Bewitched (Fated #1)

by Kelly Moran

  If they didn’t solve destiny’s riddle, that was it. The End. Three centuries of love lost and never found would become the permanent fate for both their families. Any hope for soul mates and ever-afters would cease to exist, leaving “the curse” the reigning champion. History proved one or both of them would die at an early age. Tragically, no doubt. Or, if they were lucky, live long enough to wallow in misery and self-loathing, pining for one another after something had wedged them apart.

  And assuming they did pull off this little miracle to complete the appointed task, the Venatores were after them. Plus, Riley and Tristan still had their parts to play. Alongside Fiona and Ceara.

  Doomed, meet thy minion.

  Kaida leaving Six Fates hardly qualified as a sub-heading in the We’re Screwed column, yet it bothered him to no end and grated his already raw nerves. Love had never bestowed a high-five to the face for him before. The thought of losing her, in any capacity, was debilitating. Unbearable. Nothing mattered without her.

  A harsh exhale, and he pushed off the counter to head upstairs.

  Once he finished a shower, he threw on a pair of gray slacks and a white button-down, then stared at the bed. Kept staring. The sheets were rumpled from their love-making, her scent lingered in the room, and recollection of their passion flooded him until suffocation loomed.

  All he wanted was more. More memories, more time together, more...everything. Interesting, because he’d never thought himself a sadist.

  The sisters had arrived by the time he’d made it back downstairs and were helping his brothers set out the food in the formal dining room. They hadn’t dined in or used this space since their uncle had left the island nine years ago. Brady had almost forgotten what it looked like.

  Walnut wainscot paneling would’ve made the interior dim or moody if not for the elaborate chandelier over the massive ten-seater Palais Royale and the bay window facing the eastern side of the grounds.

  The space was still as ostentatious as he remembered. Monet on the walls, a Copenhagen china set too dainty for a princess’s tea party placed precisely at each seat, and Baroque silverware on cloth napkins. Even the French Rocco-style table with its exuberant floral embellishments, carved cabriole legs, and leaf swirl motif were pretentious.

  How he used to dread coming in here as a boy. Meals were fraught with strain and he always felt like he was walking on eggshells just by picking up a fork. Uncle Greg had expected silence while eating. Afterward, he’d stretch out his time drinking cognac in order to berate Brady and his brothers for whatever they’d done to screw up. Getting a B in some subject. Talking without being spoken to first. Breathing.

  But while he observed the ladies arranging platters with his brothers and discussing a topic he hadn’t followed through all the static in his skull, he realized the current atmosphere was entirely different. Smiles. Chatter. Hell, cordial happiness even.

  Just like what had happened in the kitchen this morning with Kaida, light petered the darkness from the room. A veil parting. A weight lifting. In its wake was a sense of fondness he’d not once associated with the mansion. Warmth fisted the cold ball of dread in his gut and spread heat through his system.

  “Hey.” Kaida stepped in front of him and smiled. “You’re just in time.”

  No. She’d arrived just in time. On the island. In his life.

  “Are you okay?” She tilted her head. “You seem distracted.”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Come what may, he had this moment. This inconsequential flicker of a second where he loved a woman capable of erasing the repulsion of his childhood and transforming a house into a home. “I’m perfect.”

  He gave her a quick kiss, wishing he could linger longer, and held a chair out for her. Sitting beside her, he placed a napkin in his lap.

  The others joined them and dishes were passed. Honey-glazed ham, mashed potatoes, steamed carrots, and rolls filled their plates. Damn if food didn’t taste better with her around also.

  “All right,” Riley said, setting his silverware aside once finished. “We saw your spring equinox thingy. You gotta spill the dirt on what you do for Halloween.”

  Fiona took a sip of wine. “We dig up old ancestors and ride broomsticks, of course.” At Riley’s blank stare, she rolled her eyes. “And here I thought sarcasm was your primary language.”

  “My second, actually. Smart-assery is my first.”

  Her laugh was more sultry than the cabernet. “Samhain is a time for honoring the dead. It’s also for cleansing and releasing. It’ll be Kaida’s first celebration, too. You’ll survive.”

  “Definitely.” Kaida wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I’m looking forward to coming back and doing all the rituals I missed out on.”

  Tension crackled in the stagnant air.

  Tristan and Brady exchanged a look of dismal understanding before Fiona jumped down Kaida’s throat.

  “Coming back? As in, you planned to leave?” She smacked her hand on the table, and Kaida trembled, startled shock in her eyes. “When, exactly? What if the tasks aren’t fulfilled? You’ll, what? Shrug and wash your hands of everything? Say, oh well, it was a good effort—”

  “Fiona.” Brady slowly shook his head and reached for Kaida’s hand under the table. “Talk to her about it later.”

  Fiona eyed her sister, then waved a dismissal. “Whatever. Let’s talk strategy. Any word from your uncle since last night?”

  “Not that I’m aware.” Brady squeezed Kaida’s cool fingers in a silent show of support despite the way his stomach clenched at the confirmation she didn’t plan on staying. He’d have to figure something out. Find a way to compromise or change her mind. “We did update the alarm codes, however, as a precaution.”

  “He checked into the hotel just after midnight.” Tristan set his napkin on his empty plate. “He has the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. No one’s seen him come or go, but I have an extra security guard on lookout in the lobby.”

  “That’s a good start.” Ceara dropped her chin in her hand. “I can put a ward around your house like we did at ours. I don’t have enough power to cover the forest, though. Our meadow is exposed, as well.”

  “What would that do?” Tristan asked.

  “It would prevent him from entering the mansion or immediate grounds. Think of it like an invisible force field or bubble.”

  “Go for it.” Riley leaned back in his seat. “And thanks for the offer.”

  “I wish there was more we could do,” she mumbled, then abruptly straightened. “I almost forgot. Hold on.” She rushed from the room and returned moments later, kneeling by Brady’s chair. “Fiona, Kaida, and I have our pentagram necklaces, which I’ve spelled for additional protection. I made these for you guys.”

  She fastened a thin braided leather bracelet around each of their wrists with a gold clasp, explaining along the way. “I tried to make them as manly as possible. Hopefully, they’re okay. They have to be worn to be effective and won’t make you Superman or anything, but they will keep you out of immediate danger. Enough tenacity or persistence from an opponent, though, and the ward will sever. Think of it like an early warning signal.”

  Once she returned to her seat, she took a sip of wine and hesitantly glanced at the others. Tristan and Riley were staring at their wrists like they’d been sucker-punched and Brady couldn’t drudge up the right string of syllables to relate his gratitude. Not only had she offered to protect their home, but she’d taken the time to craft something personal.

  What a difference a couple weeks made.

  “You hate them. I’m sorry. If you have a watch or ring you like to wear, you can pass it along and I could use that instead—”

  “This was very thoughtful.” Tristan cleared his throat. “Thank you. We’ll wear them.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind—”

  “Positive.” He offered a slight shake of his head, clearly moved by her offer, and focused on Kaida. “Where are you on the task? Any progress?”

&nb
sp; “Honestly, I’m at a loss.” Kaida wrinkled her nose. “I figured our role was to bring everyone together. We just collectively ate a meal and you guys attended one of our circle rituals, but no box has shown up.”

  “More than that, we’ve united.” Brady ran his fingers through her hair because it calmed him and he needed to touch her. “Fiona and Ceara were prepping to use magick against Uncle Greg in the clearing. Tristan and Riley stepped in front of them as a defense. And both actions were done without thought like an ingrained instinct.” He swept his gaze over Kaida’s profile, his pulse throbbing at the reminder of what she’d done. “You actually did use your power to shove him off me.”

  She smiled, nodding at his praise.

  “Maybe your mission is something more personal,” Tristan offered. “Target specific to one or both of you?”

  “Decent theory.” Fiona twisted her lips in thought. “All Aunt Mara knows is what Celeste said in her original spell. Three tasks await to set the cursed free. No hint of what they are, though.”

  “Love has been stolen because of hate.” Brady sighed. “That was her reasoning. Logically, the best educated guess is what Kaida suggested. Bring the families together to mend fences. Which we’ve done.”

  Ceara brushed a strand of auburn hair from her face. “I can delve into the grimoire. I doubt anything’s there, but it won’t hurt to try.”

  “Are you ladies in any hurry to head home?” Riley asked.

  “Why?” Fiona narrowed her eyes. “Want help with the dishes?”

  “If you insist.” He grinned. “But in seriousness, I think we should introduce you to our library.”

  Brady nodded, realization dawning. “The journals.” Except they were written in Latin and Brady had been the only one to ever glance at them. Years ago.

  “Exactly. Six heads are better than three, and the books might be able to connect the dots, help us figure out what we’re missing. There’s bound to be clues in them.”

  “What journals?” Fiona asked.

  “Minister Gregory Meath started one after Celeste died.” Brady strummed his fingers on the table, thinking. “Many of our ancestors have kept up with the habit. There’s at least fifty volumes.”

  Ceara’s brows rose. “And you have all of them? The originals?”

  “Yes.” He looked across the table to check Tristan’s reaction, and was relieved at his brother’s subtle nod of approval.

  “Stop. Rewind.” Kaida held out her hand in a gesture of pause. “I’m still hung up on the part where you have a library. That is so sexy. I may never leave.”

  Riley tilted his face toward the ceiling and belted a laugh. “Christ, if you’re not Brady with breasts, I’ll cook next time.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kaida, mouth agape, stared at the leather-bound journals Brady had placed on the table in the library. Wearing white gloves, he’d retrieved them from a high glass-encased shelf and had lined them in order. Fifty-two in all. Some bindings were cracked, the pages yellow with age. Others looked new and barely touched.

  Amazing. So was the room. While Brady had been busy, she’d strolled around, fighting a bookgasm. They had first editions of most of her favorite classics and newer titles. Volumes and volumes of fiction, non-fiction, encyclopedias... Heaven. And those were just the books. Vaulted ceiling with a mural of angels. A fireplace she and her sisters could walk inside. Intricate accent carvings and a bar in the corner.

  Heck, all she’d need was a bathroom and she could move in, never to see daylight again.

  “Okay, we have two problems.” Brady held up his gloved hands. “First, these are delicate. We’re not going to be able to touch most of them without protection and the pages are brittle. I’m not even sure opening the first ten is a good idea. The cases that housed them were light and moisture controlled. Exposure could destroy them.”

  Ceara stepped closer to the table, bending to get a better peek. “I think I can help with that issue. Aunt Mara has a spell for longevity and preservation in our grimoire. If I cast it on these, we should be able to do whatever with them. They’d remain in the state they are now.”

  Brady reared. “Really? Well, problem one solved. Second, they’re all written in Latin.”

  “I assume you don’t speak the language,” Kaida said.

  “A word here and there. Not enough to translate. What about you guys?”

  They shook their heads.

  Ceara straightened. “I have a solution there, too. It might be tricky, though. I can create a spell allowing us the ability to read any written language and understand it. However, it would be temporary and I’d have to be careful in the phrasing to avoid the no-personal-gain rule.”

  “Or what?” Tristan widened his stance, crossing his arms. “What would happen?”

  “It can come back times three.” She ran a finger across her lip, gaze trained on the journals. “For instance, if we were to cast one to win the lottery, it would eventually bite us in the butt. Karma would balance the scales. We’d get robbed, or lose the money in bad investments, or a disaster of some kind could force us to pay out damages. Fire, flood, wrath of God. Only, we’d wind up with less than what we started with before the spell.”

  “Uh.” Riley raised his hand. “I vote no on the second spell.”

  Fiona sent him a withering glare. “There’s no personal gain that I can determine. No monotonous value and we’d get nothing out of it but information. I say yes.”

  “What about everyone else?” Brady eyed each of them. “In my opinion, all decisions should be unanimous.”

  Kaida’s heart swelled, and she bowed her head as a smile bloomed. This was what she’d been hoping for all along. Teamwork, respect, and a sense of harmony. Stupid as it sounded, it was gratifying to be a part of something, no matter the danger involved. Her parents had loved her in their own way. Of that, she had no doubt. But she’d never gotten the impression they understood her or invested in her goals. Friends had been hard to come by, and the majority of those she had back home were colleagues.

  Tristan faced Ceara. “What do you think? Is Fiona right?”

  She tilted her head, gaze still lost in thought. “Yes, best I can tell. I can make sure I’m uber careful when I cast the spell.”

  He nodded as if her word was all he’d needed. “I’m in.”

  “Me, too,” Kaida agreed. She trusted her sisters and they’d never do anything to cause harm. The journals might be a wash, but they’d never know if they didn’t get a chance to read them.

  Brady wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I vote yes.”

  Riley sighed. “Fine. Count me in.”

  Ceara wrung her hands and glanced around. “I’ll work on the phrasing for both spells tonight. In the mean time, I should put the ward up on the mansion before we go.”

  After agreeing to training tomorrow in the late afternoon, followed by pizza and spell-casting, they all headed outside for Ceara to do her thing. Kaida rubbed her arms while a chilly breeze blew off the coast.

  Brady stepped behind her and wrapped her in his embrace. “Cold?”

  “A little.” She craned her neck and grinned at him. “Better now.”

  He kissed her cheek. “Are you staying over tonight?”

  “I really should ask my sisters about what happened with us before we have sex again.” She was still a tad rattled and hadn’t been able to approach the topic since Riley had been around all morning.

  “I understand.” Brady stared ahead at the mansion, his expression tight. “We need to talk soon. About...things.”

  “Yeah.” And she knew precisely what he wanted to discuss. Her leaving Six Fates. It wasn’t as if she’d promised him or her sisters anything more than a few months, and she hadn’t lied. Yet Fiona’s reaction at lunch sat heavy in her stomach. Perhaps she should’ve had a reminder chat with Brady before they’d gotten intimate. “I’m sorry if I mislead you or—”

  “You didn’t, sweetheart.” He sighed and pressed his
forehead to her temple. “But we need to have a conversation.”

  “Okay.” She closed her eyes a moment and checked on Ceara. Her sister was still studying the front of the property, unmoving. “Are you all right, Ceara?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think I can conjure enough magick for an estate this size. It’s much bigger than our house. I think I can only do the mansion itself.” She looked at Fiona. “Can I pull some from you? Both of you?”

  Fiona nodded and Kaida moved out of Brady’s arms to follow suit, standing beside Ceara.

  “You might feel tired, but don’t be scared,” she said, most likely for Kaida’s benefit. “Try not to fight the pull.” Ceara took Fiona and Kaida’s hands and closed her eyes.

  Immediately, Kaida’s fingers vibrated and heat shot up her arm, followed by a cold, numbing sensation. She forced herself to relax despite the odd awareness of her energy draining and fatigue dragging her under. In less than ten seconds, it felt like she’d gone eight rounds with vodka and lost.

  Ceara shook beside her, head thrown back and brows wrinkled in concentration. The air wavered around her and turned a shimmering red. Sparks snapped. Crackled. She let out an awful wheeze, dropped Kaida and Fiona’s hands, and collapsed to her knees.

  “Done,” she panted, her palm pressed to her chest. “The property’s secure.”

  Tristan looked two shades past pissed off as he strode over and stopped in front of her. “You didn’t tell us it would be that hard, that it would...hurt you.” Taking her hands in his, he helped her to her feet. “I never would’ve agreed to it.”

  “You don’t look so good either, Fi.” Riley clenched and released his fists like he was resisting the urge to reach for her.

  Now that Kaida was paying attention, the guys were right. Both her sisters were pale and a sheen of sweat glistened their skin. She was a smidgen nauseated, perhaps weak, but she didn’t feel half as bad as Ceara or Fiona looked.