Alphas for the Holidays

by Mandy M. Roth

  “Help us,” he exhorted, directing his words to whatever guardian held this world. The earth beneath the demons’ clawed rear legs developed a life of its own, and they struggled for balance.

  “Yes!” Jeremy met Breen’s exhausted gaze, and the older man nodded back.

  “Aye. We’ll take help from any quarter.” Breen refocused power on the middle demon. “Help me corral that one. He’s the strongest.”

  The contest was close, so close Jeremy wasn’t certain they’d succeed until they finally contained the demons within a magical net. So much power ran through him, every cell vibrated with the effort of directing it to his bidding. Breen nearly succumbed to the haunting music before they were done. If Jeremy hadn’t been joined to the Arch Druid, the older man would be dead.

  “Thank the goddess,” he muttered. He wasn’t certain, but he suspected if the Irichna had won tonight, it would’ve given Tyler the strength he needed to finish off the Ceobbinn women. Maybe that was what the darkness around Cassie’s house had meant.

  Indeed. And if I’d died, it would’ve left Cassie and her mother totally vulnerable.

  Yeah, but I didn’t.

  Resolve straightened his spine, and he curled his lips into a snarl. No one would harm Cassie—or Eleanora—not on his watch.

  “We’re not done yet.” Breen directed sharp words at Jeremy.

  “No. We’re not.” Jeremy drew the Seraph blade from its thigh sheath. “No wonder you told me I’d need this.”

  Breen drew a matching blade from within his robes. Specially forged with goddess blood and dragons’ fire, they were the only weapon effective against Irichna.

  “To me!” Breen cried, and the remaining Druids moved to his side, blades flashing. Some limped, some moaned softly as they marshalled what little power they had left to heal their wounds.

  He and Breen and the others held the demons at bay with Seraph blades before binding them with iron. They were just finishing with the second demon, when the third one blasted Jeremy with flame and slipped its bonds.

  “Fuck!” One of the other Druids cried, sprinting after the fleeing demon.

  “Let it go,” Breen ordered. “It will leave this world behind before you can catch it. Besides, we’ll have our hands full killing these two.”

  “Yes, Arch Druid.” The other man jogged back to their ragged circle.

  “All of you, join your magic to Jeremy’s and mine,” Breen commanded. “Hold it no matter what happens. They’ll try to sing you to insensibility. Draw power to plug your ears if you must.”

  Jeremy met Breen’s gaze asking a silent question.

  Breen nodded. “You take that one. I’ll manage the other.”

  “With pleasure.”

  Jeremy closed on his appointed demon, blade at the ready. Its song was beautiful, mesmerizing, but he ignored it, intent on the ritual unfolding by his hand. He sliced both jugular veins. When black blood geysered, coating him in fluid that smelled like a charnel pit, he moved on to the femoral veins. Thank God the fucking song was fading. He felt as if he was killing a helpless child, but recognized it for illusion spawned by the demon trying to save itself.

  A glance out of the corners of his eyes told him Breen was doing the same thing.

  The other Druids held their spell until all essence was drained from the demons. Turning in upon themselves, they dissipated in a choking cloud of black debris.

  Jeremy wiped his blade on shrubbery and shoved it back into its sheath. Breath rattled hard in his lungs and he worked to catch his breath. “Jesus, but I’m glad that’s over.”

  “You and me both, lad.” Breen wiped blood from blue eyes that shone with the flush of victory.

  “We’ll leave now,” a Druid announced.

  “Yes,” another said. “And we’ll take our companions with us. Bad enough they died here. No reason to leave them in this world for eternity.”

  Breen just nodded. “Find your homes. We did a good piece of work this night. Tomorrow is soon enough to honor our dead.”

  Jeremy waited until everyone was gone, the stench of death and rot thick in his nostrils. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

  “I tried. Most of my magic was tied up, so my telepathic powers were weak.”

  “That was why you used the phone? How did it even work across the veil?”

  Breen cracked half a grin. “Who knows? Maybe they have 4G here too. Far more importantly, thank you, lad. I owe you my life. You displayed great courage.” Laying a hand on either side of Jeremy’s head, Breen kissed his forehead and murmured a Celtic prayer.

  There’d never be a better chance to get answers out of the usually close-mouthed Arch Druid, so Jeremy said, “The Irichna are linked to the fae, right?”

  “Sadly, yes. Why do you care?”

  “Because the woman I love is in grave danger, threatened by one of the fae. As is her mother, Eleanora Ceobbinn. Surely you remember her. She’s a Celtic magic wielder, like us. Many of us have been working to free her from fae ensorcellment for this past year.”

  “I do recall authorizing that, but it was months ago.” Breen met Jeremy’s gaze with eyes that were sad and ancient and worried. “This woman you love is the same one you petitioned the Council about.”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll speak of her, but first I’ll answer your questions about the Irichna.” The Arch Druid set his jaw in a hard line. “I figured some things out during this battle, mostly because there were fae here during the early part, and they blab like stuck pigs to save themselves.” He laughed bitterly. “It didn’t work. We killed the ones that didn’t run—after we interrogated them. What they had to say corroborated all our suspicions.

  “The fae courted Irichna by feeding them human souls, bartering them for power. It’s possible this particular fae has targeted your lady love, and her mother, for such an exchange.”

  Sick horror spread through Jeremy. “Please, Breen. I can’t let that happen. You must let me—”

  Breen held up a hand. “You have my blessing, and that of the Council. Do whatever you must to rid the Earth of both demons and fae.”

  “Cassionetta?” Jeremy held his breath.

  “You’ve loved her for years, son. Follow your heart.”

  Jeremy hugged the old Druid hard. “Thank you!”

  “Don’t mention it. Now let’s get out of here.” He sheathed his blade and split the veil, motioning Jeremy through ahead of him.

  Chapter 3

  Cassie rolled over and pried one eye open. Gray, morning light streamed into her bedroom and she realized she hadn’t closed her curtains the night before. Given what an upsetting evening she’d had, she was amazingly rested. She slid across the bed, thinking she’d get out on the side closest to the bathroom. Her foot ran into something. An outraged yowl from Hector told her he’d spent the night on her bed.

  “Sorry.” She sat up and scratched his ears. The attention seemed to mollify him, so she headed for the shower. Maybe if she got out of the house early enough, she could sidestep another confrontation with Tyler—at least until she got home tonight.

  I have to do something. I can’t live this way any longer.

  She considered moving out, but discarded the thought as soon as it surfaced. Other than a few trips where she’d taken Eleanora to the doctor as soon as she regained consciousness, Cassie hadn’t been able to coax her to leave the house. There was no way she was going anywhere if it meant leaving her mother. Besides, if she stood down, Tyler would waltz away with everything.

  Never. That will never fucking happen.

  A repeat of last night’s fury rushed through her, and she welcomed the infusion of courage mixed with energy.

  Half an hour later, dressed in a denim skirt, cream-colored linen blouse, jacket, and boots, she wound her wet hair into a bun and secured it with a scrunchie. Hector meowed at the door. She supposed he needed to go out. Sure enough, as soon as she pulled her door open, he raced down the hallway, probably heading for h
is kitty door.

  Cassie grabbed her purse and computer case, locked the door, and tiptoed down the hall, taking the back stairs since they were farthest from Tyler’s rooms. On the ground floor, she poked her head into the library—a wonderful room lined from floor to ceiling with books—to make certain Murietta, her mother’s African Gray parrot, had survived the séance.

  “Awk, morning, child. Awk.”

  “Good morning back at you.” A smile tugged her lips upward, and Cassie scooped a handful of seeds, dropping them into Murietta’s dish. Back in the hall, she stopped to listen. Other than muted pecking from the library, the house was silent. She grabbed an orange and a granola bar when she passed through the kitchen and crept down the wooden risers leading to the garage.

  She didn’t realize how nervous she’d been about running into Tyler until she slammed and locked the door to her Subaru, hit the remote to raise the door, and backed out of the garage. Tyler’s old VW Passat was parked on the street, so she figured he was inside somewhere.

  A cold spear of fear pricked her, and she shuddered from head to toe.

  Please, she prayed to no one in particular, let Mother be all right until I get home.

  Cassie pushed against the door of the coffee shop, intent on returning to her office. It had been a hell of a day. When the door didn’t budge, she shoved harder, really shouldering into it. Rain pelted against the glass. Wind rose to a screech as she finally wrestled her way through, a large latté clutched against her chest. The minute she jockeyed herself outside, wind caught her hair, plastering black strands across her eyes. Lightning split the sky, and she counted under her breath, “One one-thousand, two one-thousand…” Thunder boomed sooner than she expected.

  Cassie considered running back into Starbucks, drinking her coffee, eating her pumpkin bread, and waiting out the storm. “Can’t do that,” she muttered. “Got to get back to work. Haven’t accomplished a damned thing today.” Setting her mouth in a firm line, she pulled her short coat more closely about her with her free hand and set off at a brisk pace.

  Damn! I never called Jeremy. But he didn’t call me, either.

  She felt vaguely guilty, but she’d been so immersed in e-Ouija, she’d forgotten about her friend’s middle of the night call. Until just now.

  “Lady…” A thin wail rose the same time someone grabbed at her skirt.

  Cripes! Another homeless person. Jesus, they’ve gotten gutsy.

  “Leave me alone,” she snarled, snatching her clothing away from the palsied hand rising out of the shadows of Yesler Way’s gutters.

  “Don’ be like that,” the voice mewled. “Ise hungry. Bet you never missed no meals. How ’bout a fiver?” Wine fumes, sour and unpleasant, rose along with the words. He scrabbled for her skirt again.

  “You’d just drink it up.” She wrenched away from the bum and half-ran down the street.

  “You be sorry you didn’ hep. Youse cursed, but I curse you agin, I does. Almost Christmas. Youse supposed to help folk who don’ have your luck.”

  “Isn’t that just fucking great,” she mumbled. “Can’t figure out how to fix my e-Ouija project, Tyler’s looking like a predator, and now I’ve been soundly cursed and chastised by a bum.”

  You forgot leaving home without a decent coat, her inner voice reminded her loftily.

  “Oh, shut up,” she growled, reaching the front door of the Smith Tower. Since it was past seven o’clock it was locked, so she punched in the code, checking carefully that no one was watching. The Tower, as it was known to the denizens renting office space there, was the oldest office building in Seattle. Its lower levels reached into catacombs riddling the hills beneath. She’d used them a few times as an underground shortcut, but hordes of homeless were quite a deterrent. They made Mister Curses-On-You look like a real slacker.

  Safely inside, she took a tentative sip from her cup, breathing appreciatively as the rich, fragrant beverage warmed her throat. She thought about taking her wet coat off and shaking it over the marble foyer, but didn’t want to spend too much time under the illumination of the antique chandeliers lighting the lobby. Even if someone didn’t know the code, it’d be an easy enough matter to rock out the glass. Settling for pushing her soaked hair behind her shoulders, she trotted to the bank of elevators, inserted her key, and waited for a car to deposit her on the thirteenth floor.

  Cassie closed her teeth over her lower lip. Working in Eleanora’s office held a bittersweet aspect, but it seemed like a waste of money to rent another space when her mother wasn’t using this one. Initially, she told herself she was keeping the office warm and inhabited until Eleanora returned. But her mother doing anything beyond wandering like a wraith looked less and less likely as months dripped by.

  Don’t think like that. I can’t give up hope.

  Cassie glanced at the keys in her hand and wondered how long she’d been standing outside the door of thirteen-twelve. Long enough to finish her coffee, she realized, disappointed the paper cup was empty. She inserted her key into the lock, turned it, and let herself into the electronic design shop she’d fashioned out of her mother’s spacious, high-ceilinged workplace.

  She stopped dead when she saw Jeremy seated across the room. “Jesus Christ,” she gasped. “How’d you get in here?”

  “Magic?” Jeremy smiled fetchingly from Eleanora’s psychic-reading divan. His too-long blond hair, cat-green eyes, and chubby body held an almost girlish grace.

  After her initial shock receded, Cassie was glad to see him. Since she tended to be a loner, he was the only consistent presence in her life other than her mother…and Tyler. Except Tyler scarcely counted at this point.

  “No, really.” She kicked the door shut and shuffled to her desk where she set down her purse, tossed her cup in the overflowing wastebasket, and dragged her smashed pumpkin bread out from under her wet jacket. She slipped out of her coat and shook it briskly over the hardwood floor. Taking a bite of her erstwhile dinner, she eyed Jeremy.

  “I coaxed my way in,” he admitted, color staining his cheeks. “Thought you might need me.”

  “Planning on a future as a telepathic cat burglar?” She scrunched her nose at him as she continued eating.

  “Looks good.” He stared at the pumpkin bread, while ignoring her question.

  “I need it more than you do,” she replied, chewing. “Wish I had some coffee left to go with it, though.”

  He made a snorting noise. “We could catch a late dinner. My treat.”

  “Nah, I came back because I’m really close to something. In fact, since you’re here, maybe you could help me. Your psychic energy might make all the difference.”

  “With the e-Ouija thing?”

  “Yeah.”

  She looked away, embarrassed. Jeremy was the only one she’d confided in about how the electronic Ouija board might help her mother. He’d been less-than-optimistic about the odds of it working. His lack of enthusiasm was why she never told Tyler. Just as well. It would’ve turned into one more thing for him to use against her.

  Her forays using the old-fashioned Ouija board had been promising. Cassie came within an angstrom of communicating with Eleanora, but something always happened. That was why she’d begun her work on e-Ouija, hoping she could create something far more powerful that would break through whatever was standing between her and her mother.

  Despite Jeremy’s doubts, she’d worked nights and weekends for months, using her electrical engineering skills to develop the circuitry and software, but there’d been a phalanx of unexpected problems, including a couple of break-ins, where her computer was vandalized. She’d no sooner recovered from the second burglary when someone hacked her and corrupted her design files. After that, Eleanora’s rapidly deteriorating physical condition forced Cassie’s hand. She quit her engineering day job, since she didn’t really need the income, and threw all her energies into the e-Ouija project.

  “Sure, Cass, I’ll help. At least for a while.”

  Cassie sn
apped her head up. She’d been so lost in thought, she’d almost forgotten Jeremy still sat on the sofa.

  “You’re a really good friend…” she began just as her phone trilled “March of the Valkyries.”

  “Crap, it’s Tyler.”

  She fumbled mechanically in her purse for the phone, still off balance from his threats the night before. He hated Wagner, so she’d assigned that ringtone to his phone number as a joke

  “’Lo?”

  “Christ on a crutch, Cass. Where the fuck are you? It’s closing on nine.”

  “Nice to hear from you too,” she purred.

  “Never mind that. When are you coming home to keep an eye on your mother?”

  “Another hour.”

  “So you’ll be here by ten?” An undercurrent of malice ran beneath his words.

  “Is Mom all right?”

  After a pause that felt a shade too long, he replied, “She’s fine. Why would you even ask?”

  “No reason.”

  He cleared his throat ominously. “Ten, Cassie?”

  “Okay.”

  “You alone?”

  She looked over at Jeremy, who was making chopping motions with both hands. “Yeah, why?”

  “I figured you were holed up with that fag friend of yours. You spend way too much time with him and that faux magic of his.”

  “Oh, so yours is better?”

  Whoops, shouldn’t have said that. Don’t want to piss him off.

  “Mine is real.” His voice went deadly quiet. “Don’t you ever forget it.”

  She began to say something, but he hung up on her.

  “He’s at least partially right.” Jeremy left the comfort of the divan and crossed the room toward her. As usual, he wore faded blue jeans, a nondescript sweatshirt, and butter-colored leather boots. He stopped a couple feet away.

  “About what? How would you even know what he said?” She frowned at the phone before setting it down. Having second thoughts, she picked it up again to turn it off.