by AJ Nuest
“You are Gaelleod’s son, my heart.” Stepping close, she grasped his hands and lowered them to his sides. What that she could remedy the bristling fury of all such an honor entailed. “I have long since suspected you inherited a parcel of his powers.”
“Oh my sweet Lord.” Jon’s lashes fluttered and he grabbed Oliver’s arm as if his wavering legs necessitated additional support.
“What?” Rhys’ grip tightened around hers before he shoved her hands away. “Aw, hell no.” He withdrew a step, his red-rimmed eyes filled with dismay. “This can’t be happening.” He shook his head, shoulders tight, and thrust his fingers through his thick hair. “This cannot be happening. I mean…for Christ’s sake, Faedrah, what if I hurt you?”
Her heart rent in two as he battled the agony of his worst fears. “You will not.” She believed as much down to the marrow of her bones; drew near lest Rhys assume the responsibility of such appalling horrors. “Have I not belief in you above all others? Have I not dared to seek the mysteries of your heart?” She placed a hand on her chest, standing tall and proud, her love for him ringing loud and true as the tolling of a thousand silver bells. “Keep faith, love. I trust in your noble heart. You merely need time to determine the breadth of your abilities.” Opening her hands to her sides, she beckoned him back to her arms. “Ours is a love throughout the ages. You would no more harm me than you would yourself.”
“How do you know that?” He aimed a finger at Violet, blanched and clenched his hand into a trembling fist. “She just said I was apt to lose it and—”
“That’s not at all what I said!” Every head in the room spun toward the witch as she helped her husband to his feet. “You misunderstood me. God, give a girl the chance to explain.”
Oliver and Jon rushed forward to brace Sir Todd with their shoulders and aid him to the nearest seat. They slid an ottoman before the settee and the injured man moaned, propping his heels along the cushioned top.
“Now, if everyone would just calm down and try to focus, maybe we can get through the rest of this.” She plopped into her chair and, straightening her shoulders, whirled back to the center screen. “Look here.” The little white arrowhead wriggled back and forth between the two images she’d previously shuttled to the surface—Leo with his darling Grace prior to Rayburn McEleod’s death, the one beside it those same two lovers during their marriage rite a scant season later. “Is it just me or do these men seem like two totally different people?”
Faedrah frowned and closed in on the window with the rest of the group to better study the likeness of Leo’s face. Her knees locked and she flinched away from the desk, a million icy shivers racing down her spine.
Whilst, unquestionably, the Leo represented in the first view was a near reflection of her beloved Rhys, the cocked head of the man in the second scene, the arrogant slant of his shoulders and knowing curl of his lips called to her through the dark shadows of her dreams. Only one decrepit soul she’d had the ill fortune to meet beheld the haunted mien of the evil entity standing at Grace McEleod’s side.
Awareness rippled through her soul, impressing the clear cold reality of the dark lord’s insidious plan.
“Helios save us,” she whispered. “Rhys is marked to be possessed by Gaelleod.”
Chapter 7
Possessed? Rhys wrenched upright, scowling at the row of backs hunched over Violet’s desk. Did the girl of his dreams just say, possessed? “Hold up. Just wait a damn second. Are you now telling me Leo is like one of those pod people from Invasion of the Body Snatchers?”
His hands tingled like they’d fallen asleep, and he flexed his fingers before cramming them in the back pockets of his jeans. The string of deaths, the jolt of electricity that had come out of left field and exploded through his body… Jesus H. Christ, what was next?
Faedrah straightened, her chin elevated as if she were hatching a plan to take on the entire alien force. “I am unfamiliar with the history of this invasion. Exactly how many bodies were snatched?”
He slumped. “No, it was a made-up story, but that’s kinda my point. People just don’t go around getting possessed. At least not in this era.”
“Nor in mine.” She squinted, tapping a finger against her lips, the far-off stare she aimed at the wall a sure sign the spring loaded coils in her head were cocking back to face plant him in a big ol’ pile of shit.
Violet swung to the left-hand monitor networked on her desk like a CIA operative and pulled up a fresh browser. A few clicks of the keyboard, and she leaned toward the screen. “Too bad the Catholic Church never got the memo.” Spinning away, jerked her thumb at the search results. “Last year alone, they recorded over one thousand cases of demonic possession.”
Jon shuddered. “As of tomorrow, I’m hanging a crucifix in every room in our condo.”
“And we can stop at the store for garlic on the way home.” Oliver nodded.
Rhys rolled his eyes. This entire conversation had morphed into an episode of The Twilight Zone. Though he had to admit, Leo being possessed by an evil entity described his father’s personality to a T. His focus landed on Leo’s picture, and Rhys ground his back teeth. How many times had he stared into that face as a kid? How many hours had he wasted cowering in fear?
“Faedrah’s suggestion does hold weight, Rhys.” Violet returned to her computers and tapped a folder on the right-hand screen. “Check this out.” Two side-by-side photos of Rhys’ grandfather filled the monitor, one a young Rayburn presumably before he stepped in as chairman of McEleod Industries, the other supposedly taken sometime after. “I got the same hinky feeling from these two pictures of Rayburn as I did from the ones of Leo. Like the men were different, somehow. Not the same guy.” She slid the mouse to the left and the split image raced across the center monitor’s divided view of Leo before and after he took control of the company, to resettle on the screen on her far left. A double picture of Oscar remained on the right, again half the screen apparently before he took control, the other half sometime after. “Same here. Something’s just not right on Oscar’s face.”
A click and all three screens flashed, shuffling the “after” pictures of Leo, Rayburn and Oscar to the center so they were displayed like a tri-fold brochure. “If anything, these are the three faces that look the most similar to me.”
Rhys stepped close and his stomach dove for his boots. No. It just couldn’t be. But there was no denying those three men had the exact same smile…if that greasy leer qualified as a smile.
God dammit. He turned away, digging his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. As if doing so could erase the visual. As if the motion could somehow rewind time to before they’d arrived at Violet’s so he could forget this whole fucked up mess.
He dropped his hand and exhaled a long, slow breath. “Okay. For the sake of argument, let’s forget reality for a second and say this is all true.” He faced the group. “How the hell does he do it? How does Gaelleod jump from one body to the next?” Realization knocked him upside the head, shooting the coffee and toast he’d eaten for breakfast up the back of his throat. “And even better, what the hell happened to those men? Where are their souls? Are they still in there with him?”
“Gads.” The color drained from Oliver’s face. “I never thought of that. Talk about a living hell.”
Yeah, no shit. Welcome to my world. Sharp prickles flooded his fingers and Rhys shook his head, stowing his fists under his crossed arms.
“I fear those lights were extinguished long ago.” Faedrah’s whisper drew his attention, and he squinted at the sadness softening her eyes. It was the same damn misery she’d been fighting all morning. Ever since she woke up thrashing in his arms, screaming over…
He froze.
That fucking nightmare.
A sardonic huff blurted from his lips. Faedrah knew exactly what had happened. Yet, here they were again. Always keeping secrets.
Well, not any more. It was high time she learned pulling that shit on him was useless.
He strolled forward, his body buzzing, jaw cranked tight enough to chew glass. He leaned in liked he was about to kiss her, and stopped just short of her lips. “So, Princess. You ready to share your dream with the rest of the class?”
One of her eyebrows rose. Her gaze flicked to his mouth and back before she squinted. “This ability you have to ramble about inside my head has become quite distressing.”
Good. She’d received the message loud and clear. He closed the distance and pecked her lips. No more holding back. About anything.
She smoothed her palm down her stomach, tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her hand, and he smirked. Shit, she was sexy when she got flustered. He could spend the rest of his life ruffling her feathers.
“Nevertheless, yes.” Her eyes widened to with her sarcastic jab. “Rhys is correct. The visions which burrowed into my sleep provided glimpses of how Gaelleod may have achieved such a transformation.”
“Ohhh…” Oliver and Jon crooned in understanding, nodding their heads.
“That’s why you were so upset last night.” Oliver grimaced. “What did you see?”
Just like that, her breathing grew shaky. She side-stepped and glanced around the room like she would’ve rather phoned in an exit. A weak smile came and went before she cleared her throat. “’Tis hard to find the proper words.”
Shit. Not good.
“Hey.” Rhys clasped her hands and brought them to his chest. For Christ’s sake, what had happened to the confident girl who stared him down just a few seconds ago? “It’s okay. I’m right here.”
She nodded, filled her lungs and, exhaling, closed her eyes. “Gaelleod had secreted us within the lower level of his dank chambers. You were bound by your wrists, suspended from the ceiling by thick iron chains. A man stood behind me, gripping my arms to deter my escape.”
Above the fringe of her long lashes, her eyeballs skipped back and forth. Mentally, she’d gone back to Leo’s basement. She was reliving every fucking moment the bastard had pumped into her sleep. Rhys released one of her hands and cupped the back of her head, lowering the soft skin between her eyebrows to his lips. “I got you. You’re with me.”
A shiver wracked her shoulders. “He promised my freedom, yet also maintained I must first bear his heir.”
Something violent twisted inside him. The loud whine of speaker feedback filled his ears. If that asshole got anywhere near her, Rhys would rip his fucking head off.
“You thrashed against your restraints, demanding he release me.” Her eyelids squeezed tight. “Gaelleod lifted a blade. Recited an incantation. Magic glowed as he plunged the jagged knife toward your chest.” She shoved out of his arms and reeled back, tripping over her feet.
“This body you wear shall impregnate her for me…”
Her whisper coated the room in a layer of silence. The only sound; Faedrah choking back a sob, the back of her hand pressed against her lips.
Sweet Jesus. No wonder she didn’t want to tell him. Two strides forward and he wrapped her in his arms, rubbing her back. Had their positions been reversed and he’d watched her get stabbed to death while being able to do nothing about it, he’d have worked damn hard at keeping that imagery to himself. “Shhh…it’s over. It was just a dream.”
“No.” She pushed against him a second time and aimed a sharp finger at the center monitor on Violet’s desk. “’Twas not just a dream. Gaelleod means to possess you, just as he has every male heir since the dawn of his resurrection.”
No. That was impossible. They’d taken a bunch of ridiculous ideas and strung them together with facts that overlooked common sense. He wasn’t anything like Leo. And he never would be.
“Well…” Violet sat up and slapped her hands on her knees. “At the very least, I think we can all agree Faedrah’s dream perfectly matches the M.O. For what it’s worth, Gaelleod has apparently tapped into some arcane energy source which allows him to transfer his soul into his dying son.”
Rhys almost laughed, and probably would have had the sour churning in his stomach not told him he was up a crick named shit without a paddle. “Now hold on. There is something seriously wrong with this picture.”
Violet crossed her arms. “Like what?”
“Well…” Rhys tossed his hands in the air. “For starters, I’ve never once witnessed Leo using any kind of magic.” All his father ever cared about was the family business, how to best cheat someone out of their next buck. They might be estranged, but Rhys liked to think that, as a kid, he would’ve noticed if Leo had been boiling a cauldron of bat wings in the kitchen.
“Maybe he can’t.” The leather couch cushion farted like a whoopie cushion as Todd sat forward and shoved a throw pillow behind his back. “Maybe once this Gaelleod fucker does his ritual, all his energy is drained, enough that it takes several years for him to get ready for the next go-round.” He dipped his head to the side, the corners of his mouth turned down. “Maybe even, say, a lifetime?”
Oliver’s eyebrows jacked toward his hairline and he exchanged a nod with Jon.
Rhys slumped. God dammit, they had an answer for everything.
“That would suggest Gaelleod’s powers are once again at an all-time high.” Faedrah wagged a finger. “A dire circumstance, to be sure.” She frowned at her feet, chewing her bottom lip. “I must be crafty. Sneak in to pilfer the map whilst his attention is otherwise engaged.”
His shoulders ratcheted back. Wait…what?
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He slashed a hand through the air. “You’re not going anywhere near him. In fact, if anyone’s going after the map, it’s me. I’m the only one who knows where it’s hidden.” And if he just so happened to run into the bastard, even better.
In fact, maybe a little father-son time was exactly what the doctor had ordered. Rhys could stare his dad dead in the eye and see for himself how Leo handled these accusations.
She slowly lifted her head and locked onto his face. “Should he be able to detain you, all would be lost. My presence is not required for Gaelleod to perform the ceremony and inhabit your form. And ʼtis my realm which suffers the consequences of his diabolical plague.”
Desperation shaded her eyes as she walked toward him. “You cannot enter his domain, Rhys. I beg you. If such an opportunity arose, he would gain the exact arrangement of his ultimate scheme.”
No. She misunderstood. “I don’t give a flying fuck about his scheme. It’s mine I care about, Faedrah. Mine.” His body hummed, fingers tingling. A strange pressure expanded in his gut. “I need to hear him say it. I need to see Leo’s face when he confesses the truth. Don’t you get it? He owes me that. After everything he’s put me through, it’s the least I deserve.”
Her eyes slipped closed and she placed a hand on his chest, sighing. A second passed before she blinked and offered him a gentle smile; nodded. “Then we go together. Always and forever together.”
“Oh, good God.” Oliver clamped a hand on top of his head. “Caedmon and Rowena are going to kill me. Isn’t there any way we can just call the police and have Leo arrested?”
“On what grounds?” Violet opened her palms over the arms of her chair. “As far as the City of Chicago is concerned, Leo McEleod hasn’t committed any crime.”
Right. Not to mention, Rhys wouldn’t be surprised if Leo had a few of the higher-ups in his back pocket. He released Faedrah and paced a couple steps away. Forbes definitely had a point, though. Going in without backup was just plain dumb. On the other hand, it wasn’t like they had a lot of options. The people they could trust made up a very short list.
He snapped his fingers. “Got it. I know exactly who we can call. A guy who’s made it a habit of watching my back.” Tugging his cell from his pocket, he hit speed dial and put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Nate. I need a favor.”
Muted light slivered the darkness from between the drawn drapes of Leo’s study. Rhys squinted, muscles stiff, crouched beside Faedrah in the shrubbery bordering his dad’s backyard. “Shit. I can’t
tell if anyone’s inside. Looks like we might just have to risk it.”
“What that I would give to have the reassurance of my short swords at my back.” Her frustrated sigh cut short as a light flicked on in a second floor bedroom. “Thank the nine. Perhaps we’ve dallied long enough and Gaelleod is finally preparing for his nightly slumber.”
“Or Grady’s up there turning down the bed.” Rhys pulled his cell from his pocket. “Either way, I’m sick of waiting. The sooner we get in, the quicker we can get the hell out.”
He winced at the glare of the LED screen, thumbed the text app and typed in a message.
At Leo’s. Headin in.
A second later, his phone buzzed with Nate’s return text.
Check. Twenty minutes.
It had taken some arm-twisting, followed by a firm handshake to surrender every portrait of Faedrah Rhys had in his collection but, in the end, Nate agreeing to wait down the block while he and Faedrah snuck inside was a huge shot in the arm. Especially since Nate had promised to run interference if he hadn’t heard from Rhys in twenty minutes. Given Nate’s street smarts, his business acumen and ability to keep a tight lid on his mouth, if the shit hit the fan there was no one Rhys trusted more to assess the situation and decide which steps came next.
And if this unauthorized stopover went according to plan, no harm done. Rhys could snap a picture of the map with his phone and Nate would be none the wiser. He could crawl into bed at night believing the half-truth Rhys had told him—he simply wanted to get his hands on a piece of memorabilia from his childhood, and preferred to do it without explaining his reasons to dear old dad.
“Okay, let’s go. The clock’s ticking.” He grabbed Faedrah’s arm and they hunched across the yard to the back door.
A smile threatened as he ran his fingertips along the top of the jamb and rescued the key from its hiding spot. Evidently, some things never changed. Or maybe Grady simply forgot he’d stashed it there after the last time Rhys had liberated himself for a night out as a teen. Regardless, that his father’s butler had left the key undisturbed all these years offered Rhys a sense of continuity, a belonging Leo had never once seen fit to give him.