Free Sword of the Raven by Diana Duncan Page B

emblazoned across his left shoulder-blade. The one other thing he wouldn’t discuss, besides his last name. “Basics, first. When was the last time you ate? Real food.”
    “Hey, Cheetos are soul food. And it was this morning.” In her car, after she’d seen the eerie blood markings Rowan had left on her door. Like the symbols Connor had put on her palm. She forced her right hand to unclench, and stared down at it. Shock stole her breath.
    They were gone.
    Her skin was unmarred. Even if the writing had smeared off, dried blood would stick in the creases.
    But her palm looked perfectly clean.
    The room tilted. What was real and what wasn’t? She didn’t know anymore. “Archer,” she whispered. “I have to tell you—” I found an amulet and a naked Scottish hunk on the beach, and then the whole world got wacko. She tried, but could not make her mouth work correctly.
    Nay, Rowan warned. You cannot tell anyone! Especially not him.
    Archer propped his elbows on the countertop. Behind him, the hissing espresso machine belched steam. “I’m listening.”
    “I…um—” I know this sounds certifiable. The guy painted scary symbols on the door with blood. She struggled to force the words out, but couldn’t make a sound. And I think his consciousness has somehow merged with mine.
    The pressure inside her skull hit excruciating levels, like her brain might explode any second. Her vision grayed at the edges. Dear God, was she having a stroke?
    You’re absolutely healthy, Rowan’s lyrical burr soothed persuasively. Just inexperienced and exhausted. No use fighting it, luv, you can’t win. You need rest. Surrender to me.
    Never! “I’m really tired,” she was horrified to hear herself parrot to Archer, totally against her will. “I need rest.”
    Quit that! she screamed silently at Rowan. I will not be manipulated!
    You want to obey me. Go to bed. Now.
    Unable to resist the compulsion, she continued, “I’ll skip the food for now. And…just go to bed.”
    Archer frowned, then shrugged. “Okay. Grab a nap in my bed. I’ll fix you something to eat when you wake up.”
    Archer, help me! But like an obedient little automaton, she got up and jerkily walked into his bedroom.
    Lie down, the deep brogue ordered.
    She had no choice but to stretch out on Archer’s king-sized four-poster bed and cover herself with the downy throw.
    Aye, there’s a good lass, Rowan purred.
    Languid warmth flooded her limbs, infusing her with euphoric pleasure. Seducing her. Satisfying a deep craving she didn’t even know she’d possessed.
    When the journey beckons, don’t be afraid to follow. Sleep sweet, Delaney.
    Summoning her final scrap of strength, she flung out a mental slap. Go suck ditch water, Braveheart.
    If only you knew… The last thing she heard was Rowan MacLachlan’s rumbling laughter.

    * * *

    Relaxed, rejuvenated, and slightly giddy, Delaney stepped out of the steamy, berry-shampoo scented shower enclosure in Archer’s luxurious bathroom. As she blotted her hair with a towel, dusky twilight clouds drifted past the fogged windowpanes. Geez, she’d slept four straight hours. She’d probably be owly until dawn.
    She skimmed the towel down her body, wrapped it around herself, and then stood in front of the vanity mirror to weave her long damp curls into a French braid. Just as well, because it was going to take forever to clarify today’s events for Archer and Vanessa.
    Delaney tensed, staring at the charm secured around her neck. She would tell them. Arms behind her head, she hesitated, listening warily for Rowan’s reprimand. The bathroom remained silent. Hopefully, the delusions had fled along with her headache while she’d napped. She felt mostly normal again, aside from the odd intoxicated buzz, but in the morning she’d make an appointment for a check-up.
    When she’d awakened, Archer reported that Zack had called thirty minutes after she zonked out. The riot had been quelled, Connor was safe. However,