A Witch's Fate: Witches of Lane County

by Jody A. Kessler

  “I had to honor Madeleine’s need to be a wife. By sacrificing a corvid’s life. Its heart will be given beneath the waning moon. In the month of Taurus, and beyond the sandy dunes. At the edge of the shore of the deepest sea. Where the depths of love stretch to infinity. Let the tears of lost love crash over the stars…”

  A moan interrupted what was clearly the words to a spell. Tori strained her ears trying to hear every syllable. It wasn’t a spell she was familiar with and the mystery of it enthralled her.

  Comforting murmurs came from Rook. “Shh…You’re alright. You did it, darling. You broke the family curse, and we’ll be married as soon as you want. You never have to think one more thought about your scorned grandmother Madeleine ever again.”

  Tori’s brain raced to put the few facts she had together. Realization smacked her like a wrecking ball. Her knees wobbled, and she nearly fell. The stair railing gave her something solid to hold onto. Their family curse was no more? …But? What! Why didn't Aspen tell her that was what she was working on tonight? A five-hundred-year-old curse couldn’t just be broken on a whim! Aspen’s own mother, Aurora, died trying to break the curse… or so everyone assumed. No one saw what happened to Aurora on that horrible night, but every Morgan knew in their heart, what Aurora had attempted, and failed at. Aspen did it! Tori touched the bedroom door, intending to march in and find out if it were true. Then she stopped.

  “Rook?” Aspen’s voice sounded more like herself, but with a touch of panic.

  “I’m here.”

  “I was dreaming.”

  “I know, darling. You talk in your sleep.”

  “Oh. The curse… My head hurts.”

  “You’re banged up and a little worse for it.”

  “I feel terrible.”

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  Tori heard the snort come from Aspen.

  “Do you need anything, love?” Rook asked.

  “I need to thank you,” Aspen said.

  “Oh, well then, that’s not a requirement. I like nearly drowning. At night. In the freezing ocean. Actually, darling,” as if considering something he hadn’t thought of before. “You can thank me.”

  “I meant, just to tell you thank you for helping me. Breaking the family curse would not have been possible if it weren’t for you.”

  “I gathered that intel on my own.”

  “You’re amazing. I love you more than I can say. I had to start the spell breaking in secret. Forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. But I want more from you than gratitude.”

  “Is that so?” Aspen sounded completely exhausted. Her throat was scratchy and weak, but nonetheless, Tori heard the teasing and playfulness in her strained voice.

  “I want you to be my wife so I can love you and take care of you every day that I have left on this planet. I want you to share your heart, mind, and soul with me. And I promise to do the same.”

  “I love you, Rook. I’ll give you everything you’ve asked for and more.”

  Tori backed away. She’d already listened to too much, but the vows and promises they made to each other were doing something to her that she couldn’t put into words. Love like Aspen and Rook’s was a fairy tale in her mind. Pure fantasy. She had always scoffed and ridiculed any such feelings or show of emotion. Devotion and commitment rang as foreign as Bengalese—okay, Bengalese probably wasn’t a real language. She didn’t know… just like she didn’t know anything about planning a future with someone. The wedding curse on their family ruled every decision she ever made when it came to her love life. It wasn't only her own past with boyfriends that was affected. Her parents suffered the consequences. Her many times great-grandmother’s decision to curse the Morgan witches killed her father. It killed her Aunt Aurora and Uncle Heath, Aspen’s parents. The repeated tragedies in their family tree were an epic tale of horrible sadness for five centuries. Tori had no delusions about her place in the world of marriage and procreation. It would never happen. She wouldn’t allow it. Except suddenly, everything she believed in, forced herself to live with, no longer held true.

  Rook found Tori on the top step of the staircase.

  “You could have come in,” he said.

  He passed Tori going down and then stopped and turned, so he stood eye to eye with her.

  “I’m okay out here. It sounded like you two needed a moment of privacy.”

  A kind smile softened an appealing mouth and warmed his eyes. He neither agreed nor denied her statement. “I could use a sandwich and some tea. Would you like anything from downstairs?” he asked with that incredible accent of his.

  “No, thank you. Is Aspen still awake?”

  “She fell asleep again.”

  “Is the head wound causing her to talk in her sleep?”

  “I think so. She doesn’t normally do that.” Rook took the next riser down.

  “Are you going to marry my cousin?” Tori asked. She wanted to see his face.

  “If she’ll have me.”

  “And you understand how significant marrying a Morgan witch is?”

  “I’ve been told most of the story now. Aspen couldn’t talk about it before the curse was broken.”

  Long lashes outlined his intriguing eyes. She noticed the pinch of exhaustion and stress lines. The red-tinged whites of his eyes showed how tired he was, but what stood out most to Tori was his depth of feeling when he spoke of Aspen. He loved her. Not the shallow, fleeting type, or straight physical lust. Rook cared to the marrow of his bones. Tori looked away, seeing the stairwell past Rook, and yet not seeing anything in focus.

  “Yeah, the spell was pretty messed up that way. Forced silence for five hundred years. The witches in my family can really screw someone over when they want to,” she said, returning to her tried and true M.O. of cynicism and sarcasm. “Better look out if you’re joining this coven willingly.”

  “I’ll watch my back.” A lazy half grin lifted one side of his wide mouth before he trotted down the stairs.

  Tori gathered herself together and entered Aspen’s room. As Rook said, her cousin slept. Her thoughts reeled nonstop and became a numbing blur to the point of mental oblivion. Ivy entered sometime later and told Tori to go to bed. She accepted her mother’s suggestion and pried herself out of the chair next to Aspen’s bed. Tori went to her room on the second floor and crawled beneath the covers. In all her life, closing her eyes never appealed so highly.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “THANKS FOR MEETING me here,” Tori said. She sat inside Leif’s SUV at a park down the street from her loft.

  “I’m glad you called. You shouldn’t go home alone until someone does a safety check.”

  “Which is why we’re sitting here instead of at my building.”

  “It’s a smart move. There might be hope for you after all,” he said, straight-faced.

  “Geez. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Anytime, sweets.”

  Tori rolled her eyes, narrowed her gaze at Leif, and held back the irritated smile. The smile managed to peek through anyway. She loved his teasing, and the sly grin on his beautifully sculpted lips told her he was only joking.

  “Should we include Breck in this search?”

  “I didn’t think you would want him to join us. What about Willow? Is she meeting us?”

  “You’re right. I don’t want Breck here unless you think we need him. And I asked Willow to stay away for a little longer. The last time we went home, she was in too much danger. I can’t let that happen again. It’s not her fault I found a psychopath and thought it was alright to date him.”

  “Try not to blame yourself. It’s hard not to. Believe me, I know firsthand, but Gerard’s mental problems aren’t your fault. They never were and never will be.” Leif stared ahead in the direction of the playground.

  Mid-afternoon, on a school day, no children played at the small park. A jogger passed a man walking his dog, but otherwise, they were alone.

  “
Just like Brittany’s decisions weren’t yours.”

  “Yep,” Leif said.

  “I blame myself for exposing Willow and Skyler to Gerard, and you blame yourself for trusting her and letting her into your life.”

  “Sums it up,” Leif said again.

  “We need to work on ourselves,” she stated.

  He inhaled, his chest expanding beneath his olive green T-shirt, and let it out slowly. “I’m getting there.”

  “Then you’re steps ahead of me,” she said.

  His chin bobbed in acknowledgment of her admission. “Ready to take a look?”

  “Ready as ever. Not really, though.”

  Leif slid her the side eye and then started the engine.

  No unwanted surprises waited on her doorstep. That was at least something positive, she decided.

  “What’s that?” The skepticism was plain on Leif’s face as he stared at Tori’s knife.

  The magical blade remained steady and silent as they approached the apartment. “Willow made me a safety gauge.”

  One eyebrow lifted in question. “It gauges your level of safety?”

  “The tip of the knife will point toward danger directed at me,” she said.

  “Hmm,” he said, refraining from voicing any other opinion.

  “There’s nothing to fear out here,” she said, and the locks on her door unlatched upon recognition of Tori’s arrival.

  The loft apartment seemed exactly the same as the last time she and Leif were inside. The scrying bowl sat on the counter where she left it, and nothing was out of place. Tori liked modern, clean lines. The dark stained wood floors, cabinets, and end tables contrasted with her choices of soft textures in white and shades of gray. She used color sparingly. A little aqua here or pale green there. Her home was a sanctuary and made Gerard’s intrusion that much worse on her psyche.

  “My knife is quiet. So far, so good.”

  “It speaks too?” he asked.

  “No, it hums.”

  The pointed look at his handgun didn’t escape her notice. Leif stepped around Tori and began searching every inch of the apartment. She stayed by his side looking for anything out of place, but there was nothing unusual. Her phone buzzed, and she checked a text message from Willow.

  Willow: Sitting in my car outside. Can I go home yet?

  Tori set the knife down on the side table and texted Willow back. We’re almost done. Come up, and we’ll check your place next.

  Willow: Sweet. I didn’t think G. could get past our protection spells.

  Tori followed Leif up the stairs to her bedroom. He stopped short on the staircase, blocking the last few steps.

  “Do you see something?” she asked.

  “Was your room like this when you left?”

  She peered around Leif at the open loft space she used for her bedroom. Her closet door hung open. Clothes were strewn across the bed. The bathroom light was on. Tori placed her hand on his back and edged around him.

  “I’m pretty sure this is how I left it. I was in a hurry to get out of here.”

  Their footsteps echoed against the wood floor as they finished inspecting the closet and bathroom.

  “The rest of your apartment is so tidy. No clutter and everything seems to have its place. This room looked out of sorts.”

  “That’s one way to say it’s a mess.”

  “I wouldn’t say that out loud. Not to a woman in her own home.” Leif stood before the painting and stopped moving.

  “There might be hope for you too,” she said, mirroring his earlier statement when they were at the park.

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” he murmured.

  Leif continued to stare at the painting of the Pacific with her family home overlooking the sea and her father’s boat in the distance. Tori kept a stealthy eye on him as she cleaned off her bed. Were his paranormal investigative skills kicking in? Did he suspect there might be a room behind the painting? She didn’t plan on showing Leif her private sanctuary. No one was allowed access, and she was sure Gerard hadn’t been inside. The painting would alert her.

  All suspicions were extinguished when he remarked, “You’re lucky to have so much history and a family that cares about you. To know where you’re from is a privilege not given to everyone. And this place,” He stared at the house in the painting. “It’s special.”

  She remembered him telling her he was adopted and never knew his birth parents. How opposite they were in that way. The Morgan witches could be traced back hundreds of years and probably farther if someone cared to look. She didn't give her ancestry much thought other than the ever-present knowledge of being a witch in a well-known magical family full of women. Every Morgan ever born since Madeleine's curse had been a female. Her curse, which was no longer her curse to bear, guaranteed baby girls. Her “history” that Leif thought of as a gift was never anything positive in her mind.

  Tori joined Leif in front of the painting. “I spent many nights staring out my window.” She pointed at the north-facing window on the second floor. “I used to imagine what it’d be like to be part of a normal family. I didn’t want my magic. I wanted parents that were married and lived together. I wanted grandparents that invited us over for dinner. Shopping trips that didn’t involve hours of staring at plants, or buying crystals during the full moon. I don’t wish for a different life anymore. I could have had it much worse, but that painting isn’t as perfect as it looks.”

  “You’re right. The pasture’s always greener on the other side of the fence. And you’re still lucky.”

  “And so were you.”

  “I was. I am,” he amended. “You’re changing my perspective on the world, Tori. I didn’t expect that.”

  She glanced up at him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the painting. “You’re making me examine parts of my life that I didn’t want to look at.”

  “We’re either horrible for each other, or we’re…” He trailed off without finishing his thought.

  “F.T.F?” she suggested with a coy smile.

  He glanced over and down at her low-cut top and then back up. “Friends that fu—”

  “Friends that fight,” she cut in before he could finish.

  “That’s not what I thought F.T.F meant.”

  Her grin spread. “It could be the other definition as well.”

  “But not until after you tell me the truth about Delana. That’s the agreement we made, and I'm sticking to it. No matter how tempting that top of yours is,” Leif said, looking unamused with her flirting.

  “This top?” She shimmied her breasts beneath the loosely draped silk. “What do you want to do to it?”

  She took his hand and placed it on her midriff. The silk caught on the slightest bit of rough skin on his finger. The cool silk heated instantly with his touch. Her skin warmed, and a yearning for him spread like wildfire in her abdomen.

  He sucked in a breath. “I want to rip it off you,” he said through his teeth. He turned, so he stood toe to toe in front of her. His fingers clenched the pastel silk. “I want to feel your skin beneath this damned shirt, first with my palms and then with my mouth.”

  Blood zinged through her veins with his intensity. Damned if he didn’t turn her on every time they were together. He could be thoughtful and understanding one minute and exude raw male power in the next. It drove her crazy with desire.

  “Friends don’t rip each other’s clothes off, do they?” she teased.

  “I don’t think I can be just friends with you.”

  Her heart beat faster. Nerves jangled. She heard something of this sort before with past male friends who wanted a commitment from her. It was something she never gave, and it scared the piss out of her to consider it now. Would he be worth it?

  “I thought I could try, but it would be impossible for me to share you.”

  “I can’t…”

  “Don’t answer. Don't say anything because it doesn’t matter. We have to get through tonight first.” He uncurled his fingers and gave
her the space they both needed.

  “Tonight. Right,” she said. “After our little get-together, your view on the world may flip-flop, and you might not want to speak to me ever again.”

  His jaw hardened, and he dropped his gaze. “Let’s see how it goes. Then we’ll figure out the rest.”

  * * * *

  “We’re all set up,” Afton said.

  “Full spectrum on the video?” Leif asked.

  “Of course. Plus a backup digital recorder and the extra video feed and two thermometers in case of temperature fluctuations,” Afton added. “You sure your friends don’t mind if we record the séance?”

  “She said to go for it.” Leif glanced at the door and wondered what was taking Tori and Willow so long.

  They said they needed a few items from Tori’s apartment and would be back in five minutes. It’d easily been thirty already. Tori informed him earlier that Willow volunteered her space to host the meeting with members of the undead. He knew Tori didn’t want strangers in her apartment, and he respected her sense of privacy. Willow’s loft apartment resembled Tori’s with the same open floor plan and a hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathrooms. The biggest difference was the missing upstairs bedroom, which decreased Willow’s square footage considerably. The block of time allowed Afton to set up all the equipment without having too many bodies to work around. It might be for the best that they’d made themselves scarce.

  “Women,” Breck said without further comment. He noticed Leif staring at the door. “You can’t rush them.”

  And then they entered, smiling conspiratorially, and in Leif’s mind, cooking up some grand scheme. Willow’s living room had been transformed into a candle laden, metaphysical cliché. He tried his best to turn down his inner pessimist, but the strategically placed candles, crystals, and other tools of Tori’s craft rubbed him the wrong way. He wasn’t entirely sure why it bothered him. The silk scarves, feathers, smelly plants, and symbols of the moon, planets, and stars made the room feel like a bad movie set. They brought more paraphernalia and set the items down on the end table. He held back a groan.