A Veiled & Hallowed Eve

by Hailey Turner

  “We can always turn around,” Jono said softly after a few minutes had passed.

  Patrick shook his head, finally undoing his seat belt. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The invitation had included brunch, though Patrick wasn’t sure who was going to be present or if he’d be able to stomach food. He knew the names and faces of some of his extended family from written reports and news segments. A couple of aunts and uncles, because Clara hadn’t been an only child; younger cousins he struggled to recall from a childhood visiting this house, but always drawing a blank where memories were concerned.

  He supposed it was time to make new ones.

  They got out of the car, the cold, biting wind smacking Patrick in the face and slipping beneath his leather jacket. The warming charms embedded in it kept him from feeling chilly, and his dagger and handgun were a comforting weight within easy reach. Jono’s support was what got his feet moving though, the warm hand finding his holding on with a firm grip.

  He made sure his personal shields were locked down tight before they started walking. Patrick let himself be led to the house beside the water, the unfenced front yard wilting beneath the autumn season settling over Salem. He could sense the powerful wards laid down on the property before they even reached it, the magic pricking against his shields with a familiarity that felt strange. Blood would always call to blood, and his magic recognized this place even if he didn’t.

  Curtains on the first-floor window were drawn shut, but they twitched a little as he and Jono came to a stop in front of the house, as if someone didn’t want to be seen peering out.

  “Do you think it’s just the Pattersons inside?” Jono asked.

  “The SOA has the house under watch. I’m doubtful Eloise would’ve agreed to an agent being embedded in her home. They’re probably around here somewhere though.”

  Jono glanced at him, wolf-bright blue eyes full of concern. “Ready?”

  No wasn’t an answer Patrick could give.

  Instead, he nodded and stepped onto the cement pathway that led from the sidewalk to the front door. He let go of Jono’s hand, wiping his own suddenly clammy ones on his jeans. Heart pounding, Patrick took the steps up to the front door, Jono right behind him. He was reaching for the doorbell when the door opened, and he found himself staring into a middle-aged blonde woman’s face, recognition sliding through his magic.

  The witch wasn’t his grandmother, but the family resemblance to her was strong. Slim and dressed in a dark green woolen coat dress and brown boots, she stared at Patrick with blue eyes that were a little damp.

  “Oh,” she said, covering her mouth with one hand. “Oh, hello, Patrick. Welcome home.”

  He stared at her, tongue unmoving in his mouth. It took a few seconds before he managed to shake himself free of his uncertainty and cleared his throat. “Madelyn?”

  His mother’s younger sister let out a soft, watery huff of a laugh. “Yes, I’m your aunt Madelyn.”

  Patrick nodded, head jerking a little in Jono’s direction. “This is Jono.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Jono said, managing a small, polite smile for the both of them.

  If Madelyn seemed uncertain about inviting a god pack alpha werewolf into her mother’s home, she didn’t show it, though Patrick couldn’t be sure about scent. “Please, both of you, come in. Your grandmother and the rest of the family can’t wait to see you, Patrick.”

  Madelyn moved back and held the door open. Patrick steeled himself and stepped inside, passing over a threshold that felt more welcoming than any other save the one wrapped around their apartment in Manhattan.

  Stairs in the tiny foyer led up to the second floor. French glass doors were opened into an empty sitting room. A second door was partway open to a half bath down the short hallway. A small side table was situated by the front door, but it held no bread or drink.

  “Hospitality?” Patrick asked, not sure about the customs the Pattersons or Salem Coven adhered to.

  “You’re family,” Madelyn said firmly as she closed and locked the front door. “There’s no need for hospitality.”

  Patrick thought that was a breach of security, but it wasn’t his place to say anything. Madelyn beckoned at them to follow her down the short hallway to the rear of the house. Patrick hesitated and only started walking when Jono touched a hand to the small of his back, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

  “I’m right here,” Jono reminded him.

  Knowing that made it easier for Patrick to step into the open area that contained the home’s kitchen and living area, the walls full of windows and glass doors looking out onto a large backyard and the water beyond its shores. Patrick’s mind distantly catalogued the dangers the windows provided to someone with a long gun and good aim, but most of his attention was on the people seated and standing in the living room.

  Faces that shared bits of his own features stared back at him, some with tears in their eyes, others with frank curiosity. A bolt of recognition burned through his magic, picking out the magic in the room, and he was surprised to discover that everyone present was a magic user of some sort.

  Patrick let his gaze drift over everyone assembled before focusing on his grandmother, who sat between two men who had to be his mother’s brothers. They looked too much like Eloise and Madelyn to be anything else but family.

  Eloise stared at him, blue eyes wide in a pale face that made her minimal makeup stand out starkly against her skin. The tears pooling in the corners of her eyes were carefully dabbed away by the tissue clenched in one wrinkled hand.

  “I never thought…” Her genteel voice trailed off, and she swallowed thickly, lips trembling. “Patrick. It’s so good to see you.”

  She sounded like she meant it, but some part of Patrick wasn’t sure he could believe her. It’d been twenty-two years, after all. Staring at the Pattersons made him realize they had probably spent all that time never forgetting his and Hannah’s and their mother’s absence while he’d done his best to never look back.

  “Sorry, I…don’t really remember you,” Patrick managed to get out after the silence lingered a little too long.

  Eloise sniffed delicately before trying to stand. One of her sons—Finley, his younger uncle—immediately stood and offered his mother a hand. Like Madelyn, Finley was blond, though Grant, now the oldest in the wake of Clara’s death all those years ago, was a redhead like Eloise.

  Like Patrick.

  It was really fucking weird seeing people who looked like him.

  Eloise patted her son’s arm in a silent thank-you before approaching where he and Jono stood on the outskirts of the group. She was shorter than he was, pale red hair neatly styled, and the pearls around her throat had tiny images engraved on them that he couldn’t quite make out but which might have been flowers. She looked at him with wonder and disbelief in her eyes, one hand lifting toward him before she managed to stop herself.

  “You remind me so much of my Clara,” Eloise said, voice breaking a little on her dead daughter’s name.

  Patrick wasn’t sure what to say to that.

  Eloise drew in a breath before carefully placing her hand on his left arm, her touch light. Patrick thought she would try to hug him, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He stiffened and forced himself not to jerk away. She must have sensed his unease because she didn’t try to embrace him.

  Eloise’s eyes shimmered a bit with tears that she managed to eventually blink back. “I know this must be overwhelming. It has been for me as well. But I want you to know we are all so, so glad to know that you are alive.”

  Patrick found himself out of his depth as he stared at his grandmother, not knowing what was expected of him in the face of her emotions and his own. He turned his head to look at Jono, trying not to panic and probably failing miserably judging by the way Jono stared back with concern in his eyes.

  “Let’s sit down for this chat,” Jono said, breaking the tableau.

  Sitting with furniture be
tween him and everyone else sounded great.

  Eloise drew her hand back, clearing her throat. “Yes, of course. Please have a seat, Jonothon.”

  He gave her a gentle smile that didn’t show any teeth. “Call me Jono.”

  “Jono, then.”

  Eloise stepped back, and Patrick went where Jono led, finding himself seated beside the other man on a love seat, both becoming the center of everyone’s attention.

  Patrick had felt less like he was about to undergo an interrogation in a federal courtroom than here in his grandmother’s home.

  “Would you like anything to drink?” Madelyn said, the cheerfulness in her voice sounding forced. “Coffee, perhaps? Tea?”

  “A cuppa would be great,” Jono said.

  “Coffee.” Patrick drew in a breath, trying to steady his nerves, and managed a quick flash of a strained smile. “Please.”

  “I’ll help,” a slender young woman said, getting to her feet. She appeared to be a couple of years younger than Patrick, most likely a cousin, and shared a resemblance with Madelyn that spoke of being a daughter.

  “Thank you, Brittany.”

  “So.” Grant stared at Patrick, taking him in before glancing over at Jono. “You’re a federal agent and a god pack alpha?”

  “Grant,” Eloise admonished.

  “It’s a fair question, Mother.”

  “Yes, I’m an SOA federal agent,” Patrick said, causing Grant to snap his mouth shut. “And yes, I’m also an alpha of the New York City god pack through Jono. I was with the Mage Corps for almost ten years before joining the SOA. Pretty sure all of that is public record at this point.”

  “So you really are a mage,” one of the redheaded cousins asked, leaning forward excitedly in his seat. He looked more like Finley’s son than Grant’s, despite the hair, and seemed to be the youngest person there. “You’re the only one in our generation who got that rank.”

  He gestured between himself and the other cousins. Patrick couldn’t parse the other man’s tone and simply stared at him long enough to make him uncomfortable. The young man coughed and looked away, flushing a little.

  “Don’t mind Easton,” a young woman with strawberry blonde hair said with a quick, nervous smile. “He’s studying genetics at Harvard and will talk your ear off about the relations between magic and science if you let him.”

  Patrick tried not to twitch. “Sounds interesting?”

  Maybe if he was drunk. Really drunk.

  “The table needs setting,” Madelyn called out pointedly.

  It seemed to be the siren call for everyone around Patrick’s age, because the five twentysomethings all got up and headed for the kitchen to help Madelyn and Brittany sort out the meal. The pretense of privacy didn’t really undo the knot of anxiety that had settled in his stomach. He wasn’t sure he could choke down the food, but he’d try.

  “You’re all witches and warlocks in the Salem Coven?” Patrick asked, grasping for something to get everyone else to talk so he wouldn’t have to.

  “We have members of the Salem Coven who are mundane. We don’t discriminate within our coven. Within our family, yes, everyone has magic. As to who are the strongest? Brittany is a sorceress,” Eloise said, sounding proud and fond. “Grant is a mage.”

  “Weather,” Grant said with a grunt.

  Only in the younger generation, not the older, was what Easton had said. The distinction was noticeable now. Patrick nodded. “That’s nice.”

  Nice, but a little strange that every single member of his mother’s family was a magic user. Only a quarter of the world’s population was capable of manipulating their soul’s energy into magic. Sometimes families had a handful of members over the course of generations with magic, but it was rare for everyone within a family line to have magic.

  “She’ll follow in her mother’s footsteps as high priestess of the Salem Coven when she’s older.” Eloise offered up a brittle smile. “Clara was supposed to take over my role as the oldest, and Hannah after her. But, well.”

  Her voice trailed off, and Patrick was grateful she didn’t try to explain the obvious.

  “Why didn’t you ever try to get in contact with us?” Grant asked bluntly.

  He didn’t sound accusatory, only curious. The question still put Patrick on the defensive.

  “I was warned not to for safety reasons,” Patrick said.

  “Yes, and I know you say you don’t remember us as a family, but weren’t you curious?”

  “Ethan wanted me dead. He still wants me dead. Setsuna told me when I became her ward that I’d be putting all of you at risk if you knew I was still alive.”

  Eloise’s lips pressed into a thin white line. “That woman. She as surely stole you from us as much as Ethan did.”

  “She was under orders because of the threat Ethan and the Dominion Sect represented.”

  As much as his relationship with Setsuna was strained these days, he could understand, in hindsight at least, why she’d done what she had all those years ago. Even if the gods hadn’t dragged him to her, Patrick thought she probably would’ve made the same choice to hide his identity.

  Madelyn came over with a mug in one hand and delicate teacup in the other. Jono carefully took his tea, hands dwarfing the teacup. Patrick took his coffee from her with both hands.

  “Cream and sugar?” Madelyn asked.

  “Uh, just cream. Thanks,” Patrick said.

  “Milk and sugar for me,” Jono said.

  Madelyn smiled at them. “Coming right up.”

  The coffee smelled good and tasted even better after a dollop of cream was poured into it. Patrick sipped at it carefully, half watching as his…cousins started setting up the long dining table by the window for brunch.

  Eloise smoothed her hands over the soft-looking fabric of her dress pants, prim and poised in a way that made Patrick feel out of place. “Ethan was always a problem, and I regret very dearly that we couldn’t keep all of you safe before Clara tried to leave him.”

  Patrick blinked at her. “She was going to leave him?”

  “Divorce papers were drawn up,” Finley said quietly. “My sister didn’t trust him at the end. We told her we’d go as a family and a coven to move her out, but she was stubborn.”

  “You wouldn’t know anything about being thick, Pat,” Jono muttered under his breath.

  Patrick politely elbowed him in the side. “Fuck you, I’m a ray of sunshine.”

  “Not before your alarm goes off. Or after, come to think of it.”

  “I will throw out your tea when we get back home.”

  “Got some right here, love.”

  Jono raised his teacup to show it off before taking a large swallow. Patrick rolled his eyes, trying not to smile, but it was a lost cause. When he dragged his attention away from Jono, he found his uncles and his grandmother staring at him with varied expressions on their faces, but at least none of them looked disgusted. Two of the cousins were whispering in the corner and glancing over at them as well, but the smiles on their faces weren’t mocking.

  “So you’re together?” Eloise asked, gaze flickering from Patrick to Jono. “Not just as alphas, but as a couple?”

  “We’ve been together since last year. We’ve no plans to separate, no matter what happens,” Jono said.

  “It’s good you have someone,” Finley said to Patrick. “I hope you know that you have us now as well.”

  “It will take time, I know,” Eloise said when Patrick hesitated too long, smoothing over the awkward pause. “But we are your family, Patrick. We would like to get to know you and—and your pack. We’d invite you into the coven if you would be comfortable with that in the future.”

  Patrick stared at her. “Uh.”

  “It’s a choice, not a requirement. You will still be family. Always.”

  Strange to think he had that now outside his pack. He wasn’t quite sure it felt real—everyone in this home was a stranger to him, even though they looked like him in some ways. His track
record with family was all with Ethan, and it was fucking terrible. Jono would be the first to tell him that side wasn’t family in any way that mattered.

  Jono settled his hand on Patrick’s thigh, fingers pressed over the straps of his dagger’s sheath. “It’s not something you need to decide right now.”

  Patrick nodded stiffly, glad to shove that decision off until later. Possibly way later.

  Madelyn came over with a tentative smile on her face. “We’re ready for brunch. If you’d all like to come join us at the table?”

  “Sure,” Patrick said.

  “Did you get the pomegranates while you were at the store, Maddie?” Eloise asked as she was helped to her feet by Grant.

  “Yes, a whole bagful. It’s nice that they’re back in season again.”

  “Pomegranates? Are they for a salad?” Patrick asked as he stood, wondering what was on the menu.

  Eloise smiled. “No, dear. They’re for the family’s altar. We worship the goddess Persephone in this home.”

  The ringing in his ears sounded like a siren, impossible to hear through. His lungs didn’t want to work, and he would’ve spilled hot coffee all over himself and the floor if Jono hadn’t caught the mug as it slipped out of his fingers. The nausea that had followed him out of Manhattan and seemed to settle after entering the home earlier crawled up his throat and slid over his tongue, refusing to be ignored.

  Patrick clapped a hand over his mouth, choking on bile. He stumbled past Jono and didn’t know how he made it to the hallway with the half bath, but he did.

  And proceeded to be violently ill into the toilet.

  “It’s been a stressful couple of months. The whole bloody mess with the trial and his job caused an ulcer he’s being treated for. The symptoms come and go,” Jono said from the hallway, lying through his damn teeth.

  “Oh, if we had known, we’d have been sure to have something he could eat at brunch,” Eloise said, sounding distraught.

  “We’ve potions on hand that could help with that,” Madelyn said.

  “He’s being treated back in Manhattan,” Jono said.

  Patrick spat the last bit of bile into the toilet, glad he hadn’t had anything but coffee all day. Ripping free some toilet paper with shaking hands, he wiped his mouth and nose before flushing it all away. Numb, he washed his hands and face, tried to wash the disgusting taste out of his mouth, but there was no hope there.