Rowena's Revenge (Broadus Supernatural Society) by Theresa Marguerite Hewitt Page A

roll my eyes, waving my arms toward the woods,
summoning the Berserkers under my control to come back to me. I don’t care if
they’ve been injured; I need their speed and tracking skills. Plus, they have
people skills where I am lacking.
    Well, not really lacking; it’s just that I could care less
what these pathetic excuses of life think of me. They are beneath me. I am Cearbhall , centuries old Warlock, and I am on the brink of
completing my destiny. I just need that pretty little snow leopard and her
fire, and then I will be able to change the world into what it should be; a
dark, magic filled realm where supernaturals are the
overlords and humans are the slaves.
    Looking back to my slave, I have to sigh heavily again at
his anticipation filled look, staring at me and waiting for my reply to his
question. “ Gandion , did I forget to put in some of
the brain matter when I reanimated you back in the Revolutionary War?”
    “I’m not sure, Sir, I can’t remember anything after being
shot and before the lightning,” he replies like he always does when I ask him
the same, mockingly rhetorical question.
    Throwing my head back and rubbing the space between my eyes,
I relate the plan to him again, for the hundredth time as we make our way back
into the woods. I really do need to find, or make, some servants worthy of my
presence.
    “We cannot just go after her because of a few things, Gandion . First, she is part Fae and Kade watches over all
of his blood line. If I fall under his radar, I am as sure as dead. Second, she
is part of my destiny; she must come to me willingly and sacrifice her fire.
Then, and only then, will the circle be complete and I will own her body, mind,
and soul.” The thought of having that little minx as my own, to do with what I
want and when I want, strikes a chord that I haven’t been bothered to notice in
over a hundred years.
    “You won’t kill her, Sir?” He asks with a child-like wonder,
and I smile down at him as he limps beside me, trying to keep up. He is dumb,
but he’s loyal to a fault and I have to hand it to him; he’s helped me defeat
more of my enemies than I’d like to admit.
    “No, I won’t kill her. After she gives me her fire, her mind
will be mine to occupy and she will be my willing slave. The men she is with on
the other hand, will suffer every kind of torture I
can think of. Especially my dear friend Penton; we have some history to hash
out.”
    Another good thing about Gandion is that he knows when to keep quiet, and as we trudge through the snow,
spotting the Berserkers waiting up ahead for us, he leaves the conversation
alone. He starts to hum some nonsensical tune as my mind floats back to when I
first met the Prince of Elves.
    There had been a huge influx in dark magic, calling me to a
small village in the Highlands of Scotland where I met the Prince of Elves,
Penton, and his siblings, including his brother, Bronton. They were a rowdy,
evil pair; leaving deflowered virgins and dead cattle in their wake, but when
Penton met Helen, everything changed.
    The fire haired beauty stole his will to be who he was, and
he wanted to marry her; the disgusting idea of someone of his stature and power
trading his birthright to live a mortal life with a woman enraging his entire
family. His brother had come to me then, asking for my help in seducing and
capturing the alluring and innocent Helen. Our two evil minds had laughed and
plotted, going through all of the village’s wenches while we planned poor
Penton’s heart breaking.
    I had been the one to approach sweet and beautiful Helen as
she shopped in the market, telling her that Penton wanted to meet her by the
secluded creek at dusk, and being naïve and head over
heels in love, she just agreed and went on her merry way. She never knew what
was coming as she hummed to herself when she approached the hidden Bronton and I . But, as soon as the blonde haired brother of her love
appeared, she knew something was