by Ann Gimpel
“She fed off your husband, didn’t she? Destroyed his immortal soul.”
“Och aye. Until naught remained but a shell.” Liliana spoke Gaelic now, too. “Katerina doesn’t know. She believes her father died on a medical mission to Africa.”
The tears glistening in Liliana’s green eyes spilled over; she brushed them away, impatiently. A small smear of blood coated her cheek from her cut finger. “I have no excuses. None. I did what I thought was right to protect my daughter, and I ended up nearly signing her death warrant.”
Sean couldn’t stand not touching her. He wrapped a hand around her upper arm, offering what support he could. “Betimes, there are no right choices. Ye raised an independent woman, one who can think for herself, one who has excelled in her chosen field. Doona focus on what ye could have done differently. No matter how much we pick the past apart, we never change aught about it.”
She leaned into his touch for the barest moment before pulling away. “Thanks, but if I’d told her the truth, she’d—”
“Ye have no way of knowing what changes ye’d have wrought.” He regarded her. “One of my talents is scrying both past and future, although I’m careful where I look. The diverging path of one choice taken, while another is disregarded, is rarely worth the magic to pursue—unless ye’re considering a future that has yet to occur.”
Liliana fished in a pocket and drew out a handkerchief. She wiped her damp cheeks and blew her nose. “I’ll be fine once I get through talking with my daughter. I promised her the truth, and I owe it to her.”
The smell of almost scorching soup sent him galloping across the kitchen to shut the gas flame off. A quick stir reassured him nothing had burned. He pulled bowls out of a cupboard, spoons from a drawer, and set them all on a sideboard.
“Katerina will hear you out. I’ve found her to be levelheaded and accepting, given she didn’t believe in magic until a verra short while ago.”
Liliana winced. “Aye, and there ’tis. I used to worry her power would manifest and scare the daylights out of her, but years passed, and it never happened. As she grew older, I worried less.” She smiled crookedly and stuffed the hankie back into her pocket. “Despite me eating half a pound of cheese, I’ve cut up enough cured meat and cheese to feed everyone. Ye mentioned bread?”
“Aye.” He pulled a loaf from the freezer and blasted it with magic to thaw it. “Butter and preserves are behind me in the fridge.”
She bustled about, placing items on the sideboard near the soup bowls. The haunted aspect still clung to her, but it wasn’t as pervasive.
“Before we call everyone in here to serve themselves,” she said in English, “I appreciate you listening to me. Other than Mother, I’ve not told anyone what happened with Warren. It’s like this blotch on my soul that I couldn’t save him. I snatched up my baby and drove as fast as I could to Mother once I understood Rhea had corrupted Warren. I’d have teleported, but I was worried it would hurt my newborn. Anyway, by the time Mom and I and a few more witches returned to my house, Warren was dead, and Rhea was gone.”
She rolled her shoulders back. “It’s a relief to be able to say all that out loud.”
“Secrets, the hard ones, are like that, lass. They eat at you, rattle around like malevolent skeletons. ’Tis only once ye toss them out into the hard, cold light of the world that they stop tormenting you.”
A ghost of a smile lit her wan features. “I like you, Sean Weatherford.”
Warmth began in his belly and radiated outward at the compliment. “The feeling is mutual, Liliana Roskelly.”
She grimaced. “Erm, I changed my last name to Curtis.” She exhaled loudly. “One more stupid move on my part. As if separating myself from Roskelly would mean I wasn’t a Black Witch anymore.”
“Ye’re not. Ye’re a witch, sure as ye’re standing here, but not of the dark magic variety.”
“It’s been quite a struggle sometimes.” She narrowed her eyes. “The pull of that amount of power is heady, tough to resist.”
“After a hundred fifty years, I’d say you can quit worrying about being seduced by the dark side.” He was back to English now as well.
Arlen wandered into the kitchen with Katerina right behind him. “How’s supper coming?”
“It’s ready,” Liliana announced. “Help yourselves, and I’ll go make sure everyone knows.”
Sean watched the gentle sway of her hips as she walked out of the kitchen. When he focused on Arlen and Kat, he expected them to be bent over the food, serving themselves. Instead, they were looking at him.
“What exactly were the two of you talking about?” Katerina asked.
Sean shrugged. “This and that. Your mum had a deucedly unpleasant time in Old Glasgow, but she’s moving past it. Just needed someone to listen.”
“What you said is true, but it’s not everything”—Kat tilted her chin upward—“not by a longshot.”
“Goddess preserve me from witches.” Sean chuckled. Liliana’s story was hers to tell, and hers alone. He wouldn’t give her secrets away.
“There you are.” Gloria dashed into the kitchen with Morgan in tow.
“Aye, here we are,” Arlen agreed. “The question is why you were searching for us.”
“We both agree,” Morgan said a bit breathlessly. “What I mean by that is witch lore and Druid lore align on this particular topic.”
“Which is?” Sean prodded. Morgan often got so spun out by ideas, her communication skills faltered.
“The two of you”—Gloria jabbed an index finger at Arlen and Kat—“must marry immediately. None of this waiting for the spring equinox. If we’re to travel backward into the past, the marriage bond will protect you both, make it close to impossible for Rhea and her sisters to manipulate Katerina.”
“So, I’m back on the menu as bait?” Kat grinned, clearly liking the idea.
“I don’t think so.” Arlen placed a protective arm around her, but she shrugged him off.
“We’ll perform the ceremony tonight at sunset,” Morgan announced. “It was the closest time to auspicious I could come up with.”
“I’ll officiate,” Gloria said.
Arlen drew back. “Not that I don’t appreciate your offer, but I would have a Druid. And our traditional wedding ceremony.”
“Not going to happen—” Gloria began.
“Stop. Just stop.” Katerina stalked to her grandmother. “We have a few hours. Work with Morgan and craft a ceremony that blends the best of both worlds.” She looked over a shoulder at Sean. “You can help with that. You’re who came up with our rings.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sean snapped off a salute just before he broke out laughing. Kat was brassy and candid. He’d spoken the truth when he reassured Liliana she’d done a credible job raising her.
“I heard some of that.” Liliana hustled into the kitchen and walked to Katerina’s side. “I don’t mean to darken your wedding day, but you and I are going to have that long overdue chat. There are things you need to know.”
“Sure, Mom. Let’s grab some food and find a quiet corner.”
“Would you like me to be there?” Arlen asked.
“No,” Liliana said firmly.
“It’s all right.” Kat patted Arlen’s arm. “Mom and I really do need some alone time.”
Sean wanted to draw Kat aside, tell her to go easy on her mum, but this wasn’t his circus—or his monkeys. He liked Liliana, respected the hell out of her. Along with that respect came confidence she’d find her way through telling her daughter the truth.
Kat and Liliana walked slowly out of the kitchen, balancing bowls and plates.
Arlen cast a pointed glance his way. “You know something.”
Sean nodded. “Aye, but ye’ll not hear aught from me.” He ladled soup into a bowl and picked up a spoon. “Looks as if we have a wedding to plan. Let’s get to it, eh?”
“You’re a good man.” Gloria inclined her head his way.
“Why thank you, Madam Witch.�
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“Don’t mention it, Druid.”
Morgan buttered a slice of bread and made her way to a round table at the far end of the kitchen. “Here’s as good a place as any to get that wedding nailed down.”
Will and Krista wandered into the kitchen. Tall and lean with blond hair and frosty blue eyes, they looked like faery twins rather than mates. “Liliana mentioned the food was ready,” Will said.
“To hell with food. What wedding?” Krista asked, looking at Morgan.
Sean grinned. Druids had exceptional hearing.
“Kat and I are getting married sooner rather than later,” Arlen said, sounding pleased. “Once you’ve eaten, let everyone know.”
“When?” Krista asked.
“Tonight,” Sean replied.
“Oooh.” Krista rubbed her hands together. “We’ll need a dress, veil, wine…”
Will wove an arm around her waist. “Not your wedding, darling.”
“But we’ll all help with it, right?” Krista aimed her words at Arlen. “’Tisn’t every day our Arch Druid takes a bride. Some of us figured you’d never marry.”
“For now, eat.” Sean added a smidgeon of compulsion to his words. It worked because Will and Krista headed for the food.
Sean took his soup and sat at the table next to Morgan and Gloria. He was tempted to use magic to listen in on Liliana and Kat, smooth things over if need be, but he restrained himself. He didn’t want anything to stand in the way of absolute truth betwixt himself and Liliana, and she’d be both devastated and furious if he intervened.
He knew because he’d feel the same way if someone mucked around in his personal life without his permission.
Sean had never come close to being married, but he’d lived plenty long enough to see a whole lot of couples hit the skids because one or the other was a meddling ass.
“Sean!” Morgan’s voice was sharp.
“Sorry. You have my undivided attention.”
“Finally. All right, as I was saying, we’ll open the ceremony with…”
Chapter 7
Liliana unclasped hands starting to cramp from gripping her fingers together so hard. She and Kat had slipped into one of many side rooms, this one a small parlor with bay windows looking out on a generous pond choked with lily pads.
She’d been talking to Katerina for the better part an hour. Their food lay untouched on a small table off to one side.
“That’s all the important parts,” she said at last. “Thank you for not interrupting.”
Katerina sat across from her on an overstuffed sofa, her blue-green eyes—Rhea’s eyes in shading, but Kat’s held warmth—liquid with pain. “Oh, Mom. I’m so very, very sorry.”
Liliana held her daughter’s direct gaze. “You have every right to be furious with me.”
Kat shrugged. “How can I be angry when you did what you thought was best for me?” She hesitated a beat. “The few times Rhea showed up when I was very young, I used to wonder why she never stayed longer. Once I asked her.”
Liliana grimaced. “Yeah, and what’d she say?”
“That you didn’t like her.”
“True enough. I did my damnedest to keep her away. Mom did too, but sometimes she’d slip through. Do you remember a time when you were nine and she—”
Kat held up a hand. “I do. Arlen coaxed that memory out or unlocked it or something. Rhea tried to turn me to dark magic.”
“She damn near succeeded. If Mom hadn’t been quick on the uptake, we’d have arrived too late. As it was, we barely got there in time. The spell was already simmering.” She inhaled briskly. “After that, we used our first and last bit of dark enchantment to ensure Rhea never saw the light of day again.”
“The asylum?”
Liliana nodded. “Getting her in was easy. Convincing the powers that be to keep her swathed in chains was far more difficult. We couldn’t have accomplished it without borrowing from Black Magic.” A shudder racked her. “I still feel dirty. It was such a relief when she died.”
“Except death is kind of relative for witches.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” She held out her arms. Kat scooted across to the other sofa and burrowed into her embrace, hugging her back. Relief sluiced through Liliana, rich and heady. She stroked Kat’s bright hair and her shoulders.
“I was so afraid I’d ruin your wedding day, but I couldn’t not tell you, either. Sean said something about secrets festering, something I knew and pretty much ignored. I didn’t want anything hidden to taint your marriage.”
Katerina drew back. “I love you, Mom. My anger happened when I was a child. Rhea did something to make me long for her. I never truly got over it—until quite recently.” She shuddered. “It didn’t sink in that she had only one use for me until she dragged me back to the 1700s.”
Liliana knitted her brows together. “That one, she never gave two shits for anyone but herself. And maintaining the Roskelly witch bloodline.”
“Better late than never figuring it out. I can see why you kept quiet before. It’s so convoluted and complicated.”
“Exactly,” Liliana agreed. “Even figuring out where to start became a challenge as the years passed. If I’d told you that you were a witch, you’d have chalked me up as having fallen prey to the mental illness you were certain ran in our family.”
Kat snorted. “Hard to blame me. I needed an explanation, and it was the only one that made sense.”
“To someone who doesn’t believe in magic.”
Kat smiled softly. “That would be most of the modern world.” Liliana started to apologize again, but Kat shook her head. “If I’d known what I was, I’d like as not have never met Arlen. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Sure you’re not angry with me? Not even a little bit?”
Katerina’s face took on a wistful expression. “No. I’m more sad than anything. Losing Dad and feeling guilty and responsible for his death—and his parents’ deaths too—was a huge burden. I’m sorry you had to carry it alone for so long.”
“I wasn’t exactly alone. Mom knew, but we got to a place where neither of us brought it up. Warren’s death was my fault. Nothing I can do will ever change that, but he was a good man, Kat. He’d have loved you to pieces, been a wonderful father. He was so delighted I was pregnant…” Her voice ran down. She’d accomplished what she intended; no reason to wallow in regret.
“No more living in the past today. Not for me, and not for you, either.”
She reached for their neglected food and handed a plate to her daughter. “Eat.”
“Good idea.” Kat layered salami atop cheese and popped both into her mouth, chewing and swallowing.
Liliana spooned cold soup into her mouth. It was delicious, tasting homemade. They concentrated on eating until nothing remained.
“I really do think I should be the bait.” Katerina set her dish aside.
Liliana started to voice a blanket refusal, but something in Kat’s eyes stopped her. “Why?”
Kat folded her hands together in her lap. “Simple. She knows you and Gran hate her. Anything you do to pretend otherwise won’t fly. She’ll see right through it. Her parting shot to me on my last jaunt into the past was she’d see me again.”
While Liliana marshaled arguments, Kat kept on talking. “Arlen and Sean and most of the other Druids are old. It means they can travel to the past but can’t remain long. Something about not having two of them in the same time period or something.”
“I know about that part. It won’t affect me, but it may well impact Mom.”
“Hmmm, so long as you brought it up, how old are the two of you?” Kat leaned forward and angled her head to one side.
“I was born in the latter part of the 1860s, after the Civil War ended. I never knew precisely how old Mother was, but my guess is she’s at least fifty years older than me.”
“How does that work?”
“How does what work?” Liliana asked, not understanding the ques
tion.
“Well, Gran faked her death and went to live in the past. What happens when people notice you’re not aging like they are?”
“It depends. Mostly we fade out of sight and resurface elsewhere, although I admit it has grown far more difficult between DNA and identifiers like social and national security numbering systems. Not much that can’t be smoothed over with magic, though.”
“I assume you were going to get around to telling me about my, erm, unexpected longevity at some point?”
A corner of Liliana’s mouth twisted upward. “I figured I had at least until you passed fifty to worry about it.”
A knock rattled the door, not loud, but insistent. Liliana sent a jot of power outward and ran into Arlen’s unmistakable energy.
“Come on it,” Kat called.
He pushed the door open and walked through. “Everything all right in here?”
“Couldn’t be better.” Kat pushed to her feet and walked into his outstretched arms.
“Hey. It’s bad luck for the bride and groom to see one another right before the ceremony.” Liliana stood and then gathered the few dishes they’d brought into the parlor.
“Who made that rule?” Arlen’s nostrils flared. “Not Druids. I need my blushing bride so we can practice our lines. I know the Druid ceremony, but Gloria added witch elements.”
“Perfect. You worked things out.” Kat beamed at him. “Since I’m not familiar with any ceremony beyond ‘dearly beloved,’ we need to get cracking. I’d hate to muff my lines.”
“My little perfectionist.” He kissed her forehead.
“I’ll take these things back to the kitchen,” Liliana said, wanting to escape before the desire swirling thickly around her daughter and Arlen ignited into something more than forehead kisses. “Is there a wardrobe where I can rummage for something to wear later?”
“Sure is,” Arlen replied. “Once you leave the kitchen, take the first set of stairs up to the third floor. Sean has quite a collection of clothing from various eras. Many of his mum’s garments and ones from a sister as well.”