by Abigail Owen
They dragged him, kicking and screaming, into the water, pulling him to the center of the pond, where they forced him under. His scream turned into a gurgle of terror as his head submerged. They held him under until the thrashing stopped, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he stopped his struggles. To be sure he was dead, they kept him under even longer, until the water reeked with the taint of death.
Greyson released Marrok’s memories and turned to his mate. The energy required to access Tala’s memories surprised him, as the amount was greater than what he’d needed for her mate, which was interesting, but irrelevant to his purposes. Tala’s memories confirmed Marrok’s. Finally, he turned to Castor. By the time he finished with the demigod, Greyson’s entire body shook from the effort. He clenched his fists at the sensation, trying to keep the spots dancing behind his eyes at bay.
And his frustration had only grown. At least now he knew what the witch looked like. However, none of the four had seen what happened to her after Kaios’s death. They’d been telling him the truth, but now he’d seen with his own eyes, through their perspective, but still confirmation.
Damn. Now what?
He’d hoped some clue might present itself, giving him a next step in his hunt. But no fucking luck.
“Are you protecting her?” He couldn’t ignore the evidence that pointed to the obvious.
“Yes.” Leia said. No hesitation.
“Why? She helped attack you. Because of her, Kaios could’ve killed you.”
“She didn’t want to help him. He was making her. Even you could see that.”
Greyson couldn’t deny the truth of the statement, not now that he’d experienced the scene for himself through their memories. All four of them had come to the same conclusion.
“Why not turn her over to us, though?”
Leia gave him a direct stare. “She’s terrified of the Mage High Council. Afraid they’ll execute her first and ask questions later. Like you did with the warlock who attacked my sisters.”
CHAPTER 13
Death warmed over probably felt better than Rowan did at that moment. She’d just spent the last hour doing everything she could to alter the memories Greyson walked through to make sure he wouldn’t recognize her.
Now the reflection staring back at her in the bathroom mirror with her mismatched eyes showed a woman with skin a sickly shade of grey, lips pinched and pale, and a dew of perspiration across her brow. For the second time in as many minutes, her stomach heaved, and she pitched over the toilet. Not that she had anything left to empty.
Dry heaving sucked more than vomiting.
And all she could think was she needed to get her ass out to the kitchen to finish getting dinner ready for Greyson’s guests. Four people who could give her away with a simple wrong comment or look.
Delilah assured her the four powerful individuals in the house had sworn to protect her secrets. Still, Rowan had done what she could to disguise her appearance. Damn good thing she’d magically bugged Greyson’s office. As soon as she’d heard him invite Leia and the others to the house, she’d done a number on her hair, skin, and eyes.
Even now, she grinned at the mental image of Grey’s shock when he discovered her. Lying to his face about what happened, without bursting out laughing, had been a feat in and of itself.
Forcing herself to move, she leaned over the sink, splashing cool water on her skin. What she really needed right now was sugar. Lots of it. She gave her pitiful reflection a grimace. She’d fix it, but, unfortunately, if she used more magic, she’d pass out. As things stood, she was barely standing anyway.
The magic to change her appearance had barely taxed her energy, but that was nothing compared to what she’d just put her body through.
Earlier, she’d brought the girls home as planned, arriving by the transportation key Grey had provided to convey her and the girls to and from Persephone’s. Not wanting to be seen, Rowan had cautiously let Chloe, Atleigh, and Lachlyn into the house, holding up a finger to her lips to indicate the need to remain quiet.
She’d listened for a long moment and concluded Grey’s meeting wasn’t yet over, and he was in the family room. So she turned to the girls, waving her hand in a shooing motion. “Your dad’s not done yet. Go on upstairs and work on your homework until I call you down for dinner.”
With long faces the three turned to the stairs. “Will we at least get to see the demigod?” Chloe grumbled.
Ah. That explained why they’d been eager to hurry home. Rowan narrowed her eyes. “They’re staying for dinner, so yes. You’ll meet all of your father’s guests.”
Smiles of glee followed the sound of elephants stamping up the old wood stairs. Nothing like subtle signs they were home. She waited for Grey to check, but he didn’t come out.
If they were still in a meeting, maybe she could listen in? Do more to help cover her tracks?
With not an ounce of remorse, she quietly let herself back outside. She didn’t need to be caught performing such a complicated spell. One Tanya had taught her. One which took both effort and skill. One which, if she were to hold it too long, could become permanent. But Tanya had said five days, so Rowan figured ten or twenty minutes would be fine.
Drawing on the energy generated by the natural world—the friction of the wind over the earth, the dissipating warmth of the sun, the solid presence of the mountains under her feet—she whispered her demonic words.
Peta babkama luruba ma ina etuti asbu kima bu’idu.
Open the gate for me that I may enter here and dwell in darkness as a wraith.
A ghost, but one tied to a still-living body.
Cold seeped into her skin, then deeper into her gut and finally into her very bones. As her body passed into the netherworld where spirits lingered, her soul shuddered, clinging to her humanity, her memories. Finally, the world turned to muted shades, as though a sheer curtain had been drawn over her eyes.
Her first few steps felt as though lead boots had been strapped to her feet, but as she moved, the sensation lessened. Slowly, she glided through the door and into the house, down the hall, and to the family room where Grey sat with four people she might never be able to forget.
Even in her half-dead ghostly form, with her emotions muted much like her sight, the regret which lingered every day over her part in Kaios’s evil throbbed through her. If the High Council ever found out werewolves and other types of shifters could control a Aneval…Rowan shuddered at the thought, fear reaching her even here. The more powerful the creature, the more they could control a witch whose main gift involved speaking to animals—something about the connection involved.
All she knew was Kaios, an ancient and extremely powerful werewolf, had only to whisper a command and her body would follow while her mind remained horribly disconnected, unable to control her actions in any way.
The Council would have her put down like a rabid beast. Then they’d go after every other Aneval. The threat posed by such a weakness would surely be deemed too great to risk leaving in the open. If they didn’t kill Anevals, they’d imprison them. To keep them safe, of course, but the result would be the same regardless of the intentions.
Thank heavens the four before her had managed to kill that bastard werewolf, releasing Rowan from his grasp.
Grey broke the silence she’d walked in on. “The Council wanted me to use a truth spell on you.”
All four people in the room stiffened. “But you didn’t?” Castor asked.
Greyson dropped his hand. “No. But, with your permission, I’d like to cast a spell to review your memories of the event.”
“NO!” Rowan shouted. Surprise and gut-wrenching fear punching the denial from her.
A window behind Grey slammed open as a gust of wind assailed the house. She wasn’t sure who was more shocked by that window busting open, her or Grey. Then, again, she knew what had caused it, and he didn’t. Unfortunately, the small interruption didn’t stop him from accessing their memories.
One by
one, Leia, Marrok, Castor, and Tala each submitted to having Grey in their heads. They’d each tried to keep from showing her, so he wouldn’t recognize her. However, Greyson Masters was one of the most powerful mages she’d encountered and had moved past their blocks and attempts with ease, seeing exactly what he needed to see.
Rowan, panicked and unable to think of a better way, drew on every single ounce of energy available to her in the spirit realm—an unusual amount. This his house must be a portal for many dead. She even drew from the four powerful people before her, as much as she could, separated from them by the veil of death.
In each memory involving her, she changed the shape of her face, the shade of her eyes. She couldn’t do much more and only prayed her actions had been enough. Finally, Grey had finished. With the last miniscule bit of energy she possessed, Rowan drifted outside and pushed herself back into the world of the living, a sensation akin to rubbing sandpaper over her skin.
A close thing. Getting out of the spirit realm had been like moving through hot tar, the world trying to hold her back, so exhausted she almost didn’t have enough fight in her to do it.
But she made it out.
Then she’d snuck around the house to the basement entrance. Now here she stood, shaking and weak, in her bathroom.
“Rowan?” Grey’s voice drifted down the stairs. “Are you down there?”
She cracked the door. “Yes,” she croaked. Then she cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and tried again. “Yes.”
“I thought I heard you come in with the girls. Our meeting is over.”
“I’ll be right up,” she called back.
How am I going to show my face? Grey will know something’s horribly wrong. Granted, he wasn’t feeling too hot himself. Performing that memory spell on one creature as powerful as a demigod had to be taxing. Performing them on four powerful persons should’ve knocked him on his ass. She should know; she’d done something similar.
A snuffling sound at her back door had her whirling to see the shadow of a massive figure outside. Now what?
Witch? The low rumbling word came from the creature on the other side. An animal had come to her?
Slowly and haltingly, she stumbled to the door. Opening it, she gasped to find a massive grizzly bear standing on the tiny porch, close enough to smell his hot breath, feel the warmth of his massive body. It was oddly tempting to snuggle into his thick brown fur, despite the trepidation pumping her sluggish blood through her at a slightly faster rate. Would he feel soft or coarse against her skin?
You need help, the bear said.
How did you know?
We can sense you. You need help.
Did the bear even know what he offered? Rowan bit her lip. She’d never drawn energy from an animal before, but a creature as massive as this, filled with raw natural power…. Could he help?
Reaching out a hand, she placed it against his shoulder. Soft. He’s so soft.
Through sheer force of will, she drew the energy from him, from his life force. She had to be careful not to draw so much she left him vulnerable, just enough, thank the fates, to help her. Her body remained exhausted, but at least she was functioning.
Reluctant to break the connection, she slowly drew her hand back. “Thank you.”
Danger comes this way. You should run.
Fear again spiked inside her, the taste of it acrid in her mouth, although that might be the vomit from earlier. “What danger?”
I don’t know. I’ve heard only whispers.
“Who would know?”
The birds who can fly highest.
A falcon or an eagle perhaps? “Again, I thank you.”
The bear bowed his giant head regally, then turned and lumbered away, blending into the night, a large shadow climbing the hill and finally disappearing into the trees.
“Rowan?” Grey’s voice again drifted down the stairs.
Thankfully, he hadn’t come down to find out what the holdup was. Quickly, she shut her back door. “Coming!”
Getting up the stairs when her legs resembled limp noodles more than flesh and blood took concentrated effort, but she made it. And entered a full kitchen.
“Here she is,” Grey said, as he stepped to her side. “I’d like to introduce you to the woman who keeps my home running like clockwork. This is Rowan McAuliffe.”
As he raised a shaking hand to her back, she gave him a closer look. Wrecked. The man was wrecked. “You need sugar.”
Rather than respond, he tipped his head toward his guests.
Taking the hint, she turned to them, smile fixed. “Lovely to meet you.”
She received smiles in return, though confused ones, and caught Castor’s questioning glance, taking in Rowan’s appearance, and the way Leia dug her elbow into his side.
Which reminded her. Rowan put a self-conscious hand to her hair. “Sorry about the strange look. Normally I’m a red-head, but magic practice went a bit…awry.” She rolled her eyes for effect.
“The pink skin is surprisingly lovely,” Tala said. “But the eyes are a bit…”
“Off-putting?” Rowan grinned. “Sorry about that. Hopefully, it doesn’t ruin your dinner.”
“Not at all,” Leia said, with a pointed look at Castor and Marrok. The werewolf smiled kindly, saying nothing, while the demigod sent his wife a wink, earning him a shake of her head.
“I’ll call the girls down,” Grey said.
Rowan still didn’t like the pallor to his face. “I’ll call them.” But first she went to the drawer which held the candy and pulled out a chocolate bar.
She stuffed it in his hands. “Eat it.”
Then she headed upstairs to get the girls, stuffing her face with the other chocolate bar she’d snagged while getting one for Grey.
The girls eagerly abandoned their homework and followed her down the stairs. She walked into the kitchen, where she was happy to note Grey’s returning color.
“By the gods!”
At Castor’s exclamation, every person in the room turned to face him.
“Cas?” Leia asked.
The demigod’s blue eyes blazed with a terrifying light as he rounded on Greyson. “You didn’t tell me your daughters were the Fates.”
CHAPTER 14
“What the hell are you talking about?” Greyson demanded.
The chocolate Rowan had practically force-fed him had eased his shaking, but he wasn’t anywhere near full strength yet. Would he need it to face down a demigod? Given the heavy glare Castor was directing at his daughters, fear gripped him, along with a shot of adrenalin spiking through his blood.
He couldn’t lose them too.
Greyson moved to put himself bodily between the threat and his children.
“Cas, darling,” Leia placed a steady hand on the demigod’s arm. “You’re scaring the children.”
“Those aren’t children,” Castor spat. “They are the three women who set the fates of all beings—man, demigod, and god alike. They determine the lengths of our lives and the dates of our deaths. They are responsible for every shortened life, every person we loved who died early, every unjust death.”
All three girls gasped, and Rowan, standing closer, wrapped her arms around them. If glares could kill, there’d be a fried demigod on Greyson’s wood floors right now. In a show of solidarity, Cleopatra suddenly appeared from wherever she’d been hiding and also placed herself in front of the girls, hissing a warning at the demigod.
“What is he talking about, Daddy?” The waver in Atleigh’s voice broke his heart.
Leia tugged on Castor’s arm. “They obviously don’t know what you’re talking about. Stop scaring them.”
“There has to be some mistake,” Marrok stepped forward now.
“Stay out of it, old friend,” Castor snapped, not removing his eyes from the girls.
Greyson raised his hands, ready for whatever came his way. “Marrok’s right. You’ve made a mistake.”
“No mistake.” Castor growled. He po
inted at Chloe. “Clotho, who spins the web of life.” Next, he pointed at Lachlyn. “Lachesis, who draws the lots and determines how long one lives by measuring the thread of life.” Finally, he pointed at Atleigh. “And Atropos, the inevitable, who chooses how someone dies by cutting the thread of life with her shears.”
Holy hell. Greyson felt the blood drain out of his face, leaving him light headed. My daughters are the fates. Dammit all, this explained everything. The coincidence was too great to deny. Though the death part didn’t seem to fit.
But he couldn’t focus on that now. Not with an enraged demigod standing before him.
Castor zeroed his gaze in on Greyson. “I know these women well. They killed my first wife. They’ve killed everyone I’ve ever lost.”
By now the girls had started sobbing behind him. Greyson gathered what tiny amount of strength he had inside him, preparing to fight.
“Calm!” At Rowan’s single word, a sense of serenity poured through Greyson, starting in his chest and moving out to his extremities. He didn’t lose sight of the danger, but the anxiety and adrenalin pumping through him moments before dissipated in the wake of the magic swirling through the room.
Castor, too, relaxed his stance, releasing his hands, which had been fisted, and standing up. Even his blue eyes dimmed slightly. Behind him, the girls quieted.
“Whoa,” Tala muttered. “That would be a handy trick with werewolves. Any time you want a job, you have a place with us.”
Slowly Greyson turned to face his nanny, whose pink-tinted skin had gone sickly grey. Her hands, which she still held up, shook horribly. Rowan tossed Tala a wan smile, “No, thanks. Takes too much energy.”
