Yearning: Enchanting the Shifter (Legacy: A Paranormal Series Book 3)

by Ciana Stone

  I am, beyond all doubt, the most fortunate man to have ever drawn breath to have been loved by Ida Bloom. To have created a child with her.

  Grace. My beautiful Grace. Child of Magic.

  We did not want to label her human or Fae, or that label so many hybrid children are given. Kindred. Meaning related to or sharing kinship. It seems a diminishing term to me, as if those children are less than those who came before them. They are “kin” to but not “one with.”

  Not so for our Grace. She is not less than. She is more. The sum of our parts—that’s our Grace. She got the best of both of us, and so is more.

  I do wonder how long it will take our beautiful child to realize she is the embodiment of magic? Will she be five or fifteen or fifty when she awakens to the beauty and power of her magic? Will I be there to see it?

  Because life is never certain and the future is not set in stone, I am writing this journal. There are many things I want to say to my child and with luck will say them in person. But should her awakening take place after I move to another existence, I will leave this in my stead.

  Grace looked up at Beau. “This is crazy.”

  “Is it your dad’s handwriting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then don’t call it crazy until you’ve read it.”

  “But I’m not magic, Beau. At all. If I was, I’d close my eyes, click my heels or wiggle my nose and wish my family here with me. But all I can do is worry and be afraid.”

  “And read this.” He tapped the journal. “There could be something that will help, Grace. And Severin said the answer to how you connect with your mother is in here.”

  Grace wanted to argue that this was a waste of time and they needed to be doing something to save her family, but she acquiesced and continued to read. The more she read, the faster her eyes moved across the pages.

  “Is this it?” She looked at Beau and he nodded. “I think it might be. You have to try it.”

  “I’d feel silly.”

  “Even if it meant saving your family?”

  That question changed her attitude entirely. It might be bunk, but if there was even a tiny chance that it could work, she had to try.

  “Okay.” She read the page again, then handed Beau the notebook. “It says to have someone read it to me to make it easier.”

  “All right, are you ready?”

  “I think so.”

  Beau scanned the first couple of paragraphs before he started reading and then cleared his throat. “Close your eyes. Okay, Grace, sit back and relax. I want you to think back to when you were a child, playing in the greenhouse while I worked with the plants.

  “You are picking flowers, just one of each kind and adding it to your basket. Can you see the flowers? Look at each one you pick and smell it. Let yourself be there the way you were as a child. Relive the memory and make it real.”

  Beau fell silent, since the instructions said to pause for two to five minutes before continuing. He used his phone timer and at the end of three minutes, started reading again. “Now, if you’re in the memory, think about your mother. Remember how you’d ask me where your mama was? Where’s Mama, Daddy? What would I tell you, Grace?

  “Do you remember? Picture your mama in your mind and when she looks back at you, reach out for her. Call to her.”

  “Mama?” Grace’s voice startled Beau, it was so unexpected. “Mama? Where are you? I need to find you.”

  She fell silent and Beau remained quiet, unsure whether to continue or give her time. A minute passed.

  Grace’s eyes popped open. “I know where they are! I know where they are!” She jumped up and ran into the other room. “I know where they are!”

  Beau followed and she grabbed his hand and hung onto it. “She can see the old sawmill through wooden slats. She thinks they’re in some kind of toolshed The floor is dirt and their hands and feet are tied so she can’t get up but she can see through two of the slats.”

  “Do you know where the sawmill is?” Severin asked Beau.

  “Yes. Woodbine Road, about five miles out of town.”

  “Take us there.”

  “Don’t you want to call the—“ Beau didn’t bother to finish the question. Of course, they didn’t want to call the police. “I can show you how to get there.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Grace insisted.

  “Of course,” Severin agreed. “I need you to stay in touch with your mother and let her know we are on the way. Once we’re there, I’ll give you instructions for her.”

  “I’ll do whatever you need. Can we go now?”

  Beau could feel her eagerness. She was vibrating with raw nerves, fear, and the pressing need to get to her family. He prayed that what they were about to do was a success, because he knew without question that if Grace lost her mother or a child, it would destroy her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ida leaned back and let out a breath of relief. She hadn’t expected this day to come, had given up hoping or dreading that it would, and now that it had, she felt only one thing. Blessed.

  She could feel Grace in her mind. Her beautiful daughter was there. Guided by the words of her father, she’d found Ida and her children and now help was on the way.

  Ida hoped there was strength in the rescuers because the people who had taken her and the children were the most evil beings she’d ever encountered. They served a mistress whose heart was black: Asha Iltani.

  Grayson had told Ida about Asha, about a lot of the people he knew from the other side and where their allegiances lay. He’d warned Ida that this day might come, when the Dark Fae would send their minions. The spell he’d created had been powerful and would last a long time, but it was not what anyone thought it to be.

  Everyone assumed it was a cloaking spell, a way to hide the town from the Dark Fae. That was, she agreed, a silly assumption. The Dark Fae had known about John Legacy and his family for centuries. They’d simply chosen not to move against him because Genevieve Beaudreaux had married him and used him for her own means in service to the Darkness.

  Grayson’s spell was a cloaking enchantment, a spell created to hide Michael’s daughter Elena as well as Ida and Grace. Grayson’s King and brother Michael had Grayson’s sworn promise to create and execute the spell. He knew their enemies in this realm were many and should he fall to them, his family’s bloodline had to continue.

  It would, through Michael’s children, and through Grace and her children. Ida looked at Sherri and Theo, sleeping on the ground beside her, their faces dirty and tear-tracked. Soon she’d have to wake them and hope because of their youth, they would be able to suspend disbelief and tap into their Fae nature.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes, hearing Grace’s voice in her mind. We’re coming, Mama, we’re coming.

  I know, sugar, and I’ll be ready when you get here. I’ll keep your babies safe.

  I love you, Mama.

  I love you, baby.

  Grace kept her eyes closed. She was having a tough time keeping a firm grip on things. Part of her wanted to scream, beat her way out of the vehicle and run as fast as she could, hoping she’d wake from this bizarre dream and find herself in her old room at her mother’s house.

  The things she’d witnessed the last few weeks were so unbelievable that she still had times when she wondered if she’d just lost touch with reality. Was she really living this, or was she strapped to a bed in a loony ward somewhere drooling and rolling her head around while impossible visions played out in her mind?

  That would almost be more believable than what she was living. How could any of this be true? Beau could transform into an animal, there was a Vampire driving the car, and her father was the brother of a man people claimed to be the King of the Fae from another dimension.

  If that were not unbelievable enough, she’d seen Ily turn into a dragon woman, an old woman spew black smoke that Ily swallowed and spit out as light, and she’d mentally communicated with her mother thanks to encouragement fro
m her dead father in a journal he wrote when she was a child.

  Grace looked in Beau’s direction to find him watching her. “I feel like Dorothy.”

  “Looking for the Yellow Brick Road to get to Oz?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Are your mom and children okay?”

  “So far.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, glad they were sitting in the back seat so she could be closer to him. “This feels like a bad dream.”

  “They’re going to be okay, Grace.”

  She nodded and closed her eyes, sending thoughts to her children and telling them over and again how much she loved them and what a great life they were going to have in Legacy with Gran and their friend Mr. Beau.

  Grace knew it was presumptuous, but if she was going to paint a picture of a happy life for her children, Beau had to be part of it.

  Please let it happen, she prayed. Let us save them and save Ily and have a chance at happiness.

  “Turn to the right at the next intersection,” Beau instructed the driver. “The old sawmill will be on the left.” He turned his attention to Grace. “Do you know exactly what your mother can see?”

  “The front. She can see the old sign above the mill. The letters are almost faded away.”

  Beau scanned the right side of the road as the driver made the turn. “It has to be that abandoned house across the road.”

  Beau’s father, John, who sat in the front passenger seat, instructed the driver to turn into the sawmill. They pulled around to the back, parked and waited for the other two vehicles to do the same.

  Everyone got out and listened as John and Severin outlined their plan. Grace was shocked when she heard Severin say her name and everyone looked at her. She’d been so focused on staying connected with her mother that she had not been paying attention to what was being said.

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  “We need you to instruct your mother to add her energy to yours and that of your children and enforce the protection around the building where they are being held.”

  “There’s protection?” Grace was stunned.

  “Yes, your mother and your children have created a shield.”

  “My−children?” At that moment, a gentle breeze could have bowled Grace right over. Since when could her children do anything out of the ordinary?

  “Grace, focus.” Severin directed. “We’re going to protect you, but you’d going to have to be the one to go in after them. You will be able to breach the barrier without harm and without destroying it. Are you listening?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m listening.” Grace wanted to buy into this, but she honestly didn’t believe what he was saying. There was a mistake. Her family couldn’t perform magic.

  Gracie, you need to listen to him. Your daddy would want you to trust him, so do it for him. Do it for me and Sherri and Theo.

  “Grace, we need you to communicate this to your mother. When I give the word, she and your children need to join hands and recite this simple children’s song. ‘Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies.’”

  “’Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.’” Grace recited the end.

  “Yes, but they are not to sing those words until you’ve joined their circle and I give the word. Just the first two lines, over and over and while they recite it, have them imagine that a bubble of light is forming around them, getting brighter and brighter. Can you do that?”

  “I can but—but how will you let me know when to sing the last two lines?”

  “The same way your mother does.” Severin reached out and placed both hands on the sides of her face, lowered his head so that their foreheads were pressed together and whispered softly. “One to one until it’s done.”

  Almost immediately, Grace heard Severin in her mind. Working together, we will secure the safe release of your family, Grace, but we must trust one another.

  “I’ll do whatever you need me to do.” Grace looked over at Beau. “Just promise that whatever happens, you’ll make sure my kids are safe.”

  “You have my word,” Beau said. “So, are you ready?”

  “As I’ll get.”

  At a nod from Severin, Beau continued. “Tell your mother what we need her and the kids to do.”

  Grace nodded and turned to walk away a short distance. Mom?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Beau saw his father stop and sniff the air. Beau had to admit that his father in lion form was a sight to behold. It didn’t surprise him that John had chosen the shape of an African lion—proud, regal, and lethal. It was fitting.

  Beau had chosen to shift into the form of a mountain lion, smaller, but sleeker and faster. Beau looked around at the other shifters, lions and wolves and two bears. They’d paused, awaiting a signal from John before proceeding. They were keeping a respectable distance, following Grace as she made her way across the road and toward the old abandoned farm on the other side.

  It was the dead of night. That phrase seemed so apt this night. The moon was on the wane, with thin clouds diffusing its light. Fog rose around them, lending an almost sinister air. Dead trees and dry brush cast twisted and blurred shadows.

  And the sound. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end and probably would be as a human. The sound rose in the silence, carried on the wind. Children’s voices, two of them, high in pitch, but soft and sweet. A lower, feminine voice carried the undertone, unifying the song.

  “Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies.” Over and over, the verses repeated. To Beau, in cat form, it was a high, thin sound, one that sounded inexplicably eerie, like something from a horror film.

  And in a way, it was a horror. Somewhere the enemy waited. Waited for Beau and his companions to make a move, to try to save Grace’s family. Would they attack Grace, or would they attack the Light Fae who were there to save Grace’s family?

  He turned his attention to Grace, watching as she started up the dirt road. Little puffs of dust kicked up from her footsteps and he could hear the crunch of old gravel and dead leaves beneath her feet.

  Regardless of the people with him and their combined abilities, he was worried about how this night would end and sent a wish to whatever good there was in the universe to protect Grace, her children, and her mother.

  Beau remembered the battles he’d witnessed and participated in. The Umbra were not easily conquered. Sure, the hosts they inhabited could be killed, but that didn’t stop the Umbra. They just found other hosts.

  Grace cut a look back over her shoulder, and he could see the fear on her face. Hell, he could smell it. He wanted to run to her, walk alongside her and guard her, but that wasn’t the plan. This was something she had to do alone.

  After all, she was the bait.

  Grace rubbed her arms, wishing she had on long sleeves. Not that it was cold. Just the opposite. She was sweating with fear, but the sound of her children and her mother’s voice was making gooseflesh rise on her skin. There was a haunting quality to it.

  Or maybe she was simply scared. The night was dark and full of fear and she didn’t have a clue if this crazy plan would work. She didn’t know much of anything except she wanted to get to her family, to put her arms around them and know they were okay. And to get them the hell out of this place.

  The closer she got to the old buildings, the more fearful she became. There was something here. Something evil. Waiting.

  Grace looked at the old house as she walked by it. Was that movement in the dark windows? Shadows within the shadows? Sweat trickled down her back and sides.

  Something dark slithered by her feet and she jumped. Another ribbon of darkness passing in front of her made her jump. What was that and didn’t it, whatever it was, realize she was there?

  The Darkness hasn’t yet realized you’re here. Severin’s voice sounded in her mind. However, I cannot keep you masked indefinitely. You must be swift, Grace.

  It almost made things worse for her to realize that something was out there with her,
looking for her. She had to make it to her family.

  Keep singing, Mama, I’m almost there.

  Grace spotted the old shed next to what appeared to be a barn that had half fallen in. Light seeped out of the cracks of the shed and around the ill-fitting door. Suddenly, dark tendrils appeared, snaking across the ground from every direction. A foul stench rose in the air, making her gag. She picked up her pace and had to stop herself from running the last few steps.

  There was a padlock on the door. It looked fairly new. What didn’t look new were the door and the frame the hasp was screwed into. Grace backed up and kicked the door as hard as she could. The lock gave, but not completely, so she did it again.

  This time the screws tore loose from the rotten wood. The door swung inward. She ran into the shed and saw them. Standing, facing one another, her mother, daughter, and son had their arms stretched out in front of them with their bound hands joined. They were like spokes of a wheel and encompassing their wheel was a glowing bubble of light.

  Grace turned to look out of the door. The tendrils of darkness appeared to be surrounding the shed, but each time one would try to enter, something akin to a minute explosion would occur. Light would flare and the tendril would be obliterated.

  Was it the song that was creating the protection over this place? “Keep singing,” Grace said as she hurried to them and placed her hands on top of theirs. “Keep singing. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  With that, she joined in the song and saw the light brighten. Grace refused to allow herself to think about anything but pouring her energy into the bubble and praying that it held and kept them safe until the others arrived and dealt with the horrors out there, hiding in the dark.

  Beau saw Grace run into the building and be swallowed by the light. Dark energy snaked around the building, slithering up the walls, trying to either embrace or crush the structure.

  Wherever the Darkness crossed a shaft of light, a hole would be blown in it by whatever light source it had touched. Beau hoped that continued. The darkness had a malevolent appearance and stunk like something from the grave.