‘You’re more like her in some ways than you think. But you must stop thinking of them as weaknesses if you are to move forward. And you must stop focusing on the past.’
‘I’m not,’ she croaked. She didn’t want to look back. She’d told herself long ago it didn’t serve any purpose. She didn’t even particularly like looking forward. That’s why she put everything she was into living the now.
But for once, her grandma seemed oblivious to how she was feeling. ‘You are. You do it every day when you try with everything in you not to be your mother and focus all your energies on being me.’
Bron sucked in a breath. ‘That’s not what I’ve done.’
Adeline looked around, a sad smile on her face. ‘Yes, you have. And the pity of it is, you have more power and talent than I ever did, even before you took on this new power, and yet you limit yourself to only doing the magic I did. I left you the family grimoires for a reason, mo daor. They were to teach you of possibilities. But you didn’t learn from them in that way and it makes me sad to see it.’
Bron began to shake. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. She looked up to argue further and saw that Adeline-Shelley was leaning against the table, her face ashen, the black in her eyes swirling wildly.
‘Grandma?’
Adeline turned her head groggily, as if she’d lost control of her movement, and smiled weakly. ‘I’m afraid my time with you has come to an end.’ She reached out and Bron stood, grasping her hand. ‘But please, think on what I’ve said to you today, mo daor. Be yourself. Do the work. Become something far grander than I ever was. Promise me.’
‘I promise.’
‘That’s all I ask.’
She shook violently, teeth rattling in her head, and then she slumped. Bron caught her and tried to lead her to a chair, but Shelley was so much taller and bigger than she was and Adeline had used up too much of her energy. Her head lolled, her limbs floppy and weak. ‘Help! Somebody help,’ Bron called out, knowing that Iain and Adam had to be nearby.
Shelley started to make a rattling sound in her throat and then Adam, Iain hot on his heels, was through the door. As they stomped past Bluebelle she hissed and shot under the shelves.
‘What happened?’ Adam said, ignoring the cat and scooping Shelley into his arms. Somehow, he made Shelley look like a doll cradled there.
‘Grandma took her over so we could have a chat.’
‘Shit. Why’d you let her do that?’
Bron gaped at him. ‘I didn’t let her. She sauntered in like that.’
‘You should have told her to get the fuck out!’
Bron crossed her arms over her chest, sick of people telling her what she should do. ‘Don’t shout at me.’
‘Hey, guys. Whoa.’ Iain stood between them, hands out. ‘Nobody is at fault here. Bron can’t control the spirits—that’s Shelley’s thing—and if she couldn’t keep Bron’s grandma out, then it’s not likely Bron could.’ He turned his back on Bron and looked at Adam. ‘How about we give Cordy a call. She’ll know what to do.’
Adam didn’t answer, just lay Shelley down on the clean workbench, took his phone out of his back pocket and flicked it open. ‘Face time, Cordy,’ he snapped into the phone. A moment later, Cordy’s smiling face appeared. ‘Who is that?’ a voice grumbled behind her.
‘It’s Adam,’ she said, laughing. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’
Another face appeared beside hers; a harshly masculine face darkened by a five-o’clock shadow and a deep scowl that didn’t hide the shocking blue of his eyes. ‘You’re interrupting a moment, Trickster. Call back later.’ He reached for the phone, but Cordy slapped his hand aside.
‘Marcus, you’re being rude,’ Cordy said, flipping her straight red hair over her shoulder. ‘Now go and make me a cup of tea while I talk to Adam. I’m sure he called for something important?’
‘Shelley was taken over by Bron’s grandma’s spirit and now she’s passed out.’
Marcus glared at the phone before sighing and giving Cordy a rough kiss. Pointing at the phone, he barked, ‘Don’t keep her long,’ then stomped away.
Adam winced. ‘Sorry, Cordy. I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t urgent.’
‘I know,’ she said, her warm smile shining from the small screen. ‘I’ll make sure he gets over his grump later. Now, tell me what happened.’
Adam waved Bron forward and she explained, with Adam throwing in the few bits he knew. At the end, Cordy paused. ‘The spirits around Shelley are much stronger than she has let on.’
Bron winced. She’d thought Shelley was doing so well. She should have known otherwise. Some great healer she was!
‘My great-grandmother was an extremely strong medium,’ Cordy continued. ‘There might be something in her diaries to help Shelley control her power more effectively. I’ll search it out and send it down. If I can talk Marcus into it, I’ll come down with it.’
Adam sighed. ‘That would be great, Cordy. But what do we do right now? She’s passed out cold.’
‘It takes a lot out of a medium to be possessed like that, but it’s nothing that some rest won’t fix. Just take her home and let her sleep. And when she wakes up, a good bowl of that hearty bolognaise you make, Adam, would be the ticket to get her up and going. And some of that heavenly chocolate cake you made for me after Samhain wouldn’t go astray, either.’
‘I’ll make two and bring it up to you especially. Thanks Cordy.’
‘My pleasure. Call me if there’s any more problems.’
‘I will.’ He flipped the phone closed and shoved it back in his pocket before turning to Bron. ‘Sorry I snapped at you. It’s just …’ He waved at Shelley. ‘I’m her Shadow.’
Bron touched his arm. ‘I know.’ She knew how Adam felt about responsibility.
‘Are you coming?’
She shook her head. She was still upset about what Adeline had said to her and didn’t feel like being around anyone. But she couldn’t tell them that. Waving her hand at the tidy space she said, ‘I’ve got things to do here. Cleaning and tidying.’
Adam’s brow rose. ‘Yeah. I think I see a speck of dust in the corner that needs to be taken care of. What are you doing here, Bron?’
‘Just trying to figure some stuff out. Which I can do better if left alone.’
Adam held up his hand. ‘Okay, don’t bite my head off. I was just asking. But if you need me, you know where I’ll be.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said as he bent to pick Shelley up. ‘Besides, Iain will be right outside. Just take Shelley home and look after her, okay. That’s the best thing you can do for me.’
‘You heard the lady,’ Adam said to Iain. ‘We’re not wanted in here right now.’
Bron’s chest clenched at his words. She wished she trusted herself like he trusted her. ‘Thank you.’
He looked pointedly at her. ‘No heroics though.’
Iain touched her shoulder. ‘I’m here if you need me.’
Bron nodded, swallowing down the sudden tears.
As soon as the door closed behind them, she began to shake, her discussion with her grandma hitting her in full. It wasn’t true. She hadn’t turned from being a carbon copy of her parents into a carbon copy of her grandma. She wouldn’t do that. She was her own person. Wasn’t she?
Every single last bit of energy left her as realisation hit with the speed of a freight train. She staggered. Goddess! Her grandma had forced herself into Shelley’s body—Adeline hadn’t done that just on a whim. Hell! She’d thought she’d done the right thing; the respectful thing. Had thought she’d been following her own dreams. But now, everything just felt wrong.
Her head pounded with the wrongness, her chest felt tight. Grabbing hold of the back of the chair, she tried to take some deep, calming breaths, but they just hitched in her throat. Nausea swirled. She pulled the chair around with rubbery arms and plonked down in it. But that little amount of exertion made her pant, the breath squeezing through lungs like they were fill
ed with fluid. She rubbed at her chest, trying to relieve the pressure but it didn’t help.
A panic attack?
She hadn’t had one of those since just before her grandma died eight years earlier. But this certainly felt like a panic attack. Sweat pricked her skin, tears swam in her eyes, she couldn’t breathe and her heart was racing.
Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck.
The room swam as she tried to focus on the shelves that were only a few metres away. Bluebelle’s yellow-green eyes glowed at her from the darkness of the bottom shelf.
‘Meow,’ she said, head jerking up as if gesturing to the shelves above her.
‘Yes,’ Bron nodded sluggishly. ‘I should make myself a tonic.’ She tried to focus on the shelves Bluebelle hid under. Those shelves held all the ingredients her grandma had used to make a calming steam infusion when she was a child—lavender, ylang-ylang and frankincense, among other things. She just needed to put the ingredients together and turn the kettle on. If only she could do that, she’d be fine.
She tried to stand, but the room swung wildly and her legs shook. Breath rasped through her throat at the effort, the fist of panic squeezing her chest even tighter. She slammed back into her chair, fingers digging into the arms as she concentrated on pulling in her next breath. She tried to call out, but there was no sound.
No sound.
No help.
No breath.
She felt like she was going to die.
Chapter 5
River watched as Adam slammed into Bronwyn’s shop, Iain hot on his tail. The look on the Trickster’s face would normally have made River race in after him to protect the women inside, except River knew Adam would never hurt a hair on Bronwyn or Shelley’s heads. Besides, going in there himself would serve no purpose, other than to make him hurt even more than he already did.
He slunk back into the woods where Iain had found him earlier. His wolf whimpered in his throat as he walked away from where she was. He understood, filled with a need that could never be slaked.
‘This close but no closer,’ he told his wolf. It growled, even though it knew they had to stay away. They weren’t safe. And she was too important.
She was the pack’s new Healer Witch. They hadn’t had a Healer Witch for nearly a century. The pack wouldn’t want to see her or her talents squandered on a broken excuse of a Were like him. He had nothing to offer. Nothing to give. He didn’t even have himself. Having spent too many years drugged out and verging on insane, he didn’t know where he ended and the insanity began. Yet he had to be near her because he had to know she was safe, so he haunted the woods near her work every day. He felt her worry and pain when she couldn’t harness her power to help her clients. His heart bled with hers when she hung the ‘Closed’ sign on her door. He wanted to go to her and hold her while she cried. Wanted to find a way to make things easier, to show her a way, be her muse for her powers as she was for him when he worked on the gardens that had been given over to his care in the past few weeks.
He’d never worked so hard or so well, turning dead and dying things into a wilderness of beauty and wonder. A reflection of what he saw in her, what she brought out in him, despite the overwhelming sensation of panic and rising fear. Time was running out. But first, at least, he could create some beauty to leave behind. He had plans for the garden at her house that he would start today. Although he’d have to say he was doing it for Skye as he’d done with the garden at the packhouse. He could never let on it was all for Bronwyn. The pack already watched him with a wariness that was a tether on his soul. If they pitied him too, a lock would fall into place and he would never be able to free himself when the time came.
So he pretended and acted as if he was trying to find a way to mend himself, showing a stability he did not feel as the moon’s steady progress through its cycle pulled at him, calling to him, to the Beast, causing insidious ideas and longings to infest his dreams.
He wished there was some way of stopping the Beast from erupting, but he was afraid that even his grandmother’s drugs would be of no use now. The spells the ancient witch, Morrigan, had used on Samhain Eve had opened up something inside him; some primal, ancient thing that was the historical source of the Were, and there was nothing anyone could do to send it back to where it had come from. It was too strong. It had its claws in him and it wasn’t going to let go. But it needed the moon.
He looked up at the day shadow of the partial moon in the sky, his hackles rising at the taunting pale crescent. River was going to make damned sure the Beast never saw another full moon again.
As he dropped his gaze, he realised he’d circled back to a point where he could see the front of the shop. Adam was leaving, Shelley in his arms. He carried her like she weighed nothing, even though she was six foot and was built like an Amazon. Iain followed. They seemed to be arguing as Adam lowered Shelley into his car. Their voices were too low for River to hear, but Adam gave an order and Iain nodded, then headed to take up sentry duty outside the shop.
Adam’s car pulled out a moment later. Just as it disappeared around the corner, the world tipped and River stumbled. Panic flared through him, burning his chest, searing his nerves. Nausea swirled in his stomach and sweat drenched his skin. He saw a room, shelves containing bottles he needed so close and yet too far away. He reached for them …
And grasped air.
‘Bronwyn!’ He broke into a run, panic a hot lick of flame in his throat, a squeezing hand around his heart. She was alone. He had to help her.
‘River!’ Patrick, River’s Shadow for the day, called after him.
River didn’t stop to explain, just shouted, ‘Bronwyn’.
Iain looked up, startled, as River raced onto the porch, opened the door with a jangle of the bell and pelted inside.
Behind him he heard Iain say, ‘What the hell?’
‘Bron. He sensed something wrong with Bron,’ Patrick answered as he caught up. They both entered the shop behind River. ‘Where is she?’ Patrick asked.
River was already heading over to the back left hand side of the shop to the room that had ‘Staff only’ written on the door. ‘Bronwyn!’
At the sound of the voice, River’s voice, Bronwyn managed to take in a shuddering breath. The door to the workroom slammed open and there he was, his height and breadth blocking the view of the room behind him. Bluebelle hissed and skittered backwards under the shelving.
‘Bronwyn.’ He reached out to her but then his arms dropped back to his side as he halted just inside the room.
She wanted him to take her in his arms. Wanted the warmth of them around her. But he was too far away.
‘You’re all right. I thought I felt a …’
His words died. She waited for him to continue, needed him to talk. The more he spoke in that deep, husky voice, the more the tightness in her chest loosened.
‘Bronwyn? You are okay, aren’t you?’
Bron blinked, nodded. ‘Just a … panic attack. I’ll be … fine in a minute.’ She took in a couple of deep breaths as he stood there, hovering. Bluebelle growled as Patrick and Iain came to stand in the doorway behind River, trying to peer around him.
Oh Goddess! Did they have to be here too? She was supposed to be their Pack Healer; strong and together and always there for them in a crisis. Not someone who fell apart at the drop of a hat. Taking herself in hand, she decided it was time to stop trembling pathetically. Using the arms of the chair, she pushed up. Dizziness overcame her and she stumbled. Warm, strong hands caught her, stopped her from crashing to the floor.
She looked up. Met River’s gaze. His eyes were like molten bronze poured onto emeralds with licks of gold—hot, deep, intense. And they were filled with worry. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was worried about you.’
She frowned. ‘About me?’
He smiled. ‘Yes, about you.’
Bron had trouble concentrating as she looked up at his smile. He so rarely smiled. She reached up, her fingers trembli
ng for a moment on the edge of his lips. ‘You have a beautiful smile.’
The smile faded. He lowered her into the chair behind her, then let go and stepped back.
‘Is she okay?’ Iain asked from his position in the doorway.
River nodded. ‘Just been pushing herself too hard again.’
‘Should we stay?’
‘I think she needs a few moments to catch her breath. Then I’ll make sure she goes home to rest properly.’ Something jangled and River lifted his hand to catch it as Patrick threw it at him.
‘Keys to her car. Iain will keep guard outside. I’ll let Jason know.’
There was a look on River’s face she couldn’t decipher as he stared at the keys in his hands then threw them back to Patrick. ‘You forget. I can’t drive.’
Patrick nodded. ‘Iain will take you when you’re done here.’ He clapped his brother on the back. ‘Come on.’
Iain nodded and followed Patrick out the door. River watched them go, then turned away from her to look over the room.
Bron frowned. Was he avoiding looking at her now? Was he embarrassed that she knew he couldn’t drive? Of course he couldn’t drive. He’d been locked away in Cantrae House out of his mind on drugs since he was a little boy. There was probably a whole bunch of things he’d never done. ‘River?’
‘Have you been trying to tap into your powers?’
Her mouth gaped. ‘How …’ She shook her head. He couldn’t know.
‘I know why you closed your shop. Why you’ve suddenly been spending so much time alone. You’re having trouble with your powers.’
She gaped at him again.
‘You shouldn’t drive yourself so hard. You managed to heal me.’
She snapped her mouth closed. She wasn’t going to say anything. She didn’t want to admit it. Not yet. She opened her mouth to change the subject, but the truth tumbled out. ‘I didn’t heal you properly. And I needed a lot of help from Jason. I couldn’t have done it without his link to you. But I haven’t even been able to tap into that in the last two weeks. And if I want to keep my business and be of use to the pack, then I have to figure out what’s going on.’ She clapped her hand over her mouth. Why on earth had she told him that?
Moon Bound Page 5