Strange Brew

by Angela Colsin

  His tone wasn't accusatory, but did possess some notable anger, enough to make her retort, “No, I'm not giving him a pass, Troy.” Motioning at him, she asked, “What's the big deal, anyway? I know you don't like him, but you looked like you were figuring out the quickest way to snap him in half.”

  “That's because I was,” Troy confessed shamelessly. “What kind of man leaves his only child behind to help some woman he knew in a past life?”

  She groaned, having asked herself the same thing before they'd even left the dining room. It was another reason for her quick departure—the thought had angered her, and she wanted to prevent an outburst when it was still hard to tell whether her ire was legitimate, or if her transition was fueling it.

  But there were just too many questions that needed answers already, and Aislinn didn't have the energy to start working on yet another puzzle. So right or wrong, she wanted to believe Derick, and was actually glad his explanation was unique instead of some lousy I was unhappy excuse.

  She'd never like it, or agree with his decision to leave. But letting go was easier than holding a grudge.

  “I don't know what kind of man he is, Troy,” she started, “but if I'm honest, I feel better now that I have some closure. I haven't forgiven him, I just wouldn't mind the chance to know more about him if it's possible.”

  Hearing this, Troy's expression finally softened. “Fair enough,” he conceded, “but I'm not gonna ignore the way I feel, and I don't trust him.”

  Aislinn could understand—she didn't trust him either. But things would be so much simpler if they could at least pretend to get along, prompting her to mutter, “Can't you just act like you do? You and I aren't exactly joined at the hip anymore, and Annika's bringing those records soon. So we can take care of business, meaning my father won't need to be here much longer.”

  Though her point was valid, Troy scowled again, taking exception to her phrasing. “Joined at the hip? Is that how you see it?”

  Realizing she hadn't chosen her words very eloquently, Aislinn groaned. “It's just a figure of speech, Troy, I don't mean it literally.”

  “Then how did you mean it?”

  “It's called sarcasm,” she snapped, growing irritated with his harsh questions. Bad choice of words or not, he was reacting more angrily than she thought the situation warranted. “Why are you so testy all of a sudden?”

  Irritated, Troy began pacing near the foot of the bed, growling in a threatening manner that would've sent a weaker person running for the hills. “I didn't want this for you,” he explained. “I know you don't hold your marking against me, but I hold it against myself, and I will until those bitches pay for what they did to you, to us.”

  Undaunted by his vehement explanation, Aislinn countered, “Well don't take it out on me!”

  Coming to a sudden stop, he locked his gaze on her and retorted harshly, “I'm sorry!”

  Silence punctuated his words, creating a tension that was almost palpable as they stared at each other sternly. But it didn't last long before Aislinn slowly smiled, then snorted with laughter.

  “What?” Troy asked, obviously confused by her reaction, and she snickered harder, putting a small smile on his face. “What's so funny?”

  “I just … ,” she trailed, trying to figure out how to explain. “If I didn't know you, I'd be afraid of the way you're growling and yelling. But I didn't flinch once.” Smiling triumphantly, she summarized, “Hate to break it to you, but you don't scare me, Troy Ashland.”

  Aislinn couldn't stop grinning now, humored by her fearlessness in the face of such a large and potentially violent man. But after he'd explained his remorse over the conditions of her marking, she understood his need to vent, knowing in her heart that he'd never hurt her, and wasn't even capable of lifting a finger to try.

  The past few days with him had been incredibly eye opening to such things. Troy only seemed to be happy when he was treating her like a queen and offering support. For someone who'd spent most of their life endeavoring to be independent and handling complicated matters alone, having such companionship was both strange and wonderful.

  It also made Aislinn realize just how lonely she'd become. Consistently pushing people away and fearing to trust another with her heart had affected her more than she'd thought. She'd needed someone like Troy to share with, craving his company even before her transition—she'd just never let herself admit it because of her temporary abstinence.

  The thoughts reminded her of the benefit she'd intuitively sensed would be gained from attempting The Trine's initiation, an intuition she now understood. Meeting Troy saved her from a fate of growing old alone, and even becoming too bitter to love. He was her mate, her familiar—and he'd stolen her heart.

  The only problem was that she didn't know how to say so.

  Sure, it was only three little words, but Aislinn had never put them together before with anyone but her family. Also, her love for Troy felt too strong for just those three words to handle, and she wanted her confession to be meaningful, but the more she thought about it, the less she felt capable of conveying such emotion.

  Not that he gave her the time to try, smirking at her boast of courage before asking playfully, “Not at all?”

  “Nope,” she grinned.

  Slowly, he stepped toward her. “Not even a little?”

  At his teasing, Aislinn feigned a thoughtful expression, then retorted, “Nu huh.”

  “That so?” he went on, quickly grabbing her to lift onto the bed.

  She shrieked with laughter, coming to rest on the mattress as he climbed over her.

  “Still not afraid,” she returned. “But aroused? That I'm starting to experience.”

  Grinning, Troy leaned in for a kiss, but she quickly braced her hands against his chest and pushed, stating, “Not so fast. I wanna know if you're gonna keep treating Derick like an asshole.”

  “I don't treat people any differently than how I feel about them,” he muttered. “Takes too much effort for someone who's not worth it.”

  “As much as I agree, fighting isn't worth it, either. So can you at least promise to stay away from him?”

  “Not a chance. Something's not right, and after everything that's happened to you already, I'm keeping my eyes open.”

  The comment made her grumble, unable to disagree even though she didn't want things to get more complicated than they already were. So Aislinn compromised. “Could you at least not give him threatening looks?”

  Troy considered it, then nodded. “Just to make you happy, sure.”

  Smiling over his agreement, she leaned up for the kiss he'd wanted to give her—and just before their lips met, a knock came to the door.

  “Aislinn? You in there? I've got the records from Eliard.”

  Hearing Annika's voice, Aislinn's head fell back against the mattress just as Troy's drooped forward in disappointment. Still, a mischievous grin graced her lips, and she whispered, “Don't move, just watch how embarrassed Annika gets when she sees us.”

  Troy looked intrigued, nodding before she called out, “Come in, Annika.”

  “Not until Troy gets off you.”

  “Damn it,” Aislinn muttered, hating how difficult it could be to trick her psychic cousin.

  In response, Troy laughed, rolling away. “Okay, we're decent.”

  Finally, the door opened, and Annika stepped inside, clutching the strap of a laptop bag slung over her shoulder as she sent a stern look at Aislinn. “Why do you always try to embarrass me?”

  “I guess I'm Miranda's daughter after all,” she returned with a grin, sitting up. “It's not like we're naked though, so you should thank me for going easy on you.”

  Annika sighed, muttering, “I suppose I'll just keep these records to myself then.”

  “Oh no you don't,” Aislinn returned, standing from the bed. “Get in here.”

  Smirking, her cousin shut the door and walked toward them, pulling the laptop bag from her shoulder to hand over. “The cur
ator compiled all the data she could find and transferred it to a website for you to download. I sent you an email with the URL and password.”

  Placing the laptop on the bed, Aislinn asked, “Did she say anything interesting?”

  “Yeah, I asked about the coven's sacrificial practices, and she said they don't perform them. So I think Cindy and Lisa were telling the truth and The Trine wasn't involved in your attack.”

  “I hope so,” Aislinn remarked. “Two witches are a lot easier to deal with than an entire coven. I'll just have to go through the records myself to make sure, but that can wait. I still want you to look at this mark on my back.”

  Nodding, Annika directed her to turn around, then lifted her shirt up. Troy pointed out the sigil for her, and immediately, the psychic exclaimed, “Whoa, that's really weird.”

  “Obviously,” Aislinn muttered. “But do you sense anything about it in specific? Ever since my transition started, my intuition's been quiet, so I've got no clues.”

  Her cousin didn't respond, kneeling to inspect the sigil more closely, and slowly traced her fingertips over it as if the contact would help. Aislinn remained quiet in the process to give her time to focus, glancing over her shoulder in wait of a verdict.

  Troy was just as silent in his eagerness for an answer, and it wasn't long before they got one.

  Suddenly, Annika gasped, jerking her hand away with a deep breath. As she stumbled back, Aislinn quickly turned and knelt down to clasp her shoulders, steadying her while asking, “What is it? What's wrong?”

  “I … ,” she trailed, her left hand flying to her temple as if she'd grown dizzy. “I'm seeing a lot of weird images, like a hazy room, and a spectral woman.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her face snapped up as she exclaimed, “Oh goddess. Aislinn, you died when Troy marked you, meaning your soul was in Limbo for a short time. I think you had an encounter there.”

  Aislinn stared, too dumbfounded by the suggestion to know what to say. Thankfully, Troy was more articulate, though not at all eloquent in asking, “You mean a fucking ghost left that shit on her?”

  “Yes,” Annika nodded. “I know it sounds crazy, but—”

  “No,” Aislinn interrupted, her countenance grim as she helped her cousin to stand again. “It's perfectly reasonable.”

  “How so?” Troy inquired.

  Looking between the two of them, she explained, “The day I was attacked, a spirit reached into this plane and choked me so I'd have no way to defend myself from Cindy and Lisa's hex.”

  Troy's eyes burned with anger over the explanation while Annika asked, “Why didn't you say anything before?”

  “I've been so focused on why they attacked me, and not how they accomplished it that it slipped my mind. But you're right, for a short time my soul would've gone into Limbo, and … maybe what you're describing is what I saw there. I just can't consciously recall it.”

  Despite the lack of memory over the event, her cousin's discovery erased all doubt in Aislinn's mind about the origin of the strange sigil, and Annika's perturbed expression mirrored her feelings as she suggested, “Then your very soul was marked before you came back, meaning the only way to remove it is with magic, and who knows what that sigil's meant to do.”

  Aislinn almost shuddered when the mere prospect was extremely unsettling. Because a sigil's purpose depended on its creator, there were unlimited possibilities of what the one on her back might mean, making it impossible to guess. Though, if they were lucky, Eliard's records would contain documentation of the same mark and its function.

  But that was only a secondary concern in comparison to finding a way to remove the damned thing.

  Aislinn started pacing, wracking her brain for a way to counter such a mark. “I don't know any specific spells off the top of my head, but one for purification should work. I just need to look it up in my books.”

  Annika nodded in agreement, then snapped her fingers, “Oh, your dad's here, and he's a medium, right? Maybe he can get in touch with this spirit and find out more.”

  Though the idea held merit, Aislinn didn't yet trust Derick well enough to share everything going on in her personal life—not that she wasn't desperate enough to consider it. If he could glean any answers, it would be worthwhile to ask.

  Wanting Troy's opinion, she looked to see him glowering over Annika's suggestion. The expression caused her to exhale lowly before asking as if it weren't already obvious, “We can't trust him, can we?”

  Thinking he'd say no, Troy unexpectedly replied, “It's your choice, darlin'. We can't trust him, but I want that thing off you asap. So I say stick to your own magic first, then try something else if it doesn't work.”

  The response was simple enough, but Aislinn's heart swelled with emotion. His reasoning reminded her of the many times she'd told others not to trust just anyone in mystical affairs, proving he was her familiar with good reason—and his willingness to compromise as her partner had her leaning up to offer a quick, grateful kiss.

  Troy seemed pleased, but confused, asking once their lips broke contact, “What was that for?”

  “I'm just glad you're my mate,” Aislinn returned vaguely, a coy smirk on her face that widened when his chin proudly jutted as if she'd given the highest praise.

  “You guys are adorable,” Annika qualified. “A little on the mushy side, but still adorable.”

  “Mushy?” Aislinn scoffed. “You should see our bedroom athletics. It's pretty impressive and—”

  “Aislinn!” she exclaimed, her cheeks reddening.

  Grinning, Aislinn asked Troy, “See? She's so cute when she's beet red.”

  “You really are Miranda's daughter,” her cousin muttered, turning to leave. “Guess that means I need to get the books.”

  “Wait,” Troy interjected, and when Annika stopped to look back, he stated, “I'll go find Adriana. It's daylight, and she can save time by teleporting us to Strange Brew.”

  Aislinn had forgotten about that ability, and it would definitely come in handy. But there was too much on her mind to show the same enthusiasm as Annika, who excitedly remarked, “Oh, that sounds like fun.”

  In response, Aislinn asked solemnly, “Annika, could you go find her instead? I need to speak with Troy.”

  Seeing her serious demeanor, Annika agreed. “Sure. I'll be back in a minute.”

  She didn't hurry out, probably to offer them some time, and once the door shut behind her, Aislinn faced Troy.

  “You okay?” he inquired.

  Frowning, she shook her head. “I think Cindy and Lisa wanted this to happen, and the more I try to figure out why, the more worried I get.”

  He didn't look very comfortable either, reaching to pull her into a gentle embrace. “Have you got any remote ideas?”

  “No,” she sighed dejectedly. “The sigil could be a type of curse, or even offer some random ability like breathing under water. I haven't noticed anything strange, but it might also be time sensitive. So the important thing is just getting rid of it.”

  He nodded, though a hint of worry was evident in his gaze. “How hard do you think it'll be?”

  “I don't know. I'm immortal now, so my magic should be more potent, but my spells might not be up to par.”

  Aislinn felt sick inside, not to mention angry, and rested her head against Troy's chest, unable to stop a few tears from shedding. She needed the comfort of his arms around her, shivering when he kissed her temple and whispered, “I love you, Aislinn, and I swear I'm gonna do whatever it takes to fix this shit.”

  She knew he wasn't just offering comfort, and hugged him more tightly for it. Yet, as determined as Troy was—as they both were—one simple truth was glaring her in the face.

  Things weren't going to be that simple.

  Chapter 31

  It didn't take long to gather the needed supplies for removing the sigil, but the actual endeavor lasted all day and into the late evening.

  While Aislinn convened to the indoor
garden with Annika and Adriana to work their spells, Troy volunteered to go through the records on The Trine. Research wasn't precisely a werewolf's forte, but he was determined, and with Bryant's assistance, they trudged through the various pages documenting the coven's observances, practices, and symbolism in the hopes of gleaning something useful.

  But in the end, all they had to show for their effort were several pointless facts. Nothing seemed pertinent to their situation, and there wasn't a single bit of content on the sigil or its meaning.

  Still, that wouldn't matter if they could get rid of it, and Troy finally joined his witch downstairs an hour after sundown, hoping she'd had more success. He found her sitting between a group of witches including Annika, Heather, Andi, and Adriana, and all of them were chanting in Latin amidst burning candles and incense.

  The contents of a nearby cauldron sent a sharp, clean aroma through the air, and Alec was watching the scene not too far from the door. He quietly explained to Troy that they'd tried three different spells so far, none of which had worked, and were now performing the last one available.

  Indeed, Troy could sense the magic in the air—but again, they were unsuccessful, and the sigil stubbornly remained on Aislinn's back.

  She was so frustrated by the outcome that he was reluctant to tell her the records hadn't turned up anything concrete either. Yet the news only seemed to feed Aislinn's determination as she insisted on looking through her books again for more options despite her obvious fatigue.

  Troy had to coax her into calling it a night by reminding her that rest would offer a fresh perspective before she finally relented.

  In the meantime, he directed Bryant and Adriana to escort Annika home and stay there with her in case something came up, then instructed the twins to keep an eye on Derick before taking Aislinn to bed.

  It was a still night in comparison to the commotion of the day, and though his mate fell asleep quickly, Troy laid awake for several hours, holding her close, protectively. He simply couldn't shake a growing sense that something was coming—and even had the strange feeling of being watched. It was unnerving, keeping him alert for quite a while before unwittingly drifting off in the middle of the night.