“Join the club. Weres got nothing on us when it comes to the tang of dark magic. When I give the word, send me everything you’ve got. Keep your grip tight on me and Lane, just in case.”
His stony expression said it all. “Like iron. I want to see the bastard’s face when we fry his Fae ass.”
Caitlan’s head yanked back and her body stiffened. She drew breath through her teeth, every muscle straining against an invisible force.
“Cait!”
Leith broke through her redirect, and a soft, cold laugh feathered through her mind. Painfully beautiful and unrelentingly erotic, he whispered in a language she didn’t know, but somehow understood. Urgent and yearning, the murmurs buffeted her mind and teased her body, testing her reserve with hungry desire.
Supple and wet, the way you used to be. The way you wish to be. Want is swelling inside you, almost too much to bear. I feel it. You want my caress. My touch. You crave it. So easy to give in…to pleasure…to release. You know you have no choice.
Senses she thought long dead electrified her body, making her knees go weak. Invisible fingers stroked her nether flesh and the erotic punch left her breathless. She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut against the enticing sensations.
“He took Eve’s power. She succumbed to him. Bastard seized her power when she…climaxed.” Her words were clipped and tense. “Helpless and bound. I smell it through the mist. He’s too strong.”
Gareth gave her a vicious shake, bringing her back. “He’s manipulating your senses, Caitlan. We’re running out of time. We need to channel our combined power through to Lane. She knows what to do. She reversed Leith’s magic earlier tonight at the Red Veil.”
From the dark glass, black tendrils spread higher, climbing toward Lane’s throat and down to her sex.
Panic touched the young witch’s eyes, begging for help. This was it. Gareth steeled himself, and then lifted his face and arms toward the ceiling, keeping their hands locked in his grip.
“Forgive me,” he whispered.
The air hung heavy and still, like the calm before a storm. Soft, yellow light emanated from Gareth’s skin, expanding until it encircled the three of them completely. It shimmered, warm and encompassing before spreading across the library.
Mad gusts tore at the room from nowhere, sending papers and books flying. The floorboards shook and glass panes splintered in the windows. The soft, buttery light surrounding them changed to an orange-gold, and Gareth’s energy prickled across their flesh.
Power prickled with a thousand stings, narrowing tighter and tighter until it covered their bodies like a second skin.
“Caitlan! With me! Give it all to Lane! Now!”
Without hesitation, she lowered their linked hands, directing every ounce of power through to the younger witch.
Lane cried out at the unexpected flood, her flesh glowing bright and hot.
“Hold tight, love! We’re fighting Fae fire with Fae fire. Phoenix style!”
Gareth’s voice muffled in her ears. She knew he was there, but she could no longer feel his hands, or Caitlan’s for that matter. She floated, her sight, and every other sense, blurred as she tried to focus on the dark glass.
Eve’s image swirled in the murky depths for a moment, but then went black. Breathing hard, she tried to command the scrying glass, gathering the collective power swirling in her body.
“Show me what I seek!”
She had no sight, no voice, so the visions took her mind instead.
The mists cleared, only to show her friend was no longer alone in the stone room. A woman was with her, but who?
Ready power suffused her skin, but Lane froze as the woman turned. Her own face glanced back from the vision, and Lane nearly choked.
“Lane! Can you hear us?”
“Burn the bastard already!”
Gareth and Cait’s voices barely penetrated as the image swirled and changed, but when she watched herself draw a short sword from its sheath beside the pallet bed, a silent scream ripped from her lips.
“Don’t! Eve!” Shock and betrayal flashed in her friend’s eyes as Lane watched the blade pierce Eve’s chest. “It’s not me! It’s not true!”
Red anger bubbled hot, vibrating the amassed power waiting in Lane’s chest. “No! You BASTARD!”
Collective energy exploded outward, its white heat incinerating the black tendrils holding her hostage. Lane collapsed in Gareth’s arms as a loud hiss echoed in the chaos.
He held her tight, lowering her to the floor. “You had me worried there for a moment, kiddo. What the hell happened?”
Lane gripped his arms, her fingers buried in his biceps. “Leith had other plans for me.”
Caitlan knelt beside her on the strewn papers. “We tried reaching you, honey, but your face…your eyes…they were blank and sightless. Where were you? What happened?”
She turned to meet Caitlan’s worried eyes. “I was there. In the room with Eve. I killed her. Or I watched me do it.”
“That’s impossible. Even if you astral projected, you wouldn’t be able to do anything but observe. You’re not corporeal in that form.”
Lane looked away. “I saw what I saw, Caitlan. I killed Eve.”
“Eve isn’t dead, Laney,” Caitlan replied quickly. “I’d have felt it. When Ravens die, we all feel the weight of their soul leaving. It’s part of our shared lineage.”
Lane met her gaze but didn’t comment.
“Cait’s right. Leith is a dark Sidhe. He’s taken power from witches for longer than anyone knows for sure. Don’t you think he could manipulate the power he took from Eve to make you think you killed her? Maybe in a moment of weakness and fear, Eve—”
“What?” Lane blurted. “Blamed me for getting her into this mess in the first place? That Leith used her blame and my guilt to make me think I killed her?”
Caitlan nodded sadly. “Yes.”
“Even if my hand didn’t plunge that blade into Eve’s heart, she’s dead because of me.” Lane grunted a derisive snort.
“She’s not dead, Lane,” Caitlan tried again.
Gareth stood, reaching to help both women off the floor. “C’mon. We have work to do. You did not kill Eve, Laney. She gave us a hint.”
“Hint?” Lane took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.
He nodded, helping Caitlan next. “She turned Leith’s own deception back on him, using it to give us a hint on how to defeat him. Permanently.”
“I think I’m starting to see what Gareth means,” Caitlan surveyed the mess in the library. “Though, the answer is going to be much harder to find in this clutter.”
Bending to scoop up the pages on the floor around them, he straightened with a quick wink. “Not necessarily. Especially since we know what we’re looking for now.”
“Will one of you please explain to me what you’re babbling about?”
He put the papers on the table next to the splintered scrying mirror, the spidery cracks distorting the normal reflection. “A sword.”
Chapter Eleven
Caitlan crouched beside Lane, sorting through the scattered books on the floor by the study table. “If memory serves, there are only a handful of books that speak to the kind of weaponry resembling what you saw in your premonition.”
“Well.” Lane exhaled, tossing a book of random spells to the side. “They’ve got to be somewhere. The library’s intact, just jumbled beyond recognition.”
Caitlan snorted. “Tell that to Caro. Her categorization system is decimated.”
“The sword in my premonition shined like polished silver. Maybe that’s a clue and we should be looking for a book on metallic magical properties. The hilt has got to be a clue as well. It was even more ornate than your athame, Gareth.”
He sorted books from the fallout on the opposite end of the room. “Silver is too soft a metal to be an effective weapon. The sword from your premonition was most likely carbon steel, which is iron ore based. I’d bet a testicle that’s why you handled
the sword in the vision and not Leith.”
Caitlan nodded. “I agree with Gareth. We’re looking for writings on a forged sword imbued with magical energy. Something a full-blooded Sidhe wouldn’t dare risk touching.” She paused, letting her gaze fall to Lane. “Try calling to it, honey. You’re the one who saw the sword used. Visualize it. See it in the book that will tell us what we need.”
“Anything’s better than digging through this wreck.” Resting her hands palm up on her knees, Lane rolled her shoulders and then closed her eyes. She muttered a soft spell awakening the part of her that knows, sees, and remembers everything.
“Silver moon, goddess wise, show me now within my right. Grant your blessing, three times three, show me now what I need. Crown chakra, knowledge bright, open now my third-eye’s sight.”
Power tingled her scalp, radiating through to her fingertips. They prickled as if already holding the book. She breathed slowly, in and out. Flashes formed, images flickering behind her lids as though the universe sorted the possibilities, discarding one after the other.
Caitlan stood, motioning to Gareth as a weak, winking glow peeked from beneath the bottom of one of stacks.
“Lane—” She kept her voice steady. “Whatever image is in your mind now, hold it. Expand it if you can, but don’t let it go.”
Caitlan moved toward the pile of books, bending to slowly remove each one until she stared at the glowing volume. Gold light shimmered from its spine and across its tatty cover. “Kids, I think we have lift off.”
Lane exhaled, dropping her chin to her chest, murmuring a prayer of thanks to the universe. The image in her mind faded along with the tingle of power spiraling from her crown chakra, and she opened her eyes.
Unassuming in its design, the book had definitely seen better days. Its cloth cover was frayed along the edges, and time had rendered its title indiscernible.
Caitlan straightened with the book in her hand, turning to place it on the study table. She opened the cover with care, skimming the worn flyleaf before turning the first few delicate pages.
Lane and Gareth rounded the table to flank her on either side. “I wouldn’t have given this a second glance,” Lane murmured. “It looks too dogeared to be anything of significance.” She reached to touch the delicate pages, but Caitlan smacked her hand.
“Gloves.” The supreme nodded toward the desk. “In the top right drawer. The pages could be spelled or worse.”
“You touched it,” Lane grumbled, retrieving the gloves. “If the book was boobytrapped, you’d have been zapped the moment you skimmed a hand over the cover.”
Caitlan rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a baby. Privilege comes with age and experience.”
Lane handed gloves all around and then stood by as Caitlan turned threadbare page after page. Illustrations rivalling the hand-copied books of old winked from nearly translucent pages.
“This should be in a museum, not moldering at the bottom of a pile of reference books in a basement library,” Lane replied, running a gloved finger over the vivid gold and red ornamental lettering.
The illustrations depicted weapons of all shapes and sizes. From easy to conceal dirks to heavy claymores and thrusting longswords, along with techniques for block, swing, parry and thrust.
“So, the book the universe wanted us to find the medieval version of Swordplay for Dummies.” Lane shifted the book for a closer look. “Okay, fates. What now?”
She skimmed the descriptions before gently turning the next few pages. “This is nothing but general descriptions of when and how to use the weapons. Plus, none of them fit what I saw exactly. The sword I wielded had Fae sigils in gold on the hilt, and other sigils I couldn’t recognize engraved on the flat of the blade. On top of everything, we still don’t know why Leith wants me in particular. I was hoping Caro’s research could shed some light on that, but I guess not.”
Caitlan walked toward the only shelf in the library with books still intact. They were so because they were encased in leather and glass. “Lane, how much do you remember from when you first came to the motherhouse?” Taking a key from a chain hidden in her cleavage, she unlocked the small bolt at the bottom of the case.
“Not much. I remember you and Grania. Gareth came later, but other than that—” Lane shrugged.
Caitlan lifted the glass lid to the case. “I’m not surprised.”
“Does this have something to do with Leith and why he’s wreaking havoc?” Gareth asked, his interest piqued as well.
“In a nutshell, yes.” Caitlan took the books from inside the case, one by one, placing them on a chair. “You were brought here by your mother. Her name was Aislinn.”
Lane’s mouth opened but she snapped it closed at the look on Caitlan’s face.
“She was a Raven, like you. Beautiful. Ethereal. Her one flaw was not knowing her own worth. She needed physical validation, and eventually it went way beyond sexual satisfaction. She fell prey to a Sidhe, and succumbing, eventually became enslaved.” Her eyes were sad. “You know the type. Death by sex. Except your mother didn’t die. She became pregnant.
“It was the life stirring within her, your life, that brought her to her senses. Aislinn escaped your father, never telling him of your existence. She did her best to raise you alone, but as you got older, she knew it was only a matter of time before he sensed you. Before puberty hit, and you came into your power.
“Aislinn showed up on our doorstep with you in tow. You weren’t more than six or seven years old. Together we bound your Sidhe side, only allowing your witchy powers to manifest. It’s the same with Gareth.”
At Lane’s sharp intake, Caitlan whirled on her heel.
“Relax, Gareth is not your brother. But he is a halfling, same as you. He has enough Sidhe blood to be claimed. Just as you do. Your mother didn’t want that.”
“So, she made the choice for me? From what you describe, I’m her polar opposite. I don’t need validation from anyone but myself, let alone physical validation from sex. Hell, I frequented the backrooms at the Red Veil to get my freak on because it’s what I wanted, not because I needed to feel good about myself.”
Caitlan stood beside the empty case. “Not because you were trying to escape something?” Her eyes slipped to Gareth. “Memories of what might have been, perhaps?”
Lane didn’t answer, and Caitlan took that as a cue to continue. “Your mother had good reason to choose for you. Gareth is male. And a rare Phoenix. It’s why the Seelie queen accepted him into her court. You’re female, so you’d have no choice but to be a concubine or a despised servant, especially since your bloodline hailed from the Unseelie court. Aislinn wanted you to have a choice in life, Lane. As a Raven, you could one day be a supreme, or more.”
Gareth slipped an arm around Lane’s slumped shoulders, supporting her under the weight of Caitlan’s revelations. “Are you telling us Leith is Lane’s father?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Earlier, I told you we needed a blood rite. I let you believe it was to protect the motherhouse and our coven, and I’m sorry for the lie of omission. The blood rite we need is to unbind Lane’s Sidhe powers so the two of you can defeat Leith together. The blood rite will coalesce your powers and unlock your Fae side, but the only way to ensure you don’t fall prey to what your father wants, you’ll need to be claimed.”
At that, Lane’s shoulders stiffened, and her eyes jerked to Caitlan. “Claimed? By whom? How?”
“By another Sidhe.”
Gareth spared a tentative glance for Lane. “Full-blooded?
“No.” Caitlan met Gareth’s eyes. “By you. You’ve been claimed by the Seelie Court, so by default you may claim a mate. Considering you were sent by your queen, I doubt she’ll have much to say against the proposal. If we do the ritual correctly, Leith won’t be able to resist trying to disrupt things.”
Gareth looked at Lane. “You look like you’re going to vomit. Bad idea?”
“No, it’s what I’ve always wanted, it’s just—” she lick
ed her lips. “Not like this. Like we have no other choice.”
He squeezed her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Shotgun wedding, Fae style. Besides, you’re the one who said you wanted to be bait.”
Her head jerked around, and she met his eyes. “The vampires. We’ve completely left them out of the equation. They’re going to want their pound of flesh, not to mention the Weres. Leith manipulated the three vamps he used to get to me, putting a very important truce at stake. Pardon the pun.”
“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, then I’m not sure I’m okay with it, Lane. The motherhouse has never hosted vampire guests, or shifters for that matter. I’m not so sure they’d be happy with the idea either.”
“Then we’ll have to rethink the plan of attack,” Gareth interjected. “We still have to find the right weapon in this book and see what it has to say. In the meantime, we should contact the vampire council and the Alpha of the Brethren.”
“Gareth’s right. You’ve had enough for one twenty-four-hour period. I’ll make the necessary calls. Leith is a consummate chess player, and this is a game for him. The board is ours for now. He can’t make a move until we do, so get some rest. We can put together what we need for the ritual come morning. The house and grounds are completely warded, so sleep well.” Caitlan winked. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.”
Gareth turned with Lane for the door, but Caitlan stopped them. “Just one more thing.”
She waved a hand inside the empty glass and leather case, muttering a spell under her breath. A letter appeared, and she took it and the sword book and handed them both to Lane.
“It’s from Aislinn. She left it for you to open when the time came for your powers to be woke. Read it and then look through the book. I have a feeling you’ll find the all the answers you need.”
Chapter Twelve
“Why don’t you take a hot shower? It’ll help.” Gareth’s fingers wrapped around her shoulders with a light squeeze. “Your head has to be spinning with what Caitlan revealed.”
Lane inhaled, letting her head drop so his fingers kneaded more of the tension from her neck. “That’s putting it lightly. Finding out my biological father is a Sidhe psychopath doesn’t do much for my self-esteem. Especially since I’ve been the black sheep around here forever.”
Bewitch Me: The Red Veil Diaries: A Witchy/Fae Romance Page 9
