by T. M. Cromer
Selene laughed. “I suspect you’re correct, Mr. Thorne.”
“Call me Alastair. I insist.” His sapphire eyes locked on her for a moment, then he said, “You’re family now, Selene.”
Unexpectedly, she became emotional, wanting to weep at his kind words. She’d never truly belonged anywhere after her mother died. Forming attachments had been pointless. Victor would’ve found and used anyone she cared about against her.
With an understanding expression, Alastair patted her arm. “No need to thank me, my dear. But be careful. Even honorary Thornes tend to attract unsavory attention.”
“More unsavory than Preston?” She shot the man in question a quick side glance, not bothering to hide her smirk.
“Probably not.” Alastair’s quip earned him a light punch from his brother. “Okay, fine. Maybe a slight bit more unsavory than Pres, but not much.” He surprised her when he wrapped his arm around his younger brother’s neck and gave him a noogie.
“I swear to the Goddess, I will end you if you ever do that again, Al,” Preston grumbled as he broke the hold and smoothed back his hair. “You’re lucky I don’t set your Armani suit on fire—with you in it.”
Alastair laughed and hugged him. “I truly missed you, little brother. Let’s go save the world.”
An hour and countless ideas later, none of them were any closer to discovering what might be the Evil’s original source or how to divest the Otherworld of the problem. Preston found himself growing tired of the discussion as the urgency to act gripped him.
“This is insane. We’re in the dark and likely to stay that way. After all this time, I’d be surprised if anyone was left on the other plane.” He stood to pace, his irritation growing with every step he took across the Safavid silk Persian carpet under his feet. Even the beauty of the antique he trod upon couldn’t drag him from his pique. It was a rare day when pieces like that didn’t distract him.
He’d often wondered who Autumn had put in charge of his business after he died. Had she sold it? The small antiques shop had been his pride and joy, and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to scry to find out its fate.
“Let’s go over what we know,” Selene suggested. “The Evil arrived in the Otherworld roughly around or shortly after Isolde and Nathanial crossed over. Isolde gave instructions to smash the jewel she’d been entombed with. Damian carried out the order.” Everyone nodded. “Is it possible, when the necklace was smashed, it released the Evil instead of destroying it? Perhaps she didn’t know or had been tricked into believing the only way to stop it was to crush the stone, but in fact, the opposite was true.”
“Terrifying thought,” Damian muttered. “I’d like to think I’d have felt something if or when it escaped. And if it was in the stone and I released it, why is it infecting the Otherworld and not this plane?”
“Great question,” Selene said with an elegant shrug.
Preston joined her on the settee and stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. Her hair brushed against his arm, and he wanted to curl the silky mass around his hand and draw her into his lap. But he couldn’t tuck her against him with everyone around. She’d hate any display of affection.
He smothered a sigh and brought his mind back to the conversation. “Was anyone else in the vicinity when you opened the tomb?”
“Me.” Everyone looked at Evie after she spoke and waited for her to elaborate. “I was with Damian then and also a short while later when he smashed the piece. Within a day, I passed on to join Nathanial.” She wore a troubled expression. “What if it didn’t attach itself to Isolde or Nathanial at all but instead latched onto me?”
Alastair narrowed his eyes, and Preston could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “It would make sense,” his brother said with a nod. “Whatever this darkness is, it wouldn’t have known Isis was about to call you to the other side. Perhaps for reasons unknown to us, it couldn’t attach itself to Damian, and as the next most powerful being, it wanted your magic.”
Damian perked up. “That had to be it. Evie, you’re a genius.” He gave her a kiss on her temple. “Now, we need to find a way to reverse engineer the problem and return it to earth for me to consume.”
Preston noted the Aether looked ill at ease. “Do you fear turning into your mother?” he asked quietly.
“How can I not?” There was a raw, vulnerable quality to Damian’s reply. “How much worse will it be if I give into the madness? How many more people need to die to feed the monster’s hunger?”
In all the time Preston had known Damian, he’d never seen him display any uncertainty. For a human to live over two hundred years, they would’ve seen and survived practically everything. With their experience came a matter-of-factness and a lack of alarm for everyday happenings. Yet Damian’s fear was present and well-founded. He’d been through this once before with his mother. And the truly disconcerting question was: who could stop him? The simple answer—no one.
“What if we bring down all magic?” Spring’s suggestion caused a chorus of gasps. While she waited for everyone to wrap their brain around the idea, she calmly sipped her tea.
Damian sat down opposite her and, bending forward to rest his elbows on his knees, gave her his undivided attention. “How would it help?”
“We know the Evil craves magical powers. What if it has none to steal? Will it starve and weaken? Possibly die out?”
A smile kicked up the corners of Knox’s mouth. “Brilliant as usual, sweetheart.”
“Thank you,” she said primly, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she reached for a scone and smothered it with cream. “I do my best.”
“You may be onto something, child.” Alastair nodded his approval. “We’ll have to confer with Isis and have everyone hit their family archives to search for any available information on this cursed darkness, but I believe we now have a starting point.”
“I can take the Weird Season Sisters with me,” Nash volunteered with a smirk toward Preston’s daughters. “We can sort through what’s in the vault at Thorne Industries.”
Autumn snapped her fingers and flames sparked from the tips. “I’ve got your Weird Season Sister right here, you asshat.”
Nash blew her a kiss and grinned when she did.
In the time Preston had been gone, the cousins—once unknown to each other—had become close. It saddened him he’d missed the bonding, but he was thrilled they’d all come together. Family was important. Never more so than right now.
Ryker refilled his brandy with a swirl of his finger and nodded. “I can meet with the Witches’ Council. Perhaps their librarians might have knowledge on how to create a magical blackout or can reference something in their files.”
“I’ll pair up with Mack.” GiGi sent a look of inquiry toward Mackenzie. When the other woman nodded, she said, “We can get a list of covens and visit each to see what they might know or what stories have been passed down to them.”
“My sister and aunt can work with Evie to see what secrets are left here at the estate. For years, the Drakes were tasked with being the Keepers of the Gate, and logic tells me there must be something.” Sebastian rose and kissed his wife. “But you and GiGi aren’t going off on your own. I’ll accompany you.”
Mack laughed. “Darling Baz, you’ll only be a distraction. With you around, none of our female friends will be able to form a coherent sentence.”
Autumn snorted when his skin reddened. “I can see it now. Women will throw whatever’s handy on the floor. Each of them scrambling in an effort to see what he’s wearing underneath that sexy-ass kilt.” When he glared, she giggled. “I think you’re confined to baby duty, studly.”
“Hey! That’s your nickname for me, Tums,” Knox growled out with mock indignation.
“That’s her nickname for every hot male.” Summer gracefully rose to her feet and crossed to the large floor-to-ceiling windows. She tilted her head to the side, then drew the curtains back and opened a window. “Hol, I need you to swear.”<
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“Excuse me?” Holly, like her siblings and father, was cursed. If she became angry enough to swear, she would be overloaded with power and sneeze. The pulse called to the avian population and brought them flocking to her. Only a magical intervention could prevent a real-life reenactment of Hitchcock’s movie, The Birds.
“I need you to swear, but not emphatically. There are ravens close by, and I want to talk to them.”
“You can’t simply call one with your magic?” Holly asked dryly.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Summer and Alastair locked gazes as they said the words in stereo.
They’d never resembled each other more, and Preston had to laugh. “You’re a chip off the old block, Summer, my dear.”
Holly threw her hands up and moved to stand next to her twin. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Hell.” A sneeze followed, and no one tried to stem the magical blast that followed. Within a minute, three ravens perched on the outside ledge, cawing for all they were worth.
“Hello, my feathered friends.” Summer’s greeting soothed them, and their gleaming blue-black heads bobbed as they took turns speaking in a language few witches could understand. She happened to be gifted with the ability to talk to animals, which made her an outstanding veterinarian. When a patient could say exactly where they hurt, it was easier to treat them.
Selene watched the whole proceeding with wide-eyed wonder.
Unable to resist, Preston stroked his fingers along the exposed line of her graceful neck. “Fascinating, isn’t it?”
She leaned into him and smiled—effectively shocking him. “I knew your family was powerful, but I had no idea you all held such a variety of talents. Empaths, zoo linguists, Aethers. It’s incredible, really.”
“We also have a psychic.” Preston nodded at Mackenzie. Why he felt the need to confess was a mystery. “No one outside our family and the Drakes know.”
“For obvious reasons,” Selene murmured.
Psychic witches tended toward madness, as most were unable to maintain magic and visions without the two merging and creating untold problems. Both abilities took a toll on the one cursed to experience them both together. They were feared by the witch community because they were unpredictable, and the Thornes didn’t need one more thing to incite terror in lesser witches. His family was reviled enough by the more petty ones.
Selene placed her hand on his thigh and shifted closer. Keeping her voice low, for his ears only, she said, “Have you thought about what might happen if magic is removed? How long would it have to be down, and how vulnerable would it make you?”
He met her worried eyes. “All factors will need to be weighed before we jump in. Most of our enemies are gone, but I’m sure there are still a few stragglers.”
“Serqet has never gone away.” She squeezed his knee. “I fear she’s waiting for her moment to strike.”
The Goddess Serqet, sister to Isis, had held a grudge against Spring and Knox since before witches came into being. It was known that Knox, in a previous incarnation, had been gifted with god-like abilities and was the first true warlock in existence. Isis, in an effort to protect him and his lover against Serqet’s jealous rage, had infused his very soul with unimaginable power. The spiteful Goddess had maintained a grudge against anyone descended from Isis’s line ever since. The Thornes had been a particular favorite to target.
“Thank you for the reminder. I hadn’t given her much thought in recent years.”
“Your family should be protected, Preston. They are a treasure. So perfect and beautiful in their love for one another.” Selene dropped her eyes and swallowed.
It didn’t take a brain surgeon to understand. Her life had been isolated and vastly different from his own. There had been no loving parents to see her to adulthood or protect her from the horrors of twisted fuckers like Victor.
Preston wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. After placing a tender kiss on her temple, he said, “You’re one of us now, love. Just as Alastair said. We’ll do whatever is necessary to protect you from harm and to make you secure in that knowledge.”
Her hand tightened on his thigh, but she remained quiet as she turned her attention back to Summer and the ravens.
“In case you’re in any doubt, I love you,” he whispered into the shell of her delicate ear. “We value our mates and protect them at all costs. A Thorne only truly loves once.”
“What about your wife?” Selene returned with an arch look.
Preston smiled at the undeniable jealousy in her tone. “My widow, and she was only marking time with me, waiting until she could be with Alastair again. I did love her as one would love a dear friend.” He rubbed a lock of Selene’s silky hair between his fingers, admiring the way the light reflected off the blue-black strands. “Nothing like what I feel for you. Nothing at all.”
The tension left her body, but she kept her haughty expression firmly in place. “Let’s shelve this discussion until a more appropriate time, shall we?”
He grinned at her formal tone and couldn’t resist a bit of teasing. “The world is ending, Selene. Who’s to say what’s appropriate or not? I say we find a room and make love until we can no longer stand.”
“All right.”
He sat up straighter. “What?”
“I’m calling your bluff. Let’s go—what is it you Americans say?—boink? Bang one out?”
His shout of laughter turned heads their way. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed gawkers. “Don’t mind us. We’re just talking about boinking.” He grunted when Selene’s solid elbow nailed him underneath his rib cage. “You started it,” he muttered.
“No, I don’t believe I did, agápi mou. But I certainly know how to finish it.”
Under the pretense of scratching his jaw, Preston smothered another laugh behind his hand. “You do realize I know the Greek language, don’t you, my love? And however we finish, I’m all for banging one out.”
“Be serious,” she admonished.
“Oh, I most certainly am.”
Chapter 8
The heat of embarrassment burned Selene’s cheeks as Preston’s family not-so-subtly watched them. They were all comfortable with the playfulness of a large close-knit group, but she wasn’t. Not that she couldn’t get used to it if exposed to such a wonderful thing, but she felt gauche at the present.
Although she and Preston had been teasing one another, there was an element of seriousness in their flirty game. And oh yes, she’d love to boink, bang, make love, or do any one of the thousands of euphemisms for sex with him. He’d been driving her to distraction from the moment he sat down next to her. Her senses became heightened when she’d come back to life, and she needed to discover if this was normal or if it was simply the spellbinding man next to her. This need to touch him, to have him touch her, was overwhelming in its intensity. Even now, she couldn’t seem to remove her hand from his thigh. If she shifted her fingers a few inches, she’d be able to feel the divot between those defined muscles.
His scent was clean, sharp, and addictive. His breath was a mix of peppermint and coffee. It reminded her of the holiday lattes she was fond of and had missed so dreadfully. Of course, the thought of delicious flavored coffee brought her around to taste, and Selene wanted nothing more than to kiss him. To explore the inside of his mouth with her tongue and sample all he had to offer. She’d nibble on his lips and lave the hardened nipples of his chest. She’d trail her mouth down to—
“Excuse me?” She’d missed what was being said, and for the second time in as many minutes, her cheeks flamed.
Alastair sent her a knowing look, and Selene felt exposed. How did one hide their feelings around an empath?
“Summer said the animals in the area are restless,” he said without giving away a hint of what he had to be picking up from Selene. “They all sense the oncoming threat.”
“I see.” She forced herself to inhale a calming breath and not clear her throat like a guilty child. “I suppose I�
��m not surprised. The balance must be off here as it is in the Otherworld. Especially if the gods and goddesses are ill at ease by this threat.”
Spring nodded. “It’s a good observation. The earth will be similarly affected. More earthquakes. Stranger weather patterns. Plants losing some of their healing properties as they become stressed by the conditions.” Sadness touched her eyes and disappeared as quickly as it came. “Non-magical humans will feel off and not understand why. Their tempers will be close to the surface.”
“Balance is the key,” Winnie said. She looked at Damian. “It’s why I don’t think you should consume the Evil when it comes down to it. You’re too valuable as that balance.”
“Our future Oracle has predicted it.” The skin around his eyes grew taut, and his mouth tightened. “Although she hasn’t told me what happens after. For reasons unknown to me, I can’t see the immediate future anymore. It’s a concerning development.”
Tension radiated from the arm wrapped across Selene’s shoulder. Whatever Damian’s issue, it couldn’t be good. Especially if it caused Preston to stiffen beside her. “What does it mean?” she asked with a side glance at him.
Damian gave her a tired smile. “I’ve always been able to see upcoming events to a small degree. Similar to my daughter, but she has better clarity and an ability to see long-term. I get near-future visions, and on occasion, I catch long-term glimpses.” His expression grew thoughtful. “However, I can’t see anything at all. Not today. Not tomorrow. Nothing. I wonder if it’s by design.”
Quentin sat rubbing his wife’s shoulders, but at the Aether’s statement, he paused and looked at Damian. “How so?”
“The Goddess gives or takes away certain perks of my job. Perhaps if she sees I’m hesitant to do what she wants based on future events, she’ll make sure I can’t see them.” Damian shrugged and sighed. “It’s a mystery. However, earlier in the garden, Sabrina mentioned the seven original elementals. Between us, there are six. I need only to find the seventh for an idea I want to try.”
