by KB Anne
He groans, adjusting his elbow. “So that’s what hurts.”
“Listen, Granda, I appreciate the sacrifices you, Dad, Gram, and Mom have made for me—apparently my line is loyal to a fault—but no one else required the Chalice of Healing tonight, so win-win.”
He glances at the supine human figures of Lizzie and Ryan, who are being closely monitored by Alaric, Caer, Scott, and Maddie. “And our werewolf guests. Are they under control?”
“It appears so, but how did they get out?”
He tries to push himself to a seated position. Sam rushes over to assist him.
“When Alaric killed you.”
I frown at him. “Alaric didn’t kill me.”
“He didn’t?”
“Well, he didn’t mean to. He was under Clayone’s power.”
“I believe those few minutes when your lifeblood stopped, your more temporary spells were lifted. That would include the cells you created for Lizzie and Ryan.”
Shock stills me. “And Clayone? Is Clayone still immured?”
Granda reaches for my hand. I willingly extend it to him, not wanting him to exert himself. “He is. The spell you placed on him is directly connected to Brigit. You are the only one who can lift it, and if you die—permanently, I mean—he’ll be trapped in there forever.”
He confirms what Maria already told me when she “gifted” me to Clayone. I release a long sigh of relief.
“Why didn’t Ryan and Lizzie attack you when you left the cottage?”
“Think about it. Tonight is the full moon on the winter solstice. The Oak Moon. Why risk early detection when they could kill you using their wolf forms?”
“But why didn’t they leave the property?”
He breathes in and out through his nose. “That is a question I will answer after you decide what you would like to do with them.”
“Lock them in my room?”
His whole body shudders in a giant grimace. “In my house? Do you realize the racket they will make?”
He does make a good point. “Back in their cells in the crescent moon garden?”
He nods. “I think that would be best.”
* * *
In hindsight, creating a portal and only skipping a few miles over to Granda’s cottage might not have been the best plan for a “covert” location, but Lizzie and Ryan were still trapped in their invisible cells (or at least I thought they were), and I couldn’t very well leave them there. They’d need to eat and drink soon, and it’s not like I left them an all-access pass to a buffet (although given the fact that I brought an entire coven back here with me, I inadvertently almost did).
Though Lizzie might be lost to me, a small hope resides inside me that we can bring Ryan back—and by association, Lizzie. Besides, I brought Alaric back from wanting to kill me, so there’s no reason why Lizzie, given time, understanding, and intensive persuasion, can’t return to my side, and the first step to bringing her back to the light is to keep her from getting hangry.
Scott clutches my arm. “Why did you bring us here? It’s too close to Clarissa’s. The wolves will be able to smell us and will come running in no time.”
Granda sits quietly, which is understandable since he almost died. That weighs heavily on a person. And Clarissa did die. They were close friends. Her death can’t be easy for him. If I let myself linger too long on her passing, on all the death surrounding me, it wouldn’t be easy for me either. And it gives me all the more reason to save the rest of them and shuttle them off to safety—wherever that may be. Lizzie and Ryan prove something of a challenge, but given more time, I’ll figure it out.
“Granda,” I grab his hand, pushing some of my energy into him to recharge his battery, “how long do we have before they find us? And where should we go?”
“Child,” he says, removing his hand from mine, “save your strength. I’ll be fine.”
I reach for him again. “But, Granda . . .”
He blasts a little energy ball at me to keep me back. “You’re not the only one with the ability to move energy,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “I’ve learned a few tricks along the way, including how to ensure that my property is protected. Breas, the Witch, and the wolf pack won’t find us here.”
“But if they got to us at Clarissa’s, they’ll get to us anywhere.”
He shakes his head. “No, they will not be able to break through the boundaries and spells shielding this house. And even if they guess where we are, they’ll never find us.”
“Breas has been here. He knows where you live, and he’s been invited in—though I don’t know if gods follow the same rules that vampires do.”
He shakes his head again. He’s stubborn in his old age. “There are a number of new spells around the perimeter that will deter anyone intending us harm.”
Scott’s forehead pinches. “Meaning . . .”
“Think of it like amnesia. They’ll wind up forgetting where they’re going in the first place and who they were after.”
There are a number of uses for a spell like that.
“Will they remember later?”
“Eventually they will, but they won’t be able to find my cottage even if they’ve already been here.”
Something keeps needling at my brain. “Granda, why wasn’t Clarissa’s property protected? How did they set her house on fire?”
His eyes water. I’m not heartless. I do feel bad for him, but if Witch Kensey can break down the shields around Clarissa’s house, we are in up to our kneecaps in crap.
“Many of the spells for her house were tied to her. Much like the protective spells around your grandmother’s house. As Gallean’s life-force diminished, so did hers. As a result, the spells weakened and the Witch could break through.”
“Are your cottage spells tied to you?” I know it’s insensitive, but there are too many lives at stake and only now am I realizing it, which isn’t very goddess-minded of me.
Scott frowns. My gods, I missed him, but I forgot how judgy he can be and how freaking loud his thoughts are. “Gigi . . .”
Granda lifts his hand. “Scott, it’s fine. Look at everyone here.”
The three of us shift our attention from each other to Anna and Sam huddled together with a few other coven members mourning the death of Clarissa and recovering from the fire. Another cluster of coven members sit close-by. One woman crawls from person to person, attending to wounds by spell or by hand. Alaric, Caer, and Maddie stand together watching us. Tears prick at my eyes. Their lives are vital to my being.
Granda continues. “Gigi wants to ensure they are all protected. No, the spells are not tied to me. If I perish, the shields will stand.”
Based on my readings of old spell books and what I’ve learned from all my mentors—Gram, Dad, Clarissa, Granda, Gallean . . . I’ve had so many—a cost is exacted for powerful spells, meaning something has to be attached to it in order to keep it powerful, to retain its life. My gut tells me there’s something he’s not telling me.
“Who are the spells tied to?”
His blue eyes lock with mine. You know.
I swallow the lump in my throat. There’s so much pressure placed upon my shoulders already and now this?
“You will not fail,” Granda says.
The winds pick up. Hair whips across my face, stinging my eyes. Leaves tumble and swirl around in mini tornadoes. A fine mist starts to fall, soon followed by fat raindrops. There is nothing natural about the storm. There is no way I can battle such a forbidding enemy and win.
“Failure is the only thing I excel at.”
“Your failures have prepared you for the final test.”
3
Justice
Caer paced along the perimeter of the shield around the cottage. Adrenaline raced through her veins as she gripped her sword. She had expected to be engaged in a second battle upon her and Scott’s arrival from the Land of Shadows, but with the full moon, there were too many wolves with too many teeth. There was also that witch. Caer
didn’t know her, but evil seeped from the Witch’s pores and warped the air around her.
Who was she and what was she capable of? The Witch worried her more than even Balor, but that might have been because whenever she even thought of Balor she was blinded with pure rage.
She continued following the boundary to ensure there was no weakness in the shield. Soon Scott caught up to her.
Caer wasn’t so nervous around him since they had spilt so much blood together. “Where are we?”
“Amorin is my grandfather. The cottage is his home. I guess it’s Gigi’s and my home now too since there’s no one else still alive in our family back in the States.”
Caer heard the sadness in his voice. She had felt loss before too. She never knew her mother, but losing her father had almost destroyed her. She never had the luxury of time to mourn his death, but she felt it keenly in her soul all the same.
“And these protective shields are enough to keep the enemy out?”
He lifted his shoulders. “That’s what Granda says. They’re tied to Gigi.”
That piqued Caer’s interest.
“Your grandfather entrusted your sister with his protection?”
Gigi did not strike her as especially powerful, but Gallean had often said Gigi was far more powerful than Scott and Caer put together.
“He did. She’s worried it was a grave mistake, and that all of us, along with the coven, will be caught unaware. My sister believes she was born to fail. She’s embraced that aspect of herself since she was a child.”
“So why would your grandfather entrust her with it?” That seemed liked a fool’s errand to her.
He stiffened. “Because Gigi isn’t a failure. She always gets what she wants, and if she believes she can save the world, she will.”
Skepticism filled her. “On her own?”
He grinned at her. “She will with our help.”
A spike of warmth bloomed within. She fought it back by embracing annoyance. “I haven’t committed to saving the world. Balor is still alive.”
He stepped closer to her so that they stood toe to toe. Caer’s heart raced.
“You will help save the world by killing Balor.”
His proximity made it difficult to breathe. Powerful energy charges pulsed through her. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff without her wings to catch her.
“Caer, you don’t need to be nervous. You aren’t in danger here.”
She edged away from him. “Nervous? I am not nervous.”
He pointed to her back. “Then why are your wings out?”
She eyed the strong swan wings protruding from her back, so different from Keturah’s and the other faeries’, yet the same in a way. It was the first time her wings had appeared without her actually transforming into a swan. It seemed with each passing moment since she’d met Scott, she was discovering new aspects of herself.
The wicked glint in his eyes returned. She licked her lips.
“I would very much like to kiss you,” he whispered.
Without replying, she crushed her lips to his. She might be a skilled warrior and capable of taking care of herself, but as much as she tried to deny it, Scott held the keys to her heart.
* * *
Caer apparently liked to take charge in their relationship. Scott was okay with that. After all, he was the one who had wanted to kiss her and had asked her permission to do so. If by answer she took action, who was he to stop her? He intended to kiss her as long as she let him, because he also knew that, though he had considered using her in the Shadow Realm in order to get back to Gigi, he was now at her mercy. Caer was not a woman to be used or trifled with. She was to be cherished, and Scott hoped with all his might that one day he’d be able to care for her the way she deserved. But even with the threat of Balor and the rest of the Fomorians, along with Breas and Kensey (What in the hells had happened to her?), who were aligned with the werewolves, the coven needed to plan and prepare accordingly for the upcoming battle. But it wasn’t within his power to end the kiss. And her lips, which tasted like strawberries, made it impossible to think of anything else.
“Is kissing necessary when there are wolves breathing down our necks?” Gigi snapped at them.
Scott broke away from Caer. “Don’t you like wolves breathing down your neck? Or at least one wolf?”
Alaric blew on Gigi’s neck as if to prove the point.
She swatted at his chest. “Well, duh. Of course I want Alaric to breathe on my neck, along with a whole lot more,” she said, winking at Alaric before turning back to Scott and Caer, “but we narrowly avoided a potential shit show, and now we need to figure out a plan. Evidently the three of us have a trí cumhacht going on, which means that together we are especially powerful. Anything coming to either one of you with my presence?”
He and Caer glanced at each other. He could still taste the strawberries on his own lips as his eyes fell to hers. He had a lot of ideas, just nothing that would be especially helpful in fighting the enemy.
“My gods,” Gigi exclaimed. “Alaric, get me away from them. Their thoughts have nothing to do with fighting the bad guys, unless fighting includes taking each other’s clothes off.”
A lovely blush crept up Caer’s throat. She looked positively radiant. He wondered what other parts of her were radiant too. Someday he’d find out, but today he remained content on just kissing her. And now with his sister gone, they could return to doing just that.
Though admittedly their timing wasn’t ideal. He sighed. “Shall we assist my sister in saving the world?”
Caer returned Freagarach to its scabbard. “If I get to use my sword, I would love to.”
Caer was an intimidating woman, not only in her physical beauty but in her fierceness.
“Gigi’s right. You are scary when you want to be.”
She flashed her canines at him. “I know.”
He’d like those canines to trail along his throat, but for now, he’d just fantasize about them. He reached for her hand, and she allowed him to take it. Together, they followed Gigi and Alaric over to Granda, who was sitting on a bench, staring off into space. The loss of Clarissa weighed heavily on him.
Scott rested his hand on his grandfather’s shoulder. “Granda, I am sorry for Clarissa. We didn’t know that Gallean’s life was tied to hers. We would have never let him participate in the battle if we had known.”
Granda frowned at him. “Do you really believe that Gallean would have listened to you? He was the world’s most powerful wizard. You might be a reincarnated god, but Caer was his charge—he’d do anything to keep her safe.”
Caer stepped forward. “What do you mean, ‘charge’?”
Granda’s eyes softened. “Your father and Gallean were very close. Both had made it their life’s mission to eliminate Balor. Through the years, there were many casualties, including innocent ones. Neither foresaw the death of your mother.”
“My mother died giving birth to me.”
He breathed in and out before speaking. “She did, but the birthing process did not kill her. A curse was placed upon her when she was a child to ensure that she’d never birth any offspring.”
“But she did.”
“For some reason you are resistant to magic. When you were in your mother’s womb, you kept the curse at bay. When she gave birth to you, her protections disappeared and the curse took root.”
It was clear by Caer’s reaction that it was not the story she’d been told. Scott knew that her father had given his life to protect her. It would stand to reason that he would do whatever he could to keep her safe, even if it meant withholding the truth from her. Granda wasn’t sharing everything he knew, and Scott planned to find out why.
“I don’t understand. Why would someone curse her? Why would someone not want her to have offspring?”
Sam knelt down beside Granda. “Excuse me, Amorin, may I have a word?”
Granda nodded and left the four of them standing in a huddle with
significant parts of the conversation lacking.
Caer looked to Scott and Gigi. “Who would curse my mother to prevent her from having offspring?”
He had no answer, and his sister didn’t even provide a wise retort. Alaric, however, studied Caer for a long time. He’d done it several times already. In the beginning, Scott assumed it was because Caer was strikingly beautiful and lethal all at once, but now he suspected there might be another reason.
Gigi touched Alaric’s arm and said, “I would tell them your theory.”
He hesitated. Whatever he was about to suggest wasn’t going to sit well with any of them.
Caer glared at him. “You test my patience.”
Alaric’s eyes shifted to Gigi’s. She nodded in support.
Caer growled. Apparently she was even less patient than Gigi. Scott couldn’t believe that was possible.
Alaric sighed before beginning. “If there was a prophecy predicting my death and it was attached to someone from my future generation, I’d make sure that there wasn’t a future generation.”
Scott stiffened. “But that would mean that Caer was destined to kill that person, and her only mission in life is to kill Balor.”
Alaric raised an eyebrow.
Caer staggered backward. “No, it can’t be.”
4
Can’t Choose Family
After Alaric dropped his bombshell, none of us spoke. The possible implications were way too freaking huge to even begin to talk about unless sufficient time had passed and several shots of whiskey could be distributed between us. Trouble was, no one handed out shots, so we stood around in shock with our thumbs up our bums, trying to wrap our heads around the notion that Caer could be related to Balor. I mean, she does cast one steely gaze, however none of us had turned to stone yet. (Though she did know how to ice Scott very well. And heat him up too, but that was for an entirely different reason.)
