by T. M. Cromer
“If that is a threat toward my children, we are going to have a problem, Delphine.”
“We have a problem anyway, cousin.”
A chill chased along his spine.
“How so?”
“I can’t let you run to your brother and tell him I tried to kill Aurora. He’ll destroy everything.”
“And how do you think to stop me?”
She smiled, and that smile was full of evil intent. He braced himself for whatever magic she intended to throw his way. It was the bullet through his back he hadn’t counted on.
* * *
As her dead cousin’s eyes stared at her accusingly, Delphine shuddered. “Dump his body in the woods of Leiper’s Fork, Tennessee. He’ll be found soon enough. His daughter’s husband-to-be is the sheriff of that small town.” She laid a hand on her lover’s arm. “Take this, Henri.” She handed him a bag of supplies containing a bottle of All Saints oil, a black candle, herbs, and a scroll. “Be sure to pour the oil on him. It will see him safely to the Otherworld where his people go after death. Sprinkle the herbs around his body and set them alight with the candle. As they burn, you speak the spell three times. Don’t rush it or it won’t work. And for the love of all that is unholy, don’t leave a clue that you were there.”
“Understood.”
“Before you burn his body, take a picture and send it to Harold. Tell him I want my daughter returned tonight.”
“It shall be done, my queen.” Henri lifted Preston’s lifeless form in his oversized arms.
She marveled at how powerful her cousin still looked even in death. It was as if, any second, he would wake and burn her home down around her. But he wouldn’t. A poison bullet to the heart would stop even the fiercest warriors.
Twenty minutes later, the last of Preston’s blood was removed from the old wood floors. However, she couldn’t seem to remove the vision of that bloodstain from her mind. She crossed a line tonight that would never allow her to go back. It wasn’t just with the Thornes, but between good and evil. A particular road she’d never intended to traverse—it led to nowhere good.
The saddest part was that she had admired Preston. Never once had he treated her with anything less than respect. No, Alastair was the problem, and Preston’s loyalty to his brother never wavered. When Preston’s wife ran off with his brother, he took it in stride. Sure, he’d been angry, and while Alastair was on the outs with his siblings, the truth was that had he been threatened, they’d all have his back.
For this reason, she knew true fear. If Alastair and GiGi found out that Delphine had their brother killed, they would wipe her from existence—along with her small family.
“Grand-mère?”
Delphine turned to her six-year-old grandson and smiled. “What is it, mon cher?”
“I heard a loud bang.”
She frowned. Henri had used a silencer on his gun. There had been no sound other than Preston dropping to the floor. The noise was a soft thud at best.
“You were dreaming.” She waved a hand around the parlor that doubled as her fortune telling business. “As you can see, nothing is wrong.”
“Who is that man?”
Startled, she spun around, her eyes darting about. “Where, Armand? Where do you see a man, mon cher?”
“Right there, Grand-mère.” He pointed to the floor where Preston had been. “He doesn’t look happy.”
“Go right to bed. He will be gone in the morning, and all will be well.”
Alastair roused with a shout. His heart ached as if he were having a heart attack. Clutching his chest, he rocked back and forth, trying desperately to catch his breath.
“Alastair? What is it?” Aurora cried as she struggled to escape sleep.
“I… can’t…” He sucked in a breath and tried again. “I—something is wrong, Rorie. My chest.”
“Warlocks don’t have heart attacks!”
“It’s… possible… I’m the… exception.”
As suddenly as it started, the pain was gone. He gulped in air and hung his arms over his bent knees, head lowered, as he tried to calm his racing heart.
Aurora rubbed his lower back in small circles.
“That’s uncomfortable on my scars,” he said gruffly.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“Your attempt at support is appreciated.”
Jumping up, he donned a robe and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Aurora scrambled out of bed and reached for her wrap.
“I need to know what caused that attack.”
“You’re worried Delphine’s prediction came sooner than expected?”
“Yes.”
“What can I do?”
“Come with me to the study, if you wish, but I need to scry to check up on the family.”
“Do you have a second scrying mirror? I can search one while you search the other.”
“You can make a phone call to Preston to make sure he’s okay while I check on Nash.”
She ran back into the room and grabbed her phone from her purse. With the press of two buttons, she called Preston.
She was sent straight to voicemail, so she tried again. “He’s not answering.”
“Call GiGi.”
She did as he requested.
“Hello?”
“GiGi, have you heard from your brother tonight?”
“Alastair? I thought he was with you?”
“No, Preston. Alastair seemed to have some sort of attack tonight. Like a—” The line went dead in her hand, and she stared at the phone in consternation. “We were disconnected.”
“More than likely, she hung up. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and teleported to the study. A quick scan of his mirror showed Nash reading in his office.
“My son seems to be okay, but I can’t find my brother.”
Within minutes, GiGi had teleported to his home. She was as haggard as Alastair had ever seen her.
“Preston’s not at the Thorne estate,” she said. “I woke Winnie, but she said he never came home for dinner. He sent her a text stating that he was looking into a piece for his antique shop.”
Alastair’s suspicion that Preston was in trouble grew exponentially. “Did he give her the name of the person who owned the piece he wanted?”
“No.”
The terror in his sister’s voice urged him to hug her tightly. “We’ll find him. Stay with Aurora and lock yourself in this study. Let no one in until I return. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He kissed Aurora’s forehead. “Stay with GiGi no matter what.”
“I will. But where are you going?”
“To wake Coop. If my suspicions are correct, we are going to need to find my brother the old-fashioned human way.”
“Black magic used to block your ability to scry?” Aurora asked.
He gave a sharp nod. “Please, stay put.”
His cells scarcely had time to warm before he was standing outside Summer and Coop’s residence. He banged on the door, waking all within.
Coop opened the door, hair tossed and confusion lighting his gray-blue eyes. “Alastair?”
Alastair shoved him aside and walked into the foyer. It must have been his police training, but Coop made a check of the porch and shut the door.
“My brother is missing. What do we need to do to find him the non-magical way?”
“How long has he been missing?”
“A few hours.”
“That’s not enough time to determine—”
“He’s missing!” The force of his anger swept the room and charged the air. Coop wrapped his arms around his bare chest and shivered.
“Okay. Okay. Just calm down a second. If we are doing this through proper channels, I need some information, all right?”
“I don’t have time for this, Cooper. My brother is missing, and I feel something is wrong. Here.” He pressed a fist to his heart.
When a hand touched
his arm, he spun around, ready to strike. Summer stared up at him in surprise and more than a little fear.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was harsh and his throat scratchy with his own terror. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Father. Tell us what you know.”
“Not much. I was asleep and woke to pain in my chest. I feel a chill I can’t shake.”
“How do you know it’s Preston and not a fucking heart attack?” Coop asked as he reached for Alastair’s arm to check his pulse.
Alastair brushed him off and snapped, “Witches and warlocks don’t have heart attacks, boy.”
Coop looked at Summer, who nodded. “It’s true.” She turned worried eyes to him. “How do you know it’s my dad?”
It still hurt every time she called Preston her dad, but Alastair shoved aside the pain. That hurt was minor in comparison to the fact that his brother could be at the mercy of another right now.
“He’s the only one I can’t locate with the scrying mirror or by phone.”
“Okay. Call Uncle Ryker, and tell him to meet us at your place. I’ll have everyone else meet us, too. Coop can do whatever sheriffy thing he needs to do to have his officers on the lookout.”
“Sheriffy thing?” Coop shook his head. “Okay, I’ll teleport to Mom and Dad’s. I’ll wake Keaton and tell him what is going on. You call Spring.” He turned to Alastair. “I suppose we should wait to hear anything before we bother Winnie and Autumn in their condition?”
“Are you crazy?” Summer practically yelled. “That’s their dad, and the more magic we can use to find him, the better.”
“Okay. Then, I’ll have Keaton and Autumn join everyone at Alastair’s before I head to the station.”
When her fiancé was gone, she turned to Alastair. “We’re going to find him.”
He wished he had her surety, but he didn’t. However, he couldn’t find it within himself to argue.
“Thank you, child. Call Winnie and her young man. I’ll pull Quentin into the search.”
23
Two days later, Alastair received a call from Coop. Preston’s body had been discovered by hikers. Because the local crime scene unit was trying to find clues, Coop had suggested the Thornes stay far away until the investigation was completed.
For the second time in forty-eight hours, the family convened in Alastair’s living room.
“Who would do such a thing?” Winnie sobbed out what they’d all been silently wondering since the call came in that Preston had been the victim of a shooting.
A wave of anger rocked the room, and everyone turned in Alastair’s direction, fearful of his rage.
“I need air,” he ground out. “I’ll be in the clearing behind my estate.”
“I don’t think you should go alone,” Quentin cautioned. He lowered his voice for Alastair’s ears alone. “Someone could be planning to pick you all off one by one, Mr. Thorne. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go out without a guard. Not in the distracted state you’re in.”
He studied Holly’s husband for a moment, trying to decide whether to tell the young buck to go to hell, or whether to accept his words for the caring and concern they contained. “Fine, come with me. But don’t say a word.”
Quentin nodded his dark head, his brown eyes solemn.
As they walked along the path toward the woods, it occurred to Alastair that perhaps his son-in-law might be of more use to him than he originally believed. “Tell me something. Hypothetically, if I asked you to use your ability to alter time, could you save my brother?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I would’ve had to have been present as the incident happened. The times I saved Holly, my future self already had the details, and my current self was at the scene prior to her death. I was able to subvert her death by being in two places at one time.” He sighed his frustration. “Even if we had an exact time of Preston’s… even then, I could do nothing if I wasn’t there. I’m sorry. I wish it were different.”
“Thank you, son.” Alastair swallowed down his grief. No resurrection for Preston was on the horizon. His body had been gone too long. He could only hope his brother was at peace with their mother and father now.
“Mr. Thorne—”
“I think it’s okay for you to call me Alastair now. We’ve been through too much together.”
“Alastair, if I could change the past, I would. For all you’ve done for me and Holly. Please know that.”
“I do, son.” He blinked back the burning liquid pooling behind his lids. “I do.” Clearing his throat, he gestured to the clearing. “If you’ll excuse me…”
“Of course. I’ll keep an eye out.”
“The grounds are warded for an early warning system should an intruder be about, wishing to cause harm. You can go be with Holly.”
“No, sir. I’ll stay here with you.”
Their eyes connected in understanding, and Alastair patted Quentin’s shoulder. “I’ll be over here. I have a goddess to summon.”
“I’ll patrol the grounds and leave you to it.”
In the end, Alastair didn’t need to summon Isis. She arrived before he could open his mouth to call to her. They did away with the formalities and spoke to each other as equals.
“My brother, he’s with you?”
“He is.”
“Can I trade to bring him back?”
“It’s his time, Beloved One.”
“You never wanted me as the sacrifice, did you?”
Sympathy warmed her eyes. “It was always to be Preston.”
He swiped angrily at the tears he was no longer able to contain. “Why couldn’t you have prepared me, him… us?”
“That’s not the way it is done, my child. You know that.”
He held up his amulet, the one she’d blessed him with more than thirty years before that enabled him to walk through the Otherworld unaffected. “May I see him? Talk to him, one last time?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“Please?” He hated to beg, but the thought of never talking to his little brother again was tearing him up. “Please?” He dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “Whatever you need of me, I will give.”
He felt the warmth of her essence before she placed her palm on the crown of his head.
“I’m sorry.”
Sobs wracked his body as he grieved for Preston on the ground by Isis’s feet. Her arms encircled him, and he experienced a lessening of his pain.
“He is well, my child. This I promise you. He has a destiny to fulfill from the Otherworld.”
He hugged her in return, and she permitted this small familiarity that should never have been allowed between a mortal and a goddess. He appreciated the comfort only she could provide. In the back of his mind, he recognized his co-dependency on her. When things became too overwhelming, he turned to her for answers. Time and again, she favored him by answering those questions.
“The person or people who did this, do I know them?”
“You do.”
“I want revenge.”
“I imagine you will get it.”
“Can you tell me who?”
“I cannot. It would alter Fate’s design.”
He’d expected as much. Hell, if he were honest with himself, he’d have known she could never give him that type of information. In the past, he’d asked and she’d refused, but this was his brother, and he’d hoped she’d make an exception.
“Thank you for confirming he’s…safe with you.”
“My pleasure. In final warning, not all who you trust are worthy of that trust. Be careful, my child.”
“Drake?”
“I believe he’s what you would call ‘an arrogant puppy,’ but he is not the one you seek. That is all I can say.” She smoothed back the hair that had fallen over his brow and ran a thumb under each eye to wipe the moisture away. “All will be well, and you shall see your brother again. Never doubt it.”
She kissed his brow
and disappeared in a swirl of light.
Isis may not have told him who had killed Preston, but she helped him establish who didn’t.
“I’ll find whoever is responsible, Pres. Never you doubt it, little brother.” He took a deep, cleansing breath. “When I do, I will rip their spine from their body and crush it beneath the heel of my shoe.”
In his mind, he could hear the sound of his brother’s laughter. Preston would call him bloodthirsty, but oddly enough, had the situation been reversed, his brother would have done the same, if not worse. In this, they were the same. It was well past time their enemies learned to fear the Thornes again.
Alastair rose with a purpose and hate in his heart.
24
Most would think Alastair was avoiding his family, and they would be correct, but not for the reasons they might assume. He had amped up his empathic ability, and it made him raw and edgy around so much grief. He needed to escape every chance he could. His own pain compounded with that of his sister and Preston’s children was driving him to drink, and he needed to be clear-headed for the retribution he had planned.
He growled his frustration when a knock sounded on his study door. “What is it?” he barked.
Aurora peeked her head through the opening. Her solemn expression made him want to weep, but he held onto his control with an iron fist.
“You need to eat.”
“I’ll eat when I’m hungry.” He took a sip of his Scotch and went back to staring moodily into the flames of the fireplace.
She ignored his surliness and entered the room, not stopping until she stood in front of him, hands fisted on her hips. “Alastair, it’s been a week, and from what I can tell, you are existing on alcohol alone. Come.” She held out a hand.
“Go away, Rorie.”
In a startling move, she snatched the drink from his hand and flung it away. The heavy crystal landed with a dull thud on the red Tabriz area rug. “No. You’ll bloody well listen to me, or I swear by the Goddess, I will zap your damned ass into next week.”
