by Ann Gimpel
“Mom!” Kat hurtled from the back of the crowd and into her arms.
Liliana held her tight and fought the thick place in her throat that meant tears were near the surface. “I love you, Katerina. I’m sorry. I should have—”
Kat reared back and shook her head. “None of that. You did what you thought was best for me. It’s what parents do.”
Gloria ran to where they stood and wrapped her arms around them from the side. “’Tis a wondrous thing to lay eyes on you again, granddaughter.”
A warm laugh bubbled from Kat, and she smiled. “Lots of wondrous things here of late, Gran. And some pretty hideous ones as well. I’m just glad you’re not dead.”
“When did ye figure it out?” Gloria still spoke Gaelic. If Liliana’s suspicions were spot on, her mother was too overcome with emotion to sort out English words.
“About the time it sank in I was a witch.” Kat disentangled herself from both of them and yelled, “Arlen.”
“Aye, darling.” A tall, rangy man with shoulder-length black hair and shrewd dark eyes joined them. When he extended a hand, power shimmered around him. “’Tis a pleasure to meet your kinswomen. This batch, anyway.”
“No kidding. The darker half of the family is a real downer.” Liliana gripped his hand. When she let go, Gloria clasped it.
A shrill whistle was followed by Sean’s voice. “Into the dining room, everyone. Let’s unleash this war council.”
“We’ll get to know one another later.” Arlen smiled. It lit his face from within, and Liliana understood why Kat had fallen hard for him. He was a striking man, but kindness shone from his eyes, and he looked at Kat as if she were the most precious gift in the world.
For a long, heartbreaking moment, she let herself think about Warren. He’d looked at her the same way—until he understood he was dying because she was a witch. After that, he didn’t look at her at all.
“Mom?” Katerina’s blue-green gaze settled squarely on her.
“I’m fine,” she replied brusquely and focused her next words at Arlen. “I’m guessing you know where the dining room is.”
“I do, indeed. Come with me.” He draped an arm around Kat.
Liliana and Gloria fell into step behind them.
Before they entered another oversized room, this one occupied by a long, polished oaken table that could seat two dozen, Gloria pulled her aside. “The past has no place here. If we do what we should have done years back, we’ll banish Rhea and her bloody, fucking sisters to Hell.”
“We’ve never been strong enough to tackle them,” Liliana pointed out, adding, “Stay out of my mind. None of this is easy for me.”
“I’ll do what I believe necessary,” her mother retorted. “We may not have been strong enough in the past to deal with Rhea, but now we have help.” A feral smile carved into Gloria’s face, turning her beauty harsh and menacing.
“Indeed,” Liliana echoed. “Now we have help.” She hoped it would be sufficient as she followed Gloria to a couple of empty seats. Goodness spilled from the Druids ranged around the table. Determination, too.
How many of them would die because they’d chosen to offer aid to the only three White Witch Roskellys in history?
Shit. Crap. What the unholy fuck is wrong with me? I need to mend my attitude.
Suspicion flared; she warded her mind. Either she was well beyond tired, or some of her less savory relatives were nearby, huddling in the ether to eavesdrop.
And planting hopelessness and despair for sport.
“Before we begin”—Liliana raised her voice to make sure everyone heard her—“ward this room.”
“Sound suggestion.” Arlen sent a pointed glance her way and asked, “Any particular reason?”
“Not sure, but we may well have unwanted company.”
Gloria shot to her feet and spun in a circle, arms stretched outward and magic crackling from her fingertips. She set her mouth in a grim line. “Aye. They’re out there, all right. Along with a handpicked cadre from the other side. Not especially close, but present nonetheless.” She clapped Liliana on the shoulder before sitting again. “Good call, daughter.”
Her eyes widened. Praise from her mother was such a rare event, it warmed her. Magic thickened as everyone shared power to create a solid ward. As it formed, developing a life of its own, at least the ugly bleakness lifted, and her thoughts were her own once again.
Thank all the gods and goddesses she’d guessed right. No one else had noticed anything amiss. Chilly tendrils wound around her spine. Rhea and her ilk might be dead, but it didn’t make them any less dangerous.
Probably more so since the simple methods of killing wouldn’t make a dent. Her mother had mentioned forcing Rhea and her sisters into Hell. Liliana had no idea what that might take, but if it required actually descending into Satan’s realm, escape might prove impossible. The icy fingers stroking her spine grew colder still.
She forced her attention to Sean and Arlen. They’d begun talking, and she didn’t want to miss anything.
“What happened after I was forcibly ejected from Inverness?” Sean asked.
“Unfortunately, not much,” Arlen replied, his tone sour. “I swung my blade, beheaded one of the witches, and the rest scattered. I counted ten but there might have been more.”
“Aye, along with a demon of some sort. I couldn’t identify it because I couldn’t see it clearly,” a woman with long, silver hair added.
“It had red eyes, right?” Sean angled his gaze toward the woman.
“Indeed. Eerie, penetrating, and blood red. You saw it too?”
“That I did, Morgan.” He nodded grimly. “That I did.”
Chapter 6
Sean did his job as Arlen’s second, herding comments back to productive ground when they went astray. They’d been at it for at least two hours, and everyone was tired. His usual even-handed mood felt frayed, and he recognized they’d passed the point where they were accomplishing much.
He waited for a break in the action and said, “Arlen. A moment, please.”
The other Druid turned to him. “Aye?” Annoyance scored his tone.
“We need sustenance. Rest.”
A murmuring susurrus of assent swept around the table. A dozen Druids were here, along with the three witches. After Liliana’s initial discovery that they were being stalked from the dark side of the spirit world, their warding seemed to have done the trick. The few times he’d felt beyond their protective barrier, he hadn’t sensed anything untoward. His best guess was their uninvited guests had cashed in their chips and given up.
For now.
He swallowed a wry grin. Evil never had much of an attention span. It was one of many small things that could work in their favor—if they leveraged them properly.
“Seems everyone but me agrees with you.” Arlen pursed his mouth into a thin line. “Recapping what we have so far, we will lure Rhea Roskelly and her sisters. Once they’re nearby, we’ll trap them with magic, kill them, and ensure a one-way trip to Hell before they recover sufficiently from their deathblows to fight back.”
“More or less.” Sean nodded, knowing it sounded far simpler than it would play out. “The part you didn’t mention is we’ll travel backward in time, to a place they’re all still alive. They’ll be far less trouble newly dead than they are right now.”
He wasn’t at all certain of that, but it sounded good.
“I still think you should use me as bait.” Katerina sat taller.
“Not going to happen.” Arlen stared daggers at his wife-to-be. “Your magic is strong, but green and unproven.”
“I resent that.” Kat pushed to her feet, squaring off against him. “I did all right the second time Rhea kidnapped me. Even figured out how to summon power and escape my chains.”
“Ha! More than I managed.” Liliana cast a fond glance at her daughter. “But it would have been tough to do much of anything with that abominable priest breathing down my neck. What little power I could muster
was focused on keeping myself away from his extraordinary collection of torture devices.”
“Lil or I will be the bait,” Gloria said firmly. “The draw is one more Roskelly to stir the cauldron—and produce children. Rhea won’t care which of us it is.”
“You don’t know that,” Kat argued. “So far, it’s me she’s had her sights set on.”
“Only because your mother and I told her to fuck off—multiple times,” Gloria shot back.
Sean recognized they’d hit an impasse. He scrambled out of his chair and made shooing motions. “Up and moving people. I’m headed for the kitchen. If anyone feels like helping me put food on plates, I’d be grateful for the help.”
“Mind if I dredge through your spirits for a few likely bottles?” Arlen arched a brow.
Sean chuckled. “You’ve grown exceedingly polite. You never used to ask. Must be trying to create a good impression for your almost-wife.”
“Too late for that.” Kat favored him with a grin and tucked a hand beneath Arlen’s arm. Together, they strolled out a side door leading to one of the basements where Sean kept his liquor stores.
“I’ll be upstairs in the library for a bit. There’s lore I want to check on,” Morgan said. Long, silvery hair floated around her slight form, and her dark eyes held a worried aspect. A librarian who dealt in antiquities, she was undisputed lore mistress for their Druid clan.
“I’ll let you know when the food is ready,” Sean called after her.
“Thanks. Or maybe just save me something.” Her body developed a numinous aspect before she teleported one floor up.
One by one, the other Druids wandered out of the room.
“I can help with dishing something up,” Liliana offered. “I’m a fair hand in the kitchen, and I’m starving, so I’m motivated to be quick about things.”
Gloria clapped her on the back. “As you well know, I can burn water. I’ll follow that Druid upstairs to the library.” She patted the cloth sack slung over her shoulder. “She might be interested in the items I brought along. What’s her name?”
“Morgan,” Sean replied. “And the library is—”
“I’m sure I can locate it.” Gloria trotted nimbly out of the room.
Turning to Liliana, Sean said, “You can just sit for a while if you’d prefer. You look beat.”
“Thanks.” She snorted. “Never tell a woman she looks trashed. I want to help. Means I’ll get to eat that much faster.”
“Follow me, then.” He strode out of the dining room and turned hard left for the kitchens. Old castles like this one had several layers of food preparation areas, but he’d modernized them, along with the rest of the nineteenth century structure.
He did his best to conceal his pleasure at the prospect of having Liliana close to him, but maybe she was too tapped out to help herself to his thoughts. She really did look exhausted. Most of the bruising had left her face, but dark circles etched beneath her eyes. He wanted to care for her, shield her.
And he most certainly did not want to offer her up for bait any more than Arlen wanted Katerina to serve in that role. Sean reeled himself in. Arlen had a right to weigh in on Katerina’s actions. He had less than none insofar as Liliana was concerned.
They barely knew one another.
The smile he’d been sitting on broke loose. No time like the present to remedy the barely knowing one another part. He shouldered a swinging door open, holding it and motioning her through.
Liliana marched past him. A sound that might have been approval whooshed from her, and she twisted from side to side taking in the stainless-steel appliance extravaganza, the marble counters, and the butcher block rolling tables scattered strategically throughout the generous space.
“Wow.” She looked at him, speculation lining her face. “Were you a chef in a prior life?”
Sean chuckled. “Nay. A sucker in the current one is all. When I renovated the castle, I’m afraid I offered carte blanche to the designers and building crew. It seemed easier than scripting their every move.”
Her generous mouth formed a soft smile. “I’ve always wanted a kitchen like this, but I’m too cheap to blow the kind of cash this must have taken.”
“Why?” He held up a hand. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s all right. When I grew up, resources were scarce, and I got into the habit of making do with the least I could get by with. Mother taught me early that any show of wealth would bring us unwanted attention, and maybe someone would look too closely and discover we were witches. It didn’t help I earned most of my money as a healer, which meant I had to be very careful. If one person hovering at the brink of death made a miraculous recovery, no one thought much of it.”
“Aye, but if ten of your patients bounced back, ye’d be suspect.” Sean switched to Gaelic, a more natural language for him.
“Precisely.”
“Ye told Father Abernathy ye were a doctor.”
Liliana nodded. “I did, and ’tis true.” She matched his Gaelic and rolled her eyes. “I finally lived long enough to find an era where women are allowed to take on more than menial, supporting roles. And I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t enjoying the hell out of it.”
As she talked, he let his gaze rove over her. Nearly his height, she appeared strong and capable with a no-nonsense bearing that matched her chosen profession. Her green eyes shaded from clear emerald to a deeper moss color. Unbound, her midnight hair spilled to waist level, showcasing a high forehead and arched cheekbones that suggested Asian or Native blood.
“Do I pass?” she inquired archly.
His face grew warm. “Sorry. Dinna mean to stare.” He stopped before blurting how stunning she was. Inserting action to cover his embarrassment, he crossed the room to an enormous stainless-steel cold box and opened the double doors.
She followed him and took things as he handed them out, arranging them in a row on a counter. “What’s in here?” She tapped a large plastic container.
“Chicken-and-wild-rice soup. Thought we’d heat it up and serve it with cold cuts, cheese, and bread.”
Liliana swiped the back of one hand across her mouth. “Damn. Just hearing about food makes me salivate. Point me to the pans, and I’ll start heating the soup.”
They worked in a companionable silence for a few minutes—with him taking over watching the soup—before he felt gutsy enough to ask, “Where are you from originally?”
She glanced up from slicing cheese—and tossing every third or fourth piece into her mouth. “The States.”
Surprise rocked him. He’d assumed she hailed from the UK. “How is it—?” He wasn’t sure how to articulate the question.
Liliana nodded. “Mother moved to San Francisco as soon as she knew she was pregnant. Magic is weaker in the States, and she was determined to foil whatever plans Rhea had for me.”
“What happened to your da?”
A shadow crossed Liliana’s face, and she turned away from him, attacking the cheese with a vengeance. “Ouch. Damn it.” The knife clattered to the counter, and she stuck a finger in her mouth.
He should stay on his own side of the kitchen tending the stock kettle where the soup was coming up to temperature. After a losing battle with “should,” he hurried to her side. “Did ye hurt yourself? Can I do aught to help?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice was muffled since her finger still resided firmly in her mouth. “I have healing magic. Remember?”
“I’m sorry. I…” He took a step back to give her space. “It’s just I want to know more about you, and the only way I know how to do that is by asking questions. Didn’t mean for it to come off as an interrogation.”
She shook her head and twisted to face him, pulling her finger out of her mouth. Blood flowed freely, and she raised her other hand. Magic sparked from her fingertips, and the cut place began to draw itself together.
“Men don’t fare so well in witchy circles.”
“But some of your breed are male,�
�� he pointed out.
“Aye, mayhap so, but not in the Roskelly line.”
He should keep his mouth shut, but the next question forced its way out. “What about male children? Surely ye produce them.” Damn. He was back to speaking Gaelic. It revealed how uncomfortable he was.
She blew out a sad-sounding breath, and her shoulders slumped. “The male children never make it past the earliest part of gestation.” He opened his mouth, but she waved him to silence. “Let me get through this. Won’t take long. I don’t know who my father was, only that he was human.”
Another soul-crushing breath whooshed from her. Sean yearned to gather her close, soothe her, but remained where he stood. She wasn’t asking for comfort, and he’d be damned if he’d do anything that made it appear he saw her as anything but strong and able to fight her own battles.
As if to corroborate his impression, pride shone from her eyes—along with determination and pain.
“Turns out Mother was the wise one.” Liliana pursed her mouth into a moue. “Rhea never ferreted out who sired me. Meant he was safe enough.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t as careful. Times had changed since my birth in the 1860s. It took well over a century before I fell in love. Mother warned me. Told me to keep Warren a secret, but I was full of hubris and determined to show him off to the world. We were married in a huge, flashy ceremony with hundreds of guests—including my Roskelly kinswomen.”
Her eyes sheened, but she kept on talking. “I ignored mother when she found out I was pregnant and ordered me to abort the child. Words passed between us. Unpleasant ones. She left, returned to her home in Nevada. And we didn’t speak for months.”
Sean took a step nearer, and then one more. He read most of the rest of the story in her heart and mind, and his soul ached for her. “How long afore Rhea made a move?” His voice was so harsh and flat, he scarcely recognized it.
“She muscled her way in right after I gave birth.” Liliana shook her head. “Christ but I was a fool. I was so entranced with my baby, I never noticed her intent until it was too late.”