Bewitched (Fated #1)

by Kelly Moran

  Wistfully happy, she turned to Brady, who’d been watching her, if his expression was any indication. Affection and sincerity looked back at her. Heat sizzled in the space between them.

  “Googly-eyes.” Riley wagged a finger at the two of them. “You’re doing the googly-eyes thing again.”

  A chuckle, and she took a sip of water. “Want any help, Ceara?”

  “No, thank you. I just need to wait for this dough to rise.” She moved to the sink and washed her hands. “I think we can head to the attic and begin.”

  The guys exchanged a skeptical look, but they trailed after her in silence. Kaida hadn’t actually been in the attic, either, so she was curious. They climbed the steps to the second floor and past the bedrooms to the third floor staircase.

  She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but surprise filled her just the same. Large and open, the circular space had wooden planks and exposed brick walls. Along the eastern side, floor-to-rafters windows let in light and were flanked by two stained-glass panels. A small altar was set up under it, about three feet from the floor. The center of the attic had a pentagram painted on the floor with unlit candles around it. A table along the north face had herbs and supplies. Off to the right, the room split off into another, rectangular one.

  Ceara headed that way, and they followed.

  Though windowless, this area had a skylight that bathed the space in sun’s rays. Crystals in varying colors hung from exposed beams by twine and created rainbows everywhere. Shelves held books and candles. A red sofa with a coffee table was kitty-corner to a wide pedestal stand.

  “This is our family grimoire.” Ceara moved to the pedestal. “You are the first outsiders to know it exists, never mind be in its presence.” She studied the guys thoughtfully. “I hope you understand the level of trust we’re bestowing.”

  They were silent a beat before Brady cleared his throat. “May I?” He gestured to the book.

  She glanced at Fiona for approval, then nodded.

  Kaida met him at the stand. The book was leather-bound and had a trinity knot etched on the cover. It was at least six inches thick and the uneven papers were aged to a cream color. Carefully, she opened it and found a pentagram on the first page, along with the name “Galloway” written in quill ink.

  “How old is it?” Brady asked.

  “Celeste penned the first entry the day before she made the journey from Ireland. She accounted the spells her mother taught her from memory and wrote them down so they wouldn’t be lost.”

  He jerked his attention to Ceara, then back to the grimoire. “This is in remarkable shape for being more than three-hundred years old. We shouldn’t even be touching it without gloves.” He glanced overhead. “The skylights could damage the pages, too.”

  “Celeste put a preservation spell on it the night she died. It won’t age or grow brittle.” Ceara’s lips pursed. “Aunt Mara also casted wards. A few of our ancestors were angry about the curse. One of them, at her wit’s end, tried to burn it. Another attempted to throw it in boiling water. Alas, it survived.”

  Tristan and Riley moved closer, both with enthralled expressions.

  “It can’t be removed from the house unless by a Galloway blood relative.” Fiona stepped between the two men, taking their wrists. “It also won’t allow anyone with nefarious intentions to touch it.” Lifting their hands, she set them on the book.

  Neither Riley or Tristan objected to her manipulation and splayed their fingers on the page. Brady, after a moment, did the same.

  “And there we have it.” Fiona looked at Ceara, relief sagging her shoulders. “Proof they really do mean us no harm.”

  “I’m glad you found a way to believe us.” Brady’s throat worked a swallow as he met Kaida’s eyes. “Honestly, I think it might kill me if something happened to you.”

  God, this man. Her eyes misted and she rolled her lips over her teeth to stave off tears. The longer they spent together, the stronger the bond cemented between them. Unbreakable. Lasting. So many times, she’d told herself the connection was crazy, that things like this didn’t actually happen outside of fairy tales.

  She was growing entirely too dependent on him. One day soon, she was going to have to return to her life away from Six Fates, away from him, and it was getting harder and harder to fathom leaving. Guilt had been building since their first kiss. It felt unfair to him to get romantically involved, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  As if unable to handle the emotion, he drew a ragged breath and refocused on the book while his brothers withdrew their hands. “This is extraordinary. Does it have an index or something? How on earth do you find the passage you need?”

  “That’s easy.” Fiona held her palms over the grimoire. “Show me Venatores.”

  Pages flipped on their own, fluttering like unseen hands were scrolling through them. With a snap, they stopped a quarter of the way through and settled.

  “Damn,” Riley muttered. “Where was this during my high school English Literature class?”

  Laughing, Kaida glanced at the page, but her grin immediately fell. Scrawled in quill ink was the image of the dagger she’d seen tattooed on the man in the hotel room. Below it was a few sentences about the Brethren of Venatores. She quickly read, but none of it was intel they didn’t already have via Ceara or Fiona.

  Brady turned the page, but a spell was on the next one. Nothing more. “Are you able to add to the book?”

  Ceara nodded. “When I have new spells, I write them in for future witches. Fiona often puts her potions in there, too.” She smiled. “Shall we get started on the ritual?”

  In silence, they followed her to the other room and halted in front of the altar. A goddess statue was in the center atop a yellow cloth.

  Ceara moved to a nearby table and brought a small basket of eggs to Tristan. “Eostara is a time of growth and life. These represent that. Go ahead and place them on the dais.”

  Hesitantly, he took the basket from her and eyed the altar. “Anywhere?”

  “Yes.” Once he set down the eggs, she went to the table and passed Riley a jar of what looked like syrup. “Honey is a symbol of abundance.” He followed Tristan’s suit without question and placed it on the altar. Next, she gave Brady a glass of milk. “This represents giving birth.” A quick wink at Kaida, and he put the glass by his brothers’ items.

  Fiona knelt in front of the statue and directed the others to do the same. Explaining as she went along, she gave everyone a small pot filled halfway with soil. “For new growth and life.” From a bowl, she cupped a handful of seeds and poured some into their hands. “We plant.”

  After watching her, the guys laid their seeds on the soil, pressed them with their fingertips, and deposited the pots on the altar.

  Ceara lit a black candle, then a white one. “Eostara is also a time of balance between light and dark.” She placed them in front of the goddess and rose to her feet. “And there we have it. You survived your first Spring Equinox. Tonight, we’ll cast a circle under the moon but, for now, we eat and celebrate.”

  Riley seemed unconvinced. “That’s it? No blood sacrifice or chanting at the sun or consuming a live chicken or anything?”

  “Well, there are my hot crossed buns.” Ceara smiled. “I also make a darn good sprout salad, lamb, and lemon cake.” She paused. “No blood required.”

  “Huh.” He scratched his head. “I don’t know what I was so worried about.”

  Fiona strode to the door, flicking a finger at him. “There’s your live chicken.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “All I’m saying is, you’re acting out of character in regards to her.” Riley stepped over a log on their trek through the dark forest on the way to the clearing. “What happened to my bookworm brother who calculates every angle before making a decision?”

  Brady sighed and glanced several yards ahead at the women, but they didn’t seem aware of the quiet conversation between him and his brothers. “I’m right here. The s
ame guy.”

  “You look like Brady, walk like Brady, sound like Brady, but you don’t behave like him. Has she cast a spell on you? Because the brother I know would never tear through the woods in the middle of the night based off a bad dream. Or nearly break in a door to get to a woman. Or crash into a house on a rampage to rescue said woman. Or roar like a lunatic and beat at a wall until his knuckles bled—”

  “Fine. I get it.” He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated to no end. “Turned out, I was right, though. She was in danger.”

  “True, but that’s not my point. I’m not judging or anything, man. I’m worried, okay?”

  Brady would’ve been lying if he claimed he wasn’t worried also. He had been acting unusual and Kaida was the culprit. Yet, he could no more control his response to her than he could change history or undo the mistakes of their ancestors.

  Again, he stared ahead. The sisters were all in long, flowing white robes and nothing else. Despite the chilly air, they were barefoot. Their hair was loose, cascading down their backs and catching the moonlight.

  His gaze locked onto Kaida. Her slender frame and subtle curves. The graceful sway of her movements. How her caramel strands appeared more wheat-colored under the ethereal night sky. Longing punched him square in the chest.

  “Maybe it is a spell. If that’s the case, I don’t want it broken.” He lifted a hand to stop Riley’s argument. Not for one second did Brady actually believe his feelings for her weren’t real. “All this talk of destinies and fate. Thing is, I’ve been cursed since the day I laid eyes on her. And it has nothing to do with magick.”

  “See? That right there. When did you turn into a romantic?” Riley shook his head. “Next thing I know, you’ll spout pining sonnets like Hemingway and become a recluse.”

  Brady chuckled. “Said the man who knows a poet well enough to drop the name and discern his muse was a long-lost love.”

  Throwing his hands up in surrender, Riley huffed. “Whatever. You barely know her.”

  Wrong. On all accounts, wrong. Brady knew every nuance of her expressions, each gesture and their meaning. Could all but trace the thoughts in her head and spot her in a crowd full of a million strangers. Would recognize her scent and touch and voice, even if he were deaf, dumb, and blind.

  “She’s what I’ve wanted all my life.” He glanced around Riley to Tristan. “What say you?”

  “Yeah, man. Back me up. You’re cryptically mute.”

  Tristan’s contemplative gaze remained forward. “I don’t think you can measure a man’s character until he’s faced with true indecision. We could’ve followed in our forefathers’ footsteps and continued the same path of hatred. The groundwork was already laid. Yet, here we are, in the damn woods, in the dark, trailing after witches our family wants eradicated. Why? Because Brady had the courage to stand his ground and go with his gut.” He looked at Riley. “He hasn’t changed. He’s showing his true colors since he has something to fight for.”

  Silence hung, nothing but the chirp of crickets and the rustle of foliage under their shoes to fill the quiet.

  Finally, Riley grunted. “Perfect. I’ve got Hemingway on my right and Yeats on my left.”

  “Who’s Yeats?”

  Stopping abruptly, Riley faced Brady. It took everything he had to continue the feigned innocence act while Riley glared at him like he’d clocked time in the land of stupid.

  “Who’s Yeats?” Riley stalked a few steps and came back. “Famous Irish poet? Only one of the best wordsmiths to ever be born? I can’t believe...” He straightened suddenly at Brady’s grin and Tristan’s low laugh. “Walked into that one.” Riley resumed their trek. “Assholes.”

  From several paces ahead, Fiona pivoted and sauntered backward. “Personally, I’ve always been a Robert Browning fan.”

  Kaida glanced over her shoulder and pointed to herself. “Edgar Allan Poe.”

  “Shakespeare.” Ceara lifted her hand.

  “Yay,” Riley replied deadpan. “We’re all well-versed and passed English 101. Just how much of that conversation did you overhear?”

  “Only all of it.” Fiona turned around once more and continued forward. “If you didn’t want eavesdroppers, you should’ve talked quieter.”

  “I can never tell if she’s screwing with my head or hitting on me,” Riley said under his breath.

  Fiona shrugged. “One and the same, aren’t they?”

  Before Riley could retort—or kill her—they arrived at the clearing.

  Brady looked around, but all was as it should be. Part of him was concerned they’d encounter a band of Venatores or something with all the weird juju as of late. Regardless, he uneasily glanced at the stars overhead while the sisters set up the makings for their circle. Peat moss blended with the scent of wet soil and brine. The roar of the tide crashed against rock from just on the other side of the tree line, reminding him of the elevation.

  A white candle was put on the ground at each of the corresponding directional points, about eight feet apart. The ladies set a feather by the eastern one, a quartz rock by the northern, a seashell by the western, and a match by the southern. Once finished, they each stepped inside the center of the makeshift circle, white robes flowing in the breeze.

  “Uh,” Riley scratched his head, “do you want us to, you know, do anything? Bark at the moon or whatever?”

  Fiona shot him a baleful glance. “Just stand there and look pretty. And don’t enter the sacred circle.”

  Barely resisting a laugh, Brady cleared his throat while Riley crossed his arms and seethed. Tristan merely watched the sisters, his stance wide and expression pensive.

  Ceara lifted her arms, palms up. “Spirits of fire, I call on you. Guardians of the South, I summon thee.” The southern candle’s wick flickered to life with a low flame.

  Fiona mimicked her sister’s pose. “Spirits of air, I call on you. Guardians of the East, I summon thee.” Another candle lit, this time the eastern.

  Kaida was next. “Spirits of water, I call on you. Guardians of the West, I summon thee.” The western candle flamed.

  All three sisters chanted together. “Spirits of earth, we call on you. Guardians of the North, we summon thee.” The last candle flickered to life.

  In awe, Brady watched while they tilted their faces toward the sky. As they clasped hands, the air shimmered between them. Wavered. A bluish light emitted from their forms, seemingly from within.

  “Mother Earth, we call on you. Father Sky, we call on you.”

  Wind whipped in the clearing, a cyclone that stirred pine needles and leaves around the sisters’ formed circle. Their blue glow burned brighter, pulsed, then changed to a yellowish-white and remained as if for protection. Power blasted from them, an energy that had Brady’s blood humming. Their hair caught in the motion, strands lifting to swirl about their gorgeous faces.

  Tristan shook his head. “Look at them. Amazing.”

  “I’m totally turned on right now,” Riley added in the same reverent tone.

  Magnificent was the term that came to Brady’s mind. Utterly magnificent. In all his short years, he’d never witnessed anything more awe-inspiring or wondrous. Not just the sisters’ beauty or the power they wielded, but the accord and peace they emanated. He could read a thousand tomes on witchcraft and none of the pages would be half as informative as being here in this moment.

  Finally, he began to understand their magick, their ways, and humble didn’t begin to give the feeling it left him any justice. Part of him had always been frightened of their gifts, but he’d been wrong. This wasn’t something to fear. It was something to cherish. A miracle, of sorts, that there was genuine good in their craft.

  Their voices rose into the night. “Fertile fruit of ancient life, bring joy and laughter, ease all strife. With your vast fertility, grant all creatures perfect love and harmony.” They unclasped hands and bowed their heads. “As you dwell in us, make a vessel fit of thus. Give us strength and wisdom to do all these thin
gs we’ve promised to you.”

  The wind died and the light around them faded. Leaves resettled on the ground. Their hair floated back into place against their backs. Eyes closed, they each replied, “Thank you,” in turn, then said, “Blessed be,” in unison.

  After a beat, Fiona lifted her arm and wove it in a circle. One by one, the candles went out.

  A hush fell. The complete kind where not even an owl hooted or the trees rustled. And it was deafening. Profound.

  Unable to breathe, to blink, to move, Brady attempted his damn best to get a hold of himself. Useless, since his lungs had collapsed and his heart was waving a white flag in surrender. Because, hell.

  He’d gone and fallen in love with Kaida.

  Hard to say when it had actually happened. Perhaps as a boy when she’d first come to him in dreams, surrounded by buttercups and under the sun’s golden rays. Maybe it was the second he’d spotted the real her from his office window, standing on the sidewalk while leveling his foundation. Or it could’ve been the moment he’d kissed her in the lighthouse, knotting years of memories and opening his eyes he hadn’t realized were closed.

  Regardless of when, the truth smacked him upside the head now. He’d been on the brink before with other women, had waded in that particular pool a time or two, yet hadn’t fully engaged his heart. But he’d been fooling himself. All along, and without even realizing it, he’d been waiting for her.

  For Kaida. A restless soul just searching for a place to belong. Intelligent, adaptable, determined, and intuitive Kaida Galloway.

  Unimaginable heat filled him, shoving drafts out of the corners and cold from the cracks. Throat tight and pulse tripping, he succumbed. What sense was there in denying the fact or erring on the side of caution? There was no one else like her and never would be. Only a stupid man would reject the woman who held his soul in the palm of her hand.