Books 1-3

by B. C. Burgess

“Do you need to leave so soon?”

  “The sooner I leave, the easier my objective will be. And I assure you, my objective is vital. If I could tell you about it, you’d agree, but you’ll just have to trust me.”

  “I do,” she whispered, “and I can handle the move, but you must want to spend more time with Layla before you go.”

  “I would spend eternity with my Layla Love if I had the option, but it would be selfish of me to stay longer than necessary. Will you promise to move as soon as you’re able?”

  Katherine wracked her brain for a long moment then nodded. “Yes. As long as I have the money to go, I can be gone within a couple of weeks.”

  “Thank you,” he replied. “You have no idea how much your sacrifice means to me. What surname will you take?”

  “Hmm . . . How about Callaway?”

  “Yes,” he approved, raising his eyebrows. “It’s perfect. I’ll have everything gathered by this evening. Then, once I leave, you’ll be Layla Love Callaway’s only family until fate deems otherwise.” He paused, nuzzling his daughter’s curls as he breathed deep. “Promise me one more thing, Katherine.”

  “Sure, Chris, anything.”

  “Love her more than anyone’s been loved in the history of time. Love her like her mom loved her, like I love her . . .” His throat tightened, strangling his request.

  “I promise,” Katherine whispered, wiping away a tear. “She deserves it all.”

  “Yes,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut, “she does.”

  Katherine spent the day running errands, while Aedan spent the day holding Layla, not once laying her down. He needed to use the bathroom, but willed his body to wait. He would let his bladder burst before sacrificing time with his daughter.

  When Layla wasn’t eating, Aedan would hold her out in front of him, memorizing her features as he softly spoke. Her eyes widened when he talked about his hopes and dreams for her; her lips puckered when he talked about her mother; and when he sang Rhosewen’s favorite lullaby, Layla’s eyelids grew heavy, closing the curtains on shiny emeralds.

  In reverent wonder, Aedan watched every bittersweet second, in awe of her purity and flawless beauty. His heart soared, riding high atop the wind that was the miracle in his arms. But as it soared, it bled, irreparable gashes splitting further each second he looked at her. He embraced the pain, knowing it wouldn’t ease until his heart stopped beating altogether. And he wouldn’t sacrifice these moments for anything in the world, let alone a temporary dose of relief.

  Determined to devote himself to Layla when she woke, Aedan spent her nap getting things ready for his departure. He called a local bank and a few government officials, using a clever combination of mind magic and charm to trick the system. Then he used one hand to magically prepare official documents for Katherine and Layla Callaway.

  It seemed time had been cursed to quicken, and Aedan sighed heavily and so sadly when the clocks struck nine. He wondered how he was managing to put one foot in front of the other, but then Rhosewen’s face appeared in his mind’s eye as he looked at Layla, and his dread warped into determination. The heartache, however, strengthened. He could only hope his anguish would work to his advantage once he found the Unforgivables.

  He entered the living room to find Katherine waiting for him, so he soberly led her to the coffee table. “I opened a bank account under your new name,” he said, passing over a folded piece of paper. “The funds will be available by tomorrow, and everything’s in order with the bank personnel, so there won’t be any red tape, paperwork or explanations to deal with.”

  Katherine unfolded the paper and straightened her glasses. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “That’s . . . that’s a lot of money.”

  “That’s your money,” he insisted. “Yours and Layla’s. I want you to use it for everything you guys need. A car and a house, and all the things Layla will need growing up. Neither of you should ever go without. And I want you to have fun, so don’t save all of it. Splurge once and while.”

  Katherine nodded her agreement, eyes wide and watery, and Aedan scanned her face and aura, making sure she was absorbing everything.

  “I’ve prepared the necessary documents,” he went on, retrieving an envelope from the table. “Birth certificates, social security cards, a driver’s license, and they’re valid with the government, so don’t hesitate to use them.”

  “How did you . . .” she mumbled, but then she shook her head. “Never mind.”

  She took the envelope and glanced over its contents, halting when she got to the birth certificate listing Katherine Anne Callaway as Layla Love Callaway’s only parent.

  “Here’s the picture of Sarah and I,” Aedan said, holding out the photograph. “It was taken on our wedding day.”

  Katherine slipped the birth certificate back into the envelope then took the photo. “Wow,” she whispered. “Sarah looks like a Greek goddess. You’re both so beautiful.”

  “Sarah made everything more beautiful than it was before,” Aedan agreed, staring longingly at the mere memory of his Rose.

  Katherine looked up, and Aedan cleared a lump from his throat. “Don’t show that picture to anyone,” he instructed. “It’s for Layla’s eyes only. If she chooses to search for Sarah’s parents, she should be very selective about who she shows it to. It could lead her to her grandparents, but it could also lead her to danger.”

  Stunned by the turn of events, Katherine merely nodded.

  “I know this is overwhelming,” Aedan sympathized, “but you’re handling everything great. I can’t imagine a more perfect person to set this on.”

  Katherine silently nodded again, and Aedan squeezed her shoulder. “Remember, if Layla wants to find Sarah’s parents, she’ll need to start near Portland, Oregon.”

  “I’ll remember,” Katherine assured. “Portland, Oregon, and she should check out the coffee at Cinnia’s Cannon Café in the coastal town of Cannon Beach.”

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “Cinnia’s may be the most useful tip I’ve given you. Furthermore, Cannon Beach is a safe area. Her odds of finding danger there are low.” He looked at Layla, and Layla looked at him. “I know it’s pitiful, but that’s the best I can do for her. Please take care of her in the meantime. It’s my sincerest hope that the two of you will share a life of happiness and love.”

  “Are you sure you have to leave, Chris?”

  “Yes. It’s what’s best for Layla.”

  Katherine sighed as she straightened her glasses with a shaky hand. “Well, if you can come back, or if you change your mind, I’m pretty sure we’ll be in Oklahoma. I’ve wanted to visit since I saw the musical, and it’s about as far from the coasts as you can get.”

  “Thank you for doing this, Katherine. I know it’s a sacrifice.”

  “No, Chris. The sacrifice is yours. I’d move a million times for Layla.”

  Aedan sadly nodded as he looked at his baby. “May I have a moment alone with her?”

  “Of course,” Katherine agreed. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  She left the room, and Aedan sat on the couch, holding Layla out in front of him. He closed his eyes, making sure he had every part of her memorized. From her corkscrew curls to her teeny toes, she was as perfect in his mind as she was in his arms.

  He raised his burning lids, fighting the tears misting his vision. “You’re so beautiful and special,” he whispered, lowering his face closer to hers. “And I’m so sorry I have to leave you, but it’s what’s best for you. Hopefully you’ll understand when it’s time to learn the truth.” He swallowed, trying to loosen his throat, but it didn’t work, and he nearly gagged as he continued. “I know you won’t remember this, and that’s okay. I just want you to hear it. At least once. Your mommy’s name was Rhosewen Keely Donnelly. I liked to call her my Rose. She was so beautiful, Layla, and she loved you so much. I wish things had been different. Then we could have stayed with you forever. That’s what we wanted, what we dreamed about from the moment we met, and it breaks my heart th
at we’re not getting it. But you’ll be safe with Katherine. She’s your mommy now, and she’ll take good care of you, because she loves you very much.” He softly kissed her button nose. “I have to leave, baby, but you’ll always be in my heart.” He kissed her wrinkled forehead. “Hopefully, someday, you’ll know who I was.” He kissed her rosy cheeks. “I’m Aedan Dagda Donnelly, your daddy, and I love you more than life itself.” He pulled her to his chest, freely weeping into soft spirals. “Be safe, Layla Love, and find us when you can.”

  The pain was horrendous, but the love was pure, and he cried into her curls for an hour before forcing himself to his feet.

  He sluggishly made his way to the kitchen, constantly kissing her petite palm. Then he held his breath as he passed her to Katherine. “Keep her safe,” he whispered.

  “I promise,” Katherine vowed, shedding salty rivers.

  “Thank you, Katherine. For everything. From beginning to end.”

  She solemnly nodded. “Goodbye, Chris.”

  Aedan looked at his daughter once more, slowly running a finger across her cherub cheek. Then he dropped his hand and turned away, reluctantly leaving her for the first and last time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aedan let the tears flow as he flew toward Duluth, Minnesota, and every salty drop reinforced his purpose.

  After spending thirteen hours along the western shores of Lake Superior, he found out Agro had gone to Maine, so he headed east.

  Two weeks and seven states—a few of them twice—and not once did he waver from his quest. He’d land, eat, sleep then search for the Unforgivables, trying to tap into Medea’s mind. He didn’t know if it would work since his powers had dwindled, but he kept trying. The attempt, whether successful or not, wouldn’t go unnoticed. If he got near her, she would know he was coming. He wanted her to know.

  The midnight sky twinkled as he flew over Colorado Springs, scanning the lands moistened by passing storms. When the city lights faded, he finally got a fuzzy read on Medea. He knew it was a trap. The Unforgivables were reeling him in. He readily took the bait.

  He couldn’t read Medea’s thoughts or see what sights her eyes beheld, but he sensed her presence. He was close.

  Several large, sandstone formations appeared in the distance, like arthritic fingers reaching for the starry sky. Aedan knew the area, having hiked its trails when he was fifteen. How fitting it would be to meet his end in the Garden of the Gods.

  He landed and looked around, finding Pikes Peak looming on the horizon, and the large and prominent North Gateway Rock dominating the forefront.

  Breathing slow and steady, he stripped down to his pants, twitching from head to toe as the brisk breeze contrasted with his boiling blood. Rhosewen’s and Layla’s faces flashed through his mind. Then he locked the gorgeous images away, determined to guard them from outside intrusion.

  He made his way to the renowned Balanced Rock—a huge chunk of sandstone precariously poised on its smaller end—and scanned its earthen platform. At first it appeared deserted, but he soon found what didn’t belong. Medea was crouching in the rock’s shadow.

  Temptation twitched Aedan’s fingers. One spell would bring the boulder crashing down. But Medea’s ruin wasn’t a priority. Besides, Aedan had no desire to destroy something so beautiful—not the witch, but the natural phenomenon she lurked beneath.

  Aedan couldn’t see the other Unforgivables, but sensed them there. He wasn’t afraid. After all the heartbreak he’d suffered, death would be sweet release. He filled his lungs with crisp oxygen, determined to stay levelheaded and strong for his two beautiful girls, but no amount of meditation would extinguish the fire in his veins.

  “Medea,” he simmered. “Why don’t you stand and let me get a better look at you?”

  She hesitated then straightened, revealing her aura as she slinked to the edge of the grainy platform.

  Aedan observed every move, pleased to see she looked like hell. Apparently life under Agro’s careful watch didn’t agree with her. Grotesquely hollow, her pallid face had a skeletal appearance, and her hooded, yellow eyes were bloodshot and lusterless. Haunted by a melancholy mixture of maroon, blue and gray, her stagnant aura revealed a lost soul, an expired spirit begging for release.

  “You look like shit,” he noted, and her top lip curled with a hiss.

  “You don’t look so hot yourself.”

  True, but Aedan didn’t care. “I can thank you for that.”

  A wicked grin stretched across Medea’s gaunt face. Then she feigned a sympathetic pout. “Ahh . . . Did something happen to your precious Rose?” The lovely name slithered through her teeth, desecrated by her disdain, sullied by her sickening spite.

  Aedan’s muscles rolled. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to wrap his hands around her scrawny throat and watch every ounce of life drain from her revolting body. Hate dislocated another piece of his shattered heart, but he wouldn’t mourn that piece. If ever there was righteous hatred, he held it.

  “She’s dead,” he confirmed, “but you already knew that.”

  “I figured,” Medea confessed, tapping her scarred cheek with a jagged fingernail. “That is why you’re here after all. Vengeance? Well you’re on a death mission. Did you really think you’d be able to kill me and live to see another day?”

  She looked around, and Aedan followed her gaze, finding thirty-eight crimson cloaks encircling him.

  “No,” he answered, unperturbed by their sudden appearance.

  “You don’t wish to kill me?” Medea scoffed.

  “Oh, I’d enjoy watching you die,” Aedan corrected, “and I’d love to do it myself, but I don’t expect to live.”

  Medea’s eyes narrowed, and Aedan focused on filtering his aura and blocking his mind.

  “In fact,” he went on, “you’ve ensured I have nothing to live for.”

  Terror twisted Medea’s ugly features as she opened her mouth to speak, but she screamed instead, falling to her knees and curling into a ball.

  Aedan knew the kind of torture she was experiencing, because he knew that agonizing expression well. Rhosewen wore it often throughout the last four months of her life, but she’d worn it with beauty and grace. Medea just looked wretched and strung out. Aedan intently watched, waiting for the pain to hit him as well, but it didn’t come.

  One of the Unforgivables lowered their hood and walked forward, and Aedan glanced over, unsurprised to find Agro’s orange eyes.

  “Aedan,” he greeted, waving a hand toward Medea, who went limp, her screams fading into sobs. “It’s a pity we always meet on such unfriendly terms.”

  “Are there any other kind with you?” Aedan countered.

  “Some would say no,” Agro confessed.

  “I’d agree with them,” Aedan scorned.

  Agro’s eyes flashed red, but his posture remained casual. “As I said, pity.” He looked at Medea then back. “Your wife is dead?”

  “Yes,” Aedan answered, jaw set.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I bet you are.”

  Agro scanned every inch of Aedan and the air around him, trying to find a hole in his persona. “Perhaps you think it was I who cursed your mate, but I assure you, I had no part in that one. I would have preferred to handle the situation myself, but that was Medea’s handiwork. I was led to believe she would merely make your mate’s hair fall out, or stain her teeth green, something inconvenient yet insignificant. I had no idea she’d come up with something so . . . creative. I’ve already disposed of the disloyal magicians who helped her work out the details.”

  Agro’s lack of involvement surprised Aedan, but he made a point not to show it. It was his word against Medea’s, and he had to play his part convincingly. Everything he had left on earth depended on it.

  He looked at Medea, genuine hate and anger burning his body and aura. “You.”

  She met his stare, head bobbing as tears streaked down her withered cheeks.

  “You once claimed to care abou
t me,” Aedan seethed, “yet you destroyed my life. You deserve a punishment far worse than death, because what I’ve lost was more precious than air, and it was you and you alone who stole it from me. Your soul is wretched, Medea. Your life means nothing. You’re merely a stain on an otherwise beautiful foundation.”

  Agro stepped closer. “Where’s your child, Aedan?”

  “What child?”

  “No!” Medea screeched. “He lies! I swear I did it right . . .” A bloodcurdling scream ripped from her throat as she once again curled into a ball.

  “Are you saying Rhosewen didn’t conceive?” Agro pressed.

  “My love was pregnant,” Aedan confirmed, “but breath was stolen from her before her third trimester, taking my baby’s beating heart with it.”

  “No,” Medea sobbed. “He’s lying . . . He has to be lying.”

  “Silence!” Agro barked, raising a hand, and Medea’s mouth slammed shut.

  Agro’s palm turned toward Aedan, who was ready for the icy feeling that gripped his bones. He’d endured so much pain in the past four months, his body merely jolted.

  Agro frowned. Then the ice gripped tighter, threatening to grind Aedan’s bones into frozen dust. He fell to his knees as a groan gurgled in his throat, but his body stayed upright and his eyes stayed open.

  Agro curiously tilted his head, raising an appreciative eyebrow. “Your endurance for pain is amazing.”

  Aedan couldn’t reply. If he opened his mouth, he would scream.

  “Now,” Agro whispered, stepping closer, “I’m going to ask you again. Did Rhosewen give birth?”

  The cold barely eased, and Aedan roughly filled his lungs. “No, she was only five months pregnant . . .”

  The pain spiked, more than before, and Aedan fell forward, his palms slapping red earth as a tormented roar vibrated his clenched teeth, swirling sand into his nostrils.

  “Are you absolutely sure about that?” Agro asked.

  When the agonizing force ebbed, Aedan breathed deep, laboriously pushing himself up to meet Agro’s stare. “Do you think I’d be here, facing my doom, if my baby lived? If I still had a precious petal from my Rose?” He sucked in another ragged breath. “I’m not strong enough . . . to leave what I want most in the world in order to procure justice, impossible justice. No, I’m desperate . . . lost without my love and broken without the child I couldn’t save. I came here to meet my end, so I can join my family in the afterlife. Just let me take the witch down with me.” He breathed through his nose, trying to ignore the pain so he could focus on hiding the truth.