He frowned, and I saw that the portal he had created was nearly ready. It was swirling and bubbling with power.
He shrugged. “I’m sorry, lass … how would I know that?” He took my hand. “But I promise ye, we’ll try and find out the truth. All of it.”
I trusted him. I trusted him so very much. I nodded. “Yes, all of it.”
He led me then through the portal, which was like a whirlwind of energy. We stepped inside and held onto each other as it spat us out.
When we landed, I looked at him and said, “Didn’t like that. Next time, let’s use the mirror.”
He chuckled and dropped a light kiss on my lips.
“Where are we?”
“This is my Aunt Deba’s retreat. She is here more often than not, and I am hoping she is here now.”
He turned and, before we took another step, closed the portal with a word and a wave of his hand.
I felt admiration surge through me. The house looked almost like a small English Tudor home. It was beautiful. We walked around to the back, and as I followed him I asked, “Shouldn’t we knock or something?”
No response was needed as I immediately saw a woman who looked to be about thirty but who I already knew, because Brodie had mentioned it earlier, was five hundred years old.
She was tending her herb garden, and as we approached she looked up. I saw that in addition to having soft and lovely features, she was small of statue. Twinkling hazel eyes lit up her face, and she rushed towards Brodie, arms opened wide.
Her voice was low but full of emotion as she cried, “My lad … oh my lad … hurry. Into the house before ye are seen.” Her accent was only slightly Gaelic, not half as thick as Brodie’s.
We followed her into a small sitting room overlooking her garden, and she turned back to us and said, “Sit, sit.”
She then totally stared at me, threw her hand to her heart, and gasped, before she whispered, “Senna.”
She gazed at me as though seeing a ghost, and for a moment both Brodie and I stared back at her before we glanced at each other. His brows were up. My eyes I know were open wide. What was happening here?
I saw tears form in her eyes, and one spilled over and down her cheek before she finally said, “Whist, and bless me, if ye aren’t the spitting image of yer mother.” So saying, she took me into her arms, squeezed me, and then held me at arms’ length to stare at me again.
“Yer mother, Senna, and I were friends for most of our lives.” She waved us to the sofa. “Sit, and I know ye have questions, as do I. The time for secrets is over, I think.”
“You knew my mother?” It was all I could say. Someone knew my mother. I looked like my mother. How deeply that touched me was more than I could express.
“Indeed, long before she met and married yer father. We used to play as children on the plains between Nether Blue and Morelake. We met quite by accident when I was touring with my parents and, bored, wandered off and got a bit lost. Senna found me and led me back to them. My parents were grateful and said she was welcome to visit us always. She, however, was afraid of her father’s reaction to our friendship and kept it secret from him. We had … a like mind, she and I. We were close, so very close.”
“Do you … do you know what happened, why my father never spoke of her in the five years we had together?”
“No, he only said yer mother had died … but I knew better. Are ye saying he never told ye about yer dear mother?” She shook her head. “I suppose it was easier for him.” She bit her bottom lip and added, “Ah, but I wanted to keep more in touch with ye; however, I wasn’t quite welcome in Samuel’s house. He and m’sister Felia fell in love, ye see, and because I was conflicted about it, and voiced my opinions … they cut my connection.”
“Why did you disapprove?” I asked.
She glanced at Brodie and sighed. “M’sister was married to the king. I couldn’t be seen to approve even if I did, and how could I? I never believed yer mother was dead, and I always felt Samuel knew that.” She waved her hands in the air. “Nothing is ever simple—and their lives weren’t simple. But I did feel that Samuel could have made a push to find her.”
“But he thought, as she wanted him to, that she was dead?” I frowned.
“No, he knew better, child, as did I. I believe he took the easy way out.”
Hearing this about my father was not easy, but it had that ring of truth in it I could not ignore.
“Aunt Deba, as you said, their lives were complicated. His wife, even if she were alive, was lost to him. It is not for us to judge,” Brodie admonished.
I looked up at his dear, handsome face. He was trying to spare my feelings, and I adored that about him, but I wanted truth. I always want the truth. “More … if you would … tell me as much as you remember. I want to know everything—good and bad.”
“I knew that Brodie’s mother loved ye and cared for ye in those years she and Samuel were together. I knew she cared about yer safety and well-being. Her circumstances didn’t allow her to live with Samuel, and so she was not always there for ye in those early years … as I said, it was complicated.” She threw up her hands and said, “I suppose I was in the wrong of it. Happiness is something everyone deserves, and by all that is and isn’t, Felia was a good woman and deserved some. Our father served her poorly when he forced her to marry the king. She was never happy in that relationship … though the union produced two fine boys.” She gave Brodie a bright smile. He said nothing, and my heart ached for him when his face took on a bleak look. This all had to be difficult for him to hear.
“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have asked …I do want to hear about them, but we don’t need to talk about this now,” I said. “We aren’t here for that.”
“Well, there are things ye should know now that ye are back in Morelake … for yer own good,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Aye, like those last weeks before yer mother vanished—I say vanished because I have never been and never will be convinced she is dead.”
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“Aye, don’t be getting m’lass’s hopes up, Auntie,” Brodie stuck in. “Ye know Samuel’s wife’s ashes were found—”
“We know ashes were found,” Deba said and sniffed.
“Magic pronounced them to be Samuel’s wife’s ashes,” Brodie said impatiently.
“Magic put those ashes there. I know—I tested it when no one was about. I know the truth, but I didn’t speak of it. What was the point? I knew Senna had to have been desperate for her to fake her own death. I knew she was doing it to protect her child and her husband. It was who she was.” Again Deba sniffed as though insulted that we did not completely take her word. “Besides that, she came to me and said the day would come when her child, her Calico, would need protection. She wanted me to be there for ye, and at first, I was. Then Samuel took up with m’sister … and well, he forbade me from visiting.”
“Protect me from what?”
“From her father, the King of the Fallen,” Aunt Deba said quietly.
“Wait … how long was she married to my father? How did she manage to hide her marriage from her father?” I was so hungry for details—anything that would give me even the smallest peek into her life.
“Senna met your father because of me … and then they married quietly, secretly. She told her father she was taking a sabbatical. It is a learning tradition Fallens do when they reach their majority. He expected her to be gone for a year, as this was the norm for Fallens, especially royals. Senna loved Ireland, and as Fallens have the power of shifting—a mode of transportation that allows them to travel through realms and dimensions—she was able to lead a double life. She leased a house in Ireland, and there she met with Samuel.” Deba sighed heavily. “When my sister became concerned for your safety, she visited with me, and I told her about the house and certain artifacts Senna had left there.”
“A house … the one I am in now …” I muttered and turned to Brodie. He put
his arm around me and pulled me in close. I turned back to Deba. “How did her father find out she was lying?”
“Fallens are intuitive, and their magic is laced with some darkness. As king, his power is enormous. She knew one day she would have to explain herself. But after ye were born, she wanted to keep ye a secret from him and did for a few months. He wanted her home. She went to him and begged him to let her stay with Samuel—with her mate. He was furious and hard-hearted. He gave her an ultimatum. Either she would return to Nether Blue and leave her husband, or he would destroy Samuel. She was afraid he would do as he said and also discover yer existence. It was her plan, she told me, to defy him without endangering Samuel or you. The only way she could do that without Samuel trying to fight for her was to fake her death. She wanted Samuel to move on and thus save her child from her father. A father who despised hybrids, ye see. So she faked her death, and her father was, I think, broken-hearted.”
“Her father must be a beast,” I almost spat the words. He had deprived me of my mother.
“He is hard-hearted, moved by his own heartache. He lost his mate, Senna’s mother, in Morelake … and he believed it was at the hands of a Morelake, many years ago.”
I stared at Deba as a question came to mind. “Who would dare kill a queen, and why?”
“There is a Morelake faction that wants war. There is also a Fallen group that wants war. The queen was killed with a Death Weapon, the only weapon that can kill immortals, and though I have my suspicions, we were never able to find the murderer. We were all thankful that the Fallen King could not be certain it was one of us and did not declare war … but he had Senna then, and we supposed he meant to concentrate on raising her. She was so young. He broke off all relations with Morelakes, and that is how things stand still—precariously.” She waved a fluttery hand and bit her bottom lip before saying, “Ye know, not everything is black and white, dear.”
I had to think about that, because for me some things are, I think. Selfish—being one-sided—is black and white to me.
“Darlin’,” Brodie said. “Your mother was … a princess of her realm. No doubt her father couldn’t see past that when he wanted her to return. Some of the time, a man can’t see past his heartache.”
I had a grandmother who’d been murdered? This was a very violent realm. I sat silently as I digested this. My mother could be alive? She was self-sacrificing … like Lyla had been, like Brodie’s mother.
I hadn’t been able to save Lyla, but I had to at least try to do something to find and save my mother. I had a grandfather who despised me without knowing me because I was a hybrid. How sad for him. How sad for me. I had a grandfather I couldn’t even acknowledge.
I thought of Lyla, who had always taught me to know my own worth. Well, I did. I knew my own worth, my skills, my abilities as a witch, but who was I really? Finding out I was the daughter of a Fallen Angel had changed my inner self in some inexplicable manner. So much had happened since I lost my Lyla. My entire world was diving into an abyss of uncertainties I had never dreamed were possible.
Chapter Ten
TIME WAS A PRECIOUS commodity. I just didn’t have enough of it.
I needed to help Brodie prove he was innocent. That was my first priority. If along the way I could discover more about my mother, that would be a bonus I could investigate further after Brodie was cleared of murdering his father.
Thus, I concentrated on getting the conversation maneuvered back to where it belonged.
“What should we do next for Brodie? How can I help?” I asked Deba.
She patted my hand and then brought us up to date on the situation that had developed at the last Council meeting. She waved her hands about as she spoke, and it was evident she was excited about the possibilities going forward. It seemed the Council had second thoughts about Brodie’s guilt and Tanna’s statement.
Deba knew that Blakely and Tanna were lovers, so she had followed them and made certain one of the other Council members was in tow. The two saw Blakely and Tanna embrace and scurry into a cabin in the woods. They took a magical picture, one that could not be refuted (we witches have our own form of ‘time-stamp’).
This picture was presented at the meeting along with the3-D video of Brodie’s beating at the hands of three of Blakely’s henchmen.
“Jebidiah.” Brodie grinned widely.
“Indeed,” his aunt said, raising a delicate brow.
Brodie grinned and turned to me to say, “Damn if he isn’t up to every rig.”
“I can’t wait to meet this Jebidiah, as I am beginning to love him already,” I told him.
“Eh, no, then I’m not letting him near ye,” Brodie murmured, and though his tone was bantering, his eyes seemed a bit more serious as he wagged a finger at me. “Ye’ll not be loving anyone other than me. That is the way of it.”
I laughed and threw my arms around his waist but then dropped them when I realized his aunt was watching us. I turned to her and felt my cheeks burn, but she smiled softly and took my hands to squeeze them. “Bless ye, child. Do ye think I don’t know a true binding when I see one?” She dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “Enough. There will be plenty of time for that when we are done. Aye then, as ye say, Brodie, Jebidiah has been working tirelessly behind the scenes. More than that, he has further evidence of Blakely and Tanna’s love affair and is at this very moment with yer brother, showing him that evidence.” She sighed. “Not that Francis will hear ill of her. He is besotted with her. But between the pictures I took with a senior Council member, and the note to Blakely in Tanna’s hand that Jebidiah managed to get hold of, Francis is bound to see the way of it.”
I heard footsteps not so far off and realized that I’d heard them before Brodie and Deba did. I must be reaching my majority as a Fallen as well as a Morelake. I needed some guidance with regards to that part of me, but for now we had to run. “They’re here,” I said on a low, hushed note.
A sure and hard pounding commenced, baton to hardwood, and a harsh voice called, “Councilwoman Deba, it is a crime to harbor a fugitive.”
“Now, go,” she whispered. “Blakely is not on the Council, but he is head of security, and until he’s removed, he does have some authority. Quickly, off with you so that I can cloak the residue of your presence. Hurry.” She shooed us off with her hands.
For a moment I was afraid Brodie meant to take a stand because his fists were clenched, as was his mouth. I took his hand and said, “Brodie … we have to go.”
Deba went to the front door, waving her hand for us to leave.
“Come on, we have to go,” I told him. “Think of your aunt.”
Brodie clicked his fingers, and we were enswathed in purple smoke. I could hear Deba chanting in my head. Huh. How was I able to hear her? Had something happened to me when we crossed into this realm together? I hadn’t been aware of it when I entered his prison cell and healed him. Was that other-worldly Calico really my ‘Fallen Angel’ part of me? Was she coming into her own?
I had a great deal to thank Deba for. She had brought my mother to life in my mind. Now I knew something about her—knew that I looked like her, had an image of her in my head. And I knew that my mother could be alive.
I was immortal, and time shouldn’t feel so fleeting, but it did.
We landed on our feet in the middle of what appeared to be a cozy log cabin. The room was small but charmingly furnished, and I looked around and whispered, “What are we doing? We can’t just barge into someone’s home like this. Don’t we need an invitation?”
Brodie laughed. “We aren’t vampires.” He looked around and added, “But, aye, this is very rude of me and not ordinarily something I would do, but Jeb won’t mind.”
He had no sooner finished the sentence than a hearty laugh filled the room.
A huge man, as husky as he was tall, with a shock of unruly ginger-colored hair cut shoulder length, stepped into view. Lumberjack came to mind. He should have been in a checkerboard flannel shirt and
suspenders, holding an axe. Instead, he wore a gray silk T-shirt, jeans, and hiking boots and had as hearty a grin as his laugh.
I saw the hidden panel at his back slip back into place. Magic. Everything here was magic. The witches of our coven back home practiced spells and simple magic. This was all-encompassing. Here magic was a way of life.
I stared; he did the same. Grizzly Adams, mountain man, came to mind—forthright and honest. I liked him on sight. Large, dark eyes surveyed me, traveled leisurely over me and then Brodie.
Apparently Brodie was glaring a warning glance at his friend. With a lift of the brow he said, “Easy there, lad.” Jebidiah then laughed again and said, “How is it even while imprisoned ye found the loveliest woman in all creation?”
“Oh, I like him,” I said and felt a giggle coming on.
Jebidiah didn’t waste any time. He had already linked arms with both of us and said, “Well now, m’fine bucko, it is that pleased I am to see ye.” So saying he dropped my arm and shook Brodie fiercely by his shoulders.
I watched them, so curious, as the two engaged in an age-old ritual men of many realms apparently seem to enjoy. They gave one another a solid punch to the shoulders, slammed their chests together, and burst out laughing.
They turned, grinning like boys, toward me, and I raised a brow—which set them off again. Brodie suddenly turned back to me, reached, caught me, and picked me up, spinning me in a circle before he allowed me to slide down his hard body and plant my feet on the ground.
Now it was my turn to grin, and I did. Then I remembered. We had to formulate a plan to clear Brodie’s name.
“Come on now, there is no time to lose—we have to get ye hidden. Blakely has an ally on the Council, and they have had their heads together. There is no telling what they will be up to.”
Brodie took my hand and led me to what appeared to be a solid wall. Something in my head adjusted itself, and I put out my fingers and felt it—power, immense power.
Brodie stayed me and frowned as he asked his friend, “And what will ye be doing?”
Alphas Unwrapped: 21 New Steamy Paranormal Tales of Shifters, Vampires, Werewolves, Dragons, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More Page 54