Power of the Witch

Chapter 2

Rachel gathered her legs under her and jumped. One leap, straight up. She ignored the gasps, and a few shrieks, of the people around her as she sprang. At the top of her jump, she caught the railing that fanced off the upper-level walkway. She hung for a second by her hands, than pulled herself up smoothly. More people were staring. Rachel ignored them, they got out of her way as she headed for the Hallmark store. Meg was standing with her back to the display window of the store beside it. She was short, with long dark blond curls and a angelic face. Rachel edged up to her, careful to keep out of the line of sight of the Hallmark. "What's up?" "There's three of them." Meg murmured in a barely audible voice. "Just like Ruby said. I saw them go in and than I saw her. They've got her surrounded, but so far they're just talking to her." She glanced sideways at Rachel with glinstering blue eyes. "Only three, we can take them easy." "Yeah, and that's what worries me. Why would they only send three?" Meg shrugged slightly. "Maybe they're like us, the best." Rachel only acknowledged that with a flicker of her eyebrows. She was edging forward centimetre by centimetre, trying to get a glimpse of the interior of the Hallmark shop between the stockings and stuffed animals in the display window. There. Two guys in dark clothing almost like uniforms, vampire thugs. Another guy Rachel could see only as a partial silhouette through a rack of Christmas ornaments. And her, Rebecka, the girl every body wanted.

She was beautiful, almost impossibly so. Rachel had seen a picture, and it had been beautiful, but now she saw that it hadn't come within miles of conveying the real girl. She had the silvery-blond hair and grey eyes with violet specks that showed the Hartman blood. She also had an extraordinary delicacy of feautures and grace of movement that made her as pretty to watch as a white kitten on the grass. Although Rachel knew she was seventeen, she seemed slight and childlike, almost fairylike. And right now, she was listening with wide, trusting eye to whatever the silhouette guy was saying. To Rachel's fury, she couldn't make it out. He must be whispering. "It's really her." Meg breathed from beside Rachel, awed. "The witch Child. She looks just like the legends said, just like I imagined." Her voice turned indignant. "I can't stand to watch them talk to her. It's like... blasphemy.""Keep your hair on." Rachel murmured, still searching with her eyes. "You witches get so emotional about your lefends." "Well, we should. She's not just a Wild Power, she's a pure soul." Megara's voice was softly awed. "She must be so wise, so gentle, so farwighted. I can't wait to talk to her." Her voice sharpend. "And those thugs shouldn't be allowed to talk to her. Come on, Rachel, we can take them fast. Let's go." "Meg, we don't...!" It was too late. Meg was already moving, heading straight into the shop without any attemot at concealment. Rachel cursed again. But she didn't have any choice now. "Ruby, stand by. Things are going to get exciting." She snapped, touching her brooch, and then she followed.

Meg was walking directly toward the little group of three guys and Rebecka as Rachel reached the door. The guys were looking up, instantly alert. Rachel saw their faces and gatherd herself for a leap. But it never happend. Before she could get all her muscles ready, the silhouette guy turned.... And everything changed. Time went into slow motion. Rachel saw his face clearly, as if she had a year to study it. He wasn't bad-looking, quite handsome, actually. He didn't look much older than she was, and he had clean, nicely moulded feautures. He had a small, compact body with what looked like hard muscles under his clothes. His hair was dark brown, almost black, shaggy but shiny, almost like fur. It fell over his forehead in an odd way, a way that looked deliberatly disarrayed and was at odds with neatness of the rest of him. And he had eyes of obsidian, totally opaque. Shiny silver-black, with nothing clear or transparent about them. They revealed nothing; they simply threw light back at anyone who looked into them. They were the eyes of a monster, and every one of Rachel's five hundred voluntary muscles froze in fear. She didn't need to hear the roar that was far below the pitch human ears could pick up. She didn't need to see the swirl of dark energy that flared like a red-tinged black aura around him. She knew already, instinctively, and she tried to get the breath to yell a warning to Meg. There was no time... She could only watch as the boy's face turned towards Meg and power exploded out of him. He did it so casually. Rachel could tell that is was only a flick of his mind, like a horse slapping it's tail at a fly. But the dark power slammed into Meg and sent her flying through the air, arms and legs outstreched, until she hit a wall coverd with display plates and clocks. The crash was tremendous.

Meg! Rachel almost yelled it out loud. Meg fell behind the cash register counter, out of Rachel's line of sight. Rachel couldn't tell if she were alive or not. The cashier who had been standing behind the counter went running and screaming toward the back of the shop. The customers scatterd, some following the cashier, some dashing for the exit. Rachel hung in the doorway a second longer as they streamed out around her. Then she reeled away to stand with her back against the window of the next shop, breathing hard. There were coils of ice in her guts.

A dragon. He was a dragon.