Cauldrons and Confessions (Warlocks MacGregor Book 4)

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Niall carried his sister around the side of the house. This was not the first time he’d crossed paths with the hunter-warlock. It would seem the man was always coming to her rescue.

  It was just as well Niall was here too. Now he had both of them in the same location. Perhaps it was time to take his game to the next level. Niall was a hunter, used to taking on any manner of supernatural threat. Mere ghosts and goblins wouldn’t scare him. Dar doubted anything paranormal would scare a man like Niall. No, the warlock’s fear would come from something quite normal—the fear of losing his family.

  Frowning, Dar watched the leprechauns scurry around to pluck gold form the earth to put in their cauldron. He stepped toward them. They glanced at him suspiciously but didn’t stop in their task.

  “How about a little luck, lads, to help you along?” Dar asked. They smiled at him, baring pointy teeth and making soft growls, as he lightly touched their heads. When he’d gotten all of them, he stepped out of the way.

  Suddenly, giant boulders fell from the sky, landing on each and every one of the ugly beings. They puffed into tiny green clouds as he sent them back to the fairy realm where they belonged. Their cauldrons disappeared with them, taking whatever gold they managed to stuff inside.

  “Greedy bastards,” Dar muttered, as he watched the rainbow portal disappear. “Didn’t even bother to ask if I was offering good or bad luck.”

  Snow began to fall over the garden, changing the ambient light from yellow to blue. With the rainbow gone, spring was no more. He glanced over the mansion. The estate was just another testament to the power and wealth of the MacGregor family. They had properties all over the world. Yet, the first time he’d seen Malina he had no idea who she was, no idea she was a warlock casting a spell over him.

  He should have suspected what she was by the way every man in the room had stared at her. Every gesture had been a dance. And her voice. Oh, her voice. The very sound of it was a siren’s melody. He’d watched her from the shadows the second she’d walked into the Las Vegas club. Men were drawn to her, just as he’d been drawn to her. Other women paled in her presence. The only explanation was that she’d bewitched them all with a spell.

  Perhaps in that first word, his subconscious had been trying to warn him that she would be his death. “Confess.”

  “Confess what?”

  Yep, a damned siren’s song. Those two words and he’d been lost. Even now he found himself slipping on his suit jacket to walk after her through the snow. He wanted to make sure she survived the attack.

  “Come inside. A place to hide where they will never find you,” the girl spirits welcomed him in their singsong voices. They stood in the doorway as if too afraid to leave their new home. One waved at him, urging him indoors. Their eyes flashed with white before again filling in with color. “It’s safe in here, so have no fear. It’s full of magick residue.”

  Dar turned toward the hellion children, stopping his pursuit of Malina. He walked into the house, stepping over the shattered remnants of what were once kitchen appliances. Knives and forks stuck into the walls. He thrummed the end of a couple of forks, making them vibrate. One loosened and clanged onto the floor. “I like what the poltergeists have done with the place.”

  The two girls smiled brightly.

  The smelly houseguest taking up residence in the dining room was another story. He was almost sorry he’d given that nasty creature any luck. Flies swarmed over the goblin mound as if what lay inside was dead and rotting. The sound of snores came from within. Random car parts were lodged to give structure to his dung heap walls. Luckily for the ghosts, they couldn’t smell their roommate.

  Bits of wire and more car parts were strewn over the front hall and stairs. He could well but imagine the same would be true for the rest of the home. A bottle of liquor had tipped over in the corner. Drunken fairies were passed out in the sticky substance, dispersed spasmodically like insects on flypaper.

  Seeing movement, Dar held up his hands in defense as he turned. A chandelier crashed onto the floor, spreading shards of crystals around his feet. He slowly lowered his hands and looked up to see gremians swinging on the wires that had once supplied the large light fixture. They cackled gleefully at the mess they’d made.

  “Such a pity,” he said to no one in particular. This had been a lovely home.

  His eyes automatically turned in the direction he’d seen Malina in the window. He was drawn to be close to her. He hated himself for it, and yet he found himself going up the stairs and opening her bedroom door.

  “Out,” he commanded a couple of poltergeists flying around with her clothing. They looked at him as if they would protest but the two girls appeared by his side, and the ghostly fashionistas instantly disappeared. Malina’s dresses fluttered to the ground. He resisted the urge to touch them.

  In a flash, the girls were gone. The door slammed shut by the power of an invisible force. The room smelled of her perfume. It wasn’t the exact kind she’d worn when they were together, but it had the same fruitful notes.

  Dar crossed to the window he’d seen her stare out of. He peered down at the large oak in the front lawn. Lightly touching the windowpane where her finger had traced the heart, he imagined it was her flesh.

  Malina appeared near the tree with her brother, and the sight of her shook him from his reality. Snow drifted to the ground but did not obscure Dar’s view. Niall set Malina on her feet, and she swayed back and forth. The man grabbed her arm to steady her.

  “Confess,” he said, though she couldn’t hear him. His breath fogged the windowpane. “Confess that you know in this very moment you’re in love with me.” The glass cracked beneath his fingers as she looked up at him. He dropped his hand. “Only this time, make the confession be true.”

  Chapter 9

  “Lydia is not going to be happy that gremians found their way through the portal mirror into her home,” Euann’s voice came from the darkness. “And when Lydia’s not happy, Erik gets grumpy. When Erik gets grumpy… well, actually, it’s kind of funny so I’m not too worried.”

  Malina tried to open her eyes. Her lids felt heavy.

  “Let’s hope that spell we cast keeps them contained in the house,” Rory answered.

  “This reminds me of the time I got a rash. Spread like wildfire on dry branches,” Raibeart offered to the conversation. “Nasty thing.”

  “The rash or the woman who gave it to ya?” Rory teased.

  “Hey now, I deserve a little respect,” Raibeart began in protest, only to add, “but come to think about it, both.”

  Euann and Rory laughed. Malina blinked heavily trying to lift the fog blanketing her mind.

  “She’s awake,” Niall stated as if he’d been watching her for signs of life. He sat on a wooden chair next to the couch. His rigid body looked prepared for battle. She met her brother’s serious expression and knew the questions he wanted to ask before he even spoke. He leaned closer. “Did I see who I think I saw?”

  Malina pushed up from the couch and glanced around Niall’s downtown Green Vallis apartment before nodding in the affirmative. The fact that he had a couch was only because Malina had the place decorated. Otherwise, Niall would be using a mat on an empty floor. He was barely there long enough to call the place home. He wasn’t the only family member to find a residence away from the mansion. MacGregors had taken up residence around town. One thing was for certain. Since the early days in the wild Scottish countryside, her family kept close.

  Euann, Rory, and Raibeart sat at a table with a deck of cards and a half-eaten pepperoni pizza. Euann held up a slice. “Hungry? Niall has beer in the fridge.”

  Malina shook her head in denial. “What happened?”

  “Ya tried to take on the ghost army yourself, and they drained ya dry. Gremians saw ya pass through the portal. They invaded Lydia’s house,” Rory said. “There is lotion everywhere. Gramma Annabelle is pissed, according to Raibeart, but he also says she is sweet on him.”

  “She
is,” Raibeart insisted. “Even the dead ones can’t resist my many charms.”

  “Also, I think ya got goblin dung on ya cause ya smelled awful. Cait had to clean ya up and change your clothes,” Euann added. “I don’t think I’m getting my rental deposit back, so that’s two cars you’ve now ruined for me.”

  Malina gazed down to the baggy sweat pants and t-shirt that clearly belonged to one of her brothers. The t-shirt’s faded writing boasted the best tacos in the Midwest. Seeing the small hole in the thigh, she could well guess which brother. Niall.

  “Then leprechauns dropped out of the sky,” Rory said.

  “This doesn’t make sense. Leprechauns and goblins, fairies and ghosts,” Raibeart mumbled, frowning at the cards in his hand as he rearranged them.

  “Don’t forget the gremians.” Rory set his cards down and reached for a slice. He made a great show of lowering the tip into his mouth.

  “And some kind of tar creature or bog person,” Malina put forth, adding to the strange list. “I saw it in the bathroom pawing Euann’s muffler.”

  “What the hell were ya thinking of going in there alone?” Euann didn’t glance up from his hand. He threw a couple of cards on the table. “Hit me.”

  “I wasn’t.” It was true. Malina vaguely remembered following the cigar smoke through the portal. What had become abundantly clear was the dance, the eyes looking into hers, the memory of how she felt. Decades of suppression did nothing in the light of a recalled touch. Longing filled her, causing her to ache all over. Her arm tingled, and she stretched her fingers. The overwhelming emotion made it hard to concentrate on figuring out what to do about the attacks.

  “I can’t hit ya, we’re playing that number matching game,” Rory denied. “Give me your sevens.”

  “I can hit him,” Raibeart leaned up and punched Euann on the shoulder with a loud smack. “And I thought we were playing Gin Rummy.”

  “Ow, stop it. We’re playing poker, and ya know it,” Euann grumbled, making a show of rubbing his arm. He turned to direct his stare at his sister. “Damn straight ya weren’t thinking, Malina. I should hit ya upside the head for that. Or worse, I should call and tell ma on ya.”

  “Kiss up,” Malina muttered. “Leave ma alone.”

  Niall touched Malina’s arm and gave her an insistent stare. “Did ya?”

  Malina shook her head in denial. “I didn’t do it.”

  “How?” Niall insisted.

  “I don’t know,” Malina said, trying to keep her voice low.

  “But, it is?” Niall clarified.

  “Aye.” Malina nodded. “It is.”

  “Ya spoke to him?” Niall leaned closer, a deep frown furrowing his already stoic brow. His eyes glared at her as if he could force a different answer because the truth of the matter boded ill for everyone.

  “Aye.” She nodded.

  “What are the two of ya going on about?” Euann demanded. He threw his card down and declared, “I win,” before turning his attention to Niall and Malina.

  “Whatever,” Rory dismissed, also tossing down his cards.

  “Damn it,” Raibeart grumbled. “I was so close.”

  “Ya owe me a hundred dollars,” Euann told Raibeart.

  “I do?” Raibeart asked in surprise. He patted down his chest as if to materialize the money. “I don’t even remember betting. I’ll have to get it to ya later. I’m a little light after the seductress stole my wallet this morning.”

  “Malina.” Niall forced her eyes back to his, and away from the confused card game. “What did he say?”

  “What are ya talking about?” Euann stood and crossed over to them. “Why do I get the impression ya two know what’s going on here?”

  Malina looked at Niall and slightly shook her head. He’d sworn never to tell, and she desperately wanted to hold him to that promise. Niall’s serious expression didn’t change. She shook her head again. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Malina sighed.

  “This is my fault. His name is Darragh Lahey, and he’s a—for lack of a better term—a luck demon.” Malina bit her lip, not wanting to say more. If only her family could let it go with that simple explanation.

  “A luck demon? Like that Irish clan from way, way back in the day?” Rory questioned. “I didn’t even know those things were around anymore. I thought they died out long ago.”

  “Aye, he’s real,” Niall said. “Malina and I trapped him in Vegas and took care of it.”

  “I guess that makes sense if he thrives off luck. What better city than Las Vegas? I remember people accusing each other of using one when we used to go to Dublin’s gaming halls. Damn, that’d be awesome to have a guaranteed Las Vegas lucky streak. So, what’s the big deal? He just feeds off gamblers and takes their luck or something?” Euann asked.

  “Essentially, aye. Dar can give and take both good and bad luck. He’s pissed about what I did in Vegas,” she admitted. “And apparently, he’s decided to mess with me.”

  “I heard they look like little sprites,” Euann said. “Is that true?”

  “No, they’re like luck dragons,” Rory corrected. “Right, Malina?”

  “Ya went around Vegas with a dragon? Or was is a dragon-shifter?” Euann studied her, the boyish light in his eyes excited over the idea of seeing a real, live dragon.

  “He’s not a dragon or a sprite. He looks like a man.” Malina took a deep breath. A very attractive, charming man.

  “An evil man,” Niall clarified.

  “Wait, did ya have a gambling problem in Vegas? Is that why ya won’t go back or talk about it?” Rory asked Malina. “Ya got into trouble and had to deal with a luck demon?”

  “Nothing to be ashamed of, lassie. We’ve all been there a time or two,” Raibeart comforted. “Made a few bad wagers myself.” He glanced at Euann. “Even a few I don’t remember making.”

  Niall regarded her expectantly.

  “Sure,” she said. “I made a few questionable decisions. And now they’re coming back to haunt me. Literally.”

  Niall frowned. It was not the exact truth he wanted her to tell. She didn’t care.

  “Anyway, Dar was killed, and now he’s found a way to haunt me. It looks like he invited a few friends too.” Malina stood, trying to hide her nervousness as she walked to the fridge. “Someone said something about beer?”

  “That can’t be, lassie. Those that the humans classified as demi-demons don’t come back as ghosts. If anything, ya might have separated him from his mortal coil for a spell, but I guarantee he’d not be floating around in the ether for long. If ya truly killed him, he would not be showing up now.” Raibeart said. “Now hand me one of those beers.”

  “Ya had enough,” Euann denied their uncle on Malina’s behalf.

  “Ach!” Raibeart gestured in dismissal.

  Niall’s fridge was bare except for a couple of six packs of cheap beer. She grabbed a bottle and circled her finger lightly over the top to magickally unscrew the metal cap.

  “Warlocks, demi-demons,” Rory said. “Humans are always trying to give us labels and make us out to be evil bastards bent on destroying everything. If they only knew how many times we saved their asses.”

  “Demons earned their label,” Niall asserted in a low tone. “Do not lump that breed in with ours.”

  “Don’t talk to me about what the humans do,” Raibeart said, his voice loud as if he was about to launch into one of his long-winded stories. “Ya were not around when they hunted us to near extinction, or the witch trials when they murdered hundreds including your poor Aunt Elspeth. I remember this time when I—”

  “Actually,” Malina cut him off before he could get started on a rambling tale of his own awesomeness, “I was there when that happened to Aunt Elspeth since she died protecting me from witch hunters.”

  Raibeart waved a hand. “But ya don’t remember it because ya were a babe.”

  “Aye, true,” she said, mimicking the loud burr of his accent. “But ya don’t remember last Tuesday. Doesn’t m
ean ya weren’t there.”

  “Not true. Last Tuesday I drank at the bar with royals.” Raibeart stood and grabbed the beer from her hand. “I’ll take that. Thank ya verra much.”

  “It does not count as royalty if ya dubbed yourself king of something,” Rory teased.

  “Or just because someone was wearing a plastic crown,” Euann added.

  Malina ignored their continued banter as she crossed to peer out the window. If what Raibeart said about demi-demons was true, Dar wasn’t dead. But she’d been so sure. She’d seen his body. If he wasn’t dead, that meant he’d really been at the hospital, not just in spirit form. In no reality could that be a good thing.

  Dusk caressed the red brick-lined streets. Green Vallis had an Americana small town charm, one of closely set buildings and potted trees. Downtown’s decorations were changed with the seasons, the same wood Christmas wreaths, giant plastic Easter eggs, and Spring Festival banners going up and down year after year. The townsfolk liked football and parades. They walked to the park with their kids and to the post office with their mail. They waved as they drove past each other on the streets. It was nothing like Vegas. A few football bets and lottery tickets wouldn’t tempt a luck demon. This was no coincidence that Dar had come.

  “I can’t do this again. Please don’t make me,” she whispered, not sure with whom she pleaded. Forgotten memories scratched at the corners of her mind, begging to be recalled. Each glimpse brought with it more emotion than she could process.

  “Malina.” Suddenly Niall was standing beside her.

  “This can’t be happening.” She saw someone walking in the distance and held her breath until the figure came nearer. It was a woman and her poodle.

  “I won’t let him harm ya,” Niall assured her. “We will not fail again. I’m not sure what went wrong last time. I did everything I was taught.”

  “Do you remember what happened?” Malina asked, studying Niall’s expression.