Love Bewitched (Gargoyle Night Guardians Book 3)

by Rosalie Redd

  Marco stood on the outside of the cell, the telltale remnants of his sift churning at his feet. He brushed a few imaginary pieces of lint from his jacket then rubbed the handle of his cane. A smirk flashed across his features, and his attention flicked to Victoria. “I came to see her.”

  Victoria’s nostrils flared. She lifted her chin and hobbled to the bars. “If you won’t help your daughter then we have nothing further to discuss.”

  Zain glanced from Marco to Victoria and back again. His spine tingled with the drum of a thousand beetles skittering over each vertebra.

  The curve of Marco’s nose.

  His high and regal cheekbones.

  The wheat blond color of his hair.

  Dear gods, they were all similar to Wynne’s features.

  A sour taste burned at the back of Zain’s throat. He stared at the elder witch. “He’s Wynne’s father?”

  Victoria stiffened. Her cheeks pinked as if he’d slapped her.

  The lack of response was proof enough for him.

  “Does she know?” he asked.

  “She found out a couple of nights ago.”

  “So did I,” Marco added.

  Wynne hadn’t said a word to him. Why hadn’t she trusted him with this information? Zain’s mind spun with possibilities, none of them good. What else had she kept from him?

  “I’m not surprised that gargoyle found a way to return here.” Marco rubbed his chin then tapped his index finger alongside his lips. “From what I’ve gathered, Damian and Wynne are quite the item. Lovers, you know.”

  Zain sifted between the bars, materialized next to Marco outside of Victoria’s cell, and wrapped his fingers around the guy’s neck before the bastard could utter another sound.

  “You. Lie.” The cords in his neck tightened.

  Marco’s breath squeaked from his lips, and he scraped his claws down Zain’s arms. The rip of leather shredding echoed in the space between them.

  Zain tossed Marco against the wall. “I should kill you, right here, right now.”

  Marco shoved away from the damp stone. He straightened his jacket, and his eyes flashed a brilliant yellow. “You wish. I haven’t survived this long without merit.”

  The desire to finish him off churned in Zain’s gut, but the need to find Wynne once again outweighed anything else. His attention flicked to Victoria.

  “I’ll retrieve Wynne. That’s a promise.” He tried to sift, but the churning energy didn’t materialize. His thoughts froze.

  Marco laughed. “That witch has turned your brain to mush. The sun rose on the human realm almost an hour ago.”

  A heavy weight settled onto Zain’s shoulders. He’d have to spend the whole day here, alone with his thoughts. Had she slept with that damned gargoyle? Why hadn’t she told him Marco was her father? Had she really cared for him or was that a ploy to escape?

  “You’re stupid. No one could ever love you. All you know how to do is fight.” His deceased wife’s remarks echoed in Zain’s mind.

  She’d been right all along. Wynne couldn’t possibly love him. She’d played him for a fool, just like Agatha.

  An ache radiated from his chest and squeezed his lungs until spots formed in his vision. A dagger to his heart wouldn’t have hurt this much.

  Marco snickered. “Perhaps Gwawl would be interested in knowing his little trinket is no longer with us.”

  Zain leapt at the hideous fae, but the guy slipped from his grasp and disappeared in a swirl of dust and dirt.

  He landed in a heap on the floor, and his knee cracked against the hard stone. Pain registered on some level, but the roiling brew of emotions swirling in his stomach—anger, doubt, fear—took control, pushing everything else aside.

  Dammit, he’d given his heart to Wynne, and she’d stomped on it with both feet. Maybe it didn’t matter that once Gwawl discovered he had failed, he’d suffer for eternity. Hell, he was already there.

  He dragged himself to his feet and wiped his hair away from his face.

  “Zain.” Victoria’s soft voice filtered between the bars.

  He peered at her.

  A gentle smile passed over her features, and her eyes glistened with moisture. “Don’t believe everything you hear. Wynne cares for you. I’ve seen it in her eyes, and the eyes don’t lie.”

  “What does it matter? She’s better off with a gargoyle anyway. I’m nothing but a stupid, no good fae.”

  Victoria leaned against the bars and raised an eyebrow. “Do you really believe that?”

  A self-deprecating laugh bubbled from inside. “What else could I possibly be?”

  “Someone who loves my daughter. I know you’ll do right by her.”

  “I have to go.” Not willing to listen to anything else she had to say, he sifted to his bedroom to lick his proverbial wounds and contemplate his options.

  CHAPTER 28

  Wynne wrenched from Damian’s grasp and stumbled into the familiar family sideboard. Her elbow connected with the wooden frame. Letters, papers, and odd bits of mail scattered through the air and rained onto the rug. One slipped under the couch as if eager to escape Wynne’s impending wrath.

  Still wobbly from her molecules reforming into her body, she gripped the table’s edge. Her attention riveted on Damian. “How dare you!”

  Damian recoiled, but then his spine straightened. “What the hell, Wynne? I rescued you.”

  “I wanted to stay.” Spit flew from Wynne’s lips.

  The house rumbled on its foundation, and the picture of Sasha, Wynne, and their mother teetered on the mantel.

  Damian’s gaze narrowed. “Why? So you could be with that fae? What’s wrong with you?”

  Wynne brushed past him and strode to the fireplace. She placed a shaky hand on the mantel and forced herself to breathe. Zain and Mom were both still in the Otherworld. They’d suffer if she didn’t return. Her ribcage tightened around her heart, squeezing the organ to the point of pain.

  The determined gargoyle approached from behind and gently placed his palms on her shoulders. “I don’t blame you. Fae are seductive, evil creatures. That fae duped you for his own purposes and—”

  “You know nothing about Zain.” Wynne jerked from his grasp and turned to face him. A fire burst to life in the hearth. Flames roared up the chimney, mimicking the anger burning inside.

  Damian’s brows furrowed. He took a step back and raised his hands. “Calm down, Wynne. Let’s talk about this.”

  Footsteps pounding on the stairs echoed through the floorboards. A second later, Sasha burst into the room. She skidded to a halt next to the couch, her eyes wide. “Wynne, you’re back. Oh, thank the Goddess.”

  She threw her arms around Wynne and hugged her close. After a long moment, Sasha broke away, her attention flicking to Damian before returning to Wynne. “What’s going on down here? I can hear you two yelling from the other end of the house.”

  Neira uncurled on the couch, the movement catching Wynne’s attention. The cat morphed into her human form and continued her stretch, legs unfolding over the cushions and arms shooting over her head. “I’m glad you’re back, Wynne, but bad timing, Sasha. You interrupted a good argument. Could’ve used some popcorn.”

  Damian growled and brooded into the fireplace.

  Sasha glanced around the room. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Still in the Otherworld.” Wynne paced to the sideboard, knelt, and picked up a few pieces of mail. Keeping busy helped calm her nerves. “Damian left her there.”

  He crossed his arms. “Because you struggled. What was I supposed to do, take her instead of you?”

  “Popcorn, oh yeah.” Neira laughed.

  “That’s it. I’m headed for the shower. Don’t worry. I’ll use the guest one reserved for the gargoyles.” Damian marched from the room, his back stiff.

  Wynne exhaled, the weight on her shoulders heavy and smothering. She hated to argue with Damian, and he didn’t deserve her ire. At one time, she’d thought she’d fallen for him. He was a good
man and had done what he believed was right. How could she blame him for that?

  Sasha placed her hand on Wynne’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  Wynne rose and set the mail on the table’s polished surface. “Yeah, for the most part.”

  “How’s Mom?” Sasha whispered.

  Wynne glanced at her sister. Sasha’s eyes tracked back and forth as she studied her, worry embedded in her pinched features.

  “She’s not well. Her illness has progressed, and I fear she doesn’t have much time. Wait…” An idea brewed in Wynne’s mind, the pieces coming together like a puzzle. Hope, tiny and tender, burst to life in her heart.

  She clutched Sasha’s arm. “I found a spell that can heal Mom, but it’s slow to act. Help me make a fast-acting trigger potion. Between the two, Mom might have a chance.”

  Wynne yanked open the door on the sideboard and grasped a bowl and several bottles of herbs, tonics, and elixirs. One of the bottles threatened to overturn, but she caught it before the thing spilled onto the rug. She handed a few to her sister then carried the rest to the coffee table.

  “Where did you find it?” Sasha followed, her arms loaded with bottles.

  “I ran across this healing spell in the dark book…”

  Sasha stiffened then placed the bottles on the coffee table. “Dark book?”

  “It’s not what you think. The cover is made of a dark kind of leather, and magic is magic. Dark or light depends on the user and the intent.” Wynne repeated the words her mother had spoken to her. The irony wasn’t lost on her that she had thought the same as Sasha not long ago, and she smiled. “Will you help me?”

  Sasha’s features softened, and she ran her fingers along Wynne’s arm. “Of course. That’s what family does, right? I have to ask, though, how do you plan to give it to her?”

  “Good question. You’re not planning on returning to the Otherworld, are you?” Neira’s brow pinched together, and she tucked her legs under her bottom into a cross-legged sitting position on the cushion.

  Tension tightened at the base of Wynne’s neck, and she glanced at her bracelet. Indeed, returning to the Otherworld lay forefront in her mind, but how? There must be some way to return to the Otherworld and soon.

  The hard rap of knuckles on wood reverberated down the hall.

  All three glanced toward the hallway. Silence resounded through the room like a death knell.

  After a long moment, Wynne propelled herself forward, her muscles stiff. “I’ll answer it.”

  She reached the front door and peered through the peep hole. Wynne recognized Aveline’s thin frame beneath the council leader’s shawl.

  Wynne’s stomach fluttered. She inhaled a calming breath and yanked open the door. “Grand Mistress. I didn’t expect you.”

  “Of course not, but I’m here now.” Aveline marched past Wynne, her shawl billowing in her wake.

  Wynne chased after her all the way to the living room.

  Aveline’s stern gave traveled over Sasha and Neira, and the Grand Mistress’s nose twitched. “Naturally, an audience.”

  She removed the overcoat’s hood, and the material draped around her shoulders. Bits of her salt and pepper hair stood up on end from the static electricity.

  “No matter.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “They’re welcome to hear the news.”

  “News?” Wynne’s scalp prickled.

  “Why yes, dear.” A smug smile graced her lips. “I’ve come to welcome you as the newest member of the Council of Nine.”

  Wynne inhaled. “You chose me?”

  “You impressed the Council with your intelligence, levelheadedness, and determination. Besides, your mother’s blood and her magic runs deep in you.”

  Wynne gripped Aveline’s arm. “My mother is alive.”

  The elder witch flinched. Her brow furrowed, and she yanked away from Wynne’s grasp. “How is that possible?”

  Words erupted from Wynne on a swift stream. “I was in the Otherworld. She’s captive there, forced to work for Gwawl to keep his captured gargoyles imprisoned. She’s ill. Zain, a good fae, helped me find a potion to heal her and—”

  Aveline held up her hand.

  Wynne’s throat constricted, cutting off her voice.

  “There are no good fae.” Aveline scrutinized Wynne’s features, and her lip twisted into a sneer.

  “You have to believe her, Grand Mistress.” Sasha rushed next to Wynne and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

  Aveline lowered her hand, but her sneer remained.

  Wynne dragged in cool, refreshing air, and forced herself to relax. She hated Aveline’s prejudice.

  “How well do you know this fae? You said his name was Zain?” Aveline trailed a long fingernail over her star emblem brooch.

  Wynne curled her fingers into a fist so hard her nails dug into the flesh of her palm. A swell of electrical energy crackled in the air, and the chandelier swung from its post.

  “Long enough to see the good in his heart,” she spat.

  Aveline’s sneer deepened. “He seduced you, didn’t he?”

  Wynne raised her chin and focused on the elder witch. “I willingly slept with him.”

  Aveline sniffed and adjusted her shawl. “I’m not surprised. Like mother, like daughter.”

  An emotional slap of raw heat raced across Wynne’s cheeks. The prickled sting threatened to bring tears to her eyes, but she refused to show this biased female how much her comments hurt. “You knew about my mother?”

  “She told me about the fae shortly before she disappeared and said he was no longer in her life. I often wondered if she’d left with him.”

  Neira rose from her seat, her nostrils flaring. She jerked her head toward the elder witch. “Want me to kick her out?”

  “I’ll help you.” Sasha stepped forward.

  Wynne held up her hand. “Stop, both of you.”

  Her arms quivered. It took all of her self-control to fight her rage. As much as she loathed Aveline’s discrimination, she refused to resort to violence. Wynne pointed toward the door. “I think you should leave.”

  “Yes, I couldn’t agree more, but before I go, there’s something I absolutely must do.” Aveline wrinkled her nose. “As Grand Mistress of the Chicago coven, I hereby revoke the council’s offer and strip you of your head of household status.”

  A buzz started in Wynne’s ear, and white spots, born of anger, formed in her vision. She opened her mouth to speak, but her mouth was too dry.

  “How dare you!” Sasha roared.

  Neira hissed.

  Aveline pointed at Sasha. “Watch yourself, witch. As a sorry replacement, the head of household status falls on your shoulders, but I can just as easily remove the Becknell clan from the coven altogether. I’ve a mind to do exactly that. Don’t tempt me further.”

  Wynne placed her arm in front of Sasha, blocking her from attempting anything they all might regret. “Shall I walk you to the door, Grand Mistress?”

  The sarcasm lay thick and heavy between them.

  Aveline’s gaze drifted from Neira to Sasha before resting on Wynne. “I know the way out.”

  She tightened her grip on her star emblem and turned on the ball of her foot. Her shawl caught the current of her wake and billowed behind her.

  Sasha trailed after her to the hallway. She shook her hand. “I’m going to give the council a piece of my mind!”

  The front door slammed and shook the walls.

  Neira hissed. “I’m inclined to shift and walk in her path. To see her sprawled on the ground—”

  “Neira. That’s enough.” Wynne wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. “We have more important tasks at hand.”

  “Fine. I think I’ll go hunt down Damian. I’ll bet he’s done with his shower. Maybe he needs help dressing.” With a skip in her step, Neira left the room.

  Wynne tracked to the coffee table and sat on the couch. A hard knot of determination coiled at the base of her spine. She grabbed the bottle of tonic
and poured some into the bowl. A puff of steam rose from the surface. She wasn’t sure how she’d return to the Otherworld, but she’d have the potion ready once she figured out a way.

  Sasha settled next to her on the couch. “You’re making the potion for Mom?”

  Wynne nodded and snatched a blue bottle filled with a mixture of snakeskin oil, hemlock, and toadstools that rested on the coffee table.

  Her sister scooted forward on the cushion. “How can I help?”

  Wynne gripped the syringe and squeezed a few drops into the mixture. She furrowed her brow and glanced at the remaining vials. “Where’s the hog’s tail elixir?”

  “It’s in the kitchen. I used that bottle to perfect my spell to send Damian to the Otherworld.” Sasha rose from the couch and bolted from the room.

  The muscles in Wynne’s entire body tightened. Sasha had transported Damian there? The ramifications swept through Wynne’s mind on a whirlwind. So engrossed in all the events, she’d missed Damian’s reference to magic when she’d asked him how he’d entered the Otherworld.

  Bubbles formed in the bowl. One popped and the liquid dripped over the side, dragging Wynne from her shock. She placed a shaky finger to her lips. Could Sasha do it again?

  A kernel of doubt sprouted in Wynne’s stomach. Her sister was still at a level three. Transportation to someplace like that horrible fae realm must require a level five, at least. The shoot grew, roots burying deeper.

  No. Wynne ground her teeth and stomped on the doubt, crushing the little bud into oblivion. Sasha would return Wynne to the Otherworld. If she’d done it once, she could do it again.

  “Here it is.” Sasha emerged into the living room carrying a satchel. She untied the end, pinched some of the ground hair, skin, and bone between her fingers, and held it over the potion. “How much do you need?”

  The confidence in Sasha’s gaze warmed Wynne’s heart. “Three pinches will do.”

  Focused on her task and lips pursed with determination, Sasha cast the required amount into the bowl.

  “Sasha.” Wynne’s voice broke.

  Sasha’s attention flicked to Wynne. Her brows furrowed. “What is it?”