by Cate Dean
“I understand, Mom. And I love you for protecting me. But there are things I need to know now. Things I need to understand about what being a Seer means.”
She sighed, and took my hand. “You have more power than I did, because of who your father was.” Pain edged her voice; she hated talking about my father, and I knew it was because she missed him so much. That she even mentioned him now told me how important it was for me to know. “I assume the Queen knows of you by now.”
“The Prince of the Dark Court showed up at my store today.”
She jerked, and gripped my hand. “Did Lachlan hurt you?” Fury like I’d never seen flared in her blue eyes. “Did he touch you?”
“No, Mom.” I kept my voice even, calm, to try and take the edge off her fury. “He was interrupted by my new employee before he could do more than threaten.”
“New employee?” That caught her off guard. “You hired someone to help you?”
I shrugged. “I’m going to need some help now. I have a gift, Mom, and if I can use it to help people, I will. I don’t think that’s going to happen outside of retail hours.”
She smiled for the first time since I showed up. “I am so very proud of you, Reese.” Tears filled her eyes, and I squeezed her hand. “I wasn’t sure you would be able to handle what you are, but you have done that, and more. How is—how are things with—Bran?”
I bit back a smile. “Good.” It was my turn to sandwich her hands. “I’m in love with him, Mom.”
“I’m not surprised.” She let out a sigh. “He is so like—” she cut herself off and pulled free of my grasp.
“My father?”
“I don’t want to talk about him, Reese.”
“You brought him up.” I said it gently, but I wouldn’t let it go. Not this time.
“Your father is dead to us, Reese. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”
“Why am I stronger because of him?”
Mom stood and stalked out of the library.
I followed her, refusing to let her tactics of running and avoiding work this time. I trapped her in the kitchen, standing in the doorway. It was the only room with one entrance. She had always meant to knock down the wall between the kitchen and the dining room, but she never got around to it. She was probably regretting that about now.
“Reese—”
“I need to know.” When she crossed her arms and stared past me, I moved to her and laid my hands on her shoulders. “Please, Mom.”
With a sigh, she eased out of my grip and sat at the kitchen table. “This isn’t easy for me, Reese.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” I sat across from her.
“Your father was a wizard.”
I stared at her, glad I was sitting down. Of all the descriptions I had built up in my mind over the years, that was never one of them. “A wizard?” I whispered.
“We met in Ireland. In the West, on Samhain, when the Veil between our realms is thin. Aidan was taking photos of a faerie ring, and I stepped into it.” She looked down at the table, her expression soft. “I knew, the moment I met his eyes, that he would steal my heart.”
“Was he a wizard, when you met him?”
Mom looked up at me. “Yes,” she said, her voice quiet. “He was in Ireland to study, in a place not far from where we met. He had been drawn to the faerie ring by the Queen, because his power, his blood, was Fae-touched.”
“How?”
“It came to him through an ancestor, and is quite rare. Most mortals who had been touched by the Fae were only mortal, without power. The Touch would have given them heightened senses, or the ability to find things easily. With your father—”
“It enhanced his power.”
“Yes. The Queen wanted him, in her Court, but he had to step through the Veil on his own. I was there that night to warn him, keep him from walking into her trap.” She squeezed my hand, her eyes bright in a way I had never seen before. “I never regretted going to him that night, Reese. And I don’t regret anything that happened after. I love your father, with every beat of my heart. I miss him more today than I did yesterday.”
“Is he still alive?”
Mom stared at me for endless minutes before she answered. “Yes, Reese. But he might as well be dead.”
“Why?” I whispered.
“Because,” Mom cradled my hands, and I knew what she was about to say wouldn’t be good. “He gave his life to the Light Court to save ours.”
~ ~ ~
Mom and I talked for hours after that, and she told me stories—about her and my father, Aidan, meeting in secret, even after she was warned to stay away from him.
Their secret wedding, performed at the edge of the Cliffs of Moher on a rare, windless night, was the most romantic thing I’d ever heard in my life. I wanted to know more about every minute, every detail, but I could tell she was becoming overloaded emotionally.
“Thank you, Mom.” I hugged her, and we held onto each other for a while, rocking together. When I let go, she had tears staining her cheeks. “Mom—”
“I’m okay, honey. Talking about your father—it’s opened a part of my heart I closed away a long time ago. It felt good. But he is part of our past, Reese, and you have to accept that. He’s beyond our reach.”
“What if I—”
“Don’t you even think of it.” She shook me, to drive her point home. “Do you understand me, Reese Pierpoint? You are not to go after your father.”
“Okay.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.” For now. When the time was right, I would find him.
I had something the Queen wanted, after all. I would be in a position to negotiate.
After another long goodbye hug, Mom let me go and I walked to my car, pulling out my cell phone. I tapped in Bran’s number and he picked up on the first ring.
“Have a good talk, Reese?”
“I’ll tell you about it when I get there.” I opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. “Anything exciting happen to you?”
When he paused, I knew something had happened. “I’ll tell you about it when you get here.”
“All of it, Bran.”
He paused again, and I knew there was going to be more prodding in my future. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”
I ended the call, closed my door, and waved to Mom before I started the car and took off. I wanted to get to Bran as fast as possible—before he had too much time to figure out what he wanted to say, without actually telling me what he didn’t want me to know.
I’d had enough of that for one day.
Twenty Four
Bran heard Reese’s car coming up his long, narrow driveway. He stepped outside and waited for her. This was something he could get used to.
She climbed out of her old, boxy sedan, and smiled at him. “I’m starving. Anything planned for dinner?”
“I brought home Chinese.”
“Now I know I love you.”
He met her at the back of the car and pulled her into his arms, needing to touch her. “Good to know you’re so easy to please,” he whispered against her ear.
“Only about certain things.” She sounded breathless. “Like not having to make dinner.”
Bran gave in to his need, and kissed her. They had only been apart a few hours, but he had missed her, more than he expected. If he had his way, she wasn’t leaving him. Not tonight. Not ever.
He thought that would scare him. Instead, it felt right.
“Chinese is getting cold,” he whispered.
“Do you have a microwave?”
He smiled, kissing her ear before he answered. “As a matter fact, I do.”
“Then I’d like—” she gasped as he nibbled on her earlobe. “Bran—”
“Tell me, Reese.”
“I’d like—” she took a shaky breath. “You.”
Bran picked her up and carried her inside, stopping long enough to set the manual alarm. Most Fae could get past it,
but they often didn’t recognize it for what it was, so it was a good first alert. He kept going, toward the bedroom at the back of the house, and sat on the edge of the bed with Reese in his lap.
He had turned on lights in every room before she arrived, to show her that he understood her fear, and would never try to help her get over it. As Fae, that fear was imprinted on her soul.
“I want you to stay tonight,” he said.
“I want that, too.” She framed his face with her hands, her dark blue eyes sober. “But before you ravish me in this really nice bed, we need to talk.”
“Reese—”
“You almost did it, Bran. You almost distracted me enough to forget.” She kissed him, fast but tender, and climbed off his lap. “Now, where is that Chinese?”
~ ~ ~
They were in bed when Reese finally dragged what happened at Bran’s office out of him. Most of it, anyway.
“So,” she said. “Maeve didn’t know.”
“I wouldn’t have believed her, except I saw the look on her face. She was well and truly shocked, Reese.”
“She gave me the impression that she knew everything, about everyone, on both sides of the Veil.”
Bran pulled her in, and draped his leg over her hip. “Normally, she does. But whoever is working with Torlogh is covering their tracks well. Maeve had no idea.”
“What’s our next move?”
Bran stared up at the ceiling, not wanting to say what he had to say next. “We need to find out exactly what Torlogh has planned. And in order to do that, we need to find the Fae working with him.” He rubbed Reese’s back when she shivered, slow and soothing. “I’ll be here, every step of the way. They won’t get to you, sweetheart. I promise you that.”
She laid her head on his shoulder, and let out a quiet sigh. “They’ve already tried twice now, Bran. What’s that saying—third time is the charm? The third time is coming.”
“If we can figure out the how, we can get a few steps ahead of him.” Bran kissed the top of her head. “Turn on your side, sweetheart.” She smiled, already knowing what he wanted. He scooted in behind her, tucking his legs up under hers. Reese was the first woman he had ever wanted to hold like this, and the need, the craving for it, surprised him. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until we stop him.”
“Bran—”
“I’m between cases, so I can be your shadow. I need to do this, Reese. I need to know that you’re safe.”
She laid her arm over his. “I think I’m good with that. I’ve never had a shadow, so it may end up irritating the hell out of me.” She smiled, and snuggled against him. “Looks like we’ll find out.”
He let out his breath, and relaxed against her, waiting for her to fall asleep. For now, she only needed the information that would help her. No reason to dump every little detail on her—like the unrest on the other side of the Veil. She already had enough on her plate.
Bran made a promise to himself—he would tell her everything, the second he knew she was safe.
~ ~ ~
Bran’s cell phone jerked him out of a sound sleep.
He could tell by how dim the room was that it was early. Groaning, he reached over Reese, and grabbed his phone off the nightstand, checking the caller ID before he answered. It was Nick—and most likely not good news.
“What is it, Nick?”
“I need your help, Bran.” The fact that he skipped his usual greeting had Bran sitting up. “And Reese’s help, if she’s available.”
“She’s here with me. Hold on a minute.” He eased out of bed and headed for the bathroom, closing the door. “Tell me what happened.”
“I’m at the elementary school.” Bran closed his eyes, knowing what came next wasn’t going to be good. “Two kids didn’t make it to school this morning.”
“Isn’t it too early for school?”
“Two classes were meeting for a field trip. After they did a headcount, they realized there was one missing from each class. A brother and sister.” Nick paused, and Bran knew he was choosing his next words carefully. “The teacher called home, asking if they had left for the school yet. It seems the parents had dropped them off at the corner on their way to work.”
Bran ran one hand through his hair. “So they should have been there.”
“They were a two minute walk from the back of the school.” Nick paused again; this time Bran could feel the anger pouring through the phone. “The same bastard took them, Bran. I need your Seer here. I need her to tell me I’m right, to tell me what happened.”
Bran didn’t want Reese anywhere near this. But he knew she’d want to help the second she found out that kids were involved.
“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“Thanks.”
Nick ended the call, and Bran leaned against the wall, trying not to visualize those two scared kids. Despite his warning, Torlogh had taken them. Bran recognized the ritual now, and wanted to smack himself for not seeing it sooner.
The bastard was trying to create a permanent portal. Each sacrifice was younger, because the younger the offering, the purer the blood. Two elementary school kids—and brother and sister to boot—would create a portal that he might be able to lock open.
Bran pushed off the wall and walked out of the bathroom. Reese sat in the middle of the bed, her dark brown hair disheveled, the blonde streak on her right side stark in the early morning sun.
“How bad?”
He sat on the bed and took the hand she held out to him. “Torlogh’s minion grabbed two elementary school kids. Brother and sister.”
She swallowed and squeezed his hand. “I’ll get dressed.”
“Wear one of my shirts,” he said. “It’s going to be cold out, and I don’t know how long we’ll be there.”
“Okay.” She walked into his big closet and returned wearing his favorite denim shirt. “Will this be all right?”
He moved to her and slid his hands down her arms. “I would love to see you in this,” he whispered, brushing her lips with his. “But only here, in my bedroom, where I can strip you out of it, button by button.”
She swallowed. “I’ll find another shirt you’re less—attracted to.”
This time, she came back wearing a plaid shirt he never wore. He would still like to take it off her, slowly, but he could restrain himself with this shirt. After he nodded, she grabbed her jeans and panties and went into the bathroom.
Bran had made other plans for this morning—at least in his head. But two missing kids took precedence over a lazy breakfast in bed.
When Reese came out of the bathroom, he had to stop and stare. She had pulled her hair back, and with the jeans, boots, and his plaid shirt, she looked—dangerous. He liked this Reese.
He also knew that Maeve would hate the way she looked on sight. Too mortal, too ordinary. That made her new look even more appealing.
“Ready,” she said. She watched him tuck the last knife in his boot, her eyebrows raised. “Is there anything I should take?”
“Do you have your jewelry on?”
She pulled up the sleeve of her jacket, revealing the bracelet. Lamplight winked off the stone in her ring. “I never take it off.” A smile tugged at her lips, and Bran wanted to feel that smile against his lips. “You were obviously too occupied last night—and this morning—to notice.”
“Bring that smart mouth over here.”
“Is that an order?”
“A request.”
“In that case,” she strode over to him and grabbed the front of his shirt. “Here’s my smart mouth, handsome. Do your worst.”
“If only I had the time.” He kissed her, hard and fast, then took her hand and led her out of the bedroom. “Rain check.”
She nodded, quiet by the time they got to his car. Bran opened the door for her, closed it behind her, and hopped over the door on his side. They were halfway down the hill before she spoke again.
“You think Torlogh took them, don’t you?”
> “They’re brother and sister, Reese.” He glanced over at her when he reached a stop sign. “And they’re young. Their blood would generate a good amount of power.” As much as he hated saying it, she needed to know.
“Thank you for telling me.”
She stared out the windshield, and didn’t say another word.
Twenty Five
After I got over the shock of his answer, I studied Bran as he drove us to the elementary school. I knew he had enough weapons on him to take down several opponents—and a stash big enough to mount a good-sized battle. I should have looked at him differently. Instead, I found myself admiring him even more. He knew what needed to be done, and he had given himself the tools to get it done.
We stopped in the small back parking lot, behind a familiar blue sedan. Since I had seen it at the last crime scene, I was guessing it belonged to Detective Phillips. Bran vaulted out of the convertible, over the driver’s door, with such grace I caught myself staring.
Most of the men I had dated were clumsy in comparison. He moved around to the passenger side and opened the door for me. I could get used to this. I slid out of the car and took his hand, as if I had done it every day for years. He closed the door, pulled me in, and kissed my temple.
“Stay close to me, and let me do the talking. Nick wants you to do your Seer bit, but I don’t want any other witnesses while you do.”
I nodded, squeezing his hand. I understood his reason for taking the lead; he had been in this world a lot longer than I had, and he knew where to step—and where not to step. We headed to the small crowd gathered next to a bright yellow school bus. Detective Phillips spotted us and waved.
He held out his hand when we reached him. “Thank you both for coming.” Bran shook his hand, and to my surprise, Detective Phillips held out his hand to me. “Thank you for doing this.” He lowered his voice, so only Bran and I could hear. “I know you are new to this world, and I appreciate you stepping up.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to help.” I meant it. I didn’t think I could bear to see another child at a crime scene, mangled and bloody because one being wanted to escape the consequences of what he’d done.
