Moonlit Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  He popped his head back in the room and pinned his fiancée with a glare. “I’ll give you old,” he growled before he disappeared again. Their teasing was enough to break the somberness.

  * * *

  As Rafe observed the family laughing and interacting, he was struck by a deep sense of rightness. The love, compassion, and understanding this group continually exhibited were awe-inspiring. Never once had he seen a break in their loyalty to one another. This was the model he wished his own family adhered to, although they never would. The Champeaus subscribed to the “every witch for themself” motto. Any humanity Rafe had flowing through him was from the Xuereb side.

  He caught Ryker’s eye and gestured to a private corner of the room.

  “What’s up?”

  “Marguerite. The other day, GiGi stated you patched things up with her. How sure are you she isn’t still holding a grudge?”

  His eyes following his wife from across the room, Ryker shrugged. “I can’t be positive, Rafe. Marguerite seemed regretful, but it could very well have been an act on her part. Of course, she believed I was most likely going to my death for supposedly murdering Georgie Sipanil.” He gave Rafe his full attention. “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m surprised Alastair hasn’t told you.”

  “Oh, he has, but I’m asking you. I’d like your take on all of this.”

  Rafe weighed how much to reveal. He greatly suspected Ryker knew almost everything there was to know about him, such were the resources of a spymaster. Going by a gut feeling, Rafe went with honesty. “Marguerite is my cousin. She’s always been mean spirited and spiteful if she doesn’t get her way.” When Ryker didn’t bat an eyelash at the confession, Rafe continued. “We know for sure Franco Moreau was posing as Franklin Moore to get close to Liz. We don’t have exact confirmation on who his cohorts are. Like Alastair, I strongly suspect the Champeaus, based on what Franco’s hired goon said. Although it’s a possibility he knew who I was and lied to cause trouble.”

  “Al told us Isis clearly stated ‘a new threat rises from the old.’ He believes our problems arise from one of the older magical families.” Ryker crossed his arms and scrubbed a hand along his jawline. “The Champeaus are an ancient line, like the Thornes and the Dethridges. If Alastair’s right, it has to be from one of those three. It’s hard to believe Damian would orchestrate this attack since he so recently helped Liz and Al. And considering all the Thornes we’ve contacted are affected by this, I feel they can be ruled out as well. The only remaining family would be the Champeaus.”

  Neither man heard Spring approach, and they both startled when she spoke. “Wrong. There were six original families according to our family grimoire.” She ticked them off on her fingers as she said, “Thorne, Dethridge, Champeau, O’Malley, Carlyle, and Drake. None are as plentiful as us, or for that matter as powerful, with the exception of Damian Dethridge. Knox doesn’t count, because the main source of his power was gifted to him from Isis.”

  They stared in amazement. Spring was like an encyclopedia of witchcraft.

  Ryker was the first to speak. “I say we rule out Sebastian Drake. He’s become a friend to this family. I can’t imagine he’d ever strike against us. Obviously, the Thornes and Carlyles are related in some way or another. So the possible suspects are Dethridge, O’Malley, and Champeau.”

  “The O’Malleys lost their magic to a family feud about two hundred and fifty years ago.”

  Rafe shook his head in wonder. How the hell did she retain all this information?

  “In that case, I suspect we can rule out Damian, too. That brings us back to our original suspects. It would make sense since the Moreaus and Champeaus are cousins. Seems old Petey might’ve been telling the truth after all.” Rafe ran a hand along the back of his neck and wished to hell there was another. Anyone but those related to him. “They are not opposed to using black magic to get what they want.”

  “And what’s that?” Spring asked.

  Rafe shared a look with Ryker. They both knew the truth from their years working for the Council. “Ultimate control of the witch community,” he finally said. “They want to be viewed with respect, but they tend to go about it the wrong way.”

  Ryker nodded as if to confirm Rafe’s statement.

  “Why? And why come after my family? It isn’t as if we are heavily involved in running the Witches’ Council.” Spring was adorable in her confusion. Her heart so pure, it was difficult for her to imagine why anyone wanted to cause destruction to their way of life.

  Knox joined their group in time to hear the last half of their conversation. “Some people have dark souls, sweetheart.”

  “You’ll go with Uncle Alastair, Rafe, and Liz should the spell in the clearing not work?” she asked prettily.

  “You know I won’t leave you unprotected.”

  “But, Knox—”

  “No.” Lightning flashed outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the thunderous boom that followed had all the family members present turning in their direction. Knox smiled tightly and waved.

  Spring buried a giggle behind her hand. “Way to freak them all out, darling.”

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  Rafe shook his head and met Liz’s curious gaze from across the room. He winked to show things were truly under control.

  “Back to the subject at hand. I think it might be a smart idea to see if a record exists, detailing the lineage of the original families. There could be a disgruntled family member from any of these lines, and we need to rule them out going forward.” Ryker’s expression was grim, and Rafe suspected he was remembering the time when a member of Alastair’s own family was in league with their enemy against them.

  “Do you think the Council would let us take a peek, Gillespie?”

  Ryker shook his head. “Doubtful. Perhaps if we approached Georgie Sipanil separately.”

  “No need to bother Georgie,” Spring informed them with a bright smile. “Uncle Alastair has sixteen volumes in his library. They have every recorded witch and warlock birth since the beginning of time. He once told me he started collecting and compiling more when he returned from the Otherworld.”

  “Clever girl.” Ryker smiled his admiration of his niece by marriage. “It may take a while, but let’s go see what we can discover.”

  Chapter 17

  Their small group poured over the books, each jotting down a note here or there in regards to the ruling families. They’d been at it for a good thirty minutes when Rafe felt a steady gaze on him. He glanced up to see Spring staring at him with a contemplative look in her eyes.

  “Does Liz know?”

  His heart began to hammer. “Know what?”

  “Who you truly are?”

  “Who do you believe me to be?” he asked softly.

  Spring turned the journal in her hands toward him. His family tree was clearly on display. “Don’t play games, Rafe. Your mother is Josephine Champeau.” Her expression darkened. “Sister to Pierre Champeau and sister-in-law to Élise Moreau-Champeau. Élise happens to be sister to Louie Moreau, father of Franco.”

  Knox’s head lifted the second he heard his girlfriend’s tone harden, but he remained silent and watchful.

  “Yes, Franco is my cousin by marriage. No, Liz doesn’t know.”

  A gasp from behind him told him that had just changed. He closed his eyes against the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

  “Rafe?”

  Liz stood directly behind him, but coward that he was, he couldn’t turn around to face her. All he’d worked to build was about to crumble at his feet. He couldn’t bear to witness her anger and suspicion, not after her sweet declaration of love.

  “Can you all give us the room, please?” she asked in a dull, pain-filled voice.

  With his elbows on the table, Rafe rested his chin atop his folded hands and waited. It didn’t take long once the door closed behind Ryker, Spring, and Knox. Liz settled in Spring’s abandoned chair and studied the chart on the page i
n front of her. Without looking at him, she asked, “How could you keep something this monumental from me?”

  “Does it have to be?”

  “Have to be what?”

  “Monumental?” He dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets and inhaled a long breath.

  “Are you serious right now?”

  He met her wounded eyes. “Qalbi, it’s an accident of birth. No more, no less.”

  “How do I know you aren’t working with him to bring down my family? How, Rafe?”

  “Is that what you think of me?”

  She threw up her hands. “Not before this moment, no. But what am I supposed to believe now? You lied to me.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Oh, come on! A lie of omission is still a lie any way you look at it, babe.”

  “No, Liz, it isn’t.” He rose and rounded the table to squat next to her chair. “I was an elder for the Council. Part of those duties included spying. It’s second nature to hide who I am to protect those I care about. My relationship to Franco has no bearing on my feelings for you.” He studied her closed expression and prayed to the Goddess she would understand. “Please, qalbi. Please know it wasn’t intentional.”

  “At any time over the last two months I was dating him, you could’ve told me you were related. Honestly, the ew factor is high here. I kissed him, for fuck’s sake! It’s practically incestuous.”

  “Incestuous would make him your cousin, not mine.” He almost laughed at her indignation. Not quite, but almost. The desire was strong when her eyes flashed fire. His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Besides, he and I aren’t blood-related, and the quick pecks you gave him were not real kisses. Nothing like what we’ve shared.”

  “And what if Franco and I had gotten farther along in our intimacies?”

  Again, his desire to laugh was strong. She sounded like an outraged maiden, and he knew she was far from that. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “You were never going to get to that stage with him or anyone, qalbi. Remember the spell I cast to drive men away?” Rafe allowed a small smirk. “I doubled up on Franco.”

  “I thought that was only for Franco!” She shoved him—hard.

  Landing on his ass, he let loose a groan.

  “Oh!” Liz came out of the chair and knelt beside him. “Are you okay?”

  Wrapping his arms around her, he tumbled them both onto the oversized French Aubusson rug. “I am now.”

  She lay beneath him with her golden hair spread around her like a halo. The deep pink of her parted lips was rivaled by the flush on her cheeks. But it was her amber eyes, so bright and focused on him, that held him captive. Had she truly been hurt or disillusioned with him, they would’ve darkened to a burnt umber color.

  “Forgive me, qalbi. My family connections aren’t what’s important here. You are. If I lost your love…” He swallowed past the lump forming in his throat and let his eyes speak the words he couldn’t voice.

  Miracle of miracles, her expression eased, and she traced a fingertip over his lower lip. “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “I’m not sure. I can’t quite think when you touch me that way.”

  Her light laugh chased away the last of his worry. They would be all right. They had to be. Without her, life was a dull, endless stream of nothingness. Not even the spy game could keep his interest.

  The amusement vanished from her face. “I mean it, Rafe. No more lies. Not on purpose, and not by omission.”

  “My family could very well be behind what’s happening with yours, Liz. But I can promise you, I have nothing to do with any of this and knew even less than nothing prior to discovering Franco was behind it.” He sat up and pulled her with him. “Marguerite Champeau is my cousin as well. She may also be involved.”

  “What will you do if it comes down to my family or yours, Rafe? Make no mistake, if more than just Franco is behind this, we will be at war. Whose side will you take in the feud?”

  “Yours,” he assured her. “Always yours.”

  She closed her eyes and dropped her forehead against his chest. “I’d hoped you’d say that.”

  When Rafe would’ve kissed her, a muffled sound came from the other side of the study door. “What the hell?”

  “My cousins are notorious for listening in on conversations. Usually, they scry, but since their magic is gone, I imagine it’s lurking at keyholes now.” Liz placed her index finger against her lip and rose to her feet. As silently as a cat, she padded to the door and whipped it open.

  Sure enough, three of the four Thorne sisters stumbled into the room.

  “What do you busybodies have to say for yourself?” Liz’s voice was as stern as a schoolmarm.

  Spring and Winnie had the grace to look embarrassed, but Autumn simply shrugged and said, “Hallmark.”

  Having no idea what it meant, Rafe was confused when the women began laughing. He rolled to his feet and gestured to the table with a thumb over his shoulder. “Now that you’re all here and apparently looking for something productive to do, how about we finish going through these books to write down possible magic-stealing suspects?”

  Liz whipped back around to stare. “I thought you were positive Franco masterminded this whole thing?”

  “Have you met that weasel? He couldn’t mastermind his way out of a cardboard box.”

  She covered her mouth to stifle her amusement. When she had control, she crossed to the table and took a seat. “Let’s figure out who is in charge.”

  From his vantage point in the loft, Alastair watched the next generation of Thornes and their significant others where they were gathered around the gleaming hardwood meeting table in his study. They occasionally talked over each other as they learned new information. Each one excited to discover more about the descendants of the first six families.

  “I suspect you know exactly who is behind this, darling. Why are you letting them waste their time?”

  He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at his future bride. All these years later, and his Rorie still understood him better than any other living soul. Looking away from her delicate beauty was difficult, but he managed with a tilt of his chin toward the group. “Watch.”

  For a few minutes, they remained silent as they observed the others.

  “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

  “They are developing a camaraderie, my love. Learning to work as a unit and to depend on one another. It will serve them well after we’re gone.”

  One of her black brows lifted, and her sky-blue eyes took on a light of curiosity. “Are we planning on dying anytime soon?”

  He leaned sideways and placed a lingering kiss on her rosebud mouth. “Would I willingly give this up?”

  “You had me worried there for a moment, you old rogue.”

  He felt his lips twitch, and he gathered her close.

  She tilted her head back to study him. “Are you feeling sentimental, darling?”

  “Maybe a little.” He sighed and released her to rest an elbow on the railing. “I can’t explain what it was like to feel helpless, Rorie. To not have an inkling of what people were thinking or feeling. It was a wake-up call.” He shook his head, but kept his gaze focused on Rafe. “I wasn’t sure until today that I could trust him one-hundred percent, and I didn’t like the uncertainty.”

  “He loves her, Alastair. He would never do anything to hurt her or, by extension, us.”

  “I know.”

  “What did Damian say about the spell from the Book of Shadows?”

  “It’s a straightforward ceremony for him. Apparently, he doesn’t need anyone else’s help to raise and draw from the magic of the standing stones. He also made sure to tell me in no uncertain terms he wasn’t happy to be returning so soon since he just settled Sabrina in bed for the night.”

  “I remember when Summer and Holly were babies. You were a virtual bear if someone woke them after you’d put them down.”

  “Remember how easily Preston was ab
le to soothe Summer when neither of us could?” Even he heard the sadness in his own voice. Goddess, he missed his brother. Sure, they’d been at odds for a great many years, but even in the midst of their war with each other, they always had each other’s backs against the outside world.

  “Darling, you’re frightening me. First, you speak of our eventual demise, then this talk of Preston. What’s gotten into you?”

  “We live longer than mere mortals, Rorie. Do you ever get tired? Wonder if it’s natural for us to survive to the ripe old age we do? Why are we graced with all we are when there is true suffering in the world?”

  “Are you saying we’ve never suffered?” Her tone took on a harsh quality, and Aurora’s irritation could be felt in the farthest depths of Alastair’s cells. “I’ll call bullshit on that. We both suffered plenty. I missed out on nearly two decades of my children’s lives. And you, beyond all reason and hope, visited and cared for my shell of a body. Every bloody day of every bloody year for all that time. What is that if not suffering?”

  “Please calm yourself, my love. I’m not ungrateful for what we have. I’m simply expressing my fatigue at yet another battle to keep it.” He embraced her and chuckled when she half-heartedly shoved at his chest. “Too piqued for a little kiss?”

  “You don’t deserve one, you wretch. You made me believe you were ready to sacrifice yourself to end it all.”

  “Never. I have a healthy sense of self-preservation. Besides, you’d bring me back to kill me if I don’t make good and marry you after all these years.”

  “Precisely.” She settled her dark head against his shoulder. “Now, tell me what you intend to do to hasten Liz’s and Rafe’s relationship and defeat those horrid, magic-stealing trolls.”

  “Damian will return to activate the stones. Afterwards, it’s up to us to clean this mess up.”

  Her worried blue eyes shifted to the group around the table below. “I worry Liz is too kindhearted to do what must be done.”

  “I don’t. She’s a fire elemental, my love. She has hidden depths.”