirled around, pressed his opened palm against the rough-textured wall. “I will not be held under his boot. I will control my own life, follow my own destiny. If you cannot understand the reasons behind my desire to leave, at the very least, you should respect my decision.”

  “How can I respect your decision when by your very actions you have proven yourself still an adolescent in need of his parents’ control?” Jensen took two steps toward his son, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

  “I am not a child.” Jaxon hurled the words back at his father. “You yourself have told me a wizard has attained maturity when he reaches the age of two hundred.”

  “I told you a wizard would be acknowledged as an adult at that age. Maturity is not an award for age, Jaxon. It is gained through wisdom and knowledge. It is obvious you have not acquired enough of either to assist you with your great plans to take over the world.”

  Jaxon folded his arms, a perfect imitation of his father’s former stance. “And you think to teach me?”

  At once, the door flew open, banged against the far wall. A hearty gust of wind billowed inside, pushing back the sweeping strands of Jaxon’s long, brown hair. Framed in the open doorway, steel gray hair swirling around his head, Falcon, leader of the Assembly of Wizards, stood proud and tall. His eyes swept over the scene, missed nothing. “No, I will teach you.” The words echoed against the walls, bounced around the air. “Jaxon, you will come with me.”

  “I will not.” Jaxon stood his ground.

  Charlemaine gasped. “Jaxon, you cannot oppose him. Falcon is the master wizard. Your powers are ineffectual against his.”

  Jaxon refused to back down, to admit defeat. “We shall see.”

  Falcon’s eyes twinkled. “I like your style, young Jaxon. I do not however care for your insolence. You will come with me. I can see I have been remiss in your training. We shall begin immediately.”r />
  “I have plans,” Jaxon responded in a harsh tone of voice. “Plans that do not include sitting under your tutelage until you deign I am fit for proper service in the Assembly.”

  Falcon waved a hand in the air and smiled. “Suddenly you are free for the evening. Your human,” his lips curled slightly at the word, “friends have conveniently forgotten you were to join them. In fact they have all developed a sudden desire to go home, to be with their families. Now that your plans have changed, you will come with me. And before you speak again, Jaxon, I should warn you I do not intend to repeat myself. You may walk with me like a man or—” he stopped, silver eyes settling on Charlemaine’s face, “Shall I complete the sentence in front of your mother?”

  Anger burned the back of his throat. Jaxon wanted to lash out, to strike against those who meant well. For those were the same who did not understand him. Would never understand him. They were fools, settling for the small pieces of the world when, with their powers, they could have it all. That was his intention, to take, to rule, to win.

  And Falcon must see it. That was why he was here now. He had to see Jaxon’s hunger for control, the need to dominate. And Jaxon couldn’t help but wonder if deep down inside the old wizard’s ancient heart, he felt a rippling of unease.

  Falcon had witnessed firsthand the strength of Jaxon’s will, the power behind the whisper of his mind and he knew that, without control, Jaxon would be a formidable enemy. Perhaps that was what had led the elder here tonight—worry that one day Jaxon would become the stronger of the two.

  “I’m waiting for your decision, Jaxon.”

  Pride dictated he walk out of the room of his own free will. “I will go with you but do not think you have won.”

  Falcon’s shoulders relaxed only slightly. “This is no battle. There are no winners or losers unless we give in to our greed.”

  Jensen placed his hand on Falcon’s shoulder as Jaxon stepped out into the black night. “Tell me it isn’t too late.”

  Falcon swept a look toward Jaxon’s broad shoulders. “There is always hope. We shall have to believe that the young wizard’s will can be harnessed, that he will not use the power of the wizards for evil.” He flicked the door shut behind him as he stepped out to join his young charge. “Now, Jaxon, shall we go?” He didn’t give the young man time to respond before he clamped a hand down on his shoulder and disintegrated into thin air, taking his reluctant protégé with him.

  Chapter One

  Present Day—Earth

  “Stop pulling at my arm, Belinda, I’m coming.” Tess Montgomery shouldered her leather purse and tried to keep pace with her best friend as they marched along the covered walkway leading to the auditorium. “I can’t imagine why you’re in such a hurry anyway. You’ve never liked art. Care to share why you’re suddenly so interested in Impressionist paintings?”

  Belinda smiled and winked over her shoulder, staying two steps ahead of her friend. “Well, I thought I might broaden my horizons a bit.”

  The suspicious feeling she’d been battling all day returned. Tess knew she should probably listen to it. After all, the last time Belinda Hilton talked about broadening her horizons, Tess ended up in a strip club in a seedy part of town while men whose eyes she couldn’t meet, gyrated in front of her with dollar bills stuck into the waistband of their g-strings. So odds were good she should probably listen to that inner voice which was telling her to run like hell. But it was too late. Belinda had already pushed the heavy wooden door open and, bracing it with one heel, waved frantically to Tess.

  “Come on. We want to get a good seat.”

  Tess started to remind her friend that the seat didn’t really matter in a silent auction as her money assured her an assigned position but instead she just shook her head and moved into the room filled with Charleston’s top society.

  She knew she blended in well in her cream linen suit and her long, chestnut-colored hair swept up on top of her head in an elegant chignon. With her nails perfectly manicured and makeup artfully applied, she mingled well with the ladies of high society. After all, her mother had taught her well but, if the truth were told, Tess was more comfortable in jeans and T-shirt than she was in expensive silk.

  She moved through the throng of ladies, murmuring appropriate greetings and well wishes, her private school manners holding her in good stead. She paused long enough to accept an invitation to tea from Mrs. Barnsworth and a compliment from Teensy Malone before gliding to the cushioned chair with her nameplate on the back. Her mother would be so proud. She almost shuddered at the thought.

  Belinda settled in beside Tess and practically bounced with excitement.

  “What’s wrong with you? I haven’t seen you this worked up since Ed asked you out for your first date,” Tess asked.

  Belinda’s smile was firmly in place, her eyes glowing. “You’ll see.”

  A small furrow appeared between Tess’ normally smooth brows. “I’ll see what?” The curtain on stage began to move and with it came a small feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. “Talk to me, Belle. Tell me what I’m supposed to be seeing.”

  “Just look.” Belinda pointed toward the stage.

  Tess turned and immediately knew something was amiss. Auctions didn’t have announcers dressed in flashy tuxedos wearing gamin grins and too much hair gel. And art auctions didn’t make the women of Charleston society titter. And there was definite tittering going on behind her. In fact Teensy had begun to wave a fan frantically back and forth in front of her face as if attempting to ward off a swoon. If indeed women still swooned.

  The uneasiness intensified when the announcer’s booming voice encompassed the room. “Good evening, ladies, and welcome to the first annual Bachelor’s Auction benefiting the children of Caring Hearts Home. My name is Adam Walker and I’ll be your host this evening.”

  Tess’ head began to swim and she clutched her perfectly manicured fingers into Belinda’s forearm. “What’s going on here? You told me this was an art auction. You lied to me.” She looked over her shoulder as if afraid that any minute her mother would come marching into the room. She couldn’t imagine what would happen then. No doubt pandemonium would ensue.

  “No, I told you it was a charity auction. You assumed it was an art auction and I just let you ramble on and on about how you could possibly use another piece for your living room. And once you start talking about art, well, there’s practically no interrupting you.”

  Tess tugged her jacket closer around her body and tossed dismayed glances over her shoulder but the matrons behind her didn’t seem to be having a problem with the type of auction. She sighed inaudibly. “I was an art history major.” The words came out sounding as defensive as she felt.

  Belinda yawned. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just one more thing to impress your mother but you can’t convince me you don’t get bored out of your skull sometimes. There has to be a tiny bit of rebel inside of you.”

  There was no doubt in Tess’ mind that this was one of Belinda’s harebrained ideas to get her close to a man and maybe, just maybe, another chance for her friend to thumb her nose at the matriarch of the Montgomery family, Colleen. The pair had never gotten along, not since Belinda’s aged pickup had left a rather large oil stain in the circular driveway of Colleen’s four-million-dollar mansion. Words had been exchanged and, while Colleen’s anger manifested itself more passively, Belinda always chose the more direct approach. Definitely not a pleasant memory.

  “Oh look,” came a whispered voice behind her, drawing Tess’ eyes to the stage.

  Admittedly her interest had been piqued. To save face, she added for Belinda’s ears only, “You’ll pay for this and I’m withdrawing my bids.”

  “Can’t do that. The bidding has already been closed. All they’re going to do now is parade the men out one at a time and we get to ooh and aah over them and pray our money was enough to land us one of them.”

  “Land us? Please tell me you didn’t bid.”

  Belinda’s
nose wrinkled. “Well, of course I bid. Ed’s out of town.”

  Sure the horror she felt in the pit of her stomach must be etched on her face, Tess nudged her friend with her arm. “You’re married!”

  Belinda grinned. “I know that but I could use some help around the house while Ed’s out of town and I certainly didn’t want one of those guys who doesn’t know how to buy big enough pants to cover his crack. Now keep looking. Maybe you’ll be one of the lucky ones.”

  “I don’t want to be one of the lucky ones. I want to get out of here.” She started to get up but Belinda’s nails scored her arm.

  “Please, don’t leave yet. You’ll miss the good part.”

  Tess doubted there was a good part but she sank back against the plush cushion of the padded chair anyway. “You told me you were bidding on a piece of art for me.”

  “I told you I was bidding on a piece of work for you. And believe me, this guy is a real piece of work.” Blue eyes glittering, Belinda chuckled. “Don’t worry. I think you’ll like him.”