“Umm…yeah. I mean, I don’t know,” I hedged, backing away to admire my handiwork.
“Well, I do,” he said, reaching out to cup my jaw. “I wonder all the time. And I can’t help but hope that the universe designed it so that we would meet, one way or another, because we have a destiny to fulfill.”
I was powerless to stop myself from meeting his gaze now, and my busy hands fell to my sides.
“Our priority is to bring your coven back to its former strength and take down the Organization,” he murmured as his fingers slid to my nape. “But know this. The second it’s done…the second we win this war, my next priority is to get you into my bed and keep you there for as long as you’ll let me.”
If I’d wondered about his intentions since finding out who he truly was, I wondered no more.
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as he drew me closer, until we were nose to nose.
“I like you, Cricket. I like everything about you. Your laugh. Your wisecrack remarks. The way you protect those you love and fight for what’s right. And I’m finding it damn hard to resist that mouth of yours, even now, in the midst of the direst of circumstances. Can I kiss you?”
My knees knocked together once before my head bobbed up and down of its own accord.
“Thank God.”
His lips touched mine in the softest of kisses. An almost reverent exploration that stole my breath. I leaned into him on a groan as he gently nipped my bottom lip with his teeth and then tugged, before tracing the spot with his tongue.
I swayed, clutching his broad shoulders for support as his free arm stole around my bottom.
“I was going to ask if you guys wanted a midnight snack, but it seems like you’ve got your hands full, so I’ll just sneak on out of here…”
I could hear the chuckle in Zoe’s voice as I jerked away from Patrick with a start.
This was what happened when you were hiding out from a cult with family. Zero expectation of privacy.
“Don’t let me stop you,” Zoe continued. “I just needed to grab the bags with our clothes and I’ll get out of your hair.”
True to her word, she melted out of the room a minute later, but the spell had been broken. Now, all I felt was awkward and self-conscious.
“Look, Patrick, I liked you…”
He drew back like I’d stricken him and I rushed to continue.
“I still like you. But I can’t make any decisions about anything except right now. I need every ounce of my concentration just to figure out what I’m supposed to do, and how not to botch this all up and get my cousin and grandmother killed in the process. They’re looking to me to lead them,” I said with an almost hysterical laugh. “Me. I have no clue what I’m doing, and everything is happening so fast.”
Patrick stood and took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not asking for promises, or even an answer. I wasn’t honest with you about my intentions when we first met, so I wanted to be honest about them now. I want you. It’s a declaration, not a question. If and when you want to do something about it, you let me know. I’ll be here…ready, and waiting.”
The words sent a shudder through me, leaving me breathless, so I just nodded.
“Thanks for playing nurse. I’m going to go see if I can help them set up the hosing off station, yeah? Why don’t you go ahead and see Maude?”
Grateful for the reprieve, I nodded and Patrick headed out of the room. I sucked in a stabilizing breath and scurried over to the closet where we’d hidden Maude before we left. I couldn’t wait to see her after all this. There was little chance anyone would’ve taken her with the cop right outside, even if they’d known where she was, but unlike before, I wasn’t sure if she was taken if she’d find her way back to me as she had so many times. We decided we couldn’t be too careful, and had buried her under a pile of old flour sacks.
I sat down on the rug and unearthed her in a rush, tossing the sacks aside. And as much as my interaction with Patrick had sent me for a tailspin, the second I saw the old girl, everything felt right with the world.
“Maude,” I whispered, reaching out to stroke the keys lovingly. They felt electric…alive.
Perfect. Our bond was stronger than ever, the knowledge filled me with joy and gratitude. Whatever else needed doing, I knew we could manage it, together.
I sat there for a long time, just letting those good feelings replenish my soul, but the need to type never came. Maybe even Maude sensed that I’d maxed out mentally for the day—but I knew in my bones, when the time was right, she would let me know.
A while later, I lifted her from her hiding spot, onto the desk, and headed back out to join the others.
Patrick sat on a chair in the storefront of the bakery with a steaming mug in hand, his hair damp and curling at the edges. Zoe’s makeshift shower situation must’ve worked well enough, because he looked clean as a whistle and more relaxed than I’d seen him since...well, before I knew he wasn’t just a handyman.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I felt kind of like an elephant at the zoo,” Mee-maw was saying with a throaty chuckle. “Pretty handy, the way the kitchen floor has the drain in it and all.”
“By the way, don’t think I’m not telling Cricket that you spent at least twenty minutes under the hot spray,” Zoe teased.
“I’m not the one paying the bill,” Mee-maw, a shower dictator in her own house, crowed, pausing to take a long pull from her glass.
“Did you leave any hot water for me?” I teased, stepping into the room.
All eyes flicked my way, and I was happy to see that my cousin and grandmother looked much better than when I’d seen them last. Apparently, all it took was a win and some soap and water to breathe new life into a cause.
“How about a drink, first?” Zoe asked.
I nodded and accepted the glass she had all ready for me with a nod of thanks.
“Trudy texted, by the way. She got home safe, no problem,” Mee-maw said.
“All in all, a really good day.”
There were nods all around, but no more words. We sat in companionable silence for a half an hour, each lost in our own thoughts as we unwound. When Mee-maw’s head began to bob, Patrick offered to set up the futon mats with our sleeping bags on top of them. Zoe poured herself another nightcap as I headed for my much-needed elephant shower.
I had to admit, it wasn’t perfect, but the hot water felt amazing, and lulled me into a warm cocoon of relaxation. By the time I climbed into my sleeping bag a while later, it was nearly three AM and I was so tired that I didn’t even have the energy to feel nervous that Patrick lay just a few feet away. I could barely even figure out how to unzip my bag, never mind contemplate seduction.
My head had barely hit the pillow when my eyes drifted shut and the darkness drew me under.
Chapter 14
The burning was deep. So hot, it almost felt cold...at first. Then, it was pure agony.
"Burn, witch, burn!"
I barely registered the chant of the raging mob that had gathered to watch the show, though. The skin on the bottom of my feet had started to sizzle, bubble and pop.
A primal scream tore from my throat as I tried in vain to escape my shackles, to no avail.
"Let the heretics burn for their crimes!"
The flames licked at my ankles as I tried to think past the pain to find my magic—that tiny, glowing ember within me—and bring it to life, but a second scream broke my concentration.
I looked up to see a second woman tied to a post just yards away, kicking...snarling, scratching to get away, with everything she had. Beaten and bruised, she was no match for the men locking her in place, dangling her above a pile of dried brush, kindling and logs.
"Another! Another!" the crowd chanted.
"No!" I howled, over and over until my throat was raw. Just as one of her captors lifted a torch to set her pyre aflame, I tried one last time. A deep dive for my magic through the terror and pain, grabbing onto and holding ti
ght.
"No!" I shouted one last time. The flames that had engulfed my legs died, even as the nearby torch flickered and went out, in a puff of smoke.
The shouts of bloodthirsty glee and the catcalls went silent as a fearful murmur rolled through the crowd.
There was no time to waste. I sucked in a breath, ready to send out another wave that would hopefully free us.
"Not so fast, little witch."
The voice sent pure dread running through me and I turned to see who had spoken.
I would recognize that scruffy beard and those cold eyes anywhere. But far scarier than his face was the necklace around his throat. A gold chain with a small crystal amulet dangling from it. Such a pretty, elegant thing.
Who'd have known by looking at that, it was an instrument of unimaginable torture?
Just the thought of it had me frozen in terror for a moment. And a moment was all it took.
“Gotcha,” he whispered, closing his grubby fist around the amulet and squeezing.
This time, when I started screaming, I didn’t stop.
“Cricket? Damn it, Cricket, wake up.”
I gasped and bolted upright, frantically straining to see.
"Where am I?"
"Shh, it's okay," a low masculine voice murmured. "You're in the bakery with me."
I sucked in a shuddering breath and tried to slow the pitiful pounding of my heart as the vague shadow of a man's face came into view in the dark room.
Patrick.
Not at all in the clutches of the prison guard who had oh-so-casually tortured me.
God, it had felt so real.
My eyes stung with unshed tears and I bent my legs at the knees and pressed my forehead against them.
Patrick's big, warm hand moved in soothing circles on my back, but he stayed silent. The only sound in the room was that of Mee-maw snoring in the far corner.
Maybe it was hearing the bastard's voice that had set off the horrible nightmares. Maybe it had been reconnecting with my ancestors and imagining what they'd suffered. Maybe it was a little of both. Whatever the case, I was left feeling raw and broken.
"Want to talk about it?"
I shook my head but didn't lift it.
"Was it about the necklace guy?"
I nodded.
"He'll pay for what he did to you, Cricket. So will my father. I won't rest until I see that happen. And, honestly, I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for my part in putting you in that situation." I already knew how much he regretted his actions. Still, it was nice to hear the words again, and the warm, smooth baritone was comforting.
"I don't blame you. Not anymore, at least," I said softly as I lifted my head and faced him in the dim light. "I was mad, at first. Like, really, really mad. Now, I feel like I've seen enough of your character to believe that you must've had your reasons."
The silence stretched between us for long enough that I started to wonder if he'd even heard me.
"I thought so. But now I'm not so sure." I could sense the tension in his body, pressed against my side as he continued. "Cricket...My mother is a witch."
It took a second to process what he'd said, but once I did, my mouth swung open in shock.
"Are you kidding me? Why would your father be so..."
The words died on my lips as my brain shot back to the day we'd met, just a few short weeks ago, despite it feeling like years. I'd complimented him at the bar over drinks...told him his mama must've raised him right, and he'd said--
"Wait. She is a witch, or was one? You told me your mother was dead."
"That was part of the cover I was given by the Organization, along with the backstory about my sister living in the U.S.," he admitted with a wince. "I’m an only child.”
“But I looked it up online when I started getting suspicious of you…” I trailed off as he shook his head, eyes full of apology.
“The Organization ensures that our covers are able to withstand pretty heavy scrutiny. I’m sorry, Cricket.”
I searched for some outrage, but I’d known that his persona was a lie before I’d chosen to trust him again. The semantics at this point didn’t really matter. “What’s done is done. I want to hear about your Mom, Patrick. What happened to her?” I asked, and gestured for him to keep talking.
He looked away and nodded. “Great question. The story I'd been told my whole life was that my mother left us. That the mom I knew—the one who had come to all my ball games, bandaged my knees when I skinned them, used to play hide and seek with me—found out she had magic on her forty-fifth birthday and left because the magic and her evil, mind-twisted coven had convinced her that they mattered more than our family. I believed him because things had been strange at home for months. She was a chronic mix of exhausted and elated as she tried to figure out how to tap into her powers. Suddenly, it was all she had time for anymore. A few months later, I came home from school and she was gone. Clothes, suitcases and all. I had no reason to doubt my father's version of things until recently. Hell, she'd even left me a keepsake and a letter letting me know she'd reconnected with her coven and needed to explore her powers before she could come home. That was thirty-three years ago. I was ten."
My gut churned at the bitter sadness in his voice and I laced my fingers with his, giving them a squeeze as he continued.
"As days turned into months, and then years, I just accepted my father's view of things as the truth. He got involved with the Organization after a while. At first, I thought it was so he could find her. Convince her to come back. But as I got older, I realized he was harboring an impotent sort of fury that he aimed at magic in general. He viewed it as the root of so much evil and grief. For years, he didn't involve me, but after I graduated college, he asked me to join. I was missing her so much, then. I still felt so lost in the world without her, and would've given anything to see her again. Show her the man I'd become. See if she was proud of me."
Tears flowed freely down my face now as he laid his soul bare.
"I told my father I would join him to help rid the world of magic, but at the time, all I wanted was their resources to help me find my mom. In the twenty years since, the Organization has located twelve covens around the world, but none of them was my mother's. Up until we found you guys and they called in all hands on deck, I was part-time only, mainly involved in logistics. Getting teams to various locations, ensuring funds and passports were in order, smoothing over red tape...back end stuff. The rest of the time, I was searching the globe for my mother. Now, I can't help but feel sick at the thought of what would happen if I’d found her. Would he have done the same to her as he's done to you? Did she leave because she didn’t love me enough to stay, like my father said, or because she knew if she stayed, she and her coven would've been slaughtered like cattle by the men my father now calls brothers in arms."
I couldn't help but imagine Patrick as a young boy—skinned knees, dark curls, wounded eyes, waiting by the door for his mother to come back—and it was killing me.
"The worst part of it? Is that those twelve other covens are almost certainly gone now. My father and his men murdered them, and stole their very essence. Those lines snuffed out. Those witches leaving behind sons and daughters, too. No more. Not my mother's coven, and not yours. We have to stop him, Cricket. Whatever it takes, we have to stop him."
I pressed my forehead against his shoulder and felt a hot tear plop on my cheek, mixing with my own.
"We will, Patrick. I promise."
I had no business making a promise like that. Hell, there was a fifty-fifty shot I'd be dead before the week was over. But until then, I was casting my lot with Patrick and my coven.
And we were going to find a way to win this war, or die trying.
Chapter 15
“Something wrong, Zoe?” Mee-maw asked from her place at the head of the table. We were all assembled in the back room for a later breakfast of black coffee, French toast, maple syrup, and fresh strawberries. Not a bad way to start the da
y, even if we were on the run from people who wanted us dead.
Zoe, who had been staring into her coffee mug as if in a trance, aimlessly stirring it with one finger, dragged her gaze up to my grandmother and stared at her for a long moment. “Not really,” she replied.
“Those bags under your eyes tell a different story,” Mee-maw retorted as she glanced down at the compass in her hand for the millionth time, before turning her attention back to Zoe. “You mustn’t have slept a wink. They’re about the size of Alaska!”
“Gee, thanks,” Zoe muttered. “I’m so glad I have you here to point that out for me, Mee-maw. It’s almost enough to make me try for another batch of cinnamon buns.”
“Hey, you’re not the only one,” Mee-maw replied defensively, holding up her hands. “My lower back has been killing me, and I don’t even have a big macho man to massage the pain away.” She gave Patrick a pointed glance, one of her eyebrows cocking up just a little. “Not that I’d be complaining if I did,” she added.
“Mee-maw!” I exclaimed, feeling my cheeks heating up as I took a sip from my own coffee cup.
“I’m just saying--”
“You know what, new subject,” Zoe interrupted, straightening up in her chair. “We need to figure out what to do about your item, Mee-maw.”
As I studied my cousin, I couldn’t help but note that our grandmother was right. Zoe was looking even rougher than the rest of us, and something told me she hadn’t slept much.
I shot a glance to Patrick, and squirmed as I caught him staring at me.
Last night had been...interesting. I wasn’t about to pretend it wasn’t a little weird waking up next to the guy, especially after the intimate talk we’d had. I wasn’t used to sharing so much with someone I’d known for such a short time, but nothing about our situation was normal right now.
Besides, there was something about him that I couldn’t put my finger on, something that set me at ease. I felt it from that first drink we’d had together, but last night’s conversation had just driven it home. And now I felt like I understood him better, trusted him even more. Who knew? Maybe, when this was all over, if we lived to tell the tale…
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