Everbound: The Kindred

by Grant, Donna

  “My father was a drunk and a brute of a man who used his fists instead of words. I lost track of the times I watched him beat my mother. If I made any noise that called his attention to me, Mum would make sure to turn it back to her. I begged her to stand against him, to defend herself, but she said we needed him. Without him, we had no one to provide for us, no one to protect us. I urged her to use magic, but she scoffed at me.”

  Helena swallowed, pausing a moment. “I was in a foul mood when Da stumbled home one evening. It took nothing for me to anger him, as usual. Perhaps I wanted that, but I was unprepared when he backhanded me. I will never forget the taste of blood that filled my mouth or the numbness along my cheek. Or the rage.

  “Mum stepped in before he could hit me again. I scrambled out of the way, watching as I normally did. But this time was different. This time, he did not relent. This time, he kept hitting her even after she was unconscious. I could stand it no longer, so I used magic to break his neck.”

  She could still hear the sickening sound, even all these years later. Helena scratched her cheek and drew in a quick breath. “I rushed to Mum and checked her injuries. When she came to and saw what I had done, she cried for him. The man who had nearly killed her. Even now, I cannot understand that. She knew without asking that I’d used magic. She told me I had to leave, to run far away so no one could find me. So, I did.”

  “How old were you?” Jarin asked.

  “Not yet five and ten. I ran for weeks, stealing food when I could and relying heavily on my magic to survive. But I knew if I wanted a life, then I had to forget magic. It took a while, but I did it. I learned to survive on my own. I met a kind, older couple who gave me shelter, and I suppose, a home. They never asked any questions. They simply accepted me for who I was.

  “I learned that they’d lost their daughter years before to a fever, so I suppose they thought of me as theirs. It was nice having such a kind, loving couple looking after me. I helped them around their home until I was the one taking care of them.”

  Jarin stretched out his legs as he leaned against the wall. “It sounds perfect.”

  “I suppose it was. Except that I had to lie about who I really was. So many times, I could have used magic to help them, but I refused. Then, I met a man. He was charming and handsome, and I fell for it all. A month later, I discovered I was pregnant the same day he left the village, never to be seen again. But the couple did not throw me out. They were actually excited about the prospect of a baby in the house.”

  Helena turned her head to Jarin, briefly meeting his gaze. “Their love knew no bounds. Not once did they ridicule me or cast me out. I carried the babe without trouble and birthed her quickly. She was beautiful and healthy.” Helena paused, overcome with the memories of holding her daughter. “Three months later, when she grew sick, and no medicines worked, I turned to magic to heal her. What I had no way of knowing was that there were Coven members nearby. They came for me. Sybbyl was one of them. I refused to join them, and they killed the couple. Then—” She stopped as her throat clogged with emotion.

  Valdr crawled closer to her and laid his head on her lap. She blinked through the tears she hadn’t shed in years and ran her hand along his head.

  “They killed your child,” Jarin finished.

  Helena nodded slowly. “When it happened, it was as if time stopped. I was detached from myself. The only thing I felt was anger. The rage swept through me so fiercely that I had no desire to stop it. I unleashed it on the witches, striking them down with barely a thought. Sybbyl was the only one quick enough to block my assault. I wanted to finish the fight, but I was so bereft, I couldn’t manage to gather my magic again. Sybbyl might not have been hit with my magic directly, but it disoriented her. That gave me time to flee. I did not have the opportunity to bury my child or the couple, though. I ran. Again.”

  In fact, she had been running ever since.

  When Jarin said nothing, Helena looked at him, wondering why he was so silent. The simple act of petting Valdr did wonders to calm her after reliving that horrible time in her life.

  “I know why the Coven wants you,” the warlock finally said.

  “Because I killed some of their witches?”

  His chest expanded as he pulled in a deep breath. “How many did you kill that day?”

  She frowned as she tried to remember. “There were six—no, seven of them. Six died, with Sybbyl remaining.”

  “You say you only had to think about their deaths and they were gone?”

  Helena gave a nod.

  Jarin’s brows shot up in his forehead. “You have no idea how powerful you are, do you? An untrained witch using magic without a spell or an object to help you. You used your mind.”

  “Is that rare?”

  “Very,” he replied softly.

  12

  As soon as Jarin heard about Helena’s ability, he began to rethink their action of finding the Coven. In fact, the more he considered it, the more he thought it might be better to take her to Blackglade.

  The power of the Varroki might be enough to protect her. Then again, if the Coven was tracking Helena, then returning would mean leading the witches straight to Blackglade. No longer would his home be secret. Did he really want to be the one responsible for having the Coven follow him to the gates?

  “You’re rethinking having me with you.”

  His gaze snapped to Helena. Her face was turned toward the fire, and her voice was even, just a hint of resignation in her tone. She had been running for so long. There were very few times she had felt safe or cared for. He wanted her to feel that way with him.

  And he wanted to be the one to keep her that way.

  “I’m not,” he stated.

  She forced a smile as she glanced at him. “It’s all right. I understand. You have a mission, and I would only be in the way.”

  Jarin rose and walked to squat before her. He waited until her gaze met his, then he said, “I am not abandoning you. I will not let you leave on your own. The fact is, you’re a powerful witch, and the Coven knows it. They want you. You can run forever, but they will find you.”

  “If Leoma had not been there last time, I’d be dead. I do not believe I can escape a third time.”

  “You forget, you have a Varroki with you.”

  Her lips curved into a brief smile. “I am tired of running, but I cannot be the reason any more innocents are killed.”

  “I understand.”

  She jumped up and began to pace. “You cannot. They murdered my child. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

  He moved before her and grabbed her shoulders to halt her. “The Coven cannot force you to join them. You have to agree on your own. I think they want you because they fear you standing against them.”

  As he gazed into her green eyes, he saw comprehension fill them. Her shoulders relaxed as the tension slowly faded from her body.

  “You have not seen me do any magic,” she said with a frown. “I could be making this up.”

  He should release her. He knew it. But just like earlier when he held her against him, he couldn’t. The simple truth was that he liked touching her.

  Liked... Hell. He treasured every moment, eager for every heartbeat he could have her against him.

  He wanted her near him. Needed her like he needed air to breathe.

  “Aye, you could. The fact that the Coven is tracking you when you have done no magic makes me more inclined to believe you.”

  Helena sighed loudly as she gave an exhausted shake of her head. “Maybe I was wrong about what I felt at the abbey.”

  “I saw your face. You felt something, and whatever it was, it scared you enough to have you on the run again.”

  Her hand reached up and touched his arm, reminding him that he still had a hold of her. The atmosphere shifted within the cave. He couldn’t look away from her any more than he could make his fingers release her.

  The way Helena gazed up at him so trustingly, made Jarin want
to lean down and sample her lips. He could never remember craving something as badly as he did her mouth.

  Valdr let out a low, rumbling growl. Jarin’s head snapped to the wolf to find the animal staring out of the cave. A glance at Andi showed that she, too, was looking at something outside.

  Jarin moved his hand, about to wave it over the fire to put it out with magic, when Helena stopped him.

  “Wait,” she whispered.

  They remained together, listening for any sound. The night had gone eerily quiet, the silence deafening as they heard each other breathing.

  “I need to put out the fire,” he told her.

  She hurried to the fire and began moving aside the limbs that he had conjured. “Not with magic.”

  “The Coven cannot track my magic.”

  “Maybe not before,” she said, glancing at him. “Sybbyl has the staff, remember? We do not know what she can do now.”

  Jarin flattened his lips. Helena had a point. It was better to be safe. Instantly, he was beside her, helping put out the fire with what little dirt they could scrape from the rocks. Finally, he used his cloak to stamp out the last lingering flames.

  The animals hadn’t moved. Whatever was outside still held their attention, though. When Helena made to walk to the entrance, Jarin pulled her back.

  “You said I would have to stop running.”

  He turned her toward the back of the cave. “This is not the place for a battle.”

  “We have the higher ground,” she argued.

  “And nowhere to move. The witches would back us in here, trapping us.”

  She gave a reluctant nod of agreement. “I suppose we should get some sleep.”

  “I will take first watch,” he told her. “Rest. Valdr will keep you warm.”

  Jarin waited until Helena laid on her side, using her arm as a pillow before he moved toward the entrance to peer out. If he were alone, he would happily confront whoever was out there, but his instincts told him to protect Helena. She was vital to the Coven, and because of that, he would do whatever it took to keep her out of their hands.

  Because, while he’d said they couldn’t force her, it had been a lie. If Sybbyl had magic powerful enough, along with the Staff of the Eternal, she might very well be able to make Helena do whatever she wanted.

  The simple truth was that no one really knew what the bones of the First Witch could do. The fact that the First Witch feared what would happen to her after she died so much that she’d instructed her followers to distribute her bones far and wide spoke volumes.

  She had also ensured that her skull had a Warden that would keep it out of the hands of evil. Whether the First Witch was good or not didn’t matter. She’d made a decision at the end of her life that set everything in motion.

  Jarin wondered if she had seen what was to come. Is that why she’d put such things in place to make it difficult for the Coven to gather all her bones? And what would happen if all of them were found and brought back together?

  Even more worrying was the question of whether the Coven needed all of the bones. Or were only certain ones required?

  Jarin squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. This was a time he wished he could communicate with the Lady of the Varroki. Malene saw glimpses into the future. She, like Helena, had only scraped the surface of her magic. Who knew what she could do.

  He looked over his shoulder at Helena to find her breathing evenly, and Valdr lying against her back, his big head resting on her bent legs.

  Jarin crossed to Andi. He held out his arm, and the falcon jumped on it without hesitation. For several moments, he petted the bird as she closed her eyes.

  “I need your help,” he whispered.

  Andi’s eyes opened, and she looked at him. She cocked her head as if waiting to hear what he had to say.

  “Fly to Blackglade. I need you to go to Malene. I have nothing to write on, nor will I take the chance of using magic to deliver a message. She will know you are mine. I need...”

  He paused and closed his eyes for a heartbeat. He needed so many answers, but he needed to choose one question to ask. Andi couldn’t talk or convey what was needed to Malene, but it was a chance he had to take.

  “I need to know more about the First Witch.”

  The falcon blinked at him and then, as silent as the dawn, flew away.

  Jarin watched her until he could no longer make her out in the darkness. He continued his vigil for several more hours, looking for anything lurking in the shadows. There was no sign of anyone, and gradually, the sounds of the night returned. He wasn’t convinced that whatever was there had moved on, however.

  It felt as if someone had been peering down at the area, like one did to an insect. And no good could come of that.

  A few hours before dawn, Valdr came to sit beside him. Jarin rubbed the wolf’s head before he rose and stretched his back. The wolf would keep watch with keener eyes and better hearing than Jarin did.

  He looked at Helena and saw that she was curled into a tight ball. The night had gotten significantly colder, and with the fire out, the only thing she had to warm her had been Valdr.

  Jarin only hesitated a moment before he stepped over her and silently lay down beside her. As soon as he did, she scooted back against him, seeking his warmth. He closed his eyes, doing his best not to think about the desire she caused within him or the trousers she wore showcasing her legs—or the fact that her perfectly shaped bottom was pressed against him.

  The sleep he needed wouldn’t come. Not as long as lust ruled him. And certainly not as long as Helena was so near. Yet he couldn’t leave her shivering.

  “Do you never get cold?” Helena murmured.

  He frowned and turned his head toward her, surprised that she was awake. “Aye.”

  “You would not know it.” She then turned and faced him. “You felt it this time, didn’t you? The magic.”

  “Aye. Though I cannot explain what it is.”

  “It leaves a shadow over everything. It makes me feel as if I will never see the sun again.”

  “If it searched for you, then it missed you.”

  She raised a brow. “Did it?”

  “You think it’s toying with you?”

  Helena shrugged and flipped her red hair over her shoulder. “I know it’s Sybbyl, but I cannot prove it.”

  “We have a few more hours until dawn. We will find out more then.”

  Her hand touched his jaw, and she slowly caressed her fingers over his beard. “Thank you for staying with me.”

  “There is no need to—”

  He didn’t get to finish because she leaned in and placed her lips on his. For several seconds, he couldn’t think much less breathe, he was so surprised by her actions. When she began to draw back, he shifted towards her and wrapped an arm around her back, holding her tight.

  Jarin moved his mouth over hers, learning her. As soon as her lips parted, he swept his tongue inside. He moaned and deepened the kiss when she wrapped her arms around him. This was the last thing they should be doing, but he no longer wanted to deny the attraction.

  He accepted it, and the captivating, persuasive desire that had him tightly in its grip.

  Her fingers slid into his hair as he gripped the back of her head, winding her red locks around his hand. The kiss was fiery, the passion building with every stroke of their tongues. It felt as if every action, every moment had driven both of them to this moment—to the yearning that consumed them.

  His cock was hard and aching, longing to be buried within her. And when she rocked her hips against him, he thought he might expire from the pleasure.

  They were about to reach a precipice. If Jarin didn’t pull back now, then he wouldn’t. He would give in to the carnal pleasures that awaited and gladly take every second with Helena—consequences be damned.

  Then he thought of the Coven, Sybbyl, and the staff. He recalled the terror on Helena’s face and in her voice at the abbey before they’d left. Wh
atever desire he had withered like a plant in winter.

  He ended the kiss and bit back a groan when he saw her swollen lips. She didn’t question him, simply lay her head on his chest when he rolled onto his back. Jarin kept his arm around her, locking her against his body. If he couldn’t claim her now, he could at least hold her.

  If it were Sybbyl out there, then he and Helena would have one hell of a fight ahead of them. Warriors always died fighting the Coven. It was a reality Jarin had accepted the moment he took up the mantle.

  Given all his years of fighting the Coven, he had few serious wounds to show for it. He had a suspicion that whatever luck had kept him safe might well have run out. He knew he was one of the best warriors, but would it be enough to best Sybbyl?

  He was fortunate enough to have encountered her recently, but now that she had claimed the staff and made it her own, she might well have become something...more. The Coven was already dangerous and unpredictable. He wanted to be as prepared as he could, but he worried that there would be nothing for him to learn since this was all new to everyone—including the Varroki.

  His people had spent generations and endured countless deaths ensuring that the Coven never rose to any great power. Things couldn’t go wrong now.

  “Rest,” Helena murmured. “There is time for thinking later.”

  Jarin closed his eyes and held her tighter.

  13

  Northern Scottish Isles

  Blackglade

  The quiet before the storm. With gray skies overhead blocking out the morning sun, Armir took the final step winding up the tower and stood outside the door of Malene’s chamber. He stared at the wood, wondering what she was doing within—or if she was even inside.

  Malene liked to stand atop the tower and stare out over the sea. So many times, he’d found her there. He glanced up the steps and decided to go ahead and check.

  Ever since their trip to visit the witch hunters, he’d been...adrift. He hadn’t wanted Malene to leave Blackglade, but even he had to admit that she’d made the right decision. The alliance with the witches and Hunters at the abbey might very well come in handy.