Under Witch Aura (Moon Shadow Series) by Maria E Schneider Page B

from
reaching Mother Earth.
    White Feather stopped
breathing. He
drew me close, my back tight against his front. “Shh,” he
whispered in my ear.
    I tried to ground us both
as I had at
the cabin, hoping to keep whatever it was away from him.
    The length of his body was
hard against
mine, but his magic was gone. Completely shut down. I reached behind
me, anchoring my hand around his arm, but even then, there was
nothing but a man tensed and ready to fight.
    We stood, both of us
holding our
breath. White Feather took a quick sip of air, but held it again.
Puzzled, I followed his example. From his tight hold on me, it was
obvious he was angry, but he had tamped down so completely on his
power, his warlock aura was invisible.
    How could he do that? My
power was
strongest in my home, but...yes, perhaps more under my control than
anywhere else.
    The tiniest of breezes
touched my hand
through the closed window. Needles stabbed. My silver flared hot
across my wrist. I looked down at my hand expecting blood, but
instead realized that I
still held
the witching fork with Sarah’s aura.
    “Moonlight
madness!” I held the fork up, gaining White Feather’s
attention. Sarah’s aura seemed to attract the ill wind; it must
be linked to her somehow. Every time White Feather used wind around
Sarah's essence it drew the prickling wind like a magnet.
    White Feather grabbed the
fork and
shoved the window open. I would have worked the screen free, but he
tossed the fork with such force, the screen blew outward.
    His anger rocketed the
screen and fork
away as though propelled by a mini tornado. A strange, almost dead
calm engulfed us while the witching fork spun away end over end.
    White Feather drew his
power back then,
but it was too late. A vacuum sucked up the witching fork as if were
the best of the Halloween candy. It splintered into tiny pieces,
lost in a swirl of wind.
    Instead of a satisfied
burp, the hungry
zephyr bounced as it tested the air. A tendril, like an arm, funneled
our way. The main rotation touched the ground and started growing.
    White Feather cursed. He
clamped down
completely again, but the wind circulated in bursts, sucking in dirt
and sand. When the dirt devil had enough momentum, it began to move
toward us.
    “Go!” White Feather grabbed
me around the waist and propelled me into the hallway. My eyes
remained fixed on the tunnel of wind, wondering if it would do any
good to pull at the earth elements joining the fray.
    With me in tow, White
Feather rushed
down the hallway and into the master bedroom. “Time to hide.”
    “Hide?” I squeaked. “How
do you hide from the wind?”
    “That thing, whatever it
is, has
never responded to me. I can’t control it.” White
Feather braced his arms against the dresser. It slid sideways,
revealing a narrow hallway lined with tree roots.
    There wasn’t time for White
Feather to explain, but I needed no urging. The wind outside had
risen to a roar.
    The moment we were both
tucked inside,
he slid the dresser back in place. White Feather’s harsh
breaths punctuated the darkness next to me. I worked to quiet my own
breathing.
    I wasn’t certain where we
were,
but magic radiated all around us. You'd have to be dead to miss it.
The beat was Mother Earth, but more than that, it was the lifeblood
of the desert, earth and forest.
    My silver sang as it joined
the choir
of sand, soil, water, and that which had turned into the magic of a
bountiful tree. I molded myself as close to White Feather as
possible, surrounding him with my magic, happily burying us both in
the earth around us.
    “Grandfather came to this
spot on
his vision quest.” White Feather's voice was barely audible. “He
found a stand of mesquite with a single oak and a cedar tree. He
added other tree roots as he carved and infused his own magic here.”
    “Incredible.” My skin
tingled from the warmth of it. “I thought your grandfather was
a wind witch?”
    White Father gave a low
chuckle. “I
never said