In the Dark (Cavaldi Birthright Book 3)

by Brea Viragh

  “All right, maybe it wasn’t you. I could be mistaken.” He kept his voice gentle when he spoke to her. “But the fact remains that something happened to those cattle last night right around the time you disappeared. It’s enough to make a man wonder.”

  Karsia crossed her arms. “I think I would remember. Cattle mutilations sort of stick out in the mind.”

  The dark glint in her eyes told him something inside of her remembered doing exactly that, although perhaps not her.

  “Okay, well.” Morgan sighed and gestured with his chin. “I’ve been looking all day for the manuscript and I haven’t found anything new. The paper you read is at least five years old and I can’t seem to locate any of my original work. The best I came up with was an old field notebook with some scribbles. What time is it?” He glanced at the clock. “Well, shit. Almost ten! Look at us, two night owls.”

  “I knew this wouldn’t be easy. Why would it be easy?” Disgusted, Karsia straightened. “Why would anything in my life be easy?”

  “Calm down. I didn’t say I’ve found nothing. In fact, I have a few of the manuscripts I cited as well.” He pointed. “They’re right behind you there, if you want to take a look. Nothing I’ve looked at so far has the answers you want.”

  “Not want, geek. Need. Desperately.” She said the words as she looked at her fingernails, picking at flecks of dirt. Something about the way she spoke sounded repetitive, an echo she didn’t believe anymore.

  “I’m sure you do. Which is why I’ll continue to look even though the clock rapidly approaches twelve. Burning the midnight oil.”

  “The witching hour. Time for evil to come out and play.” She kicked her feet. “Aren’t you frightened?”

  He sighed. “No.”

  “I’ve told you what I am. I’m surprised you haven’t turned your back on me yet. I’m dangerous, you know.”

  He’d seen much in his time. Too much. He’d seen the foul deeds of which man is capable of doing echoed in dreams and he became intimately acquainted with evil. Whatever Karsia had inside of her, he was no stranger to it.

  “I know you are,” he said, “but I’m not frightened.”

  “Maybe you should be.”

  “I’m fine,” he told her, looking back at his book. “I’m old enough to deal with whatever is thrown at me.”

  “Even true evil?”

  “Even that. It doesn’t scare me. What scares me is you not wearing a coat when there’s snow on the ground.”

  Morgan rose on creaky knees and crossed to her on the tips of his toes. She eyed him. “Why are you concerned?”

  “With your body type, you could get hypothermia in a snap. Or catch a cold.” He reached out slowly, carefully, ran his hands along her arms to warm her. He was surprised when she let him.

  “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” Karsia stilled under the contact, some of the first and only she’d had in the weeks since her accident. “And what gives you the right to touch me?”

  “I don’t know,” he confessed. Staggered by his reaction to her. “Something about you makes me want to protect you.”

  She let out a bark of laughter, harsh and abrasive. “Buddy, I don’t need protecting, least of all by you. You look like you couldn’t swat a gnat from the air with those spindly arms.”

  “That’s not how it looks from here, although I’m hurt. You dare insult my muscled physique! It seems to me you need someone in your corner more than ever. You’re alone.”

  She started to protest and then stopped, her body leaning into the contact slightly.

  “You’re alone, and you’re fighting this huge problem by yourself.” Morgan continued to rub her arms. He drew in her scent. At first it came to him in a stale gust, a hint of rotting meat assaulting his nostrils. He moved past that until he recognized her sweetness. Delicate. Lovely.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Stop touching me,” she demanded.

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  “It’s for your own good, Professor. Do you understand?” The look she shot him had heat behind it, not necessarily bad.

  “You can trust me. When you’re ready,” Morgan said instead.

  She clenched her fists to keep from touching him back. “Why should I? You let me into your office, into your home. Asked me out on a date without knowing me or what I’m capable of. What I am.”

  “A time and place for everything. At the risk of sounding like a romantic, I think fate brought us together.” Morgan grinned. “Why else would you come find me?”

  Come find me.

  The words echoed in her mind and Karsia was sharply reminded of the man from her dream—if it was a dream. No, it couldn’t be? Could it?

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I have to find a way to get rid of this thing before the eclipse. And the more I think about it, the less I want to. That’s why I came to you. If anyone can help me, it’s you, because I’m running out of time.”

  “Then let go of the need and the stress and the bad things.” His hands rose and fell with a tempo of their own. He traced the scratches on her arms and marveled at how they healed as he watched. Her body bouncing back. The natural abilities of a true witch. Fascinating.

  “Hard to let go of them when you’ve become their embodiment,” she said.

  “Maybe this will help.”

  Wishful thinking, true, but Morgan maneuvered between her open knees and drew her face up to meet him before he questioned the desire. He went on instinct alone, something inexplicable pushing him toward her. Those pouty lips beckoned him in a way no one had before and he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. And he didn’t.

  The kiss was not fast or rushed, so she had time to pull away if she preferred. Morgan moved his body to hers until they pressed together, her softness against his hardness. Slowly their lips came together.

  It was the sheer intimacy of the kiss that jolted Karsia back to herself. As she retook control, her brain turned to mush and the world spun around her until she was dizzy with it. With him. Morgan took his time with her, lips that did not demand or push. They absorbed her and caused an answering upsurge of heat to rise from her toes to her chest.

  A small sound of pleasure burst from her throat and she opened her mouth to welcome him. Thankfully she was sitting down. Otherwise, the force of him would have brought her to her knees.

  What a thing, to have a man touch her. Like she was normal again. Morgan’s fingers twisted in her hair and took their kiss to a different level. She angled up to him with a small keening groan. A part of her dissolved, lifted up to the heavens, and embraced the pleasure he brought. The other part scared her. The one that wanted to destroy Morgan and everything he represented.

  Hope. Life.

  Her hands clawed at her sides and she fought against those urges. She would not hurt him no matter what she wanted, what the thing inside her wanted. The desire to protect him rose in a fierce, fiery wave.

  Finally he eased away from her, resting his forehead on hers, his vision blurred. “There, now. Not so bad, right?” he asked, voice hitching.

  It took time for her to form the words. To remember how to speak. Too full of him. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Yes. No. More than I should have.” She pushed him away and staggered from the desk, knocking into several piles of books. “I’ve got to go.”

  “No, don’t leave yet. Stay and talk to me.” Morgan held out a hand for her. “You don’t have to run away.”

  His glasses were crooked and slightly fogged from their kiss. It made him more attractive than before. Damn him. Damn herself for engaging.

  “This isn’t a good idea. Please, do what I need you to do and let me know when you find the paper.” She leaned against the wall and took a moment to find her breath and get her bearings again. An ache crept into her stomach, twisting agonizingly. She prepared to ignore it. “You’re making my stomach hurt, you arrogant jerk.”

  “Thi
ngs will be a lot more pleasurable with you here,” Morgan replied. “Sit and let me get you something to drink.” He would have said anything to keep her there. “And I don’t think you can blame me for a tummy ache.”

  Neither did she, not really. But the affliction was persistent and getting worse the longer she stood. Karsia rubbed the swell of her stomach. “I don’t want anything to drink. I’m not thirsty.” She jerked forward, wrapping her arms around her torso. The discomfort increased in intensity. “What the hell?” The words dragged from her mouth before she could censure them.

  “What’s wrong?” Morgan shoved everything out of his way to cross to her, his concern immediate.

  Karsia waved him away as visions swamped her. They were horrible, disjointed black and white pictures. Of what she wasn’t sure. She cried out and slapped her hand on the wood paneling to ground herself.

  “Karsia, talk to me.” He laid his hands on her shoulders. “Do you need a doctor?”

  She shoved at him. “I don’t need a damn doctor. Get your hands off me.”

  As quickly as their moment came, it was gone. Every good feeling from before, the butterflies in her stomach, it all turned sour. Her gut roiled as alien impressions assaulted her. A flash of pain, bright and sudden. A dark tunnel, and cold so keen it cut like a knife.

  Something was horribly wrong.

  Karsia hurried toward the door. “I need to leave. Now”

  Startled, Morgan stared at her. “What is it? Maybe I can help. What do you want?”

  “I need to get home.” Panicked, Karsia reached for the knob and stopped when Morgan placed his fingers on her own. “My family needs me. Something…something has happened.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Karsia couldn’t shake him, not even when she shoved him back and raced toward the car.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go back and keep working on finding your notes. This is not your problem.”

  She didn’t know what it was.

  She breathed in the night air and pushed down the eels wriggling inside her. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t good.

  “Please, wait a minute!” Morgan hurried to grab his coat and scarf, following her out and swinging around on an afterthought to lock the door. He fumbled with his keys and nearly dropped them in the process. He finally managed to get everything in order, hastening after her before she reached her vehicle. “Jesus, you’re fast. Tell me what’s going on before my imagination conjures up a number of horrible scenarios.”

  He lunged forward and took hold of her elbow, unprepared for the rapid-fire fists which assaulted him on contact.

  Karsia plowed her hand into his gut, delighted when he stumbled away with a grunt. She succeeded in landing a second punch to his shoulder before moving back to the car. “I need to leave. Get back in the house, Morgan.”

  “Wait.” His voice croaked and he took a moment to breathe past the pain. Damn, the woman knew how to throw a punch. If he were mortal, the blow would have whacked him to the ground and bruised a rib or two.

  Knowing he didn’t have time to give in to the discomfort, Morgan tripped forward and dug his fingers into her shirt, struggling to keep hold. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s gotten you so worked up you rush out of the house at midnight.”

  His heated words drew an answering response from her. Karsia ground her teeth before spitting at him, “Get off me.”

  She dragged him along, uncaring when his feet drew deep grooves in the fresh snow. Morgan clung to her tenaciously. “No. I need answers from you.”

  “You don’t need shit!”

  Snow fluttered in an unnatural wind around them and the antique lampposts casting dusky yellow halos in the night. For an instant, Karsia thought she saw the shadowy outline of wings behind her, their heft blotting out the light. She blinked and the moment passed.

  Slowly, Morgan spoke, straightening and at last releasing his hold on her. “I refuse to leave you until you tell me what’s going on. Why you’re acting crazy without provocation.”

  “Since I’m not in the business of letting anyone in on my personal affairs, and if you refuse to be rational and let it go, then you might as well get in the damn car. Because I’m leaving,” she said with deliberation, enunciating each word. The pain in her gut refused to abate.

  “We’re taking my car.” Morgan jingled his keys in her face. “And you better get comfortable with it, because I’m driving.”

  Karsia grabbed the lapels of his coat and drew him to her. “Look,” she threatened, voice dropping. “Whatever your deal is, you listen to me. I need to get to the Lake Forest area of Chicago as fast as physically possible. Unless you can keep your foot glued to the goddamn gas pedal, then go back inside your comfortable house and keep working on my fucking research. Got it, Professor?”

  Astonishingly, Morgan grinned. “Got it loud and clear.”

  She never gave him the opportunity to question her or pack a bag. She barely gave him the time to let the car warm up. They both piled into the comfortable front seats of his Crown Victoria and set out for her childhood home.

  Engine rumbling and tires gripping the road, Morgan turned unerringly toward the highway to take them east.

  Karsia let her head drop against the leather rest and forgot about the darkness inside her, her worry encompassing everything else. It grew with each mile they pushed forward and later, when she could finally think, she was grateful to Morgan for his intervention. For his complete silence on their journey toward Illinois and over state lines.

  The torture in her stomach continued, like a vise gripping her internal organs. She didn’t know how she knew, how the knowledge came to her with a clear, bell-like tolling, but she did. And it was worse than she’d expected. A tether sank into her abdomen and tugged her forward with a firm yank from whomever, or whatever, held the other end. She hadn’t wanted to go. She must go. It was absolutely essential.

  An accident, she understood from those disjointed visions. Something unavoidable but premeditated.

  Each minute stretched on infinitely as the distance closed between her and her destination.

  “Can you please drive faster?” she told him at last when the speed limit increased.

  “No matter how fast I go, it’s never going to be enough for you.” Morgan brought up the GPS coordinates on his phone and headed in the right direction. “Not when you need to get somewhere fast. I’m doing the best I can.”

  “Do. Better.”

  Morgan stole a peek at her and pushed down ever so slightly on the accelerator. “Try not to chew a hole through your cheek. We’ll get there.”

  She refused to rest, keeping her eyes trained on the road ahead.

  The longer she had to think, the more appreciative she was for the companionship, although goddess knew she would never tell him that. Something about Morgan and the way he carried himself meant she couldn’t get into his head. Without the access, she was less inclined to act on any dark impulses.

  Score one for the geeky professor. Whatever he was.

  The pain in her stomach increased the closer they got to home. Karsia cried out and hunched forward, gripping her abdomen until her fingernails brought blood rushing to the surface.

  “Are you all right?” Morgan turned to stare at her. The car weaved closer to the other lane.

  “Don’t worry about me. Keep going.”

  The mechanical voice of the navigation system told them to take the next exit and Morgan obliged, keeping his hands tight on the wheel to stop himself from touching her.

  He didn’t try to pry any further.

  Karsia glanced out the window and saw the march of houses growing larger and larger even through the gloom of night. Another old neighborhood built on the backs of those with nothing for the pleasures of those with too much. Her family had lived in the Lake Forest district for generations, with the oldest male of the line taking possession of the residence. As far as she knew, there had been a Cavaldi in Chicago since
the city rose from nothing.

  “Take a left here.”

  She hated coming back. The closer she was to her family, the higher the possibility of her hurting one or all of them. It was the singular reason she’d left in the first place. Coming home, she exposed them, opened them up to risk.

  “A right on Circle. Third house on the left,” she said quietly.

  They arrived at Lake Forest, Illinois, after seven in the morning.

  Morgan hadn’t complained once during the long trip. He took the situation in stride though he bit his tongue to keep from questioning her again. “This one?”

  “Yes.” Karsia didn’t need to look up to know they’d arrived. The familiar twang of her family’s magic hung in the air, suspended forever by the sheer magnitude of their power.

  She’d lived her whole life within the comforting walls of the three-story monstrosity, with the weight of history and magic keeping her safe. The massive stone façade appeared fog-gray. Snowbanks drifted delicately over the hibernating gardens. A solid steel fence with spiked tops ringed the property to dissuade trespassers. Stone gables and turrets more befitted a European fantasy than an old Midwestern neighborhood. Stained glass windows mixed with more modern touches among the dour stone. A fanciful widow’s walk ringed the roof.

  If she cared to, Karsia could recall countless memories of her and her siblings careening around the property, howling like banshees. They played hide-and-seek, went on adventure walks, and managed as much mischief as they were able to under the watchful eyes of their parents, Varvara and Thorvald.

  “Damn, woman. The things you haven’t told me could fill a book, I know, but this is a little outside my comfort zone.” Morgan whistled through his teeth. “I didn’t realize you used to live in a museum. Is someone going to kick us out for making too much noise? It is the middle of the night.”

  He pulled to a stop near the front stoop of the long circle drive. The old oaks should have been hibernating for winter, their buds dormant and ready to burst come springtime. Instead, limbs had dropped and the trunks, strengthened by years of her mother’s magic, were shriveled.