by Renea Mason
“Cyril, put me down.”
“No. Sinclair, Stanton… I want you all at the rendezvous point by nine p.m. I’ll hunt down anyone who’s missing.”
Sinclair turned off the stove. “Got it.” He leaned forward, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and bolted out of the room.
“Cyril, what the hell is going on?”
“There’s no time now.”
I clutched the eggs in my fist and set the plate on the counter. “Can’t you let me down long enough to eat this?”
“No.”
“Fine.” I chewed between bounces as he marched us toward the garage. I tossed the last bite in my mouth with butter-slicked hands. I stared at my fingers, contemplating what to do about the greasy mess.
Cyril stopped and retrieved a strange looking harness from the wall. Instead of climbing into a car, he opened the garage door and marched us around the side of the building.
“I’m going to need you to put this on.” He tossed the harness on the ground and lowered me to my feet.
“But my hands are a mess.”
“Figure something out.” He unbuttoned his shirt.
I reached over, gathered the edge of his shirt, and wiped the butter from my fingertips.
His brow furrowed as he watched me clean each finger. A growl rumbled through his chest.
I picked up the harness which looked like something skydivers might use. “What is this?”
“Just put it on.”
“I’m not sure I know how.” Looping the apparatus over my arms, I latched it across my chest. But then I focused my attention on his nude torso and then to his hands unbuttoning his pants.
“Cyril, I can’t. Not again. I can barely walk from last night.”
“We’re not having sex.”
“What are we…” my words died as he mumbled the chant I knew so well.
His nude body distracted me from my curiosity. His hands reached toward the heavens. Magic crackled in the air around us.
He groaned, doubling over, and sprouted his beautiful, black wings. They expanded and flexed a few times before he pulled me against his skin. With lightning speed, he latched several buckles into place, securing me to him.
“Don’t let go of me. I won’t let go of you, but the harness is a safety measure. Hold on.”
I squealed, realizing what was about to happen. “Oh, hell no. No. I’m afraid of heights. Cyril!”
He bent his knees and propelled us into the air. The wind rushed past us as I peeked down at the ground drifting farther away. A moment later, my world faded to black.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Hideout
Startled by the intense sunlight, I darted up in bed, taking in the surrounding room. “Where am I?”
Cyril’s large arms encircled me. “Home.”
“And where exactly is that?” I attempted to peer out the window in search of landmarks, but all I could see was a brilliant blue sky filled with fluffy clouds.
“We’re in Scotland.”
“Scotland? You flew us to Scotland?”
He chuckled. “No, Light, I flew us to a remote location where we met up with everyone. We then chartered a private plane to Scotland.”
“How do I not remember any of that?”
He stroked my cheek with his thumb. “Since you passed out as soon as we were airborne, I didn’t think you’d be able to handle the flight. Stanton gave you a sedative, so you’d be…comfortable.”
“How long has it been since we left?”
“About thirty-two hours. Several of the men had errands to run, but we’re all getting together for dinner this evening to discuss what transpired. Why don’t you freshen up, get dressed, and join us? I’m sure you both are starving.”
My movement halted as my mind adjusted to what he said. Us both. There were two of us. The whole concept was hard to accept. My rumbling stomach and full bladder weren’t about to allow me to argue. Plus, I was curious why we made a mad dash to Scotland. So, I stretched, yawned, and agreed. “OK.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Don’t delay.”
* * *
I glanced around the table. They were all here, even Clarence. Overton rested his hand on my knee while we waited for Cyril to take his place at the head of the table. It was awkward since we so rarely did anything as a… what? Family? I guess that’s what we were and soon we’d have one more.
My musings were interrupted by Cyril entering the room with a jar filled with a familiar powder. He set it on the table and stood behind his chair. He was their leader. The respect and attention afforded him by the men could not be disputed.
He cleared his throat. “You’re all wondering why I asked you to come here under such urgent circumstances. Thank you for not delaying.”
My stomach growled, and all eyes fixed on me. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks.
“Light, I’ll make this quick. You both need nourishment. Dinner has been prepared, and it will be served soon.” He bent and kissed my head.
Overton smiled at me and squeezed my knee.
I lowered my eyes to the table.
Cyril picked up the jar. “This is the emergency. This should not be possible.”
Sinclair was the first to speak, “What is it?”
The content of the jar was easy to identify. Michael had burst into the same shimmery powder when I ended him.
Cyril spun the jar in his hands. “Warin. The only thing that should have been capable of killing him was me, but someone or something was powerful enough to end him permanently.”
Clarence asked, “Warin?”
Cyril sighed. “Warin was Myghal’s equal—Michael, as you may have known him. I believe Linden may have told you about Ruarc. How I dispatched him the night I saved her as an infant. Warin is one of the six men Aristia created after me. No one should be strong enough to destroy them. Even for me, it requires an enormous amount of magic or a special weapon created in another dimension.”
Clarence’s brow furrowed with impatience. “Are you saying that someone killed that dude, and no one should be able to?”
“That’s what I’m saying. I found this jar sitting on the stairs in Pittsburgh. It’s a message.”
I tried to quiet my gasp. “Cyril, Vidius. It has to be Vidius.”
“I agree. Our base was compromised. I needed us to be far away and to investigate why Stanton has been able to link Linden’s DNA to two women who once lived here in Scotland. We need answers and a plan. I have no idea what Warin’s destruction has done to this world, but we must make sure this doesn’t happen to any of the others. We must stop Vidius. Dominic, Thor, Rhys, and Sinclair, I need you to help hunt down Lucius and Geir. You must warn them at once. Do not split up. Retreat if anything seems suspicious. Get back as soon as possible. Lucius should still be in Romania where we last encountered him. Dominic, you can locate Geir. Stanton, Clarence, and Linden, you’re staying with me.” I had never seen Cyril so nervous. There was fear in his voice.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Awakening
Since arriving at the castle, I hadn’t been permitted to leave. Everything necessary for my well-being was delivered to me. Clarence and Overton had been my constant overseers. Cyril spent time with me each night after concluding his investigations. Overton slept with me wrapped in his arms each night, but boredom, coupled with my constant exhaustion and nausea, left me stir crazy and irritable.
Overton placed a bowl of oatmeal on the large dining table. The long, aged plank tabletop seat at least twenty people. All the empty spaces made me feel small in the huge formal dining hall. I pushed the sticky grains around the bowl with my spoon.
Overton stood and watched me while wiping his hands on a towel he had draped over his forearm. “Love, what’s wrong? Still sick?”
I didn’t look at him, instead focused on the mushy clumps. “Yes, and…”
He strode to my side, sand straddle the bench so he could face me. He brushed a strand of hair from my eyes. “The morning
sickness should ease soon. It usually disappears after the first trimester.”
“That can’t end soon enough.” I swallowed the sore taste of indigestion. “I guess if you were someone who wanted to get pregnant, this experience would be different. Had I known this was even possible, I would have done everything to prevent it. I’m just worried…” I pushed the sludgy oats into a pile on one side of the bowl.
“Linden, love, what is it?” His hand kneaded my shoulder, trying to ease my tension.
“How can I be a parent with all this?” I waved the spoon in the air, splattering tiny lumps of oatmeal all over the table top. “I don’t even know how to be human anymore, how the hell can I be someone’s mother? I feel terrible for this child. Not to mention, childbirth scares me more than Vidius. It would have been different if I had known there was a risk, but my brain never left room for this possibility. And then there’s you…” I shifted toward him, tears in my eyes.
He cupped my cheek, capturing the tear streaming down my face. “Love, I know my appreciation for how hard this is for you is probably light years away from the reality of it, but I do understand you’re struggling. I’ll do anything to make it better. Anything to comfort you. I know you sense my enthusiasm. Linden, you’re giving me something I never thought possible. Like you, my mind has had to make room for the idea, but it pains me that I gain joy and you gain insecurity and fear. You’re not in this alone.” He placed his hand on my stomach. “This is our child. Even though the circumstances around her conception weren’t ideal, she was conceived because of our bond, our love, and my unwavering devotion to you. Let me be everything you feel you can’t be and know she’ll want for nothing.”
“She?”
“Yes, love. We’re having a daughter.” He pressed his lips to mine. “I thought you knew. Didn’t Cyril tell you? Couldn’t you see?”
My tears fell like rain coating my cheeks. “No. No. No. I didn’t know. I figured there’d have to be an ultrasound or something.”
He stroked his thumb over my skin. “We can do that, and we should, to make sure she’s progressing as expected. But I thought you’d be able to see her when you looked at her soul.”
“There’s no difference for me. Plus, I’ve been so tired, Cyril has been handling all of those duties.” I wasn’t sure if I was angry he didn’t tell me, or if there was yet another thing about Cyril I didn’t know. “So, he must see souls differently than me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I would have told you a different way.”
The look of true regret on Overton’s face made the moment even more difficult to swallow. “I think I need some air.”
“All right, love. I’ll be in the study if you need me.”
I stood, walked through the dining hall and through the cavernous kitchen. I pulled open the heavy, wooden door. I hoped the crisp breeze, filled with ocean mist from the water slamming against the base of the cliff, would carry away my melancholy mood. Clouds gathered on the horizon, and even though the sun shone overhead, it wouldn’t for long. It was such a breathtaking view. Spending all my time in landlocked Pittsburgh made me appreciate everything the ocean had to offer.
I strolled along the far corner of the property, hearing the iron gate to the family crypt squeaking in the wind. I jumped, startled by the loud slamming crash. I had read families often buried their dead on the castle’s grounds in Europe. Even though it was strange to find the stone memorials just beyond the kitchen door, the centuries-old graveyard didn’t unsettle me. My time in the cemetery as a child had allowed me to make peace with the dead. Another crack of metal against stone sounded. The wind was bound to destroy the ancient ironwork.
With swift steps, I drifted toward the large stone structure, the final resting place of people who lived hundreds of years before my birth. I pulled my sweater tighter around me as the breeze blew colder with each gust. I mused on the irony that I was carrying the child of a man at least as old. Reality didn’t fade for me; it shattered. In many ways, I still grieved Cyril’s death that first time he perished. Part of me died with him.
Clasping my hand around the iron ivy design, I tried to yank the door closed, but noticed it’s misshapen form. The door didn’t blow open; it had been pried open from the inside. The moment my mind considered what could have been strong enough to do this damage, something solid impacted my chest, knocking me backward down the stairs.
I blinked my eyes, praying what my mind perceived resulted from head trauma and not real. The ocean mist was thick, weighing down my eyelashes, but her glowing green eyes were unmistakable.
Planting her foot on the first step, her voice carried on the wind. “Fool.”
My palms pressed into the grass, attempting to raise my body, but my hands slipped on the dewy blades, prohibiting traction.
She descended another step. “He won’t succeed.” Her voice was rough, seemingly years older than the waif of a girl she appeared to be.
Cyril had called her Celestine. “Celestine… what do you want?” I shook the wet hair from my face and scooted away from her, trying to discern how she could see with only the green, now glowing orbs for eyes.
Another step. “I can’t allow him to win. He’ll enslave me.”
“Don’t come any closer. I’ll drop you right where you are.” I held my arm extended, palm out.
She cackled. “Go ahead, try. She’d thank you, but you must wait because I need her.”
Her? “Who are you?”
More laughter. “One would think my beloved would have picked someone more astute.”
Oh, fuck. It can’t be. “Aristia?”
“He’s told you about me?”
“How are you alive?”
“I’m not. She is. Somehow my power kept her from dying. But it’s my proximity to the place where I entered this forsaken world that gave me enough strength to wake her. It’s this land that holds the energy to make it possible.”
I steadied my footing and stood as she continued her slow approach. “What do you want?”
“Vidius must be stopped.”
“Wow. I can’t believe we agree on something.”
An eerie smile crossed her face beneath the vacant green eyes that pierced the fog. “Oh, it’s not the only thing we agree on. You seem to appreciate my lover.”
“Cyril? How can you even know? You’re trapped in…” I waved my arms at her. “In her body.”
“I can tell he’s part of you.”
Lightning crackled just beyond the cliff, and the mist turned into a blustery drizzle that would soon be a downpour.
“What do you want?” I took a step backward.
“Vidius can’t succeed. I will never allow him to have control.”
A crack of thunder startled me as lightning lit up the sky. I glanced back toward… Aristia? Celestine? Cyril’s ex-lovers were really pissing me off. My eyes met the green spheres inches away. Before I could turn to run, she grabbed me by the throat and tossed me backward. She screamed over the howling of the wind. “I won’t be his slave. The child must die, and it will be poetic to give my beloved your dead body as a homecoming gift. I love seeing him suffer.”
Before I could catch my breath, she plucked me from the ground. My feet dangled, and I clutched her hand, struggling to remove it from my throat. Her grip was too tight.
I couldn’t respond. Gasping for air proved pointless.
She tossed me again, and I landed several feet away, crashing my hip into the ground. I didn’t hesitate to get up this time. The downpour hit, and rain hindered my visibility and pelted my skin, but this time, I was ready for her.
Nobody was taking my child. I focused my second sight.
Her outstretched hand came into view, but so did her soul. I lunged toward her, slamming my hand against her chest. She screamed as I pulled the life source from her body with my focused will.
The storm drowned out the sound of her last cry. With her soul clutched in my fist, her body slumped to the
ground.
I was overcome with the images rushing through my head—her soul to my mind. The young woman. Cyril. Vidius. Her eyes. It was like the worst kind of horror movie. I tucked the soul in my pocket.
Without thinking, I rammed my fingers into her eye sockets and pulled. Tissue had grown around the orbs, but it didn’t deter me. I yanked the first one free, and then the second, bringing with them blood and nerve fiber. I stowed the magical orbs capable of giving a goddess life in the pocket of my robe.
I stood and glared up into the sky, hoping somehow she’d hear me. “You will not win. You will never take what’s mine.”
Leaving her body on the courtyard lawn, I trudged to the kitchen door, numb from adrenaline leaving my system.
I opened the door. Overton’s voice sounded distant and faint even though he only stood across the room. His words were muffled by the static of heavy rain. “Oh, there you are. Why didn’t you…” His expression turned to one of complete horror. “Oh, my God, what happened?”
I glanced down and saw the blood from the green eyes seeping through my pocket. Reaching my hand in, I retrieved an orb and held it up for his inspection. Nerve endings dangled from my fingertips. “The dead girl tried to kill me.”
“My God, Linden, we need to get you to the hospital.” He gripped my shoulders.
So overwhelmed I barely registered what he said, I mumbled, “I’m fine. It’s not my blood.”
“Linden, come sit down. It is you. It’s running down your leg. We have to check the baby.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Arrival
The scream erupted from my throat. My back arched, and the pain summoned sweat to the surface of my skin. My vision blurred, focusing and unfocusing. I wasn’t alone. Frantic movements made shadows dance on the walls. Something cold pressed against my forehead. The taste of Cyril’s blood coated my tongue. Cyril’s voice drew me like a beacon.
He mumbled, “Oh, thank God,” and then bellowed, “Stanton. Get up here, now.”
His words died in my ears, drowned by pain. My back bowed through another spasm. I clutched the covers, balling my hands into fists.
