Unbound (The Trinity Sisters Book 1)

by Coley, Kristin

  “Do you know what witches do to obnoxiously cheerful morning people?” I paused for effect. “They kill them, Garvin.”

  “And who's a grumpy bear this morning?” Garvin asked, poking me in the side. I smiled into my pillow as he shrieked. “Turn it off. Oh Jesus. Roe!” Suddenly, Garvin was under the covers with me, hiding from the clown I’d created.

  “Serves you right,” I muttered around a huge yawn. He frowned at me ferociously, but quickly abandoned it for more interesting topics.

  “So how was he? He looks like he could go all night,” Garvin asked, causing me to drop my head into the pillow with a groan. “You can’t hold out on me! I tell you everything.”

  “I know.” My response was muffled by the pillow, and I wondered if I could suffocate myself instead of having this conversation. “You are aware I don’t ask for your gory details?” I shifted my head slightly, so I could peer at him with one eye.

  “But I give them to you anyway!” he exclaimed, missing my point completely. “Now, dish.”

  “Nothing to dish,” I told him, sitting up on my forearms. “We only held hands.” He looked at me in disbelief, as I grinned at him. “What kind of girl do you take me for? Once he asks Daddy for my hand in marriage, I might allow him a kiss.”

  The pillow slammed into me a second later, starting an all-out war. It ended when the last pillow exploded, showering us in feathers. We laughed at the sight of ourselves covered in white downy feathers. I blew a few off my face before checking the time.

  “I am not willing to miss breakfast playing around with you,” I told him, hopping out of the bed to get dressed. Momma Garvin expected you to look presentable at the dining table, so I walked over to the closet filled with what I lovingly referred to as my doll clothes. I stepped into the walk-in closet, filled to the brim with fashionable attire, suitable for any occasion. Formal gowns: check. Cocktail dresses: check. Business suits: check. Shoes … my God, the wall of shoes.

  “Yay!” Garvin came up behind me. “I get to dress you today!” My wince was cut off from view by my t-shirt being pulled over my head. I hurried to remove the pants before Garvin pulled those off too. “At least they’re name brand,” he muttered, holding the t-shirt gingerly.

  “Only because you packed it,” I reminded him drily.

  Garvin clapped his hands, walking past slacks, blouses, and skirts. I hopped up on the counter above the built-in drawers and swung my feet, waiting. It would take him a few minutes to decide. My lack of clothing didn’t bother me, not around Garvin. I swear; he saw me more as a life size doll than a flesh and blood female.

  “Hmmm, a skirt to show off your legs?” He hesitated in front of a flowered skirt before shaking his head. “Maybe skinny jeans and boots.” He tapped his finger on his lip and kept walking. I didn’t bother asking for something comfortable. That would have zero bearing on his choice. I wiggled my toes, feeling antsy. One, I hadn’t seen Luke in several hours. A fact that shouldn’t have affected me so strongly, but it didn’t seem to matter. Our connection had only grown with our close proximity over the past couple of days. I missed his touch and the feeling that came with his presence.

  And two, I knew on the other side of that door was a witch, one that knew far more than I did about what was really going on. We needed her knowledge, but whether or not she could be trusted remained to be seen. At this point though, I would be willing to risk anything to bring my sisters together.

  “Perfection,” Garvin cried, cradling an outfit against his chest.

  I reached out for it, asking him sarcastically, “Am I allowed to wear it? You seem pretty attached.” He rolled his eyes, “Of course. Put it on, while I find shoes.” His choice was actually comfortable, caramel colored slacks with an ivory V-neck blouse, but the shoes he decided on were another matter. My look was disbelieving, as he handed me the five inch heels.

  “They look so good together,” he pouted prettily, ready to win with any weapons at his disposal. “You want Luke to be wowed, don’t you?”

  I wrinkled my nose at his dirty tactics. He had quickly discovered my weak spot. I did want to wow Luke with something other than my freakish magical abilities. He had seen me in nothing but casual clothes since we had met. Well, if you discounted the glitter gown debacle, but I tried to block that from my memory.

  I grabbed the shoes from him, frowning ungraciously, as I shoved my feet into the torture devices. I headed for the door before feeling myself being dragged back.

  “Makeup!” Garvin insisted, his grip firm on my wrist, as he turned me toward the bathroom. I opened my mouth to protest; we were gonna miss breakfast at this rate. “Nope. Don’t even bother. Your man is not going to recognize you when I’m done.”

  I sighed gustily, as I allowed myself to be towed into the bathroom for a Garvin makeover.

  “Don’t touch your face,” Garvin said, slapping at my hand, as I reached up to scratch my nose. I frowned, glaring at him from the corner of my eye. “Don’t frown, you’ll get wrinkles. I don’t need you messing up my creation before he even sees it.”

  I rolled my eyes, but kept my hands down. I blinked several times, feeling the layers of mascara he’d applied to my eyelashes. I admitted to myself, since there was no way I would say it out loud and increase Garvin’s already inflated ego, he had done an amazing job with my makeup. I was still me, but better. He’d taken all of my average features and worked his own brand of magic to enhance them. My already noticeable eyes were now a dramatic focal point on my face, my cheekbones subtly highlighted, and the barest pink lipstick drew attention to the shape of my lips. There was no denying I felt pretty. I paused, drawing Garvin to a stop with me before we entered the dining room.

  “Thank you,” I told him abruptly, unable to find a more elegant way to express my appreciation for him insisting on making me beautiful. He smiled, understanding me better than I did, “Of course, boo, of course. I’ll always be here when you need me. Makeup, guns, condoms—I’m your guy.”

  He startled a laugh out of me, which was precisely his intent, because he walked me into the dining room laughing. Luke glanced up at our entrance, and the captivated look on his face made every second of my makeover worth it. He stood up from the table, coming over to me, his eyes never leaving mine and causing him to trip over a chair leg. He caught himself with a rueful smile, but kept his eyes on me. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his hand finding mine instinctively. I ducked my head slightly, a slight flush filling my cheeks at his words.

  “Thank you,” I replied, before deflecting the attention. “I’m Garvin’s masterpiece for the day.”

  “He had a perfect canvas to work on,” Luke said, causing my flush to deepen before he led me to the table. As we reached the table, I noticed the woman who had ambushed us a few days before. She was stiff sitting in her chair at the table, her discomfort obvious. I smiled, attempting to put her at ease, but if nothing else, it seemed to make it worse. She straightened even more, a feat I would have thought impossible. I moved my gaze to Momma Garvin, the matriarch presiding over the head of the table, and gave her a grin. Her strict expression relaxed, and I brushed a kiss against her smooth cheek. She was elegance personified and didn’t look a day over thirty, even though I knew for a fact she was fifty-six.

  “You look very presentable,” Momma Garvin said, approvingly, and I accepted it for the compliment it was. She glanced at the clock, just as it turned to nine. “Breakfast may be served.” We all settled down as Jean Luc came around with our plates.

  “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Mouton,” Luke said, his manners on full display, only endearing him further to Momma Garvin.

  “Call me Sheila, Luke,” she replied with a simper, her hand covering Luke’s. My eyebrows rose so high, it felt like they touched my hairline, as I turned to Garvin and we mouthed in unison, “Sheila?” At no point in the past four years had I ever heard Momma Garvin tell someone to call her Sheila, and apparently neither had Garvin.

&nbs
p; “Why, thank you, ma’am.” Luke gave her a grin that could strip the panties right off a woman, and Garvin pretended to gag. I choked back a laugh, as Momma Garvin, or should I say Sheila, asked him if he needed to be excused from the table.

  “No, Momma,” he replied quickly, looking down at his plate. Luke chose that moment to distract Sheila with a question, and I wiggled my eyebrows at Garvin, forcing him to bite back a laugh before she did send him from the table.

  I looked over at the woman who had declared me a witch, curious about her decision to be here. She studied the food in front of her, seemingly unaware of the conversations around her.

  “I’m Sinclair,” I offered, trying to find some common ground with her. She possessed information that could be useful to all of us, but more than that, I knew we could be friends. Her choice to be here, in the lion’s den, so to speak, told me quite a bit about her. She had made it a point to warn me, even at risk to herself, and I instinctively felt she had told us the truth. Plus, there were no shadows surrounding her, so she wasn’t evil. That was always a relief.

  She looked up at me then, and the words burst from her, “How many names do you have? He calls you Sin.” She pointed to Luke. “He calls you Roe.” She pointed to Garvin. “She calls you Claire.” She finished indicating Momma Garvin before noticing her arched eyebrow and adding a respectful Ma’am to the end.

  I couldn’t stop my laughter at her little rant, because her obvious irritation was valid. Garvin bit back a smile, and Luke glanced over, amused.

  “My name is Sinclair Monroe Davis. I’ve gone by Claire Monroe for years,” I answered her, finally. “I answer to just about anything.” I looked at her curiously. “What’s your name? We didn’t have a chance to introduce ourselves.” I tactfully didn’t mention her disappearing act and the shots fired immediately after. It hadn’t escaped me though.

  “Portia,” she told me grudgingly, her eyes frustrated, as she looked at me. I didn’t know what she was searching for. She had more information than the rest of us, information she would only share with me, apparently.

  “Nice to meet you, officially,” I stressed, giving her a considering smile. It appeared as if neither of us trusted the other, and we were both going to have to give a little to make this work. She nodded, her gaze a bit less hostile, as she went back to her breakfast.

  Once Momma Garvin excused us from the table, I headed over to Portia. We might as well get our little chat over with. Luke headed over to us, but was intercepted by Shelia before he reached me.

  “Darling boy, why don’t you sit and chat with me in the parlor?” She rubbed her hand over his arm, “What strong muscles you have!”

  “... I ... actually,” Luke attempted to decline, stammering and gesturing to me with a helpless look on his face.

  “Oh, she and Portia will chat. You don’t want to leave me unaccompanied, do you?” Momma Garvin asked, with an arched eyebrow.

  “No, Ma'am,” Luke conceded graciously. She tugged on his arm and they headed to the parlor, a room I had never been allowed to step foot in. A glance over at Garvin revealed him frowning after them. I could feel Portia’s eyes drilling into me, and knew our conversation couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Garvin,” I called to him, snapping him out of the funk he’d fallen into, witnessing his momma make sweet eyes at my soulmate. He looked at me, and I shifted my eyes toward Portia. He caught my meaning immediately; the benefit of our being besties. A small shudder went through me at my internal use of the word besties. This needed to stop before I turned into someone I didn’t recognize.

  “We can go into the library.” He glanced over at the door his mom and Luke went though. “We won’t be disturbed.” We followed him into the library, a room I happened to adore. It truly was better stocked than most libraries. The bookshelves went from floor to ceiling, only interrupted on one wall by a massive stone fireplace. Every classic novel was represented, plus a large collection of modern hardbacks and paperbacks. If you couldn’t find something from that selection, there were Kindle readers on every table with access to download any book. It was a bibliophile’s dream.

  The scent of leather and books engulfed us, as we stepped into the room. It was a smell I associated with libraries, minus the leather, that was all Momma Garvin. Leather club chairs were scattered around in intimate groupings, the supple material soft, as I folded myself into one. Portia remained standing, eyeing Garvin with suspicion, as he settled next to me.

  “He stays,” I remarked, with finality. “Sit down and talk.” My words brought her attention to me and she perched on the edge of the chair opposite me. I waited for her to speak. I didn’t think anything I knew would be new knowledge to her.

  “You don’t know anything, do you?” she asked, rhetorically I assumed, since obviously I knew something, maybe not witchy stuff, but I wasn’t a complete moron. “You don’t know how powerful you truly are. I can feel it. You’re dangerous.” She spoke rapidly, almost as if speaking to herself. I could feel the passion in her words and the fear, her fear of me and what I represented. She jumped up, unable to sit still, and started pacing in front of us.

  “You are the stuff of legend. You star in stories that we tell our children as fairy tales. Prophecies so old, that only our elders remember them.” She spat the words out before stopping to stare at me with burning eyes. “Your very existence threatens the balance we’ve maintained for over five hundred years.”

  “Maybe it’s time for a change?” Garvin piped in, breaking the stare down Portia and I were locked in.

  “Seriously?” Her tone indicated that he was an idiot before she continued, “A thousand years of darkness is preferable to the balance we have now?”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I interrupted. “No one mentioned a thousand years of darkness. Maybe we should back up a sec. Stories? Prophecies? Obviously, I don’t know what they are. Maybe we need to start there.” I kept the rhyme my mother had taught us to myself, since it was starting to look like a few lines might have been missing.

  Portia stared at me with mounting frustration, as she threw herself into a chair. “There’s so much you don’t know. You’re in danger, because you’re unbound.” Her words became quieter, as she seemed to speak to herself. “I can’t bring you before the Council. Not as things currently are. But how else to explain?”

  “Unbound? Council?” I didn’t understand the things she was mentioning, every sentence coming out of her mouth only making me more aware of my own ignorance. “How about you explain those to me first.”

  She paused, and I could see her struggle with the massive hole that was my lack of knowledge. She closed her eyes and whispered what appeared to be a prayer before opening her eyes again and looking at me calmly.

  “Unbound.” She started there, and I leaned forward, somehow more eager to know what this meant than any concern over a Council. “It means you haven’t completed the trinity.” My gaze sharpened at her use of the word trinity, a phrase our mother’s rhyme had used. “Obviously all three of you were born, but your powers haven’t all been released.” Her words were softer now, less certain, as she struggled to explain this piece. My thumb rubbed over the symbol on my wrist, her knowledge of its incompleteness bothering me.

  “How?” I asked, needing to understand how she knew. Her fingers flickered to my wrist.

  “I saw the final loop was missing, but more than that.” She paused again, searching for words and making me impatient. “Magic—power—leaves a mark. A trinity hasn’t existed for centuries. There is no one living that remembers someone who lived when the last trinity existed. But the stories are clear. Our magic connects us and once a trinity is complete, it will be felt by all.” I nodded slowly, remembering how it felt when my power was released and again, the stronger reverberation from Kincaid. It occurred to me then, there was no reason for me to believe it was Kincaid’s power that had been released, but somehow I knew it was Kincaid and not Quinn. Our connection went deeper than any of the
ir stories could have imagined.

  “Once you’re bound, you will be safer,” she indicated, catching my attention. My head turned slightly, and I raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Once the trinity is complete, killing any of you would be pointless. In fact, it could very well cause the one thing most of us want to prevent.” My expression must have expressed my confusion, because she clarified. “The darkness.”

  I sat back in my chair with a sigh. I didn’t know what this ‘darkness’ entailed, but it was enough to make people want to kill me and my sisters, and it drove our mother to destroy our family. Perhaps our existence was dangerous.

  “Wait,” Garvin said, looking between us. “What’s to say killing one of them before the trinity is complete wouldn’t start the darkness too?”

  Portia looked stunned at this idea, and I glanced at Garvin admiringly. He preened at our reaction to his bit of logic, but it made sense. Who is to say the ‘darkness’ wouldn’t want the loss of the trinity as well. What if our existence was the only thing preventing it?

  I asked these questions out loud to Portia’s consternation.

  “You might be right,” she admitted quietly. “But more than the darkness is the fear the trinity would be on the side of the darkness.”

  Again, my expression was puzzled by this, and she sought to explain.

  “You don’t understand how powerful you are, by yourself.” Portia looked around and spotted a candle on the table. She whispered something, and a flame appeared on the candle. “That’s my power. Lighting a candle. But yours is so much more.” She told me to focus on the fireplace, and then told me to say, “The flame is lit, warmth and light for our delight.”

  A roaring fire burst to life in the fireplace, the logs a deep red, as if they’d been burning for hours. I was shocked, and Garvin looked at me, “Illusion?”

  I shook my head no. The fire was no illusion of mine, but a real flame producing heat.

  “See? I can’t do that.” Portia looked at the candle flame. “That’s the difference. I can create a candle flame and you, a huge fire. And that’s just you.” She sighed, her mouth twisted, as she stared into the flames of the fire I had created. “When you’ve completed the trinity, what you’ll be capable of then ….” She paused, almost at a loss for words. “You could destroy the world if you so choose.”