“Knit, blend, tie, and bind.” The words flowed from me, along with heat from my hands covering the wound, and if I looked in a mirror I knew my eyes would be glowing, brighter than ever before. “Torn apart, mend together.” As I spoke, I could see the magic threading through my fingers, twisting as it followed my commands, healing the violent wound in his chest. Finally, the threads slowed before disappearing completely. I pulled my hands away from his chest to reveal a bloody, but unmarred surface. He smiled at me, “You’re incredible, you know that?”
“Starting to figure it out,” I answered, with a matching smile.
“Oh Jesus, I done witnessed a miracle!” Garvin said, with a loud lament, as he threw his hands in the air.
“Actually, magic, and it’s some of the most powerful I’ve ever witnessed,” Portia’s father corrected him, studying me intensely.
Garvin gave him an aggravated look through semi-closed eyes before crying up to the ceiling, “Don’t listen to the heathen, Jesus. I know you was here.”
Luke chuckled quietly beneath me, and I realized I was still sitting on him. I shifted off, not letting go of his hand, as he pulled himself up. He rubbed the spot on his chest with his free hand, and shook his head, “A miracle indeed.”
“I saw them.” He switched his focus to me even as he flipped my wrist over to see a now complete trinity symbol. “Quinn is beautiful, scared, but strong. Kincaid ….” I nodded and tears of happiness threatened to spill out of my eyes. “She’s amazing. Good. They both are.” I finished with a sigh.
“We’ll find them,” he replied to my unvoiced concern. The beep of a phone off the hook began to penetrate our little bubble, and I looked over at Portia and her father. Portia looked down at the phone still in her hand and hit end. Her father looked at us with tired eyes, “You’ll need to arrest me then. I’m sorry for what happened here today. Truly sorry. My daughter was right, and I’m sorry I couldn’t see that sooner.” Luke and I met each other’s eyes, and I gave a miniscule shake of my head. This was not an evil man, only a broken one, and I wouldn’t destroy what was left of Portia’s family.
“Well, now. Technically there was no crime committed here; at least, not one that could be proven in a court of law,” Luke told him, fingering the hole in his shirt with a shrug. “It seems to me your knowledge would be more useful to us, if you’re willing to join forces with us?”
Portia gave a little gasp, hope blossoming on her face, as her father gave me a stunned look. I met his eyes, knowing forgiveness was truly the most powerful of all magic. I gave him a small nod, and he nodded in reply, “Yes.”
“Oh it’s a happy ending all the way around!” Garvin said, clapping his hands. “I should probably go turn the car off, now that everything is worked out.”
He walked to the front door and pieces of the puzzle I had missed started to fall into place. Just as he reached the door to turn the handle, I screamed, “Stop!”
He froze, as did everyone else. “Umm, pumpkin, you okay?” Garvin asked me, slowly, not moving from his position.
“He didn’t shoot at us,” I replied, waving a hand at Portia’s father. “But someone else did. And they could very well be on the other side of the door.”
A slow clapping pulls our attention to the other side of the room, as he walked in from the kitchen. “I could be, but why bother when the back door was unlocked?”
Time and dark magic hadn’t been kind to my father. The shadows around him had multiplied, almost casting him in complete shade.
“You must have got your looks from your Momma,” Garvin commented, slowly walking back toward me. This observation caused the man in front of us to laugh.
“Yes, all of our lovely daughters took after their mother. It seems in more than just looks, as well. She thwarted me. I’ll give her that. I never saw it coming,” he said, with a rueful sigh.
Luke slid his body protectively in front of mine, an act my father did not miss.
“Seventeen years!” Portia’s father roared, lifting the gun he’d dropped after shooting Luke. In a motion so smooth and effortless, I almost missed it, my father flicked his fingers, threads of magic coming from them, and Portia’s father went flying, along with the gun. The threads looked wrong to me, almost as if their obedience was reluctant, an odd thought to have. My father looked almost frustrated, and turned toward Portia’s father. “I should have killed you when I took care of your mother and wife,” he spat out, his intent clear, as he raised his arm to send a killing blow of magic. I cast a shield to cover his prone body, the crest emblazoned on it flaring brightly, as it met his magic. I felt the contact as the magic dueled, but it didn’t weaken me, instead strength poured into me with the clash.
My father stumbled back, surprise written on his face, before using magic to knock a bookcase over on me. I cast one of my big hulking soldiers to catch the bookcase before casting another illusion, one it pained me to do.
“Mitchell,” my mother said, her voice light and happy, as it was before her daughters ruined what she thought of him. “What are you doing?” She smiled at him before saying, “They’ll destroy you.” She laughed, the sound lighthearted. “They are my daughters. Now LEAVE!” While he was distracted by my mother’s appearance, I rapidly pulled threads of magic together.
“Garvin, open the door,” I muttered, focusing on holding the threads together. This was unfamiliar magic for me, and I hoped it worked. Garvin ran to the door, pulling it open as my mother screamed for him to leave and I unleashed the threads I had been holding. They slammed into him with the force of a wrecking ball, and he flew out the opened door.
“Well, I would call that a homerun,” Garvin observed, looking to see where my father landed.
“I think we should go,” I said, pulling Portia’s father to his feet. “I don’t know if he’s stupid enough to come back or not.”
“Nope. Looks like he’s running away,” Garvin said, stretching on his tiptoes. “Roe, I’d be running away from you too. You damn near threw him the length of a football field.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it to have that much force,” I answered distractedly, as Luke proceeded to kiss the hell out of me.
“Really? Like we have time for that,” Garvin groused, turning to see why I had stopped talking.
I didn’t bother to respond to him, engrossed in the hard embrace I was locked in. The pressing of our lips together was frantic, both of us coming down from the emotional rush of almost losing the other. I wound my arms around his neck, seeking to get closer as our mouths slanted together, tongues dueling. My fingers ran through the hair at the nape of his neck, the thick strands curling around my fingers, as I pressed them into his scalp. His groan reverberated against my mouth, and he nipped my lower lip before kissing it hard. We were gasping, as he pressed his cheek to mine.
“I thought ...” he whispered, his voice guttural. “I thought he would hurt you.” I felt the slight shake of his head against mine. “I couldn’t live with that.”
“You’re the one who almost died. What the hell was that all about?” I teased him, relief making me giddy.
“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking; jumping in front of a gun to protect you.” His chest rumbled against me, as relieved laughter flowed out of him.
I swayed slightly, as I stepped away from him to look around. The room looked like a battle had taken place. My poor bodyguard was still holding the bookcase up, so I had him set it back up and disappear.
“Amazing,” Portia’s father whispered, watching me, while holding his arm. It was hanging at a funny angle, and I suspected his shoulder had been dislocated when he was thrown across the room.
The rest of the room would take a little longer to fix, since the same force I had used to propel my father out had also scattered most of the room’s contents as well. Garvin put his hands on his hips as he gazed at the disaster that was now his living room. “You made a mess,” he told me, frowning.
“Oops,” I said, with
a shrug, my hands up. His lips twisted at my words before he replied, “We even. The glitter incident never happened.” He nodded at me, his finger wagging up and down between us. “You got me?”
I nodded and threw my arms around him, surprising him so much we almost hit the floor. He managed to catch us and hugged me back.
“I was worried,” I muttered against his neck.
“I wasn’t,” he replied simply.
Luke went over to Portia’s father, “I can fix your arm. It’s gonna hurt, though,” he told him, nodding at the arm he was cradling. Her father nodded, and we watched Luke pop the shoulder back into place. Portia’s father nodded in thanks, sweat glistening on his extremely pale face. “It feels better.”
My stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly, reminding me I was starving from all my magical exertions. I crossed my arms over my stomach, attempting to disguise the sound. Garvin wrapped an arm around my shoulders, “I guess we should feed you. In case we need your mad skills again.”
“I’d like to get out of here. Your father is creepy.” Portia said, with a shudder. We all nodded at her words. They didn’t even get the benefit of the shadows snaking around him, but everyone could feel the darkness rolling off him.
We decided to go to Luke’s apartment and piled into the SUV, the engine still running, parked in the circular drive.
“He flew right over the SUV,” Garvin said, admiringly. “It was something else.” I climbed into the passenger seat, so Luke could drive. I wasn’t exhausted like it seemed I should be, but my stomach was cramping from hunger, and I didn’t trust myself to drive, so I let the guy who had recently been dying on Garvin’s living room floor drive.
Luke stopped at a drive-through and ordered half the menu for me and some stuff for everyone else. I inhaled two cheeseburgers before we left the parking lot. Three apple pies, a large fry, and four cheeseburgers later, I felt like I might live, or at least not pass out from hunger. We pulled into Luke’s complex, and I realized they were all staring at me with their food still in bags.
“What? I was hungry!” I told them with a shrug, shoving my wrappers in the empty bag.
“Y’all just don’t know,” Garvin said, with a shake of his head. “She can eat more than she weighs. It’s ridiculous.” He pushed open the car door and hopped out.
They crowded around an old round table in Luke’s kitchen, a table I immediately loved and pictured in my kitchen. They started in on their food, while I wandered around opening cabinet doors and drawers.
“Are you looking for something?” Luke asked, observing me. I shook my head, curious more than anything. He didn’t seem to mind, so I kept going. Surprisingly, he had more stuff than I did. Kitchen gadgets and even dishtowels filled the drawers. Exotic spices were lined up neatly in a cabinet next to a variety of canned goods. It looked like a kitchen someone cooked in, so either he had a roommate he hadn’t mentioned, or he was holding out on me with the cooking skills. I nodded approvingly when I found a cabinet containing Apple Jacks. The refrigerator was organized, filled with vegetables, fruits and protein shakes. I wrinkled my nose at some fancy cheeses in one of the drawers. The freezer had several packs of meat and a couple of frozen dinners I typically bought. He was obviously healthier than I was. I preferred high calorie convenience foods myself. The last cabinet on the end held a stash of candy, cookies, and chips, so I grabbed a piece of candy. I hadn't wanted to admit it, but I was still hungry.
Garvin snorted when he saw the candy in my hand, but didn’t mention it when I glared at him. He cleared his throat before saying, “I think we can safely say, Sinclair’s dad is a psychopath.” He looked over at Portia’s father, “Thought you were too, but it seems you can be reasoned with.”
“Thanks?” her dad replied, wincing slightly at the implication. Portia glanced at him, but didn't come to his defense; those wounds would take some time to heal. “The name is Patrick Sullivan, if I’m allowed to join your Scooby gang.”
“Points for the reference, Patrick. You’ll fit in nicely. Especially if you have some intel for us,” Garvin told him, his lightheartedness quickly turning into all business. None of us were sure of Patrick, except, maybe, for me. There were no shadows surrounding him, nothing he had done was cloaked in the darkness surrounding the truly evil. I finished off the candy bar, and Portia pushed the remainder of her fries to me, so I polished those off too.
“Who was shooting at us?” she asked, curiously, coming to the same conclusion I had earlier. If her father had been holding a gun on Luke, he hadn’t been in a position to shoot at us.
“My father,” I answered, almost positive it was true. There was an off chance it was her brother, or even another miscellaneous party we had no idea about, but instinct told me my father had taken the shot. Perhaps he’d been the original shooter, as well.
“But why?” Portia asked, incredulously. “He wanted the trinity.”
“He wanted a trinity he could control,” Patrick replied absentmindedly, going back through the events. “Sinclair has made it very clear she won’t easily fall in line. And she proved today she would make a powerful enemy. Each of you three girls are powerful on your own, but once you unite as the trinity, you would become unstoppable.”
“Isn’t that what we did? I’m not imagining the surge when Quinn came into her power,” I reminded him.
“She came into her power, unlocking the last dormant piece of yours. The three of you are connected in ways I don’t completely understand. A trinity hasn’t existed for over five hundred years. In fact, the last living member of the previous trinity is the one who made the prophecy about you. She was the last known seer, as well,” Patrick explained to us, expanding on some of the information Portia had already given me.
So my sister would be the first seer in five hundred years, I thought, which brought me back to the question of Quinn’s gift.
“What is flight?” I asked, unable to understand what type of gift it would be.
“It could be a couple different things,” he answered, startled by my question. “Actual flight, levitation, or ….” He paused, seeming uncertain. “There have been rumors some witches could teleport. Move themselves from one location to another with their magic. But again … rumors. I’ve never heard or read in our history about anyone with the actual ability to do so.”
“But you’ve heard rumors?” I prodded, wondering if Quinn was the one rumored about.
“Stories really, folktales if you would,” he replied, almost looking embarrassed at mentioning it. He looked at me considering, though. “But all stories have some basis in reality, and seeing you in action, I could believe it to be true.”
“Can we go back to the uniting part?” Luke asked, a bit grimly, his concern I may still be in danger obvious.
“Um, yes, they would need to be physically touching, to complete the trinity.” He gestured to my hand. “The tattoo has the final loop, but not the circle.” I flipped my wrist over to see what he meant. The trinity symbol was there with the three loops, but it did seem to be missing something. He reached over and traced a circle on the symbol. “A united trinity will have the never ending circle.”
“A united trinity?” I parroted. Something in how he phrased it made me believe it held a deeper meaning. He nodded, casting his eyes down.
“A trinity can exist without ever uniting. Death can prevent unification or … disagreement.” He sighed deeply, glancing at each of us. “In a perfect trinity, there is but a single truth that all willingly uphold. But rarely can perfection be found. Often, a trinity can be destroyed by one member choosing not to uphold the truth, or fighting against those they should be united with .... That has always been my fear, because a trinity never allowed to unite completely will throw all of magic and the world into the same discord it feels. Magic connects everything, and a trinity is the representation of that, the physical embodiment of it, you could say.”
“The threads,” I murmured quietly, remembering how they loo
ked, the utter completeness I had felt with the world, as I manipulated them.
“Threads?” he questioned me.
“Yeah, magic,” I replied, looking at him curiously. “It’s threads of light, kind of bluish. They’re tied to everything.”
“You can see the magic?” he asked me, incredulously, and even Portia’s eyes rounded.
“You can’t?” I replied, stunned they couldn’t see the same threads I could. They both shook their heads.
“Oh. Weird,” I breathed, wondering now if the threads I saw were magic. Maybe I had made them up as a representation.
“You are the most powerful witch I’ve ever met. In fact, it’s almost as if you’ve brought it back to life,” he muttered, tapping his fingers on the table. I arched an eyebrow at this statement and Portia replied.
“We’ve all noticed it.” She waved her hand at the room. “Magic. It’s almost as if it was disappearing from the world, or we were losing our ability to use it. But there’s a … vibration now, a sense of magic I’ve never felt before. Almost as if I could touch it. More than that though, it’s like it wants to be used,” she said, slowly, trying to describe the indescribable. Patrick nodded, looking at her with admiration.
“I couldn’t have stated it better myself,” he nodded enthusiastically. “Magic is a force all its own, one certain people have always been able to access, but over the years, it’s as if our access to it has become more and more limited, until today.”
They seemed happy about this outcome, but to my mind it was potentially a bad thing.
“So I’ve given my father even stronger abilities? Just by my existence, by my sister’s existence?” I asked, worried, causing Luke to reach over and grip my hand.
Unbound (The Trinity Sisters Book 1) Page 13
