by Denise Lynn
And he’d grieved over those things for quite a while. In truth, there were still moments when despair threatened to drop him into the agonizing pits of hell.
He wished there was a way for him to help the changeling avoid the same fate, but he knew that wasn’t possible. St. George’s daughter wasn’t ever going to give her heart to the dragon. It didn’t matter whether they rescued the child or not; it wasn’t in her nature.
Succubus or not, she was the spawn of a vampire. A heartless, soulless creature who cared nothing for the emotions or needs of others. That was the way she’d been raised. And that was how she would raise the dragonette—it’s what was familiar and normal to her.
Now that was something Aelthed couldn’t permit. To keep a dragon from going rogue, it needed to learn and understand the value in feelings, human feelings. Otherwise, what was to keep it from ruthlessly killing those smaller and weaker than itself?
She would never willingly surrender the child, and since she wasn’t going to remain with the changeling, something had to be done; someone would have to intervene.
“Aelthed, love, what are you stewing about?” Danielle’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I swear there’s smoke streaming from your cube.”
“Ah, you’ve returned.” He leaned away from the wall of the cube. “What were you able to learn?”
She dropped down onto the bed and scooped the cube off her nightstand to hold it close to her chest. “Well, Hoffel is a dimwit.”
Aelthed chuckled. “I doubt that. It’s more likely that he’s playing a dimwit to keep you from discovering anything.”
She issued a decisive hmmphhff before asking, “Do you actually think the man possesses any level of intelligence?”
“I’m not certain, but the changeling, his mate and I do agree that Hoffel is a vindictive, petty, vicious little man and worth watching.”
“That’s what Braeden thinks, too. Cameron isn’t at all certain the baron is dangerous, but feels that it would be wiser to kill him and not have to worry about it.”
“Yes, Cameron would think that.”
“Well, he does like to take the direct route to solving problems.”
“Are you sure that’s really it? I’ve always thought he just enjoyed ridding the world of bad guys.”
Danielle’s soft laugh floated against him, leaving him awash with unrequited longing so intense he had to fight off a shiver.
“What’s wrong, Aelthed? Something doesn’t feel quite right.”
The concern in her tone brought a sigh to his lips. She’d been far too perceptive of late. “Nothing you need worry about.”
His cube moved slowly. “My love.” The warmth of her breath let him know that she held his prison near her lips. “I wish more than anything in the world that I could hold you, too.”
* * *
Sean waved Caitlin through the open door in the back of the work shed and into the tunnel beyond.
Someone—a worker, or one of his brothers—had lit the torches lining the wall, so at least they weren’t walking blindly down the tunnel in the dark.
Caitlin trailed a fingertip along the damp wall. “What is this place?”
“It leads to Aelthed’s workroom.”
“Aelthed? The druid?”
“That’s the only Aelthed I know.”
Caitlin wasn’t in the mood for answers bordering on sarcasm. She shot him a frown over her shoulder, but before she could say anything, the tunnel opened up into a circular room.
More torches lined the walls, and lit candles had been placed here and there to provide light. She walked slowly around the perimeter of the chamber. A layer of dust and grime coated countless ancient jars and containers on the shelves.
The hard-packed dirt floor was littered with broken shards of pottery, glass and other bits of objects she couldn’t identify—and probably didn’t want to know what they were.
In the center of the room was a wooden table—likely a casting altar from the items gathered on the worn top. She glanced down at the silver scrying bowl already filled with water.
“Sean, what are we doing here?”
He stood behind the table. “There’s something I want to show you.”
And he couldn’t have done that elsewhere? “It has to be done in a medieval chamber?”
“No, but I like the added atmosphere.”
She didn’t. It reminded her too much of the High Council and the black magic they called forth on occasion.
“Couldn’t we...”
He grasped her wrist and gently tugged her toward him. “Humor me.”
She couldn’t help roll her eyes, but she joined him, standing between him and the table.
Sean encircled her with his arms, making her feel safe. His hands stretched out over the bowl.
“You do this often?”
“Shhh.” He waved his hands over the bowl.
The water started to move. Slowly at first, wavering back and forth until it settled into circular ripples coming out from the center as if a pebble had been dropped onto the surface. Then it rippled faster, before it flattened to the smooth clearness of a mirror.
“Watch.”
She saw an image begin to form—faint at first, but then it grew clearer, more defined. Sean moved his hands farther apart, letting her see more of the water’s surface and more of the image.
It was like she was flying. Below was the ocean—the white-capped waves rolled toward land, and high on a craggy cliff were the ruins of a castle.
She flew closer and closer until she could make out the cutaways of narrow window openings. Then she slowed and flew lower—keeping out of sight perhaps?
“Was this you?”
“Yes. Keep watching.”
The fool had gone to the Learned’s stronghold.
A sound rose up from the bowl. High pitched, faint, barely discernable, so she inched higher, nearer to the window. Then she heard it—
The cry of a baby.
Caitlin gripped his forearms and held her breath as she leaned forward, trying to get closer to the image on the water.
In what seemed inch-by-inch increments that took hours to cover, she rose. Finally, just when she thought she’d go mad from anticipation, she was just outside the window.
And there he was—her son.
Screaming down the castle walls. He was displaying a fine temper—one worthy of a dragon.
Caitlin reached toward the water, aching to touch even the reflection of her child, but before she could get close enough to graze his image, Sean stopped her, holding her back, preventing her from getting the tiniest bit of comfort.
She wanted to scream and rage as her child was doing, but the only sound she could make past the thickness in her throat was a ragged whine of despair.
“Just look. If you touch it, the image will dissolve.”
She didn’t know whether to fight against the strong arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her fast against his chest, or to melt into the safety and comfort they offered.
Her child’s cries wiped the question from her mind. She didn’t care about the arms around her; the only thing she could focus on was her son. She stared at him, relieved that he appeared unharmed—angry, but whole and sound.
As if he felt his mother’s presence, he turned his face to her. The brilliant green, tear-filled eyes looked directly at her. His face was red from his tantrum, making the shock of light blond hair appear even lighter.
The nursemaid holding him turned away from the window, and Caitlin found herself pulling away from the view through no choice of her own.
“No!”
The harder she tried to stay near the window, the faster she seemed to retreat, until the window, the castle, the ocean, vanished from sight.
Her chest tightened until she could no longer draw in air. Her arms ached from the emptiness she didn’t think she could bear a moment longer.
The chamber spun into nothing but a cold, empty blackness.
Chapter 11
Sean caught her before she fell to the floor. He reached out to his brother. “Braeden, a little assist, please.”
The flames of the torches and candles flickered out at almost the same instant Braeden spelled him and Caitlin to his bedroom.
He laid her on the bed and checked her pulse. The strong and steady beat reassured him that she had fainted, and nothing serious was wrong. Which was what he’d assumed, but he would rather be certain.
Sean brushed her hair from her face, his fingers lingering of their own accord on the silken strands. And when she started to rouse, he spelled her back to sleep. He had things to do. He didn’t want her around to argue with him, nor did he want to have to worry about what she was up to.
It would piss her off, but her mood was the least of his concerns.
He closed the door behind him when he left the bedroom and stood in the middle of the living room, looking around at his possessions. This had been his suite of rooms, his apartment—his home, on Mirabilus, since he’d turned eighteen. It would be strange not living in it.
But he wasn’t going to share living quarters with Caitlin anymore. Not even for the few remaining days she’d be here.
Once their son was back in her arms, she would look for, and find, some way to escape. He didn’t want her to feel as though she had to escape. He’d rather she simply leave, openly—freely. Perhaps if he didn’t fight her on it, didn’t make her feel as if she needed to run away, she would keep him apprised of her whereabouts.
He couldn’t get back the time he’d already missed, but he’d like to know his son. He wanted to be there from now on, to see him take his first step, to go off on his first day of school—he didn’t want to miss any of it, not the good, nor the bad...or the hard.
And he couldn’t do any of that if he didn’t know where Caitlin had taken the boy.
There was nothing in the living room or kitchen that he’d need in another suite. The one he’d chosen for his temporary use came fully furnished. However, he did want some of the things from his office.
Sean flipped on the desk lamp and started putting a pile of things together on the top of his desk. He removed the grimoire and two pendants from her bag, but left Ascalon in place. The weapon wasn’t his, and he doubted that she’d be using it on anyone here.
Other than his laptop and cell, the only additional item he wanted with him was the amethyst pendant. That gem was probably in one of Caitlin’s pockets.
A pale, pulsing glow from the desk caught his attention. He walked over and flipped open the grimoire. The last picture they’d seen had been the one where he and his two brothers had been killed by the Learned. He turned that page over, unwilling to dwell on the implication.
The scene forming now was once again of the two women from the twelfth century. They were fitting their pendants into depressed areas on a wooden box. He leaned down to study the picture closely. It appeared that once they had the gemstones locked in place that they turned them in a specific order, and the top of the box then slid off the base.
Sean didn’t know where the box was located. He’d never seen it. Was it, or did it represent, the cube Aunt Danielle kept close at hand—the one that supposedly still trapped the soul of the ancient High Druid Aelthed?
He and his brothers had never witnessed any proof that the druid’s soul still did exist in the cube, but they’d had no reason not to believe their aunt.
Sean studied the page again. Apparently, he did still reside there. Why else would the grimoire have drawn the same scene more than once? More apparently, the grimoire wanted the druid freed.
He closed the grimoire and put it, along with the two pendants, into a carryall, shut off the light and left the suite.
The moment he closed and locked the outer door behind him, his beast’s eyes opened. Sean sighed then warned, “Don’t start.”
Thankfully, the dragon’s look was curious more than anything else. Even when Sean went into the suite a floor above, the creature remained calm, which actually surprised him.
Maybe the fact that they were still close to Caitlin—only the thickness of her ceiling and his floor separating them—helped keep the dragon from throwing a fit about no longer sharing a suite. Or perhaps realization hadn’t fully set into the dragon’s mind yet.
Not willing to bring it up, in thoughts or words, Sean dumped his bag in the office and then went into the bedroom.
The sound of light snoring let him know she was there before he turned on the light. He backed quietly out of the room.
Sliding open the glass doors, he stepped out onto the balcony. “What the hell are you doing?”
He was grateful that no one was around to see or hear what would appear to be a one-sided conversation. In his mind, he could see the dragon sit back on his haunches, cock his head and look at him in confusion.
So, he didn’t know anything about Caitlin having been moved? How was that possible?
He took a breath and then spilled what was going on. “I left her. We aren’t going to stay in the same suite or sleep in the same bed anymore.”
The dragon glanced toward the bedroom.
“No kidding. I know she’s there. She’s not supposed to be. You need to move her back to her suite—our old one.”
It was pretty sad when his beast looked at him as if he’d lost his wits. Great. If the dragon didn’t spell her to this suite, then who did?
He knew that neither Braeden nor Cam would have done so; they wouldn’t interfere like that. And Danielle, even though she wouldn’t hesitate to interfere, didn’t have the ability. Neither did either of his sisters-in-law.
Sean frowned. No anger, no outrage, no regret from the dragon at the news that he was leaving its mate? Nothing?
Something wasn’t right. The creature may not have moved her here, but it was a safe bet it knew who did and wasn’t sharing.
“It isn’t going to work. She will be leaving and you can’t stop her.”
The dragon narrowed its emerald eyes.
“If you try to stop her, we’ll lose all contact with the boy. Do you understand that? Is that what you want?”
Other than a slight slant, the expression didn’t change—it remained focused and narrowed, like it knew something Sean didn’t.
How was that possible?
This beast, cursed as it may be, was a part of him. Hell, it was him.
Sean dragged a hand through his hair and spun back inside the apartment. This was not happening. It couldn’t be happening. Because if it was, then the only logical explanation was that he’d finally lost his mind.
Grabbing his bag from the office, he left the suite and returned to his own a floor below. Without pausing to do more than toss his bag on the sofa, he strode to the bedroom door and then stopped with his hand on the doorknob. What was he going to do if she was in there?
What could he do?
Nothing other than go sleep in his office.
He cracked open the door just a hair and felt his shoulders slump as the sound of Caitlin’s steady breaths brushed across his ears.
* * *
Aelthed scratched at his beard. It didn’t make any sense. How was the succubus materializing from room to room? Who was responsible for the spell?
It wasn’t the cursed changeling; he’d sensed no such power in him. He could move objects—a bag, a sword, or things like that, but not a person. Nor was it the other two changelings; they were each in bed with their wife. Danielle was fast asleep.
So who?
And how did the cursed dragon know?
He agreed with the changeling; that shouldn’t be possible. The man and the beast were one. Aelthed rubbed his temples and revised that thought. The man and the beast were supposed to be one. In normal changeling-beast combinations they shared a mind. Each knew the thoughts of the other.
But there was nothing normal about this combination.
“St. George will set you free.”
He spun around in the cen
ter of his cube. There was no one there, so from where had the voice come?
A glimmering image flickered in and out of view.
Aelthed stared hard at the image. It was the gypsy mage—the one who’d spoken the curse. And the one who had the power to write in his grimoire.
He fisted his hands at his sides, shouting, “What do you want?”
Laughter filled his cell. A tinkling, soft laugh, followed by the swish of skirts and jingle of tiny bells.
“Trying...to help...old man.” Her words faded in and out, as did her form.
Aelthed snorted. For all the power she had, she certainly wasn’t able to hold her form very well.
A silken caress, a scarf perhaps, brushed across his face, followed by another laugh. He jerked away from the touch. He’d not felt contact with another being in over eight hundred years, and he didn’t welcome the intrusion.
The air swirled around him as the still-glimmering image moved closer. She extended an arm, and he leaned away.
“I thank you to keep your hands to yourself.”
This time her laugh raced against his ear, and her fingertips stroked his beard.
“Stop that!”
“Aelthed, who are you fighting with in there?”
Danielle’s voice was filled with concern.
“That blasted gypsy.”
“Oh!”
He closed his eyes at the shocked dismay in her exclamation. Before he could explain, he felt his cube thud down onto a hard surface and bounce once before coming to a teetering stop.
“Dan—”
The slamming of a door cut off his words.
Aelthed glared at the half-formed gypsy. “So much for helping this old man.”
“Sorry.”
At least she didn’t laugh.
“I don’t need your help, so why don’t you go actually help the abomination you created instead of just playing with him.”
To his relief, the glimmery image faded, leaving him alone to figure out how to make peace with a woman he could only talk to through wooden walls.
* * *
Sean stared at the grimoire open on the desk before him. The newly forming picture of a cube—like Aunt Dani’s prized possession—appeared slowly on the page. But this time, instead of just a plain box, there was a cutaway allowing him to see into the cube. He wasn’t too surprised to see that it wasn’t empty. But it was odd to see an actual man trapped inside.
