Prophecy of Three

by Ashley McLeo

  Screw it. Life will never be the same no matter how much I want it to.

  She tossed out a new blend of siren and witching magic she’d been playing with. The potent hormones mixed with a mind stimulating spell did their work and Evelyn caught the spectacular specimen of a man she’d sensed watching her. He heeded her call and approached her, his dark eyes hungry as his hips thrust nearly imperceptibly.

  Two strong hands cupped her lower back and she allowed herself to be pulled into his hard chest until the space between them was nonexistent. The man beamed down at her. He smelled vaguely like the salty canvas sail of a sailboat and looked like a young Enrique Iglesias, but more macho.

  Much hotter, Evelyn thought. She bit her lip and looked up at him through lowered lashes. He ground against her in response and she pushed her breasts front and center, showing off her excellent cleavage.

  Time for some fun.

  She took it slow at first, commanding small bursts of estrogen into her bloodstream. The hormone emerged from Evelyn’s body seconds later, encased in the golden-hued sweat of a siren. Perspiration glistened on her skin momentarily, like a full-body halo attracting its mate before evaporating into the air to capture him. At least a dozen male faces responded to the biochemical change. Their faces turning away from their friends or potential partners to stare at her. Evelyn’s dance partner’s arms gripped her tighter as he protected his prospective mate.

  Evelyn chuckled to herself.

  Her arms rose to cup her partner’s neck, twisting the ends of his thick, black hair.

  His eyes widened, and a bulge pressed against her thigh.

  She smiled wickedly. Then she turned to face the rest of her audience.

  Her partner’s breath covered the back of Evelyn’s neck as she grabbed his hands and pulled them to her waist. She swayed her hips from side to side, narrowed her dark sapphire eyes, and smiled at the men who watched, enraptured, from the bar. At her command estrogen leapt off Evelyn’s skin, spraying all within a twenty-foot radius with a potent dose of fertility and sexuality.

  Evelyn’s dance partner’s hands inched up and she allowed him a light brush of her breast before commanding them back down, one mind to another.

  Let’s not get too fresh here, buddy. This isn’t your show.

  The Enrique look-alike shivered against her, placed his hands back on her rounded hips and squeezed.

  Their audience had grown to at least fifty men and a few women, all staring at her. Evelyn repressed a shudder of excitement as the power of captivating so many rushed through her. One glance into the crowd confirmed she had started a few arguments. A leggy redhead grabbed her man by his collar, forcing his eyes to hers. Other women had stormed off, leaving their love interests with their mouths hanging wide open.

  Time to finish this.

  Evelyn blew her partner a parting kiss over her shoulder and disengaged her body from his, leaving him wanting in her wake. Bodies parted before the curvaceous blonde as she sashayed deeper into the throng of partygoers, to a premeditated cleared circle, her stage, in the precise center of the dance floor.

  Evelyn ran her hands down her torso, reveling in the contrast of bare skin and silk, twisting and turning as easeful as water with the beat. A vision of a snake emerging from a basket to dance for onlookers came to Evelyn, and she shook it from her head. Reminders that she was the snake, powerful, seductive, the original sin, were the last thing she wanted to think about right now.

  Arms flung wide and head thrown back, she twirled to the music, glorying in the space she occupied and claiming more with each heartbeat. Her hair whipped around her, tossed high in the current of air she called to her aid. Though air was her weakest element, it was worth it to put in a little extra effort sometimes for dramatic effect. As she grew in presence the men under her spell pulled in, creating a tight circle that shielded her from the rest of the bar. She caught sight of her Enrique look-alike dance partner in the passing swirl of faces, sweating a bit but otherwise fine. I chose well. At least he’s holding it together. Others had not been so lucky, squirming and trembling uncontrollably. One man was clutching his groin like a child trying not to wet himself.

  Evelyn pulled her arms and the energy pulsing around her in an inch closer. She gasped. A flood of power stormed through her, lighting her blood, her mind, her very soul on fire. With the combined sexual energy of so many at her fingertips she felt like she could fly away at any moment.

  The song was ending, a perfect natural finale to her own performance. Evelyn followed suit as the beat faded: her rotations growing smaller, her speed slowing, her golden glow dimming. She was coming back into herself, releasing her hold over her prey’s bodies and minds, her body filling with what she’d come here for.

  Power.

  The music fell into a momentary silence and Evelyn stopped, yanked her arms to her sides, and flung her hair back.

  The man grabbing his crotch moaned. A dazed look came over the rest. They stared first at her and then each other, wondering why they were standing highly aroused, shoulder to shoulder with other men. Or where their partners were.

  Not my problem.

  Evelyn shivered as the raw, animalistic energy of a crowd of men and two women pulsed through her. The exchange of energy, their sexual energy for her magic, had been just what she needed. Her power had been pent up for too long. It was exhausting, stifling to live like this between her two worlds, unsuspecting human and witch.

  Her partner stood at the edge of the circle, eyes crazed with desire. Evelyn made her way over to him, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him on the cheek before extracting herself from the circle.

  “Dedisco,” she whispered, spreading her arms wide. She bid the spell to jog around the bar and wipe the memories of everyone in it.

  “Thanks for the good time, handsome,” Evelyn called over her shoulder and disappeared into the crowd and out onto the street.

  “Morning, Vici,” Evelyn said, skipping into the kitchen and inhaling the scent of espresso.

  “God, you’re up early. Didn’t you go out last night? How do you always look so damn good?” Vicencia Del Sarto asked as she hovered over the espresso maker for her daily fix.

  “I left early. Dad asked me to attend a meeting today and I want to be at my best. He thinks I may help seal a big deal he’s been working on.”

  “Hmm, did you tell him you’re going back to Ireland yet? What if he tries to bring you into something and you can’t finish what you started? How will that affect the account?” Vici asked, the concern in her voice unmistakable.

  That was why Evelyn and Vicencia were best friends. As daughters of the CEO and COO of Locksley Enterprises, they both valued and respected the company that gave them a life most others only dreamt about. If anyone had cause for concern over her leaving, it was Vici. As Evelyn’s counterpart, Vicencia would take over Evelyn’s obligations in her absence.

  And Evelyn anticipated being gone for a long time. It could take years to fight the supernatural war fate had chosen for her. It was why Evelyn had yet to tell Vicencia the truth of her trip. Or about herself. What would down-to-earth Vici say when Evelyn admitted she’d be running around with a bunch of witches to save humans from being enslaved by magical aliens for the foreseeable future? It sounded ridiculous. Especially here, so far away from the rolling green hills and mystical mists of Ireland. In the concrete jungle of New York City it was easy to discount the reality of witches, vampires, and any other creatures that went bump in the night.

  Unless you were one of them.

  Evelyn sighed, “I’ll tell him today, Vici. I’m sorry you got stuck with my work while I was gone. I didn’t expect to meet so many people, and we had a lot to catch up on. I won’t let Dad do that to you again.”

  In truth, that was her driving reason to go in today. To tell her father, James Locksley—her mentor and the most important man in her life—to put her position up for grabs. He wouldn’t like it. Hell, she didn’t like it, but it was th
e right thing to do. She’d put Locksley Enterprises in a bind these last few months, forcing Vici to fill in the gaps that she’d left while Evelyn traipsed off for magic lessons. Evelyn knew she should have told them earlier that she would need an extended break, but she loved working with her father, and Vici, and getting shit done. The power that came with running a boardroom never failed to entice her. Though she had to admit the thrill was less now that she’d experienced the flow of magic in her veins.

  “Thanks,” Vicencia said looking relieved. “It’s not that I don’t want you to spend time with your birth family . . . God, it still feels wrong to say that.” She studied Evelyn’s heart shaped face, “But not for you . . .”

  “I’ve come to terms with it.”

  “Right. Well, you were with them a while. Getting to know your sisters must have been fun.” Vicencia said the words cheerily, though Evelyn heard the drip of jealousy in them. If only I could tell her what our relationships are really like.

  “It’s just that, well, I want to move forward, too, and it’s hard to do when I’m at the office fifteen hours a day, seven days a week. I think Michael is going to propose soon. Then we can move in together.” Excitement twinkled in Vicencia’s large brown eyes.

  Evelyn sucked in her breath, “How do you know?” she asked hoping Vicencia hadn’t seen the hurt flash across her face. It wasn’t right to feel left out when she’d abandoned her best friend for three months. Vici deserved to be happy and if that meant moving in with Michael the first chance she got, so be it.

  I won’t be here anyway, Evelyn reminded herself.

  “I saw him looking in my jewelry box. He had one of those ring sizing things in his hand.” Vicencia smiled at the memory. “My dad will have no reason not to let us live together after Michael proposes. Engaged couples live together in Italy all the time. That’s when my cousin convinced her dad to let her move in with her man. And we’d get to plan a wedding, Evie!”

  Evelyn’s heart burst as happiness for her friend overtook the pain of losing her. “Of course, Vici! I can’t wait to go dress shopping with you.” If I’m still around, a small voice in her head amended as Evelyn beamed at her oldest, dearest friend.

  Vicencia sipped her coffee, her stress lines softening at Evelyn’s response.

  “Do you want to share a car to the office today?” Evelyn asked. She was desperate for neutral ground where neither of them felt hurt or left out.

  “Michael will be here soon. He rented a car to go upstate today. He said he’d drop me by the office on the way. Thanks, though.” Vici dropped her espresso cup into the sink where Evelyn knew it would sit until the cleaners came on Thursday.

  The clean kitchen Brigit, Evelyn’s biological mother in Ireland, kept flashed through her mind. Though tiny, cluttered, and sometimes annoyingly cramped Fern Cottage—where Evelyn had spent the last three months—was, at the very least, always sparkling clean.

  “I’ll see you there. My meeting with dad is at nine. Let’s do lunch later?”

  “Text me when and where,” Vicencia said as she waved her way from the room to complete her beautification rituals.

  By the time George, Evelyn’s driver, arrived, Evelyn had given herself a headache considering how her father would react to the news of her leaving Locksley Enterprises.

  I hope Mom isn’t there, too. Evelyn sighed, knowing her wish was fruitless. Why wouldn’t Mom be in the office on such a huge day for the company? Sonja, even more so than Evelyn, was James Locksley’s deal sealer. It would be stupid not to have her there with such a big client on the line. Should I rethink using mind magic on her? Though she’d like to, especially since she would be delivering bad, potentially world-shattering news, Evelyn knew she could never use her ceremens powers on her adoptive parents. If she started down that line with people she loved where would it stop? No way can I use magic on them without them even knowing I’m a witch. Evelyn puffed out her cheeks and released the air slowly. That was another secret she had to unveil today. The holes in her story were growing too big to miss. Her father had already commented three times on how strange she’d been acting and she’d only been home a week and a half.

  I hope they don’t look at me differently. Or think because I have magical powers I can’t be trusted. Things were so much easier when I was normal, or at least something close to that.

  “We’re here, Miss Evelyn,” George said from the front seat.

  Evelyn jumped.

  “Uhh, thanks, George. Sorry, must have dozed off,” she said, thankful that the loyal family driver did not ask questions.

  She stepped out of the car into a swarm of people: coming and going, all fast, most staring into their phones, going about their business. This was New York. This was where she thrived. The sensation of purpose. The smell of asphalt and bodies crammed together. The gloomy darkness and chill of the late fall morning. The movement of the city air around her as she weaved her way through the crowd to push open the modern brass and glass doors of Locksley Enterprises.

  The difference between the lobby of Locksley Enterprises and outside world never ceased to amaze Evelyn. Here, inside her family’s empire, there was space. White, well lit, and smelling of pine cleaner with touches of copper and sage, the offices were a stark contrast to the city. Her father had made sure of that.

  “We want our clients to believe they’ve entered a sanctuary. A place where they can relax. The city, while exhilarating, is not the best place to do a deal. It’s too rushed, too anxious, and too dark. Our clients need light, space to think, and time if we are to succeed. They will find it here,” James had explained when they remodeled the building years ago.

  Everyone in the business world thought her father was crazy then. They asked dozens of times why would he waste money creating a beautiful office when it could be put in shareholders’ pockets or reinvested? But James Locksley had a knack for power dynamics that the doubters had failed to see. It was why at only forty-nine years old James was where he was.

  “Good morning, Miss Locksley,” a pretty girl with a posh English accent at the front counter smiled at her. “Might I send you up a coffee once you’re settled?”

  “Morning, Rose. That would be great. Thanks.”

  Rose nodded, the phone already in hand to call in the order.

  Blessedly, the elevator ride up to the fifty-first floor was nonstop and quiet. Evelyn loved that. A bit of quiet before what was sure to be a storm. She was going to need it today. The elevator dinged, and she stepped onto the executive floor.

  The top floor of the building was like the entrance but on steroids. Floor to ceiling windows provided the executives with a stunning view of the city. It gave their clients the impression that all was possible with Locksley Enterprises. Cubicles were forbidden. Instead, there were spacious offices with doors made of translucent Japanese paper framed in bronze. As a modern shoji, the doors provided enough material to give one privacy but still exude a sensation of lightness. Lush, leafy plants in warm copper pots lined the hallway, providing fresh air and color.

  This may be the only place in the city, besides the park, where Lily would be happy. The thought struck her out of nowhere and Evelyn sighed. For now, witches, mysterious ancient books, and other families don’t exist.

  She was about to open her office door when she glimpsed movement in the conference room. Stretching her neck, Evelyn peeked down the hall. She caught sight of her father and mother inside the glass enclosure at the end of the hall, opposite of her father’s office.

  James ran his hands through his dark hair and smiled sheepishly at Sonja, who was fixing James’s tie. The gestures were so familiar it made Evelyn’s heart swell. How did I not know they weren’t my biological parents? Evelyn’s sapphire eyes flitted over her mother’s petite frame, dark hair and eyes, nestled in a beautiful olive complexion. Evelyn looked nothing like James either. His chestnut brown hair, slitted gray-blue eyes, and thin frame gave an impression of a nimble wolf. None of her light colo
ring, curvy frame, or sensual features were in these people, yet she’d never doubted they were her blood. Did other people wonder? I guess it would be difficult not to.

  Evelyn had stayed with her parents in their Hampton home for a couple of days after her return from Ireland. She’d wanted to hear their side of the story and what they knew of the McKays, her biological family in Ireland, before retreating to the city apartment she shared with Vici. It was as Brigit said it would be. James and Sonja knew almost nothing of the McKays. To them, Evelyn had been a godsend for a young, hardworking power couple plagued by infertility. Even all those years ago they preferred to work with people they had a history with, and Sonja trusted few more than her college friend, Fiona Fallon. Sonja had thought it lucky that Fiona, Evelyn’s second cousin by blood, had taken a senior position at an Irish adoption agency. Lucky that there was a baby girl recently born and waiting for them. Lucky, that the birth family’s stipulations could be easily met.

  “We were the luckiest couple we knew,” Sonja had claimed when Evelyn asked of her adoption story.

  But Evelyn knew better.

  There had been no luck involved. Just as there had been no adoption agency, only a family of witches hoping to hand out three daughters to people who could provide well and keep them safe. Evelyn found herself wanting to correct her parents. To inform them on who they were in partnership with. How most of what they believed about her heritage, and the world in general, was one big lie. But first, she had to out herself as a witch. Soon, she thought as she made her way to her desk and extracted a slim gold notepad from her briefcase before heading down the hall.