Poison and Potions: a Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by Erin Hayes

  Roman had learned from what Paris and Cassandra said, though, and perhaps more importantly, from what they hadn’t. Cass was obviously the one in charge. Her demeanor and the way she chastised Paris like a tepid schoolboy said as much.

  But her family wasn’t involved. She was clearly planning to take over, and who knows who she might exterminate in the process.

  She would’ve been helpless on her own, though. If Roman had to guess, she must have reached out to the Louisiana coven herself. Bringing them in would give her firepower, and having Paris in her pocket would give her the leverage she needed to make sure things went her way. She was saving her magic as a last resort because for a weak witch like herself, there was no way she would have enough pull with her family otherwise.

  A new coven in town—especially one with ties to the Fairweathers—would also set Roman’s family on edge. It was a perfect plan. Roman just needed to make sure it didn’t succeed.

  The runes protecting the Fairweather manor were strong. They had been for centuries. But he knew more than he had ever shared about this plot of land. Sneaking in and out of it to visit his former girlfriend afforded Roman an insider’s perspective on the security of this place.

  There was a time when Julia had even given him a mystical key of sorts. It was a long time ago, but Roman was willing to bet that when the doors are this old, people are loathed to change the locks.

  He got in easily, ushering his crew alongside him.

  Father was so pleased that he didn’t even ask how Roman had found his way past the mystical sensors. One by one, the Blackwood coven filtered in, bringing hell along with them.

  Father naturally assumed this would be payback for what happened to Adam and, in part, he was right. But what Roman was holding back from telling him, what he would never be able to tell him, was that this was also about Julia.

  Roman caught sight of her just before hell broke loose.

  She wore a white dress that made her look like a perfectly sung song. Her hair was swept up, leaving her neck bare and framing her face. She was not only the most beautiful bride he had ever seen, she was the most beautiful thing bar none.

  Fire exploded through the grounds. It was a warning shot, the only that the Fairweather/Wheeler party would get.

  Then the earth shook.

  The action was as fast and furious as one might expect from three covens going to war in the space of an acre.

  Magic flew like insults, deadly and deliberate.

  What they didn’t expect, and what Roman thought was a nice little touch, was the fire shower.

  It was an old spell, strong magic that had been lost to all but the most ardent users of dark magic. Luckily for him, Father had pressed him into just those corners, and as the flaming rain fell, targeting the Blackwood’s foes, Roman couldn’t help but feel more than a little accomplished.

  He had been made to feel so low for practicing the darker arts. They were dangerous. They were consuming. In many parts of the world, they were banned. But here and now, with his plan blossoming in its full glory, he realized that dark didn’t have to mean bad.

  This magic, however taboo, however frowned upon, was going to help him save the woman he loved. It was going to expose the liars in these covens and light a fire that would cleanse them all of the stench of mistruths.

  Perhaps it would even bring about enough commonality and understanding to end this feud once and for all. And wouldn’t that be a hell of a story to tell his grandchildren.

  Of course, for that to happen, things were going to have to get a lot less combustible.

  Julia stumbled back into his line of sight as a bolt of fire careened toward her.

  That wasn’t right, of course. It wasn’t supposed to target her. It was only meant for his enemies—for the people who would do the Blackwoods harm. But Julia did have Fairweather blood, and maybe that was enough to classify her as the opposition.

  In any event, Roman was having none of it.

  Gathering himself, he used his personal energy to redirect the fireball. It shifted away from her, landing someplace inconsequential.

  He stared at her for a long moment after that, trying to read her face. But Julia’s features were a mask. Foolishly, Roman thought she would be happy to see him—Dustin Hoffman at the end of The Graduate beating against glass and ready to whisk Mrs. Robinson’s daughter away from a union that obviously wasn’t a fit for her.

  Instead, what he saw on her face was shock, sadness, and then resolve.

  But of course, she didn’t know the truth yet. She likely saw this as another ill-advised show of force. Once she found out that her would-be groom was conspiring with her cousin to put her head on a metaphorical spike, she would think differently.

  This would blow the lid off everything. It would change it all. Cassandra would undoubtedly be disinherited after this, possibly even exiled. There would be no other way. And that would leave the seat of power to Julia.

  Sure, she had told Roman on more than one occasion she didn’t want that, but she would grow into her destiny. She would learn to love her crown and, with it, the power to make rules for the coven she oversaw.

  With her at the helm, things would be different. And once Father seceded his position to Roman, they would both be in charge. They would put an end to this foolish nonsense once and for all. And maybe, someday down the road, they might even be together.

  And that would be an even better story for the grandkids.

  “Run!” he told her, trying to scream over the chaos.

  But she didn’t. She held her ground.

  What was she doing? This was dangerous, perhaps as dangerous as things had been since all of this started. She needed to get away, to get herself to safety. After all, without her, what did any of this matter? She was the only thing that made sense anymore, the only thing that—

  A crackle of electricity whizzed by Roman, singing his ear and drawing blood.

  One of the warlocks from the Louisiana coven—a gangly tall man with a wispy mustache and a stupid expression on his face—ran toward him. He was definitely an idiot by the look of him, but even a stupid man could kill you if he landed a good enough hit.

  Roman reared back, once again gathering energy. He had a stone in his pocket—a piece of onyx with enough mineral energy to keep him going for at least another hour of good battle.

  Twisting the energy around him, he thickened the air around the man, stopping him in his tracks. He then redirected it, sending the man flying out of his way.

  He rushed toward Julia, who was still just standing there.

  What on earth was she doing?

  Another man, one he didn’t recognize, came at him with plant magic, threatening to wrap him up in a thorn vine.

  Pressing the onyx against his palm, he sent a wave into the plant that made it wither on the vine. Kicking the man hard in the gut, he sent him stumbling backward.

  Turning back to Julia, he saw something shimmering in her hands. It was small and dark. A bottle.

  The breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t just any bottle. It was the bottle. The one he had given her before everything had changed, before he knew the truth of what was going on. At the time, he’d thought it would save her life. Now, though, he feared it would do the opposite.

  Paris and Cassandra wanted her dead. Incapacitating her, making her look and seem dead, might be enough to do the trick of convincing them to back off. But it also might leave her defenseless at the most dangerous time imaginable.

  There were other plays here, things that made more sense. Roman needed to get to her before she could take the damn potion, before it was too late.

  Another man rushed him.

  Would this garbage never stop?

  Without even employing his magic, Roman took him out, sending an elbow into his face and knocking out at least two of the warlock’s teeth.

  He darted faster toward Julia, but it was too late.

  She had already drank it. The bott
le was falling empty to the ground at her feet. Her eyes were closing, and she was toppling over sideways.

  “No!” He kept running at her as she crumpled onto herself, the folds of her dress bunching up around her.

  His heart dropped, but his mind scrambled for some sort of plan.

  This would be okay. He would get to her, scoop her up, and take her somewhere until this whole thing died down. He would find a way to bring her out of this.

  He would murder both Paris and Casandra with his bare hands if that’s what it took to keep Julia safe. He would never stop fighting, never stop trying, never stop loving her.

  He would do everything in his power to make this right, and he—

  A force, blunt and debilitating, hit hard against the back of his head.

  Roman cursed under his breath. He tried to fight it, but he knew better. For all his fervor, for all his plans, he knew that this blow would take him down.

  He fell to his knees, trying to crawl toward her. If he could just get to her then maybe he could keep her safe.

  Another blow struck the back of his head.

  He couldn’t crawl anymore. Instead, he reached into his pocket, rubbing the onyx stone.

  “Take me to her,” he mumbled.

  A third blow struck him. Blood and metal flooded his mouth, and his vision went dark.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The pain in her heart was gone. The hurt that had colored everything about her since the instant she had been pulled away from Roman had finally been lifted. The world was all right. She was all right.

  And she was gone.

  “Where are we?” asked a voice from behind her.

  She didn’t need to turn around to recognize it. She knew it in her soul.

  Turning, she saw Roman. He was dressed plainly in a navy blue tee, a pair of jeans, and a baseball cap.

  He looked a bit ridiculous, actually, but maybe that was the point. Roman hadn’t dressed like that since they were kids, since the days when they first got together. And here he was, as old as he was today and looking every bit like the guy she’d fallen for all those years ago.

  “We’re in Iowa,” she said, looking around. “It’s the farm I moved to after I left Savannah.”

  A wide smile birthed across her face as she looked around. There was the old barn her grandmother had helped her own father build nearly a hundred years ago. There was the farmhouse-two stories of good, honest wood covered in white paint and blue trimmings. And there was the corn, shooting up toward Heaven in near endless rows as far as the eye could see.

  It had been so simple here, so damn easy. She remembered how it felt when she came here after nearly losing her mind. She found herself again on this land, discovering pieces of her that she never knew existed.

  Though it wasn’t home, though it would never be home, she loved this place.

  And apparently part of her wished she had stayed.

  “I hope you’re okay,” she said, looking at what she assumed was the walking talking personification of Roman.

  Her mind had built him, no doubt. Placing him here in these surroundings, the one piece of the puzzle that real life had been missing.

  “I’m better now,” he answered, moving toward her. “But I’m not sure how long that will last.”

  “No,” she said, smiling wide. “I meant the real you, the actual person still in the land of the living.”

  He looked down at the ground and then back up at her. Even here, in this dream world, the sight of him took her breath away.

  “This is me, Julia,” he said, shaking his head. “This is the real me. I watched you take the potion. I tried to stop you, but I was too late. So I pulled the magic off an onyx stone. I thought it would give me the strength to get to you, to your body. Instead, I guess it brought me here.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes widening. “My God, it’s actually you.” She collided with him, hugging him and digging her face into his chest. “Thank God.”

  “Listen to me, Julia,” Roman said, pulling her away from him. “You-you need to get up.”

  “What?” She bit her lip and shook her head. “No. No, I don’t. This was the plan. Faking my death will put an end to this killing. It’s what’s needed. It’s what’s necessary.”

  “Not anymore,” Roman said, rubbing his hands down her arms and resting them just above her elbows.

  “What are you talking about?” Julia asked. Shadows from above drew her gaze, and she saw the clear sky was now beginning to cloud up. “This was your idea, Roman. Remember? You’re the one who gave me the potion.”

  “Because I thought it would keep you safe.” He blinked hard. “I thought this would take you out of the game. I figured this potion would keep you in stasis until I could get to you. But that was before I knew the truth.”

  “The truth?” Julia asked, backing away from him. “What is the truth, Roman?”

  He stared deeply into her eyes. “Do you trust me, Julia?”

  “Why do you ask?” Her lips pursed. “What’s going on, Roman?”

  “Because you’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you.” He advanced on her again. “Because it’s awful and insane and it’s going to change everything you think you know about your family. And I need to know that you trust me when I tell it to you.”

  A sense of dread washed over her, and she didn’t know if it was because she dreaded what he might reveal or whether she feared it wouldn’t be true—that the man she loved might be lying to her. But no sooner did she have that thought that she knew the answer. Whatever he was about to say was big, and it was the truth.

  “Go on, then,” she said, her voice cracking at the end. “Just say it.”

  “Julia…”

  “I trust you,” she said. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I wouldn’t have taken that potion in the first place?” She let him advance on her, this time taking his hands in her own. “I trust you with my life. Now tell me what’s going on.”

  “They’re trying to kill you,” Roman said flatly.

  Julia looked him up and down, her heart racing.

  “What?” she asked. “Who?”

  “Paris and Cassandra,” he said. “They’re working together. I heard them talking at a coffeehouse. They said—”

  “No.” Julia moved a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “Oh, Roman. No. You must be mistaken. There’s…there’s no way—”

  “I know it’s hard for you to hear this,” Roman said. “But I was there. Paris said—”

  “Forget Paris,” Julia shouted. Thunder cracked overhead. “I barely even know him. Who knows what that son of a bitch is up to? But Cass is family.”

  “Julia…” Roman started.

  “She knew,” Julia snapped. “She knew about us the entire time we were together, and she didn’t say a word. Now, if she wanted me dead, then why wouldn’t she use that to get to me? Why let that slide?”

  “I don’t know,” Roman said, spreading his hands. “She’s…a lot more calculated than that. She wants power. She wants to be ruler of the Moon Coven.”

  “She’s already going to be,” Julia screamed. “Grandfather gave it to her!”

  “Did he?” Roman asked, staring into her soul. “Or did you?”

  She pressed her lips together and looked away. He was wrong. Cass didn’t have anything to do with whatever he thought was going on.

  He took a deep breath and continued. “Listen baby, I know what I heard. She said that your grandfather wanted to give the power to you, that the ancestors speak to you and you alone.”

  “I can’t even understand what they’re saying,” Julia said, as though that would explain things. She shook her head, surprised to find tears streaming down her face.

  “She said she’d never be secure as head so long as you were around. She tasked Paris with killing you. But she said it couldn’t happen until after the wedding. She was really adamant about that part. I don’t know why.”
>
  “We’re communal covens,” Julia said, choking back tears. “Our powers are naturally combined after a top tier union. It would—it would have given them both twice the power they came into things with. It also means that Paris would be able to hear the ancestors, too.”

  “Those sons of bitches,” Roman said through gritted teeth. He moved closer to her and grabbed her arms. “This is why I need you to get up, baby. They’ll kill you.”

  “They already think I’m dead,” she said.

  “They won’t take the chance. They’ll want to be sure about it.”

  “They want the power,” she answered. “Paris and I never got through the ceremony.”

  “They won’t care about that anymore,” Roman said, and she knew he was right. “They won’t miss this opportunity. Trust me, Julia. If you don’t get up, those two are going to make sure you never can.”

  Julia was unable to keep the tears in check anymore. She sobbed uncontrollably, shaking as she melted into Roman’s arms.

  “I’m sorry this is happening,” he whispered against her hair. “Being betrayed is hard.”

  “I was finally here.” She hiccupped through her tears. “I thought it was finally over, Roman. I’m so tired. And I was finally here, where I wanted to be. And you were here, too.” She sniffled. “I just wanted to rest. I wanted to stay here with you and forget about the rest of it.”

  “You’d never truly get any rest here,” Roman said, brushing hair out of her eyes. “You never really did before, did you? That’s why you came back. Too much left undone, and now, too much at stake. You’re not that girl. I know you, Julia Fairweather. You’re the strongest girl in the world.”

  “My track record would disagree.”

  “Uh-uh,” he said, caressing the side of her arm. “I shouldn’t have let you go. That’s as much my fault. But I’m stronger now, too, and I am never, ever letting go of you again.” He looked down at Julia and squeezed her arms again. “We’re never losing each other again. Fuck the feud. Fuck the families. I’ve got you, and you’ve got me. Nothing else matters. So wake up baby. Wake up and kick some ass.”