“I’ve never, ever been ashamed of you, Kate,” she whispered. Tears swam in her emerald eyes. They pooled over and ran unchecked down her cheeks. “You’re the one who should be ashamed of me.”
Ashamed of Morgan?
“I’m the reason you’re mortal.” She pressed a pale hand flat to her chest and rubbed, as if to soothe a pain. “I’m the reason you’re cursed.”
“I don’t understand.” Not in the least bit. My world was already tilted, my plane of view totally skewed. And it clearly wasn’t going to steady itself any time soon.
“I know. I want to try to explain.” Tears continued unheeded down her pale cheeks. I don’t think she was even aware of them. “Can you get rid of your spell?”
I grabbed my wand, whispered my spell and sat back down in my chair. Truthfully, I more or less fell into the chair. Already on overload, I didn’t know how much more I could handle.
Morgan floated over the railing and right into the matching chair to my right. The weight of her tears had plastered her red silk shirt against her chest.
I stared at the mountains. It hurt too much to look at her.
“I was born into a family of witches. I had eight sisters.” Morgan rushed the words out, as if afraid I’d stop her at any moment. “We were rather powerful.”
Powerful enough to end up in the Arthurian legends.
“My oldest sister had several children. One of them died in battle.”
“That would be Mordred? The traitor?” I had read my history books as a young witch. Some of it was coming back.
“Yeah. My other sisters were not happy with Mordred. He shamed our family name when he stole Arthur’s crown and married Guinevere.”
It was so strange to hear Morgan talk about events from memory I’d only read about in books.
“They used black magic and cast a spell, making Mordred mortal during his fight with Arthur. When he died, my sister Morgause lost it. She used the same spell and cast it back on our sisters. Then she took a knife to their throats.”
Morgan paused here. I looked at her. Pale and tragic and so damn beautiful. She rubbed a slender hand over her cheek, frowning slightly when she encountered her tears. She stared at her hand as if confused.
I’m sure she was. Morgan wasn’t a crier. I could be a wimpy witch at times, but Morgan always had her shit together.
“What happened then?” I didn’t mean to sound so curt, but it was killing me to see Morgan so vulnerable.
“Most of my nieces and nephews fled. Morgause was always a very thorough witch. Those she couldn’t kill she cursed to never know love.” Morgan sighed. “I think she meant ‘to never know a mother’s love’, but she wasn’t thinking clearly.” I thought she said “she still isn’t” under her breathe, but I wasn’t sure. And I had other questions.
“So, how are you to blame?”
“I knew what Mordred planned to do and I didn’t do anything to stop it.”
“Why were you responsible for your nephew’s actions?” Morgan scowled at me. I waved her off. “So, why didn’t your sister kill you as well?”
“I was off with someone at the time.” That would be the newly re-aquainted Drake. Morgan glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “I liked to date a lot back then.”
Major understatement. From what I’d read Morgana Le Fay had been quite the little witch when she was younger.
“I felt the spell when she cast it.” Black magic always hits hard. “To save me, Drake took me to a vampire and had me turned.” She tapped one slender finger over the arm of the chair.
“That doesn’t sound good.” Now I was the one speaking in understatements. Turning a person or a witch into a vampire is a messy process. And it doesn’t always work.
“Actually, I begged Drake to do it, but he wouldn’t.” She flicked a fang. “I didn’t care about much at the time other than destroying my sister like she destroyed the rest of our family.”
Now that was the Morgan I knew. Bloodthirsty and not afraid of some payback.
“But you’re not cursed.” Had she lied to me about that too?
“Curses don’t work on vampires, Kate.”
Right. I knew that.
“So, why didn’t you tell me? Why keep all this a secret?” I flung out my hand to encompass everything. Her lies. My hurt. Our blood tie. “How did you keep it from me when we first met?”
Morgan leaned back in the chair. Her head rolled along the edge of the chair. Red locks moving sensuously over the wicker.
“We never shook hands.”
I scowled at her, trying to remember the details.
“We made a toast. You had a beer and I had my blood. We toasted with those and never shook hands.”
Damn it. I remembered now. “I guess a hand shake seemed a bit lame at that point.” Morgan snorted. “Cut me some slack. It was my first bar fight. And I really thought those trolls were going to win.”
I shook my head. Now was not the time to get caught up in good memories. “So, why not tell me afterwards?”
Morgan looked out over the deck. I thought she wasn’t going to say anything at all, offer any kind of excuse, and then she finally whispered, “I was afraid.”
What? Morgan afraid of something? Who was she trying to fool?
I was the wimpy witch. I was the one who’d been bullied and ostracized. I was the one who needed to lose some weight. I was the one with all the issues.
Half-bred. Cursed. Mortal. Witch.
Morgan was perfect. She was crazy strong. Brave. Drop dead beautiful. Immortal.
What did she have to be afraid of?
“I was afraid you wouldn’t want to know me. Especially after I told you everything.” She made a soft sound, almost like a sob. “You’re my only family too.”
“All the other lines died out?” I frowned. “I thought I’d read several of them continued on?”
“Morgause made sure the truth was never written down.” When I raised my eyebrows at her, she continued. “Nobody likes a bad witch. She killed most of the immortals who knew the truth. Our relatives that lived all died without having children, except your line. Morgause never went after them because they hid really well at first and by the time she found your great- grandmother, she had no clue about her history. That’s why you’ve never known anything about your relatives. The truth was kept secret to keep you alive.”
Looked like I came from a long line of Duck and Dodge witches. Duck, Dodge and Stay Alive.
Go us.
“So your sister Morgause is still alive?”
“I don’t claim her as my sister, but yes, she’s still alive.”
Okay, that sort of creeped me out. Especially now that I did know the truth.
“Didn’t she try to come after you?”
“Yes.” Morgan didn’t elaborate. Memories shadowed her eyes. I didn’t press.
“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t tell me.”
“Don’t you hate me now?” Morgan demanded.
“Why would I?” I was hurt and confused. Maybe a little bitter. Definitely felt betrayed. But I didn’t hate her.
“I knew what that little shit was going to do and I never said anything!” She screamed the words at me.
“Again, Morgan, why are his actions your fault? And what could you have done? From what you just told me, your sisters would have still done him in to prevent him from shaming the family name.”
“Yes, but I didn’t . . .” Her voice trailed off. Frown lines creased her forehead. “I never really thought of it like that before.”
“You mean, you’ve been carrying around all this guilt for centuries?” Sweet Glinda, and I always thought I had issues.
“Its not like I ever talked about this before.” Morgan scowled at me.
I rolled my eyes at her. I’d never thought Morgan might have hidden vulnerabilities. Shameful memories she carried with her. She’d always been a bit secretive, but all vamps are. She’d never hinted at any of this. Not once
. Until Drake showed up.
She’d been carrying all this pain, all alone for centuries. Living with it, but keeping it secret. If I had a sister like Morgause, I’d probably do the same.
If I’d been in her shoes, would I have been upfront when we first met? Would I have been eager to claim a relationship? Or volunteer information about the curse?
I understood being vulnerable. And I knew all too well how those hidden weaknesses could control a witch’s behavior. Or a vampire’s. I was still hurt, but I understood her reasoning and her fears.
My life had been run by my fears for far too long. And I’d only lived a tiny portion of the span of Morgan’s life.
“So, why find me at all?” I looked at her. “Why not just keep your distance from Aunt Tabs and myself?”
“I didn’t even know anyone had survived until right before we met. Once I found out, I couldn’t stay away. I had to find you.” She shook her head. “Then I found out you were mortal and I don’t know, I had this crazy idea of watching you and protecting you, but then we met in that bar fight and I liked you so much,” her breath shuddered out, “I didn’t want to be alone anymore.”
Morgan thrust her shoulders back. “It was selfish. I’d already caused you so much pain. I should have stayed away, but . . .” Her voice trailed off, her shoulders slumped.
She was more human than she wanted to admit.
We sat there until the sun set. We didn’t say much. I know I was trying to adjust to all the changes in my reality. I figured Morgan was as well.
On the one hand I was thrilled we were related, on the other I was horrified I now knew the details of the curse. I should have been happy to have that mystery solved. But I could barely think about it without my skin crawling.
My own relative had killed off almost everyone in the family? She was a powerful, black witch? And Morgan was afraid of her?
How the hell was I supposed to come up with a way to break our curse from a black witch?
I didn’t know. If Morgan hadn’t been able to do anything, what chance did I have?
I couldn’t think about it at the moment. It was too big, too scary and too overwhelming. For just this moment I wanted to sit next to my UDBF.
She was my best friend and we were related. I liked that.
The moment the sun finally slid past the mountains, Morgan sighed. Vampires love the night.
Suddenly, she laughed. “Those trolls put up a really good fight.”
I had to laugh as well. “Yeah, they did.” We had so many good memories between us. “Do you remember the size of the mace that one was swinging?”
Morgan snickered. “I remember the lump it gave him when I smashed him on the head with it.”
Good times.
“Hey, wasn’t that zombie at the fight?”
“Yeah, he’d been on our side.” I could hardly forget him. He’d used one arm as a club.
Morgan sighed. “Too bad he really did die.”
Yeah. Totally sucked.
I turned to look at her. She sat mostly in the shadows. And I realized she’d been in the shadows most of her very, very long life. Morgan didn’t make friends easily. She may not have meant to become friends with me at first.
But we had become friends. Best friends.
We would get through this. Together.
The ache in my chest eased up.
“I think I’ve got a bottle of A negative. You want a glass?”
Morgan started to nod. A warm glow lit part of my deck. The part right outside my bedroom door.
“He’s determined. I’ll say that for him.”
I glared at her as I walked by on my way to my bedroom. This was not funny. He could start a fire.
I made a mental note to hide all the matches and any lighters I had.
Crazy hit-man Chihuahua.
24. Back To Good.
“He left after you gave him a bj?”
“Damn near left burn marks on my floor.” I glanced down at the Chihuahua sleeping in my lap. He didn’t move. Big Al had conveniently channeled away after I’d snatched the lighter out of his front paws.
He’d used a pillow to get the lighter to the exact height of the candle wick and laid it on its edge. I couldn’t imagine how many tries it had taken the little nut-job before he actually managed to light it.
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Morgan took a sip of her blood. She was on her second glass.
I drank a tiny sip of my vodka tonic. I had to make it last. There was just enough vodka left for one drink. “I, maybe, kind of, pushed a few of his buttons.”
“Which ones?” Morgan turned her head, her brilliant curls flowed softly over one shoulder.
I took a bigger sip. “Just the ones for dominance, control, manipulation and male ego.”
“Ah. The important ones.”
Yes, damn the ruby slippers.
We were trying to find our footing again. Asking her advice about Ash had been a perfect opening.
She was my UDBF. I couldn’t live without her.
It hurt me that she’d lied and I couldn’t quite process it all yet. We were related. I now knew how and why we’d been cursed. Scary evil witch. Black magic. The stuff of nightmares.
I pushed it out of my mind for the moment.
“No worries.” Morgan snuggled back into the cushion. “Just tell him you’re sorry.”
That was her helpful advice. Apologize?
“I know you, Kate. You didn’t mean to undermine him. Plus Ash cares about you. Tell him you’re sorry and he’ll forgive you.”
Hmm. She had a point. But she also said “undermine”. Shit, was that what I’d done?
“You could also follow up that apology with another bj.”
Now we were talking. Ash wouldn’t be able to resist. I could tell him it would be on his terms. Any way he wanted it.
Knowing that dominant demon, his way might just include some handcuffs and restraints. You know, to make certain he was in full control and then he could . . .
“Get whatever deviant fantasy your mind has created out of your head right now. I might be full, but your heart rate makes me feel like a damn voyeur.”
Ick. There went that fantasy.
The pull-out squeaked.
Which reminded me. “Harley is all healed up now. I need to take her back and I could use some help.”
She responded better to Morgan and Al. More than likely due to the fact they hadn’t run her over in the first place.
I didn’t want to keep casting sleeping spells over her. I was pretty sure there wouldn’t be any long term effects, but it’s always better to be safe than risk potential death. Or a magically induced case of narcolepsy.
Not good for a creature who’d managed to stay out of sight - and off the front page - for who knew how long.
Harley would listen if Morgan asked her to lie still in the back of Ash’s truck.
“Already? She’s barely had time to heal. Don’t you think she should stick around for a bit longer before we send her back to the woods? Her manicure won’t last and she’ll ruin her soft fur.”
“Morgan, she’s Bigfoot. She’s over seven feet tall and taking up serious real estate on my pull out.” Plus Al liked to sleep with her. “It’s time for her to go back to where she came from.”
“She can’t stay a little bit longer?”
I considered Morgan. Her absolute delight in pampering Harley and her devotion to Al.
“Did you have a pet when you were growing up?”
Morgan scowled at me. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Oh, for Spirit’s sake. “Morgan, Harley is not a giant teddy bear. We can’t keep her.”
Morgan looked ready to argue when my doorbell rang.
“I’ll be right back.”
I cuddled Al against my chest as I headed towards the front door. Aunt Tabs stood on the other side.
Decked out in sparkly gold heels, skinny jeans and a long sleeved, v-necked leopard pr
int shirt, she looked fabulous. As per her usual.
“I don’t like it when you lock me out, Kate.” She stepped over the threshold, her heels clicked in a sexy rhythm. “I want you to promise me you won’t do it again.”
“I’m sorry Aunt Tabs. I just needed some alone time.”
She continued to frown at me for half a second longer then she shook her head and smiled. “I guess I can understand. That was a pretty big bombshell Morgan dropped. Have you two worked things out yet?”
She made it sound as if we’d been fighting for weeks instead of a few hours.
I have to say it felt more like weeks too.
“She’s on the porch.”
“Wonderful. I have so many questions for her.” She turned and tap tapped her way down the hall.
I followed, thankful she hadn’t caught on to the fact I hadn’t actually promised her anything. I hated not being one hundred percent truthful, but there are times in a witch’s life when she simply needs her space.
I stopped to pour Aunt Tabs a glass of Chardonnay from the bottle I kept for her in my fridge. When I stepped out onto the porch, Aunt Tabs had already pulled up one of my chairs next to Morgan and was in the process of grilling her.
I’d been on the receiving end of her interrogation enough times when I was younger. Now, I quietly set her glass near her and sat back to enjoy the show and cuddle with my Chihuahua.
Forty-five minutes later, my hand was tired and Aunt Tabs finally paused to take a sip of her wine. She wrinkled her nose at its warmth.
“Did you tell Aunt Tabs you’re kicking Harley out?” Morgan asked, eyes the size of fabled emeralds.
Wonderful. She was trying to throw me in the cauldron. However, I understood. For such a nice witch, Aunt Tabs could be ruthless. Plus, it was clear Morgan was not so good with either feelings of guilt or vulnerability. Given the opportunity, she was going to do anything - and use anyone as a distraction - to avoid facing them.
“Harley?” Aunt Tabs quirked a brow.
“Bigfoot.” I shrugged, still totally divided on my feelings for the creature. “Morgan named her last night.”
Bigfoots Don't Do Mini Coopers (Kate Storm Book 1) Page 18