by Lola White
“I have a cat!” Tulah jerked as the words left her mouth, praying she could slide this by Graves. “I’ll need to bring it, if this won’t be my home anymore.”
Graves waved impatiently. “Whatever, pet, just get the fucking beast and let’s go. I’ve wasted enough time on you today.”
Tulah nodded quickly, dragging her mother with her as she turned for the stairs. “We’ll go pack my things.”
“Ten minutes, Tulah.” His hard tone was all the warning she would get. He said nothing else.
Together, the women raced upstairs. Tulah charged into her room, throwing the creaky door open with enough force to send it bouncing against the wall. She let go of her mother and ripped open the door to her pathetically barren closet.
Tulah grabbed everything in a single sweep of her arms and raised her brows at her mother. “Go get your things. Hurry!”
“This isn’t going to work.”
“It will.” Tulah threw everything on the bed and dropped to her knees, blindly seeking the faded old duffel bag stowed beneath. “He won’t blink an eye at two pieces of luggage. He won’t even think about how little we really have, he’s so used to having too much.”
“He might understand, love.”
“Did Graves ever see you—?”
“Absolutely not! Your father never told a soul.”
“Thank God.” Tulah surged to her feet and dropped her voice. “We have to take the chance. All we have to do is get to Muso, then everything will get better, Mama. Please!”
With a growl of surrender, Chelsea moved into her own room. Through the paper-thin walls, Tulah heard drawers open and close, the bed creaking. Her mother was obeying her command.
It had been the same since Tulah had turned eighteen. Chelsea hadn’t been taught to think for herself and had been rabidly protected by her husband. She’d gone from a life where she wanted for nothing, to a nightmare where she had to fight for every gain. She could be a tigress where her daughter was concerned but, out of necessity, Tulah’s self-assurance was much more ingrained than her mother’s, and Chelsea almost always surrendered to her offspring’s determination.
Two minutes later, Chelsea returned with a battered carpet bag containing everything she owned. There was nothing downstairs worth taking. Their furniture was second-hand and there was precious little money for knick-knacks. Their entire lives condensed down into two bags.
Chelsea shut the door as she whispered a spell to hide her magic before letting it flow free. The air around her delicate shoulders took on a wavering quality, like looking through a gentle waterfall. Power flowed out of her skin to wrap her body in a gauzy shroud Tulah could just barely see. It didn’t matter, though, the force behind the magic beat at her skin, a warm pressure tap-dancing over her nerves.
Chelsea was Shimizu, a Family of kitsune witches known for their shape-shifting abilities. Predominantly taking fox form, the fact that a few could take the appearance of other small animals was a fiercely guarded secret. Her mother’s body dissolved, flowing into the form of a sleek black cat. Black was handy, unexceptional and easily able to melt into the background. Tulah had inherited the same gift and a similar form.
Tulah scooped her mother up in her arms and grabbed the bags. Chelsea hissed.
“Yes, Mama, I know. He could always remember that you are a kitsune descendant, but he won’t be able to prove anything, so long as we’re careful. And hopefully he’ll think fox, not cat.”
Tulah came down the stairs cautiously, protective of the animal snuggled in her arms. Charles surprised her by taking the bags.
Graves looked up the stairwell. “Where is your mother?”
“She said she couldn’t bear to watch you take me, too.” Tulah dropped her eyes, hiding the lie and attempting to look demure.
He only laughed before gesturing Charles through the narrow door. “It must be terrible to be in her position. A weak female with so very much to lose.”
Tulah said nothing as she followed the men to the car. Graves forced her into the back seat and the man who had opened his door when he arrived slid in on the other side. Blocking her exit.
Graves saw the look on her face. “It’s time you learned, pet, that I will win every battle.” He stroked his large hand over Chelsea’s furry head, briefly exerting a pressure that startled a squawk from the animal. “And if you try to fight me, I will take your kitten, too.”
Tulah wrenched back, gathering her mother closer. She burrowed into the side of the other man, glaring at Graves when Charles’ weight sank the right side of the car as he slid behind the wheel.
“I know what you’re capable of, Graves,” she said. “I’ve seen you in action.”
“Yes, you have, pet. Keep it in mind as you keep your mouth shut. Muso may want to lay eyes on you and see how you’ve grown, but he won’t wish to hear any tales. You know how he runs things in Africa, don’t you? Women have even less power than they do in my house.”
Tulah dropped her eyes and stroked the cat. “I know, Graves. I remember full well what kind of power the women have in the Ngozi Family. It’s why I was happy to have been banished.”
Chapter Two
Adam
“Let’s see if I have this right.” Madeleine Davenold, the stubborn, wily Family Matriarch, examined her three grandchildren’s faces closely before settling on the youngest. “Alexandru Lovasz took it into his deranged head to kill you, thereby prompting your betrothed to force his grandfather, Father of a magically powerful Family, into handing over his authority before the old man was ready to let it go?”
Adam sent a sideways glance at his cousin, Georgeanne, one of the three potential heirs to the Davenold Family magic, and took the opportunity to appreciate that, for once, he wasn’t the one being interrogated. Madeleine Davenold sat erect in her seat, the morning sunlight filtering through the window behind her. Beyond the pane, the English countryside rolled toward the sea—a sight Adam hadn’t expected, as he, his twin sister and his cousin were supposed to be heading toward New Hampshire.
They had yet to be told the reason for the rerouting of their jet.
Madeleine raised a single eyebrow. “Alexandru couldn’t kill you with magic, Georgeanne. You’re Bane.”
Bluntly put. There was no pulling back on the word, or any of its connotations. It was harsh, but Madeleine had taught them all to face facts long ago. A Bane witch had no magic—a deformity that, in other Families, usually resulted in the witch’s execution—and there was nothing Georgie could do to change that fact except build her strengths to cover the weakness.
“Yes,” Georgie agreed, gesturing to the bruises edging her jaw and wrapping her neck. “Alexandru tried to strangle me to death.”
“Silviu Lovasz is stronger than I gave him credit for,” the old woman murmured. Adam didn’t think it was a compliment.
“He made his choice, Grandmother.” Georgie’s fingers tightened on the arms of her chair. “He knew he couldn’t be Father of his Family and still marry me, if there’s a chance you’ll choose me to be the next Davenold Mother. He wants you to set a wedding date.”
“When I’m good and ready. Did you sleep with Silviu?” His grandmother’s question had them all tensing, thickening the atmosphere with its awkwardness.
“No, Grandmother. I obeyed your request,” Georgie answered with an even voice and no hint of embarrassment. She didn’t even fidget when Madeleine’s eyes narrowed in blatant disbelief.
Adam stifled a hysterical laugh. His cousin’s celibate status had looked touch-and-go for a while, when they were so recently guests of the Levy Family. Every so often, Georgie would let her rigidly controlled mask slip and Adam would catch a surprising glimmer of her true feelings for her betrothed.
She wanted him in a way Adam had never wanted anyone. He flicked a glance at his twin, Christiana, and remembered when she’d wanted someone just as fiercely. It hadn’t turned out well.
It was confusing and terrifying to him that Georgie could
be so wrapped up in Silviu, but he would give her the benefit of the doubt. She hadn’t chosen him over the Davenold Family yet.
Yet.
“Silviu gave the Family magic to his brother,” Georgie smoothly switched topics, “who will appoint Silviu to the Family Council seat.”
Madeleine sat back in her chair. “Very neatly done, that was.” Finally her eyes swung to Adam, and he froze under their weight. “And what were you doing while your cousin was fighting for her life?”
“Not what, who.” He grinned to hide his resentment. “Constance Gage-Levy.”
Constance had been a job, a pawn to further his Family’s goals, and he couldn’t afford to let her be more. Truly, he didn’t want her to be more. She was a woman who’d tried every trick she had to keep him close, but Adam wouldn’t—couldn’t—let his guard down. Every female he’d ever known was angling for power or information, waiting for him to fall into weakness, using him as much as he was using them. Constance was no different.
“Don’t be crude!” Madeleine’s lined face tightened. She was a handsome woman, for all her eighty-seven years, but never more so than when she was irritated or angry, when her pale skin flushed pink while her magic filled out all the hollows in her aged cheeks.
She was beautiful just then. Knowing his limits well, Adam quickly pulled himself into perfect posture and tried to look repentant. “That is to say, Grandmother, I was employed on a reconnaissance mission, apparently in the highest ranks of the Levy Family.”
Temper flashed in the old woman’s eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Constance is traveling with Father Daniel Levy until her betrothal agreement to Graves Ngozi is complete.”
“Hmm,” Madeleine murmured. “What did you learn?”
“You want to know about her?” At his grandmother’s nod, Adam sighed and humored her. “There isn’t much to tell. Constance is smart but not magically powerful.”
“That’s a Levy trait. Few of them are strong in that regard.”
Georgie shifted forward. “But the women tend to be stronger in their magic than the men, in spite of them being patriarchal. And Constance’s mother married her Magic Match, which should have given Constance’s ability a little boost.”
Adam blinked and fought to incorporate the new information into what he knew of the Gage-Levys. Every witch had a Match somewhere in the world, another whose magic was complementary enough to strengthen their talents. But, while the witching community wasn’t terribly large, it was spread far and wide and strictly divided by the Patriarchal-Matriarchal Schism, so Matches were difficult to find.
If found, Matches were encouraged to marry—unless, like Adam and Christiana, that option wasn’t available. Unlike the magically powerful Davenolds, who went out of their way to gain Matches for their children, the weaker Levys were more concerned with breeding stronger magic into their bloodlines. Few in the massive coven had found their Match.
“Anne’s marriage to Warner was a punishment.” Madeleine’s lips pursed as they always did when she was sorting her thoughts. “She didn’t want to marry him, but she did something that angered the old Father and he sent her away. It was all hushed up quickly and I never learned the truth behind it.”
Georgie glowed with satisfaction. “Anne slept with Daniel’s dad while she was angling to marry Daniel and claim the position of High Female for herself.” Madeleine humphed, and Georgie rushed on, “Constance was born with the help of a spell. She’s Daniel’s sister.”
Adam was floored. That wasn’t the relationship he’d thought the two witches shared.
Madeleine’s eyes gleamed. “After Daniel’s birth?”
“Yes.” Georgie was triumphant.
“That’s impossible…” Adam’s words faded as he ran through his own encyclopedic knowledge of spells. It was his strength, and he took a great deal of pride and pleasure in his talents. “Holy shi— Ah, I mean, huh.”
Madeleine, a Match with her own late husband, shifted in her chair. “Witches can only have one child, to minimize the damage their talents can do to the world. It is a natural law set in stone. Only Matches have enough enchantment between them to bend that law.”
After a quick glance at his equally baffled twin, Adam spoke slowly. “The only spell I know that would bend the laws of nature to that extent is very, very dark, Grandmother. There would be ramifications.”
“Like what?” Madeleine did not have a talent for spell casting. “What consequences would they have found?”
“Hard to say. Usually there would be a…defect, somewhere.” Adam tried to explain the nearly incomprehensible. “Something not quite right, but not necessarily a physical thing.”
“On who?” Georgie turned to face him fully. “Who would be defective?”
Christiana answered, as talented with spells as Adam, “Any of the three—mother, father or child. The child would be most likely, though.”
Madeleine stared at Adam. “Did you see any such thing in regards to Constance?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Her mother?”
“I hardly spent any time with the woman.”
Madeleine tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Daniel Levy extended a rather demanding invitation to the Levy-Ngozi marriage celebration. That’s why you’re here.”
“Why have the Davenolds suddenly become so popular among the Levys?” Christiana asked. “This is the second invitation we’ve gotten from them in two weeks.”
Georgie waved her hand. “They didn’t extend the first, Vasile Lovasz lied about that. The Levys didn’t even know we were coming.”
As a matriarchal Family, the Davenolds should have been excluded from patriarchal celebrations, yet they’d just come from the Levy House in Poland and were now expected to make a showing at the Ngozis’. Adam had a theory, and voiced it aloud. “It’s Georgie’s betrothal to Silviu. It spans the Schism, so now the Davenolds will have to be active on both sides.”
Madeleine shook her head. “Daniel insists I perform the Sovereign Bestowal at Constance’s marriage.”
Adam frowned. “What is that?”
Madeleine’s expression told him how disappointed she was in his ignorance. “It’s a ritual that cuts ties with the former Family, and brings the witch’s power into their new bloodline.”
“She did it for my second marriage.” Christiana’s voice wavered the smallest amount. “The Sovereign Bestowal adds in a blessing. Otherwise, the branch or Family leaders will just perform a basic bestowal of power.”
Adam hadn’t paid any particular attention at the time of his sister’s wedding. He’d been too afraid for her, and too busy hoping her second marriage wouldn’t be as terrible as her first.
“Only Grandmother, the High Seat Sovereign with access to all the magic of the combined covens, can infuse the blessing.” Georgie, intimately acquainted with Council rules, picked up where Chris left off. “As his Family’s Father, Daniel has the right to ask her to perform the ritual.”
“Lower ranking witches can be denied, but a Mother or Father must be appeased.” Madeleine lifted an eyebrow. “Georgeanne’s invitation made sense, considering her betrothal, her council position and her popularity. But, until our enlightening conversation of your little fling with Constance, Adam, I had no idea why your presence was requested. Just shy of forcefully, I might add.”
Christiana snorted. “Constance latched on to him for his Family position. Certainly she wouldn’t let a little thing like marriage to another man stop her rise to the top.”
“You do wield a great deal of influence in this Family, Adam.” Madeleine let her dark eyes roam over him slowly, sending his skin crawling over his bones. He loved the old lady dearly, but she was still damned scary, and he hated to be the focus of her attention. He didn’t know what she was thinking or what she could see in his expression.
“Do you need me continue my relationship with her?” His stomach flopped. He despised being used as the Daven
old whore, though he’d never admit it to his grandmother. His body was frequently traded for information, and while each interlude was physically pleasant, it was emotional quicksand.
“I don’t know yet, but if I do, you will be careful,” Madeleine murmured. “Graves Ngozi is somewhat…temperamental, and the gossipmongers say he is quite attached to his betrothed. I will be very displeased if you get yourself killed on Constance’s behalf.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Because of your condition, Christiana,” Madeleine continued, “you will stay here at the Davenold House while the rest of us travel to the Ngozi residence.”
“No,” Chris stated flatly. “With respect, Grandmother, I can’t stay here with Suzette. I can hardly bear to look at her, and if my twin is being targeted by Constance I want to be at his side. He’ll need me.”
“I cannot allow my unborn great-grandchild to be caught in a situation we can’t control.”
“I’m only three months along,” Chris argued. “I can protect my baby. Let me be there for my Family.”
Silence filled the room until Adam fidgeted. Madeleine glared between her grandchildren, examining their faces before turning toward the window and watching the clouds float by. Plotting and scheming, no doubt. Adam tried not to look too unhappy but his mask must have slipped.
Chris leaned close and lowered her voice until it was nearly inaudible. “Say the word and I’ll take the Levy bitch out.”
Mimicking her low tone, he said, “Don’t worry about me, honey. I’m well equipped to handle someone like her.”
“Sure, but what about Graves?”
Adam’s lips twitched in cold amusement. “Gonna take Graves out, too?”
“Someone should.” Georgie joined their conversation. “I don’t like that man. He’s too arrogant, tyrannical…patriarchal.”