by Brynna Curry
EARTH ENCHANTED
Elemental Magic, Book One
By Brynna Curry
LYRICAL PRESS
http://lyricalpress.com/
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/
For my husband, Jackie, you are the hope, life, heart and soul that lights my world, my inspiration and my dream, the love and the magic. Your faith in me gives my heart wings. Then, now, ever and always, I love you.
Acknowledgements
My thanks to my mother, Dianne, for listening to my ramblings and believing. My husband, Jackie, for having enough faith in me to invest his time and thoughts and for putting up with me all these years. Thank you L.J., Anna, and Kayla for being my bright shining stars, I love you all more than mere words can say.
Frank and Renee Rocco thank you for giving Jack and Liv a home. My editor, Piper, girl you rock! And everyone at LPI. So many people had a hand in creating this book it’s impossible to list them all here. You’re awesome, thank you!
Foreword
When choosing the setting of Earth Enchanted, I decided to go with the old adage ‘write what you know’. Jack’s hometown is fictional and modeled after Haleyville, AL. Haleyville is a small city whose only claim to fame is the very first 911 call was made here in city hall on a red telephone that always reminds me of the old Batman phone. Every year the city holds a heritage day where we celebrate the system and the men and women who save so many lives every day. The movie theatre, library and entire mall area actually exist here as they are described. I enjoyed sharing a little of my hometown with you.
You may already know the Hope and Marie Louise’s necklace stolen in the story are actual gems kept safe at the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C., the Regent is held in the Louvre in Paris, France. What you may not know is before resting in Napoleon’s sword, the Regent changed hands several times. The origin of the diamond is sure, but the method of procuring is not. Originally owned by one of my Pitt ancestors our historian claims it was purchased and then sold to the Crown of France, yet another states it was stolen from the diamond mines in Africa. Either way, this is why it is often referred to as the Pitt Diamond.
Author’s Note
Thank you for taking this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed Jack and Liv’s story. Look for To Take Up the Sword, the next installment in the Elemental Magic Series. Love is the truest magic. If you’re lucky enough to find it, hold on with everything you have.
Chapter 1
Jack’s Past
Jack dreamt and screamed in silent warning. Terror tore through him. Like a scene in a movie unfolding, he could do nothing but watch in agony. His hands ached to touch and hold her one more time. Lips craved one last taste of what would never be again. In his dreams, she was still alive and vibrant. He watched the candlelight bounce off her hair. Saw the lusty light come to her eyes when she watched his dream counterpart. Jack wished for her even now. If wishes were pennies…
Candlelight flickered in the dim room. Music, something soft with a lot of strings, played quietly in the background. Jack wasn’t sure what the piece was called, but his ears told him it was beautiful. White tablecloths adorned the small round tables while wine shimmered in the elegant crystal flutes. Nothing could have been more perfect.
The restaurant was peppered with couples, lost somewhere in their own murmured conversations or each other. Staff became ghosts slipping unnoticed through the crowd as they went about their duties. The woman who sat across from him was many things: childhood friend, comforter, partner, lover and wife.
Jack had known Serena nearly all his life. Her family emigrated from Ireland when she was five, but the lilt that came from her homeland had never left her voice. Both she and Jack had wanted to be in law enforcement for as long as either could remember. It had been a rough road, but they had made it together.
Their first anniversary dinner, a special time for any couple, was only a sidestep for them tonight. Both were dutifully married to the job first. Serena had been discussing the case they were working on, but he had tuned out the words and was just listening. Too blinded to see how distracted she was. Would he have had a vision of her death that night if he’d been paying attention? The rise and fall of Serena’s voice became a spellbinding music leaving him breathless and entranced.
Two separate cellphones rang, interrupting the nice little lull his mind had gone into. They grinned at the “Miami Vice” themes that played badly through the gadgets. He answered, “Roarke,” softly into the small phone. She frowned at the ID and shut hers off.
“Mickey.” Their informant wanted another meet. Like magic, the lovers were gone and they were cops again.
* * * *
Jack noted Serena kept quiet for most of the drive, barely speaking at all. Uneasy ever since his informant’s call had come, he grew tense as they got closer to the building and he parked the car along the sidewalk. Though she had a ‘no flirting during working hours’ rule, he dragged her across the seat and kissed her hard.
“Jack? What was that for?”
“Nothing. Everything. I love you, Sissy.”
She brushed a curl of hair from his forehead. He never did manage to remember to get it cut. She smiled. “Let’s get this over with.” That being said, she checked her gun in its holster and got out of the car.
The alley ran behind one of the rattraps that they’d raided for drugs a couple of weeks ago. No light reached here in the bowels of the city. The air was thick with the stench of garbage, smoke, and prostitution for those lovely people who didn’t care enough to rent a room.
Summer heat in northern Alabama, the thermometer had been bursting at 103 degrees by noon, made the smell walk like a living thing. Sissy passed her penlight beam over the building’s brick wall. Graffiti announced the sort of things one human being could do to another. ‘Mickey,’ Jack’s informant, always showed on the signal, but not this time. He had a gut feeling to grab his wife, turn and run as hard and fast as he could. The premonition flashed through him dark and heavy.
Copper, the raw taste of fear, slid over his tongue. Both drew, half expecting to find the informant dead, definitely to find trouble. Neck deep in a suspected smuggling ring, they’d had their share of scrapes lately.
Jack screamed at her and his dream self, though he knew she couldn’t hear him.
“Run, baby, please.”
Why? Why do I have to watch over and over again? His heart and soul cried out from the wrenching pain. Please, God, have mercy! Just let me die with her this time.
He finally felt the prickles of warning on the back of his neck. The nauseating pain spread from the base of his skull to his temples and lastly in front of his eyes. Finally able to see the threat, Jack knew, the vision came far too late. Someone was watching them, unseen from high atop the neighboring building.
“Get out, Sissy!” Jack screamed. “It’s a trap! Run!” He fired two shots in the direction of his unknown attacker.
Three shots pealed through the dark. Two pinged off the brick. She turned toward his shouted warning and barely had time to call out before the third slammed into her chest. Dazed, she clutched her breast.
Jack returned the fire instinctively, getting off another six rounds, before the gun dropped from his hand. A dark stain spread across her white silk dinner blouse. He caught her as she cried out and crumpled to the ground. He pressed his hand over hers, a futile attempt to staunch the wound.
All that blood, so much gushing out of the hole in her heart. Oh, God!
It pulsed and dripped across her hand where his ring rested on her slim finger. An hour ago, it had seemed they had a lifetime to live, love, but now they might have minutes only. Maybe not even that long. He’d seen m
en die, had killed before, but nothing compared to watching the woman he loved bleed to death in his arms. There wasn’t anything he could do.
“Help us! Somebody!” He rocked her back and forth gently, and dug his cellphone out of his pocket. The alley fell silent. Her attacker had accomplished his mission.
Another vision came, along with a sickening sense of loss. She would be gone before help would come. Helpless, Jack fought back the drowning tears and grief he already felt, and lied to her. “It’s going to be all right, Sissy, just hold on to me.” He stroked her hair, kissed her cheek. She shuddered in his arms as though she’d never be warm again. He dialed 9-1-1. “Detective Jackson Roarke. I need a bus at…” He rattled off the address. “Officer down, I repeat officer down. Bullet wound to the chest. Hurry, damn it!”
“Don’t lie to me. I’m as good…as dead. You see it.” Her breath hitched as blood gurgled from her throat and stained her lips.
“Catch them for me, Jack. Promise me.” She clutched his shirt, pleading.
“I will, but you’ll help me. You’ll be there to help me.”
She nodded.
He looked back toward the gaping mouth of the alley. Where were the medics? He couldn’t panic, couldn’t afford to let his mind go frantic. Maybe he was wrong and what he saw wouldn’t come to pass. When he was about to give up all hope, the screaming sirens ripped the night air. Help was here. His vision had to be wrong, born of panic instead of the gift. Serena must live.
“Almost here.” She was so cold. How could she be so cold already?
“I love…Jack…tell…Sorry.”
“Don’t say it, not now.”
“Live.” She whispered, “Just live.”
He felt Serena’s spirit leave her body before fingers left a trail of blood to mix with his tears. Her bright green eyes lost their spark, faded and then saw nothing. His vision had happened. Serena Roarke was dead.
He shook her, rocked her, begged and pleaded. He cursed God and the devil, but she was beyond him now. Jack looked down to the bright red covering the concrete, her and him. Never again, he thought. Even though he wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. He tossed his shield on the ground, where their weapons lay in her pooling blood. Cradling his dead wife in his arms, Jack curled into a ball, rocked her lifeless body, and sobbed inconsolably.
Cap had pried her out of his arms, cried with him. Jack wanted to go home. Yet he hadn’t wanted to face that huge house alone. In the end, he’d forced himself to turn the key in the lock.
He tossed the house keys into a bowl by the door, out of habit, but headed toward the bedroom. It wasn’t right. He should have been carrying her up the wide staircase to their room, not having to face it alone, covered in her blood. Pushing the door open, he let the quiet and the scents flow into him, along with the memories. They were all he could have now. Clothes were strewn about where they had rushed to change for dinner.
Had to rush, he remembered with a ghost of a smile, because they had taken advantage of the afternoon off by spending it in bed. He wished they had stayed there. She would still be with him.
Someone screamed in the night. Jack woke with a start and realized with more than a little embarrassment it was him. The nightmare he’d had since his wife had died. He was always on the outside watching, but able to do nothing to stop what he knew would happen. The worst form of torture he could imagine. Living through the anguish and horror of her death over and over again, and always, always waking up with the memory of her blood on his hands. Her death was on him. Why hadn’t he been able to see in time to stop it? He turned into the empty pillow next to his, and did something he’d never let another soul know. He squeezed the pillow tight to his chest much as a child does a beloved teddy bear, and cried.
This had to stop or he would go crazy. A part of him knew that, yet another wallowed in the pain. She was everywhere and nowhere at all. Her death haunted him.
Shaking the memories out of his head, he got out of bed and padded across the hardwood floor into the adjoining bath. Flipping the switch, he turned the faucet on full cold. Taking a deep breath, he dunked his head under the stream of water. He came up dripping, cursing, and wide awake, but the dream was still there. So was she, but it wasn’t a comfort. He studied his reflection in the mirror, and wondered how that stranger’s face could be his own. His wavy jet-black hair dripped and hung over eyes the color of melted chocolate. The face had thinned from his acquired habit of eating only if he felt like it or happened to remember. His dusky skin tone had paled as much as his genes would allow it. He felt hollow, and it showed. The strong chin and slashing cheekbones from some warrior ancestor long since dead didn’t lessen the effect.
It had been a year since she had died and taken half of him with her. Jack knew he was grieving himself to death, literally, but couldn’t find the want to care.
Most men would have turned to the drink, but he’d never had the stomach for it. He’d seen firsthand what it could and would do to a man, given time.
Jack thought back to when Cap had called him into his office. He hadn’t wanted to go to the station, but it had to be done.
Somebody had taken pity on him and packed all Serena’s office things for him. Probably Officer Bradstreet, a grandmotherly-looking woman who was known for her cookies and kind ear. Knowing him, she had packed his things as well. God bless her. He’d be eternally grateful to her. As he took a deep breath of relief thinking he had gotten out the door without tearful sympathies or pitying looks, Cap called him into his office.
“Spare a minute, Jack?” he said in an old gruff voice, commanding attention, and at the same time lending comforting strength.
Sam Berringer had been in law enforcement since his early twenties. Being well into his sixties now, he’d earned his title and his share of battle scars. Jack’s dad had been his partner until he retired, when Sam had decided to accept the post of Captain.
Jack huffed out a breath, but went with Cap into his office.
“Have a seat. This won’t take long.” Sam looked down at the box Jack had tucked under his arm, “I can see you’re anxious to be on your way.”
Taking a seat, Jack folded his tall frame into the wooden chair, one of two that graced the office.
“You have leave built up. No one is going to blame you for taking it, not after all that’s happened. It’s true your case load is twice as heavy, without your partner. I can shuffle your other cases to another detective, but the suspected diamond theft ring will be a bit harder to finesse.” Sam let the words hang, and folded up his hands as if in prayer. “But from the looks of that box, I’d say that you weren’t planning on coming back at all.”
“I’m turning in my resignation. I can’t do this anymore. I’m no good to you or anyone else. I can barely stand to be here now. Besides, as soon as someone connects the thefts, the feds will be crawling all over you.”
“Jack, I know what you’re feeling. I’ve been there before, and I don’t have to tell you it’s the worst damn place to be, but you can’t lay the guilt on yourself.”
Couldn’t he? Shouldn’t he? What good were feelings and premonitions if they didn’t come when you could use them? He pushed out of the chair. “Where else can it lay? She was my wife! Above and over all of it, I should have protected her. Nothing was more important than her life. I let the job get in the way, instead of going with my gut and getting us the hell out of there. She’d be here. It’s my fault.” Shouting, cursing, and pacing he dropped back into the chair. “I don’t want your sympathy. Not even yours, Cap.” He whispered it, afraid he would break into tears.
“You want to blame yourself? If it makes you feel better, then fine. You don’t want pity. Then I won’t offer it to you. Though I will give you some advice, wanted or not. Take some time to think about this, before you make up your mind.”
Jack stared solidly through the wall, trying to regain some of the composure and dignity he swore he must have somewhere. “No, I don’t want any par
t of it anymore.”
“If someone had killed my wife, I’d hunt them down like dogs and make them plead for every breath I allowed them to take. You still got a chance to catch him.”
“No, we never did. Trying to collar them is what got her killed.”
“So that’s how it ends, then. They win.” He spun his chair around and faced the wall that should have had a window in it, but budgets didn’t allow for niceties
Jack left his badge on the desk and walked out of the station. He hadn’t been back to that alley.
One year had passed and his world still spun out of control. This was normal? Would his life ever be normal again?
Chapter 2
Liv’s mission
The flight had been pure hell. The view of the Atlantic Ocean was a little piece of heaven. Liv Corrigan tried to tune out the other passengers, and the weather, a first for sure. Her nose was all but buried in the laptop on the pull-out tray. She was lost in a story, one of her own making. The heroine, kick-ass cop Macy Dean, had just walked into the old parish.
The storm was raging. Macy had to get in out of it, or be drowned like a rat. It was the very last place she would have sought sanctuary, if she’d had a choice. What with some psycho running loose murdering young women left and right and in the name of God no less, and he was coming for her.
The church was dark as pitch, and it smelled just as bad. Through the rank, she caught the faintly metallic scent as soon as she crossed the first row of pews. Blood. It was fresh and smelled heavy on the air. Great, she thought sarcastically, just her luck.
Curiosity and her job willed her to go forward, when her mind screamed to run. Macy wasn’t ready to face another dead girl killed in her stead. She walked cautiously and slowly toward the altar, knowing already what she would see there.
