by Jaci Miller
“What do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?”
Sitting on a metal stool beside the kitchen island she tried to ignore the dangerously alluring energy floating around him.
“What are your plans for the old flour mill?”
He shrugged, busying himself with the percolator. “I haven’t decided yet. It was just a good investment.”
“Mr. Beck, we both know the mill is special, so let’s just cut the bull.”
His blue eyes flashed, and he raised a brow.
“Please call me Lucien.”
He handed her a cup of steaming hot coffee and then poured another for himself. “The mill is special. I’m sure you know the energy surrounding it is very active. In the right hands, it could be useful.”
“And in the wrong ones, perilous.” She rubbed her forehead.
“We can’t stop what’s coming. The best we can hope for is the ability to wield the prophecy to our advantage.”
Lucien came around the counter and sat beside her, leaned in, and lowered his voice. “Do you really want to stop it? I know your destiny, Dane. The burden that’s been placed on you. Do you really want to be a savior? Aren’t you tired of always being the one who must be strong? The one who others lean on and constantly look to for guidance?”
His seductive energy wrapped itself around her as he spoke. Tenderly he pushed a lock of hair back from her face, his fingers caressing her cheek as he did so.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to just let it all go.”
Aqua blue eyes stared deep into her own. He smelled clean, like shower soap and laundry detergent. She frowned as her focus blurred, and she rubbed her forehead again as wooziness washed over her. The room spun. As she tried to focus on his words, her mind drifted. Shaking her head, she tried to concentrate on his voice, his face. He grasped her hand and abruptly everything came back into focus, the fog in her mind dissolved.
“You keep it bottled up inside, don’t you—the anger and pain. Because you’re afraid of what you will do if you let it free. Don’t you find it exhausting?”
Lulled by the alluring energy surrounding him she closed her eyes. The faint feeling returned, and her thoughts once again became jumbled.
“Dane?”
Eyelids fluttered open and his face came back into focus. A small scar marred the corner of his upper lip. It was mostly hidden by the shadow of his beard. Without thinking, she reached up and ran her finger across it.
He smiled and took her hand, kissing it. Leaning in he pulled her toward him. His lips found hers. The kiss was gentle at first but then deepened. His tongue parted her lips and she moaned softly.
After a few seconds, he pulled back, his blue eyes full of lust. He smiled and kissed her hand again.
“Come to the city with me. I think you will like it there.”
She nodded absently as she was overwhelmed by exhaustion. Her mind reeled. A witch, hidden in the shadows and now the burden of her legacy—what had it gotten her?
Heartache.
The world would not accept her, and her friends didn’t know her, not really. Hiding her powers, lying to her friends, keeping everyone at arm’s length it was exhausting. Now, her future was to be determined by an ancient prophecy—a family legacy that had gotten her mother killed.
Maybe Lucien was right.
Maybe there was something else, something better. She should be the one to determine her own destiny, not one born from another world.
“Let it go,” he whispered in her ear as his lips brushed her lobe. “You’re safe with me.”
A surge of anger raged through her feeding on her thoughts, her perceived betrayals, her frustration. It washed over her in waves, a heated passion that seduced her thoughts. Suddenly, she didn’t care anymore about control. She wanted to be free.
The ancient magic in her veins swelled and with it something familiar. The way it reached toward her heart was intimate but before she could identify what it was it disappeared swallowed by the rising tide of anger within.
Lucien saw the black shadow ripple through Dane’s green eyes and smiled.
He kissed her forehead. “We will leave for the city this afternoon. Until then, maybe you should lie down. You don’t look well.”
Chapter 17
It had been years since Nathan Callan visited the underground.
Hidden below a group of multimillion-dollar buildings in Manhattan it was a place where the magical community of New York City conjugated in privacy. Undetected and hidden by the chaotic energy of the city above it, the underground was connected by a network of secret tunnels.
New York was home to one of the oldest and most prominent magical communities in the country and consisted of some of the wealthiest elite in the city. One of the most formidable was Celeste Winslow the woman Nathan had come to meet. A ranking member of the Coven—a body of witch elders who oversee the magical communities’ interaction with the mortal world—and a high priestess, her ancestral powers derived from legendary voodoo priestesses of the south.
He hadn’t seen her in years and although they were both members of elite divisions of their community, their roles were very different.
Nathan Callan was a Syndicate elder, a foot soldier out in the world cleaning up magical messes. Celeste Winslow on the other hand, as a high-ranking leader of the Coven, directed all undertakings dealing with the magic community. He hoped with her connections she might be able to help because he was running out of time and options.
Entering the World Bank of New York, he headed straight through the marble lobby to a heavy walnut door. It was discreetly positioned under the spiral staircase leading to the upper echelon of the global banking business. Unnoticeable unless you knew of its existence.
He used his iron key to open the lock, closing the heavy door silently behind him.
Inside the small room were two elevators. A small glass pedestal on which sat a rotary dial phone was to the side. Nathan placed his palm down on the electronic pad. The scanner emitted a blue light as it checked his identity and after a few moments, the phone rang. A series of soft beeps came through the receiver, and he waited until he heard the dial tone before hanging up. The sound of the elevator ascending from the underground tunnels broke the silence in the small space.
As the doors slide open, he took a deep breath.
Celeste Winslow was a formidable woman, and he hoped that she would have a way to help him find his wife’s killer.
Entering the Syndicate’s code on the device inside, the elevator quickly slid to the right before descending into the underground, ten floors under Manhattan’s street level. The tunnels had many entrances, but the World Bank elevator was the one that led directly to the Coven’s Grand Hall.
A ping indicated his arrival.
The doors opened into a large circular room with a vaulted ceiling. Glass tinkled as the chandelier caught the draft made by the elevator doors. Wrought iron coach lights lined the stone walls. A white flame flickered in each. Nathan walked to the conference table situated in the room’s center. He admired the pentacle etched into the high-gloss surface, and the twelve black leather throne chairs surrounding it.
The room was impressive and a bit intimidating.
Besides his anxious breathing, the only sound in the room was the tick of the iron clock hanging on the wall.
He paced the room impatiently until the sound of the elevator descending drew his attention.
Moments later the doors opened, and Celeste Winslow swept in on four-inch stilettos. She was a stunning woman. Dressed in a navy blue pencil skirt and white silk blouse, she oozed confidence and intimidation. A perfect chignon sat at the nape of her long, slender neck and her caramel skin was smooth and tight. Although her graying hair indicated maturity, no one would guess she was in her sixties.
“Nathan,” she said, hurr
ying toward him. “It’s been too long.”
Taking his hands in her own she gazed at him a look of concern reflected in her amber eyes.
“I’m so sorry about Ella. Please tell me you have news?”
“I do but I’m also hoping you might help me.”
“Of course, anything.”
They spent the next hour discussing the parameters surrounding Ella Watts’ death. What the Syndicate members had found and what Alistair suspected to be the cause and the motive.
Celeste’s shoulders slumped and her eyes filled with tears. “It’s absolutely barbaric but I’m thankful she didn’t suffer. Who could do such a thing?”
Nathan sighed. He felt years older and absolutely defeated because for once, he had no answers.
“Where is Alistair now?”
“Trying to locate where the poison came from. It was a specific mixture of both a sleeping agent and a paralyzing drug concocted so my wife wouldn’t feel the desecration of her body or the pain from the poison that killed her. There are very few alchemists who can produce such a precise mixture.”
“I assume he’s already questioned the ones working for us?”
Nathan nodded. “He’s certain it’s an alchemist practicing without a license. If he’s out there, Alistair will find him.”
Checking her watch, she said. “I will look into your requests and get back to you in a day or two.” She took his hands in hers and squeezed. “We will find your daughter, Nathan.”
“Thank you, Celeste.”
“Of course.” She walked calmly into the elevator but as the doors closed her amber eyes locked on Nathan’s, and he saw a simmering rage reflected in her irises.
“Ella’s killer will be found and the punishment severe. You have my word.”
Celeste hung up the phone and leaned back in her leather desk chair gazing out the window of her tenth-story office. It had taken her less than twelve hours to track down some answers. There was always someone in New York’s extensive magical community who had information or knew someone who did.
After her discussion with Nathan, she’d had her suspicions as to who was involved. The information he provided along with information the other members of the Syndicate had uncovered created a familiar narrative. A highly unusual one that reflected similarities to another matter the Coven was dealing with.
She pressed the intercom on her phone. “Eliza can you bring me the file I requested, please.”
“Right away, ma’am,” a voice responded.
There’d been a recent uptick in magical crimes, misdemeanors, and strange happenings in the city. It was unusual and there were stirrings within the magical community that a cleansing of some sort was forthcoming—a precursor to a rebirth of magic in the world. Normally, the Coven would ignore such speculations but since the recent discovery by the Coven’s alchemist sect, there’d been a shift in thinking. Rumors had long existed within their community that the magic in this world was connected to a dimensional realm long forgotten. But like most stories of old, it was considered a myth, until recently.
The office door opened, and her assistant walked in holding a thick file.
“Can I get you anything else, Mrs. Winslow,” she asked placing the file on the desk.
“That will be everything, for now, thank you.”
After Eliza closed the office door, she opened the file, flipping through the documents.
The Coven alchemists recently discovered a formula, in the basement of one of the oldest buildings in the city. A spell that would allow an individual with magical blood to travel to an alternate reality. It was like an astral projection but instead of the astral body leaving the physical one to travel through this universe, it passed through the veil into another dimension.
Over the past few months, multiple witches had tried it, and all experienced the same thing—a world beyond this one. A universe of magic; a place where ancient civilizations once ruled and elemental magic thrived.
Celeste had been intrigued but skeptical of this discovery until today when Nathan Callan walked into the World Bank of New York and told her of the ancient prophecy, the Five Realms, and his daughter’s connection to it all. He referred to it as the Second Coming. A cleansing. A magical rebirth and new world order?
The puzzle pieces had clicked into place and although much remained unclear, she feared her instincts were correct—Lucien Beck was somehow in the middle of it.
Over the past year, Lucien had become distant, secretive. He left most of the day to day business decisions to his executive team while he traveled extensively. She spoke to him on occasion, he never refused her calls, but their conversations were always brief and awkwardly cordial. Then he disappeared—an unscheduled trip to Europe his assistant confirmed after ignoring multiple phone inquiries from Celeste as to his whereabouts.
When he finally returned last month, his stay in the city was brief. He had business elsewhere in the state and left again almost immediately. She tried on multiple occasions to reach him, to tell him of the alchemist’s discovery, but he never returned her calls. And now, according to the call she’d just received he was back in the city, and he was not alone—a woman fitting Dane’s description was with him.
Finding what she was looking for she pulled the paper from the file. It contained all the names of the witches who’d traveled through the veil. Scanning the list, she noted the names of three coven elders.
She pressed the intercom button.
“Yes, Mrs. Winslow.”
“Eliza, please set up a meeting of the council.”
“When would you like it scheduled for?”
“Right away.”
Sighing Celeste disconnected, picked up her cell phone and tapped out Lucien’s number. It rang incessantly until his voice mail connected. Hanging up she glanced at her watch. It was almost seven am, too early to go to his office and too late to cancel any of her meetings. She would have to pay him a visit in the morning.
She sent her scheduler a quick text asking her to clear all her appointments for the following day. An unscheduled visit to Beck Holdings was the one appointment she would be keeping.
Reluctantly she dialed Nathan Callan’s number.
After a few rings, he answered. “Celeste? What is it?”
“Nathan, I can’t be sure, but I think Dane is here in the city.”
There was a pause. “You have seen her?”
“No, but reports lead me to believe it might be her.”
“Where is she?”
She hesitated. “With Lucien Beck.”
“As in Beck Holdings? Why would she be with him?”
“Nathan, Lucien Beck is one of us.” She continued before he had a chance to respond. “He’s always preferred to stay in the background for personal reasons, but he’s a powerful witch.”
Maybe too powerful.
Nathan’s voice cracked as he spoke. “How does he fit into this?”
“The Coven’s been following a series of magical incidents, off-book infractions happening across the city in recent months. Our inquiries indicate Lucien Beck may be involved. We’ve searched tirelessly for him for weeks and today he showed up in the city with a female.”
“And you think it’s Dane.”
“The possibility is high.”
“Why?”
“Lucien thinks it’s time for magic in this world to become more overt. He’s complicated and has never been good at playing by the Coven rules. It’s possible he knows about the prophecy and Dane’s involvement with it. I’ve known Lucien Beck for a long time, Nathan and if I had to guess he plans to use her to further his endgame. Whatever that may be.”
“But Dane would never let this happen. She’s always been a strong, accomplished witch but now as an immortal with the ancient magic of our ancestors coursing through her blood, there
’s nothing Lucien Beck could do to persuade her to abandon her destiny.”
Celeste exhaled knowing she was about to reveal Lucien’s secret.
“There’s something you don’t know about Lucien Beck,” she said. “No one does. It may explain how he got Dane to come to the city.”
“What is it?”
“Lucien Beck is a glamour witch.”
A heavy silence pulsated from the other end of the phone line. It was deafening. Her heart sank as she waited for him to speak.
“I thought glamour witches were extinct.”
“He’s the only one we know of.”
“Glamour witches are dangerous, Celeste. They exist outside the norms of our tolerance and their powers violate everything the Coven and Syndicate believe, what the entire magical community believes. Free will is never to be toyed with. Why did I not know of his existence?”
His voice fluctuated as he tried to control his anger, but she knew it was well-founded.
“I should have told you, Nathan. I’m sorry, but Lucien has never been a threat. He’s always been a playboy but never has he used his powers ambiguously or to his advantage. Honestly, he has never had to. He’s powerful, good-looking, and extremely charming, women end up in Lucien Beck’s bed willingly.”
“There is a first time for everything Celeste.”
The irritation resonating through the phone was palpable. She didn’t blame him. He was right. In an attempt to not betray Lucien, she’d inadvertently betrayed the Syndicate and the Coven by hiding the truth from those who had a right to know.
She exhaled. “I hope you’re wrong, Nathan. If he’s used his magic to seduce your daughter and coerce her to come to New York, it can only mean one thing.”
“Which is?”
Celeste tapped the pen on her desktop as she thought.
“Dane must play a significant part in his plans.”
“I can make him forget her.”
Her heart clenched. Nathan Callan was no longer angry now he just sounded defeated.
“Using your magic on Lucien is no less of an infraction than him using his on Dane. Let me try to speak with him first before we resort to breaking more rules. I’ll go to his office in the morning and see what I can find out. He trusts me, Nathan, let me try. In the meantime, I will have my assistant send you everything we have uncovered regarding the magical infractions. Maybe you can see a pattern that we can’t.”
