Deceit can be Deadly (Law of the Lycans Book 8)

by Nicky Charles

  Seconds later she saw him passing by the window wearing his black leather jacket. He was heading towards the backyard. Moments later, the roar of his motorcycle filled the air, the sound growing louder as he swung by the house and then fading in the distance as he disappeared from sight.

  She swallowed hard, feeling as if her life had just shattered into pieces.

  Her mate had left her.

  Chapter 33

  “Camille, did you mean what you said the other day?” Gwyn faced the Magissa in the Coven chambers. There was no sign of the drama that had occurred days prior. There were no water stains on the wall or scorch marks on the floor. The blood had been wiped up, the furniture put back in place. It was as if the carnage had never occurred, the room returned to its pristine, calm, whiteness. The only noticeable difference was that one chair was missing. A replacement for Cyrus would have to be voted in.

  “I said many things the other day. Please be more specific.” Camille sat in her chair as haughty as usual. There was no sign of the accord they’d achieved while working to defeat Cyrus.

  “You said we’d made foolish decisions in our youth and what we gained wasn’t worth what was lost.” Camille didn’t respond right away, so she continued. “Did you mean that or were you trying to distract Cyrus?”

  “There was some truth in my words. I have moments of regret over…several things.” There was a look in Camille’s eye, a tentative softness that made Gwyn wonder if the reference was to their long-dead friendship. She considered asking but gave her head a mental shake. That was a topic for another time.

  “Would you risk reversing the spell?”

  “I am the Magissa.” Her expression firmed, all hints of softness disappearing. “Our people need me and that takes precedent over any personal whim. If I reversed the spell who would take my place?”

  “I’m sure someone would rise to the occasion.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” The woman arched one brow.

  “Simply pointing out that no one is indispensable.”

  “I am fully cognisant of that fact.” Camille inclined her head. “And I am beginning to look for someone to train for the position.” She paused and gave Gwyn a pointed stare. “You are not on the short list. Your temperament is decidedly unsuited for the job.”

  “I’m heartbroken.”

  “No. You’re not.” She stood and descended the dais. “Was there a purpose to this conversation?”

  “I…” Gwyneth took a deep breath. “I am considering reversing the blood moon spell.”

  Camille paused, one foot suspended between the steps. “That is a bold move.”

  “I’m well aware of the fact.”

  “Dangerous, too.”

  “I know.”

  Camille began to move again. “Is it the Lycan?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Dante is a large part of this. However, even before he appeared, I was beginning to feel…weary. Always starting up a new life, knowing everyone I ever knew was aging, eventually dying while I continued on alone.”

  “That is one of the prices we pay.” A line momentarily appeared between Camille’s brows before smoothing. “Does this Lycan care for you?”

  “I think so.”

  “Think? This is a huge step to take on something that is not a certainty. What if he doesn’t return your feelings? Or changes his mind like the last one you cared for?”

  “Then I will be alone. As I am now.” She stared unseeingly across the room, hands tightly clasped. “But at least the possibility of trying again would exist. As it stands now, I feel stirrings in my chest but they never develop into anything.”

  Camille walked over to one of the statues that decorated the room and trailed the tip of one finger over the marble figure. A ghost of a smile curving her mouth. “I recall what it was like. The warmth, the pounding of the heart, the buoyant feeling that filled my entire being. But,” she turned, the smile disappearing. “I also recall the pain of disappointment, the dead feeling that consumed me, dragging me into a dark lifeless place.”

  “Life is a risk. Without taking risks you’re not really living, in which case what is the point?” She paraphrased Dante’s words.

  “You always were stubbornly headstrong and I can see you are determined to try this.” Camille clasped her hands behind her back. “Do you wish to do it here? If so, I will stay and try to support you as is my duty.”

  Her duty. It always came down to that, didn’t it? Gwyn looked at Camille’s cool expression, the sterile white room and the lifeless figures in the artwork. “No. I’ll do it in my home. I started this journey on my own. I’ll end it that way, too.”

  “Very well. You are dismissed. Cassiah is taking Bianca’s place. Please send her in when you leave.” Camille began to walk back to her chair. “If I sense an energy fluctuation I’ll know it is you.”

  “Yes, Magissa. Thank you. I’ll send in Cassiah.” And just like that she’d been dismissed. The area beneath her scar gave an odd quiver but she quelled it with a deep breath. This might be the last time she stood in the Universal Coven. Much of her life had been devoted to the institution but now…now it was time to move on. She turned and walked toward the door. It wasn’t until her hand touched the handle that Camille spoke again.

  “We’ve often been opponents but once we were friends. I…I wish you good luck, Gwyneth.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you survive the spell reversal, I’ll expect you to maintain your seat on the council until a suitable replacement can be found, regardless of how long it takes.”

  Gwyn kept her back turned but nodded her head, a lop-sided smile appearing on her face. “Yes, Magissa.”

  “Fuck!” Reno threw his phone on the bed.

  “What’s wrong?” Brandi appeared in the door of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, her hair a cascade of curls spilling around her shoulders.

  At any other time, Reno would have admired her beauty, even removed the towel and carried her to bed. But not now.

  “Sam just called. She think’s Damien’s really gone rogue this time.”

  “What?”

  Reno began to search for his shoes. “She said he was pacing the house like a caged animal, not making eye contact. He snapped at her, then apologized and said he needed to leave before he did or said something he shouldn’t.”

  “That doesn’t sound like him. Even after Beth was killed he wasn’t like that.”

  Reno shook his head. “He was missing for quite a while. We don’t know what he was like at the worst of it.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Go looking for him. Sam wanted to go but I talked her out of it, said she should be at the house in case he returned.”

  “I’ll get dressed and go stay with her.” She hurried out of the room..

  “Good idea.” Reno grabbed his jacket and checked if he had his keys, then grabbed his phone from the bed.

  “Don’t wait for me. I’ll get a cab.”

  He nodded. “I’ll try to pick up his trail and see if I can track him down. Sam’s sending out the rest of the pack as well.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. He gave her a quick kiss and then hurried out of the room and took the stairs down to the lobby, not having the patience to wait for the elevator plus he needed to burn off some of the adrenaline that surged through him. This had something to do with Dante, he was sure of it. Damien hated the man. Knowing they were related must have made something inside snap; it was the only explanation he could think of.

  In his hotel room, Dante stared at his computer. An image of Gwyneth filled the screen, a candid surveillance shot he had taken at some point. Her chin was up, her gaze direct. A few tendrils of her hair hung loosely near her cheeks. It captured her perfectly. Strong. Determined. A softer side if you looked carefully. She’d been showing that side when he’d walked out on her today, actually moving towards him to offer comfort rather than backing away or erecting a defensive wall.r />
  Shock had muddled his usually clear thinking. She wasn’t to blame for her grandmother’s actions any more than he was to blame for Tomas’ actions. He was dragging his hand through his hair thinking he’d need to go begging forgiveness yet again when there was a knock on his door.

  He shut the computer and walked quietly to the door, checking the peep hole first before opening the door to admit Roxi. She was wearing street clothes rather than housekeeping garb.

  “Hey Dante.” She gave the room a quick sweep of her eyes. “Not as clean as if I’d been on duty.”

  He shut the door behind her. “You have some information for me?”

  “I do. My cousin said the generational curse isn’t that hard to break.”

  “Really?” He felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. Damien might not be condemned to a life of unhappiness after all. “How is it done?”

  “Pay up first.” She held out her hand, her chin tilted up.

  “Half now, half later if it works.”

  She considered the offer and then nodded. Once the money was exchanged and counted she pulled a slip of paper from her pocket and tucked the money in its place. “My cousin said breaking the curse is easy-peasy. The witch just says this.” She glanced at the paper, shrugged and handed it over.

  Dante read the words. “I remove the curse once. I remove the curse twice. Thrice I remove it.” He frowned. “This can’t be it.”

  “My cousin copied it right from her mother’s grimoire.” Roxi rocked on her heels. “The only trick is that you need the witch who placed the curse to remove it.”

  “What? Damn. That’s impossible!”

  “A relative of the witch would work, as well, but the curse might then need to be individually removed from each member of the family,” she added.

  He stared at the paper again, lips pressed tightly together. Gwyneth would have to undo the curse and after he’d stormed out on her today he wasn’t sure she’d be up to doing him a favour.

  Roxi cleared her throat. “So, once you get the curse removed, you’ll call me, right? To pay up?”

  “Of course. You know I always pay my debts.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “You’ve got a good rep that way. So, who did you piss off? Gwyneth? Word on the street is that you’re hanging with her.”

  “None of your business.”

  “Got it.” Roxi gave him a wink and went on her way, humming a popular song.

  Gwyn walked around her apartment, trailing her hand over the furniture, stopping to examine a few of the pictures that decorated the walls or to pick up a trinket that sat on a shelf. None of it had much meaning; she’d learned long ago not to become attached to people or things. It was too hard to pack everything up and move. Leave the excess baggage behind and start anew, that was her motto.

  Sherman woke and gave her a quizzical look before wandering over to rub against her leg. She picked him up and stroked his chin.

  “Hello, Sherman. Did you have a good nap?”

  Poor guy. Not many people wanted an older cat. If this didn’t work, he’d be homeless again. He’d been a bundle of skin and bones when she’d found him, someone’s pet that had been left to fend for himself. Now his fur was thick and clean, his eyes bright.

  “You know, you never did live up to your end of our bargain. I’ve not seen you catch even one rodent.” She looked him in the eye.

  He yawned in response and she gave a small smile.

  “I guess being presented with a dead mouse would have been rather disgusting anyway.”

  The cat blinked at her as if it couldn’t believe she’d only realized the fact, then, with a contented sigh, it relaxed against her, nestling under her chin.

  She pursed her lips refusing to be the cause of the animal being homeless again. “Would you like to live with Matt? I know you were fond of Dante but I have a feeling he moves around a lot.”

  Setting the cat down, she texted Matt asking if he’d be willing to give Sherman a home if the need arose. Matt replied back in the affirmative while also inquiring why. An explanation would be too complicated so she ignored his question and sent a simple thank you back.

  Relieved that Sherman would be cared for, she gave him a dish of food and final pet before leaving the apartment and making her way downstairs.

  She passed through the club, not taking time to look at the bar she and Dante had nearly had sex on.

  ‘I don’t fuck.’

  At the time, she’d thought he’d been crazy but somewhere over the past day she’d had an epiphany of sorts, his words about love never forgetting taking on a new meaning. All the lovers she’d had in the past were nothing but vague memories. She’d likely meant nothing to them and they’d meant nothing to her.

  “Except you, Sven.” She reassured the tat. “I’ve always remembered you.”

  And yet had she ever let him know he’d had enough impact on her life he’d be remembered? Or had he spent their time together thinking he’d fade from her memory once he was gone?

  How sad to die and not be remembered or missed.

  The stairs to the basement creaked as she descended, the keypad making soft beeps as she keyed in the code, the door swinging open with the barest whisper. She turned on the light, the bare bulb casting stark shadows over the small space and then took out the two grimoires, placing them carefully on the table. One was her family grimoire, the other the grimoire Dante had found. Her fingers traced the carved leather covers. Magic was so familiar to her, a part of her life like eating and breathing. She might not use it every day but it was there, like an old friend.

  If she reversed the blood spell and survived, would she keep her magic? And if she did, would it be as powerful or would it revert to the level it had been at when her journey had started? So many unknowns. Maybe she was a fool to even consider this.

  A shiver passed over her and she turned from the books, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, the chill of the room seeping into her very bones. The silence of the building seemed unusually oppressive. The club wasn’t open yet so there was no music or chatter coming from above. Not even the hum of the furnace or Sherman’s purr interrupted the nothingness that surrounded her.

  She was alone, completely alone. The knowledge was a millstone around her neck. Cold, heavy, pulling her down into a bleak existence that stretched ahead with nothing to offer but more of the same.

  Slowly turning, she surveyed the room she’d always considered her secret haven. Old dusty bottles lined the shelves around her. Bottles she’d spent her life collecting, their contents rare and much sought after. As things stood now, they were her legacy to the world. Other people had family who lived on after they were gone. She had bottles of wine.

  If she continued as she was, her collection would grow but her life would remain empty. If she risked everything, there was a chance she’d gain so much more.

  The cognac she’d shared with Dante caught her eye and after a moment’s consideration, she took out a piece of paper and quickly penned him a note, then propped it against the bottle where it could be seen. He’d appreciate her collection if things didn’t work out.

  That task completed, she turned to the table, determined to proceed with her plan. She opened both books to the same page, the page containing the blood-moon spell she’d used all those years ago, and compared the text. Each word was identical up to the point where the page in her book was torn. Logically the spells would end the same. The final text seemed to match her memory but after centuries how accurate was that?

  She hesitated then moved to the sideboard, opened a drawer and took out a box. After removing the lid, she drew back a layer of cloth and picked up the old ceremonial knife that was within.

  It felt odd in her hand; cold and hard.

  Deadly.

  She took a steadying breath and returned to the table, pushing aside thoughts that these could be her last moments. The knife clasped in her hand, she began to read the words out loud.

 
“If the heart dares love once more,

  The debt is paid by time restored.

  The crescent moon reversed with the athame blade,

  A heart is formed but life will fade.”

  She pressed the point of the blade to her chest, a tear slowly sliding down her cheek as the heat of pain mixed with the warmth of blood.

  Chapter 34

  Dante walked down the street, his pace quick, his stride determined. A traffic jam had caused him to abandon his taxi a few blocks back, it having had all the appearances of lasting for a considerable length of time. He wanted to speak to Gwyneth before the club opened, apologize for his reaction earlier and then beg her help to get the curse removed from his family before it affected Damien’s s relationship with Sam. That was provided Damien would listen to him.

  His son seemed to have a stubborn streak, just like his mother. Sam might be more open to hearing him out. A smile curled the corner of his mouth as he thought of that little spitfire. He’d taken an instant liking to her. Damien had chosen well.

  We need to find the witch. His inner wolf nudged him to walk faster.

  “We have time. Running down the street would attract unwanted attention. We don’t want someone to think we’re a purse snatcher, do we?”

  His wolf whined anxiously. We need to act soon. I can sense the evil building.

  He frowned. Over the years he’d come to value the animal’s intuition. He increased his pace. The club was only a block away.

  When he reached the club, he tried the door but it was locked. A glance over his shoulder revealed that the few people within line of sight were intent upon their own business. He pulled out his lock pick and worked the mechanism with practised ease, then slipped inside.

  The building seemed unusually quiet, the air cooler than normal.

  “Gwyneth!” He called her name and it echoed through the building unanswered.

  A soft sound drew his attention and he turned to see Sherman padding down the stairs, no doubt looking for a treat.