by Tara Brown
“I was going to do that, but I did promise nothing creepy.”
“Oh my God.” I sat up, covering myself. Oliver still sat in the chair next to the window.
“You're really here?”
“Yes, and I really just saw you in your skivvies.”
I yanked the quilt up to cover myself. “You need to go back to your room.”
“I can’t. I’m drawn to you. I need to know what you’re thinking.”
I pushed my thoughts at him.
He grinned. “You think I'm old.”
“You are old.” I snuggled into my pillow.
“Can you imagine what you'll feel like in one hundred years?”
“Dead. I guess.”
“But you'll live forever. Humans age, but they don’t feel different. Ask any of them—physically they feel the age but mentally they feel as they did when they were twenty.”
“But you have always been old.”
“Not so. I had a birth. It just wasn’t like yours. I was born in the night sky. I've always been made of magic. I'm not so different from you.”
He got up, opening his dress shirt and walked across the room, causing my stomach to tighten. His weight on the bed made me flinch, ready to scream. But he took my hand and placed it on the hilt of the sword tattoo where his heart beat. It was lazy, compared to the rapid beat of my own. “My heart beats. I am real.”
I left my hand over his heartbeat, feeling him and his realness.
“See, just a man.” He opened his eyes.
“Why do I feel this way with you? Why am I not scared of you the way I should be?”
“Every soul has its mate. You are mine.”
“That’s a lie.” I pulled back, moving away from him. “You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t need to know you; our hearts know one another. I knew where you were the minute you uncloaked yourself. I felt you. I sent friends to check on you.”
“The wolf who tried to eat me?”
“No.” He tilted his head. “What wolf?”
“The one who tried to eat me but was thinking disgusting things about me. His mind was easy to read.”
“What wolf? What did he think?” Oliver’s tone changed.
“I don’t know. He just kept saying he liked witches. He was excited I was a witch.”
Oliver sighed. “Jon.”
“Who?”
“Have they told you about Aleks’ dad yet?”
“Oh right. His dad. Yeah. They told me that weird story that he killed girls.”
“He’s a terrible man,” Oliver whispered.
“Why is he like that?”
“Because of what you are. Jon killed a girl, before her powers had hit. She was a typical witch so her powers hadn’t come in because she wasn’t eighteen yet. Her father was a very powerful man. He was from the pure lines of the fae. His mother was the daughter of Lillith who married the elf.”
“You know this sounds like The Lord of the Rings.”
“You know the guy who wrote The Lord of the Rings knew about us all.”
I rolled my eyes. “Figures.”
“Anyway, the daughter who stayed with the elves, Marianne, gave birth to twin boys. Henry and Ethan. Henry never married but Ethan married a witch. She gave birth to a girl. The girl was Ethan's life. He taught her everything he knew about the Earth and magic. He loved her more than anything. Being such a close part of Lillith and part witch, she attracted attention. She was beautiful. Jon watched her, a lot. He waited for his chance. He captured her and did unspeakable things to her. Then he murdered her.”
“That’s horrid.”
“It was. When Aleks, who was thirteen at the time, found his father in the woods with the dead girl, he moved her body, hid it, and covered up the murder. He never told anyone what he'd done. Ethan searched everywhere for his daughter. It took many years but finally, he traded his goodness to the taint. He used dark magic to find out the truth of the matter. Destroyed by the fact that she was dead and so badly used, he lost his mind. Instead of killing Jon, he cursed him. Ethan assumed the townspeople knew about what had happened and had helped Jon cover it up. Ethan made him into a monster that would kill all their daughters. He would destroy their lives and never be able to be killed. He then cursed Aleks, who had helped hide what his father had done. He was forced to clean up after his father every day of his life. He made it so Aleks was an immortal who would rise when killed and forever find his joy in life, feeding off the pain and misery his father's acts created.”
I shivered. “That’s sick. Why didn’t he just kill him?”
Oliver looked down. “The darkness is strong and when you let it get hold of you, it makes your choices for you. More chaos comes from the decision made to create a monster.”
“Where is Ethan now? Maybe he can fix Jon.”
Oliver got up and sat back in his chair. “No, he died. Henry killed him.”
I snuggled into my pillow, scared of this story. “He killed his own brother?”
“Yes. He took his power. He had to. Ethan had become dark. The darkness ate him up and nothing was left of the kind shaman he used to be.”
“That’s a horrid bedtime story.” I yawned.
“No sadder than the others. Each of the Roses has a story that can parallel it.”
I closed my eyes, muttering, “But Aleks died, never killing his father or redeeming himself.”
“Yes, but at least his curse was lifted.”
“How?”
“Henry.”
“Henry the brother?” I was getting lost.
“Dorian went to Henry and swore to him that he would kill Aleks' father and end the pain caused. He also swore something he will never be able to give.”
I tilted my head up. “What?”
“That he would get Lillith to bless the remains of his niece and save her soul. The victims of Aleks' dad are haunted. When Ethan made the curse upon Jon, he never realized his daughter’s spirit still walked the Earth. He cursed his own child to a lifetime in the in-between.”
“Aimee's mom.”
Oliver nodded. “There are hundreds of them, his victims. A lot of them are witches who have yet to reach their age of power. He loves witches.”
I fought the memory of his muzzle trying to leap through the doorway at Jake. “I’ll convince my mom to save them all.”
“Uh huh.” I tried not to notice the patronizing tone he took as I drifted off to sleep again.
Chapter 21
Home
Sam
Seeing Ophelia sleeping in the same room as the angel should have made me angry. I wondered if she was using her body to trick him into giving away the secrets of the frozen fortress.
I cleared my throat.
O glanced up and blushed, her eyes darting to the man with his shirt open in the chair near her bed.
“I'll wait for you in the kitchen.” I nodded my head.
“Okay.”
I left the room, missing the feeling of being uncomfortable.
Giselle was staring out the window in the hallway. She was classically beautiful, leaning against the massive window, hiding from the light.
“You can go out. The sun won't burn you,” I commented as I grabbed some food.
She hissed at me. “Says the boy who has never been burned by the sun.”
“How's the kingdom going?”
Despair crossed her face. “Not great. I wish Marcus was back. I hate this. Yesterday I had to kill a little boy. He was like three hundred years old and he was this little brat. Anyway, he murdered three little girls. Drained them completely.”
“Yeah, doesn’t sound great,” I added to fill the space.
“I miss Lydia's. I miss Annabelle. She used to give these baths.”
I held a hand up. “I know. Those legendary baths are spoken of often.”
She sighed. “I just want to go home. I don’t like it here. Jeeves is sassy too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Giselle, hi
s name is Hamish for the millionth time. No wonder he's saucy.”
“Whatever. I'm going to bed.” She walked to the kitchen as O came hurrying in, pulling a shirt on over a tank top.
“What's up?” She seemed worried.
“We need to go to Alabama.”
“What? Why?” She grabbed a bag of marshmallows and started eating them.
“That’s unhealthy.”
“Anyway.”
“We need to go find the dark witches of the South. They live in some place called Lillian.”
“I'll do anything you want, Sam.” She said it with a blush.
I put a hand out. She touched it and suddenly we were standing next to a small white house.
I wished I could enjoy the sight of them all standing in the yard with puzzled expressions.
Beth frowned. “Sam?”
“Hi.” I took a step forward. “Aunt Beth.”
We hugged tightly.
“Did you find her, sweetie?”
“Yes and no. I’ve confirmed Jonathan has her. He always has.”
“And the children? Is Sarah all right?” Her brow knit.
“All the children are safe. Lydia and Annabelle are spoiling them rotten.” I wanted to be excited or sad or grateful to see them.
Aunt Beth sighed. “Oh thank the goddess.” She smiled sweetly and then tightened and glanced past me, scowling at O. “Why would you bring her here?”
Ophelia gazed around. “We’re looking for dark witches.”
“This is Ophel—”
“We know who she is, Sam. Why would you bring her here?”
“I don’t know. I need her help.” I normally would have hated my aunt using that tone with me. “She's done a spell on me and I wanted to see if any of you knew how to reverse it.”
Beth squeezed my arm, shaking me a little. “What have you done?”
“I made a mistake.”
Beth eyeballed Ophelia. “You have the stain of magic on you. A protection guard spell. Who did it?”
Ophelia was obviously dumbfounded. “I don’t know. I didn’t know I was a witch until, like recently.”
“Sam, her magic hasn’t come in yet. Why would she have spelled you if she has limited magic?”
“Because I used my charms, forcing her to.” I just said it, no feeling. “She broke my match for me.”
Gasps filled the air around us. Some of the women ran back into their houses. The others held crystals and spoke in hushed tones. Ophelia’s face flushed with embarrassment and maybe confusion.
“I asked her to do it.”
An old woman I didn’t recognize stepped forward. “I know how, but it won’t be worth it to you.”
“Why?”
“You'll be enslaved to her. The only fixing it makes you her blood-bond slave.”
I contemplated that for a moment and then Roland’s pain and anguish. “That’s the only way? There is nothing else?”
“Not unless you go to the dark witches. Even then, the only fixing it might end up with you matched with the witch who does the spell,” the older lady spoke softly.
“Okay. Well, thanks. We have to go.” I hugged my aunt once more.
“You foolish boy.” She trembled as she hugged me.
“I know,” I replied. I didn’t have anything else.
The older witch I didn’t know spoke to Ophelia, “Have you met the others?”
“What others?” Ophelia scowled.
“Your sisters?”
She paled. “I have.”
“I don’t envy you, child.” The old woman offered a kind smile.
“Yeah, I have to kill my brother and my mother, and then my sisters will give me their power. Only then can I help defeat my father and free the world from the evil. I feel like Frodo.”
A younger witch snickered. I knew her reference. Aimee had forced the movies on me a while back.
“We have to go. She can't be out and about without attracting her father's attention,” I muttered.
Beth squeezed my hands. “I miss you, son. Come home more often.”
“I will.” I wanted to feel the warmth of her. I wanted to enjoy the relief of coming home. But my heart was empty.
I took Ophelia’s hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back.
I winked and the muggy heat of Alabama hit fast and hard.
I could taste the tension of the dark magic in the air.
Chapter 22
Never give your blood to a stranger
Ophelia
Nausea and disgust filled me as we took our first steps.
“It's hot. It's too hot here. I feel something not good, Sam.” I clung to my stomach.
“I know. Stay close. In case I have to flash us instantly.”
“Okay.”
“I think we need to go this way.” Sam pointed to a road.
My stomach tightened. I wished Oliver were here. I felt safe with him. It was weird but I did.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just feeling something weird.”
He put a hand out. “I need to flash us forward. Probably smart for us to hold hands anyway. Easier for me to flash us home.” His huge warm hand closed around mine.
We flashed a few times, but the dirty feeling in the air was making me sick. I put a hand up. “I'm going to be sick if you do it again.”
“Sorry, I forget not everyone is used to it.”
“It’s not just the flashing. There’s something else.” I fought a puke shiver. “Not that I’ll ever be used to that flashing.”
My heart pounded in my chest. Suddenly, I felt a slice like from a knife, cut across my hand. I went to pull my hand from Sam's but his grip was intense. “Don’t let go.”
A group of women walked toward us, stretched across the road.
Lillith's daughter. An interesting thing to find on the road so far from anywhere. A voice rolled through my mind like the thunder in the clouds above. Why have you come, daughter of Lillith?
I stopped and waited for them to get closer. “Uh, look my name is Ophelia. You can call me O or some variation of that, but I'm not digging ‘Lillith's daughter’ much. I'm here for a spell.”
“You bring a siren with you?” a dark-haired woman with dark eyes asked.
A blonde chubby lady next to her laughed. “Not just any siren, Sister. He is Nephilim, if I'm not mistaken.”
“I can smell that in the air. He smells like sex and chocolate. How can you stand to be near him?”
“I'd eat a tasty little treat like that.”
They laughed.
I smiled at Sam. “He’s my friend.”
They didn’t look like dark witches. They looked like a group of ladies, except that their eyes were filled with darkness. No whites and no colors, just pitch black.
They wore regular clothes and had their hair done nicely.
Sam squeezed my hand.
I turned and focused on the women. “I need a spell.”
The dark-haired woman stepped forward. “You have no business here.”
Her threat lingered in the air.
“I need something. Surely you have a need.”
The dark-haired witch cocked her head and smirked at Sam.
“He is not a part of any bargain. What else can I give you?” I snapped.
“Blood.”
I frowned. “What?”
Sam shook his head. “No, not hers, but you can have mine.”
The dark-haired woman glanced back at the other twelve. She sucked her teeth. “Deal.”
“I'll tell you the secret to the spell after we get the blood. But basically, you need to absorb the broken ends of the match. The other person he was in love with needs to be present. She must offer you his blood and him hers. They need to offer you the blood bond. It must be done in a dark room or outdoors, where no guard is present. The shadows must be able to reach in and touch your soul.”
The chubby one grinned. “Risky move for a pure little girl like you. Your full magic hasn’t
even come in yet.”
Sam's grip tightened again. His fingers were cutting the circulation off.
The dark-haired woman pulled a vial from her handbag and a knife from her huge hair. She said something over the vial. It swirled red as if blood were already inside. Then suddenly it was clear again.
Sam put his free hand out for them. She reached for it like a snake striking. She rubbed it over her chubby, sweaty face. Sam appeared ready to gag but he held himself straight. She pulled his hand down to her level and licked his palm making him flinch. She dragged the knife across his open hand and then closed it tight into a fist. The blood dripped out quickly into the vial below.
Her smile grew wicked and crazed as the blood filled. “You idiots. You have no idea who he is.”
The blonde saw something behind us and hissed, stepping back.
I followed her gaze to find Oliver walking down the road. It created such a weird picture: him on that dusty road in his faded jeans and white dress shirt open slightly at the top, revealing a lot more tattoo. He wore his same odd loafers, but somehow they made the outfit seem classy.
He wasn’t in a sexy mood though. He had an angry face. “Give him back his blood.” His English accent was harsh when he was pissed off. Oliver glared at Sam's hand over hers and growled, “Give him back the blood, witch.” His gaze could have ripped Sam apart. “You never give your blood to anyone freely, you moron. She could control you.”
The dark-haired witch smirked. “Dark brother, what say we share them? You can have the girl and we take the siren. No one needs to know.”
Oliver took a step toward her. The baffled face spoke volumes. She was doing magic on Oliver, but it wasn’t working.
“No.” He snatched the blood vial from her hands. She quickly licked at the spilled blood. It was disgusting to see.”
Sam appeared calm but I was freaking out. Oliver was angry on an unimaginable level. Oliver shot daggers at Sam. “The castle—”
He never even got the sentence out and the three of us were standing in the front foyer of Giselle's.
I glanced at them. “We never got the secret.”
Oliver seethed, “Are you trying to get yourselves killed? I told you to find them. Not to give them your blood.”