Embrace of the Damned

by Bast, Anya

She stood, staring down the road in question. Why had she ever left Broder? Her heart ached. It was the dumbest thing she’d ever done. This had been a mistake. She needed to go back to him, demons or no….

  She shivered and shook her head. What had she just been thinking? She couldn’t take that kind of a risk. It was far better to stay here, where it was safe.

  Jessa turned toward Thorgest. “Did you say wards?” Her ability to think had gone sluggish and slow. She shook her head to try to clear it, but it was hard.

  Her great-grandfather motioned to her again. “Come into the compound, Jessa. I ken ye have questions and you need cleaning up.”

  “I have so many questions.”

  “And I will answer all of them for ye.”

  She still didn’t move toward him, but she wasn’t really sure what was holding her back.

  Her great-grandfather shifted his weight and sighed a little. “It’s that man, perhaps? Broder Calderson?”

  Immediately, she bristled. “You say his name like it’s a disease. He’s a good man who has been protecting me.”

  Her great-grandfather snorted. “Protecting ye. Ah, child, I’ve so much to tell ye.”

  She didn’t move, didn’t respond. She didn’t like that cold, hard note in his voice. It sent up a warning flag. She especially didn’t like it in relation to a man she’d come to care very deeply for.

  Her great-grandfather gave a little sigh again. “I see ye’ve fallen for him. I suppose it’s to be expected. The men of the Brotherhood are strong, mysterious, and—”

  “That’s true, but that’s not why I care for him. I’m not that shallow. Broder is far more than a pretty face. He’s intelligent, protective, interesting as all hell. He cares more for others than he does for himself and he’s the first person in my life, other than Margaret and maybe my best friend, who ever really took the time to know me.” Her temper flared, making her take a step back.

  Maybe coming here had been a mistake.

  “All right.” Her great-grandfather held out a hand. “I understand. Ye can go back to him whenever ye wish.”

  Jessa’s mouth snapped shut. “Of course I can.”

  “Please, let’s not talk of this man any more right now. I want to get to know the great-granddaughter I thought long dead.”

  “You thought I was … dead?”

  He nodded. “Come with me. Let’s talk. I’ll answer all yer questions, if ye’ll answer mine. I’ll finally ken my long-lost kinswoman and, finally, ye will know who ye truly are.”

  If there had been any question of her not following him down the rest of the road and through the gates she could see in the distance, those words had eradicated it. She fell into step with her great-grandfather and continued the rest of the way into the seidhr enclave.

  She barely even felt the snick of the powerful magick that closed behind her as they continued down the road toward a huge set of gates and a tall gray stone wall.

  Dawn lightened the horizon in earnest when the gates swung open, revealing anything but the “compound” she’d been imagining in her head. A narrow, curving, tree-lined road stretched from the gates to an enormous gray stone mansion. To both sides of the road lay manicured lawns and in the distance she caught a glimpse of outbuildings. From somewhere on the property, a cow mooed in protest.

  “Is that … livestock I hear?”

  “We grow all our own food here,” Thorgest said as they made their way toward the massive house. “Produce our own dairy, eat only organic meat raised right here on the property.”

  Jessa flinched. That meant they killed their own food, too. “I’m a vegetarian. Margaret raised me that way.”

  “Ah.” Thorgest smiled. “To each her own.”

  They reached the house. Shouldering her backpack, filled with the few possessions she’d decided to take with her, she climbed the wide stone stairs. The stairs reminded her of something you’d find in front of a huge library in New York City or Los Angeles. Through the front door they entered a posh foyer.

  Jessa turned in a circle, whistling low. The floor beneath her feet was made of polished marble, a curving staircase led to the second floor, and an enormous glimmering and twinkling chandelier hung above their heads. It was strange to see a mansion like this way out here in the northernmost reaches of Scotland, even stranger to see it following the trash-strewn road she’d traveled in on.

  “Can I ask a rude question?” Her voice echoed through the immense chamber.

  “Ye may ask anything ye wish.”

  “How does the seidhr come by all its money?”

  Thorgest laughed, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. “That’s a good question, me lass. In the beginning our money came from our magick. Our members have worked for kings and heads of state all throughout the centuries and still do, occasionally. Ever heard of Merlin?”

  Jessa’s eyes widened. “He was a fictional character.”

  “Ah, no, he wasn’t.” Thorgest nodded and smiled, his two long beard braids bobbing. “He was a real person and he was one of us. Ye can be proud of yer heritage. But there aren’t many of us and we’re hunted. So we live communally, for our protection. Our wealth has come from our members, though careful investments over the years have helped us prosper. Come.” He motioned at her to follow and crossed the wide marble floor of the foyer to one of the doors leading off from it.

  They entered a large room that seemed to be both a library and a meeting room. Books lined tall bookshelves on all the walls and a long, polished wood conference table dominated the center of the room, framed by a huge window. A fire burned in an enormous hearth on the far end of the chamber. Three people stood near it.

  As she and Thorgest approached, she spotted Carolyn right away since she looked so much like her biological mother it made her heart try to rise up into her throat. The first man was tall and buff, with sandy brown hair and a strong, handsome face set with intelligent, light blue eyes. She didn’t know him.

  But the second man she recognized.

  • • •

  “You.”

  Roan watched as Jessa’s eyes narrowed as soon as she caught sight of him.

  “You incredible bastard,” she bellowed. “How dare you try and kidnap me!” She stalked toward him as she yelled, looking ready to punch him in the face, but instead she jabbed her index finger into his chest. He would have taken the punch, welcomed it. He deserved it.

  Gods, but she looked like her mother—all that long, dark blond hair and the fire in her big brown eyes. She was beautiful and she took his breath away, but not with romantic attraction. Compared to him, she was an infant in this world … and he’d been in love with her mother. But for a twist of fate, she could be his daughter. All the same, he thought she was magnificent.

  This woman was far too good for the likes of a man like Broder Calderson.

  He held out a hand to stop her tirade. “Look, I’m not going to apologize for what I did. You had no idea the danger you were living with. You needed out of that keep and away from Broder immediately. It was a desperate move and I failed, but my intentions were good—to protect you from evil.”

  “Evil?” She whirled to face Thorgest. “What is he talking about?”

  Thorgest looked way too satisfied for Roan’s taste. Roan realized he may have just given the old man exactly the opening he’d wanted. At the moment he found he was not happy to give Thorgest anything he wanted.

  Their leader stepped forward. “He’s talking about Broder, lass. He’s talking about what we need to tell you about him.”

  “I’m sick of hearing all these vague things about Broder meant to make me afraid of him. He’s a good man. He’s saved my life time and again. He’s protected me and shown me caring. He’s supported me more than anyone. Tell me why you think he’s a dangerous man right now. No more ambiguity.” She set her hand on her hip and stuck her chin out. That was when Roan saw it. She loved Broder Calderson.

  Och, poor lass.

  “We’r
e not going to talk about Broder right now. He can wait,” Thorgest replied with that same satisfied smile on his face. He knew he had Jessa right where he wanted her. “We’re going to talk about your mother.”

  It was as if all the air left the girl for a moment. When she inhaled, her breath was shaky. Broder, at least for the moment, had been completely forgotten. She took her hand off her hip, her entire demeanor changing. “I want to know everything.”

  “And I want to tell you everything, lass.” Thorgest led her over to the couch and sat.

  Jessa hesitated a moment, looking pale and nervous.

  “First, let me introduce ye to everyone in the room. Ye’ve met Roan, my second in command when he isn’t arsing things up.” Thorgest motioned to Carolyn. “And ye know Carolyn Egilson, yer great-aunt.” Carolyn offered Jessa a winning smile that Roan knew all too well was fake.

  “That’s Sam over there,” Thorgest said, motioning to the shaman standing near the fireplace. “He’s a powerful shaman and a distant cousin of yours. He spends most his time at the enclave in Baltimore.”

  Jessa paled. “Baltimore, Maryland? I grew up in Cleveland Park, in D.C. There were seidhr right up the road from me and I didn’t know it?”

  Sam’s face had a grim set to it. He probably hated what was going on just as much as Roan did. “We had no idea you were alive, Jessamine. Your mother and father did a good job of hiding you from us.”

  “Yes, why did they do that, by the way?” She looked at each of them in turn, suspicion tingeing her expression.

  “Patience, Jessamine. Your questions will be answered all in good time.” Carolyn smiled widely at her.

  “Sam, Carolyn, and Roan are here because they’re to be yer teachers.” Thorgest smiled. “With yer bloodline, ye’re bound to be a powerful witch, but if you dinna get the proper training, all you’ll be able to do is tricks fit for entertaining at a child’s birthday party. Now, we talk of yer mother.”

  Roan went for the door. He didn’t want to talk about Abigail.

  “Wait,” called Thorgest. “Stay. Ye have a part in this story, too.”

  He paused in the doorframe and turned around. “My part to play in this story is just as shameful as the way I tried to take Jessamine from Broder.”

  Jessa bristled visibly. “I thought you didn’t regret it.”

  “I don’t regret the motivation behind the attempt; I regret scaring you.”

  She made a scoffing sound and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t worry. Your attempt was so inept it barely frightened me.”

  Thorgest guffawed. “Lass, ye are very much like your mother. Let me tell ye how.”

  And with those words Thorgest ensured that Jessa’s attention was completely centered on him once again.

  “My granddaughter, yer mother … her name was Abigail….”

  Roan sat in a nearby chair and listened uncomfortably to the story he knew by heart. How Abigail had disobeyed her grandfather by choosing her heart over the man who’d been chosen for her—him. In every word that unfurled from Thorgest’s tongue, his heart ached again.

  Thorgest told her about how much Roan had loved her and how he’d tried to manipulate her into staying here and giving up her relationship with Michael. Roan gritted his teeth, noticing that Thorgest managed to leave out his own cruel manipulations.

  “So my mother ran away from here, ran away from you.” She narrowed her eyes at Thorgest and then turned to look at Roan. “And you.”

  Roan shifted in his seat and caught her gaze, holding it intensely. He spoke with all the emotion and conviction he had in his heart when he thought of Jessamine’s mother. “I loved Abigail. I wanted her with every breath I took. I would have died for her.” He paused. “But she didn’t love me back. So, yes, she ran away from me.” He paused. “She ran from Thorgest, too.”

  Thorgest gave him a sharp look, but wisely kept his old yap shut.

  “She loved Michael, my father.”

  Roan nodded. “Truly and deeply.” He hated how the pain shone so clearly and brightly in his voice. He wanted to shut it all away, hide it from her. Suddenly he felt naked, not only in front of Jessa, but in front of Thorgest as well … and that was unacceptable.

  Jessa didn’t say a word. She only stared at him as though seeing him for the first time. She blinked and started to say something, but he didn’t let her, making a sharp gesture with his arm.

  He stood. “I’ll be taking my leave now.” Then he strode toward the door. He couldn’t think of anything more painful than sitting around and listening to a rehash of this particular bit of his history.

  Her hand fisted tightly in her lap, Jessa watched Roan leave. His dark gray eyes had held more than a hint of grief when he’d talked of her mother. He’d really loved her, probably still loved her even though she was long dead. Jessa didn’t like the empathy she had for him. After all, she took it personally when people tried to stuff her into the backs of SUVs without her consent. Yet there was something complex about Roan.

  Something dark. Something in him that hurt, though he tried to mask it. Damage and a deep emotional turmoil.

  He reminded her of Broder.

  “Don’t mind him,” said her great-grandfather. “He never got over Abigail. Not even after all these years. Never even took another woman, far as I know.”

  Blinking as she emerged from her deep train of thought, she turned her attention back to her great-grandfather. She still couldn’t believe she had one, yet when she looked into his face, she saw definite genetic similarities—the almond shape of his eyes, the full curve of his mouth, the pointy chin. “I want to know how they died and how I ended up with my aunt Margaret.”

  The light went out in Thorgest’s eyes. “All we know is that they had a car accident. We thought ye’d died along with them, because we thought Abigail was pregnant with ye at the time. Turns out ye must have been born a little premature.”

  “But was it really a car accident? Could it have been the Blight?”

  Fire flared for a moment in his expression, his jaw going tight. “We have our suspicions it could have been Blight, but there’s no way to know for sure. One thing is for certain, we never knew about ye. Abigail made sure of that.”

  “She didn’t want me here.”

  Of course, she hadn’t known that when this odyssey had started. Now that she was here, knowing her mother had fled this man so long ago, she realized that her mother had probably never wanted her to come here and that revelation made her uneasy.

  Why hadn’t her mom wanted this for her? Her heritage, her people? Was it because of Thorgest? Was she not seeing something, whatever it was her mother had run from?

  It was clear her great-grandfather believed in his way or the highway, but how far did his domineering hand stretch?

  “As for the woman who raised ye, I’m sorry, lass, but we dinna know anything of that one. Seems yer mother and father were so hell-bent on keeping ye from yer people that they chose her to raise ye without giving ye any knowledge of yer birthright. It was a cruel thing to do.”

  She bristled, her mouth opening to defend her mother and father, starting to say they’d clearly been trying to protect her from the Blight, nothing more. But as Thorgest stared at her, little by little, her anger faded and she shivered.

  Cruel.

  He was right, it had been cruel. And their action had caused the exact opposite effect, since her lack of knowledge about her heritage had led her here—right where they hadn’t wanted her to go.

  She relaxed her shoulders, letting her self-righteousness leave her in a slow and steady trickle. Now when she looked at Thorgest she didn’t see an overbearing man, determined to control her mother’s romantic choices. Now she saw a caring great-grandfather who’d been robbed of a life spent with his family. A poor, tired, broken-down old man who needed her help.

  Jessa wasn’t sure where this sudden change in her emotions had come from, but they were there nonetheless and suddenly she felt too tired
to examine them too closely.

  Suddenly nothing mattered but her urge to aid this man in any way she could. She would sacrifice anything to please him, even her final moments with the man she loved.

  Knowing exactly what her great-grandfather wanted of her, she settled her hands in her lap and looked up at Thorgest. “I want to stay here to train. I want to become a true witch.”

  Thorgest’s face broke into a wide smile. “Good. That’s very good, lass.”

  “She’s done what?” Erik roared the words.

  Broder stood in the living room holding Jessa’s note clenched in one hand. He’d managed to pull on a pair of boots and a shirt, managed to make it downstairs. Erik was sprawled on the couch, drinking coffee.

  “Her letter made it clear that nothing would stop her from joining her people. Loki says she’s where she should be, mission accomplished. We need to leave her be.” The words physically hurt to say.