He narrows his eyes further, almost sneering at her before his gaze pivots to me. “Given current events, I don’t think it’s wise you attend.”
Gabs groans like a child. “She has to. She’s my bestie.”
“I’m going, Enrique.” I watch his eyes, judge his reaction. “It’s important to me to be there for Gabs.”
There’s a long silence as he stares at me. He disapproves, but eventually he nods. “Very well.” He looks at Cherie. “If my witch is going, so am I. Consider this my RSVP, Miss Valentine.”
C nods. “Call me Cherie.” She takes up her phone and taps on it. “Since we’re on a first name basis.” When his attention is on me, she smirks.
“So, back to important business,” Enrique says. “Think about this, Shavone. Placed in your circle across the street is one stone from each of the larger temples at Brú na Bóinne — Knowth, Dowth, and the single piece from Newgrange is said to have been harvested from the direct center of the temple’s interior.” Picking up his fork, he places a bite of meat in his mouth and chews.
Cherie’s eyes round in awe. She, Ells and I drop our jaws, again.
Wow.
“That explains the power we felt during the blessing,” Ells murmurs.
I can’t argue with that. The energy was tremendous. The comfort I felt from the spirits and the natural world in that circle was amazing. But Nash built it. The fact that he was involved at all sours it quite a bit.
“Why would Nash do that? Make such a circle for me?”
“Because despite his incompetence and shortcomings, he’s a wolf concerned about your welfare, Niña.”
I snort. “Even if that were true” — and given the lies Nash has told, I don’t believe it — “how do you know about the circle much less who created it?”
“Self preservation. As I’ve said, to live long lives, alphas must be aware of what goes on around them.” He takes another huge bite of steak and doesn’t look at me.
There’s more to it than that, but I set the issue aside for now in favor of an answer to a more immediate question. “Do you know who harvested the divine stones?” Harvesting stones and their power from another circle takes several witches and a lengthy ceremony. Successfully harvesting from Brú na Bóinne would take some time. Other than mom, I can’t think of any witch who would do that for me.
“Elderly benefactors who wish to empower a young witch.” He shrugs as though it’s nothing of note. Again, he doesn’t look at me and I get the sense there’s more to the story.
“Ells? Cherie? Have your moms said anything about a stone harvest?”
Both shake their heads no.
“What does it matter? It’s settled. You’ll use the circle.” Enrique insists.
Agustin hurries in with a phone in hand. “It’s urgent.”
“Excuse me, ladies.” Enrique sets down his napkin, stands and takes the phone. He walks toward the butler’s pantry, lifts the phone to his mouth. “What is it?”
Cherie leans toward me. “You know, your necklace always reminded me of the spiral markings at Newgrange.”
I reach for the empty spot on my chest.
“You’re not wearing it?” Ells says. “You always wear it.”
“It’s lost, missing since the kidnapping.”
“We’ll include it in the locator spell.” Cherie steals one of my grapes. “Given the power in those stones in your new circle, we might not need the light of the waxing crescent.”
“You think? It’s only a couple of days away,” I say.
Ells smiles. “With that circle, you may be able to do any spell you want, anytime you want. How awesome would it be to never have to wait for the right lunar cycle, again?”
I’d rather not speak to anyone in that house again. I get up for more coffee on the sideboard.
chapter 9
“I’m not leaving the little witch alone.” I listen to Uncle Emmanuel on the phone.
Leaning on the counter with my legs crossed at the ankles, I watch Shavone near the sideboard. She sets the coffee-saturated napkin on a stack of dirty dishes. Even something so mundane, so inconsequential, she does with amazing grace. I could watch her move for days and never get bored.
“LaFontaine has a search warrant,” Uncle Emmanuel says.
“I don’t give a damn,” I say, my eyes on the little witch’s ass as she turns to pour herself a fresh cup of coffee. “Let him search the Dollhouse. Perhaps the detective will actually come up with something.”
On the word detective, Shavone turns to look at me. Gazes locked, she walks toward me.
“You called Kennedy, correct?” I try to listen to his answer, but I’m quite distracted by Shavone. My eyes rove her face as she comes ever closer, slowly, as though she were a figment of my imagination.
“Enrique?” Uncle shouts through the phone. “Are you there? I need you here.”
“No, you don’t. Just don’t say a word until Kennedy arrives. You can handle it. I’m not leaving Shavone.” I say it for her as much as for my uncle. My eyes bore into concerned gray ones.
Her pink lips purse as she approaches my free side. My arm around her waist, I revel again at the joy of having her so near.
“I’ll go to the Dollhouse with you,” she mouths.
“Just a moment, Uncle.” I cover the phone mic with my thumb.
“No,” I say softly. “You are not returning to the scene of your attack.”
“You think I’ll be traumatized?”
I quirk an eyebrow.
“Enrique, the kidnapping isn’t the worst that’s happened over the last 48 hours.”
To me it is. The betrayal by the LaFontaine’s and her sister can’t compare to Shavone being in physical danger. I can heal her heart.
“I want my phone and purse, and my worship tools are in my car. I’ll need those,” she continues.
“No.” I shake my head, adamant. “One of my uncles can get those for you.”
Hair flutters across my arm as she tilts her head. “I have to go. A spell at the scene could provide some answers.” She lightly places her hand on my chest.
The lovestruck beast swoons at her touch. Do whatever she wants.
I force him back into his cage and narrow my eyes at Shavone. “No.”
Chin raises as her hand drops. “That’s fine. I can catch a ride with the girls.” She moves to step away.
My arm wraps tighter around her waist, holding her in place. Removing my thumb from the phone mic, I speak into it. “Uncle, you need to handle it. You’ll do fine. Antonio should be there soon.” I hang up in the middle of his verbal barrage and set the phone aside.
“Listen to me, little witch. You do not attempt to manipulate me.”
Her expression darkens. “And you do not attempt to make decisions for me.”
Fierce. Independent. Lovely.
“So you admit to manipulating me,” I smirk.
“I was simply stating my case.” She presses against my chest to push away.
I lock both my hands behind her. “State your case, then.”
She closes her eyes. “I just — I really need to find my necklace.”
“I know.” A hand on the back of her head, I gently tilt it back.
Her eyelids lift.
“I am on your side. Hmmm?”
“I know.”
“Do you?” I hope so.
She nods and her eyes soften. “Yes, I do, but you can’t lock me in a tower.”
“Why not?” I tease.
“Enrique,” she chides. “The Dollhouse is the last place I remember having my necklace. It makes sense to start there.”
“Yes, it does, but not today.”
“Absolutely, today. Before the trail grows much colder.”
“Niña, you’re still tired. I can see it in your eyes.” The haze, though lifting, lingers in the soft gray.
“I’m feeling better, especially now that I’ve eaten.”
“Alright.” I concede.
&nbs
p; She smiles triumphantly.
“If.” I raise my finger in front of her face. “There are no more episodes of lightheadedness, we’ll go later today, this afternoon or this evening.”
“Enrique.”
“Hush. Your necklace is important, but your health more so.”
She sighs and purses her lips. “I suppose.”
“I know.” I lightly kiss her nose, and, reluctantly release her to reach for the phone. “I have another call to make.”
“Okay.” She turns away from me. I watch her hips sway as she goes back to the dining room.
Shavone out of ear shot, I quick-dial Antonio’s number. I’m sent directly to his voice mail.
“Antonio. Put your dick away for the morning. DPD is at the Dollhouse with a search warrant.” I hang up.
For long moments, I stare at her sitting at the table — her mouth as she speaks to her friends, the soft movement of her hair when she shakes her head at something said, her profile as she leans in to an earnest conversation.
My mate is beautiful, a beautiful master manipulator and my wolf jumped instantly. I sigh. The two of them are going to be a problem to her well-being.
I place the phone in the cradle and move to rejoin the young women at the table.
The Santana girl speaks to Shavone. “I’ll text you the gate code. If I’m not there, tell the housekeeper that grandmother wants you to have the pink guest suite.”
My beast growls.
The she-wolf, despite her natural fear, turns to face me. “Grandmother invited Shav to move into our house” — Gabriela lowers her head, cowering under my wolf’s glare — “for protection.”
Shavone isn’t going anywhere.
My wolf snarls at the Santana girl.
“Enrique,” the little witch murmurs, touching my arm.
Upon her scolding, the beast’s anger lowers to a simmer.
I retake my chair. “Shavone will remain right here under my protection this time. Please thank Maria and your family for all they have done, but we respectfully decline. ”
“We?” Lauralynn smirks. “I didn’t hear S say a word. Why don’t we ask her what she wants?”
What if she wants to leave because you didn’t do as she asked? My wolf scowls internally.
I turn my attention to Shavone. “What would you like?”
Please stay. Forever.
Gray eyes gaze at me as her soft hand slips into mine. “I want to stay here.”
Overjoyed, my beast puffs his chest. I raise her hand to my mouth.
“Oh, good god.” Gabriela sighs. “If you two are done making goo-goo eyes at each other.”
Not taking my eyes off my mate, I smile. I’ll never be finished staring at her.
“Unbelievable.” Cherie squints at us.
“Here, Miss Blasé and Miss Jaded. Have some more fruit.” Lauralynn places slices of honeydew on their plates.
Shavone blushes sweetly, turns her head to speak to Gabriela.
“Speaking of unbelievable. I can’t believe you’re getting married in a few weeks.” Shavone grimaces. The Santana girl is mating far beneath herself. For the first time, I wonder why. Brides are usually ecstatic and glowing. She certainly is not. If she isn’t mating for passion, then what is the purpose of the union?
“Do you need help with anything?” Shavone asks.
“Not really.” Gabriela shrugs. “Grandmother is flying Mademoiselle Beatrice up from Telluride for our final dress fitting this week.” Looking away, the bride-to-be cuts off a bite of melon. “Then, Cherie and I will go down next week to finalize reception details.”
The three witches at the table glance at one another, their feelings about the Santana-Erickson wedding clear in their expressions.
Shavone rises and moves toward the sideboard. “Just tell us where to be for the fitting and we’ll be there.”
As long as it isn’t today. I pick up my fork and knife to finish my breakfast.
“We’ll do it at grandmother’s,” the Santana girl says.
Good. I’d rather Shavone stay within the wolven enclave.
Her breathing has changed. My beast alerts me that something is wrong.
Stock still and eyes open wide, my witch looks directly forward at the wall.
“Are you alright?” I rise and move toward her.
Coffee overflows her cup and spills down the cabinet. Her eyelids droop as her head lolls forward and her knees buckle.
“Shavone!”
I catch her just in time to keep her head from smashing onto the sideboard.
“S!” The Valentine girl cries. The girls are on their feet.
Gently, I lay my witch on the soft silk rug. My heart in my stomach, I lightly pat her cheek. “Shavone?”
Brow creased, her eyes move rapidly beneath her lids.
The Taylor girl kneels by her other side. “She looks ensorcelé.”
“Well, un-spell her!” I glare at the girl. If she knows what’s wrong, why isn’t she doing something about it? “Now!”
“I wish it was that simple,” she says.
Shavone is so pale. “You’re hexed,” I murmur into her ear. “Fight it.”
Her eyes flutter open for a few seconds, then, close. The eyeballs once again roll around behind her lids.
The little witch’s head twitches and she frowns. She’s stronger than whoever did this, of that I am certain. But she isn’t. She needs spiritual assistance. I lift her limp body and move quickly.
“Uncle Agustin!” I shout on my way through the hall. “Uncle!”
The girls run after me.
“Yes. What?” He stops short when he sees Shavone passed out in my arms. “Oh, my.”
“Call the LaFontaine residence. Tell them to open their back gate. Shavone needs that circle.”
“Right away.” He hurries in the other direction.
Outside, the Valentine girl stops at her car. “I’ll get my tools.”
I nod in acknowledgment, but don’t stop to wait. Out of my gate, I walk briskly, attempting to hurry, yet not jar Shavone too much. She stirs in my arms, panting as though under stress, her eyes unbelievably active beneath the lids.
“Please, Niña. Trust in your strength,” I murmur.
No one is at the LaFontaine gate and it remains closed.
“Break it,” I order the Santana girl.
“What?” She steps back. “This is an alpha’s place.”
“Fucking break it!” My beast snarls, reminding her that I’m also an alpha.
“Do it Gabs,” the Taylor girl insists. “For S.”
Gabriela steps up. Using her Lycan strength, she pries the iron spindles apart enough for us to step through.
“Hey!” Valerie screams from the back door. “I told that fucker on the phone, hell no. She can’t use it.”
Fuck you, you nasty cunt.
“It’s an emergency.”
Witch or not, try to stop me and I will rip you apart.
The brown haired girl rushes down the drive, but halts, her eyes rounding. “What’s wrong with Shav? What happened?”
“She’s spelled, V.” Cherie, running to catch up, removes several candles from her bag of tricks.
As though she gives a shit, Valerie reaches for Shavone’s hand.
“Don’t touch her,” I bark.
The bitch of a sister starts and draws her hand back. The caring persona vanishes as fast as she put it on.
Through the trees, I step over the sacred stones and delicately lay my love in the center of the circle, brush the hair out of her eyes and lightly kiss her lips. “Please, mi dulce. You’re in the circle. Draw from its power.”
“We’ll take it from here,” Cherie says, indicating I should back away.
No. Wolf growling, I lace my fingers through Shavone’s unresponsive ones.
“Enrique,” Lauralynn pleads and touches my arm. “We need you to let go of her so we can help her.”
Reluctantly, I let go of Shavone’s hand, but remain kn
eeling at her side.
The girls begin.
“Elders and ancients, earth, fire, water and wind, we call on every power gifted to witches. Hear us!”
The candle flames erupt.
“Your daughter lies at our feet, her soul ensorcelé.”
A light mist emanates from the stones. As the girls continue their incantation, the mist hovers over the candle flames which shoot ever higher — as if the two elements — fire and air — battle for control.
The witches glance at one another. The uncertainty in their expressions worries me.
“What?”
“There’s just a very strong presence here.” Lauralynn’s forehead creases.
“And more than one,” Cherie says.
Good. That’s what Shavone needs, the ancestors’ help.
I nod. “Continue.”
“Continue what?” Ben LaFontaine rushes through the trees, his eyes widen at the sight of Shavone unconscious on the ground. “What the fuck did you do to her?” Ben grabs the back of my collar and yanks me out of the circle.
“Arrrrrgh.” My beast bursts through, reaches behind for his arms and flips him to the ground with a thunderous thud. Claws out, I hold them to his throat, ready to slice.
In the circle, Shavone wails — a piercing sound of pain. Both Ben and I turn our heads in her direction.
The mist has settled around Shavone. She whimpers, tears streaming from her eyes.
“Stop. You’re hurting her!” I stand.
The two young witches continue the conjuration.
“I said stop!”
The Valentine girl shakes her head, near tears. “We can’t or we’ll lose her.”
“What?” My heart pounding, I watch my witch closely.
The candle flames draw higher still and the mist, thick and dense, swirls around as though trapped in a giant snow globe. When another painful howl rips from Shavone’s throat, I can take no more.
I shift and leap toward the circle. The mist swirls like a tornado, and throws me back on my ass. “Arrrrgh.” I get back up and charge again. Again, the spirits prevent me from entering the circle.
“Noooooooooo!” Shavone roars at the top of her lungs. Her back arches and her body thrashes wildly.
Soft Fate (Wolven Moon Book 2) Page 5