Aaron lifted his head and glanced at me. I gave him a look we'd developed between us. It meant "You owe me big time." He fought off a smile so my dad wouldn't see.
Unfortunately, Father wasn't buying it. "You expect me to believe that you came to blows over a difference of opinion regarding the civility of vampires?" I nodded.
"Aaron?"
"Yes, Uncle."
Father could have pressed us and we would have had to tell him, but instead he said, "You have a choice. You both tell me the rest of what happened, shake hands and go back to your regular chores, or you both stay silent, shake hands and face your punishment."
"What's the punishment?" Aaron asked.
"Three swipes of the strap and then you'll both help with the laundry. That blood won't be easy to get out. When you've finished, you will continue with your regular chores. There will be no dinner until everything is done."
I sat up straighter. "We'll take the punishment."
"Yes. The punishment, uncle."
It certainly wasn't the harshest punishment my father had doled out. Our behinds were sore enough to make us squirm a little at the dinner table, but not keep us from eating. The worst part was doing the laundry while my sister and mother looked on, both of them sipping tea and laughing at us. Aaron splashed Marie with some of the suds, but she didn't seem to mind. He treated her like she was his little sister too. Aaron being an only child, he was happiest when he was around our family.
Later, while we were washing up for dinner, we whispered together.
"Thanks. I suppose you'll be telling me what it is you want?" Aaron asked.
"You'll take me with you next time. My cheetah can protect you if you run into other vampires." After all, he was only a human.
He laughed, then covered his mouth when he saw Marie watching us like a hawk. "Fine."
When I slid under the covers that night, Dad came to talk to me. I asked, "Why didn't you make us tell?"
"You've seen Aaron's back?" I nodded. He was beaten on a regular basis. My father's three swipes of the strap against our most padded area were mostly to make a point, not to leave a mark. Not to say they didn't hurt. "His father is an unyielding man. I'm afraid we can't do much about that, except to have Aaron over as often as he's allowed to come. I'd like you to spend more time with him. You're a good influence." My eyes widened at the compliment. "Oui, mon fils. Je suis fier de toi." He ruffled my hair and left me glowing. He was proud of me. I wondered if Aaron's dad ever told him that.
My whipping for today ended and the chains disappeared along with my torturer. Elle was brought back in so I could feed. I refused, because she wasn't well and my taking her blood weakened her more. She was very gentle as she cleaned my wounds, and because of Aymis' earlier generosity, my natural healing kicked in enough to stop the bleeding and seal up the worst of the slashes.
As Elle slept, I spent more time remembering my father, whose steady presence and stark integrity had influenced my life more than any other male. When my thoughts turned to Charlie, I smiled. He'd been lucky enough to have a dad who didn't believe in the benefits of a sore behind, even though there'd been times I was tempted. Several, in fact. Parenthood wasn't easy, but the unexpected arrival of a son sixteen years ago, had encouraged me to channel my much-wiser father whenever possible.
When I felt I could manage to rest, I closed my eyes and conjured up my beloved mate and son, sending out mental messages of love they'd never receive. Please let them be safe.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Simon brought the potion in a container about the size of a standard water bottle. Elizabeth, our witchy friend, was with him, smiling and bubbling with enthusiasm. She was one of the sweetest people I'd ever met, plus she was an expert in her craft.
Simon looked worried. "Please sit, honey." Shocked that he'd used a term of endearment, I continued to stand, not able to say anything at first. He took that the wrong way. "I apologize. I have no right to..."
His embarrassment was obvious, but there was also sadness. "Shush. You're my dad. We don't know each other all that well, but I kind of liked the sound of honey. I guess I need...with Garrett gone..."
He lifted his arms and I walked into his embrace, at the same time catching Elizabeth's wide approving grin over his shoulder. His almond scent surrounded me the way his strong arms did, both of them comforting and necessary. He rubbed my back and kissed the top of my head. "You don't have much time, honey."
I managed to giggle. "Don't overdo it." I pulled away with a grin of my own. "Tell me what I need to do."
I sat and he explained, "This magic is untried, but Liz and I both believe it's safe and going to work as designed."
Hmmm. Liz, huh? As far as I knew, she preferred to be called Elizabeth. I gave her a sly glance, and she winked at me when Simon was turned away. They'd spent the night together, supposedly working on the potion. As far as I knew, neither of them was in a committed relationship. Although the two races usually disagreed on the fundamentals of magic, on rare occasions sorcerers and witches ended up working as partners. That way all the bases were covered.
"Jackie." Simon held up the bottle, wrinkling his brow. "You need to listen carefully. The potion must be taken on an empty stomach and sipped at one minute intervals. You can eat an hour after the last drop is consumed, and you should eat well. You'll need to be in top form tonight."
Elizabeth continued. "This brew will strengthen your emerald aura, which will in turn strengthen your powers as a healer. You should be able to build your shields more strongly than you ever have before."
Garrett had been the one to teach me how to build my protective diamond wall in the first place, then Isaiah had taught me how to use demon magic to strengthen my shields on many levels. No one knew better than me how important defensive magic was in the grand arena of magical politics.
"Thank you both for all your hard work last night. I appreciate it more than I can say."
Simon smiled and held out the flask. "Sip it slowly. We'll stay until you've absorbed the full spell."
I flashed on the memory of Isaiah requiring me to drink his special potion and how sick I'd gotten when I drank it down. I really couldn't afford to spend the next hour worshipping the porcelain god. We were leaving for court in three hours.
"If I feel sick, I'm going to stop. I can't mess up the schedule."
"Let's see how it goes." Simon nodded toward the flask.
I sipped and waited then sipped again. This went on for a full ten minutes before I began to feel anything at all. There was no nausea, only a pleasant warmth and a tingling on my skin as if I was near some huge power source. I checked my own aura and found it to be brighter, then I tested the effects by building my usual protections. Even though I wouldn't know for sure if they were stronger until someone tried to breach them, I sensed a more permanent foundation coupled with a sharper core.
"There is an added benefit that might surprise you." Simon smiled.
"Oh?"
"We'll give it a test, but first we need to go outside." Curious, I followed the two of them out. Samson tagged along. Simon looked behind him, then said, "I'll try to attack you mentally."
The moment I felt his mental fingers brush across my shields, my magic reacted, sending him flying across the lawn and landing on his ass ten feet away.
Elizabeth laughed out loud. "Well it works!" she said.
He rubbed his behind as he stood. "If you're attacked mentally it will respond."
"Are you okay?" I asked, shocked by my violent response.
"Yes, fine, although I'll have a bruise."
Elizabeth laughed again, the rich sound filling the yard. "It could be worse. You could have cracked your skull open."
"But I don't have any control."
"Now that you know what to expect, you can tone it down." She whispered to me, "He insisted. Sorcerers are such show-offs."
"You witches would benefit from taking more chances. How will you grow in skill?" He winced
and rubbed his right hip.
"Come home with me. I have a special poultice that works well on bruises." Simon smiled warmly at his new friend, and I figured that Liz had more than a poultice in mind for Simon. They hugged me and wished me luck, then left along the side path which led to the driveway where they'd parked. Their playful banter continued on until they reached Simon's car.
As Simon and Elizabeth drove off, Aedus and Lord Caelen arrived at the house. I still had two and a half hours before we were to depart, so their unexpected arrival worried me.
Caelen's expression was grim. "Brina has offered to glamour herself to look like your son. I believe that it may be our best hope to get your mate back."
"That's too dangerous."
"She's insisting and I'm allowing it."
"Have you heard if the queen's letting him feed?"
"We don't know."
I dug my nails into my thighs. "Is Fionna doing the torturing?"
"Kennet." Oh god. That was worse. So much worse. Kennet would kill him.
As if reading my mind, Aedus answered. "She will not have him killed. We will get him back tonight."
My heart ached for him. I missed his laugh, his scent, his hands around my waist, his breath against my hair as we spooned in bed. I missed the way he looked at our son with such pride and the grin that spread across his face when we saw each other for the first time each afternoon. I desperately needed his strength, but understood that tonight he'd be relying on mine.
Noticing my distress, Aedus took my hand in his. "We disposed of the—the package, so that Garrett will not be at risk." Farrell had told me they were going to build a fire, cast a purifying spell and then burn the contents so that no one with a knowledge of blood magic could use it against him.
"Thank you. I'm grateful to all of you for your help." They repeated that they'd be back at six, recommending that I eat something and rest until then.
It had taken every bit of my strength not to fall apart in front of them, but the moment they left, I crumpled onto the rug in front of the fireplace and cried. My sobs echoed through the horribly empty house as I rolled my body into a ball, terrified that I'd have to spend the rest of my life with this soul-numbing emptiness.
Samson was suddenly beside me, nuzzling my face and whimpering at my distress. I hugged him until I was cried out, then retrieved a box of tissues from a nearby table to clean myself up. After blowing my nose and wiping my face, I leaned against the couch, looking up at the picture of Garrett and his family that hung above the mantle. He'd been Charlie's age when they'd posed for the painter, a young shifter trying his best to look mature, yet still innocent and unaware of the difficult future ahead.
I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to hold in my worry and frustration. Garrett had already suffered through so much: the murder of his family, his own torture and the torture of his friends by his maker, Eleanor. And then there was my kidnapping. Perhaps the worst of it all was struggling through day after day of Charlie's illness, although at least we'd had each other to lean on. I wouldn't have made it through those early years if Garrett hadn't been there to hold me and kiss away my tears and reassure me with his steady strength.
I ached for him to be here holding me now.
Shaking myself back into real time, I turned my thoughts toward our son. Charlie was now sixteen and glowing with health, growing in power on a daily basis. I realized suddenly how much I also missed his presence in the house, even though most of the time these days he and I were arguing. Garrett had a way with him that broke through Charlie's stubborn determination and got him to listen to reason. After a father-son talk he'd usually come and apologize. Sometimes I'd apologize too. Parents weren't perfect either.
Charlie had such a serious nature, at least with me. When he allowed himself to loosen up, his laughter was addictive, his joy lighting up his young face. I'd seen many a young girl's head turn when he smiled at them as he walked past.
Forcing myself to stand, I washed my face in the bathroom and stared at my reflection, making a solemn pledge to stay strong this evening. You fell apart for the last time. Now get a grip. Garrett will need your strength and so will Charlie.
Samson, who'd curled up by my feet as I'd washed up, wagged his tail, barking the bark he used when greeting someone he knew. At the same time, I caught a scent in the air that calmed me like the scent and the sound of the sea often did, filling me with hope.
I smiled. Garrett was alive. He'd be home with me tonight, then Charlie could come home too. We'd be a family again by tomorrow morning.
I fed Samson, then drank a glass of water to ease my scratchy throat. Hearing my stomach growl, I glanced at the refrigerator. A few minutes ago I couldn't have eaten a lone grape, but now I was starving. I made a roast beef sandwich and even added a side salad, surprising myself by eating every bite.
As per Aedus' instructions, I dressed in a tunic made of a rich chocolate colored fabric and tan leggings, something a female fae warrior might wear to meet the queen. It was comfortable to fight in, but still looked respectable, decorated with a dressier emerald trim on the sleeves and hem. After strapping on my arcane blade and pulling on soft leather boots, I brushed my hair, braiding the long strands into one plait to keep it out of my face.
I dismissed the idea of a nap and instead sat outside to watch Sash and Rick shoot hoops, the two of them sticking close to the house in case I needed them. Seeing me there, Rick gave me a wave and a smile while Sasha blew me a kiss. I returned their greeting with air kisses, smiling to show them I was confident about the results of tonight's adventure. Despite their attempt at good humor, I knew that they were hurting too, their emptiness different than mine, but still hard to bear.
They finished their game and then bookended me on the porch steps, surrounding me with their enormous bodies and their solid friendship. We talked about old times, their latest security jobs and all kinds of irrelevant nonsense meant to take my mind off of Garrett's situation. It helped.
By the time my squadron of fae arrived, attired for battle and eager to go, I was ready to deal with Fionna.
CHAPTER FORTY
He was watching me like a hawk, eating very little while I piled more meat on my plate. I got the feeling that he was nervous. Well, join the club.
"It's gonna work," I said in an attempt to reassure him, but also myself. We'd struggled with the lesson for the first hour, then things had fallen into place. This gift was rare and dangerous, for me and others.
"I believe you." Isaiah was fooling around with his spoon, making it bend and straighten, then spin around on the table.
"Why aren't you eating?" I asked
"Perhaps because you're putting yourself in extreme danger, and I'm going to have to face your mother and father's anger."
"That's not it." I laughed. "You don't care if they get mad at you."
"Maybe I'm worried for you."
That was closer to the truth. "I'm outta there as soon as there's trouble."
He snorted and shook his head. "Trouble calls to you, son. That demon blood is going to get you into all kinds of scrapes. Take it from someone who knows." He pointed the bent spoon at me and jabbed it in my direction."Keep in mind that with your healer gift, you can probably schmooze your way out of just about anything. You've seen how your mother wraps us around her finger like obedient puppy dogs."
"Yeah, but Mom's...well...guys like to help pretty females."
That produced a loud belly laugh. "Look in the mirror, kid. You're very pretty. I bet the fae females are throwing themselves at you already."
"I'm not pretty!" I tossed a plum at his head, but he caught it and tossed it back. My face had gotten hot. Why did I have to blush like a freakin' girl?
"Handsome or pretty or hot, it's all the same." He narrowed his eyes in thought. "Which fae female? Wait, let me guess. It's Linn, right?" I didn't answer. "The elders are probably hoping you'll fall for each other." I frowned, then too late, tried to hide it. "Ah.
The little princess does not call to your heart?"
"She's perfect, but..."
"I understand. It's the demon blood, you know. It goes against the grain to do what's expected of us. We strive for chaos, or at least a touch of confusion and disarray. It makes life intriguing. I'm seldom bored, which is the bane of an immortal's existence."
"I think you're the bane of Lord Caelen's existence."
"Then he isn't bored either." We laughed out loud, short-circuiting some of the nerves that had built up as my departure time drew close.
I shrugged. "Anyway, I'm not full blood fae. The elders can't want me for Linn. Aedus definitely doesn't." Lately, every time Aedus looked in my direction, he frowned.
"Did your mom ever mention what Bridget told her before she died?"
"Yeah. Do you think it's possible for them to...to block my demon magic to make me mostly fae?"
"Naberia told Bridget that it was what Caelen had planned for you. I've found no proof, even though I've been searching for an answer on and off ever since your mom went all ballistic on me. I'd love to find proof of Caelen's treachery, but alas..."
"Mom was pissed off?"
"You might say that. Bridgett had told her I knew all about this plot to steal part of your magic." He shook his head with an exasperated expression. "That girl continues to cause trouble, even ten years after her death." He downed the rest of his wine in one gulp. "During my exhaustive searching I found some sketchy evidence that one hundred and fifty years ago a male fae's magic was blocked permanently by a group of sorcerers working for an unseelie. The sorcerers were sure that this particular fae had demon blood as well as fae blood and so would survive. They were wrong and the fae died."
"Oops."
"Yeah. Mother has quite the magical reference library, but until I can get my hands on those tomes, I'm afraid there's nothing else I can tell you. What's ironic is that Adele searched for years to have her demon blood blocked. If there was actually a way to do it, she might still be alive." Isaiah had a sadness about him when he talked about my mom's mom. It almost made him seem like just another male, missing his lost love. Almost.
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