Now or Never: Wizards of Nevermore by Michele Bardsley Page A

the counter.
    He eyed the girl and then Taylor. “Rough morning?”
    “I’ve had better,” he said. “Call Gray and Lucy, will you? We’ll need Ember, too.”
    “Done,” said Ant. “Which bedroom upstairs?
    “Mom’s.”
    Ant nodded. After their mother passed away, the kids had cleaned out her room. Clothes went to charity, pictures and decorations were packed, and knickknacks were divided. The antique furniture remained. Taylor had replaced the mattress and the pillows. Every other week, either he or Ant laundered the sheets and quilts—quilts his mother and his grandmother had sewn with their own hands—and remade the bed.
    But no matter how clean they kept it, or how blank the walls and empty the dressers, the memories stayed the same. It was their mother’s bedroom, whether or not she was still around to occupy it. It was also the only other room upstairs with a suitable bed.
    It took some effort to pull down the covers, especially with a lax, injured woman in his arms, but he managed. He tucked her in, and then he went into the little bathroom, which still smelled like the roses his mother had loved so much, and wet a washcloth. By the time he placed it on her forehead, Gray, Lucinda, and Ember were walking through the door.
    Relief shuddered through Taylor. What was going on with this woman was way outside his comfort zone. All the same, she was his responsibility.
    At least until he figured out who she was—and why the hell he’d been dreaming about her.
    His friends had gotten here fast, which meant they’d used the magical portals that the first Dragon Guardians had created for the convenience of Nevermore’s populace. Many of the locations had been forgotten over the years, but Gray and Lucinda had been finding and mapping them, and the portals were more in use nowadays. He’d been surprised to find out that his farm had one; Joe had never mentioned it—maybe he hadn’t known about it. But the man had kept some secrets. Taylor had no doubt the old man had been protecting the location of the
nemeton
.
    As usual, Ember wore her special glasses: One side was purple tinted, and the other was blacked out completely. She was a prophet of the Goddess, and she had been given the ability to see the spiritual soul of humans—not always a pretty picture; thus the need for her protective eyewear. She was over six feet tall and wore a violet-striped dress that clung to her curvaceous form, and a pair of gray high-heeled boots. Her long hair was a mass of tiny black and purple braids.
    Lucy was shorter and leaner. Her feet were in sneakers, and she was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt too big for her. A brunette with moss green eyes, she had an inner glow that had a little to do with her magical powers and a lot to do with the man standing at her side, her husband, Gray.
    “Who is she?” asked Lucy as she leaned over and peered at the woman’s face.
    “I don’t know,” said Taylor. “I found her in the woods. She was naked as a jaybird and cut all to hell. Damned near took my head off before she fainted.”
    “She say anyting?” Ember’s Jamaican accent faded in and out like a badly tuned radio. The stronger her emotions, the stronger her accent—and it was thick as mud right now.
    “Nothing,” said Taylor. “It’s almost as if she can’t.”
    That statement got Gray’s and Lucy’s attention, too.
    “What do you mean?” asked Gray.
    “She didn’t say a word. She cried without making a sound. It was as though her voice were turned off.”
    Ember nodded. “Dat’s what I thought. Somebody don’ wan’ her to talk, so dey bound her voice.”
    “That kind of spell would be strong,” mused Gray, “but limited. Probably a few days at most.”
    “Unless it was demon magic,” said Lucy softly. She’d been cursed with Pit magic and had barely survived. Taylor knew how badly she had suffered—and how difficult it had been to get free of that evil. His stomach clenched as he gazed at the pale