“What is it?” he asked.
“Blood,” Arleigh whispered.
“Holy Christ,” he said. “Okay, if that’s what it takes.”
Ryder placed the cup against his lips and downed it in one giant swallow. Thick liquid slid down his throat. If Fallon hadn’t wanted him to puke, maybe she shouldn’t serve blood at her rituals. He pulled Arleigh closer, and she tucked her head against his chest.
“Bet you’ll miss me,” Ryder said with a wink. The three women smiled.
Chapter 40
He felt like he had downed a bottle of Jack and been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. He had been killed twice in two weeks, and it hadn’t felt this bad. He rubbed his hand across his forehead, wincing at the pain. He tried to sit up, but something pushed on his chest. He reached down and felt a mass of silky hair.
He pushed himself up, and Arleigh came along for the ride. He stretched her across his lap, brushing the hair away from her face. She looked very pale.
“Arleigh, honey,” he said. “Wake up.”
He patted her cheek, and her eyelids fluttered. Tentatively, she opened them, and a small smile touched her lips.
“Are we home?” she asked.
Ryder glanced around the room. The fire in the hearth cast dancing shadows on the wall. The remnant of someone’s dinner lay on the table. The spinning wheel stood in the corner, the small pile of mending at the base of the chair. Lights flickered in the attic stairway. Cowardly little faeries. Why didn’t they come out?
“Where are they?” Arleigh said.
Suddenly, the sharp, shrill cry of little girls pierced the quiet. A familiar pain drilled through Ryder’s head. There was nothing like the scream of little girls to wake you up from the near-dead. A flock of hungry seagulls didn’t sound as bad. The lights in the stairway pulsed rapidly, darting about and casting tiny shadow points onto the floor. Footsteps pounded down the stairs, and the lights swarmed into the room, followed immediately by three little girls dressed in white sleeping gowns. Their hair was disheveled and their faces crinkled with sleep.
At the bottom of the stairs, they crashed into one another as Fiana stopped dead.
“They’re here!” she cried.
All three flew across the room and pounced on Ryder and Arleigh. They tumbled together on the floor, rolling and hugging, kissing and touching each other’s faces. A small pink light swirled around, eager for a peek.
“Addy,” Ryder said. “Come here.”
He lifted his hand above the writhing bodies and offered the small faery a perch. She settled down, her wings fluttering swiftly. She glowed in her pink way and wrapped her hair around his finger.
“Welcome home,” she said.
“Glad to be here,” Ryder said. “You missed me, didn’t you?”
He reached out and tickled her stomach. Adelina laughed and swooped down to brush against Arleigh’s face. Ryder got to his feet, pulling Hannah and Corliss with him. They had their arms wrapped around his waist, and he had no intention of making them let go. He reached for Fiana and froze when he heard footsteps in the attic.
“What the hell?”
He started toward the stairs, but Fiana grabbed his hand.
“It’s Mistress Cullen,” she said. “She’s been here with us.”
Ryder sighed with relief, and when the bantee appeared in the doorway, he went across the room and grabbed her in a hug. He planted a big kiss on her lips.
“Ryder Kendall!” she cried. “What was that for?”
“For everything,” he said. “For saving my life, for watching after the girls, for keeping Arleigh safe. You risked so much for us. You could have been banished to the ether for helping us.”
“Neutrality is often capricious,” Cullen said. “I twist it to my own purpose from time to time. I have been to the ether before. It is not a bad place, Ryder. It is a crossroads between death and life. We have all been there, but it is not meant to be remembered.”
“Where’s Jack?” Ryder asked.
“Jack’s time here is over,” Cullen said. “He watched after this family for a long while waiting for me. He returned to the ether for a rest. The earth wore him out. He wasn’t ugly when he first emerged from the ether.”
Ryder laughed. “But you’ll stay with us? No chance of your being banished to the ether?”
“Do not fear for me,” she said. “I have many friends in both faery and human worlds, as does Arleigh. But I like this world, and I have a soft spot for you, Ryder Kendall. I always have, and I always will.”
Arleigh wrapped her arms around his waist and tucked her head into his back. “The girls want to hear the tale of our adventure. You’re the storyteller in the family. They want a bedtime story.”
Ryder twisted and met her eyes. He could not believe that he finally had everything he wanted. His lips found hers in a soft kiss that promised everything he had to give. Arleigh sighed against him. He winked at her.
“Can’t wait for them to hear how I got my ass kicked?”
Arleigh smiled. “Is that any way for a champion to talk?”
“I have something I need them to do for me first,” Ryder said. “Girls, gather round. I have a job for you.”
Chapter 41
Faith Kendall watched Hope’s fingers trail across the keys and credit cards on the dresser. Faith didn’t like the look on her sister’s face. Hope was starting to unravel.
“I think we should call the police,” Hope said.
Faith leaned against the doorjamb.
“And tell them what?” she asked.
“That our brother vanished, and we don’t know where he is.”
“But we know where he is,” Faith said. “We’ve seen him.”
Hope’s face paled. “It’s not certain. This could all be some kind of illusion, some kind of trick.”
“It would make for a pretty good trick,” Faith said. “The room is filled with mystical energy. I can practically see the rip.”
Faith grabbed her sister’s arm and hauled her into the keeping room.
“It’s right here,” she said.
Faith waved her hand through the air in front of the desk. A light blue shimmer streamed through the air at the touch of her hand.
“Anyone want to follow?”
“You know we can’t do that,” Charity said.
Faith turned to her youngest sister. Charity looked in worse shape than Hope. Why did these girls always fall apart when she needed them most?
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Hope whispered. Faith huffed while Hope struggled with an obvious wave of nausea. “With a little more time, I might be able to work out the science. I mean, it’s probably molecular fission, magnetic fields or something. Maybe we can pull him back through.”
“Yeah, whatever, Hope,” Faith said. “You know this has nothing to do with science. It’s witchcraft, and just because we’ve not used our powers much doesn’t mean they don’t exist. We’ve obviously used them before, and damn, we were good. I can’t figure out why someone thought pulling Ryder out of his life made sense.”
“He’s okay,” Charity said. “I can feel it. Relax for a minute. I think you’ll feel it, too.”
Hope dropped down onto the leather sofa and sank into the pillows. Faith had a better idea. She pulled open the drawer of the desk and took out a glass, slapping it on the mahogany. She reached way back in the drawer, knowing he hid it pretty well, and her fingers touched the familiar contours of the Jack Daniels bottle. She pulled it out and blinked. Something shimmered at the edge of the desk, a pale blue haze that swirled like a mist. When she blinked again, an object sat there. Christ, she hoped it wasn’t what she thought. She pulled the worn leather volume toward her, sliding it across the desk with tented fingers. She didn’t really want to touch it. Her stomach flopped.
“This wasn’t here a minute ago,” she said.
She held the book between her fingers like a squashed bug and glanced at her sisters. Charity looked like she might
be sick on the rug. Faith certainly didn’t need that.
“Lean over the trash can, honey,” she said. “You’re making me nervous.”
“I’m okay,” she said.
But Faith saw that Charity didn’t look okay at all. Not a bit okay. She was worried about herself, as well. She dropped the book onto the desk like it burned her fingers.
“It’s the Keats, isn’t it?” Hope asked, pulling herself to the edge of the sofa. Faith wondered how a pale girl could get even more colorless. This would be great if one of them hurled and the other fainted.
“Put your head between your knees,” Faith said.
Hope obeyed. Her small voice drifted through the room, fighting through the web of hair that fell to the floor. “Please tell me he has two ratty old books. I know that wasn’t here today, because I looked for it.”
“Poetry, Hope? You?”
“English project,” Hope said. “It’s just like him to disappear when I really needed his help.”
Faith’s heart pounded, but she knew someone had to do it. She reached toward the Keats, and her fingers hovered undecided. Her hands shook, so she did the only thing she could think of. She opened the bottle of Jack and took a very long swig. The liquid slid down her throat, burning its way to her stomach. She took another swig for good measure, closing her eyes to take a bigger gulp.
When she opened her eyes, Hope stood at the desk. She was still pale, but she seemed steady. That was a good sign.
“Give me that,” Hope said, grabbing the bottle. She took a long drink and swallowed. She shivered and made a face. “Yikes! How does he drink this stuff? It tastes like battery acid.”
She held the bottle out to Charity, who shook her head weakly and dove for the trash can.
“Gross,” Faith said.
They waited for a minute, while Charity spit into the trash can, then grabbed a tissue and wiped her mouth. The three sisters hovered over the desk, watching the book as though it might do a trick.
“Is it really the Keats?” Charity whispered.
Faith nodded. Her head felt heavy, and she thought the next nod might make it fall off her neck.
“Check it, Faith,” Hope said. “Make sure.”
“Why do I have to do it?” Faith snapped.
“Because you’re the oldest,” Hope said.
“Damn it, Hope!” Faith said. “That’s Spock logic!”
“Come up with something better.”
The last thing on earth Faith wanted to do was touch that book. Ryder had been gone less than twenty-four hours. She had peeked in last night and seen him buried in that bottle of Jack, reading some kind of parchment. It couldn’t be the book that sat here, and if it was, where was he? How had the book returned and not brought its owner?
Faith’s hand shot out and picked up the book. She expected it to disintegrate in her hands, or at the very least, burst into flame. But the book sat in her hand like a book. She ran her hands over the leather and across the bumpy ridge of the paper. The writing on the spine said The Complete Poetry of John Keats. She glanced at her sisters, and both of them gave her a nod of encouragement.
Thanks for nothing.
She flipped through the pages. There were the telltale Ryder markings, the arrows and underlines, the hieroglyphic notes and stars. There were the habitual coffee stains and the dog-eared page containing “La Belle Dame Sans Merci.” As she ruffled the pages, a parchment sheet fell onto the desk.
“Jesus,” Faith said. “He was reading this last night. I recognize the charred edges.”
“Were you spying on him?” Hope asked.
“He’s been losing it,” Faith said. “Haven’t you noticed? I don’t think he had any idea what prolonged stress can do and—”
“No psychobabble tonight, Faith,” Hope said. “We all know he’s been acting funny.”
Faith reached toward the parchment.
“Don’t touch it!” Hope cried.
“Why not?” Faith asked. “We’ve gone this far. How can it get worse?”
“I don’t know,” Hope said. “I just don’t want to.”
Charity reached out and tentatively touched the piece of parchment. She jerked her hand back.
Hope flinched. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Charity said. “I changed my mind.”
“Stop being babies,” Faith said. “We already know what it is. It’s a piece of parchment.”
“It’s more than that,” Charity said. “They weren’t here a minute ago. If the book is here and the parchment is here, why isn’t Ryder here? Where is he, Faith? What happened to him?”
Charity’s face scrunched. Faith really didn’t need a hysterical sister on her hands, not when she felt so close to being hysterical herself. Too late, there were the tears.
“Hope,” Faith said. “Come on, help me out here. What’s going on?”
“You think I know?” Hope asked. “How would I know?”
“You’re the scientist,” Faith said. “Do some science. Figure it out. Tell me about these magnetic fissures or whatever they are.”
Hope pressed her hands against her eyes and screeched.
Oh, yes, bad to worse if Hope is getting hysterical.
“You think this is science?” Hope asked, sweeping her arm around the room. “There is a rip in this room! A one-way ticket to another time, another place. Does that sound like science to you? Does it, Faith? Because, as far as I know, none of this ever happens in a lab. We don’t have a clue what is happening here. If anyone should know what’s going on here, it’s you.”
Faith blinked. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the oldest!” Hope cried. “You’re the first sister!”
“Are you kidding me?” Faith asked. “I’m the oldest, so I have to have all the answers? Why would you even think that?”
“Because that’s the way it is,” Hope said. “You’re our center. You hold us together. And you understand him better than anyone. You always have the answers. Find some goddamned answers!”
“Please stop,” Faith said. “I can’t handle both of you crying at the same time. Give me a minute. I’ll do it. We’ll figure it out, okay?”
She stood for a long while, staring at the book, a stupid book that should have been like any other book on any other desk in town. But this book had never been like any other book. This one was filled with Ryder. It held his thoughts, his dreams, and his hopes. This book was probably the last thing from this world he had touched, and the parchment was the first thing he had touched from where he had gone. They were connected, not only to both times, but to their brother.
Once again, her hand reached out, and for some reason, she knew now she would find the answer. The Keats and the parchment held all the answers they wanted. She had to find the courage to give the answers to her sisters, when she doubted she wanted the answers herself.
She picked up the parchment and unfolded it. One side offered a letter, seemingly written by a woman. Faith handled it carefully. She did not want the last thing her brother had touched to dissolve in her hands. She recognized it—the strange diary page of that woman. She flipped it in her hand and found his message. He had written his words with a quill and, though the nature of the writing instrument had forced him to take more time, she recognized his unmistakable scrawl. The writing blurred through the tears in her eyes. She blinked them back and glanced up at her sisters.
“There’s a note,” she said. She hardly recognized her own voice.
“A note,” Hope whispered.
“From Ryder?” Charity asked.
Faith nodded.
“What does it say?” Hope asked.
Why did Hope sound so young? Why did she sound like a small child who had heard a monster under the bed?
“Read it, Faith,” Charity said. “Please.”
She really did not want to do this, but of course there was never a choice. Both of her sisters looked at her with that look she had seen all her life. The look said,
Fix it. I can’t deal. You’re the one. Make it better.
Check my closet, Faith. Kill the spider, Faith. I miss Mommy, Faith. Leslie’s picking on me, Faith. Brad dumped me, Faith. Daddy’s crying again, Faith. Where’s our brother, Faith? Oh, yes, she had seen that look so many times.
She cleared her throat. No way out of it. No choice. No options. It was hell being the oldest. She started to read, and her voice shook. She hated sounding so weak, so scared, but she kept reading.
Hi, Faith. I know it’s you reading this letter. Say hi to Hope and Charity for me. They’re crying, aren’t they? Don’t let them cry. There’s no reason for tears. I’ve never been happier.
I found the woman I’ve been searching for all my life, thanks to you. Her name is Arleigh. She’s perfect. We are linked through memories and lifetimes, through faery spells and reality. Without each other, our souls will wither away, and our lives will hold no meaning. Does any of that sound familiar to you, Faith? It should. You said it to me once, a long time ago. Somehow, you’ve always known the right thing to say. How do you do that?
I’m in 1639, and in the company of the first American Trinity. Fiana, Hannah, and Corliss are perfect and way more familiar than I like to admit. They are safe and happy, but they are very young. They need me to look after them and make them a whole family, and I want to do it. Since I know them so well, loving them and caring for them is going to be the easiest thing I’ve ever done. The three of you, the Trinity, have always been, but you’ve probably always known that.
I love it here, and I’m going to be the best damn tobacco farmer this colony has ever seen. I haven’t figured out how to deal with the moral issue of that yet, but I’ll come up with something. And since they don’t have Jack here, I’m going to do some serious distilling.
Don’t worry about me fitting in. I blend in great. No one would ever guess I’m not a colonial. I’m going to keep a journal of my adventures. Maybe you’ll read them some day.
It appears to be my responsibility to continue a dynasty. Not one to shirk duty, I have graciously consented to do my part with Arleigh’s full cooperation. Did I tell you how perfect she is? I wish you could meet her.
Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance) Page 41
