Love Spell in London

by Shereen Vedam

  “I come not on my behalf, Miss Adair,” the goddess said, “but on my father’s. He is gravely ill. If you are willing to assist, then save your energy for attending to him.”

  “Grace, you have just recovered from tending the human,” her mother said. “You need to rest.”

  “I am fine, Mama.” Grace waved her mother off and stepped closer to the goddess, probing for the source of those two injuries. The injury on her leg was a simple wound but the one on her temple had a dark center that ate away at the energy the goddess exerted to heal herself.

  The inky invasion drew Grace like a thorn embedded in a cat’s paw. She realized with a shock that it was alive. As alive as the goddess. As if a piece of the underworld had insinuated inside Llyn, like a rat scurrying through the kitchen and leaving a flea in its wake to bite an unwary cook.

  “I have never worked on a goddess before,” Grace said in a thoughtful tone. “If I am able to heal you, we may gain insight into my ability to assist your father. So, please, will you allow me to try to mend your hurts?”

  The lady hesitated. “We have little time to spare.”

  “I shall be quick.” Grace waved everyone away. Her patient was not writhing this time and did not need to be held down. “I need space and privacy.”

  Her mother was the last to leave, her concerned glance lingering as Grace’s grandmother pulled her away.

  Not knowing how to deal with the forehead invasion, she decided to focus on the easily managed ankle injury first, to give herself time to think about the other problem.

  “What happened?” Grace whispered, curious to know how Dewer had dealt with the hornets and how the water goddess had become involved in that mission. She also wanted to distract the goddess while she worked.

  “I took the shape of a cloud and trapped the three remaining hornets inside me,” Llyn said, “to keep Mr. Dewer from harming them. Then he said it would please you if we returned them to the underworld from whence they came, so we devised a plan to do so.”

  That news caught Grace’s attention. Dewer had tried to save those hornets to please her? She glanced over to where he and his mother were still in deep discussion. If he were not so far away, she might have hugged him. Of course, that would inflame his mother’s wrath. She returned to her examination of the goddess’s leg wound, which bore Dewer’s magical signature. Curious. These two must have sparred before they partnered to save the hornets. An irresistible smile teased her lips. He was capable of change and interested in pleasing her.

  “Dewer was to hold a gate to the underworld open, while I shunted them through,” the water goddess continued, well and truly caught in the drama of that memory. “Only, when we opened the gate, a demon, Adramelech, was waiting for us and pulled me completely into his realm. I am a water-being, Miss Adair, and the underworld is a place of fire.”

  Grace’s breath caught in profound sympathy at the fear trembling on her patient’s words.

  Still, with the goddess’s attention thoroughly distracted, she no longer resisted Grace’s probes into her ankle’s injury.

  “How did you escape, my lady?” she asked, to keep her patient talking as she worked on her patient’s ankle.

  “Please, call me Llyn.”

  “Then I must be Grace.”

  Llyn nodded. “I did not escape, Grace. I was rescued. By that fae/warlock. He charged into the underworld after me like an avenging angel and bowled into Adramelech in a ball of light that caused the demon’s monster hornets swooping in to strike to scatter in terror.”

  Grace glanced back at Dewer, her heart swelling with pride at his heroic action. The man continued to amaze her. Just when she thought she had him pegged; he flashed a new, even more appealing, side.

  His back was to Grace while he spoke in hushed tones with this mother. The two appeared to be arguing. When were they not? Grace’s mother and grandmother and the humans stayed well away from the fuming pair, while the two hellhounds hovered near him, ears and tails drooped.

  “The younger of his two hellhounds raced in behind him,” Llyn continued. “He clenched me in his jaws and dragged me back out through the gate.”

  “Farfur? What a good hound!” Now, him, she could hug without fear of repercussion, though he would not appreciate the gesture as much as his master might.

  “Not once did he release his hold on me, ignoring all who attacked him. I have never witnessed a demon spawn act with such selflessness, even under a compulsion to obey.”

  Farfur was more than Dewer’s servant now. He was his familiar, with all that complicated relationship entailed. Grace only half listened to Llyn’s tale, as she quickly worked to heal the bruise on her ankle.

  “The other hellhound stood guard outside of the gate,” Llyn was saying, “fending off all the creatures that tried to get out through the opening. I was literally steaming by then, hardly able to think clearly.” She cringed, as if the fires of Hell were still licking at her from all sides. “I did glance back once to check on Mr. Dewer. He had his hands around Adramelech’s throat. There was murder in his eyes, Miss Adair, and his gaze was as red hot as the demon’s. The sight terrified me. Then one of the hornets we were returning swooped in and stung Dewer on his cheek.”

  Grace withdrew her touch from Llyn’s ankle, having completely healed it, and finally turned to her forehead injury. All the while she had been working on the ankle, her thoughts had been on this forehead wound. Now she had an idea on how to deal with it.

  “ONCE I WAS OUT OF THE underworld,” Llyn said, but she sounded quieter now, as if that wound at her temple was draining her energy to think, to speak, to finish this tale. “Then The gate began to close.”

  Llyn leaned forward over her bent knees as if she no longer had the strength to sit up. “I worried Dewer would be trapped. I called out to him to follow me, but I feared he did not hear me. At the last moment, he released his hold on his enemy and flew after me. The gate slammed shut behind him, leaving us with naught but echoes of Adramelech’s impotent howls.”

  Hoping to distract the lady from her next work, Grace asked, “How does your ankle feel?”

  Llyn glanced at her delicate ankle, twisting it right and then left, as if surprised that it no longer pained her. “What did you do?”

  Grace, sitting cross-legged on the grassy ground, said, “A simple healing. The wound on your forehead is more complicated.”

  From that point forward, if her patient spoke, Grace no longer heard the words. She shook off her lethargy to focus entirely on her new goal. Once Grace understood the concept of invasion, she knew how to destroy the darkness that had taken root inside Llyn. For the best way to end an infestation, whether by rats or fleas, was to lure them with bait to a secure holding and then ensure they could not escape.

  Keeping her distance so as not to alarm this dark infestation into noticing her intention, she expanded her reach, circling the wound, cutting off avenues of escape, of prolonged sustenance, until she could cut off its feeding trough.

  Before Grace’s healing light had the darkness entirely within its firm grip, the infestation realized the danger it was in and frantically retreated, escaping, and searing Grace as it brushed by her touch.

  She patiently waited for it to come out of hiding. When it finally slithered out to check if the coast was clear, this time she struck swiftly.

  As the infestation frantically attempted to escape again, it couldn’t. She had effectively trapped it in her net. Much like those hornets Llyn had been transporting within herself, except Grace had no intention of allowing this invader to escape.

  She relentlessly shrank her grip, absorbing every attack from within. Finally, the invader was no more than a pinprick of midnight within her healing light. Then it was gone. Like a flame snuffed out. Though Grace was drained by that monumental effort, she also effervesced at her success.

  Thankfully, whatever compulsion the Laneast well had placed on Grace to do no harm to another living being, appeared not to have bee
n extended to this invader. There were limitations to what she felt a compulsion to save. Excellent. That meant there was some hope for a future for her and Dewer yet.

  Grace’s successful elimination of the darkness left her thoroughly exhausted. She attempted to stand, and instead slumped sideways.

  Llyn caught her in her arms. “Grace!”

  She could barely keep her eyes open. Two strong arms lifted her in the air and she curled into Dewer’s dear embrace, inhaling his lovely smoky scent. As darkness swept over her, she brushed his wounded cheek, absorbing the sting from his flesh into hers and whispered, “Thank you for sparing the hornets.”

  DEWER TENDERLY CARRIED Grace to his mother’s side, his cheek tingling where she had caressed him. He shared an entreating glance with his mother to assist him and she nodded, though her tightly held lips said she disapproved of his silent request.

  Together, seated on the ground, they worked to replenish Miss Adair’s drained energy.

  As light as a feather, the young witch lay alarmingly limp in Dewer’s arms.

  Grace’s mother hurried over and demanded that she be allowed to help.

  His mother soundly rejected that offer. “I refuse to work with a witch.”

  “You already did, to build our shield,” the baroness objected.

  “Let them be,” Dotty said, in a firm tone, drawing her daughter away. “You are exhausted from helping Grace after she healed the footman. You have nothing left to give her.”

  “She is my responsibility.”

  “She is a grown woman. Time to allow her to fly out of your nest.” The old lady drew Grace’s mother aside, to where the humans were gathered together beside the carriage.

  “This foolish woman stripped herself of all her strength to help the water goddess,” his mother murmured in disgust as she stared at Grace lying limp in his arms. “How could she not see the danger she put herself in and stop in time?”

  “I am so sorry,” Llyn said, hovering nearby. “I did not realize what was happening or I would have stopped her. Oh dear. My father still needs her help.”

  “Give us space to work.” His mother impatiently waved her away. The minute they were alone, she said in a fierce tone to Dewer, “I refuse to do it.”

  Since she continued to channel energy into Grace, Dewer guessed they had switched topics back to what they had been arguing about earlier.

  “You are already half in love with this witch,” his mother added. “If she must have protection while she insists on going on this daft quest to the Welsh water god’s realm to heal him, I will accompany her. You may continue to London with the two witches and the humans. Though why you do not leave them and speed to London to claim to your title is beyond me.”

  “The title can wait, Mother,” he said, in a flat uncompromising voice. “I have two weeks yet to meet that deadline, before parliament ends their session. Whereas, Miss Adair needs me now. I might trust her family into your uncertain care – they are powerful enough to defend themselves – but not Miss Adair. You have proved time and again that you will not hesitate to harm those I care for.”

  “So, you admit you have feelings for this one!”

  Chapter 8

  SOMEONE SHOOK ALFRED’S shoulder. “Wake up!”

  Ethel! He sat up with a start. What was she doing in the underworld? In his bedchamber? “I delivered all the souls you sent me to collect, just as you asked. Except for Jack. The witch revived him.”

  “I heard.” Ethel sat on the cushy bed beside him, fully clothed, from muscle and skin to gown and slippers.

  Alfred moaned at being caught naked again, his bones showing. Even his coverings were splayed on the floor where he’d chucked them after collapsing in despair last night.

  “What I missed was what happened next,” Ethel said.

  “What do you mean? There was nothing to report.”

  She picked up his tablet from the end table and ran a finger along its new crack. “You spoke with Llyn?”

  Heat rushed up to his skeletal cheeks. Alfred retrieved his tablet and set it on the table. “Yes, then she went home.”

  “Did she?” Ethel gave him a long-suffering look. “Typical. You did not wait long enough to see the end of the story. Alfred, Adramelech pulled her into the underworld.”

  “What! He did not—”

  “The fae/warlock saved her.” Ethel held her finger and thumb an inch apart before his nose. “Witnesses say he was this close to ending the demon’s life.”

  He slapped her hand away. If he still had a heart, it would be thumping with horror. “Is Llyn all right? She would have steamed down here. She is a water being!”

  “Is she?” Even with her bones fully covered, Ethel’s cheek stretched into a macabre smile.

  Alfred gave up on her and frantically checked his tablet. Recent enrollees of the dead scrolled up on the maddeningly flickering screen. He sent a silent prayer that he would not spot Llyn’s name.

  “So, I was right,” Ethel said, in a jovial tone. “You are in love with the mermaid.”

  “She is not a mermaid!”

  She hugged him tight, squishing the stone tablet between them so hard it was in danger of completely splitting apart. “I knew it.”

  “Release me.” Alfred pushed her away. His tablet screen was blank, along with his hopes. What if Llyn’s name had been at the bottom of that list? “Look what you’ve done.”

  “You can use mine until you get yours fixed or you are given a new one. Oh, and Llyn is very much alive.”

  He glanced cautiously at his friend.

  She nodded. “That is what I came to tell you. I was worried you might have heard about the fight at the gateway. Rumors flew that Adramelech had killed a water goddess but that was horse manure flung by his pet hornets. She is alive, and thanks to the clever Miss Adair, healed.”

  Alfred breathed in abject relief and leaned against his bed’s headboard, broken tablet forgotten on his lap. After a moment of contemplation, he remembered his manners. “Thank you for telling me. I thought you were busy.”

  “I am, but I also know you well, my friend. I suspected that you might be moping around after finally meeting the love of your life.”

  “She sees me as nothing more than Death,” Alfred said in a glum tone. “I could have been any death collector.”

  “Did you tell her that you have adored her from afar for ages? That you admire her greatly? That her beautiful smile melts your bones? Alfred, she needs to hear how you feel. Did you even introduce yourself?”

  “She was in a rush.”

  “We all are. A girl needs to feel that you care about what she cares about. How can she discover that if you do not even speak to her?”

  “I know what she cares about. Healing her father, and that means pleasing a witch from Callington.”

  Ethel flicked a hand in dismissal. “Did you learn that from her or from your broken tablet?”

  “From watching her confront the dark fae’s son.”

  “You did not stay long enough to act as her hero when Adramelech attacked her.”

  “I did not know she would get pulled in there!”

  “Well, what is done is done. Your lady is safe now, thanks to the fae/warlock. You owe him a debt of gratitude for saving her. Which is why I have decided to send you to Wales.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The water god is on death’s doorstep, metaphorically, and when it is time to collect him, better that it be by someone who is sympathetic to his daughter’s tender feelings.” She tossed his tablet onto the side table where it landed with a clunk that made him cringe. “If you are to impress the water goddess, don’t forget to dress properly.”

  She stood and as she opened a gateway to Britain’s best-known city, the clip-clop of horses’ hooves in London echoed inside Alfred’s deathly quiet abode. Before he could argue that he might not be the right man for this job, she had vanished. She had also forgotten to leave her tablet with him to use.

 
With a sigh, Alfred left his comfy bed. On his end table, his tablet winked to life, displaying an underwater scene where among undulating plants, little fishes swam. A shadow among those reeds caught his attention. He drew closer and spotted an eel swim by as if in a frantic hurry.

  DEWER UNCONSCIOUSLY hugged Miss Adair closer before answering his mother’s accusation that he cared for this witch. All the while he kept channeling his energy into her, hoping to revive her strength. It felt too little because he was already exhausted from the battle with Adramelech. He could use his mother’s help, not only with safeguarding Grace’s family on their way to London but healing her, too.

  He glanced at this fierce fae queen, his mind whirling on ways to get around her. His mother would sooner kill Grace than help her in any way. Hate seemed to be her calling card. Yet, she also knew how to love. There might be a sliver of an opening there. “You have always said caring for another person makes us weak. Yet, you profess to care for me.”

  “You are my son.”

  “You also cared for my father.”

  “Which proves my point.”

  “What about Adramelech?”

  For the first time, she avoided his gaze. “What about him?”

  “Why do you tolerate him?”

  “That relationship is complicated.”

  With a monumental effort, he held his tongue, suppressing the urge to spew out his suspicions about that vile demon. The time was not right. There was still too much hidden about what had truly happened the night his father was murdered. Instead, he simply said, “So is this one.”

  “Why must I travel to London? I have business elsewhere. I am a busy woman.”

  “Not too busy to keep you from interfering with my plans,” he said in dismissal. “In my absence, aside from protecting Miss Adair’s family, someone will have to deal with the underworld invasion of London. In Miss Adair’s absence, her father also needs assistance with whatever troubles him.”