by Ann Gimpel
She sent a thin thread of healing magic to repair her face as she worked on cleaning off the grime.
All in all, she’d been deucedly fortunate. Even if her mother hadn’t shown up, the Druid—Sean—had been standing by. She’d felt his magic just before Gloria blasted through a gateway, overshadowing everything with her potent witch abilities.
She removed the lid from a large stock kettle and dipped her rag into blessedly warm water, drawing it over her body and rinsing it out in the sink before putting it back into the kettle. She’d dump the water once she was done, but this way it would last longer before it became too dirty to use.
Once she was done with her body, she bent over the kettle, wetting her hair and picking bits of disgusting debris out of it.
Liliana rolled her eyes. She’d lived through this era, taken plenty of sponge baths. Absent servants, heating sufficient water to fill the old metal bathing tubs was quite a task. Water at the bottom of the tub grew cold long before more could be heated, so full-immersion baths were never much better than tepid affairs.
She grabbed a towel and dried herself, blotting water from her hair, before putting her clothes back on. She’d leave the cloak here. Maybe her mother would have a way to direct magic to clean it. Failing that, it could benefit from a stint with lye soap in the galvanized washtub tipped against a far wall. Wool took forever to dry, though, in perpetually damp Scotland. So long, sometimes garments developed a distinctly moldy smell that never went away.
Liliana smothered half a smile. She expected the movement to hurt, but her face was healing. Thank the goddess for magic to speed things along. The smile snuck out anyway—along with a funny tense spot mid-chest. She’d been diverting herself, specifically so she wouldn’t think about Sean. Such a pretty man with his head of curly brown hair and sparkling brown eyes that glinted with humor. He wasn’t especially tall, but he moved with a lithe grace that reminded her of a jungle cat on the prowl. Unlike her with her rumpled, stained, filthy clothing, his looked as fresh as if he’d just stepped out of a gentleman’s club.
His magic was strong, too. It had to be for him to hide his presence from her. Why had she sensed him when she did? Liliana narrowed her eyes in thought. She’d have to ask, but she was almost certain he’d been about to make a move. No other reason to reveal himself.
And then her mother had shown up.
Two saviors.
Her grin widened as she crouched to lace her tall boots. Feeling a million times better, she straightened and walked back through the curtains. The small, neat-as-a-pin house brought memories flooding back. Her mother always had a place for everything, and she’d chided Liliana for not returning items where they belonged.
She started for the door to round up Gloria and Sean, but it swung open, and they marched inside, faces and fingers red from the cold and water dripping off their outerwear. Her mother rolled her shoulders back. “Good use of our time. You’re clean, and I understand what we’re up against.”
Liliana glanced from Sean to Gloria. “Guess you two had quite the conversation.”
“You might say that.” Her mother’s keen gaze swept the cabin before she hurried to an empty bookcase. A jot of magic brought a riot of books and scrolls into view. Liliana offered her mother points for keeping her source materials sequestered behind wards.
“Which of our relatives are nearby?” she asked, followed by, “Why have they left you alone?”
Gloria didn’t even bother to look over a shoulder. “Who says they have?” she countered. “Rhea and her three sisters are a scourge. So much so, I was considering returning anyway. It’s damnably inconvenient to hide behind warding, but if I let it slip, they descend on me like a pack of crows.”
“What about their half dozen cousins?”
“Aye. They’re here as well. Still very much alive, unfortunately.” Gloria plucked several scrolls from her shelves, tossing them into a cloth sack.
“It isn’t as if they can force you to become a convert.” Liliana gritted her teeth, annoyed. Of all the witchy families, why the hell did she end up part of this one?
“Nay, but they alternate between showing up with tea and crumpets and setting traps that make me very careful whenever I set foot outside my door.”
“Speaking of that,” Sean cut in, “how’d you know your daughter was here?”
Gloria did turn around then and sent an incredulous look scudding his way. “Young man. Blood calls to its own. Do I appear weak magically?”
A muscle danced beneath one of Sean’s eyes, but he replied, “Not at all, Ms. Roskelly,” in a bland tone. Liliana thought he was done, but he was only resting up because he added, “About that young man part. You may be on shaky ground. Druids live at least as long as witches.”
Liliana’s mouth twitched, and she cut her gaze toward her mother. Gloria hated being corrected. Rather than the snappy sarcasm Liliana expected, though, Gloria turned back to her shelves, plucked three fat, black, leather-bound tomes, and added them to her bag. A wave of her hand and the shelves once again appeared empty of anything beyond a generous layer of dust.
“We should go,” Gloria said, followed by, “Get your cloak, child.”
“Erm. I thought I’d leave it here.”
Gloria furled russet brows. “You did, eh? Think again. There’s dry cleaning where we’re going. No reason for me to squander magic cleaning that fetid thing. Or energy scrubbing it. You’re scarcely ten anymore, daughter, and—”
“You can stop there.” To avoid the remainder of Gloria’s lecture, Liliana scooped up her discarded garment, folding it so the bad side was hidden. Once that was done, she swathed it with magic to cut the stench.
The corners of Sean’s mouth curled in what was probably amusement, but he didn’t make any cracks about her still kowtowing to her mother’s orders. She wondered if he had a family. Her eyes widened. Oh hell, he probably had a wife. It wasn’t as if he’d ridden through time to her aid.
He was pushed here, collateral damage from her dead ancestors who still had a stake in controlling Katerina. Or if not her, then her children. Liliana’s blood ran cold. Her mother had been wise when she’d argued the merits of Liliana not producing any more Roskelly witches.
Smarter than me by a longshot.
Gloria leveled a knowing look her way. “Knowledge is often like that. Too little, too late.”
“Christ, Mother. Will I ever be old enough to escape your jibes?”
“Probably not.”
Liliana bit back a snarky reply, opting for information instead. “I have a question. The man who apprehended me was clearly a Hunter. I thought they’d all died out by now.”
Gloria thinned her lips into a bitter line. “It’s what they wanted us to think. They’re ever so much more effective as stealth operatives.”
Liliana shook a fist at the air. “Fuckers.”
“Why should they change?” Gloria shrugged. “What they do works for them.”
“Yeah, but not for us,” Liliana replied sourly.
“I know you don’t require my magic,” Sean inserted, his voice rich as aged whiskey, “but I’m glad to contribute to our return spell.”
“Where are we emerging?” Gloria asked.
“My house,” Sean and Liliana said nearly in unison.
“Since the two of you don’t know one another, or didn’t before today, which house is it?” Gloria asked as power built around her. “My vote would be for landing in Inverness, not California. That way, we’ll be close enough to my granddaughter to do some good.”
Liliana sucked in a tight breath. “I agree about being in Scotland, but I really need to stop by my home first, get a few things, and arrive across the Atlantic by airplane. Like a human, not a witch.”
“Why?” Gloria’s red brows were furled like flags. “What could possibly be so important you can’t buy what you need in Inverness?”
“My grimoire.” Liliana was hedging, but she wasn’t looking forward to her promised
soul-baring session with Katerina.
“Hogwash.” Gloria’s voice was flat. She released her magic, and the air turned shimmery with light as she stalked to Liliana and dropped a heavy hand atop her shoulder. Switching to Gaelic, she said, “Ye brought this on yourself. Ye insisted on keeping Katerina in the dark about her heritage. After ye insisted on birthing her.” Her voice softened. “I ken ye thought the hens wouldna come home to roost, but now they have.”
Liliana coughed and then cleared her throat. “Kat and I covered some of that ground on the phone, but Christ, Mother, I have to tell her about Warren. About how he died. She’ll be devastated.”
“Maybe.” Gloria turned a hand palm up. “She’s nearly forty, fully grown, successful in her own right. Give her a wee bit of credit. If she’s angry about anything, it will be us not preparing her for an end run on Rhea’s part.”
A corner of Liliana’s mouth twisted downward. “You always predicted Rhea would surface and make a play for Kat.”
“And ye never believed me.” Gloria made a rude snorting noise. “Should have stood ye a wager, daughter. I could have cleaned ye out.”
“Can we hash this over once we’re safely back in Inverness?” Sean asked, and then added, “I’ll take care of guiding us to the proper spot.” The clean, sweet scent of Druid magic rose from him, damp moorlands, heather, and gorse thickets, mixed with piquant undernotes.
Liliana breathed in his scent. It made her long for his arms around her, and the press of his chiseled mouth atop hers…
Stop. Just stop. What the hell is wrong with me?
Other than not being laid in years, nothing much, she answered herself.
To cover her discomfiture, she tossed her own power into the mix. It diverted her from longing for the Druid glistening with magic that painted him with an otherworldly splendor. Or from wondering what the sticky bits clinging to her fingertips were. Something dead and disgusting from her cloak, no doubt.
Gloria shepherded their magic, weaving it into a powerful shroud pulsing with enchantment. The mix of witch and Druid magics created a product more powerful than either by itself. Liliana seemed to recollect mingled power was exponentially stronger.
The walls of her mother’s house fell away, replaced by the black nothingness of a time-travel passageway. Sandwiched between her mother’s familiar magic and Sean’s heady ability, a sense of exhilaration filled her. She recalled the incantation back in her basement, her stumbling efforts to kindle her spell.
This was far better. It pounded home how remiss she’d been about her power. No more. From now on, she’d give it the time and attention it deserved. Being a witch would come first.
It had to, or she’d be vulnerable next time Rhea showed up, which was unacceptable since she had to protect her daughter.
Ha! Kat looks to have done a fair job protecting herself, but at least she won’t have to bail me out.
In far less time than she expected, the airless void between eras subsided, and a stately great room formed around them. Polished dark-wood furniture was arranged in small conversational groups atop authentic looking Oriental rugs. Silver, crystal, and bronze artifacts were scattered throughout the room, and paintings graced the walls.
Sean bowed low. “Welcome to my home.”
“Looks more like a castle,” Gloria noted.
“It is, but they’re common as goose grass in the Highlands.” Sean held out a hand. “If you turn loose of that cloak, I’ll drop it in the laundry. Once it’s had a turn through the washer, we’ll spread it out to dry.”
“Wouldn’t hear of it,” Liliana said.
He looked askance at her and switched to Gaelic. “Were ye planning to hang onto that stinking bit of wool for a long time, lass?”
Heat rose from her chest, sweeping over her head, until she was certain she had to be bright red. “Not sure I was planning anything,” she mumbled and dropped her cloak into his outstretched hand.
“Back in short order,” he said. “I need to contact Arlen. He and some of our order showed up this morning just afore I was removed from Inverness. He’ll be searching for me, and I don’t want him to waste any more magic than he already has.”
Sean ran lightly from the room, vanishing through an archway at its end. Liliana sent what she hoped was an unobtrusive thread of magic outward. If he had a wife—or a girlfriend—elements of her essence would be detectable.
“Why didn’t you come for me sooner?” Gloria demanded, her question breaking into Liliana’s concentration.
“Because I only just found out what had transpired.” Liliana batted back defensiveness. “I don’t live anywhere near here, remember? Once I discovered Rhea was on the loose, I ordered Kat to return home—without her Druid lover.”
“Aye? And how’d that go?” Understated humor lined Gloria’s words.
“About how you’d expect,” Liliana retorted. “She refused.” Turning, she faced her mother squarely. “We’d decided to keep her Roskelly heritage hidden, and—”
“No. You made that decision. I went along with it,” Gloria corrected her.
“Regardless, I’ll be breaking our pact. However it came to be. Damn it, Mother. Why am I always on the ragged edge of explaining myself with you?”
Gloria drew her brows together. “I don’t know about ‘always,’ but in this instance you were wrong. You picked the easy path to smooth the short haul, regardless of consequences down the line. Did you truly think Rhea would roll over in her crypt and sleep the next few millennia away?”
“A witch can dream,” Liliana mumbled.
“Aye, and hope as well, but your grandmother was a power to be reckoned with. Like an ill wind, she blows up shit, not caring who she hurts so long as her agenda moves forward.” Gloria bent closer. “You paid her so little heed, you never even asked about the gap.”
“Huh? What gap?” Liliana shook her head to clear her thoughts. It didn’t work very well. Between being captured and used as a punching bag—never mind fearing for her life—her mind was a jumble.
“A generation sits betwixt me and Rhea. It’s why she’s Kat’s great-great grandmother.”
Liliana swallowed hard. “What happened to…whoever came between?”
“Yanna was my mother. She embraced Black Magic, hook, line, and sinker. Got a wee bit too enthusiastic and summoned a demon. It dragged her to Hell, and that was that.” Gloria dusted her hands together.
Liliana curled her fingers around her mother’s arm. “It appears I’m not the only one holding secrets from the next generation. All you ever told me when I asked about your mother was she’d died. What do you mean, that was that?”
“Never heard from her again. If Rhea is to be believed, Yanna became an indentured servant for evil. No one ever returns from Hell.” A pinched look coated the outer corners of Gloria’s eyes. “Made me all the more determined to stay as far as I could from dark power.”
Pain for her mother’s loss seared Liliana. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
“Don’t be. It’s a waste of energy. What’s done is done.”
Sean hurried back through the archway. “We’re about to have company. Arlen was relieved you’re here—almost as pleased as he was to hear from me. And Katerina was ecstatic.”
Liliana tried to read what was beneath his words, but couldn’t figure it out, so she quirked a quizzical brow. “Of course he’d be concerned about you.”
“Aye, but it runs deeper than that. I’m a perfect second for him because I have no interest in taking over as Arch Druid. Most seconds would be nipping at his heels after a few centuries.”
“Makes sense,” Liliana murmured.
“My granddaughter.” Gloria leveled her gaze at Sean. “Will she accompany Arlen?”
Sean grinned, displaying very straight teeth nested in his strong, square jaw. “They’re inseparable.”
“Perfect. It will be good to lay eyes on her.”
“And explain how it is you’re not dead?” Liliana ask
ed archly.
“She’ll understand. Now she knows about her witchy blood.”
Liliana sucked in a breath and blew it out, wishing she was as confident about her daughter’s positive mental state as her mother seemed to be. “Who else is coming?”
“I’m not certain,” Sean replied. “Probably half a dozen Druids, at least. Perhaps more. This morning was a direct attack on me, first time such a thing has happened to any of us in over a century. We’ll be launching a war council to craft plans so none of us are caught unaware again.”
“Are there other witches in the area?” Gloria asked.
Sean shook his head. “Not that I know of. Not before this morning, anyway. To be sure, there are Wicca practitioners and a few hedge witches with scarcely enough power to light a candle, but none with sufficient gifts to be of use.”
“See?” Gloria elbowed Liliana. “I’m not the only one who fled modern times. Many of us used to live in this region.”
“Mmph,” Liliana mumbled, not wanting to argue. They had bigger problems.
“Why did you leave?” Curiosity lined Sean’s question.
Gloria cocked her head to one side and transferred her direct gaze to him. “Do ye never tire of living in an era that discounts magic? Where ye canna practice your craft except in the dead of night?”
“Aye, I ken your meaning well enough,” he replied, matching her Gaelic. “But the time ye chose scarcely accepts paranormal displays. Ye might have selected a few centuries earlier.”
Gloria turned her hands palms up. “’Twas a difficult choice. Witches dinna fare well in the sixteen- or seventeen-hundreds. Earlier than that, and life was truly deficient in creature comforts.”
A blast of power rocked Liliana. She turned in time to see the tall front doors fly open, admitting a string of people. Power shone from them, making her proud of the magic that kindled her blood. Liliana raced forward, searching the crowd for Katerina’s flame-red hair.