Alphas for the Holidays

by Mandy M. Roth

  Speaking of which, I need to hunt for Mother.

  Cassie got to her feet, stuffing them into slippers before heading into the hall. She glanced around nervously before locking her door. Tyler had moved into the guest suite at the north end of the ground floor, but the mood he was in, it paid to be vigilant.

  Mrroww.

  Hector, Eleanora’s large, black tomcat, landed lightly not ten feet from her, his tail pluming as it swished back and forth.

  Cassie jumped. “Awk! Where’d you come from?” She bent to scratch his head. The cat arched his back in pleasure. “Do you know where Mother is?”

  Mrroww. Swish, swish.

  “I take it that’s a no.” She turned a wall dial. Crystal sconces lining the long hallway brightened. Polished hardwood with Aubusson runners stretched before her. Leaded glass panes lined the hall. Priceless paintings graced the walls at intervals, interspersed with elegant bronze sculptures. Cassie checked her mother’s bedroom. Empty. Eleanora’s wonderful, earthy scent lingered. It made Cassie sad. If ever she needed one of her parents, it was now.

  I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. I’m twenty-five, for God's sake. Time to fight my own battles.

  Not finding Eleanora anywhere on the second floor, Cassie mounted the stairs to the third. Faint chanting drifted from downstairs, and she wondered whose dead relative was on the hook tonight. She believed in the spirit world, and she’d always trusted Eleanora to hold the gates. Her faith in Tyler’s ability to do the same was pretty truncated.

  Oh my God. Is that how he’s planning to hurt me? By proxy?

  Her heart slammed against her chest. It was hard to breathe around the thickening in her throat. Some spirits could do a lot of damage, mostly through suffocation or running people off cliffs…

  “Stop it.” She spoke out loud to get a grip on what was starting to feel like panic. “Find Mom. Make sure she’s okay.” It did occur to her that if Eleanora were truly missing, it would give her the perfect excuse to clear out all the New Agers at the séance and call the police.

  There were seven bedrooms on the third floor. Eleanora stood in the one at the far end of the hall, staring out its large windows into the night. Cassie left the bedroom lights off. Enough illumination filtered in from the hall that was twin to the one on the floor below.

  “Mother?” She crept forward and laid a hand on Eleanora’s arm.

  Her mother flinched and shook her off.

  Cassie’s eyes flooded. Even though her mother wasn’t really rejecting her, it still hurt. Especially now when she felt alone and vulnerable.

  Mrroww.

  Cassie looked around. Hector sat in the doorway, his ears pricked forward. She didn’t realize he’d followed her.

  Eleanora turned and walked to the cat. Maybe his non-human frequency was easier for her to respond to. He twined himself around her legs, purring for all he was worth. She reached down and petted him and then drifted into the hall like a sleepwalker. Cassie thought about trying to talk to her mother again, but gave it up for wasted effort. Either her mother couldn’t hear her, or she couldn’t answer.

  Dressed all in black, as always, Eleanora’s skirts swirled around her. Cassie followed her back to the second floor and breathed a sigh of relief when her mother went into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. The snick of the deadbolt was loud in the silence of the hall.

  Mrroww. Hector’s tail swished faster. He looked annoyed. The cat lifted a paw and left a long scratch in the wood next to Eleanora’s door.

  “It’s okay. You can sleep with me.”

  Cassie strode the few feet to her own room and unlocked the door. Hector raced inside. Who knew? Maybe the séance made him just as uncomfortable as it made her. The rise and fall of voices from below hadn’t abated. She pulled the door shut and secured it, wishing she’d inherited some sort of magical ability. Almost anything would be helpful. Telepathy to read Tyler’s mind. Clairvoyance to peek into the future. Medium skills to raise spirits to protect herself—or harm him.

  She walked briskly across the room and pawed through a bottom drawer, coming up with a dog-eared card. It was one of the last birthday cards her father had given her before he declared her too old for such nonsense. She dug a small, flat crystal out of the envelope. Her father had said if she ever needed him to hold the crystal in her hand and think of him. He’d told her to plan ahead because results wouldn’t be immediate, and she might have to do it more than once.

  Cassie stared at the clear stone with amber flecks deep inside. She set it down, unzipped her black wool skirt, and let it pool around her feet. Her green cashmere sweater came next. She carted them to her closet where she hunted down hangers. Grabbing purple sweats off the floor, she pulled them on and returned to the table where she’d left the crystal. Her hand hovered over it before she picked it up again.

  What about fighting my own battles?

  To hell with that. What about being so stubborn I end up dead?

  Hector jumped onto the bed and proceeded to groom himself. She flopped down next to him and kicked off her slippers. She didn’t want to bother her father in London unnecessarily—cripes, she hadn’t seen him since she was ten—but the animosity from Tyler scared her. A lot.

  I need help, but it’s not fair to involve anyone else.

  Cassie blew out a tense breath. Her magical heritage had been quite effective sealing her off from casual friendships. She’d always been afraid something would slip, and the person would think she was crazy.

  Rubbing her temples—the headache pounded behind both eyes now—she considered involving the police. Even if she got them to chase Tyler off, unless she hired a bodyguard, he’d probably worm his way back into the house. And then he might kill her, as retribution for calling in the law.

  Tyler had a pretty sweet deal. One he planned to hang on to. He’d made that abundantly clear in the garage. Why the hell had it taken her so long to figure out how toxic he was? Feeling like a gullible idiot, and a weak one at that, she let the stone warm in her hand and thought of her father.

  Cassie didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until her standard ringtone—“Ode to Joy”—sounded from the depths of her shoulder bag. Staggering muzzily across the room, she located the phone and punched answer without focusing on the display.

  “Cass?”

  Her eyes widened. “Jeremy? What time is it?”

  “Past midnight. Sorry to wake you, but it’s important.”

  She picked her way back to the bed, cursing when she stepped on one of the high heels she’d discarded earlier.

  “Are you all right?” He sounded worried.

  “Uh, yeah. Just stepped on something sharp. Give me a second to get back under the covers. It’s cold in here.” She pulled the duvet up to her chin. “Okay, all set. What’s up?”

  “I just got this uncomfortable feeling…” His voice trailed off.

  Cassie sat up straighter in bed, not feeling at all sleepy anymore. Something in her friend’s voice was…unsettling. Jeremy Winslow was almost her only friend; she’d known him forever. Psychic like her mother, he definitely marched to his own drummer.

  “Whatever it is, just spit it out. Sometimes it’s easier that way.”

  A sigh rattled through the cellular network. “It’s hard to explain, but I felt something dark, menacing and felt certain you were in danger.”

  Cassie sucked in a breath. For the briefest of moments she considered telling him everything but reined herself in. No point in getting Jeremy riled up about Tyler’s threats. This wasn’t his problem. Besides, she was embarrassed about fessing up to her own stupidity.

  Yeah, I was so desperate for a guy to want me, I didn’t read the fine print.

  “Cass? You’re pretty silent over there. It’s not making me feel any better.”

  “Huh? Oh.” She forced a light laugh. “Tyler held a séance earlier, but I’m sure they’ve mostly left by now. I could go look—”

  “No!” The single word thu
ndered in her ear.

  “Okay, okay. You don’t have to shout.”

  “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.” He cleared his throat. “I probably shouldn’t have bothered you. Promise me you’ll stay in your room until daylight. With the door locked.”

  “Sure.” Confusion and an uneasy sensation made her feel ill.

  “Call me tomorrow.”

  The sick feeling didn’t get any better. Jeremy had never felt the need to check on her before. “You’re overreacting. I’m spending all day working on e-Ouija.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you then. Sleep well, Cassie. Sorry to wake you.”

  “Jeremy?”

  He wasn’t there. To her surprise, she could barely keep her eyes open. Then she realized he’d probably cast a spell to make sure she stayed in her room.

  Damn it.

  Jeremy’s my friend, but the last thing I need in my life is two meddling men using magic to control me.

  Chapter 2

  Jeremy sat on the edge of one of the straight-backed oak chairs that ringed his dining room table, staring at the cell phone in his hand. Cassionetta hadn’t told him everything.

  Hell, she barely told me anything.

  He slammed a fist down on the table. The circle of lit candles jumped, flames flickering. Jeremy took a deep breath and let it out. Then another one. He had to get his temper under better control, or it would interfere with his seer gift. Needing something to do, he stood, picked up a stick of blood-imbued charcoal, and re-drew the pentagram scribed on the floor around the table. The simple movement calmed him.

  He always checked on Cassionetta. Usually around midnight. What he’d found tonight unnerved him. A darkness had settled around the old brick mansion that stank of fae magic interwoven with Irichna demon castings. The Irichna worked for Abaddon, Demon of the Abyss. Evil didn’t get much worse than that.

  Even so, he’d paced with the phone in his hand for a while, feeling desperately torn. He owed allegiance to the Druids, which meant his hands were tied when it came to interference in mortals’ affairs. If he remained on the sidelines, what would happen to Cassie? He loved her—had for years—even though she didn’t know it.

  He finally called one of the younger Arch Druids, a Bard, and received the answer he both dreaded and expected: “Do not interfere. This is not your problem. Besides, we have our hands full elsewhere this night.”

  “But Eleanora is in that house too.”

  “Eleanora isn’t a Druid, either. We’re already working on her problem, as you well know. I told you,” the Bard sounded exasperated, “we have bigger problems. Stand ready to assist if called.”

  “Assist with what?”

  But the line was dead.

  He stared at the cell phone, sick fear gnawing a hole in his guts. Mumbling a hasty prayer to the goddess to forgive him, Jeremy tossed caution to the winds and punched in Cassie’s number. He’d been unspeakably relieved when she answered. The phone had rung so many times, he’d been ready to jump in his car and drive over there. Would have if he hadn’t been able to reach her.

  Jeremy belonged to the worldwide Druid Council. He’d petitioned them over and over to be freed from his vows of secrecy, so he could tell Cassionetta more about what had happened to her mother. Never mind alerting her that the Council was working nonstop to figure out a way to bring Eleanora back before the fae killed her. His pleas were always denied. As was his request to court Cassionetta. Druids married other Druids and that was that. Occasional dispensation was granted to join with other magic wielders, but never to marry one who had no gifts at all.

  Worshipping Cassie from afar and settling for just being her friend hadn’t been so bad until Tyler showed up. It had been slow torture to watch her get suckered in by him. He couldn’t stand the thought of her in Tyler’s arms. Let alone the two of them actually making love. When he conferred with other Druids, they counseled him to pray for inner peace and extolled the virtue of acceptance. Jeremy hadn’t cared much for the inference he was letting emotional slippage get in the way of his duty to his fellow Druids.

  He reached for his power, relieved when its sweet, clean tang filled his nostrils. Too keyed up to be still, he emptied his silver scrying bowl at the sink, refilled it with pure spring water, and waited for the surface to settle. Once it did, he chanted, calling up a vision of the front of Cassionetta’s home. It looked better than it had earlier—the darkness had mostly dissipated—so he waved a hand over the water, breaking contact.

  Before Eleanora became trapped in the fae realm, they’d often communicated through their scrying pools. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to see inside the house since that monster moved in.

  Jeremy paced up and down the generous length of his living room. He lived in an old house on Queen Anne Hill that his uncle, another Druid, had given him before moving back to Ireland. Borrowing a page from Uncle Ian, Jeremy kept the outside of the house looking nondescript to discourage those who might simply drop by. Much of his time was spent working on magical projects assigned by various Arch Druids. As an Ovate, the Council often had need of his seer gift and his ability to think through thorny problems. It wouldn’t do to have strangers walk in on him in the midst of things.

  The inside of the house was another matter. Furnished with eighteenth and nineteenth century American antiques, it was a cozy lair, a retreat from a human-saturated world. He stopped pacing long enough to toss another log into the floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. It blazed merrily, reminding him of the power of the four elements: fire, water, earth, and air. He sent up a brief prayer to Gaia for his affinity to two of them—fire and earth. Most Druids only controlled one element with any level of proficiency.

  His phone trilled. He snatched it up and looked at the caller ID. A frown drew his brows together. Why would Breen, highest of the Arch Druids, be calling? Breen was a master of telepathy. He never resorted to phones.

  Suspicious of some sort of demon-spawned trick, Jeremy readied magic to blast whoever was at the other end of the cellular line before cautiously tapping the answer key.

  Breen’s unmistakable gravelly voice skipped over amenities. “We have problems. You must come now.”

  “Where?” Excitement pinged through him. Jeremy loved a good fight. There was something exhilarating about drawing power from fire and earth, feeling the raw elements thrum through his body.

  “Open yourself to me once you are out of doors. My energy will lead you here.” Breen’s tone sharpened. “Do not tarry. Bring your Seraph blade.”

  “My Seraph blade? I sensed Irichna demons earlier. Does this have anything to do with—?”

  The line hummed hollowly; the Arch Druid had hung up.

  Jeremy dropped the phone into the pocket of his corduroy coat. He barked a word, and the magical Seraph blade materialized by his side. He bound it to his upper leg in a thigh sheath. Banking the fire, he ran out the door casting a protect-this-house spell over one shoulder.

  The velvety blackness of a moonless, starless night closed over him. A quarter moon was up there, but obscured by clouds. He opened his magic, questing for Breen’s whereabouts. Understanding socked him in the guts, and anxiety threaded with anticipation. The battle wasn’t here. Not on this world. No wonder he hadn’t sensed its emanations. If he hesitated, he’d be lost, so he focused his power, splitting the veil separating Earth from many border worlds.

  And came face to face with three Irichna.

  Breathtakingly beautiful, with iridescent golden skin and deep whirling pools for eyes, they lured prospects with a song worthy of Odysseus’s Sirens. When their victims came willingly, they sucked their souls free of their bodies and discarded the corpses. It was how they fed.

  He ripped his gaze from the Irichna and took in a scene worthy of Hell.

  Many Druids he’d known forever lay dead or dying on an endless plain spread beneath a deep violet sky. It was clear the battle had raged for hours, possibly even days. Sorrow for those he’d not see again until the a
fterlife vied with fear for the Arch Druid, who’d been like a father to him.

  Breen strode toward him. Jeremy locked gazes with the older man, taking in his snow white hair, harsh blue eyes, and black monk’s robes. The Arch Druid stood tall, his hands raised channeling power, but he was clearly fading. Slapping up what he hoped were impenetrable wards, Jeremy raced to his side.

  “How can I help?”

  “Mind link with me. Lend everything you’ve got to this casting. We must stop them here before they do more damage.”

  Jeremy didn’t hesitate. Humans didn’t realize it, but Druids stood between them and certain annihilation if Abaddon grew strong enough to loose his crew on the world.

  The demons must’ve been weakened by the magic they’d expended. Maybe because Jeremy was fresh, their song, while still compelling, was no longer irresistible. He didn’t stop with linking his powers to the Arch Druid’s casting. He wove himself into the fibers of the working until their magics became indistinguishable.

  It was a bold move. If he expended too much of himself, he’d never be able to separate from Breen again. Worse, if one of them died, the other would too. The other Druids who were still on their feet were depleted. None were strong enough to levy more than token resistance.

  Jeremy ground his jaws together and strengthened his bond to Breen. All or nothing. No holding back.

  The demons worked as a group, lobbing death in a huge circle. Anything they touched went up in greasy, noxious smelling flames. The need to mount a defense practically obliterated offensive maneuvers, and Jeremy bounded from side to side, light on his feet as he kept the demons’ strikes away from both him and Breen.

  The border world heaved and groaned beneath him. Clearly the land resented the demons’ presence and wanted them gone as well.