“I’m on fire!” Fontaine flapped his arms like a chicken.
“Stop doing that,” Sylvia ordered. “You’re making things worse.”
“I’m on fire!”
“Good,” Sylvia said. “You deserve it. This is your fault.”
“Seriously, my pants are on fire!”
I shifted my gaze to the two figures behind Sylvia and Fontaine. The wraiths were shrinking, their gaunt bodies pressed to the back wall. There wasn’t a lot of room to move in the small corner where they were trapped. I knew the fire wasn’t big enough to trap them for long, though.
“Let’s go,” Aidan said, appearing at my side and rubbing his wrists. “You’re a total badass, by the way.”
“I’m going to want you to put that in writing when we’re out of here,” I said, moving toward the door.
“We’ll have it notarized.”
I paused when something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I leaned over and grabbed the jug of lamp oil and straightened, casting a look over my shoulder as I considered my options.
“Are you going to burn them alive?” Aidan asked.
“There’s at least one more wraith outside,” I said. “Everyone is on their way.”
“I thought you said your cellphone didn’t work?”
“I said it didn’t work in the church,” I corrected. “I didn’t say it didn’t work outside of the church. I couldn’t say that in front of them, though.”
“How did you get out of the church?”
“Sister Mary Angelica. She’s outside waiting for everyone so she can tip them off about the wraith. I’m sure there are more of them now.”
“You are … always a surprise,” Aidan said. He gave me a quick hug. “I love you. I’m going to beat your ass later for risking yourself, but I love you.”
“I couldn’t deal with an empty spot,” I said. “Now back up.”
“Are you really going to burn them alive?”
It was a tough question. He was really asking whether I was ready to kill two people. Killing wraiths was one thing. They should’ve died years before. They lived on borrowed time as it was. Killing people, even if they were evil, was quite another. “Yes.”
“I’m not faulting you,” Aidan said. “I think they need to die. I’ll do it if you want me to.”
“No,” I said. “It’s my job.”
Aidan’s face was unreadable. “Okay.”
I uncapped the jug, meeting Fontaine’s eyes as I readied for action. “I am genuinely sorry it came to this. You did try to warn me in your own way. You’re too much of a danger, though.”
“Wait!”
“You should have stayed away,” I said. “You’re a bottom-feeder. You always have been. You could have survived on someone else’s turf, but your ego kept bringing you back here. You just had to beat my father, and it’s coming back on you now.”
“We can come to an understanding,” Fontaine said, his eyes pleading.
“You can’t be trusted, and I’m tired of looking over my shoulder.”
My arms surged forward, and the liquid splashed out. The flames grew. I took a step back and repeated the motion. I was coating the area between Fontaine and Sylvia and the door, watching as the flames solidified and closed off any avenue of escape. “We’ll be waiting outside to collect your souls.”
I emptied the jug and then tossed it into the flames, taking a step back as the fresh air from outside washed over me. I risked one more glance at Fontaine, the blaze growing to a raging inferno between us. “I hope you find peace.”
“LOOK OUT!”
I ducked as a body covered mine and forced me to the ground. The loud thud of metal meeting brick assailed my ears. I lifted my head, surprised to see Griffin shielding my body with his, and a thick knife resting on the ground near our feet. When had he arrived? “Hi.”
“Hi yourself,” he said, pulling me to the side of the mausoleum. He moved his hands over me, checking for injuries. “What’s going on in there?”
“I … they’re burning.”
Griffin searched my face and ran his hand down the back of my head. It was as if he understood what I’d just done. “Okay. Stay here.”
“Wait. Why?”
Griffin pointed to the scene in front of the mausoleum. The wraiths had multiplied in number, too numerous to count now. My brothers had arrived – and my father was cutting through black cloaks with reckless abandon – and a really big sword – but we were still outnumbered.
“I can help,” I said.
“You’ve already helped,” Griffin said. “Just … stay here.”
“I … .”
“Stay here! For once in your life, just do what you’re told.”
“We’re going to have a talk about this later,” I warned.
He kissed my forehead. “I’m looking forward to it. I have a few things I want to talk to you about, too.”
“Hey, I called for help.”
“And then you ran headlong into danger, as you always do.”
“I cannot possibly be blamed for this situation,” I said.
“As much as I enjoy a lovers’ spat, do you think you could help?” Braden moved in front of us and slammed a knife into the chest of an approaching wraith. “We still have a little work to do.”
“Sorry.” Griffin moved to Braden’s side, a knife clutched in his hand. I had no idea where he gotten it, but my father fancied himself an antique weapons collector. Fighting supernatural beings in a cemetery probably seemed a good opportunity to dust them off and unsheathe them.
I fought the urge to join the fray, reminding myself that I was probably more of a hindrance than a help, but the inner argument wasn’t going well. I crouched outside of the mausoleum, and despite the fight still raging outside, I couldn’t push the reality of what I’d done inside out of my mind.
I hadn’t just let Fontaine and Sylvia die. I’d killed them. I knew I should feel guilty, but that wasn’t the emotion flitting through me. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t satisfied with my actions. I wasn’t proud of myself. I wasn’t angry, either. I was … confused.
I jerked when a hand landed on my arm, swiveling my head and expecting to find a wraith trying to drain me. I didn’t have a weapon to protect myself.
The hand on my arm wasn’t chalky. The fingernails weren’t red talons. The clothing wasn’t a black robe. It was hard to tell what I confronted. The flesh was an angry red in some places and charcoal black in others. The thing touching me hadn’t attacked from outside, it had escaped from inside.
“Fontaine,” I gasped.
His face was a mess, his features unrecognizable. He wasn’t a threat, and there was no chance of his survival. I knew that. He still clung to life, though.
“I can’t believe you did that,” he rasped.
“Is Sylvia still alive, too? I thought for sure you guys would die in there.”
“I used her body as a shield to escape,” Fontaine rasped.
“Well, you always were a standup guy.”
Fontaine had crawled out of the mausoleum, his legs no longer strong enough to hold him upright. He rested on his elbow, large swatches of his clothing burned away, revealing scarred flesh beneath. I settled on the ground next to him.
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Fontaine said, a violent cough erupting from his mangled chest.
“People always underestimate me.”
“I’m sure they do. I know I did.”
He was winding down, but I still had questions. “Who is your boss?”
Fontaine chuckled weakly. “You’re still looking for answers. Even now, when your family is fighting a battle, you still need to know the hows and whys.”
“Tell me,” I prodded. “You know you don’t have much time. You crawled out here for a reason. I think you want to tell me.”
“Maybe I’m just bitter enough to take my secret to the grave,” Fontaine suggested, his head starting to droop toward the ground.
�
��You have a chance to do one good thing before you’re judged,” I said.
“There is that,” Fontaine said. “Okay. I’ll tell you.”
His lips were cracked and bleeding. I leaned my head close to hear the last words he would ever utter. They were enough to send my world into a tailspin. I had never seen this coming.
Thirty-Seven
“Is Aidan okay?”
“He’s being checked out right now,” Griffin said, rubbing my back as he stepped up behind me. “Maya and Cillian are in with him. Your father and Braden are with Redmond. He needs a few stitches. They’re both going to be fine, though.”
The cleanup at the cemetery had ended at the same time the sun began to sink on the horizon. I’d collected Fontaine’s soul without letting it materialize. I couldn’t bear to look at him. Not again. Then I had gone searching for Sylvia’s soul. Instead of listening to her or questioning her further, I absorbed her ethereal remains while she continued raving about Fontaine’s mistakes.
Sister Mary Angelica waited until everything was over, and then willingly said goodbye to the earthly plane. “You do a good thing here, girl. Don’t forget that. Life is hard, and you have a lot of choices to deal with, but you can’t second-guess yourself. What happened here today was a tragedy, but your family is safe and you all lived to fight another day. That’s the most important thing. Never give up the fight.” Her final words were busily going through my mind, even as Fontaine’s final admission haunted me.
“Fontaine choked Aidan,” I said, my voice hollow. “He should be checked out thoroughly.”
“It’s a hospital,” Griffin said. “That’s what they do here.”
“Was anyone else hurt?”
Griffin furrowed his brow. He’d already given me an update. It just hadn’t fully registered. “Everyone else is fine. How about you? Are you hurt?”
“No one laid a finger on me,” I said. “Well … Fontaine did … but he was already pretty much gone.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I lifted my head, meeting Griffin’s concerned gaze. “I don’t know.”
“Okay,” he said, ushering me toward one of the chairs in the waiting room. “Why don’t you sit down and rest for a few minutes. You look dead on your feet.”
That was an interesting choice of words. “Are you going to yell at me for going after Aidan alone?”
“No,” Griffin said. “He’s your brother. You couldn’t leave him.”
“I called before I went.”
“I know.”
“I had to go after him. I couldn’t just leave him.”
“I know.”
“I … .”
Griffin pushed my hair out of my face so he could study me. “What did Fontaine say to you?”
“What makes you think he said anything to me?”
“He was dying,” Griffin said. “He knew he was dying. He obviously felt he had something you needed to hear.”
“He … he said he was surprised I killed him.”
“Is that what’s bothering you? Are you upset about … the fire? You didn’t have a choice. You know that, right? It was either you or them.”
“I know,” I said. “I still feel weird about it.”
“Well, that’s probably a normal reaction,” Griffin said. “You still didn’t have a choice. I don’t want you to feel guilty.”
“I don’t feel guilty.”
Griffin was frustrated. “Then what’s wrong? Your family just survived a war. You won. You’re all in one piece, more or less.”
“Fontaine did tell me something before he died,” I said, my voice small.
Griffin waited.
“Sylvia and Fontaine were working for someone,” I said. “They said they were acquiring me for a business associate. They were only interested in me for the money. That was their ultimate goal. It was their associate who really wanted me.”
“Why?”
“They wouldn’t say,” I said. “Just that whoever it was had plans for me.”
“You’re worried because there’s still someone out there, aren’t you? Did Fontaine tell you who?”
I nodded, my lower lip starting to tremble despite my best efforts to remain strong.
“Who, baby? Tell me. We can’t fight the enemy if we don’t know who it is.”
I sucked in a steadying breath and faced him, momentarily getting lost in the depths of his chocolate eyes.
“Aisling, tell me,” Griffin pressed. “You’re scaring me.”
“He said … he said it was my mother.”
Griffin’s face drained. “What?”
“He said my mother is still alive, and she was the one who … she’s coming for me.”
Griffin drew me close, resting his cheek against the side of my head.
He didn’t know what to say. That was fine, because I didn’t know what to think.
“It’s going to be okay, Aisling.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” he said, pressing his lips to my forehead. “We’ll figure it out.”
That was easier said than done.
Author’s Note
I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my novels. I have a particular brand of humor that isn’t for everyone – and I know that.
If you liked the book, please take a few minutes and leave a review. An independent author does it all on their own, and the reviews are helpful. I understand that my characters aren’t for everyone, though. There’s a lot of snark and sarcasm in my world – and I know some people don’t like that.
Special thanks go out to Heidi Bitsoli and Phil VanHulle for correcting the (numerous) errors that creep into a work of fiction.
If you’re interested in my future works, follow me on Facebook, Twitter or join my mailing list. I do not believe in spam. I only announce new releases or free promotions.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
Books by Amanda M. Lee
Avery Shaw Mysteries
Who, What, Where, When, Die
If it Bleeds, it Leads
Buried Leads
Shot off the Presses
The Preditorial Page
Misquoted & Demoted
Headlines & Deadlines (Summer 2015)
Covenant College Mysteries
Awakening (Book One)
Whispering (Book Two)
Conjuring (Book Three)
Waxing & Waning (Book Four)
Graduating (Book Five)
Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mysteries
Any Witch Way You Can
Every Witch Way But Wicked
Witching You Were Here
Witching on a Star
Something to Witch About
Careful What You Witch For (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short)
Wicked Brew (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short)
Witch Me Luck (Summer 2015)
On a Witch and a Prayer (July 2015)
Aisling Grimlock
Grim Tidings (Book One)
Grim Offerings (Book Two)
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Grim Offerings (Aisling Grimlock Book 2) Page 27