by T. M. Cromer
“No. You’re not mistaken. I don’t want to be here.”
He hoped his standard impassive mask hid the stabbing pain Aurora’s words caused. “There you have it. You’ll be healthy and free to leave. And me…” He paused and smiled tightly. “…I’ll be free to move on with the remainder of my life.” What he didn’t say was that the remainder of his days would be bleak. A dismal black hole, sucking up his joy as it had leading up to the day she woke. Neither did he say that if she left, he’d pray for those days to be short.
Jewel hard, Aurora’s eyes burned with her displeasure and dislike.
Alastair turned away, unable to stand another moment of her accusatory, hate-filled stare. Perhaps one day he could come to terms with their lost love, but today wasn’t that day.
“If you plan to join us for dinner, Aurora, you’ll need something a tad more formal than that godawful nightgown.”
“Alastair!” Summer cried in outrage.
The desire to strike out like a wounded animal overwhelmed him. But he didn’t dare—not with Summer. She was the one person the least deserving of his rage. He sketched a half-bow in her direction. “My apologies.”
“I don’t need your latest bed bunny sticking up for me, Alastair,” Aurora stated. Her chin lifted.
“Bed bunny!” Summer’s jaw dropped in her shock. “I’m not… he’s… we’ve… oh, hell no!” Her violent sneeze was followed by the arrival of a dozen or more mice.
“Well, if the sneeze wasn’t a dead giveaway, I don’t know what was.” Neither of the women paid him any mind. His droll wit was lost as mother and daughter stared at each other in horror.
“Summer?” Aurora’s voice cracked with emotion.
Summer merely nodded, afraid of her reception.
“Why are you posing as a nurse?”
His daughter shot him a helpless look.
“It’s all right, child. You can blame it on me.” To Aurora, he said, “She didn’t want to lie. I forced her into this deception after you told me you didn’t want to see your children.” His tone came across as harsh and disdainful, but Alastair was damned if he could be nice at this point. He’d had enough of her moodiness to last a lifetime.
The hurt on his beloved’s face cut deep. “You decided to trick me?”
“Yes, Rorie. Tricking you is what I live for.” He wanted to close his eyes and hang his head to hide from the accusation in her expression. When did this damned torture end? Tapping into his inner steel, he said, “If you find spending time with me abhorrent, I understand. But Summer has done nothing to deserve your unpleasantness. You’ll be civil to her in my home.”
* * *
Aurora shivered at the coldness in Alastair’s tone. He’d only ever spoken to her thus one time before: when he returned home after the witches’ war and found her married to his brother. She and Preston had been led to believe he died.
The memory caused a sharp pang in the region where her heart used to be. She suspected it was remembered pain because surely she had nothing left within her after all this time.
Alastair’s use of the name “Rorie” had to have been a slip of the tongue. She’d asked him to stop calling her that after she woke. She no longer cared for his nicknames and endearments; they reminded her of better times, of things that were long gone.
“Of course I’ll be civil. She’s my daughter.”
His blue eyes, so dark now as to be black, stared at her for a long moment before he gave her a brisk nod and turned away. The sight of his indifferent back infuriated her. Who the hell did he think he was? She’d lost twenty years because of his stupid war with the Désorcelers; that damned group devoted itself to wiping out the existence of witches and warlocks. She warranted more than his coldness. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me, Alastair Thorne! I deserve more respect than that. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be standing here today.”
His back snapped poker straight, and the angry wave of emotion rolling off his shoulders smacked every occupant of the room. When Alastair turned his rage-filled eyes on her, Aurora nearly begged his forgiveness. Nothing was scarier than the man in front of her in a full fury. He stormed to where she sat in her chair and hauled her to her feet. One strong arm braced her spine as the fingers of his opposing hand gripped her jaw. Although he was careful to cause her no pain, she found it impossible to pull away.
“Do you know what I wish, Aurora?” He asked hoarsely, never pausing for her response. “I wish you had let that bullet hit its target that day. Then you could’ve gone about your happy little life with your husband and your children, and I would’ve been put out of my stinking misery.”
He loosened his grip on her face to snap his fingers.
Aurora experienced the warming sensation of a teleport. She didn’t have time to worry if he intended to drop her into the deepest, darkest part of the ocean; she was suddenly in the living room of Thorne Manor.
Alastair’s blazing eyes never left her face. For her, it was impossible to look away.
Without comment, he deposited her on a nineteenth-century sofa. As he reached to straighten her gown, she knocked his hand away. She imagined she saw a flash of sadness before he smoothed his expression to a chilly, impassive mask once again.
“Goodbye, Aurora. Have a nice life.”
Summer arrived mere seconds after her father’s departure. Aurora had no time to school her features before her daughter witnessed her stark desolation.
“Oh, Mama,” Summer whispered.
The sobs began from the darkest depths of Aurora’s tattered soul. Once started, they wouldn’t stop. Loving arms cradled her as she released her grief.
“Please don’t cry. It’s going to be all right.”
But it wasn’t. Nothing would ever be the same in Aurora’s world. She’d missed out on twenty years of her children’s lives. The man she’d taken a bullet for didn’t want her around, and her magic was on the fritz. In addition, a huge part of her maintained this strange detached air. It was as if she were two people bearing witness to the same scene.
“Why did he bring me back?” she asked. “I was ready to move on. To be free of this world.”
She felt the soft arms around her loosen.
“What are you saying? You don’t want to be here with us?”
The disbelief in Summer’s voice wasn’t unexpected. Aurora should’ve held her tongue. How could she explain the Otherworld to one who had never been? The sheer beauty, the peace of the place, made this plane of existence pale in comparison.
“Do you have any idea what your children went through to revive you?” Anger radiated off Summer and lashed at Aurora. “Tums almost died. Winnie’s fiancé was almost buried alive. The horrors heaped on Spring still give me nightmares. And Holly…” Her daughter clamped her lips together. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter to you anyway.”
Each word contained a barb that hit Aurora dead center, causing unmitigated pain. She’d had no idea how much she could hurt until she returned to this realm of existence. For years she languished away in a state of semi-death, never really knowing what her daughters were suffering through other than brief glimpses through the magical sphere the Goddess of the Otherworld had provided.
She grabbed Summer’s wrist as she moved to leave. “I don’t—didn’t—know. I’m sorry for my selfishness, baby girl.” Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears.
Sorrow filled Summer’s bright eyes, dulling them to a darker shade. “We missed you so much. We did whatever it took to bring you back. I’m sorry you don’t wish to remain.”
“It isn’t that. I…” How did Aurora explain the disconnect? “I never expected to come back. For all intents and purposes, I was dead. With death comes a release. You let go of all you once were. I had moved on, Summer. I was beyond all human worries and emotions.”
She tugged, and her daughter sat.
“I saw Autumn when she was there. When she returned, did she feel this way? This displacement?” Aurora sea
rched Summer’s face, looking for answers and maybe a little compassion. “It’s as if I’m not me. Or at least not the me I was before. The life in me ebbs and flows. One moment I feel nothing but coldness and disinterest. The next it’s as if every emotion slams into me at once.” She grimaced when she saw her daughter struggle to understand. “Alastair revived my cells. But coming back to myself will take a little longer. Please, be patient with me.”
A smidgeon of the hurt in her daughter’s eyes eased. “I can do that.”
“Thank you.”
She would’ve said more, but the man who entered the room stole her wits.
Preston Thorne.
Other than the sheer shock on his face at finding her on his sofa, he hadn’t changed much. He was still as handsome, as brawny. Not even a sliver of silver touched his thick, rumpled auburn hair. He didn’t look a day over thirty, but she knew he had to be into his early seventies by now.
“Aurora,” he breathed. “I knew you were finally awake but…”
“Hello, Preston,” she greeted her husband with a tentative half-smile.
“You look well.”
Her brows practically rose to her hairline, and she scoffed her disbelief.
A sheepish grin touched Preston’s face. “Okay, you look well for having been in a magical coma for twenty years. Is that better?”
“Some.”
On shaky legs, she rose and allowed herself to be enfolded in his tender embrace. Only the slightest hint of remembered love came back to roost in her heart. This, too, pained her. To be unable to drum up the merest smidgeon of feelings for a dear friend disturbed her even more.
“Why are you here?” he asked as he aided her to sit up. He must’ve registered the disgust on her face because he reworded his question. “I find it difficult to believe Alastair would kick you out after he did everything in his power to revive you. Did you leave him?”
The solicitous way in which Preston spoke pricked her conscience. If Aurora deserved anyone’s contempt, it was his. And yet, he was kind. “Alastair and I had a parting of the ways today. It seems he isn’t interested in caring for an invalid.” Her tone was bitter and haughty, but she couldn’t hide her pain at Alastair’s rejection.
“I find that difficult to believe, Rorie.”
His use of Alastair’s pet name for her burned like salt in her newly lacerated heart. But then, the nickname had originated when they were all young and on good terms. There was no reason for Preston not to use it.
“They had a bit of a misunderstanding,” Summer explained as she took her turn to hug him. “But she’d like to stay here a while. I can fix up a room.”
Preston nodded and met Aurora’s gaze. “Of course. The girls will love to have you around.” He ran a shaky hand over Summer’s blonde head. “You’ll see to your mother, child?”
“Of course.”
“You may have the master bedroom, Rorie. I’ll take Autumn’s old room.”
“She doesn’t live here?” Aurora asked. “I thought…”
“She married Keaton Carlyle back in the fall. She lives with him and their daughter, Chloe.”
“Chloe. I remember her from the Otherworld, I think. She looked a lot like Autumn when she was a child.”
“It would make sense if you do. She was on the brink of death last year. Zhu Lin’s poison,” Preston informed her.
Zhu Lin. It seemed she’d never escape the name or the devastation he was constantly inflicting on her family.
“I’ll be fine at Fennell Castle. I’m sure Jace won’t mind.” The uncomfortable looks on their faces caused her heart to beat faster. “What’s happened? What have I missed?”
Preston sat beside her and clasped her hand. “Jace disappeared around the time of the war. No one has seen him in years. Even the Witches’ Council lost track of him.”
“My brother? He’s gone?” Cold shock washed over her, and Aurora found it difficult to wrap her head around the fact that her last remaining sibling had disappeared. The war with the Désorcelers had taken too much. “And Fennell Castle? Who maintains it?”
“It burned to the ground around the same time Jace went missing,” Preston informed her in a gruff voice. The deep emotion darkened his amber irises to a muddy brown. “We believe he may have been lost to the fire.”
“No body was found?” she asked numbly. “Could he have escaped the blaze?”
“I don’t know.” Preston shook his head. “If he did, he doesn’t want to be found.”
“Did no one think to scry?” Desperate to know, she rose shakily to her feet.
Summer steadied her with a hand. “Where are you going, Mama?”
“To the attic. I’m assuming that’s still where you keep the grimoire and scrying mirror.”
“Rorie.” Preston’s warning tone rankled.
“I can’t handle one more disappointment right now, Preston. I need to find my brother.”
“Okay.” He stood and scooped her into his thick, muscular arms. Within seconds, they’d relocated to the attic where he gently set her on a nearby chair.
She cast a cursory look around. Not much had changed. At its highest point, the ceiling rose fifteen feet. Crossbeams supported the wooden rafters and allowed the perfect perch for the old raven that hung about. Despite the dark wood, the room appeared big and bright. The furniture remained free of dust and was more comfortable than she remembered. Years ago, she’d sat on this very chaise while her young daughters played on the red oriental rug at her feet. The older girls would practice their witchcraft while Aurora sketched. Belatedly, she wondered what ever happened to her artwork.
“Where do we start?” Summer asked as she joined them.
Preston thumbed through the leather-bound grimoire in front of him. “In the past.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s a spell that will allow us to scry and see what has gone on before, but it’s very specific to location. Once I find it, we’ll go to Fennell Castle and cast a circle. With any luck, it will show us what happened leading up to the fire.”
“Why have you never done this before?” Aurora demanded. Her brother and Preston had been friends once. She couldn’t conceive of their bond being broken.
“Because I figured if Jace disappeared on purpose, he didn’t want to be found.”
“And now?” Summer wanted to know.
“He should know Aurora has returned to us… uh, home.” Preston never looked up from perusing the spell book. His slip of the tongue told Aurora a lot about his feelings. After all she’d done to break trust with him, he still cared.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered tearfully.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Rorie,” he returned. His voice was deep and emotion-packed. “You loved my brother. We both thought he was dead. When we discovered he wasn’t, it was only natural that you’d want to return to him.” He cleared his throat. “Now, let’s find your brother.”
3
Together with the help of Preston and Summer, Aurora teleported to the ruins of her family home in Northern England. The sight stabbed her through the heart. Fennell Castle had been in existence for nearly a millennium. Now, the blackened stone walls, half crumbled and ruined, stood silhouetted in the shimmering moonlight as a reminder that she was the last true Fennell. The distress from the sight was more than she could bear, and she dropped to her knees on the grassy landscape.
Preston, ever the supportive husband, squatted beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you.”
“You did. You said it was a shell. I just didn’t think beyond finding Jace.”
“We can do this when you’re stronger, Mama.”
Aurora gave an emphatic shake of her head. “No. I need to find my brother. I need to see what happened here.”
“Let us begin.” Preston rose and helped her to her feet. “We’ll start where the blaze first ignited.”
They picked their way through the entrance
hall and moved to the study. Once they stood where Preston had determined the fire started, Aurora experienced misgivings. The wind howled through the gaping window openings as if to warn her away. A frisson of unease chased up her spine, and she shivered against the cold. Irritation clouded her mind. If she were strong enough, she’d have been able to warm her cells. As it was, all she could do was quake against the freezing evening air.
“I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t realize.” Preston rubbed two fingers together and touched her shoulder. Warmth flooded her bones. Next, he conjured a floor-length coat that seemed to maintain a certain temperature all on its own.
“Thank you, Preston.” Again, she marveled at his kindness. Had the situation been reversed, had she adored him beyond reason and he left her for his first love, she wouldn’t have been as understanding.
Summer remained silent, and Aurora wondered what she was thinking. Did she resent a mother who had run off with another man? In the intervening years, her daughter had found out the truth about her father, that much was obvious. But how could Summer not begrudge her the things she’d done to destroy their family unit?
Aurora shoved aside the unasked and unanswered questions. First, she needed to find out where her brother had gotten off to. Jace wasn’t dead, of that, she was fairly certain. She couldn’t remember encountering him in the two decades she resided in the Otherworld.
“I’m not sure how much help I can be in this ceremony,” she said.
“You’ve been in stasis a lot of years, Rorie. It will take time for you to regain what you’ve lost.”
Yes, she’d lost a lot. Some would dare say too much. She cleared her throat. “May we begin?”
“Of course.” He faced Summer and stretched out a hand. “Sunshine, you stand here.” Summer obligingly moved to the spot he’d indicated. “Rorie, here.” Once Aurora was situated, Preston moved to complete the circle. With a simple sweep of his arm, he created a ring of candles. A swirl of his finger lit them.