Free The Wicked and the Wondrous by Christine Feehan Page B

directions and herding the fog back toward the ocean. Kate looked translucent, her skin pale and beaded with moisture, wisps of hair clinging to her face, but she didn’t falter. Her voice brought a sense of peace, of tranquillity, of something beautiful and satisfying. It filled Matt with longing for a home and a family of his own. It filled him with a deep sense of pride and respect for Kate Drake.
    He watched the fog reluctantly retreat until it was far out over the ocean, dissipated by the force of the wind. There was a silence left behind in the vacuum of the tempest. Kate dropped her arms as if they were leaden. She staggered. He leaped forward to catch her before she collapsed, swinging her into his arms and cradling her against his chest.
    “It’s growing in strength. I couldn’t have sent it away if my sisters hadn’t helped.” Kate looked up at him with frightened eyes.
    Matt kissed her. It was the only thing he could think to do. She seemed weightless in his arms. He kissed her eyes and the tip of her nose and settled his mouth, feather-light over hers. “It’s all right now, Kate. Rest. You sent it away. Tell me what you need.” He could see that every drop of her strength had been used up in fighting the unseen enemy in the fog. She’d made a believer out of him. He was a man of action, having spent several years in the service training to protect his countrymen, yet there had been nothing he could do to stop the evil shadow in the mist. “What is it?”
    She rubbed her face tiredly against his jacket. “I don’t know, Matthew, I honestly don’t know.”
    “How did you know what to say to it? What language it would understand?”
    “I didn’t know. I was using a healing chant my family has passed down from generation to generation. I was attempting to heal its spirit.”
    He stared at her, trying not to look shocked. The dark shadow seemed beyond any sort of redemption to him, something dark and dangerous, looking for a chance to strike out at anything or anyone around it.
    Kate looked at the wreaths strewn all over the road. “Strange that he would choose to attack us with the wreaths.”
    “Strange that it could use them at all. Do you think it’s a he?”
    She shrugged. “It felt male to me.”
    The adrenaline was beginning to subside, but he continued to eye the cliffs warily. “I’m never going to look at fog again in the same way.”
    “A wreath is a continuous circle, Matthew, and it symbolizes real love, unconditional, true affection that never ceases.” Her voice was thoughtful.
    “I didn’t feel love flowing out of the fog,” he answered. He began walking back in the direction of her house, Kate in his arms.
    “But he tore the Christmas wreaths off every door on the street and threw them.”
    “At us,” he said grimly. “I’m used to looking my enemy in the eye, Katie, fighting him with weapons or my bare hands. I couldn’t exactly grab the fog and throttle it, although I wanted to.”
    “Put me down, Matthew, I’m too heavy for you to carry all that way.”
    “I was a Ranger for ten years, Katie, I think I can pack your weight with no problem.”
    She wasn’t going to argue, she was just too drained. “Ten years. That’s right, you joined right out of college. I’ve been wandering around so much, and I knew you didn’t live here, but your family always made it seem as if you were here.”
    “I spent my leave here, every chance I could. I picked up my life here again immediately after I got out of the service because the family business was waiting for me. My father and brothers kept me a part of it, even though they did all the work.”
    “Why did you join the Rangers, Matthew? As soon as I heard, I researched what they were all about. It was very—” she hesitated, searching for the right word—“intense. And frightening. Why would you want to do something like that?”
    “I’ve always needed to push myself to find out my limits. And I believe in my