Moonlit Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  “You’re wrong, Mother,” Rafe said softly. “She’ll kill you for your power. She’ll kill each and every one of us without prejudice or reason. Her sanity will be even more questionable this time around after two hundred years of isolation.”

  “You’ll see. I can restore the family name again. We will be revered.”

  It wasn’t a stretch to see his mother was on the same playing field as Isolde had been. What must it take to send someone so far over the edge?

  “No, we will be reviled, and disgust will drip from everyone’s voice when they speak the Champeau name,” he corrected. “Because by resurrecting the Enchantress, you resurrect an evil so great, it will decimate families… again.”

  “I will have my fortunes restored!” Her scream echoed off the walls and brought more dust down on their heads from the ancient ceiling overhead.

  Sweat beaded Rafe’s brow, and his cousin didn’t look particularly thrilled at the idea of a cave-in either, as was obvious by her wary look up.

  “That weasel Franco! He stole from our coffers to fund his ridiculous business ventures. He’s cost us everything.” A villainous smile formed on her thin lips and sent a chill down Rafe’s spine. “But I had the last laugh, didn’t I?”

  “What did you do, Auntie?” his cousin asked in a soft, non-threatening tone. “How did you get your revenge on Franco?”

  “I persuaded him to channel the Thornes’ magic to wake Isolde de Thorne. The fool thought he could do it, too, but it wasn’t him who took their power.” Her evil glee was directed at Rafe. “You did.”

  His ability to inquire as to her deeds died away, and all he could do was stare at this twisted stranger in budding horror.

  “I can’t fix him,” Sabrina cried.

  Liz gathered Damian’s daughter to her and stared at Alastair, helpless, as the girl began to sob. It wasn’t difficult to see the deep emotion from the two of them was crippling him, and he closed his eyes against their grief.

  “Take her home, child. Back to Ravenswood. I’ll follow shortly with Damian.”

  “No! No!” Sabrina frantically fought to escape Liz’s embrace; shoving, squirming, and anything else she could do to wiggle free. “No! I can’t leave Papa. I can’t, or he’ll be gone for good.”

  “Sabrina, sweetheart, I need you to calm down,” Liz ordered in a firm, no-nonsense tone. “We cannot help your father if you’re hysterical, and you’re our best chance to revive him.” She smoothed back Sabrina’s black hair and gently brushed the tears from her cheeks, praying all the while the girl could really do it. “My cousin is an empath. Do you know what that means?”

  The girl nodded and cast a worried look his way.

  “He’s feeling what we are, but amplified because of where we are. This is a magical place meant to kick things up. You and I have to put our feelings on hold so we can help Alastair fix your papa.”

  Again, the child nodded.

  “Thank you, Elizabeth.”

  “No problem, cousin.” She avoided looking at the center of the circle. Franco’s bloodied face was a gruesome sight and the stuff of nightmares. Positioning herself to shield Sabrina from the scene, Liz got an up-close-and-personal view of Damian’s still body. She inhaled a shaky breath. Seeing him practically lifeless made her want to vomit what little breakfast she’d had time to consume. “Tell me what we need to do.”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Alastair admitted quietly as he felt for a pulse in Damian’s neck.

  Sabrina caught their attention when she asked, “Do you have Grandmother’s note?”

  “What note, child?”

  “She sent you a note before she was put under the garden by Isis. It will help you save Papa.”

  His eyes narrowed, and Liz had to wonder to what Sabrina was referring.

  “Are you sure she sent it to me? I wasn’t born when she was entombed.”

  “I see it in my head. She was talking to Nathanial.”

  “Nathanial?” He scratched his head and gave her a considering look. “The only ‘Nathanial’ I know was our great-grandfather, who lived at Rēafere’s Fortress.”

  “No, sir. It was you.” Sabrina spread her arms, offering one hand to Alastair and one to Liz. “Watch.”

  A vision of what Liz assumed was the past took over her mind.

  A black-haired woman with obsidian eyes fisted her hair at her temples and viciously tugged at her scalp. She shook her head and muttered, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

  As suddenly as she’d been swept into her episode, she stopped and looked at the writing desk a few feet away. A snap of her fingers started the writing tools moving, and the pen worked furiously over the paper, ending with a swish and a dot, then dropping onto the wooden surface.

  “Deliver yourself to Alastair Thorne,” she said aloud.

  The parchment rolled itself into a tight ball and disappeared in a light puff of dark smoke.

  The next scene flashed to her speaking with a young man with an uncanny likeness to Alastair. The challenge between the two was unmistakable, altered only by a young black-haired boy, who flung himself into the Alastair lookalike’s arms.

  A sharp pain followed on the heels of the vision Sabrina had gifted them with. Liz, much like the black-haired woman, gripped her head in her hands and applied pressure in a misguided attempt to rid herself of the discomfort.

  The instant Sabrina trailed her fingers over Liz’s brow, the pain disappeared as if it had never existed. “I’m sorry, Miss Liz,” she whispered tearfully. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t know, sweetheart. Keep in mind for the future; your level of magic can have a powerful effect all on its own.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  “I know you will. You’re a clever girl.” Liz faced Alastair and noted the contemplative expression he wore. “Who do you suppose got the parchment, cousin? Unless I’m completely ignorant of our family history, you weren’t born yet.”

  “I wasn’t, but Nathanial Alastair Thorne was. We’re almost identical in looks. Isolde may have confused the two of us in her mental state.”

  “Our great-grandfather, of course!” She snorted. “And almost identical? You were his damned twin.”

  “I need to go to Rēafere’s Fortress to see what I can discover, but I can’t leave you here alone without protection for you or the girl.”

  “Sabrina, where do we need to help your Papa? Here, or can it be anywhere?”

  She pulled away from Liz and rested her cheek over her father’s heart.

  “I think she’s going into shock,” Alastair said in a low tone so only Liz would hear.

  “I don’t know where we are, but I can take a picture of this place and send it to Nash or Knox. They can be here instantly.”

  “I doubt your cell phone would work here, child. I suspect this temple, like the clearings at my place and Thorne Manor, will block the signal. It’s the strong energy.”

  “Then go and hurry back. Between Sabrina’s abilities and mine, I challenge anyone to fuck with us.”

  “No one would dare, if they saw the fierceness of your expression, Elizabeth,” he assured her. His tone was dry as dirt, but wry humor lurked in the quirk of his lips. Alastair helped her to her feet and led her out of range of Sabrina’s hearing. “If you have to leave Damian to his fate, do so to protect her. I’ve known him my entire life, and I can assure you, he’d want her taken to safety.”

  “Understood. Hopefully, Rafe will be back soon. Now get going.”

  Chapter 25

  “Me?” Rafe managed to choke out.

  “Oh, yes. Elizabeth Thorne was always irresistible to you, wasn’t she? It only took a little blood magic to make you my tool, just like Franco.”

  He turned horror-filled eyes toward Marguerite, and she returned his stare with a shocked look of her own.

  “How?” he barked when his power of speech returned.

  “Your blood and mine are the same, Raphael, or did you forge
t?” She shrugged, and her smile grew crafty. “As for Elizabeth, Franco arranged to have a wineglass break in her hand one evening during dinner. He helped her clean up the wound and brought me my prize.”

  Rafe stared at his mother like he’d never seen her before, and perhaps he hadn’t. Yes, she’d always been reserved while he was growing up, sometimes harsh in her criticism of him, but never in his wildest dream had he ever imagined she could be so cold-blooded and evil.

  “You knew I loved her, and you put a spell on me to destroy her and her family? Your own son?”

  “You were a sniveling baby from the beginning. Nothing much has changed.”

  His brain refused to catch up with the present. All his memories of the past rearranged themselves to show his mother in a worse light. The stones around him shook again.

  “Rafe? Cousin? You need to calm down.”

  His gaze collided with Marguerite. “What?”

  “You’re going to bury us alive with your emotions,” she stated slowly and softly, as if talking to a wild beast.

  He glanced up as more dust fell down upon their heads.

  Goddess! She was right. He was an earth elemental, and his strong reactions were causing the stones to shift. Until now, he’d believed it was the magic his mother was performing—and maybe it initially was—but the current rumbling was caused by him and his feelings of disbelief, betrayal, and rage. Essentially, Marguerite was saying, “calm the fuck down, or you’ll trigger an earthquake to kill us all.”

  Rafe sucked in a deep, cleansing breath.

  Finally, a few key incidents clicked into place. “Just so we’re clear here. You used blood magic against Liz and me. The moment she agreed to have dinner with me, this whole spell went into effect.” He began to pace as he spoke his suspicions aloud. “When that happened, the Thornes lost their magic.”

  “Yes. She was never going to resist you for long. A Thorne only loves once. Using her own magic against her was a simple matter.”

  He suspected as much. A Champeau wasn’t strong enough on their own to drain a Thorne. But using Liz’s magic to drain her own powers was exceedingly clever on Rafe’s mother’s part. “You already knew, other than another Thorne, the Aether was the only one who could remove their abilities without black magic and that the Thornes would immediately turn to him to accuse him or beg for his help. Either way, you were golden.”

  “Maybe you aren’t as brainless as I believed.”

  He ignored his mother’s jibe and continued. “The attacks on his daughter were designed by you. Because she is a Thorne, too, you could use blood magic to target her even knowing you’d never be able to actually hurt her.” He paused, piecing the rest together.

  Frowning, he glanced back the way he’d come. Then the reasoning became clear. “Of course,” he muttered. “By attacking Sabrina and riling Damian, you were assured he would retaliate. You already knew we’d found out about Franco.”

  Rafe shook his head at her cunning. “That poor bastard never stood a chance. What did you do, bind him to the temple so he couldn’t move when Dethridge came to call?”

  Her self-congratulatory smirk told him she had.

  “I almost feel sorry for him.”

  “Don’t you dare!” She shook her head and forced out a long breath. In a calmer, cooler voice, she said, “He got what he deserved. He defiled our family name with his underhanded practices. My idiot brother believed Franco had a keen mind for business. Pierre left him in charge of our estate, which the imbecile ran into the ground.” She shook in her rage. “The bank foreclosed on the château this morning.” Angry tears flooded her eyes. “I didn’t even know he’d taken out a second mortgage on the place. I thought the land was the one thing Franco couldn’t touch. Yes, the finances, but I foolishly believed my home was secure.”

  Rafe looked at Marguerite and nearly smacked himself on the head. “It’s why you called me this morning. You thought I could step in to save the estate.”

  “Yes.” She gestured to the temple around them. “I didn’t know about any of the rest of this, and I only recently discovered Franco had ruined us. I thought perhaps you could calm Aunt Josephine and figure a way for us to save our home.”

  He sighed heavily. “Mother, why didn’t you simply call me. I get you detest me, but you know I would’ve stopped Franco.”

  “Men have always ruled my life. First my father, my brother, then your father, finally Franco. I’m more intelligent than all of you combined.”

  “Not so much if you believed attacking a powerful family, antagonizing the Aether, and bringing the Enchantress back from the grave was a brilliant idea.” His voice rose with each word until he was shouting. The echo of his voice was painful on his eardrums. Rafe didn’t care. “Damian killing Franco triggered some type of chain reaction, didn’t it? How do we reverse it?”

  “You don’t.” Josephine laughed with evil glee. “You can’t. This is Isolde’s temple, Raphael. She brought her victims here to drain their power and feed her own.”

  “Is that what you are attempting? To feed your own with Franco’s?”

  “How ignorant you are! Not Franco’s and not my own.”

  “The Aether!” Marguerite and Rafe gasped out in unison.

  He’d heard enough. His instinct was screaming at him to finish this and find Liz.

  “I can’t leave you loose to create more havoc, Mother. Come with me now, and we’ll figure this mess out. Perhaps we can find a way to hide you from Damian.” Why he wanted to protect her was a question of his sanity. He’d be putting a target on his own back. All for a woman who hated him and everything he represented.

  “Damian?” She scoffed. “Damian Dethridge is dead, boy. Didn’t you see the stones light? That was the last of his life force. It’s directly connected to his power. Remove the magic, kill the man.”

  The blood drained from Rafe’s face, and he felt positively lightheaded. “Mother, the Aether is for balance. Without him, the magical world will be chaos. He’s who the Witches’ Council turns to when all else fails.”

  “Now, they’ll turn to me.”

  “No, they won’t. You’ll be dead because, if you’ve succeeded in raising Isolde, she won’t honor a pact between you. She’s a monster and will bleed your magic dry.”

  Finally, some of what he was trying to impress upon her must’ve sunk in. She paled slightly and looked at Marguerite, who nodded her agreement with Rafe’s assessment. Panic and an emotion remarkably similar to fear flashed upon her aristocratic features and vanished just as quickly. Josephine Champeau was old-school. She believed in herself, her family name, and her ability to beat the rest of the world into submission. Lifting the paper, she opened her mouth to finish the resurrection spell.

  Rafe dove for her.

  The blast of a gunshot reverberated off the stones with a deafening effect. He ducked, but not before witnessing his mother’s blank-faced stare of death as she crumpled to the ground. Marguerite didn’t miss. The smoking gun, proof of her crime. Although, when he had longer to process what just happened, he would most likely conclude she’d done mankind a favor and not murder.

  “I’m sorry, Rafe,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

  The ground around them shifted and shook.

  “You have to get out of here, cousin,” he warned.

  “Come with me to safety,” she urged.

  “I can’t.” He staggered to his feet and balanced a hand on the vibrating wall. “I have to get to the Thornes. To Liz. But you should go.” A large chunk of the ceiling crashed beside her, and Marguerite jumped in fear. “Go. Now.”

  “Not without you. Let’s find your lover and get the hell out of here.”

  In silent agreement, they ran down the temple corridor to where Rafe had last seen Liz. When he found her, she was slowly twisting this way and that as if to keep an eye on all the passageways. Little Sabrina rested with her eyes closed and her head on her father’s still chest. A heartbreaking sight. Not to ment
ion terrifying, with the illuminated pillars behind them.

  “Qalbi, we need to leave. Right now. This temple is coming down.”

  “We can’t. Sabrina needs the spell Isolde wrote to reverse this.” The dawning panic in her eyes tore at his insides.

  “It’s too late for him,” he said, regret heavy in his words and heart.

  “You and Marguerite go. I can’t leave her, and she won’t leave him.”

  Then he understood. Even if she wanted to, Liz wasn’t going to try to remove a baby Aether from her father. The kid had enough juice to fry anyone who tried. Yet, as kind and caring as she was, Liz wouldn’t leave her alone to die. Fear danced along his spine and tickled his nerve endings.

  “All right. Then you and I wait with her.”

  “No, Rafe. You need to go.” She rubbed the left side of her chest. The tears in her eyes spoke of the emotional toll this was taking on her. The idea of them parted forever was hurting her, and one he didn’t wish to entertain.

  “That’s not going to happen, qalbi. Where you go, I go. If this is our final resting place, then so be it.” Where his bravery came from, he didn’t know. Because had it been anyone else, he’d have cursed them for a fool. But he couldn’t leave her, and he didn’t want to live without the one person who made him feel whole.

  “Can the three of us shore up the walls, until Alastair returns?” Marguerite asked, dodging another section of falling stone and crowding closer to Rafe in her nervousness.

  “We can certainly try,” Liz said feelingly. “Uh, anyone have any clue how?”

  As suddenly as the rolling earthquake started, it stopped. Silence reigned and left a ringing in Rafe’s ears. He dropped his gaze to the child. She stared back at him with eerily calm eyes.

  Liz squatted beside her and touched her shoulder. “Was that you, sweetheart?”

  A single nod was her answer.