Descended from Shadows: Book of Sindal Book One

by D. G. Swank

  I studied him through narrow slits. “So what exactly are you saying, Brandon?”

  “I want to drop you off with Rowan.”

  I held my tongue, trying to figure out what the hell he was up to. I wished again for a relative with aura-reading magic, but I was going to have to figure this one out on my own.

  “So… you’re saying you don’t want me to come,” I said without any hint of emotion.

  His mouth twisted to the side. “Would you agree to that?”

  I was surprised to find part of me actually believed him—he truly had looked anxious over my safety in the bar—but the rest of me saw this as a trick. Perhaps he thought he had enough of a lead to find Celeste without me. There was a strong possibility he hadn’t shared all the information he’d gleaned at the Cauldron. The problem was I wasn’t sure how to play this. Phoebe Whelan wasn’t cynical. She wasn’t calculating. And yet I found myself in a position in which I had no other choice.

  “Phoebe?”

  Should I head to Kansas City on my own? I only knew one magical family in the Kansas City area. Would I be able to find any leads on my own? Even if I did, would I really be able to save my sister from the Dark Set on my own?

  The Dark Set. I still couldn’t believe they were involved in this, and when I let my mind dwell on it, terror shot through my veins. Hundreds of witches had been murdered during their attempt to take control. If they had truly risen again, Celeste’s fate was only one of many hanging in the balance. Brandon might be willing to sacrifice one witch to save many. My sister needed someone to be her advocate… to save her.

  “No,” I said, my voice shaking with irritation. “I’m going to Kansas City with or without you. Your choice…I’m good either way.”

  He cursed under his breath, his hands wringing the steering wheel.

  We rode in silence after that, stopping outside of Columbus for gas and more greasy fast food. I almost protested another high-fat, meat-centric meal—Rowan would have been horrified—but getting a decent meal would take an hour and we didn’t have time to spare.

  We hit the road again, settling into an uncomfortable silence. Brandon seemed irritated with me, but I saw the sidelong glances he gave me from time to time that suggested he was also thinking of other things.

  The sun had begun to set, and as I watched the slow deepening of the broad brush-strokes streaking the sky, from salmon to tangerine to flame, I thought about how much Celeste loved sunrises and sunsets. She had on more than one occasion dragged me out of bed to see a particularly beautiful sunrise.

  One morning a few months ago, we’d sat on the front porch watching the horizon change colors through the trees and Celeste had quietly said, “As much as I love having witch’s blood, and the talents that come with it, I realize it’s only one kind of magic. Nature—the changing days and seasons—that’s a whole other kind of magic, one blessedly just out of reach of our kind.”

  I turned to her in surprise. “Do you love your power, Celeste?”

  She gave me a nervous smile as she cupped her mug of tea, her gaze lifted to the horizon. “I’ve come to appreciate it more than I used to.”

  Her response had surprised me at the time. Now I was left wondering whether there was any way she’d created the pentacle on the ground. What had spurred her to begin to appreciate the power she’d always claimed felt like constant chaos in her head? Whatever it was, would it make her thirst for more power?

  Had someone from the Dark Set reached out to her? What was their motivation? Then a new thought hit me, and I turned to Brandon. “How did the Dark Set find out about the Book of Sindal?”

  He gave me a startled look. “What?”

  “The only people who supposedly know the Book of Sin still exists are members of the Small Council and a small group within the Protective Force. At least one of them has to be involved in this.”

  He remained quiet, and then it hit me.

  “You knew word had gotten out.”

  He pushed out a long breath but didn’t answer.

  “What else aren’t you telling me?” I demanded, sitting up straighter in my seat.

  “Phoebe, this is an active Protective Force investigation,” he said, but he sounded defeated.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Do you still think Celeste’s guilty?”

  His jaw tightened, and he looked exhausted in the glow of the dashboard lights. “I have a choice, Phoebe, follow my heart or follow my directives, and I find myself questioning the one thing that’s made sense in my life for the past six years.”

  My mouth parted as I held back a gasp of surprise. This could be an act, but my gut told me otherwise. Real conflict was waging on his face.

  “Six months ago, we were conducting a routine check of your magic logs in regard to the book. Something about Celeste’s magic looked… off.”

  “How so?” I asked, shocked he was sharing this with me.

  “It’s hard to describe,” he said, leaning over the steering wheel. “She’s always been vague in what she records, and I’ve—we’ve never pushed it. Expression magic is vague, and frankly, hardly anyone understands it. So we’ve let her do her thing, but we kept a closer eye on the ritual as her magic became more and more erratic. Then, two months ago, something changed.”

  “What?” I asked, horrified at what I was hearing and equally shocked that he was telling me.

  “Her power suddenly appeared more controlled.”

  Two months ago would have fit in with my sunrise conversation with Celeste. Two months ago, she’d begun to appreciate her magic. Two months ago, she’d nearly killed the man in the factory too. “Controlled” is not how I would have described Celeste. Unless she’d known exactly what she was doing.

  “Did you investigate?” I asked, my stomach in knots.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not to any great extent. I decided to watch the property during last month’s fortification ritual, but I didn’t want to get too close to any of you.” His face flushed. “I was in the woods and I was closer to the graveyard than I realized. I accidently saw you strip and shift into a deer, and I nearly hightailed it out of there.”

  “Why?”

  He gave me a long look before turning back to the road. “For one thing, it was a violation of your privacy, albeit an accidental one. I didn’t want to be there when you shifted back, because that wouldn’t be accidental at all, and you deserve better than to have some man lusting after your body when you have no idea he’s even there.” He paused, then shot me another look, darker and full of desire. “I told myself the next time I saw your naked body, you would be fully cognizant of how much I wanted you.”

  The breath left my lungs in a whoosh and a raging inferno of lust shot through my body.

  He shifted in his seat again, looking uncomfortable. “The fact is, I didn’t stay much longer after that. I cut my investigation short. I was mostly there to observe Celeste, and I never made it to her circle to see what she was up to.” He paused. “I let my personal feelings overshadow my investigation. I can’t help thinking that if I’d stayed, I could have stopped it from happening.”

  “Stopped her from taking the book, you mean?” I asked quietly, not as angry at his conclusion as I told myself I should be.

  “I know you think I suspect her, Phoebe, but I don’t. It’s obvious that she was tricked into letting someone from the Dark Set create a weakness in the protections, at best.”

  He didn’t say what the “at worst” was.

  “If I’d gathered the evidence I’d been looking for,” he continued,” I could have petitioned the Small Council to move it.”

  “Move the book?” I asked in horror.

  “It obviously wasn’t safe where it was,” he said, some of his attitude returning.

  “How about sharing your concerns with Rowan or me?” I shot back.

  Anger set his jaw. “And what would you have chosen to protect, Phoebe? Your sister or the Book of Sindal?”


  He had a point and I didn’t feel like arguing with him anymore. My feelings toward him were so conflicted, and on top of everything else, it only added to my exhaustion.

  A road sign ahead announced an exit with gas, food, and lodging, and to my surprise, Brandon hit the turn signal.

  “Do you need to stop again?” I asked.

  “I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. The best thing we can do is get a good night’s sleep and tackle this fresh in the morning.”

  I couldn’t believe he would back off the trail so easily. “Do you already have part of your team in Kansas City trying to track them down?”

  “The only member of the Protective Force going after this is me. You’re right. Someone who knew that the Book of Sindal was on your property took an active role in removing it, and while it could have been a member of the Small Council, I suspect it’s someone on the force. So I’m watching my team and going after this on my own. If one of them starts heading for Kansas City… let’s just say it might make it easier for me to root out who’s involved this way.”

  “All the more reason to keep going,” I said.

  “No. We need sleep, or we’ll put ourselves and everyone else in danger when we try to deal with the Dark Set.”

  Logically, I knew he was right, but it felt so wrong to not push on. Celeste needed me, and I was checking into a hotel room to sleep.

  He pulled off the highway, then parked in the lot of a nicer hotel than I’d expected him to choose since we were only there to sleep. After he parked the car, we hopped out and he grabbed two bags out of the back—mine and one for him, although I wondered where his had come from—then we headed toward the front doors.

  “How do you have a bag?” I asked.

  He looked taken aback. “What?”

  “How do you have a bag?” I asked, motioning to his pack. “You went straight from the Council meeting to our house.”

  He scowled. “We always keep bags packed and ready to go. My agents brought it to your house in case.” He paused, then added, “And just so you’re not caught off guard, I’m requesting one room. I’m not trying to pull one over on you. I would feel better being close to you in case something happens. We need to stick together, not to mention that setting and maintaining a protection charm on two rooms is much more difficult—”

  “Okay,” I agreed, realizing it made sense, but there was no denying the whole thing made me nervous. I was attracted to Brandon Cassidy, and for the first time since this all started, I felt like our objectives were nearly the same. And, fool that I was, I believed he cared about me. But sleeping with him now would only complicate things, and things were already complicated enough. “One room. Two beds.”

  “Of course.”

  It wasn’t until after we’d checked in, when we were riding the elevator up to our room, that I let myself feel nervous. The two of us alone in a hotel room…

  I wasn’t worried that Brandon would try to take advantage of me. Somehow I knew he wouldn’t. I was more worried that I would be tempted to take advantage of him.

  Silence hung between us as we let ourselves in with the key card and Brandon dropped our bags onto our respective beds.

  One peek at the gorgeous marble-encased bathroom made me ache for a shower. I gestured to the restroom. “Do you need to go? I want to take a shower.”

  “I’m good,” he said. “Go ahead.”

  Unzipping my bag, I pulled out my toiletry bag and headed into the bathroom.

  A stand-up shower with double heads greeted me, and in the opposite corner, a large jacuzzi tub held trays full of lotions, bath bombs, and other beauty products. The bathtub at our farmhouse was claw-footed and much shallower.

  My thoughts meandered to what it would feel like to soak in that tub, and then, unbidden, an image of Brandon in the tub with me popped into my head. I started a bit, but hells, the fantasy only became more detailed and elaborate—I could see every muscle of his back, arching up gracefully into the tendons of his neck. His shoulders were high, not sloping down like some men’s did, and I imagined him turning in the tub, displaying his strong chest. And his abs? Well, apparently my imagination wanted to leave something for me to discover for myself, however unlikely that was to happen, because in this particular delirious daydream, they were below the waterline of the tub.

  My thighs clenched together against a sudden surge of sensitivity between my legs, and I shut my eyes reflexively, huffing out a breath through my nose.

  Brandon started to cough on the other side of the door. They didn’t sound like the type of coughs that came from a chest cold—more like when shock leads you to take in a sharp breath and you end up coughing to catch your breath. Given that intruders could be at the door to our room at any time, I panicked and opened the bathroom door.

  “Are you okay out there?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed and gave me a startled look. “Fine. I drank some water that, uh, went down the wrong pipe.”

  I shut the door and turned on the multiple shower heads.

  A shower turned out to be exactly what I needed. An expensive hotel apparently meant exquisitely strong water pressure from both shower heads—something I wasn’t used to with our low-pressure well water. When I finished, I was clean from head to toe and feeling somewhat relaxed. But as soon as I stepped out of the shower, I realized I’d left my clean clothes in the room. I refused to put my dirty ones back on, so I wrapped a towel around myself and walked into the room, heading purposely toward my bag.

  Brandon sucked in a lungful of air, then said in a casual tone, “Have a good shower?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, pretending like I pranced around in a towel all the time, which I actually did, just not in front of men. After grabbing a clean cami top, panties, and a pair of pajama shorts, I started for the bathroom.

  It took me a few minutes to get dressed and brush my teeth. Brandon had moved to the desk by the time I emerged, and he glanced up from his laptop to look at me.

  “Your phone’s been buzzing with texts. Rowan.” Then he quickly added, “I didn’t read them, just saw her name on your screen.”

  “Thanks.”

  I picked up my phone, realizing it was almost dead and would need to plug it in soon. Rowan had sent multiple texts asking for an update, and then, when I hadn’t immediately responded, she’d demanded I call her at once.

  I wasn’t going to call her with Brandon listening, so I opted for a text after trying to use our coven bond and realizing the distance was too far for conversation. I could feel Rowan, safe and healthy, but she was too distant to reach this way.

  I’d barely started tapping when Brandon said, “Don’t tell her where we are or where we’re going.”

  My back stiffened. “Now you don’t trust Rowan?”

  “No, Phebes, that’s just it. She’s being guarded by my agents. If one of them is behind this, they could use the information against us.” He paused. “The less everyone else knows, the better.”

  His reasoning made sense, but I was still uncomfortable. “The fact you don’t trust your men and they’re currently watching my sister isn’t exactly putting me at ease.”

  “Judah Hardcastle is there. He’s a good man and he’ll protect her at all costs. She’s safe.”

  I could have argued with him but saw no point. Instead, I sent Rowan a text. Still on the road. Watch your back. Trust no one. Love you.

  I sat on my bed, realizing as I pushed send on the text that it had been hours since I’d last tried to connect with Celeste through our coven bond. I closed my eyes and focused on my sisters. Rowan blipped onto my radar again. But Celeste… I felt nothing.

  “What do you know about coven bonds?” I asked as I opened my eyes.

  Turning his desk chair to face me, Brandon gave me an appraising look. “Care to be more specific?”

  “My mother taught us everything we know, but honestly, we’ve never really tested ours much. We live together, and we rarely travel. But Mom told us that if
one of us died, we’d know. For most covens, the effect would be a sucking loss, deep in the souls of the remaining coven members. For our family, so tight-knit because of our responsibility to protect the book, the effects would be physical as well. I’m sure that’s what killed my father and my mother’s sister only a month later.” Our aunt had been ill already—cancer—but died much sooner than anyone had expected.

  Our parents’ relationship hadn’t been the best when our mother had died—the late-night conversations, always about Council matters, had grown increasingly heated—but coven bonds ran far deeper than small arguments. It was how I could be so different from my sisters and so close to them at the same time. I tried not to think about what that might mean for Rowan and me if Celeste were actually dead. The thought was immediately replaced by guilt.

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, and asked softly, “Is that what you feel now? A sucking loss?”

  “No,” I said. “That’s just it. I feel nothing. No loss. No presence. It’s like she’s simply been erased.” I searched his worried face. “Do you know what it means?”

  He took a breath, clearly hesitating.

  “You do.”

  “Phoebe…” He sat up, but his green eyes still held mine. “It usually means the coven member has purposely broken her or his bond.”

  I took a second to let his words sink in.

  “I’m sorry.”

  It was the sincerity in his eyes that broke me.

  Tears welled in my eyes. “So she really did betray us.”

  Brandon got up from his chair and sat down next to me, wrapping an arm around my back, tugging me closer. “Not necessarily, Phebes.”

  “How can you say that?” I asked, starting to cry. “You’re the one who thinks she played a part in stealing the Book of Sin.”

  He pulled my head to his shoulder, hugging me tighter. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” His voice was rough. “But I do know the three of you are close. I can’t see her actively betraying you. Which means she might have broken her coven bond to protect you.”