My lips were dry and they burned when I spoke. “My gift is very different to my aunt’s, sir. I’m not a gold witch.”
“I know your color, child, but that’s not what I asked.” Though his words and stare were sharp, the man’s voice was kind.
I rested my chin on Saoirse’s head. “I’m not sure I can gauge my own strength or the value of my gift, but I hope to one day be as good a woman as my aunt.”
“And you’d face the trial of fire, as she did, to prove the sincerity of your desire to join the coven?” The Coven Leader’s stare was intense.
Patrick clenched his fists but he kept silent. I met the older man’s gaze. “If that’s what it takes to earn the right to join the coven and remain here with my daughter and aunt, yes.”
The Coven Leader nodded. “Indeed.” He turned to the other two members of the Triad. “I’m willing to give the girl a chance to prove herself.”
I inhaled deeply, squeezing my eyes shut. All around me voices began to chatter, but Patrick’s mother’s voice rose above the din. “And when do you propose we perform the ritual, Magnus? We need to focus on the crisis, not waste precious time on unnecessary ceremonies.”
“I agree with you absolutely, Kathleen, which is why the girl won’t be tested by fire. She’s going to prove herself by helping young Trick locate the missing children,” the Coven Leader said. Kathleen opened her mouth again but he held out his palm to halt her words. He turned to the crowd and raised his voice so it carried across the square. “I hereby call this meeting to a close. Those of you with children who wish to seek refuge, please proceed to the Town Hall where the Coven Leader Elect, Kathleen, will see to your needs. Those of you who have missing children, please convene at the door to the Quarter at nine o’clock tomorrow morning to meet with our newly appointed investigatory team. Thank you all for coming, slán abhaile.”
Kathleen’s cheeks were bright pink as the people around us began to trickle away and she pinched her lips together tightly. “Patrick, I’ll make sure there’s a bed ready for you, will you be joining us for dinner?”
“I very much doubt you’re going to be finished at the Town Hall in time for dinner, I’m afraid, Kathleen. I’m sure Trick will manage to fend for himself without any difficulty. You should hurry, the crowds are on their way.” The Coven Leader gave Aoife a warm smile and squeezed Patrick’s arm as he waved Kathleen and the other Triad witch away from the square. I thought he was going to leave without saying another word, but as soon as Kathleen had been swallowed by the crowd he spun toward me again and bent his neck. “You’ve got until the new moon before I pass the mantle of Coven Leader onto Kathleen, my girl. Not everyone is as fond of a gamble as I am—don’t waste any time.”
Before I could thank him, he was gone, leaving me staring at his silver hair as he weaved through the thinning crowd. Every ounce of energy drained from my bones and Saoirse’s warm little body suddenly felt twice as heavy. But I didn’t put her down. She caught my face between her two pudgy hands and squeezed it tightly, landing a sloppy kiss on my mouth. Aoife rested her head on my shoulder. “You got any kisses for your aunty?” Saoirse was too absorbed with pulling my cheeks to listen so I turned and planted a slobbery, toddler-style kiss on Aoife’s face instead. She snorted and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. Her eyes darkened as she pulled herself upright and looked from me to Patrick. “Do you want to fill me in on what happened today or do I need a stiff whiskey first?”
“You don’t drink,” I said.
“I might make an exception.” She narrowed her eyes at Patrick. “I nearly took a shot of Nick’s vodka to settle my nerves this morning when I heard from this boyo. Three years, Patrick Joyce—no letter, no phone call, yet here you are.”
“Here I am,” Patrick repeated, offering neither explanation nor apology.
Aoife smiled and patted his arm. “And I’m very grateful to see you, pet.” She tipped her head toward two older ladies that were waiting at the edge of the square. “Come on, Peggy and Elizbeth have offered us lodging for as long as we need and their place isn’t far from here. We can talk after we’re fed and watered.”
She started off at a brisk pace, despite the cane, and Patrick and I trailed behind. I hummed Saoirse’s favorite lullaby into her ear and she snuggled into the crook of my neck, sucking on two of her fingers. Patrick was silent for the first few steps, watching me whisper into my sleepy toddler’s ear. When she started to snore on my shoulder I gave him a long stare. “So, your mother is going to be the next Coven Leader?”
“Foster mother,” Patrick said. I raised one eyebrow and he relented. “Yes. My foster mother is going to the next Coven Leader.”
“You’re full of secrets, Patrick Joyce. You knew the I.G.S. agents outside The Paper Heart, you’ve got rune tokens in your pockets, your foster mother is the new coven leader, and you fall down rabbit holes when you’re not at medical school.” I opened my mouth to say something else and then snapped it shut again like a frog catching flies.
Patrick’s mouth lifted at one corner. “What do you want to know, Lois Lane?”
“Was your foster mother part of the Triad when your petition to join the Free Witches was refused?” I asked. Patrick nodded and I let out a low whistle. “And the other two witches out-voted her? That sucks. Must have been really hard for her to keep working with them.”
Patrick gave me a wry smile. “Hardly, she cast the deciding vote.”
I stopped short. “And denied you entry to the coven?” Patrick nodded again, and I winced. “Ouch,” I said. “That’s cold.”
“Nah, it wasn’t exactly a surprise. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like a kick to the teeth with a pair of steel-toed boots, but I didn’t really expect anything else from her.” Patrick shrugged. “Everything Kathleen does is in the name of protecting the coven and keeping it strong. That’s the whole reason she started the initiative to rescue weird little kids like me from the human world—in case some of us were witches waiting to come into powers that could be used to strengthen the coven.”
“And were they? Witches, I mean—the little kids she rescued?” Saoirse slumped heavily against my chest as she drifted into a deeper sleep.
Patrick rubbed his jaw. “Some of them. Others were fae, or nymphs, or some other type of super—I remember one girl turned out to be an undine. If they’re witches, the coven finds them homes here, and if they’re not, they try to find them a foster family with people of their own race. ”
“But not for you? The coven is happy to keep the human kids as well as the witches?” I asked.
“No,” Patrick said. “No, the coven isn’t a big fan of keeping humans in the Quarter, but it’s a much bigger challenge to find a family for a true freak than for an orphan fae or selkie. The Free Witches didn’t have much choice but to keep me, and Kathleen did her best to be a parent, she still does—weekly dinners in the city, expensive gifts on my birthday—but it wasn’t really what she’d signed up for. And the coven treated me well. They sent me to private school, paid my university fees. I was a pretty expensive mistake, bet they’re more cautious about the kids they rescue since then. Who wants to be stuck paying for a kid from the wrong race for twenty-one years? If they’d been smart they would have flown me to Vegas a few times a year and made me earn my keep. Freaks can be good money makers.”
Aoife and her two friends stopped outside a tall, thin building with an old-style sweet shop at street level. Peggy unlocked a green painted door to the left of the shop and pushed it open to reveal a narrow stairway. Patrick scraped his shoe on the damp pavement as Aoife and the ladies disappeared inside. “The coven tracked down my birth mother when I was about fifteen. Strangely enough, she passed on the opportunity to meet her weird, future-telling spotty teenager when Kathleen told her about my little talent.”
I exhaled into Saoirse’s silky soft hair and wracked my brain to think of a fitting response but all that came was, “I’m sorry, Patrick.”
Patrick
gave me a tired smile. “For what? It’s not your fault I was born like this. You should get inside and rest with the little one, it’s been a long day.” He stared down at Saoirse’s sleeping face as he began to walk backward. “I was lucky, really. If the Free Witches hadn’t rescued me, who knows where I’d be now? Probably locked up in a psych ward in Dublin.” He waved his phone in the air and shot me one of those rare grins that transformed his entire face. “I’ll pick you up at a quarter to nine tomorrow morning, partner. Don’t do anything crazy like running into a parking lot this time, okay?”
“Only if you promise not to skulk around in the shadows like a creep, okay?” I said. Patrick chuckled and pulled his hood over his fair hair. He was almost at the corner of the street by the time I called after him. “Patrick?”
He stopped and raised his eyebrows. I hugged Saoirse closer to my chest. “Why are you doing this? Helping those families? Helping me? Of all the visions you could have, why one about my father looking for me?”
Patrick stared at me from the other end of the street and every inch of my skin shivered. Then, without a word, he disappeared into the darkening evening—down the rabbit hole, where I couldn’t follow.
Chapter Ten
“Magnus always had a lovely behind—like two eggs in a hankie. Not my personal preference, male bits and pieces never appealed to me, but I can see why somebody who is attracted to men might want to grab hold of his buttocks and give them a little squeeze.” I choked on a mouthful of milky tea and grabbed a linen napkin from the table to cover my violent fit of coughing. Elizabeth lifted the teapot and poured me a fresh cup of tea. Her gray hair was styled in perfect waves that fell to her shoulders and her lipstick was a vivid shade of purple. “Don’t die on us, child. At least not before you get a chance to examine Magnus’ bottom yourself so you can see what I mean.”
I snorted into my napkin. “I can’t believe you’re discussing the Coven Leader’s bum over breakfast.” I raised my eyebrows at Aoife as she peeled a banana for Saoirse, who was happily smearing yogurt all over the tray of her highchair. “Is this what you were doing every time you went to the Silent Quarter on important business? Drinking tea and talking smut with Peggy and Elizabeth?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Destiny,” Aoife said. She smirked. “Sometimes we drink coffee.”
“Or wine,” Peggy added. Her plump face was surrounded by a halo of baby-soft white curls.
“Or sex on the beach.” Elizabeth pointed to a framed photograph of my aunt and her two friends sipping brightly colored cocktails through swirling straws.
I widened my eyes in feigned-horror and nudged Aoife with my elbow. “Aunt Aoife, you told me you didn’t like the taste of alcohol.”
“Mine didn’t have any alcohol, Destiny, it was a virgin,” Aoife said. Peggy snickered as she reached for another slice of toast and Aoife tapped her friend on the hand. “You and your filthy mind! Keep it clean, ladies. Destiny doesn’t like intimate talk.”
“Hey! I’m not a prude, I just don’t like intimate talk about the Coven Leader’s backside, okay? Especially not in front of my two-year-old,” I said.
Peggy wiped Saoirse’s tray and hands clean with wet wipes and then deposited a huge pile of fresh fruit in front of her. Saoirse giggled and clapped her hands with joy as she prepared to smash them to a pulp. It had been months since she’d sat in a highchair and she was lapping up the attention from not one, but three doting ladies who were fully prepared to ignore what mommy said and spoil her rotten. I took a long sip of tea and watched Peggy and Elizabeth compete with Aoife for Saoirse’s attention. Saoirse squealed with delight when Peggy used magic to make a strawberry dance with her banana. I smiled and sank back into the comfortable kitchen chair. I was lucky Aoife had such kind friends. Without the two energetic old women, I had no idea where we would have spent the night.
Elizabeth shuffled her chair a little closer to mine and sat back to watch the fruity magic show Peggy and Aoife were performing for a wide-eyed Saoirse. “Your daughter is a treasure; it’s been a while since we’ve had so much life in this house.”
Elizabeth and Peggy’s home was a four-story gray stone townhouse on what appeared to be one of the busiest streets in the Silent Quarter. According to what Aoife had told me during our fireside chat the night before, the building had been in Peggy’s family’s possession since the Quarter came into existence but it was only since Peggy inherited it that the bottom level had been converted into a sweet shop. Peggy looked like exactly the kind of lady who should own a fairy tale candy store—round and soft with bright eyes and a jolly chuckle. Elizabeth, on the other hand, looked more like an aging movie star.
“Thank you for taking us in, Elizabeth, and for the letting Saoirse use your grandchildren’s things.” I looked at Elizabeth. “I’m very grateful.”
“Hush, it’s nothing. We’re happy to see them being used. There was a time this old house was never empty but the last few years…well, you’ve made Peggy a happy old lady having a little one to run around after again.” Elizabeth pressed the fine porcelain teacup against her lips but didn’t drink. “When your children are small, you think you’ll never have another moment to yourself. Then, you blink, and you have nothing but moments alone. Life is funny like that.”
“Your kids don’t get home much?” I asked.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Not since the trouble with the missing children, no. Our eldest daughter left the coven to work with the Guild and our youngest daughter and her mates relocated to Australia seven months ago with their children. They’re with the Sydney coven now. We’re going to spend the holidays with Sarah and the children in Australia—have our Christmas dinner in our bikinis. And the twins will be home for the new moon to see the new Triad instated. Our sons wouldn’t miss out on a party for all the tea in China.”
“Sounds like they take after their mothers.” I tipped my head toward a photograph of a young Elizabeth and Peggy wearing micro-mini skirts and dancing with three handsome men.
Elizabeth gave a throaty laugh. “And their fathers! We knew how to have fun, that’s for sure. When I fell in love with Peggy, I knew she had other mates, but I never had eyes for anyone else but her. I thought I’d hate her other lovers, especially since they were men. I always told the old farts I’d outlive the three of them and get Peggy to myself in the end.” She leaned toward me with a lopsided smile and lowered her voice. “I never expected to miss the bastards; I guess they had the last laugh.”
I smiled and took a slug of tea to clear my swollen throat. I hoped Peggy and Elizabeth’s kids knew how lucky they were to have grown up in a family so full of love. In my father’s clan, arranged mating wasn’t compulsory, but it was still common. And if my father saw a pair or a pack that had formed their own bond, he’d often sweep in and take the female for himself instead—he was the kind of god who believed he had a right to have the first taste of everything sweet in his clan. He was incapable of understanding that the mating would be bitter without the love that bound it. My eyes burned as I watched Aoife patiently clean Saoirse down and dress her in fresh clothes. Although her injuries aged her, my aunt was only in her forties, still young enough to have a family of her own.
I set my cup down on the table. “Elizabeth, was Aoife really checking out the Coven Leader’s ass?”
“Perhaps not, we were teasing her a little,” Elizabeth said. Her eyes danced wickedly and she raised her voice so the others could hear her. “But Magnus most definitely took a cheeky peek at hers, didn’t he, Aoife?”
My aunt and Peggy shifted their chairs closer to the table as Saoirse lay down on the carpet to examine the miniature toy farm Peggy had retrieved from one of the spare rooms. Aoife nibbled on the end of a strawberry and frowned. “Didn’t who do what?”
“Didn’t Coven Leader Magnus have a good look at your arse?” I said. Aoife rolled her eyes and took another bite of her strawberry, but there was no disguising the flush creeping up her neck.
“Oh, Magnus’ crush on Aoife is old news.” Peggy grinned as she bent over and rifled through the contents of a low wooden cabinet, retrieving a luminous pink photograph album. Aoife covered her face while the older woman flicked through the yellowing pages. “Ha, I knew I had it somewhere. There they are, your aunt and Magnus at the graduation ball from Dagda Prep. That’s our Sarah in the green dress and your aunt is in black—wasn’t she a beauty?”
“Yes,” I whispered, stroking the Polaroid snapshot. The image was slightly out of focus and Aoife was facing her date instead of the camera, but there was no denying her striking beauty. Her brown hair fell in deep waves around her waist and her frame was strong and athletic. In profile, I could make out the curve of her full lips and the deep dimple in her cheek. I struggled to reconcile the person in the snapshot with the thin, pain-lined woman I knew, and yet something about the girl in the photograph was familiar. As if I’d only seen her yesterday. I frowned at my aunt. “I didn’t know you attended Dagda Prep?”
Aoife and Peggy glanced at each before my aunt answered. She smiled at the photograph. “I did. Your mother did too. It was a very different place when we were students—supernaturals of every race traveled from around the globe to attend the school.” Aoife lifted her gaze to meet mine. “Your father’s clan was very different too. He accepted fealty from all races until—until things changed.”
I pulled my chair closer to her. “What things?”
“There was—” Aoife broke off and looked at the older women. “An incident about twenty-five years ago. Your father had been suffering from paranoia for a few decades—Morrigan’s prophecy foretells the end of the immortals and people said after the incident your father was convinced the time of reckoning was at hand. He expelled all those who weren’t of his bloodline from the clan, except those who were willing to be marked with his blood.”
Wicked Destiny_A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy Series Page 8
