“They’re only trying to keep you safe.” I wrapped her in a tight hug, one in which my arms refused to let go. Not only did my aunt still appear fond of me—my paranoia during the commute over had been concerned it would be otherwise—but there was a pre-Phillip spark back to glinting in her familiar eyes. I gave Aunt Kate a reassuring grin. “They’re good people. Don’t worry.”
“I’m bein’ held hostage at a house belongin’ to a coven.” Aunt Kate stepped back. “Why are a group of witches tryin’ to protect me? From what?”
I took a seat at the edge of the bed and tugged my aunt down beside me. “Phillip’s a Warlock, and he’s had you under a compulsion spell.”
“What?” She reared back. “No, we’re to marry. He loves…”
Her brow furrowed and I handed her the box Andrew had given me days before. “This is why you were sent out of town without a phone. We were trying to prevent communication with him so his power over you would lessen.”
Aunt Kate opened the box. “This is nuummite.”
“Do you know what it is?”
Her eyes snapped up to meet my gaze. “I might be a lousy witch, young one, but I’m not stupid.”
Holding my hands up, palms outward, I said, “Nowhere have I ever implied such a thing.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry… but why?”
The wounded look on my aunt’s normally cheerful face tore at me, and I understood what she asked. “It’s because of me. Phillip’s coven was searching for the prophecy, and he used you to learn more about me.”
“What happens now?”
“Now?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Detective Ross has found a woman who can protect me.” Biting back the bitterness over what my protection had thus far entailed, I continued. “Someone is out killing any woman who could potentially be this chosen one.”
Aunt Kate gasped. “Then you’re stayin’ right here with me, young one.”
“I can’t do that—”
“Oh yes, ya can.” Aunt Kate squeezed my hands. “I’ll not be allowin’ any harm to come to your head.”
“What I need you to do is stay here. Stay safe. I don’t want Phillip coming near you.”
“But—”
“No buts, Aunt Kate,” I said. “I am the one destined to defeat Hell, and I think I understand why. Satan is trying to change the portal to Earth.”
“Now why would he do that?”
“If I understand correctly, the vortex between the planes flows in a directional way that prevents demons from stepping onto the Earth’s plane of existence without first being grounded. Like a vampire demon living inside an undead human, or other demons possessing humans. Or even those of us who are partially demon but also partially human. Satan wants the vortex to change directional flow. No pure demon can live on Earth at this time.”
“What would happen if he gets his way?”
“He plans to make Earth the new Hell… I think. What I don’t know is why.”
Aunt Kate sat back, looking pensive. “That part we need to be figurin’ out.”
“I agree, and we also need to understand more about the why behind this prophecy.” I reached down and grabbed my purse from where I’d dropped it on the floor. “Why was it our family to issue the prophecy and also be destined to fulfill it? What led to the start of this? What happened to Aerowen?”
“Those are questions I not be knowin’ the answer to.”
Pulling out a withered book from my bag, I handed it over. “Grandma Maura’s journal.”
Eyes were lit in excitement as Aunt Kate made a grab for it. Her hands slowing only at the last second as she took into consideration the book’s age. Gently, she tugged it out of my grasp and clutched it to her chest. “I never thought I’d be seein’ it again.”
“Now we need it fully translated,” I said. “Did you know there are seven princes of Hell that I must defeat?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Ya never wanted to listen.”
“Well, I’m listening now, so start talking.”
“Kiara, as I told ya before, my mam kept quiet about her research. I don’t know if she feared we’d all think her a nut or what, but I don’t know a lot.”
“We need the journal translated into English.”
Aunt Kate’s head nodded. “Mam never went back to Ireland to search out a professor or scholar who could translate it. She was insistent on doin’ it herself. Sometimes I think it’s because she and my da were runnin’ from somethin’ and they wanted all ties cut to the mother country. I have no knowledge of any relatives we might have in Ireland. Mam never spoke about family or her life growin’ up there. Perhaps I can go to Ireland myself, or… There was a man I met last spring who may be of help. American, but he’s a scholar of languages and claimed to know a bit of Old Irish. I have his number somewhere.”
Grinning, I gave her a sly look. “You have a three hundred page book of men’s phone numbers. You could start your own directory. Unless you tossed them out after meeting Phillip?”
“So that was all a lie?” Aunt Kate stared down at her lap. “Him wantin’ to marry me?”
I sobered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to joke. What do you remember about the last few weeks?”
“Only that I was depressed if I wasn’t in his presence or seekin’ his approval. And that he wanted to know everythin’ about ya and our family.” She glanced up. “That should’ve been a red flag, shouldn’t it have?”
“Don’t think that way.” Squeezing her shoulder, I forced her gaze back to mine. “Phillip’s part of The Thirteen.”
The dejected looking woman stiffened as a red flush tinged her cheeks. “And to think I planned to marry that bastard?”
Good to know my aunt knew of the coven in question. No explanations required.
Aunt Kate stood and walked over to her purse, which was sitting on a table near the window where she’d previously planned her escape. Reaching inside, she pulled out a knife with a wicked blade.
“I’m not going to ask where you got that,” I said, “but what are you planning to do with it?”
“Dig out the bastard’s black heart.”
No question about which side of the family I took after. Carefully approaching her, I removed the knife from her hand. “No doubt Phillip’s evil enough to warrant death, but we can’t go around killing people.”
“Look at this as me preventin’ innocent lives from bein’ lost.”
“Do you know if he’s killed?”
“No, but…” Uncertainty flicked in the depth of her eyes. “I can at least stop him from breakin’ other women’s hearts.”
Damn… if that man had been standing in front of me, I’d shove the blade into his chest myself. As I was about to lean forward and offer a comforting hug, a soft knock sounded on the bedroom door before it opened. Wilcox poked his head in.
His gaze settled first on the knife, then me, and then back to the knife. “Who are you planning to kill now?”
I wasn’t certain if my narrowed eyes translated into It’s about to be you, but with the speed in which his head disappeared from between the narrow gap in the door and frame, it might have given him a hint.
Saturday. The day after the one that had never ended… except it had. Finally. Friday ended, that was. Now the clock was ticking as I sat at my cramped dining room table with a pen in hand while creating a new list. Trashae sat across from me using my spotty cheaper-than-dirt Wi-Fi connection to type away on her brand spankin’ new computer that I eyed in envy. Wilcox had made himself comfy on my couch with a beer in hand while watching a college football game.
When I wasn’t glancing at the computer that had put me into a silent dispute with Checking Account over need status of such an expensive item, I was sneaking peeks at Wilcox and enjoying the detail of how well his chest filled out a Henley. It was on the rare occasion that I saw the man out of a business suit, but Eyes were a hundred percent content with their cu
rrent view. Scribbling a note beside the number one on my page, I slid the paper across the table to Trashae.
“What’s this?” she asked, looking up.
“I find things can be more productive if you have a list,” I said. “I thought to help you start one of your own.”
“Make Hadley Kiara’s best friend again before I see what a flaming sword looks like in person,” she read.
I grinned.
“Kiara’s not going to send you to Hell,” Wilcox said without even glancing away from the television screen. “She’s only going to enjoy visualizing it for a while.”
My smile dropped. “How do you know? You seemed leery of me last night.”
“I wasn’t worried because you’re not that sort of person. You shooed a spider out of your living room the other afternoon instead of stepping on it.”
“Only because it wasn’t a brown recluse.” Okay, okay. Wilcox was correct. I stopped fingering the hilt of the sword currently propped against the leg of my chair.
“Kiara,” Trashae said. “You have to understand that I’m trying to figure out a solution. I can’t undo what I did. Unfortunately, it isn’t that simple. If I make another alteration, there will be another consequence.”
“There has to be something that can be done.” Grabbing another sheet of paper, I began writing a second list. This one for me. “Can’t you try and see what happens?”
“Do you really want to risk it? Something worse could happen to you.”
“I’m not certain there are worse things.”
“What about your Aunt Kate? You were desperate to see her last night,” Trashae added, and then glanced toward the couch. “And Ty over there?”
I turned to face Wilcox, who’d finally torn his gaze away from the game upon hearing the question. He stared at me with guarded eyes. My mouth dried as the question continued replaying itself inside my mind. I hadn’t known Wilcox a full two months. Hell, we hadn’t even had our first date… but I was already feeling rather attached to the man—even during those times when I wanted nothing more than to throttle him. I spun back to face the woman seated across from me. “No, I don’t want to take any more chances.”
She nodded. “Look, powers like mine are rare. I’ve heard of only one other person having this ability, a man living in Spain. I’m trying to contact him to see if he has any ideas about how to resolve this without additional changes.”
“You’ve never before had to adjust an alteration back?”
“Never had the need. Usually, the negative energy that’s changed to positive is an asset to my client. You’re the first person I’ve worked with who has had something go so terribly wrong. I expected the coven to have been the most negative thing impacting your life at this time. In order to try again, there must be another positive to alter, and I’ve already taken on the least significant thing you had… the manipulation of your job. What else would you like to risk?”
My brows rose at the comment. I shouldn’t be surprised. Luck had taken off for the Bahamas weeks ago, returning only for brief, sporadic visits to taunt me. She’d long ago moved to the Dark Side. I was purchasing her a Death Star for Christmas… trying for the enemies closer part of that whole Keep your friends… bit. Providing Luck the ability to destroy an entire planet ought to do the trick of improving our relationship status.
“You know, Kiara,” Trashae continued, “you don’t actually need me for protection.”
“Tell him that,” I said, nodding toward the man who was now leaning forward with a beer bottle clenched tightly in hand while yelling at the television screen. His chosen team not on the winning side by my guess.
“Andrew, and I’m sure Ty, are only concerned since your powers haven’t fully developed.”
“What do you mean? There aren’t many abilities I have. Tearing a door off its hinges and seeing brief snippets of the future is about it.”
A sharp peal exploded out of Trashae. A mixture of both laughter and a sigh. “You are an Ancient Druid, Kiara. You can draw strong magic from this earth. And, as a partial demon, you can pull from the powers of Hell. You will be a very powerful being once you learn how to harness your power. This is why so many want you dead.”
I stared for a moment. Eyelids may have blinked. Or perhaps not. Then my frustration was shoved aside as stunned surprise settled in. “Who exactly can teach me these powers?”
“You can.”
The woman was crazy. Certifiable. An absolute nut.
“Ancient Druids?” I asked. “Why do you think I’m one? I don’t know anything about the Celts, or their mythology, but I wouldn’t think it possible for me to be part of a group described as ancient. I mean, I’m very much living in the present and all.”
“Study your history.” Trashae leaned forward with a stern expression. “The Druids believed in reincarnation. Kiara, it’s possible that you may very well be Aerowen.”
I thought I was stunned before? Now I was absolutely speechless.
“That’s a long time period between reincarnations. Is it possible?” Wilcox asked from the couch. “I mean, were talking…”
“Roman times,” Trashae said. “Anything is possible to fulfill the prophecy.”
“Why now?” I asked. “What makes it so important for this to happen?”
“I don’t know, but you need to learn. Your studies into your ancestors and Fate is sorely lacking.” Her cell phone chirped, and she gave it a glance. “I have to leave, but I’ll be back shortly.”
Trashae was gone. Despite having known the woman for only twenty-four hours, I’d learned that she moved fast when wanting to disappear. Had I not previously seen Trashae standing in sunlight, I’d think she was part vampire.
“Where does she go?” I asked, dragging out my clunker of a laptop. A sad and pathetic version of Trashae’s sleek new one.
“To speak with Tristan, probably,” Wilcox said. “They’re trying to figure out The Thirteen’s motives.”
“She should alter reality to where they don’t exist. Problem solved.”
“And the consequences?” Wilcox glanced at me. Probably only because there was a commercial on. “Trashae uses her powers sparingly. You now understand what can happen if they’re abused.”
I conceded with a look—the one that silently implied you’re right, but Hell will freeze over before I admit it—before focusing full attention on my computer screen and pulling up my favorite Internet search engine. Ten minutes later, inspiration struck.
“Hey, do you want to go out tonight?”
Wilcox looked over at me—and this time the game was still on the clock. His eyebrows raised. “Are you asking me on a date?”
Heat flushed my cheeks. “Well, you haven’t exactly gotten around to asking me.”
“I was waiting for the perfect moment.” Clearing his throat, he sank a little deeper into the cushions. The man wore sheepishness quite well. “What did you have in mind?”
“A black-tie charity event.”
Wilcox sat up straight. “You really want to spend an evening watching rich people bid on auctions? Wait… who is hosting this event?”
“The Irish Cultural Association.”
“Kiara, please don’t tell me you’re searching for whoever is behind the suicides.”
“No, I’m not,” I said honestly. “I’m trying to locate the next victim so I can save her before she’s dead. And will you please stop rubbing your head?”
“You give me headaches.”
“But in a good way, right?”
He stared at me.
“Well, I’m attending tonight’s event. Tickets are only required for the dinner portion. There will be open auctions and dancing until midnight.” I stood and pulled out my he-so-won’t-back-out-of-this-now card. “Ty Wilcox, will you do me the honor of attending as my date, or do I need to ask Tristan?”
“I’ll pick you up at eight.”
I smiled.
Chapter 10
Standing frozen in my
doorway, I did nothing more than stare. Mouth gaped large enough for a bird nest to settle between my jaws because when Wilcox had left a couple of hours earlier to return home and change, I’d thought nothing of it. But now? Now…
“You own a tux?” I asked.
“Of course.” A devilish grin formed on perfect lips. The man looked sinfully wicked, 007 worthy. If Daniel Craig really had retired from the Bond movies, casting would be stupid to not sign on Wilcox, providing the detective could pull off a British accent, of course. Gotta have the accent. Well, considering James Bond was English, that was a given.
“Do you plan on leaving me standing out here at the mercy of your crazy neighbor?”
“At least you acknowledge the woman’s insanity.” I stepped back, allowing the detective to enter.
“The entire precinct is well aware,” Wilcox said. “Dice is rolled to determine the unlucky responding officer whenever a call from Mrs. Tidwell comes in.”
I’d suspected as much. “How much would Officer Menendez hate me should I accidentally slip to Mrs. Tidwell that he was the only cop capable of taking out the bandana-wearing man?”
“You are pure evil, but I might encourage it next week if he wipes me out at poker again.” His dark eyes flicked down my body before finally settling on my face. “Ready to leave?”
He’d seen me in the dress before. I owned exactly one item of clothing worthy of the upper class. Still, I preened when catching the heat in his gaze that apparently hadn’t dimmed even a flicker since he’d last eyed me wearing the outfit.
“Yes.”
Wilcox held out his arm, which I happily took, but we didn’t move. Not an inch. As if our feet were planted into the cheap, ugly carpet. Well, his feet anyway. Mine were quite willing to run.
“Are we leaving?” I asked.
“In a moment,” he said. “After you divulge your plans for this evening.”
“That’s an interesting word choice, Detective. Divulge. It sounds a bit suggestive.”
“Is this your method of distraction, Ms. Blake?”
“Is it working?” The facial expression that flashed across his features made my shoulders hunch. “What if the word salacious was used?”
Destined to Reap (Reaping Fate Book 3) Page 11