Long Lost Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  “Oh, Alastair. How could you not tell me? All this time, I had no idea,” she cried.

  He flinched when she ran her fingertips over the worst of his scars. “It should never be your burden to bear, Rorie,” he said hoarsely.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” She grabbed his arm and spun him to face her. “You were always my everything. And I was yours. How could you not share something this significant?”

  His eyes had shifted to a deep indigo, and pain radiated within their depths. He looked so tortured.

  She grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. “I love you, and when I hear you cry out from your nightmares then you hide from me for hours on end afterward, I…” She sucked in a deep breath. “That’s what I can’t bear. All this…” She waved a hand to indicate his back. “Yes, it makes me sad you suffered. It makes me want to rip Victor’s heart from his chest. But it’s the times you shut yourself away from me that are truly the unbearable moments. Please don’t hide from me anymore.”

  He cleared his throat and focused his attention over her shoulder. “It’s myself I hide from.”

  “Please, Alastair. It makes no difference to me. You didn’t ask for what they did. You have nothing of which to be ashamed.”

  “I don’t feel shame. I feel rage. A fury so strong that it pokes the beast in me to destroy everything and everyone.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “No. It seems the small thread of humanity I cling to stops me in time.” His gaze connected with hers. “I kept these scars to remind me and to fuel my plans for revenge. But when I’m with you, I simply want to forget.”

  “Then let me help you do that, too.”

  She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. It wasn’t a passionate kiss by any means. No, it was a kiss meant to express her love and understanding. It was soft and filled with gratitude that he survived all he had to come back to her. A kiss to show how much she appreciated what he’d done to bring her back. A kiss full of heartache, pain, love, and hope.

  When she drew back, Alastair grasped her wrist and turned to rest his cheek in her palm. He understood the message. Understood that she loved him beyond reason and would always be around for him should he need her to be.

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. With reverence, he set her down on the comforter and knelt over her. He trailed the tips of his fingers over the arch of her brow and down the side of her face. He didn’t stop until his right hand rested above her heart.

  Aurora was certain he felt the mad pounding of her pulse.

  “You are my entire world. I never wanted any of the ugliness associated with me to touch you. You are too beautiful and perfect for that to mar your life.” His opposite hand fisted in the coverlet beside her head.

  “Oh, Alastair. I’m so far from perfect,” she said. “You’ve always had me up a pedestal and refused to see my flaws. But I’m as human as they come; bad decisions, insecurities, and all.”

  His smile was slow and sweet. “Nah. I see your flaws, my love. But that only serves to make you more perfect to me. For me.” He leaned in and kissed her until her toes curled. His tongue bold and demanding. “I don’t want an angel,” he told her gruffly. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Indeed,” she murmured as she pulled him down atop her.

  21

  Life hadn’t been kind to Harold Beecham. Alastair had made sure of it. In his heart, he knew Beecham was responsible for killing Trina. Proving it had been a different matter altogether. Now, more than ever, he was convinced old Harold was dabbling in the finer arts of black magic. Why else would he be visiting a Voodoo priestess?

  Alastair glamoured into a goth young man with spiked, matte-black hair and piercings. The leather of his pants swished as he walked, making stealth impossible. No matter, he didn’t intend to go unnoticed. He only wanted Beecham to be dismissive of his person.

  Fooling Madame Delphine Foucher was another matter altogether. No one and nothing fooled Delphine. She was the high priestess of Voodoo here in New Orleans, and her powers were legendary. The truth had never reached the outside world, but she was actually the granddaughter to the love child of his grandfather’s cousin, Jonas Thorne, and a Creole woman. Thorne magic in addition to that of the black arts made her very powerful indeed.

  His gaze connected with the amber-eyed stare of Delphine as he entered her shop. Her eyes ran the length of his long, lanky form, and she smiled her amusement. “Be right with you, boy. But don’t be touching nothing in dis place, ya hear? Dems got powerful magic attached. Too powerful for you.”

  He nearly laughed at her heavy accent. She only put it on for the tourists, and in doing so, she had effectively helped him. Beecham would dismiss him as unimportant now that he believed Alastair was just a goth tourist trying to be cool.

  When Harold’s back was turned to him once again, Alastair blew Delphine a kiss. She didn’t acknowledge him, but the twinkle in her eye was unmistakable.

  From where he stood, he observed the back of Beecham’s balding head. Idly, he wondered at the man’s age. Most witches and warlocks didn’t age like non-magical humans, but still, Harold was looking a little rough. Did that have to do with the use of black magic? It took a toll on one’s soul and physical body.

  Alastair strained to hear the conversation between Delphine and Harold, but they were careful to keep their voices low enough that they didn’t carry. No matter. The priestess would tell him all in good time.

  After what seemed like an hour, Beecham left Delphine’s establishment looking none-too-happy. Satisfaction curled within Alastair. If the other man left without getting what he wanted, that was a bonus.

  “Nice disguise.” Delphine laughed as she crossed to him. She leaned in for a hug, all her beads clicking together as her colorful bangle bracelets clanked in musical accord. “I doubt that old stuffed shirt, Harold, recognized you. How are you, Alastair?”

  “Delphine, so lovely to see you, as always. Thanks for not giving away my game.”

  “Blood is thicker than water, no?”

  “Indeed, cousin. It is.” He nodded his head toward the door. “What did he want?”

  “A spell powerful enough to take down a Thorne. If I had to guess, you would be his target. He bears you no love, cousin.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Reflex had him attempting to straighten his cuffs. He chuckled when he realized he wore spiked bracelets where his usual cufflinks resided.

  “Wonderful touch to your costume,” she told him as she turned the lock on the door. “Come.”

  He followed her through a black-draped doorway to the back room. A steaming pot was set in the center of the table.

  “Join me for a cup of tea and tell me what you know.”

  Waving a hand to restore his natural form, he tugged up his slacks and sat at the two-person table. He accepted the floral teacup from her and smiled at how contrary it was to everything else in her space. “A proper British tea set.”

  “Your woman gave it to me years ago, before the war. I’ll treasure it always.”

  “Aurora is thoughtful that way.”

  “I’ve heard you were able to revive her. She is well?”

  He grimaced slightly. “As well as a person who spent twenty years in the Otherworld can be.”

  Delphine rose and went to a cupboard, withdrawing a jar of herbs. She shook out a decent amount into a clean handkerchief she had handy. After folding it up, she returned to the table and gave it to him. “Have her drink a cup a day for seven days. Her magic will be in full-force by the time she’s finished.”

  “Thank you. What do I owe you for it?”

  “Nothing. This is from one friend to another.”

  “Thank you, Delphine. I’ll be sure she takes it as prescribed.”

  “Good. Now tell me about Harold Beecham. It must be bad if you are following him.”

  “We think he intends to start another uprising.”

  She gasped, and a hand flew
to her throat. “Why in the Goddess’s name would he want to do a fool thing like that?”

  “Power. If he can use another war to take out anyone in a higher position than him, in addition to the remaining Thornes, he’ll do it.”

  Her amber eyes darkened to a muddy brown and narrowed on him. “The first war took too much from too many. If that zozo santi thinks he’s going to start another, he’ll have to go through me to do it!”

  “Did you just call him a dirty dick?” Alastair laughed and slapped his leg. “Darling Delphine, I believe I’ve just fallen head over heels for you.”

  She laughed with him, and the brightness of her smile against her creamy-mocha skin was stunning. “Don’t be telling your woman that, Alastair Thorne. If I remember correctly, she wasn’t one to be crossed.”

  “It’s why I love her. She’s full of fire.” Impulsively, he reached for her hand. “When everything is settled, do say you’ll come for a visit. Your daughter can run your shop for a bit.”

  Her eyes went cloudy, and her body jerked at the contact. She swayed back and forth as the candles flickered to life around them. Cold washed over him as he watched her channel the spirits of her ancestors.

  “Alastair Thorne,” she called him in a deep, husky tone, not her own. “Before the year is out, you shall lose one of your blood. The hole of his loss will never be filled.”

  The shock of her words caused him to yank his hand away. He stared in horror. Delphine’s predictions were legendary. If she foretold a death, that death would come. “‘His loss?’ Who did you see, Delphine?”

  She placed her fingertips on her temples and massaged the hollows. “I didn’t. The words were all I received from my ancestors. I’m sorry, cousin.”

  With a shaking hand, he lifted his teacup and gulped down the entire contents. Belatedly, he wished he’d turned the liquid into something much stronger. “Never mind about that now. Can you tell me what Beecham has asked of you in the past, and what specific spell he wanted you to create this time?”

  Alastair left with a detailed list and a grim expression. He arrived at his estate, surprised to find Preston and GiGi visiting with Aurora.

  “Perfect timing, brother!” GiGi exclaimed. “We were just about to have a restorative cup of tea and a chat.”

  He lifted his brows and glanced at the occupants of the living room. “Alfred is in England at Rēafere’s Fortress.”

  Aurora laughed and kissed his cheek in greeting. “Do you think I don’t know how to make tea, darling?”

  “Forgive me, I’m a little off at the moment.” He handed her the handkerchief with the herbs. “Here. I was just to see my cousin Delphine. She wanted me to give this to you. Apparently if you use it in place of your tea, it should restore your magic within the week.”

  “She’s such a dear. I’ll use it for my tea now.” She placed the tea leaves on the coffee table and excused herself.

  “What’s wrong, Al?” Preston asked after she left. “I can tell by now when something is bothering you.”

  “Delphine had a vision while I was visiting her.” He looked from his brother to his sister and back again. “She told me someone of my bloodline will die before the year is out.”

  Shock lit his siblings features.

  “But not who?” GiGi asked faintly.

  “A male is my best guess since she said, ‘the hole of his loss will never be filled.’”

  “That only leaves two of us,” Preston concluded. “Nash or myself.”

  “Is it possible it could be a distant cousin?” GiGi asked.

  “In all likelihood, I wouldn’t drastically mourn the death of a cousin I rarely connect with, sister,” he told her dryly. He met his brother’s worried amber-eyed gaze.

  Preston drummed up a smile. “Then I guess we’d better do what we can to protect Nash. The boy has become too near and dear to all of us.”

  Overcome, Alastair hugged his brother. “And you. You’ll take no chances in the coming months either. Promise me.”

  “When have you known me to be the reckless sort, brother?” Preston joked and pounded him lightly on the back. “We all leave that to you and Ryker.”

  Aurora returned, followed by a member of the security staff who was carrying the tea service.

  He frowned at his employee. “I thought today was your day off, Martin.”

  “Since he is taking care of your other estate, Alfred asked me to cover for him. He wanted to be sure you were adequately guarded, sir.”

  “He refuses to believe I can care for myself,” he muttered.

  Martin shook his bald head and placed the tray on the center of the table. “I believe he doesn’t wish to take any chances, sir. Shall I bring you anything else, ma’am?” he asked Aurora, adoration shining in his gaze.

  After Martin left, Alastair shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve turned a trained killer into a footman, Rorie. You leave a trail of admirers wherever you go. You can’t seem to help yourself, can you?”

  “Martin is a darling man. He was telling me about his grandmother’s gout. I gave him a recipe of GiGi’s that should help the poor dear.”

  “On that note, I still have a few business matters to discuss with Nash. Do you mind if I duck out of tea?”

  His sister waved him away. “Go. Do your business things. We want to catch up.”

  He nodded and met his brother’s confident gaze. “I’ll talk to you soon, Pres.”

  “What’s got him upset?” Aurora asked as she served up tea for her guests.

  “He received worrisome news. I’m sure he’ll tell you about it in due time,” Preston told her.

  She folded open the handkerchief containing the herbs and prepared the tea filter. “You would tell me if it’s bad?”

  “I would.”

  He wasn’t telling her the truth, but she let it go. Preston was right, Alastair would tell her the whole of it later when they were alone. He’d promised not to keep things from her.

  Before she could spoon the loose leaves into the filter, Preston leaned forward and sniffed.

  “What did Alastair say was in this?” he asked.

  “He didn’t, why?”

  “It has a distinct nutty smell. I was curious, that’s all. Will you pass the milk?”

  His hand fumbled the small pitcher, and he splashed the contents across the table, soaking her new tea. “Oh, hell! I’m sorry, Rorie.”

  Disappointment welled. While she was growing stronger with each infusion of magic Alastair provided, she wasn’t at full force. She’d hoped Delphine’s tea would have sped up the healing process. “It’s all right, Preston. I can visit her for more.”

  “I just remembered, I have a few business matters to take care of. I have my eye on a wonderful little antique dressing table. Since I’ll be down by Delphine’s to pick it up, how about I replace your tea for you?” He scooped up the handkerchief and its contents, then swept a hand over the table to clean up the mess he’d made. “You and GiGi enjoy your visit. I’ll be back with your new herbs tomorrow.”

  After he teleported, she turned to her sister-in-law. “This is why men and fine china don’t go together.”

  GiGi lifted her teacup. Before taking a sip, she shrugged.

  “Would you care to tell me what really happened while I was ordering the tea?” Aurora asked archly.

  22

  Preston popped into the narrow alley behind Delphine’s shop. Checking both ways, he removed a lock-pick set from his pocket. Satisfied nothing occupied the space but a pair of battered trashcans and a stray cat looking for its next meal, he went to work on the weathered backdoor. If he knew his cousin, she would have a spell in place to prevent him from magically opening the lock. Most witches and warlocks were so used to resorting to magic, they failed to make adjustments to their spells for non-magical means of entry.

  The pins shifted and the mechanism clicked. He swung the door wide and grinned. It had been many years since he’d had to gain entry to a building this way, bu
t it was still fun and spoke to the mischievous half of him.

  A sound came from his left, and he flicked his fingers to spark a flame and light the darkness. Delphine, dressed in a flowing black robe, stepped from the shadows.

  “Preston! Why didn’t you come in through the front door, cousin? Why the cloak-and-dagger routine?”

  He tossed her the bundle of herbs.

  “Ah.” She stared at the wadded-up cloth in her hand. “How did you know?”

  “It was a smell I recognized. You aren’t going to deny you tried to poison, Rorie?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Why, Delphine?”

  “The reason you even have to ask is why,” she snapped. “Those of us on the outskirts of this family are sick and tired of the messes the mighty Thornes make. Beecham threatened my daughter, Preston. My daughter!”

  “Why didn’t you come to me or Alastair? We would protect her.”

  “Because it’s too late. Beecham has Léonie hidden away. I can’t find her, no matter what magic I use.”

  “Where would he get a spell strong enough to cloak the truth from you?” He was puzzled. Delphine possessed the magic of the Thornes in addition to that of the Foucher line. Her voodoo roots ran deep.

  “From me. Many years ago.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He needed a way to cover up Trina’s death. I gave it to him.”

  Preston reeled from the news of her involvement. His brain scrambled to keep up. “Why?”

  “I didn’t initially know what he needed it for. I thought it was to hide the activities of the Witches’ Council. It was years later when I discovered the truth.”

  “Why didn’t you come to us then?”

  “Alastair was in a bad state over Aurora. He wasn’t fit to talk to because he would have torn down the magical world around us. You were nowhere to be found. What was I to do, Preston?” She waved a hand and sneered in his direction. “It’s always so simple for you. You always fall on the proper side of right and wrong. But would you be so quick to do the proper thing if it was one of your children’s lives at stake?”