by Eva Chase
“I don’t want to go back,” she said. “I want it to all be over already. I want to just get on with my life with the five of you. Why does it have to matter to anyone else?”
“Because people are assholes?” I suggested.
“An awful lot of them, yeah.” She cupped my cheek and kissed me again. “But I’m ready for them now. Thank you.”
I gave her a confused look. “Did you get more magic from that—when I’m not—?”
She touched my lips to stop me. “No, but that’s not what I meant anyway. Thank you… for believing I won’t be broken.”
I hugged her to me, wishing I didn’t have to let her go either. Wishing I didn’t still feel as if I were already broken. But it didn’t matter if I was. I’d shown her those cracks, and she’d wanted me anyway.
“You’ll break them,” I said. “And I’ll be watching from the wings to cheer you on.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rose
At eight-thirty, the party was going full speed ahead. Dozens of witching folk in trim suits and elegant dresses meandered through the manor’s front rooms, plucking up hors d’oeuvres that a couple of the kitchen staff were carrying around and drinking fine champagne and wine. The scents of thick and spicy sauces inspired by Egyptian cuisine drifted down the hall. In the great room where most of us had assembled, the trio of classical musicians I’d hired were keeping up a lively tune on their instruments.
“Quite a turn-out,” Philomena said at my side. “You’ve pulled off a dashing success.”
“Sure, if all I was trying to pull off was a happening party,” I said to her in my head. The more important part of the evening we had yet to reach. But despite the worries humming through my nerves, I was looking forward to getting it over with. Not least because of the guy at my other side.
Killian Sorensen had insisted on clamping one cool hand around my forearm about an hour ago, and he hadn’t let go since. I’d opted not to make any kind of scene, but my skin was crawling more with every passing minute. He smiled at me now—a bright but thin smile that brought a gleam to his eyes I couldn’t help seeing as predatory.
“Did you want some more wine?” he asked, leaning closer than he really needed to in order to be heard over the music and chatter.
I forced myself to smile back. “No, I think I’ll wait for dinner.” The truth was I’d poured most of my first glass into one of the potted plants when no one was looking. I needed a clear head tonight.
Killian didn’t look all that concerned by my refusal. Why should he? As far as he knew, I was a jilted young witch desperate for a consort, any consort.
Thank the Spark I’d only have to keep playing that role for another hour.
We took a turn around the room, greeting a few late arrivals to the party. I stopped by a small group of Dad’s colleagues I recognized from gatherings in Portland. I did still have some groundwork to continue laying.
“Rose!” one of the witches said. “You must be so proud of your father, my dear.”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “It’s wonderful to see him getting the chance to relax and celebrate. Especially after the stress he’s been under lately with his work. He deserves a reward like this.”
Just as I’d seen in conversations like this earlier, every set of eyes abruptly focused more sharply on me at my comment about stress. No one had mentioned Celestine’s death so far, so I had to assume her “accident” had been kept as quiet as possible, but Dad’s colleagues must have at least known she’d left. Now I could add a new dimension to their thoughts.
“Has he been pursuing a new project that’s been giving him some difficulty?” the witch’s husband asked.
“I’m not even sure,” I said with a wave of my hand and a laugh—a laugh I let sound a tiny bit forced. “He’s been holed up in his rooms so much in the last couple weeks, so dedicated to whatever he’s doing. I’m sure having all this company will do him some good. But it’s been ages since I talked to you. How is your daughter doing in her new job?”
Just like that, I changed the subject—but I could see their gazes linger a little longer than usual, speculatively, when Dad entered the room. They wouldn’t say anything outright to him, of course. But I’d planted a few more seeds of doubt about his mental well-being.
That knowledge made me feel powerful and slimy all at once. I closed my eyes for a second, reminding myself of Gabriel’s comment about the fox in a snare. I was biting my way out the only way I knew how, to free myself and my consorts. My guys were here with me even if they couldn’t be in the manor.
A bell rang to summon us for dinner. My pulse kicked up a notch. “Tell me more about your research into traditional wand-making,” I said to Killian as we moved toward the hall, to distract myself from my nerves—and to set the stage even more. “I’ve been even more curious about how methods have changed since seeing that artifact my dad brought back from Cairo. Are there a lot of differences across witching communities in different cultures?”
Killian started rambling on about the contrast between Eastern and Western magical tools, and I watched the party-goers around us. In the dining room, everything was laid out as I’d placed it before the party. The wand case sat in front of Dad’s chair. I took my seat at his right, Killian finally letting go of my arm. My heart thumped even harder as Dad settled into his chair. His eyes flickered toward the wand case, pulled away, and flickered back again.
My magic was working, drawing him in.
Our guests gathered all around the huge table. The servers swept around them, setting down plates of the appetizer. The tart and savory smell made my mouth water even though my stomach was too twisted up for me to look forward to eating.
Well, I wasn’t going to be doing much eating tonight anyway. It was kind of a shame, all that good food that was going to go to waste.
I almost laughed—possibly hysterically—at that thought. My fingers clenched together in my lap. Then I made myself tap Dad’s elbow.
I’d done everything I could to prepare. It was time to see this plan through.
“You should give a little speech,” I said. “Now that we’ve got everyone in the same room. A toast or whatever.”
“Of course,” Dad said, patting my hand. “You think of everything, don’t you?”
He stood up, and the chatter around the table quieted. Everyone looked to him.
“Friends and colleagues,” Dad said. “I’m honored to have you here today, and to have orchestrated the deal we’re all celebrating, which will bring even more security and prosperity into our community. I have to of course give thanks to my two long-time associates who helped broker that deal…”
As he went on giving credit where due and telling a couple of amusing stories about the trip to Cairo to make his audience laugh, I curled my fingers in a quick form under the table. A tiny jolt of magic to fully activate the energy with which I’d imbued the wand. I didn’t even look at the case, just kept my gaze on Dad with an encouraging smile, as if I had no idea what was coming.
The servers brought another set of plates out, and Dad reached for the wand’s case. “It’s also my pleasure,” he said, an eager glint lighting in his eyes, “to share with you an artifact I brought back from my travels there. I’ve never seen anything quite like this rare piece before. It cost me a small fortune to obtain it, but well worth it to own an ancient part of our history.”
My breath caught as he popped open the case. He lifted out the wand with a grin that was maybe over-wide now. The gems embedded in the wood flashed with more than just the reflection from the crystal chandelier overhead.
An awed murmur passed through the crowd of guests. Killian leaned close. “That is a spectacular piece. Your father didn’t mention he’d obtained something like that.”
Because he’d been too busy selling me into magical slavery, presumably. I shot my supposed consort-to-be a quick smile, honestly grateful for the opportunity to add to my groundwork. “You’ll have to ask him to
let you have a closer look later. Although he hasn’t let anyone touch it since he brought it home.” I let out a giggle intended to sound a little nervous. “He snapped at me when I picked it up in his office right after he got back.”
The last word was only just dropping from my lips when other breaths caught all around the table. The second part of my spell was bearing fruit.
In a literal sense. As Dad held up the wand, a glimmering image of a tree sprouted up from its tip. It grew up toward the high ceiling and out. The filmy, glowing branches arched over the dining table, glittering apples and pears forming at their tips, as if beckoning the guests to take them. Eddies of wild magic whirled around the room, tracing spirals of sparkles in the air.
The server who’d just walked back in dropped his plate with a crash. He stood stock still, staring. The guests near him jerked around. A few people gasped. One man leapt to his feet.
“Maxim, that’s enough. Think of the company.”
He jerked his gaze toward that server and the other who was gaping motionless on the other side of the room.
But Dad’s face was lit with a hungry glow. More, my spell would be whispering to him on a level below sound, below thought. Look what you’ve created. You have to see more. Can’t they all see how beautiful this is?
“Dad,” I said, as if to try to stop him myself. Mr. Frankford, at his other side, sprang up and grasped his hand.
Physical contact was the trigger for my spell to shift again. Anger contorted Dad’s face as his friend tried to wrench the wand away from him.
“No!” he shouted. “It’s mine. You will all bow down!”
He lashed his arm, and the tree’s branches fragmented into blazing vines. They streaked through the air, darting in every direction, searing lines of fire rippling all down their lengths and casting a wavering reddish glow over the room. With a hiss and a crackle, the vines smacked into the witching folk who’d started to get up all around the table, into Frankford and his wife, knocking them to the floor.
I hadn’t realized just how terrifying the scene would be in real life. A shriek I didn’t have to force burst from my throat as I ducked beside the table. Never mind Jin’s artworks—the spell I’d cast already was plenty powerful on its own.
Heat filled the air. A sweat that was both temperature and fear broke over my skin. Frankford was lying on the floor by Dad’s other side, clutching at his neck. One of the flaming vines had wrapped around his throat, searing the skin with a burning-flesh smell that made my stomach turn. The veins stood out in his temples as he thrashed.
All that power was mine. And I’d thought I was holding back.
Someone cried out on the other side of the table. There was a thump and the crackle of smashing glass. The remaining vines whipped through the air overhead, seeking more targets.
Over it all Dad was still hollering in a now-ragged voice. “You think you can hurt me? I’ll show you what you get for that. Don’t you dare try to cut me down!”
The words barely made sense. But his magic- and fury-addled mind would be seeing the figures around the table lunging at him with spells and weapons. My spell would be telling him he was only defending himself in the moment.
Someone had to stop him. Please, soon. This was enough. But I couldn’t be the one to end the spell.
I flinched as a vine blazed past me, even though I knew they were magicked to avoid hurting me. Then a voice charged with power rang out from the end of the room.
“That’s enough!”
A wave of magic swept over us, crashing through the vines and throwing me against the floor. My tailbone jarred. In the wake of the new spell, everything was silent except Dad’s frantic babbling.
“No. No. It’s gone. It can’t be gone. I swear, you come into my home and you—”
Hands clapped together. His mouth clamped shut. I peeked out from under the table, my legs shaky, to see one of the older witches standing at the far end of the table. Her power radiated off her as she stared down my dad.
“Someone call the Assembly,” she said. “And anyone who can, help me see to the wounded. And get the staff out of here!”
Dad dropped down in his chair, his arms stiff at his sides, his expression rigid. She’d cast another spell on him, one meant to hold him in place, clearly.
Despite everything, my heart wrenched as I got to my feet, taking a step back from him at the same time.
The magic I’d cast would be crumbling away like that burnt belladonna. In a matter of seconds, no shred would remain but the memories that would seem perfectly real in his mind and the actually real memories of all these witnesses. I’d left no chance for anyone to realize that his breakdown had been provoked by an external source. Even the wand, still clutched in his hand, was completely hollow of power now.
Voices carried all around me. People hustled past me to see to Frankford and his wife, the other fallen witching folk with their burns and bruises. Someone—probably Killian—let out a groan of pain behind me. I could only look at Dad.
Check mate, I thought. I’ve won. But the sense of victory came with a discomfort like a thorn digging into my chest.
If there’d been any other way to save my guys, I’d have taken it.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Rose
I took a sip of my tea as if to compose myself. The honey-laced jasmine flavor did actually settle my racing pulse a little. I brought the cup back to the saucer on my lap and gave the Assembly investigator who’d arrived a half hour ago a pained smile.
“I’m sorry there isn’t more I can tell you. Even though he seemed so worked up about his ‘artifact’ when he got back from Cairo, and even more distracted than usual, I thought it was just excitement about the deal. I never would have thought he’d hurt anyone.”
It wasn’t hard to work a wobble into my voice. I really hadn’t thought Dad could be that cruel, not up until the moment when he’d lied so blatantly to my face about his hopes for my consorting.
“Thank you for speaking with me all the same,” the woman said, brushing her fawn-brown hair back behind her ear as she considered her notebook. “You’ve been able to shed some light on his behavior leading up to this incident, at least. I’m sure it’s quite a shock, especially when coupled with your— Well, with everything else you’ve been facing.”
My broken engagement, she meant. I bowed my head. Or maybe that was two broken engagements now. Killian had been tended to by a witching doctor and then hightailed it out of my life, thank all that was lit and warm. Enslaving an innocent witch, no problem. Tying himself to a potentially crazed father in law, no thank you. I guessed he had his priorities straight, anyway.
“It’s been a difficult few weeks,” I said. “What’s going to happen to Dad now?”
“We have to wrap up the investigation, and then we’ll continue to examine him. There will be reparations to be made, restrictions placed. I expect it’ll be some time before we feel he’s safe to return to regular society.” Her mouth twisted sympathetically. “It’s unlikely he’ll return home until at least a few months have passed. You’d be best off not waiting for him, Miss Hallowell. While he’s in Assembly custody, this estate is under your authority. You should go on with your life as well as you can.”
“I’ll try,” I said. But as I walked her to the front door, a glow was already spreading through my chest. She got into her car and drove off down the road. The sun beamed down over the front gardens, warm and bright. The breeze was rustling through the gardens.
I had no one and nothing to answer to, at least for a short while. I’d even dismissed Mrs. Gainsley this morning. I’d acted distraught, told her I blamed her for not noticing that my father was up to something sinister. It had felt pretty good to say a few cutting things to her even if they weren’t exactly the most accurate cutting things. She’d protested, but, like the investigator had said, my word was the law here now.
It didn’t even matter if the Assembly decided Dad was ready to come hom
e in just a few months. I’d be twenty-five then. As the only living female Hallowell, now of age, all the family properties would officially belong to me. I’d still have to keep my magic hidden from him, but I could send him off to Portland or wherever else, and there’d be nothing he could do to challenge me.
I was free. For the first time in who knew how long, I was really and truly free.
A smile stretched across my face as I leaned into the sunlight. Then Gabriel came out of the garage, and my lips curved even higher.
I came down the steps to meet him. With Mrs. Gainsley and her husband gone, no staff here on Sunday except a couple of security guards and the woman who handled our weekend cooking and cleaning, there was no reason I couldn’t reach out and take his hand.
He ran his thumb over my knuckles with a gentle pressure that sent a pleasant shiver over my skin. “Miss Hallowell,” he said in a teasing voice. “I thought I’d see if you’d be interested in taking a drive.”
“You know,” I said, “that sounds lovely. I know just the place.”
I got into the front seat of the Buick next to him, because why not? We weren’t likely to pass anyone on the way, and if we did, it wouldn’t look all that strange. At least, from what they could see from outside the car. After Gabriel turned onto the road outside, he let his hand drop from the steering wheel to rest on my leg. The warmth of his hand bled through the thin silk of my dress, and heat spiked up my thigh.
The old farmhouse looked different from even when Seth had shown it to me just last week. For one thing, it looked even less old. The clapboard slats had been painted a pale yellow like the porch, a hue that matched the sun’s glow. A porch swing hung on gleaming chains beside the front door. And a tall hedge had been planted in a wide rectangle around the back of the house. Voices carried over it as we got out of the car.
A wooden door opened in the hedge and Seth’s head poked out. His expression brightened when he saw us. “You made it quickly. Come on back. It’s probably about time we took a break.”