Trial By Fire (Beyond The Veil Book 1)

by Cate Dean

  Detective Phillips led us out to the sidewalk and away from the school. “The kids were dropped off on the corner. Here.” He stopped, and pointed at a yellow, numbered marker. “From what we could get off the closest traffic cam, they stood right here.” He met my eyes, and I saw both fury and anger in the green depths. “Their names are Chris and Cindy. Please help me find them.”

  I moved to the marker, knelt next to it, and shook out my right hand. Since I wore the protective bracelet and ring on my left hand, I assumed they would block any sort of connection to my power. So right hand it was. I took a deep, shaky breath, and pressed my hand to the sidewalk.

  Images exploded in my mind.

  Two children, both with the blonde hair and golden skin I’d seen so often on the beach. They waved to the black Mercedes as it swung around the corner—and my heart skipped when I saw the darkness that opened behind them, like a black smudge in the air. I wanted to scream a warning, yank them away from the familiar, taloned hands reaching for them. The need weighed on my soul. But this had already happened—and now I understood what Mom meant. Being a Seer was a blessing and a curse.

  They never had time to scream. But I knew they were alive, could sense it, feel it in the residue of their bright life force under my hand. I could follow them, bring them back, save them from—

  Bran’s voice jerked me out of the past. “Open your eyes, Reese. Please, sweetheart—come back to me, now.”

  I started to breathe again, and realized that at some point I had stopped. No wonder he sounded a little manic. With an effort, I pulled my hand off the sidewalk and turned to him. He wrapped his arm around my waist and yanked me forward.

  “Don’t ever do that to me again,” he whispered. “Don’t ever lose yourself like that again.”

  “I don’t—I’m not sure what happened.”

  He eased back until I could see his face. Fear still lingered in his grey eyes. “You started to follow them, Reese.” Some of that fear edged his deep, quiet voice. “More than one Seer has been lost, following after the life force they see. They need to help, to bring them back. It’s a powerful lure. I should have warned you.” He gathered me in again, less desperate this time. “If you plan on doing this, you need to have a long talk with your mother.”

  “I did,” I whispered. Looks like I’d be having another one.

  I told Bran and Detective Phillips what I had seen. Bran didn’t look surprised.

  “So, Torlogh has a death wish after all.”

  Detective Phillips raised his eyebrows. “Going to catch me up?” Bran did, on the way back to the parking lot. By the time we got there, Detective Phillips looked like he had aged ten years. “Let me deal with the legal side of things. You go find those kids, Bran, and you end this thing.”

  “Count on it.” He took my hand and strode back to his car, so fast I had to skip every other step to keep up.

  “Bran—ˮ

  He slowed. “Sorry. I’m just—ˮ

  “Preoccupied? Worried?”

  “That, and more.”

  “How long do we have?”

  He halted, turning to me. “Until he sacrifices those kids? The full moon. Torlogh will want as much natural power as he can gather. On the other side of the Veil, a full moon is a powerful talisman. Even trapped between realms, he can use it.”

  The full moon was tomorrow night. I always track them, because I liked walking on the beach under a full moon. Now I understood the pull, the need to stand under that cool, glowing light.

  “That gives us less than two days. We can’t find the kids in—ˮ

  “We also won’t be able to track him until he’s started the ritual.”

  “What?” Panic slid through me, cold and slick. “That won’t give us any time at all.”

  Bran tightened his grip on my hand and stalked across the parking lot.

  I wanted to help those kids. Scratch that—I needed to help them. It was like a constant itch I couldn’t reach, couldn’t relieve. I had to have another conversation with Mom.

  He stopped, so abruptly I ran into him. When I stepped out from behind him, I understood why. Mom was pacing in front of his car.

  “Reese—” She ran at me, crushing me in a hug that threatened to break a couple of ribs. “Thank God.”

  “Mom—can’t breathe—”

  “Sorry.” She eased up, but she refused to let go of me. “I had a dream. It was my first since you were born. Oh, God, Reese—I saw you dead.”

  I think I stopped breathing for a minute. She brought back my own fear for Bran, buried behind the need to stop Torlogh before he did something irreversible.

  Bran took over for me, squeezing my hand. His touch had me sucking in a harsh breath.

  “I will be with her, Mrs. Pierpoint. Every second, until Torlogh is stopped.”

  “You can’t touch him before the full moon—”

  “Mom.” My voice sounded a little raw, but I kept going. “We’ll stop him. No,” I grabbed her hand when she started to protest. “I have to do this. I’m part of it, whether you want to accept that or not. If you want to take it out on someone, look up Maeve.”

  To my surprise, Mom smiled. “She’s on my list.” She touched her forehead, and I frowned when I saw her hand shaking. “I want you to be careful, Reese. I need to know that you’ll be—”

  Her eyes rolled back in her head and she toppled forward.

  I let out a cry, but Bran beat me to her, catching her before she hit the sidewalk. He lifted her in his arms.

  “We’ll take her back to my place.”

  I nodded, fear lodging my voice in my throat, and opened the passenger door. Bran gently settled her in the seat, and buckled her in. For the first time since I’d known him, he opened the driver’s side door, pulling the seat forward so I could climb in the back.

  He took off, driving as fast as he could without throwing Mom around. I ignored my seatbelt, holding on to her from behind, scared by the heat pouring off her. Her skin was slicked with sweat, and when I checked her pulse, it raced under my fingers.

  He glanced over at me. “How is she?”

  “Not good,” I whispered. “Bran—what’s wrong with her?”

  “I have a couple theories. I’ll know better when we get her home and I can examine her. We’re almost there, Reese. Keep breathing.”

  His voice helped calm me. Mom had always been so strong, a rock in my life—even if she blocked me from my life more often than not. I loved her, and I needed her. If I lost her now—

  Stop it. She’s going to be fine.

  I let the words become a mantra as Bran stopped at the end of his long driveway. He handed me the keys before he unbuckled Mom, moved around the car to pick her up. I ran ahead and unlocked the door, my fingers fumbling over the keys, shaking so badly I could hardly hold them. I had just gotten the right key in the lock when Bran joined me.

  “Deep breath, sweetheart.”

  I obeyed, and my head cleared a little—enough to unlock the door and open it. He carried Mom inside, straight to the first bedroom. I stood just inside the doorway, hugging myself, feeling completely helpless.

  Bran checked her vital signs, then did something I didn’t expect—he pushed the sleeve of her sweater up and sniffed one of her tattoos.

  “Bran?”

  “I think I know what’s wrong.” He glanced over at me, and I braced myself for bad news. “There’s a bottle of coconut water in the fridge. Can you get it for me?”

  “Sure.” I ran back to the kitchen, found the coconut water, and ran back to the bedroom with it, terrified that I’d taken too long. Bran was sitting on the bed, Mom cradled in his arm. “Can I help?” I sounded a little desperate, but I needed to do something.

  “Hold it up to her lips, and let a little of it trickle into her mouth. You’ll need to open the bottle first, Reese,” he said, his voice gentle.

  “Right.” I didn’t fall apart like this—ever. But then, Mom had never passed out in front of me before
.

  I opened the bottle, and carefully poured a little of the liquid into her mouth. It’s funny, what details stand out in the middle of a crisis. The scent of the coconut water wafted around me, and I half expected to see palm trees and a tropical beach when I looked out the window.

  After a few more awkward sips, Mom’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Mom?” Bran took the bottle from me before I could drop it. I touched her hand, and still felt the heat coming off her skin. “What happened?”

  “Reese? Where am—” She looked up at Bran, and tried to sit.

  “Slowly, Mrs. Pierpoint. You’re not ready for serious action yet.” She looked at him, and after they stared at each other for a few seconds, she nodded, closing her eyes. “Are you going to tell her, or should I?”

  She shook her head, and flinched at the movement. “I’ll tell her. Give me a minute.”

  Bran settled her to the bed, and set the bottle of coconut water on the nightstand. “I’ll leave you alone.”

  “No,” I said. “I want you to stay. He already knows, Mom. Now tell me what happened.”

  After hesitating for so long I was afraid she’d change her mind, she looked at me. “I thought I had it under control, Reese, but with all the Fae presence, I’m obviously using more energy than I thought.” She took in a shaky breath, let it out, and twisted her hands together. I braced myself. “The tattoos that ward me against detection from the Fae—they take—I use—”

  She looked over at Bran. When he raised his eyebrows, she nodded.

  He took my hand, his voice quiet. “The tattoos use your mother’s life force.”

  I stared at her, at the winding, glowing silver tattoos. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered.

  “There was nothing you could do. There’s still nothing you can do, honey. This was my choice, and I did it to protect you.”

  “I don’t need protecting anymore. So you can just—stop it.”

  Mom shook her head. “They will use me, Reese. Whoever is trying to get to you—they will use me as leverage. I won’t let that happen.”

  “Mom—” I sat next to her, and she held out her arms to me. I hugged her, carefully, scared by how fragile she felt. “You have to stop hiding things from me,” I whispered.

  “I didn’t—I’m still your mother, Reese. It is still my job to protect you.”

  I pulled free and sat up. “Not at such a cost.”

  “That will be my choice.” She met my eyes, her chin lifted in that stubborn way that meant any argument would be pointless. “I’ll be fine, with a little rest. Tell her, Bran.”

  I looked over at him. He sighed, clearly not wanting to get in the middle of a family argument. “She will be. Eventually. But you can’t keep pumping your strength into the wards, not if you want to function.”

  I crossed my arms. “So, a kind of truth. What other kind of truths have you been telling me, Mom?”

  She closed her eyes, and I knew the conversation was over. “I’m exhausted. I would like to get some rest now.”

  Bran took my arm, shook his head when I opened my mouth to argue. “We’ll leave you alone, Mrs. Pierpoint. Just call if you need anything.” He practically dragged me out of the bedroom and closed the door, waiting until we were in the living room before he said anything. “She’s right, Reese. This is her choice. You may not like it, but she’s had those wards for decades without issue.”

  “She collapsed, Bran. I can’t—I won’t—” Reaction finally crashed in on me and I spun away from him.

  “Oh, no, you’re not going to hide from me, Reese Pierpoint.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind, tightening his grip when I struggled. “You’re not alone anymore—you don’t have to do this on your own. I’m right here.”

  With a strangled sob, I turned in his arms and did the one thing I rarely did in front of anyone else. I cried.

  Bran picked me up and moved to the sofa, cradling me in his lap while I let the emotions of the last days pour out of me. When I finally came up for air, the front of his shirt was wet, and I felt like I had been crying for a week.

  “Sorry,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

  “Never apologize for feeling, Reese. It’s what makes us human.” His voice sounded odd, and I looked up at his face. Tear stained his cheeks, his grey eyes dark with worry. He tried to smile, and failed miserably. “Because my demon is so, shall we say, stoic, my human side tends to be more emotional.”

  I reached up and wiped at the tears on his cheek. “I like that you feel, Bran, and that you show it. Do you cry at sappy movies?”

  He laughed, and pulled me in, tucking me under his chin. “Like a baby.” He kissed my temple, and rubbed my back, slowly. It calmed my lingering fear. “Once again, you surprise me, Reese.”

  “I hope I never stop surprising you.”

  “So do I.”

  We held each other, and I relaxed against him, knowing this could be the last time we had a moment of calm.

  Knowing that the storm was coming.

  Twenty Six

  Bran woke, stretched out on the sofa, and wrapped around Reese.

  He eased himself off her, and sat, taking a minute to orient himself. Kids, crime scene, Fiona.

  They must have fallen asleep after Reese’s emotional purge. He had known it was coming, after all she’d been through in such a short time. He was glad he had been with her when it finally happened.

  He saw the light blinking on his cell phone, and swiped to hear the message. His heart started to pound when he heard Nick’s voice.

  “I need to meet with you, Bran. I have new information about the current case. But I want to meet in the same place.” His voice lowered. “Away from suspicious ears.” That didn’t sound good. “Call me when you get this.”

  Nick would only call if Bran needed the information to help find the kids. He deleted the message, and tapped in Nick’s cell number.

  “Phillips.”

  “Message received,” Bran said. “What time?”

  “Now. I’m already here.”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  “Got it.”

  Bran hung up and headed into the bedroom to change his shirt. By the time he walked back out to the living room, Reese was awake.

  “What is it?”

  “Nick called. He has some more information. I’m going to go meet him.”

  “Okay.” She looked nervous.

  Bran leaned down and kissed her. “You’ll be safe here. I’ve spent decades building up the barriers around this house. Take care of your mom—I won’t be long.”

  “Watch your back.”

  He kissed her again, needing her warmth. “Always.”

  He pulled his nine millimeter and his back up piece out of the small safe in the front closet. The tone in Nick’s voice told him that he might need the firepower.

  “Bran—”

  He turned around to find Reese behind him, staring at his weapons. “Part of the job, sweetheart. I want to be ready, in case some nasty comes at me, out of a clothing store.”

  She smiled, the fear in her eyes fading. “You’re going to Hillside?”

  “It’s Nick’s favorite place to meet, when he wants to be inconspicuous. He’s also addicted to a certain hot dog on a stick.”

  Her smile widened. “I totally get that. They’re the best—tasty and portable.”

  “I’m in love with a food court junkie?” Her laughter wrapped around him, and he pulled her in. “Heaven help me.”

  She was still smiling when he kissed her.

  He wanted to linger, but Nick was waiting for him.

  Reese took his hand and walked with him to the front door. “Please be careful.”

  “I have a reason now.” He kissed her one more time, and forced himself to let go of her, heading for the convertible.

  He shot down to the coast highway and zigzagged through the morning traffic, making it to the mall in record time. Because it had only just opened, the parking lot was
nearly empty, and he parked in the structure across from the mall entrance.

  He knew the second he touched the glass door that Nick was in trouble.

  He sprinted through the mall, straight toward their meeting place, slipping on the slick marble floor as he rounded the corner. Nick wasn’t in the back of the food court, where they usually met, but Bran saw the trail of blood leading to a side door. He pushed the door open and found Nick halfway down the narrow hallway, sprawled in a pool of blood.

  “Shit—” He knelt next to his friend, ignoring the blood that soaked into his jeans. “Nick.”

  There was no sign of injury, so he gently, carefully turned Nick on his side, and sucked in a harsh breath. A knife had been broken off in his back, too close to his spine. Bran didn’t need to touch the silver blade to know a Fae had been holding it.

  Nick’s eye fluttered, then opened. “Damn,” he whispered.

  “Stay still—I’m going to get help.”

  “Bran.” Nick’s whisper halted him. “In case I—don’t make it.” He swallowed, his face white. Sweat slid back into his blonde hair. Bran took his hand. “The Fae who backstabbed me—I saw her.”

  “Her?” Bran had been going on the assumption that Torlogh’s minion was male. Most of the female Fae with the kind of power Torlogh would need were too proud to bend to a Dark Man. “Did you recognize her?”

  Nick started to shake his head, and gasped. “I never—saw her coming. She’s wearing some kind of ward. She wants—you.” He took a shaky breath. “She followed me here to—trap you.”

  “If I hadn’t been delayed by traffic—”

  “You would be—here, instead of me.”

  “I could have stopped her. Stay put, Nick. I’m calling in officer down.” That would be faster than a 911 call. He pulled his cell out and tapped in the direct number to dispatch one handed. “This is Bran Malcolm. I’m with Nick Phillips and I have an officer down.”

  “I’ve got your location, Bran, and I have dispatched paramedics.” He recognized the dispatcher’s voice—it was Sara Michaels, Nick’s girlfriend. She sounded calm, but he heard the slight tremble. “How is Nick?”