by T. M. Cromer
Preston gave an infinitesimal nod of his chin, but he had no doubt Damian could clearly see what was in his head: acknowledgment of their plan.
The Aether gave his shoulder a light squeeze before releasing him and stepping forward as if his intent was to take Preston’s place in reprimanding Castor.
“Very amusing, fellas, but your anger is enough to turn me off my breakfast,” Alastair said drolly. “Do you intend to rein it in, or is it to be a shoot-out at the O.K. Corral at high noon?”
The blue sparks jumping along Castor’s fingers disappeared, and Quentin gave a grunt as he released him.
“Try not to be such a fucktwat all the time,” Quentin snapped.
“Try to remove the stick from your ass,” Castor countered. “I thought you’d be a chip off the old block. Apparently, you’re as humorless as your mother.”
Rage flared on Quentin’s countenance, and his lips pulled back in a snarl.
Alexander had thrown the wrong comment into the mix.
Preston punched Castor in the face. Not hard enough to take him down, but definitely hard enough to hurt. “Mamas are off-limits, you prick. Without exception.”
Quentin laughed for the first time in the two days since he’d learned his father was alive. “I love the fuck out of you, Mr. Thorne.”
“Call me Preston, my boy. We’re family.” He patted Quentin on the back and strolled away, whistling an off-key tune.
Chapter 18
“Preston Thorne.” Georgie Sipanil held out her gnarled hands in welcome. As Selene watched them, they embraced, and Preston took great care when enfolding the pint-sized woman in his hug. Although her joints were twisted with age, they were the only thing giving away the elderly witch’s age. To look at her, one would believe she was in her late fifties. She was attractive and had an ageless quality about her.
“As I live and breathe, Georgie girl, you’ve become even more beautiful since my passing.”
“Oh, go on with you, you scamp!”
Selene didn’t fail to notice the pleasure lighting Georgie’s eyes or the pink splash of color darkening the woman’s skin. Preston’s charm was as fabled as Quentin Buchanan’s. Seeing it in action, Selene could now understand why. This Thorne had magic in his honeyed words as well as those fabulously skilled hands of his. She felt her cheeks heat as she recalled their early morning acrobatics. Preston had stolen her heart and captured her soul. Oddly, she wasn’t bothered by it.
Georgie had a diminutive stature, and it screamed fragile. However, the woman in front of her was made of pure fire-forged steel. Many a time, they’d met at a Council function. Every single one of those occasions had reinforced Selene’s belief that Georgie was the stuff of legends and wouldn’t tolerate bad behavior from anyone. This geriatric spitfire held those around her to a higher standard, and oddly, people met that standard to avoid disappointing her.
Turning her attention on Selene, Georgie’s expression became reserved. “Ms. Barringer. I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Because I’m supposed to be dead, or because I’m working with the Thornes?” she asked coolly.
The elderly woman’s lips twitched as if she wanted to smile. “Come. I’ll order tea.”
“I can conjure whatever you’d like, ma’am,” Selene offered.
“I still have the power to do the same, young lady. I simply like to keep my staff hopping. They grow bored otherwise.”
Preston laughed and tucked Georgie’s arm through his. “Who in their right mind could ever be bored in your presence, my darling Georgie?”
“You’re as charming as your rogue father, my dear. And his father before him.” Georgie allowed Preston to assist her into a large wingback chair. Her diminutive size made her appear like a child sitting in an oversized grown-up’s seat. He tucked a blanket across her lap and squatted in front of her, turning his face into her palm as she cupped his cheek.
These two had a deep affection for one another, and Selene wondered if perhaps Georgie viewed Preston as the grandson she never had. Or perhaps it went deeper? Georgie would’ve still been in her prime when Preston was young and carousing around.
A small kernel of jealousy popped inside Selene as she watched him kiss Georgie’s palm before standing. The other woman was still attractive at her advanced age.
Georgie tilted her head slightly but met Selene’s gaze with a steady one of her own, as if sensing where her thoughts had gone. With a slight shake of her head, a reminiscent smile formed on the councilwoman’s wide mouth as she said, “I was courted by Preston the First. Until he found his one true love and promptly forgot I existed.”
“It’s not possible to forget you exist, Georgie-girl,” Preston protested, not defending his grandfather, but refuting the fact anyone could fail to remember her.
She waved a hand as if to shoo him off. “Nonsense. We all know Thornes only love once. I’m not complaining—much. I’m giving Ms. Barringer insight into our history and why I hold you in high regard.”
“Why do you hold me in high regard?” he asked with a teasing gleam in his bright eyes.
“You’re a rascal and a charmer like he was. You might’ve been my grandson had things taken a different turn.”
“I’d have been honored.”
“Of course you would’ve. You’d be a fool not to be. Now sit. It hurts my neck, craning to look up at you both.”
Selene sat on the smartly designed leather sectional across from her. “Thank you for the insight. I know next to nothing about Preston, other than the rumors one hears in our community.”
His head jerked in her direction, and his face showed his surprise. “You can ask me anything, my love.”
“There hasn’t been time since we arrived here.”
He acknowledged her words with a snort. “True. We’ve been going hell-bent for leather since we stepped through the portal.”
“Which brings us to the reason you’re here,” Georgie concluded.
“Yes.”
They filled her in on what was happening and what they knew to date, only leaving out information harmful to their cause should the wrong person be scrying or listening at keyholes.
“Is there anything you can tell us about the Nether, Ms. Sipanil?” Selene asked.
“Call me Georgie, my dear. The friend of my friend and all that.”
“I’m glad you’re willing to set aside formalities in this situation.”
“Make no mistake; I’m doing it for Preston. I trust his judgment. Please don’t disappoint me and turn out like that horrid brother of yours.”
“That will never happen,” Preston assured her, clasping Selene’s hand in his larger one. “Ms. Barringer has a sterling character.”
“Does she?” Councilwoman Sipanil’s voice contained a hard edge, and Selene knew she’d hate what was coming. “Tell me, Preston. Has she told you about her part in spying for Victor Salinger while under the guise of our liaison for the Greek Witches’ Council?”
Selene’s heart picked up its pace. The hammering was so loud, it drowned out all but the high-pitched ringing in her ears. She’d wanted to be the one to break the news to Preston, not have someone else throw it in her face in front of him. Now, he’d believe she was hiding things, when all she’d wanted was to find the proper time to tell him. Selene feared she’d faint dead away.
The pressure applied by Preston’s fingers brought her back. His grip wasn’t exactly painful, but it did speak to the tension in his frame.
“She has,” he lied smoothly. “She regrets her part in all of that and has assured me she’s no longer in league with Salinger.”
Selene wasn’t sure how she kept her jaw from dropping to the floor, but she managed.
“Hmm.”
Slowly, Selene raised her gaze to meet the shrewd eyes of the woman across from her.
Georgie knew Preston had lied.
Selene gratefully accepted a cup of tea from Georgie’s employee and smiled her thanks. After taking a si
p, she set her cup into its matching saucer and placed it on the coffee table. “Councilwoman Sipanil—”
“Georgie.”
“Uh, Georgie. I’d like to formally apologize for my past actions. It would’ve taken a stronger person than me to thwart Victor. I’m deeply ashamed, and I know nothing excuses what I’ve done.” She clasped her hands together and set them in her lap. “If it is any consolation, I skewed any details I gave him. I made sure to provide only the barest of information to keep myself alive.”
“I know.” The sternness left Georgie’s features, and she gave Selene a thoughtful look. “I also know you helped Holly Thorne-Buchanan and her husband, Quentin. You saved lives that night, Ms. Barringer.”
“Holly is a lovely woman, and my conscience wouldn’t allow me to let Victor hurt a pregnant woman.”
“And had she not been heavily pregnant?”
The woman before her was sharp and missed nothing, but Selene was tired of the games. “I’d have tried to help her regardless. But any life-saving wasn’t done by me, Ms. Georgie. The Thornes have Quentin and Athena to thank. I died that night, in case you were unaware.”
“I’ve been fully informed of the circumstances. Alastair Thorne was forthcoming about his part in stealing the Cheirotonia Scroll from our vault in his attempt to revive Aurora Thorne.”
“Then you also know I betrayed the Council when I gave Holly information as to the vault’s whereabouts and on how to open it,” Selene stated flatly. She stood and brushed her hands down the length of her fitted navy dress. “I believe we are both aware I’m not to be trusted, Councilwoman Sipanil. But I care about Preston, and Isis has entrusted her faith in me to help fight the Evil. So what you think about me doesn’t concern me in the least.” She looked down at Preston. His expression was inscrutable, and Selene’s stomach tightened. “I’ll wait outside while you make your request.”
* * *
Preston remained quiet as Selene swept from the room. The confirmation of her involvement in Victor’s activities was a punch to the chest. He couldn’t say he hadn’t had his suspicions, but he’d hoped she’d open up to him and tell him about the past at some point.
Despite what she might believe, he wasn’t angry—or at least not with her. Preston’s hatred of Victor, however, rose to the highest degree.
“I’m thrilled she’s grown a spine,” Georgie said.
Preston whipped his head around to stare at her. “Selene’s tough,” he snapped. “She was in an impossible situation, Georgie. None of us could say we wouldn’t do the same. Victor had the full force of the Désorcelers at his back.”
She inclined her head in a regal nod. “I understand you love her, and I understand you will defend her to your last breath, my boy. But be cautious. Please. I’d be heartbroken if anything happened to you a second time.”
“The welfare of the entire magical community is at stake here. I intend to be very careful.” He rubbed the spot between his brows and released a heavy sigh. “What can you tell me about the Netherworld? Anything?”
“No one goes there. It’s universally known it would cost your life if you did.” She grew thoughtful as she sipped her tea, and Preston stayed silent to allow her to piece together her thoughts. Finally, she said, “Very few know the secret to a safe crossing. There has been one or two brave souls who’ve tried it, I believe.”
“Who?”
“Alexander Castor comes to mind. I’m sure that’s how he died. It must’ve been close to thirty years or more now.”
Preston wanted to swear a blue streak. First, over the fact Castor hadn’t been forthcoming about the Nether. Second, that his fact-finding mission was a virtual bust. “Nothing else? No files or books hidden in the ever-moving vaults of the Council?”
It wasn’t common knowledge that the Witches’ Council had charmed the chambers containing their rarest or deadliest spellbooks and artifacts. Each room was on a timer and moved from one spot to another on an hourly basis. They were also cloaked to keep their location unknown to any but those in the loop. Georgie, as head of the Council, would have the information on how to access them.
“Possibly. I’ll convene an emergency meeting of the Council’s members to discuss this at length. Be prepared to present your case in one hour’s time. Together, we’ll convince the others to provide access for your family to search the vaults.”
“Thank you, Georgie.” Preston rose and crossed to her. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “We’ll be there.”
“I’m counting on it.” She patted the hand covering hers. “Now, go find your young woman and tell her she needs to treat you right or she’ll incur my wrath.”
“I’ll do that. Oh, and for the record, Castor is still alive.”
As Preston strode from the room on the heels of her gasp, he sent a silent prayer to the Goddess that the WC would work with them on this matter. If they decided to be reticent and hold back helpful information, they would all suffer for it.
Chapter 19
“Did she tell you what you needed to know?”
Preston didn’t answer Selene immediately. Instead, he studied her set features and wary eyes.
“I understand if you don’t wish to tell me the details after what you’ve learned.” Her voice held only the slightest tremble, and she forged on. “However, we are required to work together to conquer this threat. As such, I’d appreciate it if you tell me about any relevant information you discover.” This time, there was pure irritation in her tone. As if by remaining quiet, he was thoroughly pissing her off.
Biting the inside of his cheek to stem his amusement, Preston dropped his gaze to the ground. If he lost it and laughed while she was in a state of high dudgeon, he would never live to tell the tale.
“Fine. Keep your secrets, you tosser!” she snapped.
His brows went up, and the hilarity he’d been holding back erupted. “Tosser? How very British of you!”
“I am British. I was born in England.” She crossed her arms, and a muscle ticked in her jaw. “My time was split between England and Greece. I know how to properly insult a person who deserves it.”
“But I don’t deserve it, my love.” Preston shifted closer and ran his thumb along her jawline. “I don’t deserve it at all.” Dipping his head, he kissed her, leaving them both breathless when he drew back. “Am I irritated you didn’t tell me about your part in Victor’s schemes yourself? Yes. Do I believe you can’t be trusted? No.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with his index finger against her lips.
“Please. Let me finish. You wouldn’t have been in the Otherworld if you were a bad person, Selene. The sorting of a soul may take minutes, hours, or days, depending on past transgressions. You were there for just a few moments before you were allowed to enter.” She didn’t look as if she really grasped what he was telling her, so he said, “You’re a good person. Isis recognized it right away.”
“But I did do those things.”
“It’s not who you are now. Hell, I doubt it was who you were then.” He played with a strand of her inky hair. “Did any deaths result from your actions?”
“No! Or if they did, I didn’t know about them. I tried my best to make sure that never happened.”
“Exactly. Now, in answer to your first question, there were no details to learn or share with you. Georgie doesn’t know about the Nether personally. She’s going to convene the Council for an emergency meeting and go from there.”
“I’m sorry, Preston.”
“She put you on the spot to test your merit. I think she admired you for standing up to her.”
“I should go back in and speak with her.”
Selene looked as if she’d rather eat nails, so Preston slung an arm around her shoulders. “Nah. I think the Council meeting is soon enough. Let’s go. There’s something I’d like to show you.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see when we get there. Hold on tight.” Sh
e wrapped an arm around his. “Nope, not tight enough.” He shifted to embrace her. “That’s better.”
Her laugh was his reward. Without another word, he teleported them to Thorne Manor—or rather, the pond where he and Alastair used to fish as children. Her appreciation was heard with her breathy sigh and a cry of “Oh, Preston!”
“This is my estate. Or rather, my children’s estate now.”
She shot him a wry side look. Selene understood all too well the challenges their deaths presented now that they were both alive and kicking again. “You really do trust me.”
As she’d guessed, he never would’ve brought her here, to the place his family was most vulnerable, if he believed she might betray him to their enemies. He held out his hand and conjured food for the ducks. “I thought you could use some downtime. Things have been intense for the last few days.”
Love or something like it softened her features, and she placed her palm flat over the area of his heart. “Thank you, agápi mou.”
“Take time to do what you love.” He dumped the duck food into her hands. “I’ll wait for you. Then I’d like to show you my home.”
“Will you walk with me and tell me about growing up here?”
Over the next few minutes, he spoke of his childhood. Of the love his parents bore their three children. Of racing around, playing cops and robbers with Phillip Carlyle. He told her of the clearing with the standing stones and, eventually, of his antique shop. The one place he escaped to when the world weighed him down. He’d found solace there after Aurora left him for Alastair, and again when his girls were teenagers and he needed a break from all the drama associated with young women.
Selene laughed as he detailed this escapade or that. The amused twinkle in her eyes nearly did him in. They’d just reached the porch when the phone in his pocket vibrated.
“Dammit,” he muttered after he read the text. “We have to head back. It’s time for the Council gathering.”
“Will you bring me back here someday?”
