by T. M. Cromer
Serqet stepped in front of Isis’s line of sight. “I want your word you will not interfere.”
“I will not interfere in his death.”
“Good.”
“What brings you to my temple, sister?”
Isis stepped into the light and approached her sister, Nephthys, as she lounged during her repast. Where Isis was curvy, Nephthys was willowy, almost ethereal. She wore her mass of loose, black curls piled high upon the crown of her head, letting it partially cascade down her back. Nephthys favored shades of pale coral to give her skin an added glow. Her kohl-lined eyes were the turquoise color of the Caribbean Sea.
As Isis watched, her sister popped a succulent sweet into her mouth. “Gods, I love chocolate!”
Isis chuckled before she turned serious. “I have a favor to ask, sister.”
Nephthys rose from her chaise and hugged her. “Didn’t I already grant you a great boon when I allowed you to revive your Thorne Witches at will?”
“You did. But this I ask on your behalf. The Carlyles are your descendants. I have news that Serqet plans to take misguided revenge against Knox Carlyle. I ask that you stop her.”
“What did he do to upset her?”
“Nothing. She’s upset with one of mine: Spring Thorne.”
“The one you recently revived?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me all.”
Isis relayed the generations-long fight between the Désorcelers and the Thornes. She explained how Serqet had created the Désorcelers after her powers had been stripped by Ra. “Their sole purpose is to destroy my family, and now by extension, yours and Set’s.”
“Show me.”
With a nod of deference, Isis glided toward the life-size mirror across from the chaise. A simple swipe of her hand over the surface replayed Serqet’s machinations throughout time. “She has schemed and lied to get what she wants. More recently, there was this.” Isis fast-forwarded the playback to the day Spring was taken. She allowed the reel of events to continue without interruption until today. “As you can see, Zhu Lin’s demise was, without question, justified.”
Nephthys nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll allow her to take revenge and kill him.”
“Sister, you cannot!” The crafty smile on Nephthys face stopped Isis from any further protest. “What is your plan?”
“I’m ruler of death, sister. I have the power to restore life. After she is finished, I will gift him life.”
“When? When will you gift him life?”
“After a century or two, when our sister has had a chance to calm down.”
Isis stalked to where Nephthys had settled back on her chaise. “You want Knox for your consort!” she charged. “Carlyles and Thornes only love once. If you take him, you will sentence him to a life of misery. Just as you would sentence Spring to that same misery!” When her sister’s brow rose in challenge, Isis reined in her temper and sighed. “Of course you will do what you must, but I ask you to remember, they have both been through enough pain for three lifetimes. I beg you, sister, have mercy on their souls.”
“I would have a favor of you, then.”
“What?”
“The one you call Alastair. I want him for my consort.”
“He is not mine to give. I allow all my children choices.”
“Ah, but you’ve asked him to join you, no?”
“I have.”
“And you favor him above all others.”
It wasn’t a question, but Isis nodded anyway. “I favor him,” she lied. Her true favorite remained locked in her heart, hidden from the world. Alastair could take care of himself so she need not worry if others targeted him for being the one she favored.
“Why?”
“He’s clever and amuses me. His humor and fighting spirit are rivaled by none.”
“He has denied you your fondest wish, and yet you still grant him boons. Why?”
“Love is unconditional, sister. You should know that. The affection I hold for him is not sexual in nature. I love him for who he is. As such, I wish him to rule by my side.”
“I see.” Nephthys sighed and contemplated the tray of chocolates before her. “Then I shall grant your request on the basis of unconditional love.”
Tears stung Isis’s eyes and gratitude filled her. It had been a long while since there had been any closeness between any of the siblings. Their history had played a part in their separation. But the olive branch Nephthys extended warmed Isis’s soul. “Thank you, my beloved sister.”
“Come, break your fast with me. There is time enough to save the Carlyle man.”
24
“I honestly don’t know how to spin this.” Coop paced the confines of his office. As town sheriff, he saw things in black or white, depending on the letter of the law. More recently, he found himself in the gray area. Currently, he referred to yesterday’s incident with Knox’s mother.
Knox was profoundly grateful Coop hadn’t locked him up on the spot. He understood better than anyone the position he’d thrown his cousin into. There was a dead body on the Thorne estate. That body happened to belong to Marianne Carlyle, the sheriff’s aunt. Rules dictated he investigate the murder, but since Coop had discovered he had latent powers, the standard rules didn’t apply to their family anymore. But more importantly, she couldn’t be buried in the family plot without some type of explanation. Not that Knox was bothered if she wasn’t. They could teleport her body to a swamp in Florida for the alligators to eat for all he cared.
“What about a lightning strike?” All heads turned toward Spring who, until now, had let Knox handle the explanations. She shrugged. “That’s essentially what it was. Knox fried her ass.”
Because the odd desire to laugh overcame him, the man in question ducked his chin and rubbed the center of his forehead. If he didn’t hide his humor, he’d come across as an unfeeling bastard. While Knox had stopped caring about his mother as a person a long time ago, he didn’t want to seem as if he’d intentionally set out to kill her.
“And how do we explain a lightning strike in the middle of the woods on a perfectly clear day?” Coop snapped.
Knox lifted his head and stared his cousin down. Coop heeded the warning and apologized for his nasty attitude.
“You don’t need to explain it,” Spring stated in a calm, prim tone. “We’re witches.”
Without needing to be told, Knox could see the general consensus of the room was that Spring was a few flowers shy of a full bouquet. By the amused gleam in Alastair’s eye, Knox suspected her uncle knew where she was going, but he wanted to see if everyone else grasped what she was saying.
She sighed her frustration. “We’re witches,” she stressed. When the room remained clueless, she threw up her hands. “Hel-lo! We can conjure the weather.”
A slow, appreciative smile curled Coop’s lips. “Brilliant.”
“Of course.” Zane smacked himself in the forehead and faced Winnie. “Ready to conjure some storm clouds, babe?”
Winnie winked at her youngest sister. “I can do that.” She sent an inquiring glance to the room at large. “Who wants to conjure the rain? Summer? Uncle Alastair?”
Summer rose to her feet. “I’ll do it. I’m sure Dad needs to get back and check on Mom.”
“I have someone caring for her. She’ll be fine for a little longer.” Alastair straightened from where he lounged against the corner of Coop’s desk. “I’ll assist Knox in creating enough lightning strikes to make the storm look believable.” He straightened his tie and gazed down at Spring from his imposing height. “Well, done, child. You may not remember, but you’re a Thorne through and through.”
“I’ll accept that as high praise coming from you, Uncle.” She gracefully gained her feet. “What happened to Lin’s little army?”
Knox shared a look with the men in the room. “We dropped them off in the woods by the monastery. With any luck, they’ll freeze.”
“What monastery?” Spring glanced around in confusion.<
br />
Autumn stepped in with the explanation. “It’s in the Himalayan mountains. Keaton and I went there to retrieve one of the artifacts to save Mother. It’s where we first met Zhu Lin.”
Spring nodded thoughtfully and hung back as the rest of the family filed out the door.
“Are you okay?” Knox wasn’t sure what she was thinking or feeling when she went into her quiet, contemplative mode. Her face would maintain a detached air as she studied the people around her. Prior to the loss of her memory, Spring never had that type of expression. She had always been bright, laughing, and curious.
“I’m good.” She graced him with a warm smile. “I was wondering if we managed to get the artifact you and I went after.”
“No. I don’t know if Don Carlos ever had it or if Lin ever received it, but I suspect that Thor’s Hammer is lost to us.”
She frowned and rubbed a spot under her shirt. “Thor’s Hammer? What is that?”
“It’s a Mjölnir amulet said to have healing powers. It contains a stone from Odin’s ring and was blessed by Thor himself.”
“What does it look like?” Spring laid her palm flat against her chest.
“It’s rustic really. Some runes carved into metal that resembles an old war hammer. It would have Odin’s stone gracing the handle.”
Slowly, she drew a necklace from beneath her blouse. “Like this?”
“Jesus, Spring! Where did you find that?” How had she come to possess the necklace? When they’d found her in Cartagena, she’d been only dressed in the gown and… his mind shied away from her death scene. But none of them had taken the time to search the wreckage of her gilded prison.
“I had a dream last night. A goddess named Nephthys came to me and told me to never take it off.” She glanced down at the amulet. “Or at least I thought it had been a dream until I woke wearing this.” She frowned again. “No wait, that’s not what she said. Her exact words were ‘Keep this on you at all times. The day will soon come when you will need its power.’”
A warning of that magnitude from a goddess bordered on terrifying. “She didn’t say why?”
“No.”
He lifted the amulet and studied it a moment. Rudimentary craftsmanship for such a powerful piece. Carefully, he tucked it underneath her clothing. “Don’t let anyone know you have this for now.”
“I can do that.” She squeezed his hand. “Let’s go create a storm.”
Later that evening, members of both families gathered around the dining table at the Thorne estate. Winnie had insisted on cooking for everyone, and there wasn’t an unappreciative person in the lot. Wine and laughter flowed around the table as if no one had a care in the world. Yet, Spring couldn’t shake the little niggling sense of unease. Yes, Lin was dead. That was one enemy off their plate, but were more milling about, waiting for their chance to take on the Thornes and Carlyles? It seemed naive to think there weren’t. Both families had been around for centuries.
Spring touched the amulet beneath her shirt. She’d read the name Nephthys in the family grimoire, but other than being listed as sister to Isis, that particular goddess had never played into the Thorne family’s history. That she’d appear now was curious at best and, at worst, disconcerting.
Before dinner, Spring had done a little more research on the goddess. Wikipedia hadn’t turned up much other than Nephthys was known to protect the souls of the dead. How any of this would play out was anyone’s guess. She was certainly clueless.
Twice she caught Knox observing her. Although he didn’t say a word, his furrowed brow indicated his concern. Other than to cast him a reassuring smile or two, she was at a loss as to how to ease his worry. She was worried enough for the two of them but refused to show it. Knox had been through enough today; he didn’t need an over-excited girlfriend on his hands.
Girlfriend. The thought brought her up short, and she couldn’t prevent the pleased smile curling her lips. Neither had defined whatever this thing was between them, but the love was alive and thriving.
As if he guessed her train of thought, Knox reached out to her and curled his pinky with hers. They sat that way through the rest of dinner and dessert. Their connection strong and unbreakable. In the sea of uncertainty where Spring lived, Knox was her anchor. And she was his.
“I propose a toast.”
The group faced Autumn where she stood at the head of the dinner table. The dark purple grape juice in her glass was in deference to her protruding belly. “To our brainy, badass sister. Spring, thank you for ridding the world of Lin. The death of that evil asshat was long overdue.”
A few echoed her sentiment with “Hear, hear!”
Spring basked in their praise, once again feeling as if she was part of this family she didn’t remember. Tears threatened and her fingers tightened over Knox’s. He lifted her hand to drop a kiss on her knuckles, and she became lost in his proud gaze.
“You really were a badass.”
“I was, wasn’t I?”
“For a minute, you had me worried you might really hate me.”
“Am I so different from who I used to be?” It bothered her to think she might be. While she wanted to be closer as a family unit, maybe those around her viewed her as an interloper, a false Spring. Her attention turned to the quick-witted interactions between her siblings and their spouses. They were a solid unit. Each knew they could tease the other and get the expected reaction in return. But from her, they didn’t know what they’d get. The exclusion gave her a deep sense of loneliness.
“You’re not.”
She whipped her head back around to face Knox.
“You’re not so different. I don’t think your personality was altered with your memories, sweetheart. You’re almost exactly the same.”
“Then why would you ever believe I’d hate you?”
He shook his head and looked for answers in the chocolate cake before him. It took Knox time to form the words he wanted to say, and Spring waited, watching him push the frosting around and instinctively knowing he’d speak from the heart.
When he finally did, his tone was low and somber. “I learned a long time ago the love doled out to me was conditional, whatever the source. How could I expect yours to be any different? I walked away and left you to your own devices, Spring. It cost you your life.”
She ached for him. The loneliness he must’ve suffered over the years had to have a detrimental effect on his psyche. “No. You went to find a way to get me out, if I’m not mistaken. The rest can’t be laid on your shoulders.” She gripped his knee. “Besides, you promised.”
“Promised?”
“That you wouldn’t blame yourself.”
“It might take me a little time to sort it out in my head.”
“We have time.”
Knox opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he would’ve said was lost when Summer slapped her hand on the table. “Why the long faces? We should be celebrating.”
“What do you suggest? Dancing?” Coop teased.
“Exactly that!” She glanced at her sisters. “Who’s up for a little bouncing around in Nashville?”
Spring leaned in close to Knox. “What’s bouncing around?”
Autumn’s wicked laughter rang out. “Little sister, we have so much left to teach you!”
“Going to bars. Doing some dancing and drinking,” Knox answered her. “It’s been a long day. Are you up for it?”
Spring looked into the sparkling eyes of her sisters and then at the more laid-back expressions of their significant others. It seemed the men were inclined to indulge the women in whatever they wanted to do.
“Yes. I believe I am.”
A cheer went up, and Autumn grabbed her by her hand. “Come on, let’s figure out what to wear.” With a stern look at Keaton, she said, “Make sure your mom is okay to watch Chloe before we just take off.” She fixed a stern eye on Zane and Coop. “You two are on clean-up duty.”
“What about me?” Knox shot her an engaging grin.
<
br /> “You’re fine the way you are, good looking.”
“He gets out of more work that way.” Coop lobbed a spoonful of potatoes at Knox’s head.
Spring gasped and tried to choke off her horrified laughter as the mashed potatoes dripped down Knox’s face and landed in a soft plop on his slacks.
“Oh, shit.” She thought maybe it was Winnie who swore.
“If you boys are going to have a food fight, your asses better be cleaning up the mess when you’re done. Keep in mind those chairs in the corner are late seventeenth-century—ohmygod!” Autumn’s speech was abruptly cut off.
Spring sat frozen to the spot as Autumn wiped off a blob of potatoes from her forehead. Her older sister turned a violent shade of red, and Spring couldn’t be sure, but she thought maybe steam had escaped from her sister’s ears.
Knox proved he was smarter and faster than everyone else by scooping Spring up and teleporting to her bedroom. “You don’t want to be there for the bloodbath. Autumn will kill Coop, Summer will kill Autumn, and then Keaton will be forced to avenge her. The whole family is about to become unraveled.” He flicked a finger down the remaining potatoes on his face and licked his finger. “Damn, your sister can cook. I hope Winnie makes it through the war.”
Laughter bubbled up inside her, and Spring was certain this was the first real joy she experienced since waking. “Do they do this often?”
“Often enough.”
“And you’re smart enough to always make good your escape?”
“Someone needs to live to tell the tale.” He licked his finger again. “Do you think the secret ingredient is garlic? I’m certain I taste real butter.”
This playful, funny side of Knox appealed to her. Unashamedly, he stood there—all six-feet-one of pure brawn—hiding and cracking jokes.
“Some might think this is cowardly,” she taunted.
“Some might face the Carlyle wrath for questioning my bravery.” His hot eyes promised retribution of the slur against his manhood.
“Yet somehow, I’m not afraid.” And she wasn’t. The man she’d come to know in the short time since he’d shown up in her garden wasn’t the type of guy to hurt her. “But you’re welcome to do your worst.”