Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four

by RAE STAPLETON

  “That’s what worries me. What if she meant you? What if Alana kills you with magic? She could try a spell and it could backfire. I couldn’t live without you or her.”

  “So, that’s why ye freaked out when ye thought she stole the book.”

  “I was afraid. I know this sounds ridiculous,” I said, and hoped I sounded equally sane. “I’ve started to dream again like I used to when—you know—when your brother was alive and stalking me.”

  “Ye’re sayin’ we need protection from our own lass?”

  “Cullen, I don’t know how to say this so I’m just gonna blurt it out. She might not be yours.”

  Cullen slammed his fist down and his mug was knocked from the table. Coffee and porcelain bounced off the tiles.

  “Cullen! Calm down. It’s not what you think. I didn’t cheat on you. Sandra Brun was the one who told me there was a chance that you were not the father.”

  “Well how in the hell am I not her father if ye weren’t sleepin’ with anyone else? Immaculate conception was it?”

  “No.” I stood. “She asked if I was alone with Liam at any time.” Tears were openly cascading down my face.

  Startled, he put his thumb under my chin and gently turned my face toward him. “Aeval—did he rape ye?”

  “No.”

  He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. My heart squeezed in my chest. I bit my lip as I thought about it. “I mean, not that I know of—that’s why I didn’t think Alana would turn out to be bad. That’s why I didn’t believe it and I didn’t tell you. But Sandra Brun…she was right before, about the past—about my time travel —and I should have listened. We should have made the decision together.”

  “Aeval, ye would know if Liam had done that—wouldn’t ye?”

  “I thought so…yes…but Cullen…he drugged me…I was unconscious...” I lowered my eyes, stunned by the pleading in my voice. “Please don’t be angry with me.”

  “Why would I be angry with ye for that?”

  He was silent and I knew he was most likely beating himself up for not protecting me, just as he’d done at the time.

  I stood and walked to him, wrapping my arms around his head and pulling him into my chest. Suddenly, he pulled me down into his lap. I could smell the spicy scent of his after shave and feel the heat radiating from his body.

  I flattened my palm on his chest. Beneath his thin shirt, I could feel hard muscle and the steady beat of his heart. Before I knew what was happening, my eyes were drifting shut and his lips were brushing against mine. Tenderly at first, then pressing harder, until at last we broke apart.

  I wanted to reassure him but I didn’t know what to say. I decided to change the subject.

  “Tell me about Móraí’s—how was your visit with Alana? You were gone much longer than a couple of hours.”

  “I wasn’t. Ye were out cold when I returned so I did some work. Móraí’s place was interesting. I felt like I was visiting a shrine to Liam. Have ye noticed all the photos she keeps of him?”

  “No, but I really haven’t been inside, seeing as I was almost murdered next door. It’s not really that strange, though; they were close and I’m sure it’s hard for her to wrap her head around who he really was and that he’s dead.”

  “Aye, to the raven her own chick is white.” He shifted uncomfortably so I stood and refilled our coffee cups. “I just find it odd,” he went on, “Or maybe it’s her I find odd—how she chooses to love. Ye know, it never seemed like she cared for me. She always loved my brother more, but then again maybe that’s because Lucille was my mother and she never liked her. “ He hesitated. “And it just seems like she has a strange attachment to Alana—the way she did to Liam.”

  I suddenly wondered if Móraí sensed that Alana was Liam’s child. Did she know something we didn’t? I shook my head. I couldn’t share these thoughts with Cullen although it seemed like he was having the same internal battle.

  “I just worry about Alana, that’s all,” he whispered.

  I stared at him. “You think Móraí had something to do with Liam being crazy?”

  “No, that’s ridiculous. He inherited those genetics from his own mam but…”

  “He did spend a lot of time with her.” I finished his sentence.

  He nodded as if saddened to admit the idea.

  “So ye want me to go to talk to Alana today and see if she’ll come home.”

  “That would be best. There is one other thing I noticed last night that I never clued into before—or maybe it’s new,” Cullen said.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Móraí is a wiccan.”

  As if that wasn’t enough of a shock, our home phone rang very loudly. Unnerved, I jumped to answer it and almost spilled my own coffee.

  “Hey, Les …Oh no is she all right? An ambulance…I’ll be right there.”

  FOURTEEN

  Hunedoara, Romania, 1494

  The cottage grew quiet. Sofia leaned closer, trying to get a better view through the crack in the door. Her heart thumped in her chest as Vilhem thumped his hand down on the table.

  “Did you hear me, Alexandra? Return to your mother’s bedside. Elena and I will consider following as soon as she’s able.”

  “Of course you choose to travel with your whore—or should I call her a witch? That is, after all, what she is: a witch.” She squared her shoulders and slowed her words, “Are you practicing the black arts as well, husband, or are you simply under her spell?”

  “Go now, woman!” Vilhem ordered.

  “That’s why our baby died —because you chose to consort with a witch.” She turned to Elena. “Admit it. Admit you are an evil witch!” She waved a hand at the drying herbs that hung upside down in bunches, and at the jars filled with powders, lining the roughly hewn wooden shelves.

  Slowly Elena nodded, her serene expression never changing. “Herbs and plants are not evil, Alexandra. Knowing how to use them can surely be no sin.”

  “I saw you last summer, naked, under the moon. You are a witch, don’t bother denying it.”

  Sofia’s eyebrows flew up in wonder. She had heard her mother chant and of course she used herbs to heal the sick, but dancing by moonlight… It had never occurred to her that her mother would do such things.

  “What would the town think, Vilhem? Maybe I shall have to enlighten them.”

  “Go back to the Castle, Alexandra, and speak to no one. There is much distress and turmoil in the village—like tinder set to close to the hearth; should you choose to be the spark, you might just go up in flames with the rest of us.”

  “Is that a threat, Vilhem? Am I to die in a fire now? Is this your whore’s curse? You know that’s why people in the village are threatening to revolt against the Castle. We are being punished for your sins.” Alexandra’s face flushed, and her eyes narrowed as she ran at Vilhem’s chest, beating him with her clenched fists. “How could you do this to us?”

  “Enough!” Elena shouted. “I am no witch and I didn’t ask for your husband. You forced me to come here and I made the best of it. “

  “You lie! You have sinful powers but I don’t care. Not if you help my mother. Now, gather what you need and come at once. If you didn’t make her sick, then prove it. Cure her, Elena. If you refuse....” Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t finish.

  “If I refuse, you’ll do what? Bear witness against me? See me stoned or burned? Last I checked, Vilhem was still your husband. So, maybe you should watch your wicked tongue lest you be put in a bridal.”

  Alexandra’s jaw hung open and, even though Elena would surely pay for that comment, Sofia enjoyed watching her jab back.

  “Next time you want my help, ask nicely and leave out the histrionics. I’ll do my best to heal your mother, but herbs or no, I may not be strong enough to help her.”

  Alexandra composed herself, smoothing down her hair. “If she dies, I vow to see you hang!” Alexandra lurched toward the plank door, tugging it open on its rawhide hinges.

  She left them, di
sappearing into a hurricane-like gust of wind.

  After she heard the door closed, Sofia emerged from her room, unable to stay quiet any longer. There were secrets here. Secrets Sofia had been ignorant to her entire life. Secrets she was determined to find the answers to.

  FIFTEEN

  Fridays at Mysterious Adventures in Ink were typically mellow but with the ambulance having just left, we seemed to have an influx of nosy visitors. The paramedics had come and gone with Deirdre Malloy, one of Alana’s schoolgirl chums that worked part-time for us. She’d been knocked unconscious when a vase fell from the top of the shelf she was restocking to land square on her head. Leslie, who had been frantic when I arrived, was now calm and chatting up a distinguished man with silver hair and glasses in the corner while I was busy handling the customers and getting the remaining broken pieces of the ceramic vase cleaned up.

  A knocking began at the window.

  “It’s that blasted bird again. Is it still lingering?” I asked.

  Leslie pulled away from her conversation and walked toward me. “Actually it only seems to come around when you do.”

  “Great,” I whispered as the raven rose up outside and began beating its wings against the front door. “I’ve made a new friend…Go on!” I turned to Leslie who was now eating, “Maybe it wants to share your bagel.”

  “Fat chance. I don’t share,” she said and licked cream cheese off her lip. “Be gone!” she screamed at the bird through the door.

  The Raven looked from me to her with one bright, shiny eye, then flew away. The cat took note and bounded off the front table, leaping to the side window in the direction it flew.

  “Who are you, Snow White?” I asked, giving Leslie a quizzical look.

  She grinned.

  “Must be nice—nobody listens to me. Watch this!” I stepped toward the cat who was now perched on the top of a very tall bookcase. “Come on down from there, Daphne.”

  She remained where she was.

  “Case and point,” I said shaking my head.

  “That’s not a fair assessment. Cats never obey.”

  “Oh yeah? You try.”

  She sat back down at the counter and popped the last bite of her bagel into her mouth.

  “Humor me,” I encouraged.

  “Fine,” Leslie grumbled and looked up at the cat. “Daphne, come!”

  Daphne, as predicted, jumped down and bounded to Leslie’s feet.

  I raised my eyebrows at her and she grinned.

  “What can I tell you? I have an authoritative voice and food.”

  The bell jingled and we watched as several familiar faces came into the shop. These were more of the local high school girls or rather second level education students as they were called here, but there were also neighborhood residents, university students as well as our fellow bookworms who made it a point to check out the new arrivals every week.

  I was lulled by the thud-flutter-flutter-thud of the books as they were picked up and scanned and then set back down along the shelves.

  Leslie drained her coffee and wordlessly got to her feet. She was giving me the signal that she was back on cash so I could go monitor the kids and, in some cases, clean up after them. It was our routine. I perused the floor and handled the customer service side while she handled cash, displays and unpacking inventory.

  “I need a candle, too,” said Hannah Walsh. Lagging behind her, as though she wished she were anywhere but here, was another student from Alana’s school, Somhairlín Ó Longargáin. Both I’d come to recognize as teenage girls on summer break: cut-off jean shorts, topped by tatty cropped T-shirts, cardigans, and worn purses slung over their slim shoulders.

  “Why?” Somhairlín asked.

  “Wise up, ye gack. Witches use candles to amplify their spells,” Hannah replied.

  They were perusing the new section, focusing on books based in dark magic.

  “I don’t know about this,” Somhairlín whined.

  “Ye’re absolutely lame. It’s just a simple confusion spell.”

  “Why would ye be after confusin’ someone? Seems cruel.”

  “Oh, relax, Somhairlín. Where’s Alana, anyway? She’ll know which one to get. Do ye see her?”

  “I don’t. Wait til she hears about Deirdre,” Somhairlín said.

  “Ye don’t think she already knows? I mean, in fairness, she did it,” Hannah replied.

  I had grown accustomed to the cattiness of these girls but this was surprising even to me.

  I swung around. “Girls!”

  Hannah swiveled around to face me. “Mrs. O’Kelley. What's the buzz?”

  I ignored the question, stepping closer to her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We were just, um, shoppin’. Just been to Penney’s finest, ye know. Is Alana ‘round?”

  “No.” I looked the two up and down. “What did you mean Alana did it?”

  Neither one responded.

  I used my most motherly tone, the one that always made Alana squirm. “Deirdre’s on her way to the hospital. This is a very serious matter. How will you feel if something terrible happens to her?”

  Somhairlín sighed unhappily and rolled her eyes, which completely irked me. I had to wonder if kids in general realized just how annoying the eye roll was or whether they were even aware they were doing it for that matter. Maybe it was simply auto-programmed into their rebellious teenager DNA.

  “We didn’t mean anythin’ like that, Mrs. O’Kelley.”

  I always pictured Cullen’s mother when I heard the Mrs. O’Kelley and some part of me felt like I was stealing it from her.

  “Call me Sophia.”

  “All right, Mrs—Sophia. We hardly want Deirdre to die.” Somhairlín and Hannah looked at one another then Somhairlín spoke again, “We just meant karma, ye know ‘cause of what Deirdre did to your one.”

  “What did Deirdre do to Alana?”

  “Ye know.” Hannah looked at her shoes. “Can't say to anyone, now...”

  “Spit it out, please.”

  “Deirdre snogged Alana’s mate,” Somhairlín finally admitted.

  “She's mad for the ride, that one,” Hannah added snapping her gum in a truly annoying fashion.

  “Her mate? You mean that boy she likes with the wavy hair. Blue eyes? He drives a dirtbike.”

  “Dirtbike Seamus—that’s him, and Deirdre absolutely knew Alana and Seamus had been giving one another the glad eye.”

  It sounded like a venereal disease and part of me wanted to worry but I was pretty sure the term meant they’d been crushing on each other.

  “So what does that have to do with Deirdre’s accident?”

  “Alana hexed Deirdre’s coconut sprinkled cupcake yesterday at the shop and now this happened. It just seems like, ye know, it worked and Alana paid her back.”

  Hannah practically growled at Somhairlín to shush up.

  “What do you mean hexed her cupcake? How could she…” I stopped speaking as my heart began to pitter patter.

  Neither one of them said anything.

  It couldn’t have been my book. She couldn’t have found the new hiding place.

  “I’m not real sure, Mrs. O’Kel—Sophia—maybe she was just makin’ it up to scare Deirdre but she said she comes from a long line of witches,” Somhairlín stuttered.

  “What?” I practically spit my coffee on the girls.

  Hannah elbowed Somhairlín and she let out a howl.

  Where in the hell had Alana heard that? And what was a hex.

  “Thank you, girls, for telling me, but no matter what Deirdre did with Alana’s boyfriend, she doesn’t deserve to be harmed and Alana, despite what she may have claimed, is not a witch. She had absolutely nothing to do with this freak accident. Please don’t repeat it anymore; I don’t want people getting the wrong idea.”

  The girls nodded and walked away, still snapping their gum and speaking in hushed tones.

  I waited until the store emptied out a little, then I
turned to Leslie. “Can you believe that?”

  She didn’t respond so I turned to look in the direction of her gaze and there was Sandra Brun browsing one of the shelves.

  “Sandra. You’re back.”

  She must have come in while I was at the back of the store dealing with the gossip girls.

  “Morning. Yes, I can’t resist a good book,” she said holding up the Witches Encyclopedia she’d seen the other day. “Hey, who’s this?” Sandra asked, bending over to pet the cat. Daphne reared up and scratched her on the cheek.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why she did that. She’s normally so gentle.”

  Leslie scooped Daphne up into her arms. “I think that bird has her all riled up. She’s been growling for the last ten minutes. I’ll just put her in the office so she can calm down.”

  “Cats normally love me, especially black cats,” Sandra said with a mock pout. “Oh well, you can’t please everyone, right? I came in to see if you and Cullen want to do dinner.”

  “Sure. How about tomorrow night at our place? I haven’t cooked in a while.”

  “Isn’t that too soon? You seem to have your hands full.”

  “It’s all right. The distraction will be good. Besides, Cullen leaves again for work on Monday so I’m not sure when else we’ll have the chance. Alana’s going to a concert with Leslie, though, so you won’t get to meet her.”

  Leslie returned and brushed a few stray black hairs off her burgundy-and-green paisley blouse.

  “A concert with a sixteen-year-old, aren’t you hip?” Sandra said, turning to Leslie.

  Leslie could actually still pass for sixteen. I recently had to talk her out of dying her hair grey and purple. She looked as youthful as the day I met her and her hipster-driven style only confirmed that. She gave me a look and went back to packing up books.

  “It’s a pretty cool band. Leslie and I both like their music, but unfortunately, I’m persona non-grata. Thankfully, Alana still sees Leslie as the cool aunt so she gets invited and I can rest easier knowing Alana’s being chaperoned.”

  “Very nice. I’m sure Alana would be bored by Remus and me anyway. Speaking of young wild things—I was here earlier when that poor girl, Deirdre, got beaned and I heard you talking to those girls.”