by D. G. Swank
Judging from the few minutes I’d spent in his presence as an adult, Brandon was a cocky asshole of a mage, but he wasn’t stupid. Men were the distinct minority in the Valeria community and among our leadership, holding a mere five seats on the Small Council. It said a lot about Brandon’s standing in the community that he held one of them, especially at his age, but only a fool would fail to respectfully defer to an elder witch, whether she sat on the Council or not.
“Forgive me, Madame President, I meant no disrespect,” he said. Then he turned to address Lucia, and thus the entire gathering, once again. “Nevertheless, my position has given me a unique perspective on the situation. To protect our assets in the field and, of course, the Whelan sisters and the book, may I ask one more question, Madam President?”
Lucia frowned, as though she suspected whatever he was about to say would further divide us. Still, she gave Brandon a slow, short nod.
“Madame President, Celeste’s spell records show that she consistently performs her part of the ritual alone, in a completely different vicinity from her sisters. Not only that, but the energy emitted by her spells on the book has changed. Our aura readers sensed a certain… distress, a melancholy in Celeste Whelan’s aura that did not alarm us at the time but nevertheless cannot be ignored.”
This assessment drew another low-level rumble from the Council members, and it was all I could do to keep myself from shooting another glare at him. Especially for the pain this was so obviously causing. Rowan bit her lip and stared at her feet as she subtly shifted from one to the other.
“Should we consider the possibility,” Brandon continued, his voice smooth and steady, his posture still deferential, “that Celeste Whelan herself took the Book of Sindal and escaped the protection of her family’s property?”
Even more startling than the accusation, which we’d expected, was that Brandon had known about Celeste’s spell record and aura before she went missing. Which meant he had, indeed, been checking up on us.
Why?
Rowan raised her eyes to meet mine, and from the panic I saw there, it was clear her Serenity Mode was long gone. I reached for her hand, and when she didn’t offer it, I wrapped my fingers around her wrist instead, tugging her toward me.
The Council erupted in chaos around us, the charge to protect our credibility led by Xenya, while an old mage with a booming voice countered every one of her exclamations.
SILENCE.
Lucia didn’t speak the word. She didn’t have to. She’d mentally projected it to all thirty-three of us gathered in the room, simultaneously. The sibilant vibration arrested every thought, every sense, every aspect of our being for the one second it took to call the entire Council to order.
When it was over, Rowan, Brandon, and I stood blinking before her, like a trio of deer caught in headlights.
“Whoa,” Brandon whispered, looking nothing short of amazed by what had just happened inside our heads.
I couldn’t help but smile at that.
“That’s why we voted for her,” I whispered at him smugly.
His lips twisted into a wry smile. “What makes you think I didn’t?”
My eyebrows curved up, and I granted him a grudging smile in return. Touché.
“Sisters Whelan,” Lucia intoned, “we appreciate your work in keeping the Book of Sindal safe thus far and ask your help in recovering it. Your coven bond with Celeste and your powerful talents may make all the difference.”
“Agreed,” Rowan and I said in one voice.
“As we’ve determined here this evening, we cannot at this time offer intelligence that will help us discern the exact location of the book or who might have taken it. Of course, our best Protective Force agents have been prepared to act since the moment you activated the Protocol Thirteen, and the captain of the force will dispatch them as soon as our meeting is dismissed. We have the highest hope they will discover information that will help us locate the book—and your sister—quickly. Nothing seems like a better path, however, than returning to the scene of the disappearance and working the problem from there. I trust you are equal to the task.”
“Yes, Madame President,” we replied, bowing our heads.
My gaze jerked up and my jaw dropped slightly when Brandon’s deep voice repeated our words a second later.
“As captain of the Protective Force, Brandon Cassidy will accompany you home,” Lucia explained, her tone leaving no room for an objection.
My shock was surely obvious to the whole Council. Brandon was only twenty-six years old, the same as me. Was there no one more senior, more experienced, or perhaps more humble who could possibly be helpful to us?
“Mr. Cassidy’s job is to lead investigations into instances of magic used in the nonmagical world, and to help bring offenders to justice. He’s also the most promising young spell tracker in a generation. I’ve never seen someone this young with such a strong talent for reading the paths of spells, and the stories behind them. He’s more than proficient in a protective capacity, and there is nothing more important to me, and to the entire Council, than your safety.”
“We are perfectly capable of—” I sputtered before Brandon cut me off.
“If that were true, cloaked gang members wouldn’t have nearly killed you on your trip here,” he said in an infuriatingly calm voice.
“You mean the attack that you tried to dismiss ten minutes ago?” I retorted.
Lucia cleared her throat, which instantly snapped our attention back to her. Rowan’s eyes were wide, flicking between me and Lucia, as though she were trying to silently scold me and apologize to Lucia with one look.
I bowed my head again, the act of deference instinctual.
Phoebe, don’t fight this, Rowan pushed through our coven bond. They already suspect enough. If we deny their protection, it’ll just makes us look like we have something to hide.
I didn’t want to admit it, but Rowan was right.
“Thank you, Madame President,” I said, and I felt Lucia’s gentle approval wash over me.
When Rowan turned toward the Council, I did the same, and I nodded my agreement when she said, “Thank you, Council.”
With that, Lucia motioned for us to start down the aisle the Council members had created down the center of the basement and make our way up the stairs and back out into the open air. Rowan and I wasted no time making our escape, with Brandon practically breathing down our necks as he followed us.
The valet was pulling Rowan’s SUV around the corner, and for the first time since this whole ordeal began, she sighed with relief. “They fixed my mirror,” she breathed.
“And the rest of your smashed and shot-up car,” I said, nudging her with my shoulder. She laughed, even if it sounded shaky.
For a moment, it felt like everything would be all right, even though deep down, I knew things were very, very wrong.
Chapter Six
The SUV rolled to a stop and Brandon strode around it, holding his hands inches away from its sides. With his brow furrowed, he did the same to the hood, the wheels, and even the exhaust pipe. To a casual nonmagical observer, it would look like he was merely admiring the car. But I could see he was searching for traces of magic.
“The witches shouldn’t have fixed your car,” Brandon grunted with a look of disgust, “but lucky for us I can sense layers of magic. While I can feel the magic that fixed the car, there’s another layer of residual magic underneath. A strong glamour.” He glanced up at Rowan. “Which fits with your testimony.”
I reached for the handle to let myself into the front passenger side. His fingers wrapped around my wrist midair, stopping me. His hand was nearly twice the size of mine, his fingers effortlessly stilling my entire body.
“What the—?” I snarled as my fingers formed a tight fist.
“Don’t touch it,” he replied, his voice dripping with condescension. “Do you think Lucia sent me just to chauffeur you home? You’re not setting foot inside that vehicle before I run at least one pro
tective security diagnostic and charm it for the ride home.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but what pissed me off more than his tone was the fact that he was right. I hated that we hadn’t thought to take precautions before we got on the road.
“Let go of me,” I said in a low growl.
He dropped my wrist like I was on fire, then turned back to his work.
Within seconds, every facet of the SUV had been wrapped in what was obviously an airtight protective spell.
“Respectfully,” Rowan said—without so much as an ounce of respect—as she approached Brandon and stared him in the eye, “nobody is chauffeuring me in my own car.”
Though her death stare hadn’t troubled Brandon in the past, she must have perfected the withering look with age because the fire in her green eyes startled him just enough for him to stutter a half-witted response
“I’ve been entrusted to—” he started to say.
“Accompany us, yes. Put your tracking skills to good use at the farmhouse, sure. But until we get there, how about you use your energy to look out for trouble, but not behind the wheel?” She took half a step closer to him. “You don’t want to tangle with me on this, and you sure as hell better not touch my sister again. I won’t be near as nice as Phoebe.”
His brow furrowed, like he was flipping through his mental database for an argument to use against her. But few witches possessed more steely assertiveness than Rowan Whelan. In the end, Brandon Cassidy, with all his skill and status on the Valerian Small Council, didn’t offer a rebuttal. Maybe he decided it wasn’t worth the fight, but whatever the case, he didn’t look happy about it.
I smirked as I popped the handle and hoisted myself into the front passenger seat.
“Look on the bright side,” I said sweetly, emphasizing the wiggle of my shoulders as I settled into place. “You’ll have the entire back seat to stretch out those legs.”
He grumbled and glared but, in the end, climbed into the back.
Before Rowan buckled her seat belt and brought her baby roaring to life, he snapped, “Let’s not waste any more time.”
His attitude pissed me off, but his words reminded me that Celeste had already been gone for a day.
Rowan’s shoulders relaxed as she sped toward home, the inky dark sky glowing red and orange at the horizon as the sun began to rise. I glanced her direction when she pulled onto the highway.
She shrugged. “I know it’ll take longer than the back roads, but I just… honestly don’t know if I can drive that way again. At least not yet.”
“It won’t take that much longer,” I said, trying to hide my stress. Taking the highways would actually add about half an hour to our trip. It would also make us easier to find if anyone was planning to pounce on us on the way home. There was no point in saying any of that now, however, and keeping the driver of the car calm was paramount.
We both had to keep our cool. The man sitting on the back seat was a reminder that we were in the middle of a nightmare, in more ways than one. Not only had we lost our sister and the book, but now we were entertaining the Small Council equivalent of a cop, who likely considered Rowan and me accomplices to our sister’s alleged theft of the book.
As though sensing I was thinking about him, Brandon shifted, making the leather seats squeak softly, and gently cleared his throat.
I whipped my head around, shooting him another glare. “Do you have something to say?”
His eyebrows shot up, like he couldn’t believe I was actually speaking to him. I wasn’t that stupid girl from high school anymore, and the sooner he realized that, the better.
“Just that… I’m here to help too. I’m happy to drive if Rowan’s too nervous to—”
“Nobody drives my baby,” Rowan practically growled, and for once, I felt a fierce appreciation for Rowan’s attachment to this stupid hunk of metal.
“We’re on the same side,” Brandon said. “We all want to find your sister and the book.”
Only I was sure we had two different opinions about what had happened to them.
I reminded myself Lucia trusted him, but while I respected her judgment, I still wasn’t ready to give the man my full support. Sure, he wanted my sister back too, but he likely planned to haul her in front of the Small Council for a trial while I planned to wrap her up in my arms and never let her out of my sight again.
The silence was driving me crazy, so I flipped through my phone and pulled up a playlist Rowan and I both liked, me for workouts or shelving at the library after closing, her for when she was in the middle of a word sprint. A dozen songs played beginning to end as I stared out the window, letting the flat, bland scenery blend into fat lines of color before my eyes.
When I let my thoughts stray to Celeste, and how I couldn’t feel her despite our strong coven bond, panic clawed at my lungs. We had to come up with a plan, but it was impossible in the presence of the man stretched out behind us. He’d slid to the seat behind Rowan and he was now looking out the window as though lost in thought.
He’d changed since high school, not that I was surprised. He’d grown a couple of inches taller, bringing him to six foot two or three, and put on more muscle in his arms and shoulders. A lot of guys lost their good looks after high school, but if anything, Brandon Cassidy had gotten even hotter. If I hadn’t known better, I would have accused him of a glamour spell to look so good, but this was the real thing, which aggravated the hell out of me.
Brandon Cassidy was the best-looking guy I’d ever known, and he was practically breathing down my neck… only not in a good way.
It was almost a relief when he broke the suffocating silence in the car. Almost.
“Been too long, Phoebe Whelan,” he drawled, finally acknowledging that we knew each other. Sort of.
I allowed my eyes a self-indulgent half-roll before turning around again. My reserves of patience for time-wasting and stupidity had been low even before my house and general well-being had been terrorized. Now they were almost at zero. He was up to something and I refused to play along.
“What’ve you been doing with yourself all these years?” Brandon pressed on.
I took a deep breath. If I answered his questions, he might think I was cooperating. Suddenly, I was afraid I wasn’t going to cooperate, which scared the hell out of me. As surely as the sun rose every morning, Phoebe Whelan was a rule-follower.
Turned out my sister was more important. I would protect her at all costs.
Rowan shot me a look, and I wasn’t sure if she was wondering if I was going to ignore him or if she’d somehow picked up on my thoughts through our coven bond. Even though we were capable of reading each other’s thoughts, we rarely used the ability, considering it rude and invasive. But desperate times threw things like politeness out the window, as evidenced by my rude behavior with Brandon.
But in the end, the rule-follower in me won out. I told myself it was to make him trust me.
“I’m an information science professional,” I said, trying my best not to sound adversarial. “Commuted to Ohio State for classes, did my master’s remotely with NYU.”
“Wow. Guess your whole life has been about books. Well, a book,” he said. “Makes sense you’d be a librarian now.”
What an asshole. It figured he’d swap my “information science professional” for the more colloquial job title. Never mind that I called myself a librarian all the time—there was no shame in it—but I didn’t feel like hearing any mousy librarian jokes.
“Good thing we haven’t all continued on with our high school passions,” I retorted. “If we did, you’d still be wasting your life on the football field and at those stupid bonfire parties in the woods and getting shitty grades to show for it.” I didn’t actually know what kind of grades Brandon Cassidy had gotten in high school. True, he’d been in a few of my honors classes, but I couldn’t remember a single instance of him having anything interesting to contribute.
“Actually, I still do wa
ste hours on the football field,” he said in a smug tone. “If you call volunteer coaching at an urban middle school a waste. Guess some would.”
Well, hell’s bells. My cheeks burned with sudden embarrassment. Now I felt like a bitch, but I reminded myself that we were chauffeuring this man to our home so he could investigate my sister.
He could find evidence that someone kidnapped her. He could actually help you, I told myself. I wanted to believe it, but until I saw proof, I planned to tread lightly.
“You haven’t changed at all,” he mused after a few moments of silence.
“What does that mean?”
“Always assuming you knew more than everyone else. Most people figured you were right. I never did.”
Who the hell did he think he was? Now I didn’t feel so bad about the vague insult I’d thrown at him. “Listen, asshole, if you think—”
“You wanna know what I think?” he interrupted. I opened my mouth to answer him, but he didn’t give me a chance. “You and your sisters were given a big job, protecting that book all by yourselves out in the woods with only a Council Protective Force with spellwork tracking support to check up on you. No support, no real interaction with the rest of the Valeria community. I think Lucia all but forgot about you, and one of you—or hell, maybe all of you—got overwhelmed and exhausted, and now everything’s gone to shit.”
That set my anger ablaze. “Okay, first of all, we did a damn good job of protecting that book for years. Second, how do you know so much about Celeste? Has your department been checking up on us?”
One thing was clear, if they had been keeping an eye on us, we were in a lot more serious trouble than I’d originally thought. The Protective Force didn’t waste time checking out someone for the hell of it. It meant they had been investigating us for possible wrongdoing before the book had even disappeared.
Brandon dipped his head with a look of nonchalance. “Yes, ma’am. In fact, I was on duty for a few of your fortification rituals. I’d watch you walk out to the woods for the ritual, stay for a few minutes, and then go on my way.”
