To Handle A Hellcat (Southern Sanctuary Book 12)

by Jane Cousins

“What if that word is, no?”

  “Unacceptable.” Blue eyes blazed with high emotion.

  “Then it seems we are at an impasse.”

  The gold rope tattoos wrapped around Rowan’s biceps shifted slightly. The wolfhounds fur stood on end as the green tongues of fire that flickered across their stout frames danced slightly higher. Copying the green fire igniting the vine tattoos circling Rowan’s wrists that were glowing brightly. “You belong with us.”

  “No, I belong here. With my family and friends.”

  “You have so much potential. You could have ruled this world. Instead, here you are… where I left you, slowly drowning in the sheer mundaneness of it all. You could be a God.”

  Declan’s lips twisted upwards but he wasn’t really smiling. “Now you almost sound like a real mother. But we both know I’m nothing but a stepping stone for you, Rowan. You care nothing about the Vessel you birthed, except for the status symbol it accorded you.”

  “Thousands of years of tradition, and you would what, throw it all away for this place?”

  “Maybe it’s time Aengus stopped cheating time. Find an Eternal Vessel and cease trying to re-capture his youth. Shit, have you ever thought it through? How many boys he’s killed over the centuries, all so he can stay young and fuckable?”

  “The world must have love.” The green fire danced higher on Rowan’s wrists.

  “This legacy you created isn’t love. It’s some fucked up twisted fantasy world he created. A harem of adoring women to worship and grant his every wish. One chosen above all others to birth his next Vessel, raised to the High Priestess role for her sacrifice.”

  “It is the way it is done. It is the way it will always be done.”

  “If that’s the case. Why did you break with tradition? Why did you take me from Tir na nOg, and leave me on this plane? Was it because of how toxic the Temple was with Aengus there? You grew up in that place, groomed to step into the harem, saw what it was like. The demanding baby. The precocious and never satisfied toddler. The pervy, hyper-sexualised teenager causing mayhem amongst the minion Priestesses. I’m guessing when you were blessed with the privilege of creating the Vessel - and let’s not go into how weird it is that Aengus is essentially his own father, dickwad - and you rose to High Priestess status, I bet you didn’t want Aengus around to ruin your power trip or countermand your orders.”

  “Not at all.”

  “You can’t lie to me, Rowan. How do you think I know all this stuff? From my earliest years, Aengus has been bombarding me with his many, many lives. Waxing on about the power, the food and the women. Mistaking love over and over again for duty, blind worship and some weird kind of brainwashing.”

  “We do love him.” Rowan growled.

  “You love the power and the lifestyle. Aengus? The jury is still out on that. I think the only reason you are here at all is because your minions are getting restless. They know it’s time for Aengus to be with them, get to know them… biblically, and in the next decade or so, choose the woman who will be the mother of his next Vessel and be named High Priestess, usurping you.”

  The green fire from the tattoos around her wrists danced up her arms and Rowan’s blue eyes blazed suddenly, changing, flickering with green flames. “The love my Followers have for me is set in stone. You cannot shirk thousands of years of tradition.” Rowan’s voice was slightly huskier, deeper than before. Aengus was in the driver’s seat. “When Rowan thought to sneak you out of Tir na nOg, with the idea of leaving the Vessel elsewhere to grow and mature outside of the Temple. I was intrigued by the idea, encouraged it even. My repetitive childhood years under the yoke of all that luxury had began to bore me. I fed her machinations, spoke to her in her dreams and whispered what she wanted to hear.”

  “Then you have no one to blame but yourself when it came back to bite you on the ass.”

  Rowan’s forehead wrinkled in a frown, but the irritated sigh that she huffed out sounded weirdly masculine. “You were no different than a hundred other of my Vessels. Handsome. Limber. Smart. Disposable. Yet, you fought me from the very first, with a will-power that was unexpected. I can only blame this place… these people.”

  “I will never give in to you.”

  “You know.” Rowan’s lips quirked up slightly at the edges. “In a strange way I have enjoyed our campaign. I’d forgotten what it was like to feel frustration, to want something and be denied. But enough is enough.”

  Declan’s teeth ground together. “Your Followers are forbidden from laying a finger on me in anger or violence. You cannot force or coerce me. We are back to that impasse I mentioned earlier.”

  Rowan’s lips quirked higher still, but the expression looked unnatural on her features. “I never said the threat would be levelled against you personally, Vessel. She’s a special woman, the Hellcat, I grant you, but she’s not invulnerable to damage or pain…”

  Declan fought not slam his fist into Rowan’s smirking face. The words Aengus was spouting out her mouth caused his gut to roil and the breeze that had been tousling his locks began to blow a tinier bit harder. Darcy could look after herself. He would not panic. He wouldn’t give Aengus and his followers the satisfaction of seeing him react. “I pity you.”

  Rowan flinched visibly.

  “You say you are the God of Love, but I believe you’ve forgotten what love is. You’ve confused it with the hollow lust fuelled antics and blind devotion accorded you by your Priestesses. Who are as much a prisoner in your Groundhog day life as I am. They don’t love you. I’m not even sure they respect you. You made them addicts to the power you give them. Slaves rather then followers. You and your antiquated ideas of what it means to be worshipped.”

  “I am a God.” Aengus’s words roared out of Rowan’s mouth, along with sparks of green fire.

  “You are a bully.” Declan squared his shoulders. “And I am a Southern Sanctuary Enforcer. Stay out of my head, Aengus. And leave this place. If you think to hurt me or mine, I will raze you from existence.”

  Rowan shook her head. “So stubborn and pig-headed. I’m tired of you, Vessel. By the time I am through with your Hellcat, you’ll be begging me to take you and leave her alone. You’ve been warned.”

  Declan opened his mouth to reply but Rowan’s shoulders abruptly slumped and the green fire left her eyes. Bastard had to get in the last word, didn’t he.

  Declan grimaced, feeling the slight background white noise start up deep in his psyche. Aengus was back on board and kicking up a stink. Fuck, how could he defeat a phantom God that resided in his head? It had been naïve of him to believe he could build a life with Darcy without first confronting and banishing the God that lived in his skull.

  What should he do? Darcy was no doubt still ignoring him. So even if he contacted her, warning her to be on alert, she wouldn’t take his call. But then on the other hand, when wasn’t Darcy on alert, ready for danger? He had nothing to worry about. Darcy could take care of herself.

  “You follow a douchebag.” Declan brushed past a suddenly tired looking Rowan and her two pet wolfhounds, heading once more for the sandwich shop.

  Darcy would be fine, he assured himself. Worrying about her would accomplish nothing. Any moment she’d come roaring back to her office, demanding to see the finalised list of empty properties in the Sanctuary she’d instructed him to put together. And he planned on refusing to hand it over until she had something to eat. The woman pushed herself too hard.

  Still, a silent prayer to keep Darcy safe directed at the Sweet Lady above probably wouldn’t go astray. And as an added bonus, Aengus loathed it when he had a fleeting thought about any other deity. So win - win.

  * * *

  Darcy crept into the nursery. She’d promised Lucy Valhalla, smug grandmother of baby Asher, that she would not wake the sleeping infant. Even then, Darcy wasn’t sure she would have gotten past the over-protective lioness if she hadn’t produced the ceramic wall plaque with the baby’s name, date of birth and footprints decorati
ng it in a lovely shade of green.

  Whilst Lucy all but melted into a puddle of grandmotherly delight. Cooing over the gift. Darcy had made a run for the stairs.

  Silently she moved up next to the crib, admiring the way Erik, one of Hadleigh’s older brothers, had carved flying dragons into the head board and incorporated several more around the base.

  Staring down at the sleeping infant, Darcy bit back a sigh of irritation. She was the Special Liaison, how was she supposed to know what was… unique about the baby.

  At least no one hovered over her shoulder here constantly like Gaia had done when she’d examined… visited baby Theo an hour or so ago. It had taken more than a little discretion and misdirection to get forty seconds alone with the baby.

  At first Darcy wasn’t sure what she was looking for. But then the puzzle pieces had slotted into place. The mega load of tiny sheets drying and flapping in the breeze in Gaia’s back garden.

  The large parcel sitting by the door, according to the Custom’s note it was full of linen from some nunnery in France.

  With her precious forty seconds, and a gentle nudge to roll him over slightly, Darcy had discovered that Theo was slumbering peacefully on a bed of spiky cacti. The prickly surface not seeming to faze the baby at all. In fact, he napped on as if the cacti were a bed of flower petals.

  Shit, and now here she was facing conundrum number two. Okay, as baby’s went, Asher seemed a cute one. White blond wispy hair that had a tendency to curl. And it was clear he was going to be tall, that was a given considering his gene pool. The kid had a lot of Warrior blood swimming in his veins, she prayed that he wanted a destiny on the battlefield.

  Hmmm, but nothing unusual about him leapt out at Darcy. The baby was just sleeping. His breathing measured. His tiny chest rising and falling. Nothing special to see here. Except, Darcy’s spidey senses were tingling. Everything suddenly felt staged.

  She was being played, she was sure of it. “I know you’re awake.”

  Clear grey eyes shot open instantly, tiny arcs of lightning sparking across the irises. Asher remained still and watchful in his crib, observing Darcy just as carefully right back. And she had the distinct impression he was performing a threat assessment.

  Hell, that was eerie. An icy shot of awareness sizzled down her spine. Predator. She was in the presence of one. Every instinct she had fired up, ready.

  “Chill, kid.” Darcy narrowed her gaze and let him see her own predator credentials. “I’m Darcy, family.”

  Asher kept up the stare-fest for another minute then blinked and yawned.

  Darcy wasn’t sure if she was being dismissed as a threat or had passed some sort of test. She watched as Asher’s eyes closed, waiting another minute, this time she was sure he was actually asleep and not faking it. Damn, the baby was already a little scary.

  Darcy had to stifle a laugh. Hadleigh and Vaughn were going to be in so much trouble with this one… it was fucking wonderful.

  It took longer than Darcy would have thought possible to pry herself away from Hadleigh’s place. Tea was drunk. And she must have confirmed for proud grandmother Lucy Valhalla, who was on babysitting duty today, that Asher was a beautiful infant at least a dozen times before she was allowed to say her farewells.

  In her car, Darcy pressed her foot down hard on the accelerator, the wheels kicking up dust as she headed down the driveway. Okay, so what did she know? The two infants were showing signs of magic well ahead of time. They were what… two months old? That was young. Wait, hadn’t someone said the fluctuating Sanctuary grid had hit a peak in power and then levelled abruptly about two months ago? That suddenly magic had settled down. That fewer creatures were being pulled to the Sanctuary because of unexplainable power surges.

  Two months ago? Right when Asher and Theo had been born. Two very special babies that were already displaying signs of magic that they technically shouldn’t have been able to access until they hit puberty. Oh sure, it was good news for the Sanctuary. The grid levelling out. Less spells going awry. Fewer creatures accidentally stumbling through mysteriously powered up Portals.

  But babies with magic? Powerful magic? That would create a distinct challenge for their parents. And the community as a whole. It would put a whole new meaning on toddler temper tantrums should they get out of control.

  Though as problems went, two babies was a manageable size, the extended family would rally and deal with it. There was a Great-Uncle, a retired school teacher, who would love to have a new project. And several of the cousins would eagerly pitch in to help out.

  Damn, the problem was solved before it even had a chance to become interesting. Darcy would have to switch her attention back to the other issue on her plate, the go-no-where case of the missing Incubus. Damn, and now she was thinking about Declan…. And last night.

  No, no. She had decided to put that on the back burner. It was so not relevant. The incident was nothing more than a result of the sugar high from all that birthday cake. Half a slice really packed a punch. Hmm, and she didn’t think Declan had even had a bite. But what other explanation could there be? Nope, no explanation needed… because she bloody well wasn’t thinking about Declan.

  Not thinking about his knee melting smile. Or the trail of blazing heat his fingers scorched over her flesh as he ran questing fingers up her inner thigh, higher still…. Grrr, Darcy pressed her foot down harder on the accelerator. The man was a born flirt. And she represented nothing more to him than a novel experience, a woman who said no. And his ego couldn’t take that. So he’d obviously tapped into what ever mystical love arts Aengus had imparted over the years and used them on her.

  Darcy gripped the steering wheel tighter. Declan was a flirt. It meant nothing. To him. And especially to her. A fleeting moment of weakness that had gotten out of hand. Thank Goddess, he had stopped when he did.

  And yeah, that was the other thing that kept gnawing at her. Why had he stopped? She’d been all but a puddle of passion, why had Declan walked away when he clearly hadn’t gotten off?

  Was it to prove that he was better than her? Had greater will power?

  Damnation, she’d been wet and willing last night and Declan had just walked away. Darcy squirmed slightly, suddenly remembering the sight of him wearing nothing but those black butt-hugging jockey shorts, hauling himself out of the water at Reflection Gorge. At least the Buhay leeches had proven an adequate distraction that day… hold on, the leeches had swarmed through the Portal during another power surge.

  So the unstable energies afflicting the Sanctuary Grid had only been temporarily realigned with the births of Asher and Theo. There was a distinct possibility that the strange power surges were ramping back up.

  Oh, shit. Darcy clenched her teeth. What would that mean for Nell and Drum’s little ball of Sunshine due in five months time?

  Hell, she needed to speak to Great-Aunt Rebecca, the family expert on the grid and get some answers. As distractions went it was a good one. Of course the two Pagan Priestesses who’d been trailing her all morning choosing that moment to close the gap between them was an even better one.

  The throaty roar of their motorbikes sounding loud on the wide, empty road. Excellent, there was nothing better than a bout of violence to clear the head and get you to refocus – at least that’s what Darcy always said.

  Hmmm, but what did the biker babes hope to achieve by riding on her bumper? Smoke her out with exhaust fumes? Luckily Darcy’s instincts for violence were knife edge honed. She was reacting to the glimpse of firearms in her rear-view mirror even as the first barrel cleared a saddlebag.

  Darcy floored it, the car leaping forward in response. Better still the road ahead was relatively straight and thankfully empty. Really, it was a stupid place for a confrontation or ambush, or what ever this was… although there was Pile-driver Creek up ahead. The wooden bridge wasn’t very long but the drop to the creek bed was quite steep.

  Goddess, this was an assassination attempt.

  Darcy wa
s pulling the wheel hard to the right, even as a hail of bullets chewed up the tarmac. Bloody hell, she checked on their positon, smart, they were riding ten feet apart, two targets. Another stream of bullets sounded as the biker babes adjusted their aim. They had yet to hit her car, probably didn’t want to leave any obvious evidence of their attack. They were targeting her tires.

  She swerved to the left, and then hard to the right. Concentrating on keeping her tires out of the line of fire. Crap, crap, the creek wasn’t far away now. The Pagan Priestesses were crowding her. One sped up on her left, hugging the shoulder of the road, aiming for her front tire.

  Darcy swerved to hit her. The woman backed off, but the second rider had used the distraction to speed up on Darcy’s right, firing with a clear line of sight. The car wobbled sharply as the front tire blew. Fuck, fuck, she was going too fast. Hitting the brakes now would just send her into a spin. Darcy fought hard to stay on the road, stay straight.

  Oh, brilliant idea.

  As the biker babes fell back on her bumper, smiles of triumph looking particularly white against the blackness of their bulbous helmets. Darcy pulled with all her strength, trying to get the car lined up exactly. There, right there, she pulled hard on the hand brake. The tires screeched and the engine roared a protest.

  The car slowed abruptly and began to spin like it was a teacup on a Disney ride. Darcy shoved open the car door as the world spun by, even as the car’s momentum still carried it forward.

  Darcy’s open door clipped the first rider, sending her into a sliding skid. And the front bumper hit the second biker sideways, knocking the bike out from beneath her. The bike going left. The rider sailing off to the right. That was going to hurt. Darcy didn’t get the opportunity to see her land. She had bigger problems.

  Oh, shit, the car was still spinning and the small creek was coming up way too… the car slammed into the wooden railing nose first, but luckily the momentum of the spin meant the car kept swinging around, as the rear bumper went over the edge. The car banged and thumped its way down the incline. It might have been steep but luckily the dry creek bed was only fifteen feet or so below road level.