by T. M. Cromer
He rose and glared down into her furious face. “I swear, if you don’t—”
She cut him off when she grabbed the hair on either side of his head and jerked his face down to hers. Her mouth latched onto his, and her tongue invaded his mouth. Of their own accord, his arms encircled her, and he hauled her more fully against him.
It took him a minute to register the clearing of a throat from behind him.
“Pardon me, sir. Ryker Gillespie is here to see you,” Alfred told him.
Never breaking eye contact with Aurora, he said, “Tell Ryker to come back in half an hour.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“And Alfred? Close the door on your way out. We’re not to be disturbed.”
“Of course.”
The door shut with a soft click. The lock engaging was only marginally louder.
“Don’t ever fire him,” she said with a soft smile. “He’s worth all the money in the world.”
“He believes he is anyway. You should see what I pay the man.”
She sobered and stroked the hair on his nape. “I’m sorry about your brother.”
He looked away and swallowed hard. “Don’t do this to me, Rorie. I can’t process all of this right now. I have to be strong to find his killer.”
“You can grieve.”
“After.”
“The children don’t know how to react. They want to continue with their service for him today, but as head of the family, they also want you to be there. When you shut yourself off like this…” She shrugged lightly and grimaced. “Please come back to us.”
“It’s too much—their pain on top of mine. I can’t handle it right now.”
“Maybe we should see if we can find some type of spell to numb your ability for a short while.”
“No, I need to keep this in place. Isn’t it curious that Isis said I trusted the person responsible? You’d think I would have felt the malice.”
“It’s the black magic. It has to be. It was used to cloak Trina’s murder, the evil intent directed toward you, and Preston’s murder.”
“The thing is, Pres would have been more cautious than me. He had to know this person and trust them to an extent as well.” When her eyes dropped to the floor, a sense of unease assailed him, but he had to ask. “Rorie?”
“I feel you’re right about Preston knowing this person.”
“Please tell me it’s not you. That it’s never been you.”
She gasped and shoved away from his chest. “How could you even entertain such an idea?” She punched him hard on his right shoulder. “You bloody bastard!”
He closed his eyes and smiled slightly at her outrage, absorbing the feeling. No, she hadn’t betrayed him, not that he thought she did, but he’d needed to see if his empathic connection was working properly.
“You knew I didn’t. You were trying out a new spell,” she concluded with a shake of her head.
“I’ve amplified my ability. If someone is lying to me, I’ll know.”
“That was a dirty trick to play on me,” she grumbled as she went into his open arms. Drawing back slightly, she looked up into his face. “How long will it last? This spell?”
“Until I turn it off. I’ve been in here to avoid emotional overload.”
“Have you been eating?”
“Now and again, to keep up strength. Don’t nag, my love.”
“The funeral starts at two. I’ll send in Ryker.”
He sat and pulled her into his lap. “He can wait. Stay with me a few minutes more.”
They remained snuggled together, watching the flames. The sound of the fire’s crackle and pop soothed them both. Peace could be found in the quiet.
Alastair must’ve dozed off for a short time because he woke to Aurora stroking his cheek.
“Ryker’s here.”
She left them alone to speak.
Once the door closed, Alastair got right to the point. “What have you discovered?”
“Nothing more than we already knew. Drake said that Beecham is more aggressive in his desire that you should be brought in.”
“So Beecham is behind this, to a large degree. He’s nervous.”
“That’s my belief, too.”
“After the service, I’d like you, Nash, and Quentin to take a short trip with me.”
“Consider it done.”
Alastair was surprised by the turnout for Preston’s funeral. He shouldn’t have been. His brother was well liked and respected. But based on his own limited interactions with the outside world, it was startling to see the sheer quantity of people at the memorial service. Their caution in approaching him was amusing. Most gave him a wide berth. The non-magical mourners were off-put by his coldness. The magical community was terrified of him in this state. A few of the braver souls offered their condolences. They quickly moved along at his silent nod.
Across the gathering, his eyes connected with Delphine’s. She was dressed all in black with a lace veil draped over her head and shoulders. Her eyes were a muddy brown in her grief. Yet something was off with this picture. Glancing around, he noted her daughter was absent. Odd that.
He casually scanned the room and avoided looking at her again. After a moment, he leaned to his right where his sister stood by his side. “What do you know about the absence of Delphine’s daughter?”
“I hadn’t noticed, but it does seem odd.”
“I think so, too.”
“Speaking of Delphine, did Preston ever bring back the new herbs for Aurora?”
Alastair stood straighter and fought off the choking blackness threatening his vision. “What?”
“When we were having tea, he spilled milk on Aurora’s herbs. He promised to get her a new batch from Delphine.” A small frown tugged her brow. “I told you that.”
“No, you didn’t. You said he intended to pick up tea for Rorie. I assumed you all engaged in some inane discussion of teas and he planned to gift her with a new blend.”
“Rorie didn’t mention it?”
“No. I’m sure she forgot with all that’s happened.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” she agreed.
Alastair kept a tight rein on the fury attached to his suspicions. He couldn’t show his hand until he could prove what he suspected.
“Are you okay, brother?”
“No, but I will be. Where’s Ryker?”
She nodded to the back of the hall. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He glanced down and met her stormy eyes. “It’s a suspicion only. I’ll fill you in as soon as I know the truth. Don’t be rash, but don’t allow anyone in our immediate family to be alone with our cousin. Is that understood?”
“Delphine did this?”
“Maybe not her personally, but I suspect she knows who did. I’ll find the facts.”
She gripped his wrist, and it felt like a thousand pounds of pressure. “I want to be there when you confront who did this.”
“GiGi—”
She jerked his arm, interrupting his objection. “He was my brother, too.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you for not dismissing that fact.”
“Never. We’ll do this together, but try to stay calm until I know for certain.”
“Of course.”
He pulled her into a tight hug. “I mean it, little sister. Don’t be foolish or impulsive. I can’t lose you, too.”
“Same goes for you, big brother,” she whispered.
“When have you known me to be impulsive? I always have a plan.”
Her smile was brittle. “Yes, you do, and I look forward to finding out what that plan is.”
He kissed her brow and went to speak to Ryker.
“He knows.”
“Why do you say that?” Henri asked from where he stood beside his mistress in the corner, overlooking the mourners.
“A feeling. A look. Who can say, but he knows I was involved,” Delphine said quietly. “We have to take him out before he strikes at
us first.”
“He is grief-stricken, Delphine. His mind is clouded with thoughts of his brother. I believe you are reading too much into things.”
“You don’t know Alastair Thorne like I know him. He is always clear-headed. Always.” She couldn’t keep the fear from her voice. If she was on her cousin’s radar as a threat, she would be eliminated. Terror for Armand and Léonie smothered her and made normal breathing difficult. Would Alastair show mercy to her progeny? Armand was only a small child. Though older, Léonie, if she could ever be found, was innocent of any wrongdoings as well. But would Alastair see it that way? Would he look into the wide, golden eyes of her daughter and grandson and know they had nothing to do with the death of his brother?
“If he should threaten you, he will go the same way as his brother,” Henri assured her.
“We cannot wait for him to threaten us, you fool. If it gets to that point, he will just as soon kill us as look at us,” she snapped.
While her words were indistinguishable to those standing more than a few feet away, her tone was unmistakable, and heads turned in their direction. She lifted a tissue to dab at the non-existent tears, and the gawkers turned away, uncomfortable with her emotional display.
Only Alastair didn’t look away. He maintained eye-contact from across the room. She didn’t recognize the man he spoke with, but she had no doubt they were close. He didn’t let down his guard with many, but their body language spoke of long-term friendship. Her time spent as a fortune-teller had taught her to read these things.
“I think we should pay our respects to Preston’s family and get out of here,” she said. “I want to be back home where we have my ancestors’ magic on our side.”
“But of course,” Henri replied.
He guided her through the crowd toward Preston’s children and sister. They stood in a line, receiving condolences from visiting friends and family. As she waited her turn to speak to GiGi, Delphine watched the interactions. Preston’s daughters were beautiful, but their significant others were even more so. The petite blonde beside her darker sisters looked more like Alastair than Preston. Delphine was left to wonder if she was a genetic throwback to the Thorne line as a whole, or whether Alastair and Aurora hadn’t had an affair during her marriage to Preston.
The question was answered for her when Alastair took his place beside the girl and bent down to place a kiss on the top of her head. The love and courtesy he showered on her spoke volumes. How had he kept her a secret for these twenty-plus years?
Delphine stored the knowledge for future use. Summer Thorne might be an easier target than Alastair’s son, Nash, should she need leverage against him.
25
Nash Thorne shoved away from the brick wall outside the hall where the memorial service was being conducted for Preston. The suffocating grief from the collective had sent him fleeing the building for the open air. He’d just taken off his shoes to dig his toes in the grass and absorb the elemental magic essential to his existence when he overheard the conversation between the woman and man who had a hand in his uncle’s death. The window was open, and they’d been close enough that he heard every word.
Fuck!
While he wasn’t overly fond of his autocratic father most days, Alastair was the only parent Nash had left. The duplicitous Delphine and her man weren’t going to take that away.
Leaning over, he brushed the dirt and grass from the bottom of his feet. With a single snap, his socks and shoes were back and he was hustling toward the door. He paused in the entry and took stock of his surroundings. It didn’t take him but a second to locate Alastair in line with Summer. He scanned the crowd to see who might be observing their interaction.
A petite woman in black watched Alastair with an intensity that was odd for this gathering. Either she was near-sighted or she was Delphine. As if she sensed his regard, she swung her head in his direction. He nodded as if in greeting and shifted his gaze to the man next to her. He continued to look at all the guests in this manner as if he were sizing up the crowd in general.
Shoving his hands in his pants pockets as a show of shyness, he hunched his shoulders and sidled into the room, careful to keep the other guests between him and Delphine as he slowly made his way to the front of the room.
“Hi.” A sultry, long-legged blonde in a tight black dress joined him and chatted him up. “Are you here by yourself?”
He nodded while heaving an internal sigh. Why people thought funerals were a good place to find a date was beyond his comprehension. Still, she’d be a good cover.
He leaned into her space as if he knew her and actively engaged her in conversation. He could feel eyes on him but hoped he’d escaped Delphine’s notice. He sent a quick, casual glance toward the front of the room. Alastair had shifted so his back was to the couple watching him, and cut Nash a side glance. With a minuscule half-shake of his head, he looked away. He hoped Alastair took his cue.
Soon enough, his father made his way through the throng of people, stopping occasionally for a handshake and to accept their condolences. Without appearing obvious, he made his way toward Nash just as Nash and the perky blonde—whose name he couldn’t seem to remember—made their way forward.
Alastair reached for the woman’s hand first and shook it. He spent a few minutes chatting her up, then turned to Nash. They shook hands like mere acquaintances. Alastair maintained the image of his cold, detached air. “Thank you for coming. I’m sure my brother would be happy to know you turned up to show your respects.”
He moved to the next person in line, and then the next, abandoning the group after about five more greetings. Nash made sure not to pay any attention to his father and, for a second time, swept the room with a casual gaze as if he were absorbing the scene as a whole. Delphine had stopped paying him any mind, but the man with her seemed to fixate on him. Nash dropped his shoulders forward and offered the guy a quick, self-depreciating smile. Soon enough, Delphine’s companion lost interest.
It was another minute before Nash could effectively sneak away. He went the opposite direction as Alastair and slipped out the back door.
“I thought you’d never arrive.”
He nearly came out of his skin when a voice spoke behind him. He spun around and saw no one. “The invisibility is a nice touch, Sperm Donor.”
Alastair made an impatient sound. “Lean back against the building like you’re bored to be here.”
Nash did as requested, one foot resting back on the brick. He pulled out his cell phone and pretended to scroll through messages.
“What did you need to tell me?”
“You’re damned scary with your insights, you know that?” Nash muttered with a furtive glance about. “I overheard a woman named Delphine talking to the man she’s with, or who I assume she’s with now. I didn’t actually see him so much as I heard him.”
“What did you hear?”
Nash paused, unsure how to tell his father. Did he come right out with it?
“Out with it, son. Rip off the Band-aid.”
“They are responsible for Uncle Preston’s death.”
Alastair sucked in a sharp breath, and a ripple of energy hit Nash from his left side. The impact didn’t hurt so much as startle. He wished he could see Alastair’s expression, if only to offer his sympathies. While he and his sisters hadn’t grown up together like his father and uncle, Nash would be heartbroken if anything happened to Summer or Holly.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to blurt it out like that.”
“What exactly did she say?”
Nash relayed word for word the conversation he’d heard. He still experienced a hot surge of anger whenever he thought about the injustice of what had happened to his uncle. He could only imagine what his father must be feeling at a time like this.
“Make your way back inside. I’ll follow shortly.”
“Alastair—”
“It’s okay, son. Really.”
Feeling the need to say some
thing more, he looked out over the horizon and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about Uncle Preston. I cared about him, too.”
He imagined he felt a large, warm hand covering his shoulder.
“Thank you.”
Nash left his father and returned to the memorial. The family procession would head to the Thorne cemetery soon, and he wanted to be available to his sister when that happened. She had Coop for support, but Nash would also be at her disposal, just in case.
* * *
As Alastair watched his son leave, he felt pride. The two of them had a rocky relationship at best, but Nash never failed to do what was right by the family. More than once, it had put his career with the Witches’ Council in jeopardy. But all the Thornes subscribed to the motto of family first. Well, all but one it seemed. From here on out, he’d question the loyalty of the other distant members.
“He’s a chip off the old block,” Ryker said from beside him, where he’d remained silent through the conversation with Nash.
“Yes, he is. But never let him know that. I don’t need the fallout.”
His friend chuckled.
They stood in quiet contemplation, each processing what Nash had said. Finally, Ryker spoke again. “What do you intend to do about Delphine?”
“If I tell you, you’ll try to talk me out of it.”
“No, I won’t. Preston was my friend as well as my brother-in-law. I loved him too, Al.”
“Good, because I intend to show her no mercy.”
“I’m sorry it’s come to this.”
“Me, too.” Alastair closed his eyes and rested his head back against the brick building. “It’s crazy. Even though we spent years not speaking, I always knew my brother was alive and well somewhere in the world. Now that he’s gone… God, Ryker, I miss him.”
“She’ll pay.”
“She damned well will.” Alastair sneezed with the force of his swear word. For a second, he mentally debated letting the locusts decimate the area around him, that’s how angry and destructive he felt. In the end, he fisted his hand and sent a wave of magic to stem the influx. “I’ve only ever hated two people in my life. It seems my list is growing.”
