by T. M. Cromer
She nodded once and turned away. Alastair was left to mull over his own doubts and insecurities.
As the silence closed in on him, similar to the way the stone walls around him were currently doing, Aurora spoke. “It’s not as if I don’t. Feel the same, that is.”
His pulse thundered in his ears, and his mouth became too dry to speak. Was she saying what he thought she was? He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her to face him. When she would have ducked her head, he nudged her chin upward with his index finger.
It took forever and a day, but she finally met his questioning gaze. “I’m not interested in moving on, Alastair,” she said softly. “But I’m not ready to take up where we left off quite yet either.”
He lowered his head until his lips were within a hairsbreadth of hers. One last meeting of their eyes answered his unspoken question, and he settled a tender kiss on her before drawing away.
“I only ever wanted you to be happy, Aurora. If that’s with me, I’ll be ecstatic. If it’s not…” His mouth twisted in a grimace, but he gamely soldiered on. “If it’s not, then I’ll learn to live with your decision. Somehow.” Or not. He doubted he could stand the pain of her with another, but he didn’t utter the words. There was no sense laying that at her door. She had enough to deal with as it was. One heartbroken and surly warlock didn’t need to be added to her woes.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Again, she turned to lead the way through the maze of mortar and stone. Alastair was grateful she missed the sheen of tears in his eyes. He was a sentimental old fool these days. Forcing his mind from his love life, or lack thereof, he sent out magical feelers along their path. So far, nothing sinister lurked along the way. A large part of him was irritated, because right now, he’d delight in smashing his fists into an enemy’s face.
11
Aurora wasn’t blind to Alastair’s hurt or disappointment with her lack of emotional attachment. While he’d helped restore a small part of her soul, there were still gaps. Those holes wouldn’t allow her to commit to a relationship. Avoidance was her friend, and she shoved aside her concerns.
At the moment, she needed to discover why Jace had locked them into the tower, knowing full well she had knowledge of the hidden passages. Had he believed her to be another witch disguised as his sister? Was this a test? Did he think her memory was damaged after two decades in stasis? It made no sense.
She paused her descent on a landing two floors down from where they’d started. “We should be able to teleport from here. Any spell he cast on the room shouldn’t extend this far below the tower.”
As she watched, Alastair peered into the darkness below them. “Someone’s here,” he murmured. “I don’t feel any malice.”
Aurora spun around just as Jace’s face appeared from the shadows.
“I’d hoped you would remember.” He hugged her tightly to him. “I placed a ward on these passageways a long time ago. Only you and I know about their existence, and I plan to keep it a secret for conversations like these.”
“I don’t understand, Jace. Why would we need to sneak into these tunnels to speak?”
“Alastair, would you care to cloak us for added protection?”
Alastair spoke the words of his grandmother’s cloaking spell. If anyone was scrying, they would simply see an empty room. “What is going on, Jace?”
“Come into the antechamber one floor down. I’ll explain.”
They followed him to a wide-open fourteen-by-fourteen area. Aurora knew this space had been designed by their ancestors to keep the occupants of the castle hidden in days of old when enemies were at the gates. Magical artifacts lined floor-to-ceiling wooden shelves that were slightly darkened with age. Tapestries depicting a record of their family’s past graced the walls. In the center of the room, the most important item of all rested on a massive desk: the Fennell grimoire.
“In all the times I’ve been here, I never had a clue this existed,” Alastair said with a shake of his head. He strolled along the shelves, his hands tucked behind his back as if he was resisting the urge to touch the objects. Magic called to magic, and as powerful as he was, Alastair had to be champing at the bit to explore the wonders of each item.
“Pay attention, Thorne. I don’t have much time,” Jace snapped with a glare.
A coldness settled over Alastair’s already stern features.
It was obvious to one and all that bad blood existed between these two men. A ghost of emotion, similar to sadness, flitted about Aurora’s chest. Once, they had been friends. Now, these two scarcely tolerated each other, and only for her benefit.
“What do you need to tell us, Jace? What are you involved in?”
“After you were injured, I searched for a way to bring you back. None of my resources produced any means of reviving you.” Jace walked to the tapestry containing their most recent family history. A black-haired woman rested on a bed in one scene, and the next depicted the castle on fire. He waved his hands, and the threads turned a brilliant shade of gold. They began to weave a new pattern, adding to the length of the canvas.
Aurora and Alastair stood back and silently watched Jace as he relayed his tale.
“After about five years, I decided my only recourse was black magic. Since the Witches’ Council forbid anything of that nature, I sought out anyone with even a hint of that knowledge and power.” He faced them, the look in his eyes full of self-loathing. “I was desperate. You were my last living relative, Rorie.”
She rushed to his side and cupped his haggard face. “Oh, Jace! What did you do?”
“I used my position at the Council to steal what artifacts I could. Then, I went to work for the Désorcelers Society.”
A rumble filled the room, and the siblings whipped around to stare at an enraged Alastair.
“You sonofabitch!”
Another shockwave rippled the stone floor.
“Please, Alastair, you’ll kill us all.” Aurora didn’t dare mention the locusts that were probably descending on the area.
“Tell her,” he snapped. “Tell your sister what Zhu Lin and Victor Salinger did to her daughters. Tell her about Spring. You had to have known.”
“What happened to my daughter?” she asked hoarsely.
“You should never have put those girls in harm’s way,” Jace charged. “Whatever they went through was on you! You have no problem throwing women in the line of fire, do you, Alastair?”
“I needed the sisters to find the artifacts. The procurer of the object is the one who wields the power. The idea was that each witch would possess untold power in addition to the gifts they were born with. Working together, we could all bring Aurora back. I could never do it alone. In the hands of a single person, each object would counteract each other and destroy what I was hoping to achieve.”
“None of that is important right now. I need to know about Spring. What did you do, Jace?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He gave Zhu Lin the power to hurt us, Rorie,” Alastair said harshly. “Your brother is responsible for Spring falling into your enemy’s hands.” Never taking his eyes from Jace, he said, “Spring was sold to a drug lord in Colombia for his sadistic amusement.”
Pain, unlike any she’d ever known, had her bent double, gasping for breath. Her sweet, innocent daughter in the hands of a monster? Suffering Goddess knew what?
Both men rushed to hold her, but she threw up her hands, palms out, blasting them with the full force of her re-emerging power. Jace flew into the desk and cried out in pain. Alastair had probably anticipated her rage and braced himself for impact because he only grunted and slid a few feet.
“You are both to blame!” She screamed. Pointing at Alastair, she said, “You, for refusing to give up and putting my daughters in jeopardy on your ridiculous quest. And you…” She stormed to where Jace balanced against the desk, gripping its edge. “You should have known better. How could you turn to the very person who shot me? How could you betray my daughters,
your own blood, in such a horrific way?”
“Rorie—”
He reached for her again, but she knocked his hands away. “I’ll never forgive you, Jace. Never.”
She didn’t know where she was going, but she couldn’t be in a room with these two any longer. If she stayed, she’d obliterate them in her anguish and rage. Closing her eyes, she pictured the attic of Thorne Manor.
Aurora hugged a pillow to her chest and curled up on the old, red chaise in the corner of the attic. The struggle to keep her sobs at bay was lost, and she gave in to her need to grieve for the horrors that her children had faced. Until now, she’d shoved the unpleasantness to the back of her mind, never fully registering what Summer had told her upon Aurora’s return to the Thorne estate. But she could no longer ignore the truth.
“Oh, Spring!” Memories of a little tomboy sprite flooded her mind. The image of a three-year-old Spring’s joy when she made her first flower blossom brought a watery smile to Aurora’s face. Her youngest was the most curious of all her daughters, and Spring never stopped in her quest for knowledge.
“Mama?”
Aurora swiped at the tears on her cheeks and struggled for composure. It was as if she’d summoned her daughter by thinking of the past.
“Are you all right?” Spring asked tentatively.
“I will be.” Yes, if her child could endure the tortures of the past, then Aurora could mask the pain of discovery of what that child had suffered. “Come, sit by me. Tell me about your life. I’ve missed so much.”
The slight frown disappeared from between Spring’s perfectly arched brows, but the curious light never left. Aurora smiled at that familiar sight.
“Is that why you were crying?” Spring asked her.
“In part.”
“And the other part?”
She almost laughed in the face of her daughter’s questioning. Spring would discover answers one way or another. “The other part was because I learned a few terrible truths today. One about you.”
Spring pulled a face and hugged her. “It’s okay. I honestly don’t remember the physical pain or torment. When Isis restored my memories, she took away any emotional attachment to what the Old Spring suffered.”
“The Old Spring?”
“It’s how I see myself. Old Spring and New Spring.” She shrugged and offered up a half smile. “When I died—”
“Died?”
“I should start at the beginning, shouldn’t I?”
“Please do,” Aurora said faintly.
As Spring relayed the story of her capture and the subsequent torture leading to her death, Aurora maintained an outward calm. Inwardly, she wanted to murder both Jace and Alastair for their involvement.
“After Isis resurrected me, my memory was wiped clean. It wasn’t until months later that she restored the memories of my time in Colombia. But her gift was to allow me to maintain a detachment.”
“If I understand this correctly, you didn’t remember your siblings or father either?”
“No. I also didn’t remember Knox.” Spring shrugged. “It was useful. I was able to rediscover who I was on my own. To become an independent person, to establish likes and dislikes without any prejudices from the past. I think it was what Isis intended for me.”
“I wonder why I never encountered you in the Otherworld?”
“Apparently, I wasn’t gone long enough. Minutes here, really.”
Aurora still didn’t understand. Minutes in the human world could be days in the afterlife. Obviously, Isis had had a reason for keeping the two of them apart, but she’d be damned if she could figure out the Goddess’s reasoning.
“How are you physically?”
“Great. All evidence of the past is gone. It’s as if I was reborn.”
“A full-grown babe?” Aurora teased.
“Exactly that,” Spring laughed. “If it weren’t for Dad, I would be drooling on an adult-sized bib.”
“Hardly that,” a deep male voice contributed from the doorway.
Both women smiled at the tall blond man filling the opening. He was easily the most gorgeous man Aurora had ever encountered. His hair was on the long side, and his casual grace belied the coiled tension in his muscled form. His eyes were piercing and missed nothing. Intelligence shone in those azure eyes. Clearly with his coloring, he was a Carlyle.
“You must be Knox,” Aurora said, as she rose to her feet. “Come. I want to hug you for all you’ve done for my daughter.”
Knox laughed, and the adoring look he turned on Spring was pure sunshine in the darkening attic. “She’s a force to be reckoned with, Mrs. Thorne. I simply stand back and allow her to have her way.”
As he gathered Aurora close in his gentle embrace, he whispered, “I promise you, she’s suffered no ill effects. She’s whole and healthy.”
Once again, tears burned behind her lids as she tightened her arms around him. “Thank you,” she whispered back. “Now, how about we go down and bake some cinnamon rolls like we did when you were little, my darling girl?”
“I never say no to cinnamon rolls, Mama. As a matter of fact, Winnie’s downstairs now, rolling out the dough.”
“Brilliant. Let’s go add our skills to the mix, shall we?”
As Aurora worked side by side with her two daughters, Knox regaled her with stories of Spring’s teen years. From the flush on Spring’s cheeks, she found the retelling embarrassing.
“I thought you didn’t feel emotions from the past?” Aurora asked curiously.
“No, I’m just embarrassed for the poor girl who kept throwing herself at a thick-headed beast,” Spring laughed.
“Thick-headed beast?” Knox questioned in mock outrage. “I’ll give you a thick-headed beast.”
They all froze at the accidental entendre then burst into laughter at his obvious discomfort.
“On that note, I have horses to tend to,” he muttered.
The three women were still laughing long after he left.
“Poor Knox!” Winnie crowed. “Did you see his expression? I’ve never seen him so red-faced in my life.”
“You better make it up to him and his ‘thick-headed beast’ later,” added Aurora.
Both daughters squealed, and Spring doubled over with laughter.
“What? You don’t think I know about ‘thick-headed beasts’?”
Their hilarity sparked hers, and the three of them sat down to catch their breath as they wiped tears of mirth from their eyes.
Winnie reached across the table and gripped her hand. “Oh, Mama, I’m so glad you’re back.”
“Me, too.” And Aurora meant it as she lifted her daughter’s hand to place a kiss on her fingertips. It was a gesture she’d done often when Winnie was a small girl. “Next, I want to hear about this Zane Carlyle. Is he anything like his father?”
“You knew his father?”
“Tristan? Oh, yes. He was tall, dark, and delicious. The stuff of every woman’s fantasy.”
“Including yours?” Spring teased.
“I may have had one or two, but don’t tell—”
“Uncle Alastair!” Spring and Winnie chorused.
A tingle rippled along Aurora’s spine, but she hesitated to face the kitchen doorway. She wasn’t quite over his part in Spring’s trials.
“Hello, my lovelies. I can see you’re all hard at work. I’ll pop back by later to talk to your mother.”
“Join us,” Winnie offered. “I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”
Aurora refused to look around. Instead, she concentrated on sprinkling the cinnamon-sugar mixture onto the rolled dough.
As he moved farther into the room, she imagined she could feel the heat of his body at her back. “Do you want me to go, Aurora?” He asked for her ears alone.
“Stay or go. It’s of no concern to me what you do.” She didn’t bother to lower her voice. She’d not pretend things were fine between them when the truth was they were far from it.
For a long moment, no one spoke,
and the tension in the room weighed heavily on everyone.
“I’m not doing this again,” Alastair said. In a move that surprised them all, he spun Aurora to face him and cupped her face between his large palms. “I’m sick to death of misunderstandings. Hate me if you want, but your daughters were all on board with the plan to bring you back. They understood the risks but signed on anyway.”
She attempted to pull away, but he held fast. “I would give anything to have saved them the grief they suffered, but we all feel the end justified the means, Rorie.”
“I don’t,” she snapped, her rage boiling up. “They don’t justify anything to my mind. My children, Alastair! You risked my children!”
“They are all grown adults, Aurora!” he practically yelled. “Not children. Not any longer. They had the right to make up their minds one way or the other. They chose you. I chose you.”
“Well, I don’t choose you. Not any longer. I want you to leave and never come back.”
For a heartbeat or two, he stood in stunned disbelief. Eventually, he gave into her shove against his chest. Dull, pain-filled eyes stared from a pale face. His Adam’s apple bobbed in time with his audible swallow. Alastair gave one final nod and left.
Silence reigned in the small kitchen. Aurora imagined her daughters were shocked by her display of temper, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. “Let’s finish this batch,” she said with an attempt at a bright smile.
“You were exceedingly harsh, Rorie.”
Dropping all pretense, she turned her head to glare at Preston, not surprised to find him lurking in the entryway to the kitchen. “You could have stopped him.”
“Perhaps. But I couldn’t have stopped them.” He nodded to Spring and Winnie. “They have minds and wills of their own. They were all determined to help.”
“You should have tried!”
“He did, Mama.” Winnie circled the table and hugged her. “He did, but he’s one-hundred percent correct. We were all going to help come hell or high water.”