by T. M. Cromer
“No one blames you.” Alastair ushered his younger brother from the room and closed the door behind them. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me. If I’d never come back, you’d all be one big happy family.”
“No.”
He looked up sharply at Preston’s vehement denial.
“We were never a happy family. You were always the ghost in our home, Al.” Preston rubbed the spot between his brows. “I could never eradicate the sorrow lurking in Aurora’s eyes. The only time she’d truly smile was over the girls’ outlandish behavior. It was always you, brother. She was biding time with me until she could join you, one way or the other.”
They stood in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
“If you had never have come back, Summer and Holly would never have existed,” a soft voice added.
Alastair turned to the newcomer. “GiGi.” He opened his arms to his sister, and she surprised him by running into his embrace.
“Don’t wish them away,” she whispered.
“Never.” He swallowed back all the words he longed to say. The apologies he wished to offer her for whatever small part he had played in her breakup with her husband Ryker. But he suspected she understood, and apologies came hard for Alastair. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting?” They had all kept insane hours in their quest to find Spring. He pushed the others to sleep at every turn.
“I wanted to check on Knox.” She held up a vial of pink liquid. “A sleeping potion.”
“Seems we all had the same idea,” Preston laughed. “I found Al lingering in the hall.”
“What can I say? Even I can’t stand to see the poor bastard so tortured,” Alastair chuckled. “Give the potion to our brother here. It’s time he got some rest too.”
“No, I—”
He lifted a hand to stem the argument. “Pres, please. You’re no good to Spring or anyone if you’re dead on your feet.”
With a wry smile, Preston took the vial from their sister and downed the shot. “I’ll bid you goodnight.” In a blink, he was gone.
“How about you, Al?” GiGi asked.
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “I’ve made up Morty’s old playroom with a bed. Go take a nap. No one likes a cranky Alastair Thorne.”
He grinned, and she laughed. With a kiss to her smooth forehead, he teleported to the attic.
GiGi made sure the house was quiet before she stepped onto the front porch. She curled one foot under her and sat on the wooden swing suspended from the overhang. With her other foot, she set the swing in motion.
A jolt to the smooth back-and-forth rhythm indicated a second presence.
“Ryker.”
“I got your message. What’s happening?”
“Zhu Lin abducted Spring. She’s been gone over a week, and we’ve heard nothing.”
Her estranged husband swore a blue streak. “Why did you wait until now to tell me this?”
She shrugged but didn’t face him. His angry stare burned through her, but she was unable to look directly at him without feeling the stab of betrayal in her heart. “I know you still have contacts in Lin’s camp. Will you help us?”
“What the hell kind of question is that? She’s my niece, too.” He sighed and stood. “Whatever else you think of me, however much you hate me, know that I will always be there for my family.”
“I don’t hate you.” But she should’ve saved her breath because her words were wasted. He’d already gone.
The phone in her hand buzzed. The text from Ryker read, “I’ll have something for you by morning.”
She didn’t bother to respond. He never cared for her feelings anyway.
13
By now you aren’t surprised by the omission of this chapter. But better to be safe than sorry, wouldn’t you say? Have you preordered Rekindled Magic yet or explored The Thorne Witches shop?
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14
Ten days plus, gone. Spring had kept count for the first ten days of her captivity. After that, she’d stopped. Keeping track of the passing time only led to heartache and disappointment. Now, with no idea how much time had passed, she went about her daily routine; she ate what she was given, showered when she was told, and paced her gilded cage.
She ignored the opulent setting around her. While Don Carlos would settle for nothing but the best for his latest plaything, she still preferred to regard her surroundings as the prison it was. After all, she was never allowed to set foot outside the twenty by thirty room. The marigold colored walls made her want to scream. The bright, cheerful color was at direct odds with her constant black thoughts.
She stepped to the vanity where a small metal box taunted her. The only out-of-place item on her dresser. It was aluminum and dented from her fist, where everything else on the smooth marble surface was new and shiny or bejeweled. Yesterday, she swore to herself that she wouldn’t use the contents for a crutch. But her body’s withdrawal mocked her attempts to stay clean. When she lifted the lid, tears filled her soul. On the outside she remained cold and hard.
With a quick glance at the camera in the upper corner of the room, she tied the rubber tube about her arm. She tapped her abused vein, and injected the measured out heroin that Don Carlos had left for her that morning. In precisely six hours, he’d leave another small dose.
Between her clunky power-stealing shackles and the four-times-daily shots of heroin, he was able to maintain control. The oblivion Spring found made tolerable the tortures he’d devised for each day.
Just once, she wished he’d leave a full syringe so she could end it all, but she knew he never would. He loved the thrill of domination. Loved the ability to mar her perfect skin with a lash, a sharp blade, or the searing-hot cigar tip, only to have her body magically heal so he might start the process again. That was to say nothing about the sexual violations of her body after he’d mentally and physically abused her. Her mind shied away from what had become a daily occurrence.
No, Spring welcomed the mind-numbing drug. She only wished for more of it.
As she lay on the bed under the grunting, disgusting pig of a man known as Don Carlos Esteban, she worked to forget her old life. She never thought of her sisters or their shared laughter. She never recalled Knox’s breathtakingly handsome face. And she never, ever dreamed of rescue. It wasn’t going to happen because no one knew where she was.
In blocking her ability to escape, Lin had layered the magic thick enough to prevent her discovery. No amount of scrying or location spells, no matter how powerful the witch wielding them, would find her. He’d made that clear early on.
She didn’t even have a Jolly Olly to spy for Uncle Alastair like he’d done for Autumn and Winter. Ryker had blown his cover in saving Winnie. No one in the enemy camp had Spring’s best interests at heart.
A sharp slap brought her back to the moment. “Moan, bitch. You need to moan for me. Tell me how much you like my big cock in you, puta.”
Spring choked back her defiance. There was no place for it here. Defiance brought more pain. So, like the good little whore she’d become, she pretended to enjoy Don Carlos’s groping, all the while swallowing down the bile that threatened to spew.
“Hello, Macy girl,” Knox murmured with a stroke of the mare’s neck. “How are you today, sweet baby?”
Macy tossed her head, delivering a spray of glitter in the air.
“I see Chloe has been changing up the color of your cone again.” He gave a half-hearted smile as he filled her feed bucket. “Let her know to utilize a bit of magic so the whole stall isn’t filled with glitter, okay?”
With the spray of glitter he had hoped to avoid, the mare nodded her head as if she understood exactly what he was saying—which she did. He was able to communicate with the animals as easily as Chloe and Summer, although from old habit, he never made his abilities known. The mental image Macy pus
hed his way showed the loving attention young Chloe piled upon her.
“You’re a lucky lady to be so loved, Macy.”
A caw from the rafters caught his attention, and he closed his eyes against the wave of pain that always came when it was time to feed Spring’s familiar. “Good morning, Mr. Black.” There was no need to inform the raven that Spring had yet to be found. The molting feathers and droop of the bird’s head indicated he suffered from lack of connection to his mistress.
For the millionth time in the four months since Spring’s disappearance, he wondered if she was alive. Ryker’s contact had no information other than to say Spring had been sold into a sex-trafficking ring run by Don Carlos Esteban.
Sweet, innocent Spring in the hands of monsters. The thought gutted him.
The Thornes, Gillespies, and Carlyles had teamed up to go into all Esteban’s homes and haunts with magical guns blazing. They’d turned up nothing. Other than to disrupt Don Carlos’s business on every occasion, there was no satisfaction to be found. Not even Don Carlos Esteban himself. The man had gone into hiding after the first attack on his Cartagena home.
Lin had never made any demands, which had amazed no one more than Alastair. But Knox wasn’t surprised. No, Zhu Lin struck the heart of the Thorne family when he took Spring and sentenced her to hell. That wily bastard knew they would eventually either fight amongst themselves or implode. Either way, Lin won.
As for himself, Knox had become little better than a wild animal. When he wasn’t tearing apart the jungles of Colombia looking for Spring, he was shoveling shit from stalls or clinging to a pink, mint-scented pillow, drunk out of his mind. No one dared speak to him if they didn’t have a lead on Spring’s whereabouts.
“The Stones.”
A sudden cold permeated the barn, chilling him. He lifted his head and searched for the female who uttered the words. “Who’s there?” he called.
“The Stones hold the key.” Another blast of freezing air caused him to shiver.
His mouth dried up. Could it be that Isis had given him the helping hand he’d been praying for? “What do I do?”
“Alastair will know.”
Of course he will. Alastair knew everything except how to find Spring. Knox scowled, stripped off his work gloves, and jerked his phone from his back pocket.
“Thorne.”
“I either have a ghost in my barn, or a goddess is trying to tell me something.”
“I’ll be right there.”
The phone disconnected, and within sixty seconds, Alastair strolled through the large sliding doors down the main aisle. “What happened?”
“The air turned frosty and an invisible female told me that the stones hold the key. She also mentioned you would know what to do.”
“The Stones? In the clearing?”
“I assumed those were the ones. I don’t know of any others.”
Alastair opened his mouth to speak but slammed it shut when he got a load of Macy’s cone. After a long pause, he asked, “What the blazes is on that horse’s head?”
“She likes it. It makes her feel special.”
“Fair enough.” With a nod to the rafters, Alastair asked, “Is that Spring’s raven?”
“Yes.”
“Finish up here. Then bring the bird to your attic. Mr. Black needs a magical boost if he is going to help us.”
“The bird is going to help us?”
“Do you know anything about familiars, son?”
“Other than they can boost a witch’s power?”
“A familiar has a direct connect to its witch. Based on the condition of that raven, I’d say Spring is still alive but worse for wear.”
Why hadn’t Knox thought of that? He turned his attention to Mr. Black. “Come.”
The raven swooped down and landed on his extended forearm. Once it had climbed onto his shoulder, it rubbed the top of its head along his jawline in a rare show of affection.
“You’ve been trying to tell me, haven’t you?” he murmured to the bird. A second, long caw trumpeted the raven’s agreement. “I’m sorry. I was too wrapped up in my own misery to pay attention.”
Fifteen minutes later, he was ensconced in a chair, searching the Carlyle grimoire while Preston sat across from him, thumbing through the Thorne spell book. Alastair stood at the attic window and studied the clearing between the two properties. Mr. Black took up position on his shoulder and stared at the glen as if he, too, were searching for something.
“I’m not sure what the hell I’m looking for,” Knox grumbled.
“Do you know, Spring has the Thorne grimoire memorized? Front to back in all its various languages.”
Alastair conversational tone set Knox off. Slamming the book shut, Knox tossed it onto the chair he’d just vacated. “And that helps me how?” he snapped. “She’s not here to pull a fucking spell out of thin air, is she?”
A small smile played around Alastair’s mouth. “No, but you just reminded me we have the next best thing.” In seconds, he had his phone in hand and snapped a picture of the attic room. After a few taps of the keys, he said, “Stay where you are. My son will be here shortly.”
Within seconds, the air thickened and shifted as Nash Thorne stepped through a rift in the center of the room. His jade eyes, so like Spring’s in color and shape that it hurt to look at him, took in all the occupants of the room then settled on Alastair. “Sperm Donor. You sent for me?”
“We want to draw on the magic of the Stones to find your cousin. Like Spring, you have all the spell books in your possession memorized. I need to know how to boost the signal to cut through a Blocker’s magic.”
Nash shook his head. “I have a Snowflake Obsidian stone that might amplify a spell, but I believe the Stones in the clearing would do that without any trouble. We would need to call them up, but as always, if you draw from their power, you need something to offer the Goddess in return.” He strode to his father’s side and lifted the raven to examine it. “He’s sick. Man-made. A reflection of Spring is my guess.” Nash ducked his head and turned toward the light from the window to study the bird closer. “What can you tell me, bird?”
A hoarse caw was emitted from Mr. Black.
“I think she’s being drugged. It’s the only reason, other than death, for the lack of connection to her familiar,” Preston said.
“I agree.” Nash nodded absently as he handed the raven back to his father. “If he’s willing, we could use him as the amplifier along with the Stones. With at least seven of our most powerful, Mr. Black, the magic from Isis, and a spell from the book of Carlyle, we should be able to pull this off.” He hefted the tome, opened it to the back, and flipped a few pages. “We’re going to need a body of water, and someone to channel Spring.”
Knox’s response was automatic. “I’ll do it.”
“Actually, I feel like it should be me or Alastair,” Nash replied. “Her emotional attachment isn’t as strong to us, and she’d be less likely to reject us if she’s…”
“If she what?” Knox demanded “Why the hell would she reject me at all. She loves me.”
“If she’s sick or worse, she may not want you to see her in that condition.”
“I don’t give a damn. If we can break through the blockers, I’m teleporting in and getting her the hell out of there.”
Nash opened his mouth to argue, but Preston cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Of course you’ll go, Knox. It should be you.”
Alastair nodded. “I agree with my brother. The rest of us will work the spell.”
15
In addition to himself, Nash utilized the magic of Summer, Autumn, Winnie, Cooper, Alastair, and Preston. GiGi was hard at work, creating potions to help whatever condition Spring might be in when she returned. Keaton and Zane maintained a short distance from the stones in the event they were needed in a pinch.
“Summer, I’d like you to create a shallow pool for Knox to lie down in, please,” Nash instructed, never lifting his head from the
thick book he was consulting.
Preston positioned the group in a circle, but stopped and faced Alastair when Autumn asked the loaded question, “What do we have to offer in exchange?”
Knox didn’t hesitate. “Whatever it is, I’ll find a way to pay it. Let’s just get Spring back.”
A blinding light lit the clearing. The group as a whole lifted their hands to shield their faces. When the light had vanished, a woman stood in the center of their circle. She wore a white, off-the-shoulder dress belted by a gold rope chain that shimmered with each breath she took. Long dark hair fell in waves down her back. Her exotic, kohl-lined amber eyes scanned the group and settled on Knox.
Isis glided to where he waited. “You are brave to offer up a boon without knowing that which I ask, dear child.”
“Spring’s life is worth any price.”
“I’m happy to hear you believe so. What I require is the Book of Thoth. In return, I will grant you the ability to locate your beloved.”
Didn’t it figure she’d come up with something he’d never heard of, much less knew how to locate? There was no time for a damned scavenger hunt, not with Spring’s life in jeopardy. “How does one go about finding this Book of Thoth?”
Her light, musical laughter rang out around the clearing. “It’s no great journey. One of your own possesses the book.” Isis focused her attention on Nash. “Is that not so, son of Alastair?”
“I might be able to come up with it,” Nash offered.
“Then we have an accord?” she asked, confident her request would be satisfied.
“We do,” Alastair cut in. “But we need Spring’s location and the ability to teleport through the Blockers, Exalted One.”
Isis laughed and swished her way to stand in front of him. “If I give you an inch, you’ll take a mile.”
His grin was pure wicked delight, and the low bow a shade mocking. “Ah, but you would expect no less.”