Reign of Mist: Book of Sindal Book Two

by D. G. Swank

  Phoebe shook her head. “He’s not. And ancestral magic only lets me borrow magic, not keep it.”

  “But what if it was yours to begin with?” Celeste asked, then shook her head. “There’s a way for you to get it back. I’m certain of it.”

  I was happy she was so optimistic. “We still have to bury the body. Is there something you can do, Celeste? Give Bee an energy boost or use your own magic to dig a hole?”

  She was silent for a moment and when she spoke her anxiety had returned. “I didn’t mean to kill him, only stop him from taking Phoebe. My magic’s been erratic for months, but it’s even worse now after Donall and his people bled and tortured me. I’m worried I’ll blow up half the cemetery.”

  My gut clenched. I knew Donall, the leader of the Dark Set, had tortured her to find out how to open the book. When he’d discovered through magic—not Celeste breaking—that he needed blood from all three of us, he’d sent someone to our house to steal a vial of my blood. With two down and one to go, he’d lured Brandon and Phoebe to his hideout, where he’d stolen her blood too. Both of my sisters swore he hadn’t used the vial of my blood on the book, but no one knew what had become of it. I’d seen the book upon their return home, and the cover and edges were soaked with my sisters’ blood. All the Dark Set needed was my blood to get that sucker open and unleash terrifying power upon the unsuspecting world. Unless…

  “Where did that blue ball of power come from? I’ve never heard of any such power, and it goes against all witch and mage laws to steal another person’s magic. So where did it come from?”

  Phoebe’s eyes hardened. “Donall didn’t get the book open, if that’s what you’re insinuating. He added our blood, but Brandon and I fought him before he could add yours. Then he turned into a crow and flew away.”

  “But I’ve never heard of this type of magic before.” I pinned her with a dark gaze. “You’re positive my blood didn’t get on it?”

  “I didn’t see him drop any on it,” Phoebe protested, but fear filled her eyes. She knew this type of magic wasn’t natural. “Celeste was with them longer than I was. CeCe, did you see anything?”

  She studied both of us for an uncomfortable length of time before she said, “I didn’t see him do anything with anyone’s blood but my own.” Then she added, “And Phoebe’s.”

  Thinking about my sisters being tied down and slashed with magical invisible blades made me angrier than it did freaked out. But there was something strange about the look on Celeste’s face. She was hiding something.

  “We still need to bury him.” She pushed out a breath.

  “So we resort to good old-fashioned digging,” Phoebe said, already sounding exhausted.

  “Maybe you should go inside the house and lie down,” I said.

  “I’m not going in there by myself. I’m still too freaked out to be alone.”

  “We’ll help dig the hole,” Celeste said, casting a glance at the dead body. “We’re all in this together.”

  If we were in this together, why was Celeste keeping a secret?

  Chapter Three

  An hour later, we were all hot and sweaty despite the fact that the temperature had dipped into the low fifties as the sun started going down. We’d dug about three feet into the ground, and while it wasn’t a perfect rectangle, it was deep enough to bury a body. We’d grabbed an old sheet when we’d gone up to the house to get shovels. Our intention had been to wrap him in it, but it had also helped us drag him to the grave.

  I’d vomited again when we’d rolled his bloodied body onto the sheet, and I’d come dangerously close to vomiting a fourth time when we’d shoved the body into the hole. But as we stood next to the open grave, staring down at the bloody sheet, my own discomfort seemed insubstantial compared with my sisters’ exhaustion. Phoebe had lost physical energy with her magic, and Celeste hadn’t been one hundred percent in years.

  “Why don’t you two head up to the house and take a shower while I finish here?” I suggested. “I’ll make something for us to eat when I get back.”

  “You need my expression magic to help hide the grave,” Celeste protested.

  “I’ll glamour it and you can add your expression magic in the morning.”

  Celeste didn’t look convinced, but I shot a pointed glance toward Phoebe, who was obviously ready to collapse.

  “Okay,” Celeste said. “But hurry.”

  Phoebe shook her head. “This isn’t right.”

  “I don’t have the strength to carry you,” I grumped. “So please do me the favor of collapsing in the house.”

  Phoebe gave me a hug, but I remained stiff and refused to hug her back. If I let my guard down, I’d probably burst into tears. “Go already.”

  She gave me one more squeeze before heading back to the house. Celeste picked up their shovels—something Phoebe was probably too weak to manage—and glanced back at me as she followed her.

  I leaned against my own shovel until they were out of view.

  I wasn’t thrilled to be alone with a dead body, but I was grateful to have a moment to let my guard down. I was the loud, sarcastic, tough Whelan sister, which meant I couldn’t let myself fall apart in front of them.

  Tossing the dirt into the hole was still hard work, although easier than digging. Fifteen minutes later, I finished smoothing the top of the grave with my shovel, then focused my energy on the freshly turned dirt, adding some sparse clumps of grass and a mass of decaying leaves. A few stones and then a sprinkling of mushrooms. Layer after layer, each more delicate than the last, until the ground didn’t look the least bit disturbed.

  My talent might be mundane, but I was pretty damn good at it.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, a memory of my father rippled through my mind. We were all sitting at the dinner table, and my father beamed as he bragged about my glamouring skills to my mother. I was only nine at the time but already aware that I was nothing special compared to my sisters. That dinner marked the first time anyone had made me proud of anything I’d done with magic.

  I started toward the house, then realized Lester’s car was still parked in the lane off the main road. I needed to get rid of it in case anyone came snooping. Then a new horrifying thought hit me.

  What if we’d buried his keys? Why hadn’t we thought to go through his pockets?

  I hurried to his car and nearly cried with relief when I found the key fob in the console cup holder. After I turned over the engine, I did a quick check inside. A few crumpled food wrappers and mystery stains aside, there was nothing of note. The lack of any useful clues made me feel a bit better about forgetting to check the contents of his pockets. But what was I going to do with the car? I considered glamouring it to hide it, but I’d feel better moving it off our property and onto the county road. The human police would find it, but they wouldn’t have any reason to link him or his car to our farm.

  Glamouring the car to make it temporarily invisible, I drove it about a half mile down the county road and parked on the shoulder. While I would have preferred to leave it farther away, I didn’t want to make my walk home any longer than it needed to be. It was totally dark now, and I could see my breath. At least I’d thought to grab my coat when we’d gone back to the house for shovels.

  I tossed the keys into the woods, then jogged across the street and started walking home. Once I was a good twenty feet away, I removed the glamour from the car. Huddling in my coat’s warmth, I walked as quickly as I dared. I probably should have glamoured myself invisible, but I was exhausted and spent and eager to go home.

  I almost made it.

  About a quarter mile or so before the turnoff onto our property, I heard a car approaching from behind. I moved closer to the edge of the shoulder, but the car slowed down, creeping behind. The headlights cast a long shadow in front of me.

  My pulse picked up and I ran through my options about who it could be. The Dark Set? A serial killer? My mind went to dark places, but when the car slowly rolled up next to me, I was tak
en aback to see it was a police car. The passenger window was down and a young, very handsome officer was leaning across the passenger seat. “Is everything okay? Do you need a ride?”

  Well, shit. I didn’t need this complication. “Oh, no thank you, officer,” I said in a cheery voice that sounded a little too chipper coming from me. I kept walking, hoping he’d take the hint and drive off. “I’m just out for an evening walk.”

  “That’s not your car broken down back there?”

  Obviously, I wasn’t a criminal mastermind. I should have left the glamour on for a few hours. “No.” I tried to appear nonchalant as I cast a glance over my shoulder. The car was out of sight, but I made a good show of pretending to look for it. “Like I said, I’m just out for a walk.”

  “It’s not safe to be out walking on this road in the dark.”

  I stopped and put my hands on my hips. “Why? Because I’m a woman?” I interjected plenty of sass into the last word.

  His car rolled to a gentle stop. “No, because you’re wearing dark clothing while walking on a curvy two-lane road.” Then the sexiest grin I’d ever seen spread across his face. “I’m pretty sure you could take whatever bad guy came your way.”

  I tilted my head to the side and appraised him. Even seated in the car, I could tell he was tall. His dark hair was shorter than I usually liked, almost military style, but it drew more attention to his warm brown eyes and the dimple accompanying that sexy grin.

  It took me a moment to remember that I was in the middle of attempting to cover up a murder scene and should not, under any circumstances, be talking to a cop.

  But boy, did I want to stay and talk to him.

  All the more reason to walk away.

  Shoving my hands in my coat pockets, I said, “Thank you for your suggestion, officer. I’ll take your advice into consideration the next time I take a walk. Have a good night.” I tipped my head in dismissal as I started walking.

  To my irritation, he started rolling next to me again. “Where’re you headed?”

  “I wasn’t aware I needed to file a route with the police” was out of my mouth before I could stop myself. Smooth, Rowan.

  “Are you always this defensive?” he asked in an amused tone.

  “Only when guys are stalking me.”

  He sped up, and to my annoyance, I felt…disappointed. Sure, Officer Hot Stuff was fine to look at, but looking was all I could do. I wasn’t open to dating a human. It was too messy. Too complicated. Especially for a Whelan sister.

  But to my irritation, he didn’t drive away. Instead, he pulled over onto the shoulder about twenty feet in front of me, then got out of the car and closed the door.

  Dammit, Rowan, I chastised myself. When will you learn to control your mouth?

  Likely when hell froze over.

  When he started walking toward me, I knew I should be cautious, maybe even a little anxious, but his warm, welcoming grin was the opposite of threatening. I’d been right about him being tall, but he was bulky too—and not an I sit in my patrol car eating too many donuts kind of way. This was the kind of bulk that came from spending hours in the gym. I nearly wrote him off based on that alone. Personal experience had taught me that gym guys were complete and utter assholes, but there was no way a guy with a grin like that was an asshole.

  You’re not supposed to be thinking about him like that at all, I reminded myself. You need to get rid of him. Pronto.

  “Have I done something wrong, officer?” I asked, keeping my hands in my pockets.

  “No,” he said good-naturedly as he continued to walk toward me. “But I can see how it might be intimidating to have a police car driving next to you down the road.”

  “Well, now that you’ve pulled over, it shouldn’t be a problem,” I said, getting slightly nervous as I got closer to him. I wasn’t worried about him. In fact, that was the problem—my guard was dropping like a poorly set soufflé. He was the last person I should talk to, yet I was tempted to keep bantering with him.

  His smile fell slightly. “I know you think I’m being intrusive, but there have been reports of strange activity in this area.”

  “You think I’m the source?” I asked as I stopped in front of him.

  “No, I’m worried that you’ll get swept up into it.” His grin returned as he held up his hands in surrender. “Not that I think you’re a helpless female. In fact, I’d be more concerned about the safety of anyone you come across.”

  Unable to stop myself, I cocked my head and lifted my brow. “And what about you, Officer…” My gaze dipped to his name tag before returning to his face. “Gillespie. Are you worried about your safety with me?”

  His eyes twinkled in the moonlight. “I think I can handle you.”

  This was the stuff of those stupid romance movies Phoebe watched nonstop, yet I didn’t feel the slightest inclination to gag.

  “Well, Officer,” I said, fighting a grin. “If I promise not to molest or attack anyone, will you let me go on my way?”

  He turned serious. “I’d rather escort you to wherever you’re going.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but unlike some girls, it’s not my fantasy to ride in a patrol car with a good-looking officer, so I’ll pass and just keep walking.”

  I stepped around him and picked up my pace, but with his long legs, he was beside me in two seconds.

  “Is it far?” he asked, and this time I heard the worry in his tone. He was genuinely concerned about me. That realization caught me so off guard that I actually answered.

  “No,” I admitted, pointing ahead. “It’s just down there around the curve.”

  He paused a second. “The Whelan farm.”

  “Yep,” I said with just enough attitude to dissuade him from asking more questions.

  Or so I thought.

  “You’re one of the Whelan sisters.”

  “Is this an interrogation?” I asked, walking past his still-running car.

  He opened the car door, and I felt a slight twinge of disappointment—that was the end of that—but he surprised me by turning off the engine and shutting the door. Falling in step beside me, he said, “I was due for a break, so I’ll walk with you.”

  “You don’t trust me?” I asked.

  “On the contrary,” he said, shoving his hands into his coat pockets too. “I trust you implicitly.”

  I shot him a dark look. “Then why follow me?”

  “I’m not following you, Ms. Whelan. I’m merely enjoying the fresh night air while strolling with an amiable woman.”

  I couldn’t help bursting out into a laugh. “I suspect you’re one of the only people to call me amiable.”

  “Okay,” he said, leaning his head forward slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s try intriguing.”

  My mouth twisted to the side as I fought to keep from grinning. “Aren’t you frightened to be walking next to me, Officer Gillespie? Haven’t you heard the rumors about the eccentric Whelan sisters?”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  We walked in silence for several seconds before he turned serious again. “About the reports of strange activity…”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” I assured him.

  “Oh.” He stood up straighter and I found myself wondering about his exact height. I stood at five-eight and he was a good half foot taller than me. “I’m not apologizing. I’m asking if you know why we’ve received them.”

  Well, shit. Just when I was letting myself enjoy our stroll. “Why, Officer. Don’t you think we would have called 911 if we’d had any kind of trouble?”

  “That would be the logical conclusion, but the fact you’re insisting on walking in forty-degree weather instead of accepting a ride in a warm patrol car makes me question otherwise.”

  “Well, aren’t you the clever one,” I said with plenty of sass. “You figured out that I’d rather freeze my ass off than get in a warm, cozy car with you.” I hadn’t meant that last retort to sound so hateful, but he had c
aught me by surprise, and when I felt cornered, I always bared my sharp claws.

  He stopped walking and I realized we were at the entrance to our property.

  “Ms. Whelan,” he said softly, his tone apologetic. “Will you tell me your first name?”

  “No,” I said, my back stiff. “Unless it’s an official request.”

  He studied me for a moment, his dark eyes locked on my green ones. Then he slowly lifted his hand to my face and brushed his fingertips lightly across my cheek. “You had a piece of dirt stuck to your cheek.”

  I batted his hand away, grateful for the reminder of the mage’s death. Priorities, Rowan. “Thanks.”

  He pulled back, staring at me as if he’d seen a ghost. The man looked stricken. Had no one ever given him the brush-off before? But the surprise on his face slid away, replaced with a soft, appreciative smile that reached his eyes. He hadn’t looked away from me for a second.

  “No,” he said finally, “it wasn’t an official order, just a man intrigued by a beautiful woman and wanting to know more about her.” He gave me a short nod. “You enjoy the rest of your night.” He turned and headed back to his car, and I stood there like a lovesick fool, hoping he’d turn back again.

  Get your shit together, Rowan Whelan. You have bigger issues to deal with.

  But my heart was struggling to figure out what they might be.

  Chapter Four

  I was thrust back into those bigger issues as soon as I walked in the front door.

  Both of my sisters stared at me from their seats on the sofa with huge, fearful eyes.

  “What?” I demanded as I started to unbutton my coat.

  “We’ve been summoned.”

  I shook my head. “Summoned by who?”

  “The Small Council,” Phoebe said, her mouth drawn.

  “A Protocol Thirteen” I asked. The words sounded strangled, and for good reason—my heart was lodged in my throat.