“The kid’s asleep.”
She glanced over her shoulder and the tough exterior she’d been holding on to seemed to melt away. Making her look years younger. And exhausted. “I know, it’s just… He’s so young. I…” She frowned. “I need to thank you. For…back there. I don’t know what I—”
“Don’t.” He cut her off before she said anything about undying gratitude. This was his job. Hell, it was a sworn duty, and he still felt like shit for turning them away last night. “Everybody’s fine. Just answer my questions. I need to know who sent you to me. Start with your parents. Who are they?”
Shea hesitated, torn between her parents’ deeply ingrained admonitions against revealing anything personal and the need for answers from her only source of information.
That source was scowling at her, and he had a perfectly gorgeous scowl. It made his sharply defined features even more handsome, from the straight slope of his nose to his high cheekbones.
She frowned in return but said, “My parents are Celeste and Kyle Tedaldi.”
She bounced against the door as the car hit the shoulder. Borelli jerked the wheel back to the left as he steadied the car. Then he shot her a long glance that took her in from head to toe.
“You’re lying.”
Her mouth dropped open. Of all possible responses, that hadn’t been one she’d imagined. “Why would you say that?”
He snorted, making her more angry and confused by the second. “I don’t know what game you’re playing but you can’t be Celeste’s daughter. Is the kid your son?”
Completely confused by his belligerent attitude, she rubbed a hand over her throbbing left temple. “Leo is my brother. Our mother ca— sent for me to get him a year ago. I’d…been away from home.”
“Bullshit.”
Her temple gave a short, sharp tug and she rubbed it with one finger. “It’s the truth. Why would I lie about something like that?”
“Where did they live?”
“Wisconsin.”
She could see him thinking about that, processing the information.
“Look—”
“Listen—”
They broke off.
Gabriel took another look out the rearview then sighed. “Alright, something’s off here and I need to know what it is if I’m going to protect you. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you’re Kyle’s daughter, but you aren’t Celeste’s.”
Shea’s temples began to pound in unison. “Why would I lie about that? What would I have to gain?”
“You can’t be Celeste’s daughter. If you were, you’d know why.”
What the hell was he talking about? He wasn’t making any sense.
Then again, maybe she didn’t want to know. “Well, I am but I don’t.”
He snorted. “Come on, Shea. You’re smart enough to have gotten this far, but don’t think I’m gonna believe you’re the answer to everyone’s prayers.”
Confusion bit into her headache, trying to breach the wall the spell had erected against the pain. Surprisingly, the voices were a barely perceptible buzz in the background. “What does that mean?”
Gabriel stole another look at Shea, taking careful note of the purple aura that marked her strega. He searched for the black streaks that would identify her as one of the thirteen women he was sworn to protect. He didn’t find a trace of black. Just a whole lot of jagged red lines. Pain.
She managed to keep that pain out of her expression, her beautiful face unmarked by it. She was a true beauty and, from the photo he’d seen of Celeste, she had been, too. Still, there were a lot of beautiful, dark-haired women in the world.
And none, as far as he knew, had yet been born to break a five-hundred-year-old curse.
“Borelli, if you have something to tell me, just spit it out.”
He shot her another quick glance, found her staring straight at him through those lifeless brown contacts, her expression a mix of fear and confusion. Without stopping to think, he released the wheel with his right hand and grabbed her arm.
At first, he felt nothing and that was shocking. Then, as if a wall had fallen, thoughts that weren’t his own flooded his brain, whispered bits and pieces of conversations he couldn’t understand. He could make out nothing coherent, but the intensity of the link began to grow.
He knew he was driving, but, suddenly, it didn’t matter. The voices were speaking to him and he had to listen harder, had to understand—
The voices cut off as Shea ripped her hand out of his with an agonized cry.
Holy shit.
The car veered to the left this time as his hand twitched, jerking the wheel and nearly taking out the car coming toward them. The driver laid on the horn and shot him the finger as Gabriel fought to get the car and his body under control. His muscles shook against the unreasonable urge to grab her hand again and listen to the voices. They needed him.
“What the hell was that?”
He heard fear in his voice and hated it. Hated that she’d done this to him.
“Vaffanculo, what the hell just happened?”
“Don’t touch me.”
No shit. “Yeah, I got that much. Just tell me what the hell that was.”
She made a sound low in her throat, somewhere between a moan and a sob. “My own private hell. Did you find out what you needed to know?”
“No. Explain.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.” She paused and he wasn’t sure she was going to continue. Then she sighed. “The voices have always been there. My mother used to call them my guardians. As I got older, I learned to ignore them. To build a mental wall and keep them to a manageable hum.”
Well, shit. Whatever was wrong with this girl, it was major. She’d managed to keep her and the kid one step ahead of Dario’s men for a year, and that took a fair amount of brains, so he ruled out just plain crazy. Schizophrenia was a possibility, and he was sure there were a dozen other mental illnesses she might have that could account for the voices.
But whatever it was, it was scary. And she lived with it daily.
“Did Celeste ever tell you why you hear voices?”
Shea shook her head and let her gaze meet his. He really hated those contacts.
“She just said it was my curse to bear. I’ve learned to live with them, to mentally wall them up most of the time, but they’re never truly gone.”
Oh, no. No way. No fucking way. He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe. “You really want me to believe you’re the one, after all these years?”
She shook her head again. “What are you talking about? The one what?”
She looked dead serious, confused as all hell and terrified. He had the unbelievable urge to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay.
Could it be possible?
Hell, after the life he’d lived and the things he’d seen, he would have admitted that anything was possible. But to think this girl was finally the one, after five hundred years? And she didn’t know?
He wasn’t sure he could accept that.
“Borelli. The one what?”
He wasn’t going there yet. “Did your… Did Celeste ever talk about her family, her boschetta?”
She paused again, this time longer. Then she asked, “Are you telling me she had family?”
“Did she tell you about her past?”
Shea sighed and he heard disgust in the sound. “My mother didn’t talk much.” At least not to her. Her mom just looked at her with those sad eyes, her disappointment so clear in the flat line of her mouth. “My dad…”
“What about your dad?”
A small smile tried to lift the corners of her mouth. “I never doubted his love. He taught me how to fight, how to read, how to write. How to think. I could handle a knife long before I knew how to add. He was a school teacher before he met my mother. He was older than her—”
Borelli snorted as he navigated the dark back roads.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
she asked.
“Oh, come on. If you really are Celeste’s daughter—and I’m not saying you are—then you know how old your mother really is. You know the history. And if you don’t, then it just proves my point that you’re not her daughter.”
Shea didn’t know what to say to that. Well, she had a few things, but telling the man who’d saved Leo from certain death that he could stick his head in his ass probably wasn’t a good choice.
Still, his denial of her parentage was starting to grate. Even she could see the resemblance between her and her mother. More than she wanted.
But if Borelli wanted to play twenty questions then she’d play along. But she wanted some answers of her own.
“Tell me why you’re so sure I’m not…Celeste’s daughter.”
“What did Celeste tell you about the curse?”
She frowned. “You mean the voices?”
“No, I mean the curse.”
A cold shiver made its way up her spine. That one word sound so…ominous. She really didn’t want to ask but knew she had to. And she knew she wasn’t going to like the answer. “What curse?”
He fell silent again, eyes checking the rearview every so often.
Something too much like terror started to creep through the agony of her building migraine. “Borelli, what the hell’s going on?”
The minute the question left her lips, she wished she could take it back. She didn’t want to know.
Blessed Goddess, she was so screwed up. Which should be expected from someone who’d been twelve years old before she’d seen another person other than her parents. Before she knew there were things like telephones, televisions and radios.
This curse he kept talking about…something else her parents had failed to mention. But Borelli would, if she had to pester, sweet talk or bully him all the way to wherever the hell they were going.
She took a deep breath and started on her second option. “Please. I need to know.”
He shot her another look, his eyes narrowing. “When we get where we’re going. Rest until then. You don’t look too good.”
That’s because the blocking spell was wearing off and the migraine was gaining strength.
For a brief second, she considered badgering him until he gave her the answers she wanted. But her head hurt too much.
With a huff, she turned to look out the passenger side window. A few crowded developments gave way to open fields filled with waist-high corn on both sides of the two-lane road. They passed a few old stone farmhouses and brick churches and drove through a covered bridge to more fields.
At the edge of the fields, a forest reared up as they climbed a hill.
Her lids grew heavy and she must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes, the car was bumping along an unpaved road, shooting spikes of pain through her head. After what seemed like hours, Gabriel pulled the car to a stop.
Nauseous, she looked out the window, barely able to make out the outline of a two-story house. Gods-be-damned, her head felt like someone was trying to cut a path out from the inside with a dull spoon.
Vaguely, she realized Gabriel was rounding the front of the car, heading toward her door. Behind her, she heard zippers opening and closing as Leo searched for something in the backpack.
A few seconds later, Leo’s hand appeared over the seat, clutching her brown prescription bottle.
She turned to give him as much of a smile as she could. “It’s not that bad.”
“What’s not that bad?”
Borelli’s low-pitched voice sounded just beside her. He’d opened her door, ready to reach in and pull her out.
She flinched away. If he touched her now, it’d feel like nails driving into her temples.
Before she could say anything, Leo grabbed Borelli’s arm. “Don’t.”
Borelli glanced from Leo to her and back again. His jaw clenched, but he nodded and backed away, leaving the door open for her.
Okay, she could do this. She could. She just needed to get out of the car, walk into the house and get horizontal. Surely there’d be a bed somewhere. She just needed to lie down for a little while.
Sliding off the seat, she had to grab the car door as a wave of nausea rolled through her. She barely avoided throwing up at the grigorio’s feet. And how embarrassing would that have been? “Where are we?”
“Safe.” Borelli grabbed her bag from the back seat and waved Leo up the short flight of stone stairs looming ahead of them. He waited for her to move before following.
With every step, the pain in her head intensified. She couldn’t let it take her down. Not yet. Alone, she could dissolve, but not now. Not in front of Borelli. She didn’t want him to think she was weak.
Grabbing the metal railing to the side of the stairs, she pulled herself up each step. When she reached the top, she felt like she’d climbed Mount Everest. And was about to die from exposure.
Leo stood before the large front door, waiting.
“Hey, kid,” Borelli said. “Never stand in front of a door if you can help it. Leaves you vulnerable.”
Borelli stepped to the side of the door as he reached for a string around his neck. Pulling it from beneath his shirt, he revealed an antique silver key that he slipped into the lock. The door opened without a sound, and he stuck his head inside for just a second before he waved them through.
Goddess, please, just a few more steps.
The nails in her temples became railroad spikes, crushing against her brain. Her knees started to buckle and she stumbled and nearly fell. Only Leo’s small body by her side kept her from hitting the ground.
“Through the atrium and dining room, the bedrooms are at the back on the left.” Borelli’s voice rumbled in her ear. “Lay down.”
Barely able to see, her eyes squeezed nearly shut, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it until Leo took her hand, guiding her.
She stumbled ahead, agony increasing with every step.
Chapter Seven
Gabriel watched them make their way through the rooms, watched Shea take every step as if it were killing her.
He felt useless and he abso-fucking-lutely hated that. He was grigorio. He’d been raised to believe he could find a way to fix or fight anything.
He wanted to pick her up, tuck her in bed and make her better simply by the force of his will.
Which was really stupid. He could only perform rudimentary healing spells. And the kid had told him not to touch her. Probably aggravated the migraine.
What he should do is check the house, tucked into a forest in the southeastern Berks County hills. The wards had been in place when they’d arrived but that didn’t mean he should let his guard down.
His gaze tracked to the back of the house. Or maybe he should follow Shea and Leo to make sure they found the right room.
Yeah, it was a lame-ass excuse, but he needed to make sure she was okay. And maybe the kid would need his help with something.
The door to the first room was open, and Leo knelt beside the bed, his back to the door.
Shea lay on the bed, curled into a ball, arms over her head, as if warding off blows. Her eyes were squeezed tight but she looked to be asleep.
He’d seen this woman take a right hook to the chin and smile. The pain had to be excruciating if it had her laid out like this.
“Leo.”
The kid spared him a quick glance over his shoulder but immediately went back to staring at Shea. Leo looked almost as pale as his sister, and Gabriel spent several gut-wrenching seconds debating what he should do.
What would he do if it that was Nino sitting there, looking like his heart was bleeding?
Walking over to the bed, he shut off his internal critic and let instinct take over. Bending, he picked up the kid and held him. Little arms twined around his neck as Leo started to cry. The sound made his chest ache so badly, he wondered if he’d broken a rib during the fight.
Bullshit. You know you didn’t.
He walked out of the room, the b
oy now wrapped around his body and clinging like a monkey. If he loosened his arms, Leo wouldn’t have fallen. But Gabriel didn’t let go. When they got back to the atrium, he sat on the couch in the living room and let the kid cry himself to sleep.
* * *
After he’d put the kid in the room next to Shea’s, Gabriel picked up the phone and dialed.
Spell Bound (Darkly Enchanted) Page 9