I thrust aside the flash of hesitation. To them, I would have the rest of my life to sneak snuggles, to watch this glorious little child grow into a beautiful woman like her mother. Countless years to witness her explore the world around her and make her mark.
It almost made me weep at how wrong that assumption was. There would never be enough time, and at best, I only had a fraction—a mere blip on the radar of human existence.
But they didn’t know.
And they would never know.
Yet another secret I kept from them and would take to the proverbial grave.
“Mother,” I murmured softly, laying the baby in the crook of her arm. “May I present, Lucinda Lockhart.”
The wee bairn cooed as she opened her eyes. A wet smile curled her lips and she blew an impromptu bubble for her grandmother. It was like magic—the affect lifting the heaviness that caused my mother’s shoulders to sag. Both of my parents now had something to live for . . . someone to focus all their hopes and dreams on.
“Hello, my beloved,” she whispered reverently. With a tenderness that humbled me, I watched as she lifted the baby to her face, kissing her. “Welcome home.”
I could already feel a change in the room—our home—the air still as though also awestruck by the scene. Tears flowed silently over my mother’s cheeks. A quick glance confirmed she wasn’t the only one overcome with emotions. My father sat patiently waiting his turn, pride blazing from his eyes.
“You’re sure, son?” he asked, unable to tear his gaze from his wife and the precious gift they’d been granted. “Our Lucinda is safe?”
“I promise,” I answered, nodding as I spoke. “She has a lot of people looking out for her. She will want for nothing.” I kept the rest of that thought to myself . . . except for her uncle.
“He’s gone. Right?” My father’s voice was gravelly in its harshness and his eyes steely with rancor. While my mother had been spared many of the details regarding Elynor’s relationship with Julian Blackwell, my father had not. He knew it all in bitter, painful, gut wrenching detail. He was right to question Julian’s absence. He would never know magical precautions had been taken and I was here with knowledge of our futures.
All I could do was nod. “Positive. Lucinda’s ours . . . yours . . . and she has the rest of her life ahead of her. Although,” I chuckled, reaching out to play with her tiny fingers, “I suggest you start preparing now for the suitors who will come wanting to court her. I have a feeling this one will be an even bigger heartbreaker than her mother.”
“Nothing you and I can’t handle, son,” he replied. What was said in jest pierced my heart. I would be of no help to Lucinda . . . at least not in the way he implied.
She would be better off without me, I grimly mused. Memories rushed to the surface—memories I quickly squashed under stone and brick—anything to keep the images of swirling blood and despair from taking hold.
There would be plenty of time for that.
To remember.
To relive.
Shaking my head, I refused to waste even a millisecond on such morbid recollections. I would take this opportunity to revisit and enjoy the memories that had kept me going throughout the years. I’d told Darcy when she was completing the Heart And Death tasks that the key to survive things was to stay in the moment. There was no changing the past and obsessing over the future only guaranteed anxiety and ulcers.
I would take each of these days and enjoy them as they came, before they once again were memories I would revisit time and again when the world seemed too dark. They were the light I needed to remind myself why I kept fighting.
These would become my tales of redemption.
“Sweetheart,” my father prodded, obviously tired of waiting. “May I?”
“Be careful, support her head like . . .” From the way my mother coached her husband, relinquishing her hold on Lucinda, you would’ve thought he’d never held a child before. He didn’t correct her, though. Instead, he simply grinned and thanked her before casting a wink at me.
“Well, hello there. I’m your papa.” For a moment, it seemed as if time flickered backward, revealing a much younger version of my father. In my mind’s eye, it wasn’t difficult to imagine him sitting just like this—cradling both my sister and me in his large, calloused hands as if we were the most cherished treasures in the universe.
She’ll be okay with them watching over her. They will give her everything I won’t be able to . . . that Elynor couldn’t. I let out a tired sigh, pushing aside my depressing thoughts. No amount of recollections or what-ifs would change what was to come.
I slowly backed away, content to leave this small family to become better acquainted, a large knot in my throat forming. What I wouldn’t give to be able to spend endless hours observing Lucinda, taking note of all her subtle nuances and changes as she grew. But that wasn’t to be—I had other things that dictated my attention.
Leaving the house and taking in huge gulps of air, I marveled at how simple life had once been. We had a peaceful existence, wanting for nothing, and I hadn’t realized just how much I missed it—until the Fates thrust me back to this time.
Oh, the plans we’d made. I was to follow in my father’s footsteps and continue his legacy. We were respected and well liked by those in our small parish. It was assumed I would ask for Verity’s hand in marriage and provide both sets of parents with a house filled with children. We would grow old together—hearts content as we celebrated lives centered around love, laughter, and family.
I closed my eyes, faintly seeing the ghosts of what might have been. A cool evening breeze tickled at my face and it stirred the few strands of hair that had come free of the tie at the back of my neck. As time passed, functionality dictated that I cut my hair to a more conventional style, but I could never bring myself to do it.
It was a link to who I truly was and who I had left behind.
The human Devlin.
A carefree Devlin.
A Devlin who’s only thought was filling his wife’s belly with his children and providing them a life worthy of beloved fairytales.
“A penny for your thoughts, my friend.”
Vivien emerged from the shadowy path, coming into the lit area where I stood lost in thought. It was on the tip of my tongue to blurt out my thoughts. I yearned to confide in her . . . in anyone . . . someone who could help carry this substantial burden and remind me I wasn’t quite as alone as I felt.
The day would come when Vivien would become that confidante, but not yet. Until then, I would continue to smile and lie, praying I would be forgiven when the truth eventually came out.
I nodded toward the window, the fire’s glow illuminating the frame. Inside, I saw my parents still cooing over a now sleeping Lucinda. There was no need to convince Vivien because the moment she caught a glimpse, her smile lit up her face.
“Silly question,” she said. We lingered there in silence, the only sounds coming from the creatures in the woods surrounding the house. Somewhere in the stillness, a vixen was snuggled with her cubs, birds were nestled in tree branches, and quiet stars twinkled in the night sky.
God, how I’d missed all this.
“We need to discuss what happens next,” I finally spoke. There was no point delaying the inevitable. “I have a blood oath to honor.”
She nodded, gradually turning her back on the sight of familial bliss inside so she could look at me. “It would seem you do. May I ask why you agreed to such a promise?”
I’d asked myself the same thing and, with a shrug, I offered her the only answer I knew. “Because she asked.”
There were many ways to honor deathbed requests—formal and informal. It wasn’t uncommon for relatives to exact some type of assurance as the last seconds of their lives dwindled away. Sometimes a simple agreement or word was enough to alleviate any regret, so the person could peacefully pass on to the next world. A blood oath, however, was very different. It was binding. Once sworn, there was no bac
king out of it. You either fulfilled it or died trying. One was never entered into lightly and usually only requested in the direst of circumstances.
I hadn’t really considered the task I’d accepted when I heard Elynor mention it. All I’d known was this was the very last thing she would ever ask of me. It had felt impossible to refuse her—cowardly even.
Still, even with all the foreknowledge I now had, if asked again my answer would remain a resounding ‘yes’. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for family.
“It won’t be easy,” Vivien continued, eyeing me curiously. She was used to my sister doing all the talking whenever we were together, but I was more quiet than normal.
We had all the time in the world for discussion. The day would come when Vivien might wish she’d never offered her help, and I wouldn’t blame her if she did.
“I can imagine,” I offered back. “Any ideas?”
My question was almost comical. I knew exactly what needed to be done, where I needed to go, and whom I needed to befriend. Everything I required to begin this new journey was locked away inside my head, but the Fates’ conditions demanded I not use them.
I was to go the long way around.
“I have a few magical spells we can try. Should those fail, we can pay a visit to an acquaintance of mine. In all my days, I’ve never seen a problem she wasn’t able to solve.”
Until me, I wanted to add, but didn’t.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to simply pursue immortality? Prolong my life until the magic Elynor sent forward finds its owner?” I couldn’t keep myself from bringing up the subject. Honoring the blood oath required I live long enough to reach Darcy, not in trinkets, charms, or herb spells.
Damn the Fates for dropping me here.
Vivien looked shocked that I’d even mentioned the notion. Her face appeared ashen, even under the yellow glow of the lanterns brightening the front lawn.
“And damn your soul, Devlin? I don’t believe that’s what Elynor meant when she had you swear the oath.” She shook her head hard as if it would somehow negate my comments. “No, there will most definitely be a less drastic path than that. We don’t know how far into the future the magic landed. For all we know, we’ll see it appear in our lifetime.”
My suggestion still rattled Vivien and her brows remained furrowed. I imagined her mind was working overtime, filtering through the wealth of magic and power she’d accumulated, desperate to uncover the different probabilities and possibilities. Her fingers fidgeted on the shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She was nervous, and rightly so. It wouldn’t be long before she’d agree her Book of Shadows was no match for the oath.
“Let’s try what you have first,” I hurried and bounced lightly on my toes. There was definitely a chill creeping in. “Shall we start tomorrow morning?”
She let out a determined breath, her brow smoothed, and she nodded. “Tomorrow.”
As I watched her depart, I gazed upward, catching a shooting star as it arced across the sky.
“And so the madness begins.”
CHAPTER NINE
I hadn't known true frustration until I was forced to relive each futile attempt at honoring the blood oath. I wasn't sure what was worse—knowing that each spell and incantation Vivian offered as a possible solution was doomed to fail or that fact that, as each day passed, it was becoming harder and harder to bite my tongue and remain silent.
We’d been locked away in her study for over a month now and even the witch was beginning to lose her patience.
Puffing at the stray strand of hair that kept slipping across her vision, there was a touch of annoyance in her tone when, once again, her spell didn't yield the expected results.
“Damn it!” Vivien cursed, banging her fists down on the table as she glared at her book of shadows. “There has to be something in here that can help us.”
Her tabby cat jumped up beside her, its tail swishing back and forth as if it was trying to comfort its mistress.
I lay reclined in the same place and position I’d been for the past few weeks—stretched out on her chaise lounge, praying that somehow time could speed up.
We were getting nowhere because the answer didn't lie in this room or in any of the magic Vivien had at her disposal. No one in her coven, my sister’s coven, wielded enough power to do the impossible.
Well, impossible for those not wanting to taint their souls with darkness. There were a few moments when I believed Vivien was about to suggest it—my quiet desperation tugging relentlessly at her. She was just like me . . . it rankled to admit defeat.
For what seemed like the millionth time, I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from screaming.
The Fates wanted me to suffer in this task, and I hadn’t even reached the moment I suspected they intended. This felt like sheer torture because it was merely the precursor. My nerves churned within me, my mind hopping forward to buried memories. It was enough to drive me mad.
“Maybe it’s time you consulted your peers,” I encouraged, trying not to utter the name Vivien would eventually mention. “If you’ve exhausted every possibility now, why continue banging your head against the proverbial brick wall?”
She cast a curious glance my way—perhaps because I’d, yet again, used a term she wasn’t quite familiar with. In the beginning, I’d agonized over making sure the words I used matched the time period. All that accomplished was ratcheting my anxiety through the roof. In the end, I abandoned the intention because I had enough to worry about without constantly guarding my words.
Should worse come to worst, the Fates would intervene and chastise me—at best warn me. With everything else beyond my control, I found it a comforting slice of rebellion.
“I just need more time, Devlin. It feels as though the solution is there . . . out of reach. I’m positive I’ll see the answer more clearly if I consult with my guides.”
Time.
It was something I didn’t have much of.
I did the best I could to disguise my frustration, but there was no disguising the weariness in my sigh. “Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for your help, Vivien. I know you’re searching through your vast library, leaving no stone unturned. I just . . .” A sudden zing of awareness pulsed through me, a warning to tread carefully. “Wouldn’t two sets of magical eyes be better than one?”
This entire process reminded me of dancing. For every few steps we took forward, it required a couple steps backward in return. The only problem was I had two left feet and little tolerance for wasting time.
It was Vivien’s turn to chew on her lip as she pondered my proposal. “I could bring in another coven member. Maybe—” Her eyes wandered over to her heavily-laden bookshelves, her gaze narrowing as she read the titles. “Maybe I need to go through those volumes again. Maybe I missed something.” Her words trailed off. She looked haggard from endless hours pouring over each text, sometimes ending one book only to start back at the beginning.
Instead of approaching the shelves, however, Vivien collapsed into the nearby chair. Tears filled her eyes and silently spilled over her cheeks.
“Lord, Devlin, I’m tired.”
In my haste to conquer the Fates conditions, I’d forgotten the woman before me had just lost one of her closest friends and confidantes. Elynor always viewed Vivien as a second mother—a valued and cherished mentor. I’d witnessed the way they were together and believed the feelings were mutual.
Vivien was grieving, but instead of mourning the loss of my sister, she’d plunged straight into assisting me without a second thought for her own needs.
I was an asshole for being insensitive to that. I was so caught up in my own impatience for this to be over I’d disrespected the witch.
“When is the last time you ate something, Vivien? Or slept?” I gently asked. Now that I came to think of it, I couldn’t recall the last time I saw food anywhere near her. I’d simply assumed she’d taken care of her bodily needs when I returned home.
Now, I wasn’t
quite sure.
Vivien casually waved her hand in the air as if to dismiss the question. “I don’t know . . . earlier.”
“When?” I pressed.
Her brow crinkled in concentration. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “I remember Laurel brought me some hot broth and freshly made bread.”
I was definitely an asshole. “Vivien, that was days ago. You need to eat . . . now.” Brooking no refusal, I stood and made my way across the room to where she was sat and extended my hand. “This can all wait. Let’s go see if we can find you some food.” And with that, I pulled her up and gestured for her to lead the way. When she took a breath to argue, I shook my head briskly. “You’re of no help if you collapse from lack of nourishment and exhaustion.”
She must’ve seen the wisdom in my comment because she opened the door and I followed her into the kitchen.
“I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel this overwhelming sense of urgency over your oath. It’s like . . .” Vivien paused as she gathered the ingredients for a light meal. Someone had come and left her some fruits, meats, and cheeses. Slicing off thick pieces of ham, she dished them onto plates. “I don’t know . . . like there’s something powerful happening . . . important. There’s an insistent prodding in my mind, constantly niggling, telling me I dare not rest until I’ve solved the puzzle. Nothing else matters except finding a way for you to honor Elynor’s request.” Her voice cracked when she said my sister’s name.
God, how I wanted to confess everything to her. Without even knowing it, she’d tapped into the bigger picture and it was confusing her. She felt driven by the same forces I was, only she remained in the dark.
“Vivien,” I began, throwing all caution to the wind. “There’s something I need to tell you.” I reached out for a piece of bread, pulling it apart in my hands. I wasn’t really hungry, more like looking for a way to find the right words.
“Yes?” she answered, placing the knife down beside her.
I had no opportunity to speak further. Not because I didn’t know what to say, but because Atropos had shimmered into the room, visible only to me. There was a thunderous expression on her face and she glared hard at me. This was one of those lines I was forbidden to cross.
Blood Oath (#8, the Mystic Wolves) Page 6