“My mom.”
“Oh. That’s sad. I’m sorry.” She was practically on his lap now, but Leif held her closer.
“It would be good to see her again,” he agreed.
“Is she the one who taught you how to treat women?” Tori asked. She couldn’t seem to help herself around Leif. Random questions and observations fell out of her mouth near him. He elicited an intense amount of curiosity. She wanted to find out everything about him and the reasons he said and did the things he did. Her curiosity may be to blame for the reason she let him talk her into flying to the Ukraine in search of Weston.
“Probably. My father is a decent man as well, so she may not get all the credit. But I would never say that to her face.”
Tori’s fear lightened, thinking about Leif and his parents. They obviously did an amazing job with their son.
“Is your dad still alive?” she asked.
“Yes. I should probably call him as soon as we’re on the ground and tell him we arrived safely.”
Yes, they definitely raised a decent guy, she thought.
“I’m adopted,” Leif said. “It was a closed adoption, so I don’t know who my birth parents are. My parents were always honest with me about the entire process. I don’t look like either of them, and I started asking questions at a young age. They offered to help me look for my birth mother and father if I wanted, but I never wanted to find her. If she didn’t want me, or couldn’t take care of me, then I don’t think it’s wise to go looking.”
Leif’s voice soothed Tori’s anxiety and talking about himself distracted her brain. The plane ride smoothed out for the moment, and the lack of aeronautical gymnastics did wonders for Tori’s stomach. The lights came back on. Air moved freely in and out of her chest as she breathed more regularly. Her vision still swam, partly because of the tears but mostly because of the alcohol. She melted into the cushions, listed to one side, pulled her feet up, and ended up with her head on Leif’s lap.
“Keep talking. It’s helping,” she said. The masculine smell of him filled her lungs and settled in her bloodstream like a reassuring hug. “When did your mom cross over?”
“Five years ago. She got sick, and then she was gone.”
“I’m sorry. She must have been a beautiful person.”
“She was. What about your father?”
“He died in a boating accident.” Tori paused letting the words sink in all over again. It never got any easier. Always ripping off some imaginary bandage over a wound that never fully healed. “We’re cursed. The Morgan witches.” Leif shifted on the seat. “It’s not as tragic as it sounds. It’s my reality and the reality of hundreds of years of witches in my family.”
“Cursed? Every time I start to think you might be a fraction normal, you say something that changes my mind again.”
“The word normal doesn’t usually accompany the description of a magic user from a non-magical’s point of view.”
“You could hardly blame us.”
“I don’t,” she said and closed her eyes. “Just another parallel sense of reality in my life. You have your way of doing things, and I have mine. It’s no biggie.”
The warmth of Leif’s arm draped over her side felt like a security blanket. The air turbulence had passed, and the plane returned to rocketing through the night sky on an even keel. Embarrassment should be wracking her with shame, but she was too drunk to give the thought more than a fleeting glimpse. Tomorrow she could beat herself up over her behavior, but right now, she needed to remain relaxed and not stir up any electronic mayhem.
“Does this curse mean you’ll be turned into a snake, or die a virgin? What exactly are we talking about here?” Leif asked.
“I can’t say anything else. It’s a family secret with magical repercussions. And, it’s not your problem.” She couldn’t believe she brought it up at all. Sure, her family and closest female friends knew about her family curse. You couldn’t hang around the Morgans for very long and not realize there are no men in the family. If there were any, they never stayed around for long. Untimely deaths of men associated with Morgan witches could be traced back for five centuries. Yeah, being a man in love with a Morgan was guaranteed to be fatal.
“Sounds interesting. When you’re ready, you’ll tell me.”
“I can’t. Some curses have a code of secrecy,” she said.
Leif moved on without further questions. “I’m sorry about your dad, Tori. I can tell he meant a lot to you.”
“How can you tell?”
“The sadness in your eyes. You have warm eyes and soft lips, but when you mentioned him, you turned cold. Your mouth hardened. I recognize loss.”
Tori opened her eyes and peered up at Leif. He met her gaze for only a second, the pain of remembrance was clear in Leif’s incredible eyes. She turned her face and closed her eyes again. Drunk or not, her empathy felt every emotion passing through him and herself. They shared missing the people who were significant to them.
“He was an amazing man. I loved him. He shouldn’t have fallen in love with my mom.”
“Then you wouldn’t be here,” Leif said.
“Well, at least he would be alive. He was a better person than I am,” she said. The horrible words escaped her before she could hold them in. She’d never admitted that aloud before. And now it was out there and she couldn’t—wouldn’t—take it back. In the back of her mind, she always thought Grant deserved to live more than she did. Her father knew about the curse, and he wouldn’t leave her mother regardless. She should have been more grateful for the time she’d had with him. It was way more than most Morgan daughters had with their fathers. Her mother had worked out a system of sorts that kept Grant protected from the curse for years, but the magic of the curse eventually caught up with him. He drowned for loving her mother, Ivy Morgan. It made Tori sick. Her father shouldn’t have died for love.
“Somehow I doubt that,” Leif said.
“Says the guy babysitting a silly drunk witch, not only once, but twice now. Grant English was definitely more worthy than I am.”
“If he were here, he wouldn’t want to hear his daughter say those things.”
“Well, he’s not here. And I’m the drunk one babbling from the lap of some guy she just met.”
“Right. Well, he might want you to do better, and then again, he might love you just the way you are.”
“We’re getting way too deep in this conversation for my spinning brain. I’m going to sleep now before I have another breakdown and crash this plane on accident.”
“Sleep sounds nice.”
She peeked up again and saw him resting his head with eyes closed. The truth was, the talk of her father and Leif’s sympathetic comments had her emotions stirred up again. The emotional charge could wreak havoc on the electrical systems inside the plane. Another mid-air crisis was the last thing she wanted.
The droning engine and the vibration dulled her senses, or maybe it was the gin. She focused on Leif’s warmth and scent and pretended to be in a cocoon of safety.
Later, when she woke, everything had changed. Silence greeted her, and the feeling of constant movement was gone. She inhaled, filling her lungs to capacity with non-recirculated air, and let out the longest exhale of her life. Tori silently thanked the Goddess for surviving the plane ride.
Chapter Ten
THEY ARRIVED AT the Ivano-Frankivsk International Airport approximately eighteen hours after leaving Portland. Required fuel stops and alternating pilots added time to their journey. They made it safely, despite Tori’s predictions of death.
Tori’s embarrassment over her behavior grew with every waking hour. That is after she woke up while the plane taxied to a gate. Leif rented a car and refused to let Tori foot the bill.
The drive to North Star International Resort near the town of Polyanytsya, Ukraine in the Carpathian Mountains took an additional two hours. By the time they arrived at the resort, they were equally ready to stop moving. Tori paid for two separate r
ooms and promptly went to hide out in hers until she could face herself in the mirror again.
“Let’s forget about the plane ride and focus on our task,” Leif said over a cup of coffee the following morning.
Tori sipped her tea and set her cup on the saucer. “How do you want to do this? I’m not feeling wonderfully well. I’d like to stay close to the resort if possible. I think Weston is here. You saw the images in the scrying bowl. This is definitely the place.”
“The grounds are enormous. It'll take all day to search this place.”
“Then we should split up. I’ll ask around here in the main lodge and the buildings on this side of the property. You can start on the other side of the lake. How does that sound?”
“I may go into town as well if I can’t find him. Are you really not feeling well, or are you still beating yourself up for getting drunk? I didn’t mean it when I said you weren’t pretty.”
Tori tried to keep the rising heat of shame from flooding her face by taking some calming breaths.
“I’m sorry,” she said and stared at her toast.
“Don’t be. You did warn me.”
She heard the smile in his voice and peeked up.
“Don’t sweat it. We’ve all had a moment here or there that we’re not proud of.”
“And I don’t feel the best. The jet lag is horrendous.”
“I definitely agree with that. Let’s get through today. We’ll check back with each other this afternoon. Does your phone work?” Leif asked.
“It does. I made sure of it before we even left. Willow needs to be able to contact me because of my schedule.”
“Same with my staff. Send me a message if you find him, and I’ll do the same.”
She nodded and sipped the herbal tea. The gin had done enough damage, but the jet lag compounded the after effects. She wished she were home where her herbal remedies waited for her.
Leif finished his coffee and set his napkin on the table.
The white linen tablecloths, the aproned wait staff with their starched collars, and the immaculate hotel and grounds exceeded Tori’s expectations. The North Star International Resort was a part of Delana’s non-profit organizations. Tori hardly believed all the amenities this place offered their guests and their employees. It was huge, and beautiful. A winter escape for Europeans in the rugged and vast mountains, yet relatively close to so many of the people North Star International helped since childhood. Tori marveled at what Delana had done with her life. She thought she understood why Weston had chosen to come here.
“Be careful today. We don’t know Weston’s part in this yet. Watch your back is what I’m trying to say.”
“I will. I’m not going to do anything dumb,” she said and doubted herself. The way her life was going lately, she couldn’t guarantee anything.
Leif appeared reluctant to leave.
“I’ll ask around for him a little bit, and if I get a creepy vibe, I’ll go watch Ukranian TV in my room. Okay? I can pick up on the creepy vibe most of the time. Except for Gerard. Not sure why my talents failed me on that one.”
The skepticism and unwillingness to leave furrowed his brow.
“Go. I’ll be fine. Really. I think I just need a nap.”
Leif rose from his chair. “I’ll text you.”
“If you must.” She took a bite of toast, and he finally walked away from the table.
Tori managed to drink the tea and eat a small breakfast. She signed the bill and left the dining hall. She stopped by the restroom before searching for the hotel manager to ask about Weston. In her mind, Tori constructed a plausible story about how Weston was a friend from the States. She’d heard he’d recently moved to the North Star Resort, but had lost his contact information and was wondering if the manager could tell her where he was.
Determined to pull off this ruse without sounding like a fake, she was busy rehearsing the story when a hand like a sheet of hot steel clamped over her mouth and her feet lifted off the floor. Tori bucked and kicked her attacker, but it did no good. He dragged her down the corridor away from the restroom and through a door.
“Tori, stop fighting!” he hissed in her ear.
Like hell she would, she thought and fought for her freedom. Gerard’s attack was still too fresh. She’d never go through that again. Realization struck her a second later that he knew her by name, but that didn’t deter the thrashing about like a feral cat in a trap. She caught a glimpse of his face and stopped struggling. He moved them along a short passageway, opened yet another door and went in. He kicked the door shut behind them. Black velvet veiled her sight. At last, he let go, and she spun around desperate to find a source of light. With a click, the space lit up revealing a storage closet for the hotel linens and uniforms.
“What the bloody hell is this about?” Tori checked herself for damage, but the worst of his assault was only the lingering pressure on her ribcage from being lifted and carried.
“Sorry, Ms. Morgan. I couldn’t risk you saying my name out there.”
“Seriously? You think abducting me from the restroom with your hand over my mouth was less risky?”
“I saw an opportunity, and I took it,” Weston said.
He blocked the door, and a chilling uncertainty regarding her current fate set her nerve endings on fire. An emotional charge akin to electricity raised the hair on the back of her neck. What did he want with her in the closet? She could be face to face with a murderer after all. Tori backed up. The closet held linens and various uniforms for the hotel and restaurant. Maybe she could strangle him with apron strings. Yeah, right. She readied her freezing spell in case he wasn’t harmless after all.
“Why are we inside a closet? And what do you want with me?”
“What do I want? You’re the one looking for me.” He crossed muscular arms over his chest.
“Oh,” she said surprised and rearranged her thinking as fast as she could. “I am looking for you,” she said more matter of fact. “You’re hiding from the police in Portland.”
“Am I?”
“Aren’t you?”
He blinked but otherwise gave nothing away. A pregnant pause took up residence between them. She waited for an answer.
“I had no knowledge of the police wanting to speak to me. What do they want?”
“You’re a bad liar,” she said, even though she was the one lying. His face remained neutral if not a little fierce. The expression he wore matched every other time she ever saw or spoke with him since she met Delana. “You were the last one to see Delana alive. Surveillance tapes show you driving her car near Harbor Bridge and parked in the parking lot at South Bank Park.”
Tori observed closely for any hint of guilt or regret. Weston’s nostrils flared ever so slightly and then returned to normal. The hard shell of his impenetrable aura toughened even more so before he answered.
“Driving Mrs. Smootz’s car was part of my job.”
“Was killing her part of your job, too?”
He flinched. Tori felt it more than saw a physical reaction to her question.
“I did not kill her.”
“Why are you in the Ukraine then? Why are you hiding out in Delana’s resort in the freaking Carpathian Mountains of all places?”
“I do not have to answer these questions. You look at me as if I am a criminal when I did nothing wrong. My name is no longer Weston Kalashnik. Please do not speak that name here. Have a nice stay, Ms. Morgan.”
He turned to leave. She reached out and grabbed his shirt.
“I need to know what happened to her,” Tori said with sudden panic. She’d risked her life to travel to the other side of the world with the hope that Weston, or whatever his name now was, might ease her mental anguish. “Delana and I tried a different treatment the night she died. I can’t live with the knowledge that I may be partly responsible for her death. Anything you can tell me may help. Did you set fire to the house? How did she get below Harbor Bridge without her wheelchair? Why did you leave the
country so quickly?”
“I work here now,” he said without turning. “Are you familiar with this resort?”
“I am. She brought it up that night. She wanted to tell me, so I listened. I’ve thought about everything that’s happened a million times. And I had a hunch you would be here.” She hadn’t told Leif that North Star International Resort was on her mind well before they used scrying to find Weston. If she were wrong, she would look foolish and that was unacceptable.
He turned and unclenched his jaw with visible effort. “The grown children she saved through her foundations can work here and live on the grounds until they reach retirement.”
Tori moved closer to the shelves at her back giving Weston some room. “She was an incredible woman. Her contribution to so many lives is immeasurable.”
“Mrs. Smootz was more than my employer, Ms. Morgan. She found me when I was two years old and saved my life. I was starved and near death. My mother abandoned me at a clinic in Kiev because I was ill. Mrs. Smootz paid for my medical care and adopted me. I owe her everything.”
“I had no idea.” Tori’s emotions swelled. She knew Delana’s foundation rescued unwanted children and provided medical care and adoptions for thousands of them. She hadn't realized Delana had adoptive children of her own. It made sense of course, but she’d never heard any names.
“No. You wouldn’t. I never told anyone. You did nothing to cause her passing, and she was grateful for your assistance more than you are apparently aware of.”
Tori thought back to that night, replaying every minute in her mind. She never would have thought there would be any ill effects of the potions and the spells, but accidents happened. “You say I didn’t have anything to do with her crossing over but what if I accidentally did?”
“You need to clear your head of these doubts. Mrs. Smootz would not want you to think these things.”
His calm assertion of Delana’s wishes only helped a smidgeon. She still wanted concrete evidence. “Were you with her, at the end, I mean?” Tori heard the pleading in her voice, but she didn’t care. The emotions seemed to help Weston open up to her.
A Witch's Fate: Witches of Lane County Page 12