by Bianca D'Arc
Had his voice just cracked with emotion? Sweet Mother of All. What was happening here?
“I’m getting in the car, and I’ll be right there. Watch for me. It’ll take about fifteen minutes, and then, we’ll talk, okay? Just hold on for another fifteen minutes and don’t step beyond the ward. There might still be danger out there, lurking in the trees.”
“Uh, Dad?” How to explain Mark and his friends prowling in the woods? It was probably okay to at least mention their presence. He’d see them anyway when he got here. Probably.
“Yes, honey?” She could hear him moving around as if he was getting into the car. He must be on his cell.
“There are some people in the yard around my house, but they’re friends. I met someone last week at that fundraiser, and he and I have been working together. He stationed some of his friends around my house, to sort of keep an eye on things after…well, after what happened at the dinner.”
“You mean the dinner where some jackass took a shot at Mark Pepard?”
Her father might not have as much money as he used to, but he still kept up with current events in their social circles. Plus, that had been front page news, though her involvement had been kept mercifully out of the papers. Probably thanks to Mark, she realized now.
“Yeah. Mark asked me to design some structures for a project he’s involved in. We’ve been working together pretty closely for the past couple of days.”
“Mark Pepard?” Her father’s voice took on a serious, low tone. “Honey, do you know what he is?”
“Um…”
“Oh, dear Goddess,” her father breathed over the line. He paused then seemed to gather himself. “Is he there now?”
“Uh…yeah.” She felt safe to say that much, though it certainly sounded like her father knew exactly who and what Mark was. How in the world…?
“Okay. Sit tight. I’m on my way,” her father told her. She could hear his car moving in the background. He was already driving. “Nobody will be able to cross the ward until I reset it. Don’t let him try.”
“He did, but it didn’t shock him. It just didn’t let him in,” she told her dad.
“Really?” Now, her father sounded intrigued. “Hmm. Well, that’s a good sign. You said there were more of his people out there with him?”
“Yeah, and some local…um…friends, who’ve been supplementing his security team. They’ve been here a couple of days.” She could still hardly believe this conversation. Not only did her dad know about magic, but he seemed to know about Mark.
“Good gracious. What in the world did you get mixed up in?” He seemed almost as if he was talking to himself, so she didn’t answer. “Never mind. I’ll be there in a few minutes and we can sort this all out. Shelly, did Pepard see the sparks? Did he see you use your magic?”
“Yeah, Dad. He saw.” If Mark hadn’t seen it this time, he’d certainly gotten a good view on the island. Mark had been the one to recognize the magic for what it was, while she’d still been in denial.
Her father sighed again. “I guess it couldn’t be helped. No matter. Pepard has enough secrets of his own. I doubt he’ll be spilling yours to all and sundry.”
“No, Dad. He wouldn’t do that,” she felt compelled to defend him.
“Oh, bright Lady, you’re not involved with him, are you?”
Shelly cringed. She wasn’t sure what her dad was going to say to this, but she had to tell him the truth.
“Um… Yeah, I guess you could say we’re involved.”
“Dear, oh, dear.” That was an expression her mother used to use. To hear her father say, it now brought back memories. “Do you know if he’s serious?”
“Yeah, I think he is. But I guess you can talk to him when you get here. He’s outside again. I’m going to walk to the door and let him know you’re coming so he can tell his guys to expect you, okay?” Shelly got up and took the phone with her to the door.
Mark had reappeared at the barrier, buttoning the shirt he must’ve discarded in a hurry when he’d seen she needed help. He was dressed again in no time, and she was glad he would be presentable when her father arrived. The situation was complicated enough.
“Hold on for a minute, Dad,” she told her father, then leaned out the door to talk to Mark. “My dad is on his way in. You might want to tell your friends. He’s probably driving an old silver Rolls. He says he will reset the ward when he gets here but that I shouldn’t step outside the boundary until everything is secure.” She could hardly believe she was having this conversation—talking about magic as if she was discussing the latest news. Could her life get any weirder?
Mark’s eyebrows rose as she delivered that last bit. Yeah, he’d figured it out. Her dad knew about magic.
“Sounds like we’ll all have a lot to discuss,” was Mark’s only comment.
William Howell the Fourth was nothing like Mark had expected. If he’d had the time or inclination to read the detailed dossier he was certain his people had put together on the entire Howell family, complete with photos, he probably would have been better prepared. Mark had wanted to learn about his mate and her family more naturally, through interaction.
Of course, circumstances had conspired against his plan, and events had accelerated the natural progression. The man who drove up in a vintage Rolls looked a lot younger than Mark had anticipated. He gave the appearance of being a much older brother, not the father with the rather intimidating name.
He stepped out of the Rolls easily, his gait that of a much younger man. He had energy to spare, it seemed. And the warning twinkle in his eye as their gazes met wasn’t entirely friendly. Oh, yeah. There was the protective dad side, for sure.
Mark met him in the driveway, holding out a hand in greeting. “You must be Mr. Howell. I’m Mark Pepard.”
“Call me Bill,” Shelly’s father said in a firm voice as their hands met. And there it was. The telltale tingle of magic.
Mark tilted his head in an inquisitive motion but said nothing about the little spark that had just passed between their hands. “Please call me Mark,” he said, instead, hoping to keep this first encounter with his mate’s father on friendly footing.
Bill stepped back and looked at the house. Shelly stood in the entry, and he winked at her, Mark saw. The man had very expressive sparkling blue eyes. He saw now where Shelly got at least part of her good looks from.
“Stay right where you are, sweet pea,” Bill told Shelly. “This won’t take but a moment.”
And with that, he lifted both hands in the air and chanted a few words under his breath that even Mark with his shifter hearing couldn’t distinguish. He felt the rising magic, though. It was powerful and intense.
As fast as it rose, it fell again, as if the invisible dome that had encircled the house suddenly rose and collapsed into a tiny circle in the ground around the perimeter of the structure. Son of a… Mark realized the ward had been there all along. Shelly’s dad had been looking out for her, and her property, even though she didn’t know anything about magic.
For Mark was still sure Shelly hadn’t been faking. She wasn’t some witch in hiding. She had truly not known about shifters or magic, or anything remotely paranormal before their first encounter.
Her father now… He was another story.
“Very neat work,” Mark commented as Bill dropped his hands back to his sides. He nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment.
“Shall we adjourn to the living room?” Bill invited, as if he was hosting this little party.
Mark motioned for him to go first, which he did, while Mark gave an imperceptible hand signal to his team. They would be on watch. Most of them were okay, though drained. The magic had bound them, and their struggles against it had taken a lot out of them all, but they’d be okay until the werewolves he’d asked for backup arrived. They’d be here any minute, and then, there would be fresh troops in the woods, watching the house.
Bill walked right up to his daughter and gave her a big hug before they
said anything to each other. Mark admired the deep emotion in the gesture. It was clear they cared for one another. Good. That was healthy. He’d been afraid that the father had kept Shelly in the dark all these years because they didn’t get along, but it looked to be the opposite.
After all, he’d come running at the first sign of trouble. Bill, so far, impressed Mark as a good dad.
When the hug ended, Shelly turned and let them into the house, heading straight for the living room. She sat on the couch, and her astute father sat opposite in a wing chair, leaving the spot next to her open for Mark to take…if he dared. He didn’t back down from the challenge. He sat, a small declaration of intent.
“First of all, let me say how happy I am to finally be able to share the wider world with you, Shelly,” her father said before anyone else could speak.
“Why didn’t you before? Why did you keep me in the dark my whole life?” Shelly sounded hurt, as she probably should be. Mark wanted to know the answer to that question, as well. Everything else could wait until she got that answer.
Bill sighed elegantly. “The Howells have a long tradition of magic, going back thousands of years. Occasionally, in our family history, a child is born with no magic. They were called latent by one of our ancestors in the family chronicles, because no Howell can be completely without magic. It’s part of our DNA. But, as I said, there are historical accounts of the occasional latent Howell. In times past, there were enough Howells to keep those few safe, but now, it’s you and me, sweet pea, and since your mother’s death, I’ve always feared I wouldn’t be able to keep you safe. All I ever wanted was to keep my precious daughter away from those who would use her against me. I’ve been nearly bankrupting myself all these years trying to keep you safe, Shelly.”
“So, that’s why…” Shelly whispered.
“I didn’t want to drive a wedge between us, my dear. It was necessary to keep a certain distance so my enemies wouldn’t see you as too tempting a target. All the same, I put whatever protections I could around you at all times. Hence, the ward on your house.” He nodded toward the window. “You have no idea how relieved I am that you’re all right.”
“Dad, that ward thing… That was awesome. It protected me and the house completely,” Shelly enthused.
“I’m glad. That was my intent. I have spent years learning ward-craft, and that was some of my finest work, if I do say so myself, though it hadn’t been fully tested until tonight,” Bill admitted.
Mark’s ears perked up. “Fully tested? You mean it’s been triggered before?”
Bill’s eyes shuttered. “On occasion, a few of my more perceptive enemies have tried small forays to test my mettle. They all failed.”
“And are all dead, I presume?” Mark asked the harsh question, hoping to evoke a response. What he got in return was everything he had hoped for. Bill’s blue eyes went steely.
“Of course. Magic users don’t screw around. You’re either good or bad, and there is no in between. The Howells have always stood on the side of Light. We are sworn to the Goddess, through and through. Any agent of evil who threatens me or mine is fair game. Now, tell me, Alpha, which side does the jaguar stand on?”
Mark reared back, unable to hide his reaction. The jaguars were among the most secretive of shifters. Only the pantera noir were better at hiding in plain sight than he was. Or so he’d thought. Obviously, this mage had better sources of intel than Mark had credited.
“I, and my Clan, are sworn to the Light of the Mother of All,” Mark answered finally, deciding on the direct approach. Who knew how Howell would react to any attempt at subterfuge when his beloved daughter’s destiny was in question.
“Good. Good.” Howell was all smiles as he relaxed fractionally. Mark noticed that quick unclenching of muscles and wondered what the man would have done if Mark had said something else. “I like what I’m hearing. And I must thank you for watching over my daughter. The ward was designed to alert me about trouble, with the idea that I could race right over and deal with it. I assume you’ve…dealt with the problem already?” Now those blue eyes were coaxing, as if he already knew or suspected the answer but wanted official confirmation.
“With tooth and claw,” Mark confirmed, nodding gravely. The green plasma mage had tasted sickly. Evil.
“I would like to examine any…uh…remains, if possible,” Bill asked politely.
Mark nodded. “That can be arranged. He disabled a number of my people with the dark fog, and I have backup already on the way. In fact, they should be here by now. My folk haven’t done anything with the remains yet but guard them. We’re stretched too thin for comfort until the cavalry arrives.”
“Understood,” Bill replied quickly, with an accommodating demeanor. “Perhaps, if possible then, I might get a look in situ, as it were.” The older man rose fluidly from his wing chair and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“My people saw you arrive,” Mark called after him. “They’ll stay out of your way.”
“Of course they will, dear boy,” Bill said on his way out, almost smiling.
Mark’s eyebrows rose, then he looked at Shelly’s equally stunned face. “He’s got brass ones, your father, if you’ll pardon the expression.”
Shelly laughed out loud. “He always has. Nobody gets in his way, and if they try, he merely charms them away. He’s always had that magic touch.” She sat back on the couch, staring straight ahead. “Huh.” Shaking her head, she turned to look at him. “I guess it really was magic, after all.”
“I can’t believe he was able to keep you in the dark all these years about your family history.” Mark slid one arm around her shoulders and leaned back, content just to have her near.
“Neither can I. Though…” She squirmed closer into his embrace, and his inner cat purred. “Now that I understand a little more, I think I might’ve seen the signs occasionally. He had weird friends when I was little. Flamboyant old women who wore turbans and—”
“Now, don’t speak ill of the dead, Shelly, or your great aunties might just come back from the next realm to haunt you. It’s been known to happen in our family on rare occasions.” Her father walked back into the room, adjusting his shirtsleeve, urbane and collected, even after seeing what Mark had done to the bastard who had dared to attack his mate. The cat had reveled in ripping him apart.
“Aunt Bernie and Auntie Francine!” Shelly sat upright, surprise on her face. “I remember them now. I was really little when they stopped coming around. They used to bring me treats from their travels. Sweet candies from around the world. What happened to them? I guess I didn’t realize they were dead.”
“It happened right around the time your dear mother was taken from us,” her father said in a solemn tone. “Both of my father’s sisters were killed in what was later described as a ferocious magical battle in which the side of Light was woefully underrepresented. Many good people died that day in the ongoing war between good and evil.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Shelly said, her face reflecting her sorrow.
“They were the last of us, except for you and me, Shelly. We’re the bitter end of a thousand year magical line.” He retook his seat on the wing chair. “I feared it would end with me, but now, it looks like you have finally come into your birthright, so perhaps the name will disappear, but the magic will live on.” He sighed dramatically. “Very thorough job on the enemy, by the way, Mark. Well done.” He looked directly at Mark. “You may want to warn your people and their backup to steer clear of the remains, though. They will require special handling. This man was one nasty piece of work, whoever he was.”
“You didn’t recognize him then?” Mark asked.
“Never seen him before. What can you tell me about him?” Bill was all business now.
“He seems to have been an associate of the man who tried to shoot me the other day. Because your daughter had coincidentally shared a cab with the man from the hotel to the venue, she was dragged in for
questioning by my security. Once I realized she had nothing to do with the assassination attempt, I sent her on her way, but not before setting up surveillance, just in case.”
“You also requested a meeting with me the next day, as I recall,” Shelly put in with a smile, reaching out to take his hand in her. His inner cat wanted to pounce on her in happiness. She was staking a claim—a subtle one, but still a claim—in front of her father. Nice.
“As it turned out, I’m glad I took the precaution of calling in help from the Midtown wolf Pack. They were able to help Shelly when the mage confronted her in the hotel hallway and then followed her into the elevator.”
“What did he want?” Bill asked Shelly directly.
“He was asking about his friend. The guy who had taken a shot at Mark. I told him I didn’t know the man and basically told him to get lost, but he was very insistent. Actually, he was a little scary there toward the end, but then, the hotel staff—who I now assume were Mark’s people or allies—stepped in and breezed me out of there.” Shelly frowned. “His name was Anthony Mason. He told me that at the hotel. But tonight he said some things…”
“He spoke to you?” Mark asked, his inner cat wanting to pounce on any information that might help him keep his mate safe.
“I was up in my studio and he walked right up to the ward. I didn’t think he saw me, but he did. He looked right at me as he told me he had been given the task of killing you, Mark, by someone he called the Destroyer of Worlds.” She shook her head. “Isn’t that what the Hindus call Shiva?”
Mark felt dread fill his stomach. He looked over at Bill and he was scowling, his handsome face contorted in concern.
“Many, many years ago, there was a great battle between the forces of Light and the servants of Elspeth, Destroyer of Worlds,” Bill intoned, as if sharing an ancient tale. Which he was, come to think of it. Mark knew it, but he knew Shelly had no clue.
“But Elspeth was banished to the forgotten realms, never to return,” Mark said, looking at Bill now for confirmation.