“Now why would you do that? What type of person would collect weapons?”
Seriously? I was pretty darn pleased with that spur of the moment answer and the woman had to analyze it? Since she questioned everything in the other life as well, it was interesting to discover that some things would never change.
“They’re only swords, Mom. Decorative items… something to hang in your home to make the wall look pretty.”
“That is still a weapon. Who are Maude’s clients that collect such things? Perhaps you shouldn’t work there if these are the type of people she attracts to her business.”
“I’m fine. Really, no need to be worried.” It’s marked spirits and a few evil Warlocks needing the worry… from me.
“I’m simply concerned about my only daughter. Is that too much to ask?”
Yes. I bit my lip. It wasn’t real. Her concern… the real her didn’t care one iota if Maude signed on dangerous clients, ones I spoke with on a daily basis. The real her probably thought being attacked by some sword-wielding sicko would be just desserts for not living up to my potential instead of settling for a receptionist job. The acknowledgment of the truth slammed into me. Hard. “I’ve got to go. Need to get ready for work.”
“Please give Lacey a call, she’s really worried that she upset you with those accusations. She knows you’d never do anything to harm her. The two of you have been best friends for years. Like sisters. And Kiara?”
Yes, Mom?”
“Please stay safe.”
Stay safe. So many kind and concerned words had been pouring out of my mother’s mouth over the last several days. Ones I’d never heard during the first twenty-six years of my life. Well, I’d heard them… directed at my brother, not me. Figuring out how to undo Trashae’s mess needed to be a top priority. My emotions couldn’t handle my mother’s faux-caring for much longer.
The phone beeped another text message. Lacey.
Kiara, I’m so sorry. You’re my oldest friend. Can we have dinner and talk?
With an agitated grunt, I tossed the phone onto the mattress and headed toward the shower. The day was already starting off as a long one, and I hadn’t even been awake for half an hour.
My presumption of slow, ticking minutes that the calendar referred to as a Thursday became realized. By the time dusk finally settled—eons later—I still remained on a payroll. Miss Prim hadn’t burned down the building during her attempts to invent a Psycho Praedator weapon that closely resembled a blow torch, and no evil Warlock had made a show. All was good—enough—in my book. The only hiccup to my day was one Brock Connelly who’d walked out the front door of Fated Match after his consultation with Maude without a scheduled date with Desiree Hurst. Luckily, Maude hadn’t noticed, and I still had time to fix things. Yup, time—as in hours. Literally. But I’d take what I could get. Therefore, I refused to worry about Desiree’s date as I began my trek to meet Aunt Kate. Because another problem took my focus instead. Similarities… there were too dang many of them leading up to this evening’s meal that reminded me of my very first dinner with Damon Reed.
Unexpected text message the day of the dinner request. Check. Italian bistro. Check. Nerves were not only on edge upon discovery that my aunt was already seated when I approached the restaurant host, but searing. Painful sharp pricks of please don’t let my aunt be back to her old antics.
I approached the table and relief whooshed through me. Aunt Kate was seated with an age-appropriate man—for her, not me. Despite her numerous attempts to hook me up over the years, the phone numbers she’d collected on my unauthorized behalf had only been from men aged within a couple of years of my own. Then dread filled me because there was a third occupant seated at the table. One dead Irish woman named Anna Dunne. How the hell did she keep finding me? Was I outfitted with some sort of tracker?
“Kiara.” Aunt Kate beamed, distracting me from the I-don’t-care-that-you’re-an-evil-ghost, leave glare I’d cast. “Meet Eric Harris. Eric, this is my niece, Kiara Blake.”
Eric stood as I approached, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Kiara.”
I studied him as I shook. Early-to mid-fifties. Tall. Dark hair with silver at the temples that gave him a distinguished appearance. Small wire-framed spectacles perched on his nose, indicating intelligence—or the perception of, at least. It was his eyes, however, that allowed the stiff muscles in my shoulders to soften into jelly. Warmth radiated through dark irises, and instinct gave a ping that trustworthiness was synonymous with one Eric Harris.
“Pleased to meet you.” I took my seat, which happened to be next to the dead woman the other occupants at the table hadn’t noticed. “Aunt Kate mentioned you’ve translated more of the prophecy?”
“Kiara,” Aunt Kate said. “We can at least wait until the meal is ordered before discussin’ business.”
The cold stare I’d so often been on the receiving end of was redirected toward my aunt. Anna, for one, apparently wished for this conversation to take place. Now.
“No, no.” Eric gave a dismissive gesture with his hand. “It is fine by me. I expect Kiara’s curious about her own future, and I would be too if I were in her place.”
I paused. The revelation that Aunt Kate had gone as far as to reveal that this research pertained personally to my life was either telling or stupid. I hoped for the former, worried about the latter, as I forced a grin to my lips. “What my grandmother managed to translate before her death was something about me defeating the Princes of Hell and Earth and will be protected.”
“Yes, the full prophecy reads that she, born during the reign of Caesar, has the blood with the power to entrap. Elements will be on her side. Born of a deity, she will prevail defeating the Princes of Hell. The Demon of Wrath at the last battle. The thresholds will close. Earth will be shielded.”
“Princes of Hell… aren’t there seven?”
“Yes.” Eric took a sip from the water goblet before continuing. “Lucifer is the most well-known due to his disagreement with God. In fact, Hell would have never been established if not for Lucifer. He is the Demon of Pride. What is less well-known is there are six other fallen angels who rule Hell along with him. Mammon is the Demon of Greed. Asmodeus, the Demon of Lust. Leviathan, the Demon of Envy. Beelzebub, the Demon of Gluttony. Satan, the Demon of Wrath, and Belphegor, the Demon of Sloth.”
Lots of names pertaining to my destined future that I would never remember. Great. I waited until after the server approached our table and then departed before turning back to Eric. “What does this mean?”
“I’m not at all certain. This myth is not one that’s common, and I’d never before heard about it until speaking with your aunt. It will take me some time to dig into the research on this.”
Saving the earth from Hell was not common? Wow. “What else have you learned from the journal?”
“Not much. I haven’t looked through a lot of it yet, my focus started with the prophecy itself. The bits and pieces I have translated make me think a lot of it is simply Caitriona writing down her own thoughts about the subject.”
“Who’s Caitriona?”
“Our ancestor,” Aunt Kate said. “This is her journal.”
Oh… right. “I’d always thought of the journal as my grandmother’s, never about the person who wrote it. What about the book on Celtic Mythology?”
Anna straightened into alertness beside me.
“There’s a small section regarding the history surrounding the prophecy. It appears this prophecy may have something to do with the Gallic Wars.”
“Those were waged by Julius Caesar, correct?” Aunt Kate asked.
“Yes.” Eric pulled the book from a bag and opened it to a section before turning to her. “His war lasted eight years, and it allowed him to expand Rome over France and Belgium, which were once called Gaul. This is where your ancestors originated from. They were Celtic Gauls.”
“Not from Ireland?” I asked.
“Not originally.”
E
ric closed the book. Anna reached over and opened it. Clearly, the ghost felt more on the subject needed to be said. There was only a slight problem with her plan. The man who could provide the information Anna wanted told was too busy gaping at the book while his chair was shoved as far back from the table as he could move it.
“The building is rather… drafty,” Aunt Kate said, her eyelids blinking rapidly at the now unmoving pages several times before glancing up at me with questioning eyes.
Pulling the book toward me, I studied the written words it was opened to. Not that I could understand them. “Are these the pages where the prophecy is discussed?”
Eric glanced down. “Yes.”
“What do those symbols marked on the bottom stand for?”
“Tuatha Dé Danann. Symbols of the tribe of the goddess Danu.” Eric shook his head and pulled his chair closer to the table. “I don’t know how this would relate to your prophecy. They’re hand drawn on the page, probably the last owner of the book was scribbling on the first thing they’d found to write on. I wouldn’t concern yourself with it.”
Anna reached out an arm and blocked Eric from closing the book a second time. His eyes widened as the book refused to shut by an invisible force.
“You know,” I said. “I think Tuatha Dé Danann means something. Would it be possible for you to look into this when you do further research on my prophecy?”
Eric’s gaze lifted to mine, and he quickly nodded before flagging down a passing waiter. While he ordered a double Scotch, and Aunt Kate ordered a second bottle of wine, despite not having finished the first, I lowered my voice and whispered to the ghost still seated by my side.
“Is this what you wanted? For me to know about the Danu?”
Anna nodded, and her face lit into a smile. A smile. Wiggling her fingers in a goodbye, she proofed.
What the… Seriously? The ghost had stalked me for more than a week while looking as if she’d like nothing more than to murder me in my sleep, and all she wanted was to let me know I should check out some Celtic goddess?
Ghosts were driving me crazy. Mental.
“Kiara?” Aunt Kate asked. “Do you need another glass of wine?”
“Yes, please.” Or four.
The waiter returned to the bar from our table, and I quickly caught on to Eric’s new dilemma.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “You can put the book away. There are no more drafts in the building.”
Aunt Kate stared at me for a long moment before pouring more wine into her already half-filled glass. Discussing my ability to see the dead must not be in the same category as actually being around the spirits in Aunt Kate’s book of definitions.
“So… uh.” Eric cleared his throat. “Where were we?”
“Understanding the prophecy.” I tapped a finger. “I already knew I have to defeat Hell and seal the portals between Hell and Earth. I still need to understand what the elements being on my side mean. And how did all of this start an actual war? Or did it?”
“I need more time to decipher the text,” Eric said. “This isn’t a language I’m fluent in, but based on the words of the prophecy, I believe you were reincarnated.”
Having had a previous conversation with Trashae and Wilcox on the subject, Eric’s words didn’t send a wave of shock through me… not completely. More like stunned contemplation. Reincarnation wasn’t something I’d previously given thought to. Having lived before… in a different time, different body. The idea was a bit unsettling, and not one I was certain I was all right with. “So I’m Aerowen?”
“No, Kiara, I believe you are her daughter, Eithne.”
Eithne… a cambion.
A text message had interrupted my holy crap, I’m an actual cambion? Followed by, holy crap, I’m like over two thousand years old? To holy crap… just, crap meltdown. Because there had been a meltdown. Major. Shock had finally kicked aside my introspective thoughts and commanded full focus. Until the text message.
Much like that morning with my aunt’s dinner invitation, my cell phone continued demanding my attention, distracting my panicked thoughts. Wilcox. The first I’d heard from him since I’d locked him out on the rooftop of Tristan’s building before fleeing days before. No apologies were thrown in with Wilcox’s request to meet up at Tristan’s as soon as possible, and I was not looking forward to the cool indifference he’d adopted that night after learning about my newfound capabilities. The fact that the jerk had a full four days to call or stop by with an apology for being a first-class jerk, but hadn’t, left me on the side of resentful.
That thought remained nagging even following the dinner with my aunt and her friend. I began the trek toward one vampire’s lair. Tonight, however, was not about Wilcox. It was strictly business. If only my freakin’ brain would get the memo. Nerves probably needed a copy as well because as I stood outside Tristan’s front door, my hand remained lifted and posed, short of knocking. Not moving. Because it didn’t matter that my relationship with Wilcox had barely started… he was one of the few people who knew the whole me—my entire crazy messed-up life. And it hurt that he’d shut me out. I’d already lost Hadley…
Chin up. My mother loved me for once. Wilcox… well, he didn’t exactly hate me, but he’d certainly come to the conclusion that I should be placed at the top of his crazy people to avoid list. If he had lists, that was. What sane person didn’t own a journal to organize their entire life? Him, probably. The jerk.
Suck it up, demon child. My hand fell against wood in a hard rap. The door opened, and the most beautiful woman in the world stood at the entrance. Skin flawless. Hair a golden shade of blond. Eyes a clear, sky blue outlined by a hint of violet. And me? I was downright dowdy standing next to her.
“Sorry, wrong…” Taking a step back, I stared at the apartment number. Not the wrong door. What the…
“Kiara?” Tristan’s voice called out. “Come in.”
The beauty stepped back, and I brushed past with curiosity on high alert. Tristen’s apartment had an open floor plan with a combined living and kitchen area decked out in overstuffed leather couches and stainless steel. Usually, it felt spacious enough, but tonight the entire room seemed to be flooded with people. Wilcox and Andrew had taken seats on the far couch. Trashae was lounging in a chair, and Tristan was leaning against a bar. Arms crossed. Face drawn. The vamp had been as moody as hell of late, and the busybody who lived inside my brain decided drawing out whatever the cause of his perpetual scowl was would be added to my list of to-dos.
“What’s going on?” I asked, stepping into the room. “Please don’t tell me another suicide.”
“The knife.” Andrew nodded in the direction of the dining table. “It’s real, and we have it.”
Feet inched forward, and I stared at the sleek object lying on a smooth surface. The hilt was in gold and appeared to glitter. The unmarred blade shone in silvery-white. A dagger, really, with its double-sided edge.
“Don’t touch it,” Tristan warned.
It was only then I realized my arm was outstretched… reaching. I snatched back my hand.
“It calls to you,” Tristan said. “The demon blood inside of you. The power it holds is something you crave. I crave.”
“How can you be sure the dagger is what you think it is?”
Tristan stood away from the bar and stepped toward the table. Before I realized his intent, he laid a palm over the blade. It sizzled, and the vampire gave a sharp hiss through his lips before jerking back his arm. The palm of his hand was red and already blistered.
“Proof enough?” His eyebrows rose. “Neither you nor I can touch this without consequences.”
“How am I to use this weapon on the demon, then? Gloves?”
“That will not work.” The blond woman spoke with a slight accent. She inched forward and picked up the knife. “Gloves will not protect you. If you were to hold it long enough, it would burn you. Literally. Your human flesh would go up in flames.”
That did not sound ap
pealing. Where was the warning label? One needed to be superglued to the sparkling gold that my eyes were having trouble tearing themselves away from.
“Kiara,” Tristan said. “This is Emma. She owns the dagger.”
“How did you get it?” I asked, deciding the courteous hellos and introductions could be saved for later—like after the evil bodies piled up later. “Tristan said you stole it?”
“I did.” She nodded. “From a human spirit who escaped Hell with it in the late sixteen hundreds.”
“How many humans have escaped Hell?”
“Him. Only him.” Emma eyed me. “I wouldn’t set my focus on an escaped ghost. He’s of no concern to you. We must search for this demon who’s killing innocent women.”
“Have you ever sent anyone to this dimension before?” I focused on the weapon she held protectively in pale hands. “Or wherever it is that demons go?”
“I have had this knife for one hundred and eighty-eight years, and never had a use for it. Until now.”
My gaze shot up at the one hundred part because… forget whatever skin care products Trashae used, there wasn’t a wrinkle on Emma’s perfect face. I needed some of whatever this woman used, and the Reality Warper, sprawled on Tristan’s chair, would no doubt be in line right behind me at checkout to purchase a bottle for herself.
Focus. I wasn’t certain if the word had been in my thoughts, or if Tristan had spoken. With his narrowed eyes and unblinking stare, I felt very much back on his practice mat on that very first night while he drilled into me the importance of paying attention. Except his glare didn’t seem to be directed at me right then so much as it was toward the century-plus-year-old woman standing in front of me. Not a drop of demon blood appeared to run through Emma’s veins because the knife was not leaving a mark on her skin. I had to wonder if the weapon could honestly perform the task it was rumored to do. So many unknowns… but Tristan’s reaction to a light touch against the blade offered proof. I took a seat at the table. The vamp was right, the dagger from Hell sang to me, and there was not enough space to put between me and the blade.
Destined to Reap (Reaping Fate Book 3) Page 27
