Beyond The Veil: A Paranormal & Magical Romance Boxed Set

by Multiple Authors

  “I see.” The words fell from Kyna’s mouth.

  The sound riled her enough to stop any more from following. With a lunatic of this measure, one needed to guard their words with great care. She needed to appear as if she agreed, even when unsure what she was agreeing too, until enough information had been gathered to make a wise decision. She’d learned this technique in parent teacher conferences over the years. When the parent’s ideas seemed detrimental to the child’s well being, she’d let the enemy talk, the surest way to gather enough information to be used against them.

  “Do you?” her mother continued.

  Although the details thrown at her so rapidly hadn’t yet fully connected in her brain, the method of delivery seemed rehearsed. Her mother, obviously nothing more than a pawn in this society’s game, appeared to think herself much more valuable.

  “I think I’m getting the gist of things. I don’t understand, though, why you waited so long to bring me here.”

  “You don’t have to. All the plans aren’t important. What you need to learn, now, is your place here. You will work with Darcaryn. Once you are married, your power will ascend to new levels, ones you can’t even imagine. And, with the addition of my power, the connection of our bloodline, the three of us shall become a powerful asset to these men, to the society as a whole. I can’t explain what an honor you have been given to be included in such plans.”

  “So you’ve said,” Kyna managed.

  The one piece of bread she’d put in her mouth, as a show of playing along, remained half-swallowed. The crumbs lodged in her dry throat, choking her. She took a large gulp of the tea beside her, hoping she could keep it down. The butterflies in her stomach had gone on a rampage, pushing her over the edge from nervous, to angry to flu-like symptoms.

  “I just found out the whole plan last night,” Darcaryn added with a dark excitement lacing his voice.

  Could he really be thrilled to have been lied to? Both he and her mother had truly been brainwashed. She took comfort in the knowledge Aedan would be moving heaven and earth to find her right now.

  “They led me to believe this society was after your family. A brilliant plan to destroy your grandfather—he died a very broken man, his ambitions dashed—but I see the great cause in it all now. He wanted too much. He thought he deserved too much. I consider myself privileged the society kept me in their plans all these years, and changed my roles as their needs changed. I couldn’t be more thrilled that we are to be married tomorrow. Your mother and you will have today to prepare, to get to know each other. Once we are married, the three of us will become a powerful team, as she said. I’m told we’ll be one of the most powerful teams this society has seen in a long time. While I didn’t get much time to train you, thanks to that damn SEAL, we will continue the work here, in our own private wing of the castle, ,” Darcaryn went on.

  “Tomorrow,” her voice trailed off as she tried to keep up with her own erratic thoughts, the ones she could hold onto.

  “I know it’s a lot to absorb all at once, my love,” Darcaryn comforted in his own selfish way.

  He squeezed her hand, and she forced her fingers to curl around the back of his hand. This was not for show, though, but a means to hold on to something, anything. She tried hard not to faint at the sickening thought of marrying such a man. A feverish sweat glistened on her skin as she tried to keep her breathing under control.

  “No need to grasp all this information right now. You have the rest of the day with me to sort things out,” her mother encouraged. “The history is long and complicated, tales changed, people changed, needs changed. The group becomes what they want to be to whoever can serve them best. It’s an honor to become a part, whatever element they allow you into. You will see.”

  The woman provided such amazing motherly advice. This loon of a woman had given birth to her, then sold her out to some wealthy and powerful men who seemed to think they owned the world, that it was theirs to run and manipulate. She wanted Aedan, and she wanted her real mother, the woman who’d raised her, regardless of her part in all of this. At least her, she figured, had lied to protect her as she always had. She wanted her version of calm, not theirs.

  “Strange question, Darcaryn,” Kyna ventured. “How did you get past Aedan’s friends, David and James, I think it was, to get me out of that house?”

  “That’s what you want to know right now?”

  “I’m processing, and the thought occurred to me. The rest is a bit overwhelming to decipher right now.”

  She re-pasted the fake smile back onto her face, as pained as it had to look.

  “Okay. Well, they’re fine. Nothing the same sleeping spell couldn’t help with,” Darcaryn smiled.

  Aedan had to be out of his mind with worry by now, furious and searching for her. She needed him to help her through all this, all the lies and these absurd versions of the truth she’d just received. If it were true, any of it, what a sick and twisted woman she’d been born to. For all she knew the woman could be her aunt. Maybe her biological mother had been killed because somehow she’d veered from the plan. It was possible. Now her aunt faked being her mother. She believed nothing. She couldn’t even keep the lies straight to go with the demented flow for the moment. What else could she do other than lose her mind and have a meltdown that would get her killed at best? With each moment of clarity, they provided a measure of calm. Each time her heartbeat rose, minutes later, it slowed back down again. With each beat, her thoughts blurred.

  “What about the curse, the witch bottle, was that all a story, too, then?” Kyna asked, the curiosity killing her.

  She had to let some questions out. That one had seemed safe enough. Nothing in the asking of it would rile anyone, she hoped.

  “A good story there. Brilliant really, the crafting of it. We needed to keep you frightened enough to be ready and willing to learn. No real harm done. Not like we actually created a bottle or curse. Suggestions sometimes can be spells enough anyway,” Darcaryn offered with a slim smile full of pride on his lips now.

  “I can assume, then, the hauntings in the house were to the same end?” Kyna asked. “Very effective, I might add.”

  She faked praise, figured it what they wanted to hear.

  “Another push in the right direction, yes,” Darcaryn added. “These people are brilliant. Masterful. It’s an honor to be spelled as much as it is to get to create for them.”

  Of course, Kyna mused. I mean, why wouldn’t it be?

  Rage, violent in its attack on her already trembling limbs, came and fled even as she put her efforts into holding onto some semblance of it.

  Darcaryn nodded to her aunt.

  Her aunt took another slow sip of tea and cleared her throat. Then an odd smile lit up her face.

  Maybe they’d drugged her tea, too, all of their teas. An awareness of losing more and more control shot through Kyna's brain. The physical repercussion was a lightning strike through her body.

  All she seemed to do was nod her head. Obey. And, she just got better and better at it, at accepting the ludicrous, the place they’d created for her as the day went on.

  Even sitting in another room, having a pleasant chat with her mother later, she found her complacent and accepting mood out of sync. Yet, she remained unable to think otherwise. How could she be slightly aware something was off, know in the pit of her stomach she should react another way, and yet still not have the emotions to do so? This freaked her out, although the panic wouldn’t come. She felt a slightly stupid witness to her own possession.

  Similar to the sex spells they’d used on her and Darcaryn, this power of possession had to be the way this society also kept Saoirse and Darcaryn. They’d acted strange enough. Possessed. Maybe all three of them were victims. It didn’t give her a mind to trust either of them, but it sure as hell explained a lot.

  Her magic worked, but she had no desire to use it to try to undo her situation. Much longer, maybe she’d just truly go mad, or become someone else.
That had to be their plan. Some spell, maybe permanent, would change who she was, make her want to be part of this group, and even love Darcaryn.

  Every time Aedan came to her mind it felt like someone erased him out. She had to scramble to keep the faintest image of him clear in her mind for more than a few seconds. He was her only hope now. She knew that, and then she didn’t.

  The wedding dress itself stirred something in her, the faintest thoughts of being beautiful but inappropriate. All black, the bodice covered in silver and jewels leading into a sash. Similar in pattern to a spider web, the sash flowed a few inches down over the waist. Shiny, it gave a heavy contrast to the black silk. A memory came, unbidden, of Saoirse explaining spells, ones that curse, in an analogy to spider webs. Coincidence? She doubted it.

  She fingered the gown, layers of silk and lace to the ground, bunched up in a patternless, but sleek way. The veil, the same though more sheer, would drag the ground behind her, maybe do damage to her neck with the tiara-like crown of sparkly gems that would hold it to her head.

  “You’re going to look absolutely beautiful, powerful, in this dress,” her mother cooed as she ran her hands over the material, her fingers lightly touching the sparkly parts.

  Kyna held up her hand, seizing the moment of semi-clarity, and concentrated. The task proved near impossible, but she fought her body and her mind. Heat built slower than it should have in her core, so she had a harder time getting it to flow to her fingers. After long moments of concentrating so hard she’d begun to sweat, a faint light formed in the palm of her hand.

  “No need for that now. At first, until your body gets used to the magic here, you should conserve your energy. There will be more than enough time to play with magic once you’re wed to Darcaryn. We’ll all conjure together. I’m sure you’re as anxious to get started, as am I. But, soon enough. I look forward to finally getting to work with you myself, my powerful daughter.” Saoirse added with no true excitement evident in her voice.

  She wanted…she wanted something else. Yet, she found herself too confused, too tired. A false peace clouded over what she truly wanted.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By nightfall, a storm had blown in. The windows shook and the wind howled as Darcaryn talked and talked. He rambled on about the magical, in many senses of the word, life she would have with no expenses spared, obviously.

  “This ritual tomorrow, it’s elaborate and will change our lives, intertwine the ribbons of our fate. It is of grave importance we both go through the ceremony of our own free will,” Darcaryn went on and on, oddly like a kid in a candy store.

  Out of character for him, but then who the hell knew what his true character was.

  The words rang out in her mind. She wanted the wedding, though that just didn’t feel right. She guessed that could be it. She searched her feelings. Love should be part of it. She wondered if she felt love or if it was merely lust. The stirring in her stomach and the dizzying ache in her head seemed hard to define. Yet, the thoughts floated away just as quickly as they came. Her mind refocused without her permission. Drugged. Spelled. Possessed. What difference did it make when thoughts to save herself were fleeting at best?

  “Tomorrow we will be bound together with such strong ties separation will be difficult, near impossible, actually. Our souls will be bound together for a lifetime,” Darcaryn added. His tone had turned husky, maybe a tad loving.

  “Yes. Sounds lovely,” came out of her mouth, though her brows furrowed. Clarity, a moment of sweet clarity enraged her. “No. No. No! This isn’t right. I don’t want to marry you. I love Aedan. Get me out of here. You’re messing with my mind. How could you want me like that?”

  Darcaryn flew from his chair, his top shirt buttons undone, his hair wild, his face red, and his eyes bulging. He wrapped his hands around her throat. She gasped for breath, for the few faint wisps she could still suck in.

  “You will not speak his name again. You love me. Soon, there will be nothing left to protest. We will be married, joined in all ways, and your mind, your heart, will learn to live with it. We are meant to be,” he spat the words in her face, releasing her throat.

  She coughed, gasping to pull in the air she’d missed.

  He grabbed her cup of tea, held it to her lips, and tipped it. Liquid poured into her mouth. Her throat obeyed the instinct to swallow.

  Gulping to finish, she fought for her breath again. Her lungs remained desperate for air after their scare.

  In seconds, though, her mind began to numb again. She felt calm and cool, but still not quite collected. Maybe she would just accept her fate in time. The fear passed as quickly as it came. She sat there, not caring that Darcaryn pawed at her face and ran his hands through her hair as he apologized for his outburst.

  She longed for the fear to come back, but couldn’t hold onto it. She wanted for anger, but the feelings wouldn’t come. Even butterflies in her stomach would be better than this insane numbness. She marveled how she could want for something, vaguely that is, but still not achieve it, not be able to feel it. Thirsty now, she picked up her teacup. A tiny tear slipped from her eye as she let the liquid rush down her throat. She gulped the lukewarm, herbal tasting water.

  In some bizarre moment of psychotic self-actualization, she said good-bye to herself, to her life, and to her mind. Peace descended.

  Darcaryn praised her, and then placed a light kiss on her lips.

  The faintest sense of revulsion at his show of affection passed through her mind like a light breeze she couldn’t enjoy. She mourned a loss she could no longer describe. Then, she forgot exactly what she’d longed for in the first place.

  Darcaryn walked away from her. He moved to a piano in the large sitting room.

  Kyna sank back into the soft, white couch she sat on. She let her drugged gaze drift over the room, lulled by the sound of the dark, ominous tones Darcaryn made with his fingers on the ivories. The pattern painted on the ceiling became the focus of her study. Clouds, blue and white, wispy, sat stationary on the arches of the ceiling. Ivy, butterflies, and flowers adorned each edge. No dark colors, all only pastel in hue, they blurred and cleared. The butterflies appeared to be flapping their wings. The flowers looked like they swayed in the wind.

  Unaware of time passing, she did react to the conclusion of Darcaryn’s endless song. Gloom hung over her like a dense fog. She shivered as she gave into her sudden sadness. Yet, she didn’t mind. She lost herself in feeling, just to have one, any. Darcaryn’s warm hand on her cold skin startled her. She craved the small rise in her heartbeat and the small rush of blood through her veins.

  “You’ve grown cold in your gown. Let’s get you into the tub and then to bed. We have an exciting day ahead of us, and you need rest to adjust to it all. The tea will give you a dreamless sleep. No demonic visitors tonight, I promise you that,” he comforted, punctuated by a light kiss on her temple.

  She wanted some, someone, but the image, large, shadowy, ghostlike, slipped through her mind. Darcaryn supported her, his arm tight around her waist, protective, as they walked into a bedroom, one as white and beige as the last room they’d been in. Just as vast, in this one an oversized bed sat to one side, along with another white couch, and a white wooden armor. She wondered if it contained all black dresses inside.

  Darcaryn pulled thick, tan curtains, and she realized a claw foot tub sat in the alcove behind them. He not only started the water to fill the bathtub, but also got the fire going in the fireplace directly across the room with a simple flick of his wrist.

  He then laid out a nightgown on the bed, black, of course, but sheer and sexy. The likes of such she’d only seen in magazines. It rested in stark contrast to the thick, white comforter.

  “I will leave you now, let you bathe, and then you will get into bed. Next I see you will be at the altar, my love. Rest well,” he said, pressing another kiss to her forehead and squeezing her hand.

  After he closed the door behind him, she found herself mesmerized by the
steam rising up from the water streaming into her tub. Out of place in this world, out of sync with her own thoughts, the fading chill on her skin became the only real thing she felt, physical or otherwise. In this state of forced numbness, she lost the will to fight for her own body. She found herself at peace with that decision.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After sleeping like the dead, Kyna awoke to the sound of her mother’s voice. More tea poured down her throat, she felt refreshed, but in a state of floating along with the current of things. Surreal, as if she were watching a movie, seeing herself through her own eyes.

  Her mother, along with several other women dressed as servants, got her ready for her wedding.

  She didn’t say a word while being dressed and groomed, nor through breakfast. She just fought to grasp hold of an elusive feeling that washed over her, moment to moment, then slipped away. She craved fear tingling over her skin, allowing her to at least feel something, until it passed. Anger, a hot ball of fire in the pit of her stomach, she gave thanks for when it built inside her for brief seconds. Neither, though, could she react to as she wanted. They kept pouring the tea down her throat, and then refilling her glass. Not even good, she still found herself craving it. Drinking the wretched brew willingly, cup after cup, though she loathed herself for doing so. Yet, she clung to even that. While weighty, even guilt, vague and short-lived, trumped numb.