by T. M. Cromer
Alastair chuckled. “Most likely.” After downing some of his own scotch, he said, “We need to find a way to discredit Moore.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Good. In the meantime, keep Liz away from him if you can.”
Rafe tried to hide his involuntary grin with his glass.
“What have you done?”
Had it been anyone else, Alastair’s tone would’ve made them crap their pants. But Rafe understood the dangerous quality wasn’t directed at him.
“I may have performed a small spell.”
“Do tell.”
“If Franklin attempts to kiss her, he feels the pressing need to be elsewhere.”
“How’s that been working out for you?”
“Like a charm. Old Franklin didn’t know what hit him.”
In all their acquaintance, Rafe never saw Alastair laugh so long or loud. “Brilliant!” he gasped. “Sheer brilliance. Thorne-worthy, in fact.”
“Yes, well, Liz will have my ass if she ever finds out.” Rafe shot a warning look his way. “I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself.”
“It goes no farther than this room.”
“Alastair, why did you mention the Champeau family at the meeting?”
“You know Franklin’s true identity, do you not?”
“Yes. But I wasn’t aware you did.”
“I’ve been around a long time, Xuereb. There isn’t a lot I don’t know about the remaining families in the witch community.”
Rafe suspected as much. If one wanted answers, they rarely needed to look much farther than Alastair Thorne. “Why have you never called him out or told Liz he’s lying about his name? She’d believe you.”
“There are many reasons for a person to use an alias. If I’m not mistaken, Liz used a different name when you first met. Regardless, without proof against Franklin, our soft-hearted girl will give him the benefit of the doubt.” Alastair took another sip of scotch. “You and I know we can’t afford to do the same.”
They drank in companionable silence for a while.
“I should go to France,” Rafe finally said.
Alastair lifted a brow. Rafe was sure it was his way of encouraging an explanation.
“The Champeau and Moreau families all come from the same region. I have an in. It will allow me first-hand spying and help me discover if they’re behind this mess.”
“That’s one option.”
“The other?”
“What do you know of the Aether?”
“Damian Dethridge? Not much. For the last twenty years or so, he’s kept to himself.” Rafe met Alastair’s curious gaze. “My understanding is that he hides a source so powerful, he’d die to protect it. As far as I know, he never leaves his estate. I can’t imagine he’s behind this, but he’s the only one strong enough to conjure the type of spell to drain the entire Thorne family.”
“That is my understanding as well. I’d like to pay him a visit at Ravenswood. Will you join me?”
“Of course, although how we will get to his estate from here is questionable.”
“I’ll go the old-fashioned way and fly first class.”
Rafe laughed at the idea of Alastair on a commercial flight. “It might be better if we charter a private plane.”
“No. If someone has it out for our family, my hope is that they are principled enough not to murder hundreds of innocent people to get to me. A private plane is too easy to target. Any witches or warlocks flying with me would be vulnerable because their magic might be void.”
“They could always teleport as long as they aren’t touching you.”
Alastair gave him a sour look, and Rafe laughed again. Who knew teasing Alastair could be such fun?
“I’ll have Alfred make the arrangements.”
Rafe placed his tumbler on the side table and rose to his feet. “I’ll be ready.”
Liz was about to knock on Alastair’s study door when it opened to reveal Rafe. Her breath caught in her throat. His sheer beauty always stole the oxygen from her lungs. A lock of his thick black hair fell across his brow, and she had the strong urge to brush it away. Would her desire to touch him ever leave?
Their gazes locked as he shifted to allow her entry into the room.
“Rafe.”
Alastair captured his attention, and Liz was able to restart her lung function. She also had an unobstructed view of his classic profile. The romantic, girly part of her heaved an internal sigh. Because of her distraction, it took a second for her cousin’s words to sink in.
“I’d like to leave first thing in the morning if it can be arranged. The sooner we speak to Damian, the better.”
“Damian?” she asked. “Damian Dethridge, the Aether?” Her voice had risen with each syllable, and she attempted to moderate it for her next question. “Why the hell are you going to see him?” Okay, so that didn’t work.
Both men wore identical expressions: brows lifted in surprise and mouths forming a small O. Alastair was the first to recover.
“What do you know about Damian?”
“What don’t I know?” She looked from Alastair to Rafe and back again. “He’s dangerous as fuck. Why are you going to see him?”
A slight smile quirked Alastair’s mouth, and Liz wanted to hit him because of its mocking quality. Her cousin knew she was freaking out on Rafe’s behalf. No way in hell did she want him to catch the Aether’s attention. Damian was all things dark and dangerous. He was the boogeyman of the witch community. Want to keep your children in line? Threaten them with Damian Dethridge.
“He may be the key as to why the Thornes have lost their magic,” Rafe said.
“I don’t want you to go,” she blurted.
Again, his brows shot up in surprise.
“He’s dangerous,” she reiterated helplessly.
Understanding lit Rafe’s dark eyes, and a soft smile curled his full lips. “It will be all right, qalbi. I’ve met Damian before. I’m no threat to him, so I have nothing to fear.”
“And if you go charging in where goddesses fear to tread, accusing him of stealing our powers, you don’t think he’s going to view you in a different light?” She really needed to get control of her emotions, or the pitch of her voice would injure the eardrums of any dogs in the vicinity. “Also, let’s face it. There isn’t a person on the planet who would take one look at Alastair Thorne and not feel threatened.” She cast an apologetic look at her cousin. “Sorry, but you know I’m right. You exude threatening, and you enjoy the chaos you create.”
Alastair opened his mouth as if to defend himself, but Rafe cut him off.
“Liz, we need to discover what the root cause of the magical blackout is for your family. Dethridge may be able to provide answers.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
Goddess, she was an idiot. She didn’t want to face off against Damian, but she didn’t trust Rafe and Alastair to play nice either. They needed a moderator, and she was the calmest, most level-headed Thorne in existence. Or she was when Rafe wasn’t involved.
“No.” Rafe crossed his arms.
“Perfect.” Alastair spoke over his objection.
She paid no attention to her cousin and remained focused on Rafe. “I’m going.”
“I said no, qalbi. No way in hell am I putting you in harm’s way.”
“You aren’t. I’m doing it to myself.” She frowned and cut a side glance toward Alastair. The fool sat grinning as if vastly amused. “I meant to say, I… oh, screw it. I have a bargaining chip.”
“Do tell,” Alastair invited. He crossed his legs and took a slow sip of his drink as if he had all the time in the world.
“It’s a magical artifact Damian asked me for.” She held up her hand. “And before you think to bypass me and go to Nash, he doesn’t know what it is. Only I do.”
“Are you seriously going to hold back the information on the artifact to muscle your way into this situation?” Disbelief and some other fleeting emotion flashed
in Rafe’s eyes. She dare not think it was admiration.
Liz lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely. “Yes.”
“I think the important question is, why did he approach you and not Nash?”
“Nash was out of the office at the time. I knew better than to give the Aether a powerful object to boost his ability.”
“And you never told Nash?” Alastair asked. His casual air was false. One had only to look into his intense sapphire eyes to see he was hyper focused on the subject at hand. The man missed nothing.
She shrugged. “I did, but he was preoccupied with other family matters. We never discussed the object Damian needs.”
“Needs?”
“I’ll tell you everything if you promise to let me come with you. No tricks.”
Rafe swore at the same time Alastair laughed.
With one elegant finger, Alastair crossed his heart. “Promise.”
Liz looked to Rafe. His scowl told her he didn’t care for her ultimatum.
“Fine. I promise.”
She couldn’t prevent her smug smile. “Like I said, Damian came to me looking for a special decanter. He knew we store artifacts for the Council. But we didn’t have what he was looking for, so I couldn’t help him.”
“This decanter, what was special about it?” Alastair looked intrigued.
“It was a rare thirteenth-century Japanese jar that could transform any liquid into a toxin. I didn’t question exactly why he wanted it. The man scared the bejeezus out of me.”
When Alastair suddenly grinned, Liz developed the sinking sensation that she knew precisely where the object was. “You have it. It’s the jar you took from the storage room when you helped Ryanne regain her powers, isn’t it?”
Alastair rose gracefully to his feet and set his glass on the sideboard. “The good news is we need look no farther than Alfred for Damian’s desired object.”
“And the bad news?”
“We go tomorrow to meet the Aether.”
Chapter 6
Damian Dethridge was an imposing individual. Even across the expanse of a room, his power could be felt, like tentacles reaching out and testing the waters around him. He wasn’t overly tall, probably no more than six feet, but he was built well for an ancient warlock who looked no older than thirty. Mouthwateringly well.
He moved toward them in slow, measured steps, his eyes never blinking. A panther in human form. Liz’s heart was hammering, and it wasn’t just from nerves. Their eyes met—his so dark brown they appeared black. She found it impossible to look away. The man had a seductive quality. Hypnotic.
Rafe stepped in her path, and his tapered back blocked her view. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful or disappointed. Damian was poetry in motion. The urge to shove Rafe aside to get a better view of the Aether was strong.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?”
A shiver danced along Liz’s spine. His voice was like warm honey, sticking to all the right places.
Unable to help herself, she popped around Rafe and held out her hand. “Mr. Dethridge, it’s a pleasure to see you again, sir.”
“Ms. Thorne.”
She suppressed a shiver at the warmth in his tone. With a wrist-flicking gesture toward the men somewhere behind her, she introduced Rafe and Alastair.
Damian leaned in close and whispered, “May I have my hand back?”
“Oh!” She squeaked and dropped her arm to her side. “Of course. So sorry. My bad.”
Rafe sighed heavily and embraced her with a single arm around her waist. “She doesn’t get out much.”
Damian winked, and Liz was grateful for Rafe’s support; otherwise, she’d surely be a puddle on the floor.
Alastair shifted forward. His gaze and tone were hard as steel when he said, “Dethridge.”
Damian copied his arrogant pose, chin in the air, eyes narrowed and cold. “Thorne.”
Their stances remained locked for all of three heartbeats before both men laughed and man-hugged with a hearty pounding on the each others’ backs.
“It’s good to see you again, my friend.”
“You too, Al. What brings you here?”
“Wait, what? You know each other?” Liz tilted her head back far enough to look up at Rafe. She didn’t feel as foolish when she saw his dumbfounded expression.
“Damian and I go way back,” Alastair confirmed. He shifted and raised the duffle bag he’d been holding, presenting it to the Aether. “I hear you were looking for a very specific artifact.”
“Is that the Kamakura moon flask I was looking for last year?”
“It is.”
The gaze he settled on Liz was noticeably cooler. “I thought you said you didn’t have it.”
“She didn’t. I did,” Alastair replied smoothly. “I learned last night you were in the market for one.”
“One? Try the only charmed flask in existence.” Damian chuckled. “Now, tell me. What do you wish to trade for it?”
“It can’t simply be a gift?”
“From you, Al? No.” Damian’s grin softened the sting of his reply. “But I’ll take it.” He shifted to shake Rafe’s hand. “Mr. Xuereb. Good to see you again. Come, have a seat.”
A light shuffling sound could be heard from behind the curtain. Damian cut his eyes toward the noise and placed a finger to his lips. Ever so carefully, he crept toward the floor-to-ceiling drapes. With great fanfare, he whipped back the curtain. “Aha! I caught you, you little miscreant! Begone, or I’ll turn you over a spit and feed you to my guests.”
The little girl he’d exposed was a tiny replica of his dark good looks. With her obsidian eyes as wide as saucers, she screamed, “No, Papa!” and darted for an exit.
“Teleport, love,” he hollered after her.
The girl disappeared halfway to the door, leaving a smiling Damian in her wake.
“She’s still a bit skittish,” he said by way of explanation.
“How’s Vivian?” Alastair asked, not unkindly.
It was as if shutters came down over their host’s eyes. His expression became carefully blank. “I’m sure you’re not here to discuss my wife.” He gestured to the sofa and chairs in the center of the room. With a simple snap of his fingers, there were four teacups and a steaming pot on the coffee table. “Tea?”
“I’d love some,” Liz gushed, eager to change the subject and get rid of the hard-eyed stranger who’d taken the place of the congenial Damian of minutes before. “Shall I pour?”
He gave her a nod and a bland smile.
Alastair perched on the arm of the sofa. “I won’t beat around the bush, my friend. The Thornes seem to be under attack. Our powers are no more.”
“Goddess!” Damian sucked in a sharp breath and glanced from one to the other. A calculating expression settled on his striking face. “You thought I was behind this?”
Alastair accepted the teacup from Liz. “As the Aether and someone who has the ability to collect another’s power with ease, you are the most likely suspect. However, I believe we’re being targeted by another.”
“And you need me to discover exactly who is behind this,” the Aether concluded.
“Something like that.”
“The moon flask is in exchange for information, then?”
“Yes.”
A devilish gleam lightened the dark void of his eyes. “You know, it would benefit me to take your power, right?”
“I do. But you’re far too honorable,” Alastair countered.
“Perhaps.”
Damian stared into his teacup as if all the answers of the universe could be found there.
Liz wasn’t aware she held her breath until Rafe ran gentle fingers along the nape of her neck. “Breathe, qalbi,” he murmured.
Damian’s attention was caught by the soft words. He studied the two of them as if he were conducting a science experiment, head slightly tilted without any discernible emotion. “Okay. I’ll help you. I’ll reach out to a few old contacts and should have answers w
ithin twenty-four hours. Two days at most. In the meantime, you can stay in my guesthouse.”
* * *
Rafe’s first instinct was to reject any offer made by Damian. The man radiated strength and power with a whole lot of menace. The ripple of his magic could be felt in every glance or wave of the Aether’s hand. He was currently the only one of his kind, able to absorb the powers of others with little to no effort. Other than Knox Carlyle, who had been gifted with magic directly from the Goddess Isis, Rafe had never truly considered there would be anyone more powerful than Alastair Thorne. But across from him was the stuff of nightmares. Damian Dethridge could level a city block with a simple thought.
It had initially shocked Rafe when Alastair embraced Damian. He hadn’t realized the two men were friends, although he shouldn’t have been surprised. They were both the black sheep of the witch community: Alastair for his rebelliousness and Damian for his ability to drain an individual dry.
“How does your power work, Mr. Dethridge? How are you able to steal magic?”
Liz gasped at Rafe’s boldness, and Alastair cast him a sharp glance. Damian merely smiled. There was coldness in the twist of his lips, but his eyes held grudging respect.
“There’s no special skill, Mr. Xuereb. A mere thought can do the trick. Shall I show you?”
“No!” Liz practically threw herself in front of Rafe. “Please, don’t. I… we… need him. He’s all we have for protection.”
“You are like a little kitten, Ms. Thorne. All sweet and docile one second, but fierce and spitting the next.” Damian turned the full wattage of his charm on Liz, and Rafe bristled.
Color crept into her cheeks, and she ducked her head. Rafe’s jealousy monster came out of hibernation. The need to challenge Damian was in every fiber of his being.
The Aether seemed amused by Rafe’s behavior. “Because I like her and I respect Alastair, I’ll leave your powers intact, Mr. Xuereb. However, I urge caution. Don’t make the mistake of getting on my bad side.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Rafe replied. He’d be damned if he would poke the bear in the cage. Certainly not one so dangerous.
