Bewitched (Fated #1)

by Kelly Moran

  Brady ran a hand down Kaida’s strands. “Are you okay?”

  “She’s fine. I didn’t pull as much from her as I did Fiona.” Ceara let go of Tristan and took a few deep breaths. “Nothing a cup of healing tea and rest won’t cure.” She did a double-take at Tristan’s irritated jaw tick. “The process didn’t hurt us. It’s just a...draining procedure.”

  Kaida didn’t know whether to be furious or insulted. If Ceara had used more of Kaida’s magick, neither sister would be in this exhausted state. Had Ceara thought Kaida couldn’t handle it? Did she not trust her to aid wherever, however she could?

  Once again, they’d rendered her the odd man out. Perhaps not intentionally, but nonetheless isolating.

  Tristan glared at them, each in turn, then shook his head. “Wait here. I’ll drive you home. And you won’t argue. No way in hell am I letting you walk when you can barely stand.”

  It was a testament to the situation when no one uttered a word on the way back. Upon entering the house, Ceara trudged up the stairs to take a nap and Fiona scuffled into the kitchen muttering something about tea.

  Kaida encouraged her to sit at the table and started the kettle. Though everything was labeled, it took her a bit to find the replenishing energy mix Ceara had talked about. Once made, she set a cup in front of Fiona and joined her.

  Silence lapsed until Kaida couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you still mad at me about leaving?”

  And...lovely. What was she, five years old?

  “No.” Fiona rubbed her forehead, gaze on her cup. “Disappointed, but not angry.” Weariness rippled off her in waves as she rested her elbows on the table.

  “We can talk about it later.” Kaida had yet to see Fiona in any state other than badass or temptress, so the wilted flower routine was disturbing.

  “We can talk about it now.” Fiona lifted her turquoise eyes to Kaida’s and lazily blinked. “I apologize for my claws earlier. It’s just...” She shook her head. “My whole existence has been leading up to this fragment of time. For you to return and the circle to be complete. To step up and end this blasted curse once and for all. I guess I built stuff in my mind and never considered that you’d have a life off the island, one of your own away from us.”

  A laugh blew from her lips, winded and dry. “Selfish and ignorant of me, really, to assume you’ve been on pause as if in stasis awaiting commands. Of course, you’re not staying. We’re the detour, not the destination, aren’t we?”

  Kaida opened her mouth, but quickly shut it. If she were to dissect her choices, her experiences up to this point, she’d have to face the unsettling fact that she’d been directionless. Forget detours or destinations. All she’d been doing was putting one foot in front of the other. A blind work of autopilot and managing nothing more consequential than existing.

  “I have been in stasis,” she numbly said, her voice hollow. Admitting such and realizing her life had been worth squat seemed a trivial insight, considering. It changed nothing and only shined a spotlight on the hulled-out person occupying space. “I don’t belong anywhere. I’ve never had a...connection or bond to anyone or anything or anyplace.”

  Actually, the few exceptions were encountering Brady in dreams, the instinct to study and teach Paganism, and boarding the ferry to Six Fates. Maybe she’d been looking at her destiny all wrong. It was entirely possible her life hadn’t begun until two weeks ago.

  “You always have a place here with us. You know that, right?”

  “I don’t, actually.” She took a healthy gulp of tea since her hands were shaking. A tribulation to the coldness taking up residence in her soul, no doubt. “Knowing what I do now and having an explanation for my gifts doesn’t equate to acceptance. If there was no curse, would you even want me here?”

  Fiona went eerily still. Fury turned her frigid glare to blue ice even as tears swam in her eyes. “Yes,” she said through her teeth. “If there wasn’t a curse, you would’ve been here, where you belong, anyway. And since Celeste created the damn curse, thus making her responsible for all this, let’s place blame where it rightfully should be. On her shoulders. That emptiness you’ve been trying to fill? We have, too. You were a void that grew every second of every day.”

  Slowly, she rose, flattening her palms on the table and leaning into them. “So, yes, Kaida. We would want you here, curse or no curse, magick or no magick, destiny or no destiny. You are my sister, my blood, and I love you.” Straightening, she sniffed. “However, at the moment, I don’t like you very much.”

  She strode into the adjoining solarium and slammed the door behind her.

  Dropping her head in her hands, Kaida sighed as guilt coagulated in her belly. She didn’t know why she was keeping her sisters at an arm’s length. They’d done everything in their power to make her feel welcome and a part of the family. Teaching her about her gifts and her history. Including her in their plans. Spending time with her.

  Yet, something—she had no clue what—was keeping her from fully engaging. Perhaps it was fear of rejection or a deep-seeded abandonment complex. Regardless, she had to fix the damage she’d just inflicted.

  She went into the glassed-in solarium teeming with plants and apothecary jars. She set her hands on the large working table in the center of the room where Fiona was crushing a dried herb of some kind in a mortar bowl with a pestle. Kaida watched her for a few minutes, movements sharp and rigid, and attempted to find the right words.

  “I’m sorry.” Seemed the best way to begin. “I was upset because I don’t understand why Ceara wouldn’t pull as much magick from me as she did you. It made me...feel left out.”

  Fiona didn’t bother looking up. “She did that because it was the first time she had to drain and she didn’t want to scare you.”

  Oh. Well, when put that way... “What I said to you was careless and I didn’t mean it.”

  Fiona ground the pestle harder. “I think you did, truthfully. I think you still blame us for Mom and Aunt Mara’s choice. It’s not us wanting you to leave. We’re not sending you away. You’re clinging to your backup plan for all you’re worth because it’s easier than believing someone gives a damn.”

  Irritation pounded Kaida’s temples. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Really?” Fiona slammed the pestle down and glared at her. “They say not knowing is worse than learning the truth, however painful the outcome. I sympathize with your situation. I sincerely do. To go your whole life with no clue where you come from and no understanding of your abilities had to have been horribly difficult. But you know what sucks harder? Having that information and being able to do zero about it.”

  She stormed to the hearth, dumped the contents of the mortar bowl into a steaming cauldron over a simmering fire, and came back. “For just one second, consider what we’ve been through, Kaida.”

  Diverting her eyes, she stared at the table’s grain pattern and fought tears. “I know it wasn’t easy on you, either. And I don’t blame you for what happened.”

  Fiona’s heavy gaze rested on Kaida so long, it bored holes. Finally, she narrowed her eyes. “You mean that, don’t you? What, precisely, is the problem, then?” When Kaida didn’t respond, Fiona plowed on. “Do you blame yourself?”

  Kaida whipped her gaze to Fiona’s, shock making her grip the table edge harder. The accusation was absurd. Kaida was a pawn in this game, not the playmaker. Right? She had no control over how the pieces were moved or any say in the tactics. Except, needles of doubt burrowed under her skin because...

  Well, her first thought wasn’t to deny the allegation.

  “Oh, Kaida.” Fiona shook her head, misery in her eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft enough to cushion the blow of her questions. “Did they not love you at all? Hold you when you cried or sooth you when scared or assure you when in doubt?”

  It was obvious she’d meant Kaida’s parents, and her sister had nailed the situation on the head, but old habits rose to defend. “They weren�
�t monsters.”

  “No. That dickhead who raised the Meath boys was a monster.” Fiona’s eyes darted back and forth between Kaida’s, probing and seeking with an air of eviscerating sympathy. “But they weren’t kind to you, were they? They may have said the three words, perhaps not often and just enough to appease you, but they never made you believe they actually loved you.”

  Kaida tried to swallow and couldn’t manage. “I wanted for nothing. They never hit or neglected me. I had a roof over my head and food in my stomach and—”

  “Loneliness that wouldn’t go away. A desire to belong and be accepted. They died never once giving it to you.” Fiona’s gaze shot to the ceiling as she rapidly blinked. “No wonder,” she whispered.

  After a broken, uneven exhale, she looked at Kaida again. “It’s going to take more than me saying so for you to believe me, and it’ll take even more time before you believe in yourself, but listen close. Their faults are not your own, nor are you responsible. What you’ve been seeking is in front of you. I really, really hope you find the courage to reach for it. Bravery got you here. Use that same bravery to stay.”

  On a sob, Kaida wrapped her arms around her middle and hung her head. How many times over how many years had she wished and prayed for a moment such as this? To have people who gave a damn instead of pretending to. A place not to call home, but feel like one.

  It seemed almost cruel to finally have the fates listen now when she was beyond needing those things anymore. To give in meant reopening herself to a hope she’d quashed in order to survive. Move on. And there was no guarantee all this couldn’t be ripped away from her.

  Which would be far worse than never having them in the first place.

  Fiona moved around the table and hugged Kaida from behind. “I speak for Aunt Mara, Ceara, and myself when I say, I love you.” She set her chin on Kaida’s shoulder, and her breath hitched in another sob. “Come with me for a second. I’d like to show you something.”

  Taking Kaida’s hand, Fiona led her out of the solarium, through the kitchen to a small circular space off the living room. Stained glass panels mirrored one another on two curved walls and between them were shelves of books. Fiona reached for a high ledge and brought down an album.

  She asked Kaida to sit in the lone patterned chair and passed her the book. “I’ll give you some time to look that over.”

  Sniffing, Kaida wiped her cheeks and ran her hand over the green cover. “What is it?”

  “Answers to some of the questions you haven’t asked.” Fiona studied her a beat. “Your family aren’t the only people you need to factor into your decision. Brady looks at you like you single-handedly hung the moon and blinked the stars into existence. Think how badly it’ll hurt him if you walk away after all this is over.”

  Kaida glanced at her, chest tight and her belly a riot. “Trust me, it’s been on my mind nonstop.” Her brain flickered memories of their time together to add more remorse to the growing pile. “Something happened between us last night.”

  Fiona cocked a hip in the doorway. “I would assume so since you came home this morning wearing his clothes.”

  “No,” Kaida said, waving her hand. “I mean, yes. We made love, but something weird happened afterward.” She did her best to relay what had gone down and described the event. “I’m really worried I may have cast a spell on him by accident or...” She frowned at Fiona’s dropped jaw and raised brows. “What?”

  “You shared your magick with him,” she breathed. Huffing a laugh, she toyed with the ends of her cocoa hair. “Holy crap. I’ve never done it myself. Don’t know about Ceara.”

  “What does that mean, sharing magick? Will it hurt him?”

  “No. The opposite.” Fiona stared at the window, gaze pensive. “When there’s a deep, strong bond between lovers, a witch can share her magick with her partner. There has to be an immeasurable amount of trust on both sides, and he has to be as open as her to receive it. Think of it like your essence merging with his. An almost literal colliding of souls.” Her gaze slid to Kaida’s. “I hear it’s an intense experience.”

  She nodded, not sure how to take the news. “It was very intense.” To put it mildly. Just recalling the surging emotions had her clenching her thighs and her throat restricting.

  Fiona sighed. “Well, that puts an exclamation point to what I said. Be careful with his feelings, sister.” She jerked her chin at Kaida’s lap. “I’ll be around if you need me.”

  Kaida watched her sister’s retreat, then focused on the album.

  Flipping the cover, she found a photo of a pregnant woman on the first page, hands on her engorged belly. She beamed a megawatt grin at the photographer, her cheeks red as if she were barely able to control her excitement.

  Her mother, Kaida assumed. The resemblance was uncanny. Meagan had blonde hair the exact shade as Kaida’s that fell in choppy waves just past her shoulders. Same blue eyes. The picture had been taken in the garden under the arch with sunlight streaming behind her.

  It was Kaida’s first glimpse at her birth mother, but she didn’t experience a tug of emotion like she’d expected. The woman was nothing but a stranger. Instead, curiosity had her turning another page.

  Two tiny hand and footprints in black ink were stamped on a piece of yellowed paper with Kaida’s full name and birth date written underneath. They’d...taken the time to issue something personal about her birth? That went against the assumption she’d had in her head about them swaddling her up and handing her off. Her sisters had claimed the decision to send Kaida away had been difficult but, until this moment, she hadn’t really believed them.

  Over the next hour, she went through the album, and the more pages she flipped, the harder her heart lurched and swelled. A few precious pictures of her as a newborn, propped on the floor next to a two-year-old Ceara and one-year-old Fiona, were inside. Plus a bunch of Mara and Meagan holding her. Every class photo from Kaida’s first day of kindergarten through senior year of high school were there, too. Christmas programs and yearbook clippings. Shots of important events such as prom and her in a cap and gown from both ceremonies. The last photo was her professional headshot at the college where she worked.

  Her adoptive parents must’ve sent them to Mara, but the considerate way they’d been cared for once received proved her sisters were telling the truth all along. Her family hadn’t discarded or casted her aside until her place in destiny was ready for her return. She wasn’t a means to an end and she hadn’t been forgotten.

  No, not at all. They’d followed her growing up and all her accomplishments. From a distance, they’d categorized and lovingly placed her inside a book like she’d...mattered to them. They’d been a part of her life in the only way they could.

  Shaking, she closed the album and blew out a breath, trying to wrap her mind around what she’d learned. Common sense and denial and truth battled inside her skull, her heart, and she wondered who’d be the victor.

  “Aunt Mara took that out every night and showed it to us when she tucked us in as little girls.” Fiona, expression solemn, leaned against the frame.

  Kaida hadn’t realized her sister had returned and cleared her throat.

  “That was our bedtime story, a continuous one that we devoured before we fell asleep. You see, Kaida, for us, you were never truly gone.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Any news about Captain Asshole?” Fiona tossed pizza crust on her plate and leaned back in her seat at the dining room table.

  Tristan grunted. “He left the hotel room late last night, but no one’s seen him come back. It’s possible he slipped past my watchdog. I might have his room searched despite the Do Not Disturb sign. We’ll see.”

  Brady rolled his head to stretch his neck, exhausted from the workout routine. He jogged two miles three times a week, but he wasn’t accustomed to vigorous exercise. Not on this level, anyhow. They’d gone at it hard in their home gym with weights, equipment, and defensive techniques. Usually, Riley preferre
d swimming laps and Tristan did martial arts to keep in shape, yet they appeared just as sluggish as Brady. Stress, no doubt.

  “He could be anywhere on the island.” He frowned, concern and uncertainty making concrete of his muscles all over again. “What if he catches one of you off guard?”

  “We can handle ourselves,” Fiona assured. “Even taking magick and our wards out of the equation, the tormentor over here has taught us self-defense skills.”

  Tristan quirked a brow. “The tormentor?”

  “I dub it your new nickname. I do Tae-Bo regularly, and my limbs feel like Jell-O after one day with you.”

  Ceara raised her hand. “Yoga, and I agree with her. It hurts to blink.”

  “Pilates.” Kaida sighed. “I’d complain, but that would exert too much effort. Plus, I’m in a food coma.”

  Brady glanced across the table at Riley, who was studying the three empty pizza boxes as if his life depended on it. “You’re unusually quiet.”

  “Shh,” Fiona admonished. “You’ll ruin a good thing.”

  Ignoring her jab, Riley rubbed his eyes. “I hate this not knowing crap. We have no clue what his motives are or his next move. He could show up at Bedknobs & Broomsticks, or while you’re walking in town, or even in the forest. Hell, me and my brothers work at different locations. What’s to stop him from going after one of us while we’re alone? We should get a jump on those journals.”

  Ceara nodded. “You’re right, but I’m afraid I’m useless tonight. Between erecting the ward last night, the two journal spells today, and training, I’m beat. Can we do it tomorrow?”

  “All of you have lives to lead,” Kaida mumbled, her glassy gaze on the table. “Jobs, commitments. I don’t have that problem at the moment.”

  Brady stared at her profile, her expression lost and distracted. He reached over and clasped her hand with his, squeezing. Without asking, he knew she was feeling adrift, wondering about her position and where she belonged. He couldn’t blame her, but it still ripped a fissure through his chest that she seemed displaced. He and her sisters could say or do everything in their means to show her they cared, but until she let go of her past and sought a future, they were at a stalemate.