The Hound removes his hand.
Sophia sucks in a ragged breath. “No more. Please.” She manages to mouth the words.
The Hound snakes a long, spindly finger down her tear-stained cheek. “You are stronger than I originally thought.” Cupping her chin, he forces Sophia’s head back. His keen eyes study her.
Meurjôn shifts to the side. He repositions his arm. Tightening his hold, he draws Sophia closer to his frame, holding her up. “Did you get what you needed?”
“I always get what I seek, Master Meurjôn. That is why you pay me well, no?” His lips curl up into a wicked smile. “And what she knows will cost you dearly.”
“You’ll have your compensation.” A smug expression washes across Master Meurjon’s face. “And more if the information is of value.”
“Seems the fledgling has a secret.” The Hounds face is inches from Sophia’s. “She has ties to the traveler. She speaks to him outside of this realm.”
“Kenos.” Master Meurjôn speaks the word barely above a whisper.
“He remains nameless in her memories, her dreams. But yes, I am sure he is the one.”
The Hound opens the book. He grabs Sophia’s hand then presses her bloody palm against the exposed page.
“Speak the word witch and unlock the book.”
A surge of magic flows through Sophia, making her teeth chatter, again. Her mind clouds over. A single word enters her thoughts. It’s not a what—but a who. Wisdom is the name of the Book of Light and Shadows. It’s the given name of the book of spells. The spell book Sophia’s bound to by both the meaning of her birth name, Sophia—which means Wisdom—and the ancient blood flowing through her veins.
“Wisdom.” The word rolls off Sophia’s tongue with clarity.
Master Meurjôn releases her and grabs the book from the Hound. He thumbs through the pages, which are covered in glowing text.
Falling to her knees, Sophia bows her head. Words whisper in the recesses of her mind.
Clearing her throat, Sophia recites her first incantation of an ancient family spell. One that has been lost for more than two-hundred years but is now found with the opening of the Book of Light and Shadows—Wisdom.
“Goddess of wind and earth. Gods of fire and ice. Grant this heartfelt plea.
Spoken in a shroud of warm blood—are the words of my native tongue.
Nevermore through magic, dark or blood, shall their meaning be wrung.
From this day forth—Wisdom’s pages lay bare—empty to the greedy and vilest.
Only read by the purest of heart—whose soul shall grow then splinter in earnest.
Let the words I speak find their mark and justice be served. So mote it be!”
The air around Sophia swirls with colorful ribbons and the ground shakes beneath her. A blinding light shoots from the book, erasing the glowing words on each page.
The Hound’s eyes widen. He takes a step forward and grabs Sophia’s arm, yanking her to her feet. “You dare to cast a binding spell of blood magic among us—among me?”
“Sophia,” Aden’s voice booms.
Clawing at the hound’s hand, she fights to pry his fingers loose.
Aden runs up the stairs.
“Stop where you stand, gargouille.” Wrapping his fingers around her neck, the Hound lifts Sophia off the ground. “It would be a shame for her pretty, little neck to break.”
The Hound releases an arc of magic from the palm of his hand. A single stream of energy strikes Aden on the chest, sending him crashing into the brick wall.
“Don’t forget,” Meurjôn says. “I need them both alive.” He looks down at Aden’s motionless body. “And him, I just need him breathing.”
Sophia’s eyes water and her lungs burn, aching for air. Choking, tears stream down her cheeks. The Hound’s face fades in and out of view then Sophia’s world turns as black as the darkest night.
Chapter Eight
Aden Clarkson
SOMEONE IS CALLING SOPHIA’S NAME. The voice is faint, almost out of reach.
Aden’s eyes move under heavy lids. Taking a deep breath, he sucks air into his lungs, but it hurts to breath. Scanning the room, he spots Sophia lying on a bed. Looking down, he takes in the metal shackles encasing his wrists and ankles. He moves and the links of the chain rattle.
“Open your eyes, Sophia.” The Hound’s voice has a sing-song quality to it. “Look at me.”
Sophia's eyes spring open, and she peers wide-eyed up at the Hound.
“That’s it,” The Hound says. “Now try to focus.”
“Why can’t I move my hands?” Sophia’s voice is soft, faint.
“Because they’re bound.”
Looking around, Aden takes in his surroundings. The cream-colored walls are bare, and the room has an almost sterile feel to it. A dark haze etches his vision.
A second man enters the room and approaches Sophia.
“Where am I?” Sophia asks, “And who the hell are you?”
“Where we are is of no concern.” The man’s reply is pointed and void of emotion. “You will address me as Dr. Lawrence. Do you understand?”
She nods.
Dr. Lawrence asks, “Do you remember what happened?”
Tears erupt from the corners of her eyes. “Where’s Aden? What have you done with him?”
“I’m over here,” Aden replies, but his words sound odd, and his tongue feels thick.
“Your familiar is sedated and restrained.” Dr. Lawrence says.
“I want to see him.”
“All in good time.” Dr. Lawrence moves out of view. “And only if you give Master Meurjôn what he wants.”
Aden tips his to the side. He catches traces of the doctor’s thick frame. His blue-black hair reminds him of Scarlet.
“What are you?” Sophia’s voice cracks. “Are you part of the Doccioner clan?”
“What do you think?”
“Let’s see. Ribbons of black, yellow, brown, and red swirl around you. They twist together and snake through the air.” Sophia pauses. “You don’t look like the Hound, so I don’t think you’re of his clan. But you’re not Doccioner either, are you?”
“Your guess is correct. I’m not of the Doccioner or Barachiel clans.”
“Maybe not, but you’re part of the darkness, aren’t you?” She holds his cold, hard gaze. “But you’re not Wiccan, now, are you?”
His lips tug upward into a sheepish grin. “Tell me about Kenos. When did he first contact you?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Sophia shakes her head.
“The Hound extracted a memory of a conversation—to be more exact—he said it was a dream.”
“I’ve had many conversations in dreams. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Would you feel more cooperative if the others joined us?” Dr. Lawrence yanks Sophia’s head back, forcing her to look at him. “I’m sure the Hound or Monte would be more than happy to assist me. Which one should I call? Do you have a preference?”
Sophia bites down on her trembling lower lip then shakes head. Her eyes fill with tears.
“Then do as I say. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” She nods. “And what is it that you want?”
“It’s not what I want that matters. It’s what Master Meurjôn seeks that you should worry about.”
“And what’s that?”
“Your book of spells.” Dr. Lawrence pats the book. “He wants it unlocked, so he can harness and bend the streams of time.”
A surge of magic courses through Aden’s body. He’s not sure how she did it, but she transferred magic without direct contact.
Sophia asks, “And if I refuse?”
“Make no mistake, you will unlock the pages for him, or your familiar will die.” Dr. Lawrence points at Aden.
Narrowing his eyes, Aden takes in the doctor’s full frame. His black loafers turn inward. He’s pigeon-toed. The man is soft, overweight, and only a puppet.
“If he so much a
s touches another hair on Aden’s head, or any of my friends, for that matter, he’ll never see another word on the pages of Wisdom ever again. Of that, I promise.” Sparks of light dance on the tips of Sophia’s fingers. “And you can tell him I said that.”
“You will unlock the pages for him or else.” Dr. Lawrence approaches. He’s holding a silver-colored pen syringe in his hand.
The shackles around Aden’s wrists heat up, burning his flesh. He groans, grabs the chain between his hands then pulls. The cuffs spring open and fall to the floor. Drawing in a deep, cleansing breath, Aden stands. He makes it across the room before Dr. Lawrence can reach the door.
Grabbing hold of Dr. Lawrence, he slams him to the floor. Aden steps over the doctor’s motionless body and looks up at Sophia. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” She shakes her head.
Footsteps. His inner gargouille picks up the thud of footsteps not far away. Drawing in a deep breath, he takes in the smells around him. Gargoyles. There’re others here; he can smell them.
Aden looks around. There’s a set of French doors to his left. “We can’t stay here.” He unlatches the lock then opens the doors, which led out into the darkness. “Come here.” A gust of wind blows his hair.
Sophia rises. She picks up the Books of Light and Shadows then joins him by the window.
He pulls off his T-shirt. Holding her gaze, he releases his wings, which fan out around him. Aden wraps an arm around her waist and draws her against him.
“What are you doing?” She clutches the book to her chest.
The bedroom door flies open, and the Hound stands in the frame of the doorway.
Without saying a word, Aden lifts Sophia off the floor. He runs then leaps into the air. His wings open and he catches a wind draft. He twists his body and clears the railing of the balcony.
Tightening his hold on her, he keeps her body snug against his. The warmth of her skin offers a level of comfort that surprises him. Just knowing she’s safe in his arms gives him a peace of mind.
Earlier, when the shared dream ended, abruptly, he felt helpless with the distance between them. A distance his inner gargouille seeks to bridge—especially, now that they’re linked. He might be her familiar, but she belongs to him, and he intends to keep it that way.
Sophia wraps her legs around his waist and presses her face against his shoulder and chest. Aden freefalls halfway down the side of the building then opens his wings. Catching an updraft, he glides through the air. He glances over his shoulder, expecting to see gargoyles in chase, but the twilight sky is empty.
In the distance, he spots the glowing lights of the Hemisphere Tower and arch. As he draws closer to The Broadway, to his condominium, Sophia stirs in his arms. She glances over her shoulder.
“Where are you taking me?” Her warm breath blows against Aden’s chest.
“To my place.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Take me home.”
“Sophia. You’d be safer at my place.”
“Why because you’re there?” She takes a deep breath then sighs. “Look, I need some space, Aden. And I’m not going to get that in your apartment—you and I both know that.”
He glides past The Broadway. The door to the balcony on the north side of the building, his door, is still wide open. But on the tenth floor, it’s not as if anyone will be entering unannounced.
Sophia swallows hard. “I need time to think things through, so please, take me home.”
Aden knows that Cuen is keeping an eye on the bookstore. And if it hadn’t been for him, Sophia’s friends, the Thomas’, would have become casualties in the feud between the light and dark.
Now, with news of the Book of Light and Shadows in Sophia’s possession, the leaders of the light have gathered in the city. And when the dark side attacks, again, he and the others will be waiting for them. Plus, the text he received from Master Felix, earlier, indicated a warlock from the Druid’s High Order is in route. He’s due to arrive in the next couple of hours.
Aden lands in the alley behind the bookstore. He sets Sophia down on the concrete step in front of the back door.
She turns, grabs the knob, and then scrunches her nose. “I can’t get in.”
Reaching into his pocket, he fishes for his keys. He unlocks the door then keys in the numeric code to deactivate the alarm.
“Sophia.” Aden takes a step toward her.
“You need to go. Please.” She shakes her head. “I’m not ready to talk to you, not yet.”
Aden exhales a heavy sign. He turns and then walks outside, closing the door behind him. Now that he knows she’s fully protected by the council, he’ll give her some space, some time alone. But even that window of time is limited because a war is underway. Soon, she’ll have to make a choice between the light and the darkness. And right now, Aden’s not sure what side she’ll pick if and when her hand is forced.
Chapter Nine
Sophia Mahoney
THE INSIDE of the mortgage company is streamlined and feels sterile. Sitting on one of two leather chairs in front of the mortgage officer’s desk makes Sophia feel as if she’s in the principal’s office.
She places her hands on her bare knees then tugs at the hem of her skirt. Well, actually, it’s Tara’s skirt.
The officer’s hands slide over the keys of the keyboard in front of him. Each stroke sends a distinct clicking noise into the air. The name plate on the man’s desk reads Stanly Vern.
“Look, Mr. Vern,” Sophia says then clear her throat. “With the recent passing of my uncle, all I’m asking for is an extension, so I can take care of this issue. Please.”
“Miss Mahoney, the loan has been delinquent for some time. Even if I were able to grant an extension, the loan would still be accelerated. The full balance would still be payable. And right now, with your finances, I don’t see how you’ll be able to make the necessary arrangements—even with an extension.”
“Please, can you, at least, try? Can you escalate this issue, and take it to your manager? All I’m asking for is time to resolve my uncle’s estate.”
“I’ll try; however, it is not probable that it will be approved.”
Mr. Vern walks out of the room.
Travis places a hand on Sophia’s shoulder, and she jumps. “God, Travis.” She cradles her head in her hands. “What do I do if they say no?”
“If they say no, I’ll call my father just as he instructed.” Travis pulls Sophia’s hands away from her head. He tilts her chin back. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I can’t lose it.” Tears brim her eyes. “It’s all I have left of my uncle, my family.”
“I know that.” Travis pulls her into his arms.
The tapping sound of fast approaching footsteps drums on the floor. Sophia glances over her shoulder.
Mr. Vern comes into view. He’s with a woman wearing a gray suit, and they’re approaching fast. Mr. Vern’s eyebrows are raised, and his voice sounds nasally and high-pitched.
Sophia tries to listen to their conversation, but she can only make out bits and pieces of it. The tone of the woman’s voice doesn’t provide a clue as to what the final decision will be, which makes Sophia’s stomach twist into a tight knot.
“Miss Mahoney.” The woman’s heels clank on the tile. “My name is Gwen Sullivan. I’m the senior mortgage manager on site.”
Sophia rises and shakes Gwen Sullivan’s extended hand. “Hello.” She smiles weakly. Looking down, she sees a ring on the woman’s left finger. She’s married. “Mrs. Sullivan, an extension is all I’m asking for.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Mrs. Sullivan says tight-lipped.
Sophia sinks into the chair below her. Her body goes numb. Looking up at the mortgage manager, she fights back the tears threating to breach the threshold of her resolve. “Please, is there any paperwork I can file that will provide additional time?”
“Miss Mahoney, let me be clear,” Mrs. Sullivan says. “An extension isn’t necessary because the
balance has been paid in full.”
“When did that happen?” Travis asks. His eyebrows shoot up.
“As of this morning, the funds were wired over,” Mrs. Sullivan says. “The paperwork crossed my desk seven days ago. And was finalized today.”
“Wait.” Sophia white-knuckles the wooden arms of the chair. “So, someone paid off my uncle’s loan?”
“Yes. It would seem that way,” Mrs. Sullivan replies.
Sophia’s eyes widen. “Who? And how’s that going to impact the bookstore and me?”
“The payment was made by an organization that asked to remain a silent party.” Mrs. Sullivan closes a file then rises. “You’ll receive paperwork in the mail within the next two weeks.”
“What does that mean? Wait. Do they have a claim to the property now?”
“No. Miss Mahoney, from the documentation I have on file, once your uncle’s will is probated, the property is yours free and clear. But I urge you to start probate immediately to protect your interest in the property.” Mrs. Sullivan hands Travis a balance sheet. “This documentation reflects the loan has been paid off. I suggest you keep it in a safe place.”
Sophia rises. She and Travis exit the building. While waiting for a cab, she can’t help but wonder who paid off the loan and why. Was it Aden or someone else?
On the ride back to the bookstore, Sophia remains silent and listens to Travis talk to his father. As the cab pulls up in front of the bookstore, she sighs.
It’s been five days since she last saw Aden. However, he has called her cell and left several voice messages, as well as texts. Sophia opens the door and steps out of the vehicle. Every muscle in her body is tense. She walks up to the front door then head upstairs to change.
Sophia needs to think. She grabs the clothes she ran in yesterday then slips them on. God, I need a good run to sooth my nerves. She shakes her head and huffs because it’s almost five in the afternoon.
She’s more than sure that if she goes for a jog right now, Logan is going to show up. He’s been on the trail the last four days like clockwork.
When she comes down the stairs, Thor runs to the door, wagging his tail. Sophia grabs his leash, connects it to his collar then opens the door.
Beyond The Veil: A Paranormal & Magical Romance Boxed Set Page 220