Born In Water

by Sarah Hegger

  “Jesus, Edana, it’s the fucking morning,” Fiona yelled.

  Stepping in front of Roderick, Edana fired again. And again. And again.

  Roderick jerked as bullet after bullet slammed into him.

  “Shit.” Fiona increased their pace as she dragged her back. “She’ll have the entire sodding village up and around our ears.”

  Bronwyn tried to fight free of Fiona, but the woman was unbelievably strong.

  She stopped and yanked Bronwyn to a halt. “Get her in the car.”

  Hands reached for her, grabbed her and shoved her into a car.

  On the green, Roderick staggered to his feet, his entire shirt red with blood.

  Stepping up to him, Edana fired one more bullet and he dropped.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The car was moving, buildings blurring past the windows, and someone was screaming.

  “Shut her the fuck up,” Fiona snarled from the passenger seat.

  A sharp slap whipped Bronwyn’s head to the side. It was her; she was screaming. The person beside her hit her again. Her face went numb.

  The final image of Roderick, blood soaked and collapsed on the grass was seared on her brain. “You killed him.”

  “Roderick?” Edana’s voice came from the driver’s seat. “I should be so fucking lucky. That bastard is as strong as an ox. As much as I’d like to believe you, I won’t believe he’s dead until the day I dance on his corpse.”

  “You just had to do it, didn’t you?” Fiona sneered at Edana. “You’ll never get over him choosing Maeve over you.”

  “He didn’t choose her. He was called to bond her, and that’s not the same thing as choosing her over me.” Edana sniffed. “Besides, that has nothing to do with it. I bought us time to get away.”

  “By firing a gun in broad daylight?” Fiona shook her head and stared out the window. “You’re going to explain to our lady why you let your obsession with Roderick almost screw up this entire thing.”

  He had looked dead to Bronwyn. Nothing short of death would stop Roderick. She might not have known him long, but she knew that about him. Oh God, Maeve. She would be broken without him.

  “Don’t.” Fiona jabbed a finger at her. “If you start screaming again, I’ll make you wish you were dead.”

  Panic almost got the best of her anyway. The stench of copper and rot in the confined space of the car made her gag. Buildings and trees flashed past her window, and then they were on the highway.

  A man sat on either side of her, both staring straight ahead.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked the car in general.

  After a pause, Edana answered, “You’re one of those American witches, right?”

  “Yes.” That seemed a safe enough piece of information to reveal, and it wasn’t like her accent gave her any choice.

  Edana turned to Fiona. “How did she get to England? I thought we managed to kill them while they were still over there and clueless.”

  “Does it matter?” Fiona shrugged. Her profile was strong and clearly etched against the windshield. She had long red hair caught in a ponytail. “She’s here now and Maeve is awake.”

  “Huh?” Edana glanced at her.

  “The cardinal points?” Fiona scowled at Edana. “The one she’s supposed to reactivate?”

  “Oh.” Edana giggled. “I didn’t think of that.”

  Fiona shook her head and stared out the windshield. “Right, because you were always such a deep thinker.”

  “You’re a bitch,” Edana said, in a tone that suggested it was neither a new thought nor a new sentiment. “I just thought we wanted her because of the prophecy.”

  “We do.” Fiona breathed deep.

  “But—”

  “Just drive!”

  Bronwyn put her head back against the headrest to try to steady her thoughts. These bitches might have been part of killing her family, killing her mother and then Dee. They would pay for that. She would make sure of it by surviving this and making them pay.

  In the cars they passed, people went about their morning with no idea of what was happening to her, but Maeve knew and Thomas. And Roderick.

  Roderick couldn’t be dead. Please, Goddess, don’t let him be dead. To have survived the coven massacre and existed in that living death for all those hundreds of years, just to get shot and killed. It didn’t make any sense.

  Please. Bronwyn reached for a deity she wasn’t even sure could hear her. Goddess, please, take care of your own.

  “Better rest up.” Fiona grinned at her over her shoulder. “You’re going to need it.”

  A year ago, Bronwyn had buried Deidre. At the time, she’d thought that was the worst thing that could happen to her. With Deidre’s death, she’d lost the only person she had in the world. Then she’d taken her inheritance and come here, chasing some dream of finding her roots and the answers to the curse plaguing her family.

  Welp! She’d discovered the curse hounding her family. These bitches, in the car with her now, they were part of the curse and the death that had decimated her life. She shared that bond with Maeve, and hopefully, still Roderick. As she calmed, she refused to believe him dead. Such a force of nature didn’t end with a whimper.

  “You realize Roderick will come for me?” They didn’t need to know she was unsure.

  Edana glanced at Fiona. “Will he?”

  “Of course he will.” Fiona shrugged. “But he’s bonded to Maeve, and he cannot override the compulsion to look after her first.” She looked over her shoulder at Bronwyn. “That’s assuming the cunt is still alive.”

  Wow! They were breaking out the c-word now. “So, you two sell your entire coven to Rhiannon and get eternal life out of it?”

  “Close enough.” Fiona shrugged. “You’re an infant witch, not even bonded yet. You have no idea the power we hold at our fingertips.”

  “We?” Bronwyn couldn’t stop the laugh. “You say that as if we have something in common. I’m nothing like you.”

  Fiona turned in her seat, her eyes glittering. “I’m sure it’s a comfort to you to think that. One of us is the bad guy.” She pointed to herself. “And the other is the hero.” She chuckled. “God, I love your American oversimplification of life. Shall we all have a Disney moment and end up friends?” Her expression turned brutal. “That’s not going to happen, princess. You’re a pawn in a game so much bigger than you. You have bugger all value in and of yourself. You’re not even a proper witch.”

  “Ooh burn!” It was so childish, but it felt so good. “Next you’ll tell me I can’t sit with you.”

  Edana glanced at Fiona. “Why can’t she sit with us?”

  “Jesus.” Fiona rolled her eyes and glared at Edana. “I’m conflicted between admiring and resenting how stupid you are.”

  “Shut up, you minger bitch.”

  “No, you shut up.”

  They were drifting into Hocus Pocus territory now. If she wasn’t so shit scared, she’d be laughing.

  Edana drove through the day without stopping. Places blurred past the windows and Bronwyn tried to catch a village or city name from the road signs they passed. When they passed the sign for Stoke Mandeville for the third time, she realized Edana was driving them in circles.

  “I need to stop,” she said. It wasn’t lie. “I need to use the bathroom.”

  Fiona glanced back and shrugged. “Don’t really give a shit.”

  “Settle down, princess.” Edana’s toffee-dark eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “In case you’re not getting this, nobody cares what you want or what you need. You’re nothing but a vessel.”

  “Vessel?” It was a peculiarly specific word to use. “You’re talking about that stupid prophecy, aren’t you?”

  “Christ! You really are a dumb bitch, you know that?” Fiona glared at Edana. “If you open your mouth and piss Rhiannon off, you’re on your own. I’m not running interference for you.”

  Edana scowled at Fiona. “I don’t see what difference it makes
if she knows or not.”

  “Yeah, you really don’t see.” Fiona shook her head. “Drive and try not to speak. Even better, try not to think either. You really suck at it.”

  “Fuck you.” Edana went with a tried and true, if not original, response.

  The argument devolved from there into a verbal bitch fight but produced no more useful information.

  Another two hours by the dashboard clock later, the bright, beautiful day seemed a mockery as Edana pulled the vehicle into a service station. She hopped out.

  Fiona glanced at the silent goons on either side of Bronwyn. “Don’t let her move. Even if she threatens to pee on you, keep her there.”

  A Mercedes-Benz sedan with tinted windows glided up beside them. Alexander climbed from the passenger side.

  Bronwyn’s gaze locked on him with starved desperation. A brief, bright flare of hope coursed through her.

  He walked to the back of the vehicle she was in and opened the trunk.

  She called his name, “Alexander.”

  Without looking at her, he hauled two bags out and carried them over to the trunk of the Mercedes and tossed them in.

  It hurt so much it robbed her of breath. Roderick had been right about him all along. Alexander had only been acting on behalf of Rhiannon. She breathed deeply, refusing to cry in front of these assholes. When Roderick came for her and took her back to Baile, then she could cry.

  Edana approached Alexander and slid her arms around his neck. She pressed her body against his.

  Jealousy ripped through Bronwyn, followed by a sense of betrayal. Alexander had lied to her from the beginning. There would be time later for the tears locked tight in her chest.

  She couldn’t hear what Edana was saying to him, but Alexander’s arms stayed by his side and his face remained blank. It was not the sort of expression she’d seen on his face before. His expression was completely devoid of animation. Peering past her goon bookend, she studied him closer. There was something seriously off with him.

  Fiona stopped beside Alexander and Edana and spoke to them. She snapped her fingers and Alexander grimaced. A trickle of blood drifted over his lip, and Edana wiped it away and licked the blood off her finger.

  Shuddering, Fiona gave her a look of disgust and strode for the car Bronwyn was in. She yanked open the door and jerked her head. “Get her out.” She smirked at Bronwyn. “Pucker up, princess. Your date is here.”

  Right side goon clambered out and dragged her out by her upper arm. His grip was hard, not bruising, but there was also no chance she could break it.

  Other than them, the service station was empty of people.

  “Edana.” Rhiannon climbed out of the back of the Mercedes. “He’s not for you. Never was.”

  With a grumble, Edana stepped away from Alexander.

  “Alexander.” Rhiannon stared at Bronwyn. With her glittering dark eyes and flushed cheeks, she was quite beautiful, but in the way of a deadly, sharp blade.

  Blade made her think of Roderick, and her heart ached. With everything she had, she prayed he was still alive.

  At the sound of his name, Alexander jerked and strode toward Bronwyn. “You need to come,” he said, his voice flat like his expression. His gaze fixed over her left shoulder.

  With Rhiannon in such proximity, the shared genetics between them was clear. Except in her skinny jeans and close-fitting button-up shirt, Rhiannon looked like she could be his younger sister.

  Staring up into his beautiful face, Bronwyn found it hard to believe nothing that had happened between them had been real. He had been lying the entire time.

  His dark, dark gaze shifted to her, and there was nothing there. No recognition, no connection. A chill swept through Bronwyn. Some tiny part of her must have been holding out hope that Alexander being there meant help.

  “Come.” He put his hand on her arm. His gaze stuck on where right-hand goon still had hold of her bicep. Alexander stilled, his focus on the point where goon touched her. “Take your hand off her.”

  Goon dropped her arm like it was radioactive. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Very good, darling.” Rhiannon spoke to Alexander like he was a favored dog. “This will go so much easier if you actually like the girl.” She glanced at Fiona and laughed. “I never thought him getting fond of her would be a good thing, but you see how it is.”

  “Yes, Rhiannon.” Fiona lost any trace of attitude and inclined her head deferentially. “A fortunate side benefit of their spending time together.”

  “Alexander?” Bronwyn spoke his name quietly. Something was not right with him, and she went with her gut.

  “Come.” He tugged her across the parking lot to the Mercedes and opened the door for her.

  Rhiannon’s sky-high heels clicked over the concrete as she sashayed closer. “Get in, dear. Be a good girl, and things will go much easier for you.”

  “What do you want from me?” Under the gentle pressure of Alexander’s hand on her shoulder, she eased into the back of the Mercedes. She cast one more desperate look around the service station, hoping for something, someone, to see what was happening. A pigeon cooed from the trees bordering the lot.

  She stared in the direction of the sound. It was a tiny connection with Niamh and Baile. She reached for the pigeon, honey and sage filled the air.

  “Ah, no.” Rhiannon waved a hand and Bronwyn’s gut clenched as if she’d been punched in it. She struggled to draw her next breath. “There will be no magic, dear girl.” She leaned into the car and tangled her hand in Bronwyn’s hair and brought her head up. “I can make you hurt so bad you would wish for death.” The way she said it, almost pleasantly, was the most chilling part of the statement. “But I won’t kill you, I’ll keep you alive and aware enough to feel every moment of suffering.”

  The pigeon cooed again, and this time, it made her feel even more alone as she thought of Roz and Niamh and all the others at Baile. They would have no idea how to find her. If they were even looking. Maybe she was wrong, and Roderick had died, and they were mourning him.

  Alexander shut her car door, sealing her in the warm interior that smelled of new leather and the underlying stench she was beginning to associate with blood magic. God, and how she wished she’d never encountered blood magic, let alone enough of it to identify its smell.

  The other rear door opened, and Rhiannon slid in beside her.

  Alexander climbed into the front passenger seat, and the car glided into the road.

  Rhiannon turned sideways and stared at her. “You’re not what I expected.”

  That made two of them, but Bronwyn refused to reply and stared out the window.

  “The old cré-witches were much more impressive.” Rhiannon chuckled. “But then, it’s not your magic we all want, is it?”

  Bronwyn kept her mouth shut. She didn’t know what Rhiannon was capable of, but Roderick had said to never underestimate her, and Bronwyn didn’t intend to. If she played this smart, she might make it out alive. Like Maeve had told them she did with the Roderick bond, Bronwyn built barriers in her mind and shut herself behind them. If Rhiannon could read minds, Bronwyn intended to show her nothing but a blank wall.

  She kept her attention on the landscape sliding past the window. With Edana’s driving in circles, they could be anywhere in England, but the directional indicator in the rearview mirror told her they were now heading north.

  The smooth, comfortable ride of the car and the barely discernible engine purr lulled her into a kind of trance. Nothing beyond the windows looked at all familiar. Time blurred, and she lost all sense of it. She came alert when the car stopped, and the engine was turned off.

  “Finally.” Rhiannon nudged her. “We’re here.”

  “Where are we?” Bleary eyed, Bronwyn peered out the window.

  Rhiannon chuckled. “Somewhere nobody knows about but me and my disciples.”

  Disciples? Talk about delusional. Then again, Rhiannon had managed to get her kidnapped and taken to God alone knew wher
e. They could have traveled as far north as Scotland, and Bronwyn would have no idea.

  A roof poked up from behind thick, dark green foliage, and they appeared to have stopped in a driveway. The longer shadows of late afternoon crept around the car.

  Alexander was already out and taking bags from the trunk.

  “Come.” Rhiannon slid out the car and motioned her to join her.

  Bronwyn eyed the driveway. She could make a run for it.

  “Don’t be tedious.” Rhiannon clicked her fingers, and Bronwyn couldn’t move. Her feet felt like they were nailed to the floor. A crushing sensation in her chest robbed her of breath.

  “Yes, dear.” Rhiannon smirked. “That is me doing that. I warned you earlier, but you clearly required a demonstration.”

  She turned and led the way up the stone path. They walked through a gap in the obscuring shrubs to a small, thatched cottage, which Bronwyn might have found charming if it wasn’t about to be her prison.

  Opening the door, Alexander motioned her inside. Sunlight slanted through mullioned windowpanes in a mellow golden glow that bounced off rows of copper pans hanging from the ceiling. A wooden table gleamed with polish in the center of a charming kitchen. An old range burped out low lingering heat.

  Bronwyn wandered into a living room furnished with two huge, squishy sofas covered in floppy pink and red cabbage roses.

  “You’re through here.” Alexander opened one of the three doors leading off a central corridor beyond the living room.

  Her bedroom fit the rest of the cottage, complete with a beckoning fourposter bed covered in a welcoming barrage of pillows.

  Alexander put the bags in the room, and said in that strange wooden voice, “Are you hungry?”

  “No.” She pointed at the bags. “Who’s are those.”

  “Yours,” he said and left.

  Bronwyn stared at the bags but didn’t dare go any closer. She had no idea what was in there, but it looked like enough stuff for an extended stay.

  “Ah!” Rhiannon walked into the room and gave it a thorough once-over. She smiled at Alexander. “Well done. I had to trust one of my disciples to set this up, but it will do nicely.”