The Unlocked Legacy

by Lucy True

  “Is it true?” Jenna blinked at Burgundy, tears running down her face. “Have Finders occupied Rock Grove?”

  “All kinds of true. Why? What’s the matter?” Burgundy reached for her ex-girlfriend, fingers lacing with hers. What on earth had moved Jenna Iverson to tears? They’d known each other since childhood and never once had the succubus cried. She’d always been confident, sometimes even a tad narcissistic. But this?

  “They took my mother.” Jenna fell into her arms, now openly weeping, her tears soaking the shoulder of Burgundy’s shirt.

  Burgundy wrapped her arms around Jenna and squeezed tight. Houses ransacked and now people taken into custody? “She’s a succubus, though. I don’t understand why they would take her.”

  “Because she’s a succubus,” Iris pointed out. “Another female species that tends to be more likely to give birth to a warlock. They’re being thorough. Besides, demonkind aren’t exactly on the Council’s list of allies, any more than warlocks or vampires are. They’ll take anyone who poses even a whiff of threat. Not something you thought about when you decided to cross the Council, is it?”

  Burgundy swallowed another rush of acid. If her aunt wanted to rub her nose in this situation, to prove to her that she’d caused it, then mission accomplished. Her body shook with unshed tears. The only comfort was in Jenna’s warmth against her, the certainty that at least one person didn’t blame her for this horrific state of affairs.

  “Let’s go.” Burgundy guided Jenna back to the wide open door.

  “Where are you going?” Iris called after her.

  “Away from you.” She kept walking, pushing Jenna toward her car. They needed comfort food and they needed it now. Jenna didn’t resist as Burgundy urged her into the passenger seat, got in the driver’s side, and thrust the key into the ignition.

  Ten minutes later, she parked outside the diner, but when she saw the darkened windows, a fresh chill wracked her body.

  Jenna leaned forward and looked past her. “Why’s the diner closed? It’s not even six.”

  “I don’t know, but I want you to wait here.” Burgundy reached for the door handle, but Jenna shook her head.

  “If they’re taking succubi and vampires and warlocks, then we go together. I’m not going to hide from them.”

  Burgundy closed her eyes, hand still wrapped around the cold handle, heart fluttering in her chest. “Please, don’t risk it. My aunt is right. This is entirely my fault. If I’d answered the Council’s questions when I went for my declaration ceremony, if I didn’t point out how archaic and ridiculous all of it was, or treated the whole thing with sarcasm, they wouldn’t have done this to the town I love.”

  Jenna scoffed and this time, it was she who offered Burgundy a reassuring hand. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking your pride caused this. They knew. They had to know, had to suspect all along that you’re not a witch like them. You didn’t cause this. You didn’t even give them a reason to send their little magickal police force into town. They’ve always wanted to keep supernatural towns like Rock Grove on a short leash.”

  “That’s what Mr. Knight said. But why?” Burgundy tore her gaze from the darkened diner windows and turned to face Jenna. Leave it to the journalist to know something pertinent to the situation.

  “Because the more supernatural people you get together in one place, the more likely it is that some of them are either hiding from the Witches Council or plotting against them. At least, according to Silas Bloom’s paranoid mind. It’s that idea of hiding in plain sight, where other supernatural auras might blend enough to make someone unobtrusive.”

  The reminder that the Council’s leader was also her grandfather didn’t do a damn bit of good to improve Burgundy’s mood. Nor would sitting around, fearing for her own safety. “What’s his end game?” she muttered.

  “No idea, but whatever it is, most people think being with him is better than being against him.”

  Now it was Burgundy who scoffed as she rubbed her free hand over the steering wheel, Jenna’s fingers still holding her other one captive. “Well, I guess that ship has sailed. Let’s go see what the deal is with the diner.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  Burgundy turned to ask “What?” and found Jenna’s lips on hers. They tasted of salty tears, but the warmth chased every ounce of fear away. She closed her eyes and savored the moment of normalcy.

  No. Not normalcy. They’d been broken up for more than four months, now. But familiarity. There was comfort in that and she gave herself up to it.

  When they parted and reached for the door handles, it was together. Feet hit the pavement and they both crossed the street, side by side. Burgundy wrapped her fingers around the doorknob to the diner and reached for her magick. It was a risk she was willing to take, to find out what had happened to Charlotte.

  Flashes of Charlotte filled her mind – two men entering the diner, shooing all the customers out, and then looming over her. Their mouths moved, but the visual imprint provided by the door didn’t include words or language. Just those imposing witches flanking Charlotte, a swirl of black surrounding the three of them, followed by an empty diner.

  “The Finders took her.” Burgundy blew out a breath, chest tight as she dropped her hand from the door. “I have to get her back.”

  “Don’t even think about it. They’re probably using her to get to you. You know what they really want.” Jenna grasped her by the shoulders and turned Burgundy away from the door. “None of this is your fault, Burgundy. Don’t let anyone tell you that.”

  “But I do bear the blame for going and acting like an immature brat, when I shouldn’t have gone at all.” Burgundy tried to shake out of Jenna’s hold, but the woman’s fingers dug into her shoulders. “I should have listened to Aleksandr.”

  Jenna’s mouth pressed together in a thin line, the skin around those kissable lips going white. After a heartbeat, she hissed, “Stop that, do you hear me? You went, even though you shouldn’t have. You stood up for yourself, even though you shouldn’t have. And now Rock Grove is going to pay for your bad choice. Fine. It’s all your fault, is that what you wanted to hear?”

  Was it? Jenna’s words sent a throbbing ache straight to her chest and Burgundy nodded. “Yeah. That’ll do.”

  “Good. Now listen to this: shit happens, Burg. This situation is what it is. Self-pity won’t change it. Besides, you’re only a convenient excuse for the Council to take control of Rock Grove. If they catch you out as a warlock, then they can hold you up as so-called proof that Rock Grove needs perpetual oversight to protect its people. We both know where that leads. So if you don’t want some totalitarian asshole stepping all over your beloved town, forget what got us here in the first place, get your head on right, and tell me what we need to do now to stop this from going any further.”

  Burgundy licked her lips. The spring air cooled the moist skin and then slipped past it as she finally drew in a breath.

  Do? What could she do when her heart pounded like a drum, all because the woman she loved was rotting away in a jail cell, somewhere under that dismal manor house in the country? What could she do when the town she loved now lived under a martial presence? What could anyone do when all that they loved so dearly was in danger of being reduced to ashes?

  “I started this, Jenna, and what we’re going to do now is finish it.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  For the second time in twenty-four hours, Jenna’s ashen features gave her away. Burgundy squeezed her hand. She hated seeing her ex-girlfriend looking so shaken, but she also couldn’t blame her.

  First of all, they’d broken into the Witches Council using Burgundy’s still-novice abilities. They could thank Mr. Knight later for pointing out that they could use the secret library’s portal, even to get into the Council. Burgundy hadn’t dared consider it after what her aunt told her, but it worked. They’d arrived with the people on the other side none-the-wiser.

  Second, the hold Burgundy had on her invisibi
lity remained tenuous at best. It threatened to slip off the two of them like a heavy sheet, to fall and reveal them to the assembled witches. Not exactly part of the plan, which meant Burgundy had to hold on to the magick as tight as she could.

  And not one of the witches seemed to notice them there, which left her wondering how many other differences existed between witches and warlocks. If a witch couldn’t sense magick the way a warlock could, no wonder they found warlocks such a formidable and dangerous species. Not that she could find it in her heart to care. Empathy seemed unlikely, considering all she’d watched the Council do to people she cared about.

  Instead, she steeled her resolve, swallowing and tightening her grasp on the magick. Their invisibility had to last until the right moment, whenever the hell that was.

  It wouldn’t be long if Jenna had her say, Burgundy knew that. Because Jenna’s mother stood in what looked like a witness stand, a sort of box brought in to the center of the round desk. The woman standing before the Council trembled, lower lip tucked under her teeth.

  The audience, if that’s what they were, was arranged all around the room, behind the horseshoe-shaped desk. Burgundy couldn’t see the features of the people on the Witches Council, but she could see Brigitte Iverson, beautiful face taut and pale. This was one family resemblance anyone would notice. Like Jenna, Brigitte was fair, blonde, and emanated a cool, supermodel beauty. But at the moment, her brown eyes swam with tears, an expression that broke Burgundy’s heart. Another woman she’d known her entire life, while growing up in Rock Grove, now also another casualty of her very existence.

  “Mrs. Iverson, I see that according to the vital records of the town of Rock Grove, you’ve given birth to one child – a daughter named Jenna Iverson. Is that correct?” Burgundy knew that voice. It was Silas Bloom, her grandfather. Biologically, at least. There was nothing grandfatherly about the way he’d treated her. Not a damn thing.

  Jenna elbowed Burgundy, who shushed her. They had to find out what was going on before they made a move. Was it just Brigitte on trial today or several people? If so, would they see Charlotte here?

  Jenna’s mother nodded and, when one of the witches demanded a verbal answer, said, “That is correct.” Whatever she felt, at least she had the restraint Burgundy had lacked when in the same position.

  Burgundy shoved aside the guilt that threatened to ball in her belly. She’d promised Jenna she would focus on the solution, not the problem.

  Silas Bloom continued his line of questioning. “We’ve come to understand that at the time you conceived this child, there was an unusual amount of warlock activity in the area. I ask you, who is the father of your daughter, Jenna?”

  The trembling of Brigitte’s body ceased as she went perfectly rigid. “I prefer not to say.”

  “And why is that?”

  Brigitte’s jaw clenched, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked them in. “Because who I take to my bed is my business and mine alone.”

  “Very well. I see that you consider yourself a modern woman, one who can be free and loose with her morals, so I’ll ask a different question.” Silas shuffled some papers around in front of him. “Does the name Cian Black ring a bell?”

  Jenna slid a glance at Burgundy. “Your father,” she whispered.

  “Yup.” Burgundy turned to stare at Jenna. “You don’t think...” The thought was too weird for her to finish. Mercy Michaels had once told her that no one knew who Jenna’s father was, that Brigitte Iverson had a thing for men who were tall, dark, handsome, mysterious, virile... Burgundy’s father checked off all those boxes and more. But she absolutely could not consider that thought. Not even one iota of it.

  “It doesn’t. I’m sorry.”

  Of course, the forgetting spell that’d been cast on the citizens of Rock Grove by Iris and Lily. Burgundy hoped it’d stuck with everyone else, considering Mercy, Martha, and Mr. Knight had already told her they hadn’t been affected by it.

  “Are you saying your conquests are so numerous, you’ve forgotten their names?”

  Now Brigitte flushed, pink washing over her skin. “How dare you? I might be a succubus, but I remember everyone who shares my bed.”

  “Then tell us, who fathered your daughter, Jenna Iverson?”

  Brigitte’s lower lip trembled and, for a moment, Burgundy thought she’d either burst into tears or remain silent. And then she said, “Ragnar Lothbrok.”

  Whispers slithered through the room, hushed words exchanged from person to person. Burgundy glanced at Jenna. “Does that name ring a bell?”

  “Immortal Viking dude? Yeah. That’s...” Jenna’s throat worked as if she was trying to push the words out. “Kind of epic, I think. It sounds like I’ve got some research to do.” Her blue eyes flashed and Burgundy knew Jenna wouldn’t just research this guy. She’d hunt him down, if at all possible, and learn all that she could about him.

  “Why keep that a secret?” Silas asked, drawing Burgundy’s attention back to the hearing.

  “Because I don’t know what that means for my daughter, but most people love their children. Am I right?” Brigitte clasped her hands to her chest. “If being the daughter of a Viking meant she’d somehow end up becoming a Valkyrie, well, I didn’t want that to happen. Didn’t want her to grow up a warrior who falls in battle. Fortunately, she seems to favor my succubus side. Jenna has always been a lover, not a fighter, but there’s still a chance that I could lose her on the field of battle if her birthright becomes common knowledge. No mother wants that for her child.”

  Burgundy held back a snicker. “She doesn’t know you very well, does she?”

  “Nah, I’m equal parts lover and fighter,” Jenna agreed, but something in her expression made Burgundy shiver all the same. This one woman had more intensity in her small finger than Burgundy had in her entire body.

  A woman leaned in to murmur something to Silas Bloom, who nodded. “Very well. We’ve no further questions and we remand you to the Finders, who will bring you home to Rock Grove.”

  Brigitte nodded tightly and stepped back from the stand, but not before her gaze met Burgundy’s. The eyelashes of one of her eyes fluttered, and then she reached up as if she had something in her eye as she turned toward one of the Finders who waited behind her.

  “Did she see us?” Burgundy hissed to Jenna.

  “I think so. Some demons can see through glamours and spells. It’s one of the reasons they’re as distrusted as warlocks and vampires.”

  “Great. I’m lumped in with all the worst of the worst.” Burgundy hunched down in her seat and glanced around the room, still clinging to the invisibility she’d plastered over herself and Jenna.

  “Excuse me?” Jenna elbowed her. “Half-demon here, thank you very much.”

  “Yes, and apparently half-berserker, as well.”

  Jenna scowled. “Viking, if you please. There’s a difference.”

  Despite the response, Burgundy smiled and breathed easier. If they could banter like this, if at least one of the people of Rock Grove could be questioned and freed, then surely others could, too.

  She held onto that warm hope until...

  ...until a Finder shoved Charlotte into the room and up into the witness stand.

  Burgundy clutched both Jenna and the shroud of invisibility tighter. What the hell could Charlotte even be interrogated for?

  “Miss Charlotte McVay, you have been apprised of your rights, so we will dispense with the pleasantries and begin the questioning,” Silas announced. “You are intimate with a witch by the name of Burgundy Jane Hart, correct?”

  Charlotte’s cheeks went redder than Burgundy had ever seen them. Apparently, her grandfather wasn’t pulling any punches.

  “Define intimate,” Charlotte shot back. Even as she spoke, Burgundy could feel the medicine woman attempting to soothe the collective emotions of the entire Council. Trying and failing, as it seemed their own righteous indignation was more powerful than Charlotte’s shamanic abilities.

  �
��I didn’t realize this was a difficult question.” Silas adjusted his glasses and, for once, sounded perturbed. Good. Burgundy smirked at the knowledge that her girlfriend had stumped the guy. “Let me rephrase – are you close friends with Miss Hart?”

  “I’d say that’s putting it lightly.” Charlotte folded her arms. Unlike Brigitte, she sound neither nervous nor fearful. What Burgundy saw was a woman who wouldn’t back down. Love swelled inside of her.

  Silas cleared his throat. “This is neither the time nor the place for insinuations. All we want to know is, do you have reason to believe Miss Hart is, in fact, not a witch, but a warlock?”

  Damn. Right to the heart of the matter. Burgundy stifled the noise that threatened to burst from her throat. If only she could launch herself at Silas and pummel him. Not that violence would solve anything, but the idea was at least somewhat satisfying.

  “No.” Charlotte remained in her implacable stance, glaring back at the Council without blinking.

  “You do realize that if you lie, we will know it and there are consequences. The spell cast upon you before the Finders brought you to testify,” Silas pointed at her, “will cause excruciating pain if you lie to us.”

  Charlotte raised her arm and, upon it, gleamed a brilliant white line of energy encircling her wrist. It looked like it’d been burned into her skin, as if she was on fire yet. But Charlotte simply shrugged. “I know and I’m telling the truth. I have no reason to believe Burgundy is a warlock.”

  “I see.” Again, Silas sounded stumped by her words. He conferred with the woman to his right and then with the man to his left. “Let me rephrase yet again. Can you say with absolute certainty that Burgundy Jane Hart is not a warlock?” Triumph tinged his voice and Burgundy’s hope plummeted, a heavy ball in her stomach.

  For Charlotte to say she didn’t believe the sentiment was truth, because it was something she knew. But to say Burgundy was not a warlock? A lie. And, if what Silas said was true, a lie that would bring on a world of pain for Charlotte.