She had a pair of red stilettos, adding more height to her already tall slender frame. There was a time when Colt had thought he was in love with her. There was no doubt she was a beautiful woman but he soon discovered it was just infatuation because of their bond. She never viewed him as anything other than her companion, in fact in all the years he had known her he hadn’t seen her romantically involved with anyone.
She had never mistreated him, which was a blessing considering how wicked and cruel he had seen her become if threatened. He had seen her bring powerful familiars to their knees with a few words spoken.
He was her familiar and she was a powerful Celtic witch, known to some as Cailleach. They had an understanding; she wouldn’t get in his business unless he was in a life-threatening situation and vice versa. This was the most time he had spent with her in a long time, they normally met up every month to sort out business and practice their magic. They had found Clara on one of their meetings.
“I don’t have a lifetime, Colt.” Heather’s sharp tone shook him out of his trance. Fuck. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He was still exhausted; the last few days had taken their toll on his body. He wasn’t used to transforming as much as he had this week.
Last night had been a shock to his system; the turn had been more violent than he’d ever experienced before. Clara didn’t realise it yet but when she learnt how to use her magic properly she was going to be a force to be reckoned with, a force even Heather wouldn’t be able to compete with.
He made his way back to his room taking the stairs two at a time. He didn’t want to wake her; she looked so comfortable lying there all curled up in his big bed, all ruffled from their lovemaking.
He sat on the edge of the bed and leant over, pushing her auburn hair back off her face. “Hey, beautiful.” She stirs and opens her gorgeous green eyes. She stretches and the cover slips, exposing her rosy pink nipples. He fights the urge to take one in his mouth.
“Hey.” She rises to a sitting po sition, covering herself. She looks at the clock. “Wow, I slept in again, sorry. Is everything alright?” Her hand caresses his cheek, a frown appearing on her perfect face.
He’s wasn’t dealing with Heather’s unannounced arrival too well; his inner turmoil must be evident on his face.
“Not really, beautiful, we’ve got a visitor,” he says. “A visitor? Who?” she asks.
“It’s Heather, she’s demanding to see you.”
She looks at him for a few seconds, a million and one questions in her eyes. Then her brow furrows and she looks pissed; the air changes.
“Tell her I’ll be down when I am ready. Who the hell does she think she is? I am not her fucking familiar.” Clara was even more sexy when she was wound up, but that last remark stung a bit.
“Ouch, baby, you wound me.” He places his hand on his heart in a mock gesture.
“I am sorry, Colt, I know you don’t have a choice. I read the journal. I know how your bond works. Sorry, I am just annoyed that she turns up here expecting me to come when she clicks her fingers... Well fuck her, Colt,” she spits with venom.
God, she was hot. “You’re making me hard with this feisty side to you, Clara. Can feisty Clara come out to play later?”
Her anger lifts and she starts laughing. The air clears; her giggle was infectious and the best sound in the world.
“Maybe.” She gave him a sexy ‘come to bed’ smile as she pushed the covers off herself and sauntered to the bathroom. He watched her beautiful ass sway sexily, before she closed the door on him. He adjusted his cock which was now uncomfortably hard in his jeans.
I’m fucked. Heather was sitting at the table when he entered the kitchen, tapping her perfectly manicured red fingernails on the wood.
“Where is she? I thought I told you to get her,” she snarls at him. Bitch.
“She said she’ll be down when she’s ready and not before.” Heather’s response shocks Colt when she threw her head back and belly laughed until tears were rolling down her face. He thought she had lost the plot for a minute.
“So, our little Clara has some balls,” she said, wiping her tears away. “Oh, don’t look so angry, wolf boy. Come, sit, tell me everything about the conjuring last night.”
“How did you...?”
“I know everything, you should realise this by now. How long have we worked together? Ten years?” “Yeah, alright, you got me, it’s as you thought.” “Wonderful... Oh, Colt, that’s the best news. See? I told you she was special.” Colt was taken aback by Heather’s reaction. A natural smile lit up her whole face; he was sure he even saw her start to well up for a second. No. He had to be imagining it. There was genuine admiration and happiness in her eyes though.
It was rare to see Heather show a semblance of a ‘normal’ human feeling; she was usually either Cailleach or business woman, there was no inbetween.
Weird.
“Yeah, she freaked out big time and tried to run,” he said. “She’ll be fine. Don’t underestimate her potential, Woofy. If she can survive that sick bastard’s torture she can survive anything.” She patted his cheek again.
He batted her hand away and gritted his teeth. She was so condescending, it made his blood boil, and those fucking pet names. He didn’t know how he had lasted ten years without throttling her at least once. He needed a medal.
“It would be nice if you actually used my name instead of the stupid pet names you keep on coming out with. Ten years I’ve had to put up with that shit,” he snarled.
“You love it really, poochums... Stop being all growly and tell me more about our little sorceress upstairs.” She smirked at him.
“Anything you need to know you can ask me yourself!”
Shit. Clara stood in the hallway with a thunderous look on her face and wasted no time in giving Heather a mouth full.
“You’ve got some nerve showing up here and demanding I see you, who the hell do you think you are?” Clara was now standing in the doorway. She was furious and not afraid of letting Heather know it.
Heather looked amused, which confused Colt even more. She would never normally stand for anyone speaking to her like that.
“Ooh, Colt, she’s feisty,” Heather said, not taking her eyes off Clara. “I think we are going to get along nicely.” Heather stood up. “Let me look at you, now you’re not covered in dirt and blood.” Heather inspected Clara’s face and her hand went to her mouth in shock. What had gotten into her?
“You look just like... Fido, get me a drink. A strong one, we’ve got a lot to talk about.” Something had spooked her.
“Are you shitting me? It’s ten forty-five in the morning, and don’t call me Fido,” he snapped. “I wouldn’t care if it was nearly close to witching hour, I NEED A FUCKING DRINK!” she bellowed at him. Colt was close to telling her to fuck off, but thought better of it.
“Fucking witches,” he mumbled.
Colt stormed to one of the cupboards in the kitchen and pulled out a litre bottle of Bells whisky. He grabbed three glasses out of another cupboard and poured three large servings. He slammed one of the glasses down in front of Heather, who was now sitting back in the chair watching Clara intently.
“Will you please join us, Clara? I have something I need to tell you.” Heather indicated to the chair opposite her.
Clara looked like she wanted to rip Heather’s face off. “I am not in the habit of drinking alcohol this early. I’ll make myself a coffee, thanks.” Clara pushed past Colt and started messing with the machine. Colt could see her hands shaking. He walked to her and took her hands.
“Hey beautiful.” He tucked her hair behind her ear; he could see this was rattling her more than she let on. Heather being here made it all seem more real. “Go and sit, I’ll make the coffee. I could do with one myself... You’re doing good, baby, so good.”
She nodded and took the seat opposite Heather and stared right at her. Heather looked nervous. “You came here to talk so talk,” Clara said. He was so proud
of her standing her ground. Heather had met her match.
Heather took a gulp of her whisky before speaking. “You’ve read the journal, you know what you are?” Heather said, a quiver in her voice.
“Yes, I read it all,” Clara said.
Heather downed the rest of her drink.
“What do you know about your birth parents?” Heather asked her. She placed the glass on the table. Clara looked shocked at the question. “Our father died when I was a baby, and my mother abandoned us when we were little. Emmie knows them more than I do.”
“Emmie,” Heather re peated. Her hands shook and her voice wobbled. She looked at Clara for a second before speaking again. She looked devastated; he knew whatever was coming next was going to be massive. She blew out an uneven breath and started talking again.
“What if I told you, your mother has regretted ever leaving you both, and she has been searching for you since a week after she left you in that church yard? She was in a bad place; her husband had just been murdered and your lives were in danger. She did the only thing she believed would keep you safe. She realised this was so wrong and has never stopped looking for you both. Every time she found a trace that led to where you might be, the trail turned cold, until now.” Heather looked guilt-ridden; tears stained her cheeks as she spoke, her voice broke and her shoulders shook. Heather didn’t cry ever.
What the fuck?
Heather never told him she knew Clara’s birth mother. Colt’s face probably mirrored Clara’s right now, both of their mouths wide open in shock. Whatever she was leading up to wasn’t going to be good. He grabbed a shot glass and downed the whiskey in one. The golden liquid burned as it went down.
“I think I will have that drink now too, Colt,” Clara said, not breaking her glare from Heather. He got the whisky off the side and passed it to her; she threw all the amber liquid back straight away. She immediately started coughing. He grabbed some water from the fridge and filled another glass, handing it to her. She swallowed it down.
“You – cough – know – cough – our mum?” Heather nodded and took a deep shaking breath. “I am your mum, Clara.”
SHIT.
Chapter Twelve
Clara
WHAT! No, that whisky must have gone straight to her head. It had definitely invaded her lungs; she coughed again and tried to clear her throat.
She took another drink of water, it seemed to help a little but her throat was raw from choking. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” she said. Her voice was gruff but her anger peaked again. She had waited for days for this woman to turn up and now she was here she was dropping this shit on her, this had to be a joke and she wasn’t laughing.
“I promise you, Clara, this is not something I would ever joke about, you’re my little girl.” Her voice breaks, tears fill her eyes and spill onto her pale face. Clara isn’t sure how to react to Heather’s sudden show of emotion.
“Prove it!” Clara snarls.
“Your birthday is December 2nd, 1996, you were 7lb 3oz born. I didn’t think I could love anything as much as I loved your sister Amelia Jane but as soon as you were placed in my arms I knew my heart was split in half and you both held a piece each.” Heather’s face was full of pain and longing for what she had given up.
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, she hadn’t heard Emmie’s full name since before they were adopted. She had seen a resemblance in this woman’s photo in the journal but now, in person, the features were undeniably like Emmie’s. The poker- straight blonde hair and the aqua blue eyes, it was like looking at an older version of her sister.
The major difference between this woman and Emmie was how put together Heather was; she looked so fake with her big false nails and expensive clothes.
Tears filled her own eyes, unable to hold them back any longer. She had searched for them, she said. Did she expect her to just fall into her arms, after all this time? This woman had abandoned them.
“So, say that I believe you’re our mum.” Her voice shook, she couldn’t allow herself to break. She had thought about this moment for as long as she could remember, but now it was happening her brain had turned to mush and she couldn’t muster a coherent thought, so she let her anger do the talking.
“How could you just leave two little girls to fend for themselves? We were nearly separated; do you realise that? It was only because Emmie kept on throwing constant tantrums until we were reunited... Oh God, Emmie. She needs to know, we need to tell her.” She stood, she needed to get out of this place find Emmie and tell her everything.
She walked around the table in a daze. Colt s aid something to her but she didn’t hear him. Her mind was so full she felt like madness had taken over and her vision was hazy.
Arms reached out and dragged her into them – feminine arms, Heather’s arms. She smelt of lilies; strangely the smell was comforting to her and brought a memory of being held as a child. She allowed herself to relax into them.
Heather held her tight like her life depended on it. Clara didn’t even try to struggle, she was numb, locked inside her own head with her unbalanced thoughts fighting to escape.
“Is she going to be alright?” Colt said. His voice was far away; the darkness inside her mind was consuming her and taking her over.
Heather started chanting something over and over in her ear.
“Mementote sermonis mei quem, semel est vita mea memoria.” It sounded like the same chant Annabelle had used in her dreams. She was suddenly transported to a child’s bedroom.
A younger-looking Heather sat on a bed singing a lullaby to a sleeping child while nursing a baby in her arms.
The vision suddenly changed and she was witnessing a shadow man looming over the crib of a sleeping baby. He was wielding a knife with an evil joker-like smile on his mouth. A tiger burst through the door, attacking the intruder while Heather was holding out her arms and chanting something. An orange light blasted from Heather’s fingers, sending the intruder through the big window in the baby’s bedroom but it was too late.
The big cat lay in a pool of its own blood, not moving, the knife left in its chest.
Heather ran to the animal and held onto the big cat’s lifeless body, sobbing into his fur.
“I love you, Cillian, please don’t die, please don’t leave us.”
She hears Heather’s voice as the vision starts to fade, bringing her back to the present. “Your father was a f amiliar, a Tigris, he loved us all so much, he died protecting you, Clara, protecting Annabelle’s legacy.”
This was all too much for her to bear. She collapsed onto her knees on the kitchen floor – the shadow man, her father, her mother, that’s why she had to take them somewhere safe, that’s why she had to give them up. She was petrified they would try to kill her child like they had her husband.
Heather went down with her, still holding her tight. “Now I’ve found you, I am never going to let you go again, my beautiful girl... Please forgive me.” Heather’s words soothed her torn soul as warm arms held her close, arms she had always longed for.
“You’re really here?” she whispered, looking into Heather’s face. “I am, sweetheart.” Heather placed a hand on her cheek lovingly and stared into her eyes. “It’s time for you to claim your birth right, Clara. I promise I’ll be with you every step of the way. We’ve lost so many important years,” Heather said, her voice breaking.
“They found us. They hurt me.” Fresh tears filled Clara’s eyes.
“I know, my darling. Trust me, he will pay for what he has done,” Heather said with conviction. “What about Emmie? She needs to know,” Clara says, her eyes pleading with Heather.
“I’ll get word to her, I promise,” Heather reassured her.
“She doesn’t know I’m safe. I need to see her.” “I know you do, Clara, but it’s safer to stay hidden for now. He isn’t interested in familiars so Amelia is safe. The only th—”
“Emmie’s a familiar?” Clara screeched, looking from Heather to Colt. “You
didn’t know?” Heather said, glaring at Colt. Clara lost her temper again.
“OF COURSE, I DIDN’T KNOW!” She took a deep breath through her nose, trying to calm the anger bubbling inside her before she lost it completely. The haze in her frantic mind finally started clearing; she needed to know everything, she was sick of all this bullshit, she needed brutal honesty.
“Does Emmie know what she is?” She looked from Colt to Heather again. “She’s always known, Clara,” Colt says, looking guilty. “Familiars know what they are from the time they can walk; their senses are heightened depending on the animal form they inhabit. They should have taken on the form of their spectral animal by the time they turn eighteen. Female familiars can take on the form as early as thirteen, it’s a bit like puberty.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?” Clara asks, unable to hide the hurt in her voice. “That’s for Emmie to say, but she was probably confused and scared with what was happening to her. I had my mum and dad to explain things to me. She probably didn’t want to frighten you and didn’t realise what she was until later, it would have been pretty terrifying for her,” Colt explains.
What Colt was saying made sense but she still felt betrayed.
“So how is she a familiar and I’m a cail-whatever you said?” She was so confused. “Come sit back down and I’ll explain everything to you,” Heather said, standing up and offering her hand to Clara.
Clara took Heather’s hand and got up from the floor. She walked back around the table and sat on the chair.
Colt kissed her forehead; there was worry in his eyes. She hated that he was seeing her like this again. Heather took her hands in hers, a warm smile on her face as she explained everything. “When a familiar and a witch bear a child together, the child will take on the embodiment of one of their parents. They will either be born an enchanter or a familiar, it’s just the way it works for us. Me and your father were lucky because we had one of each, you took my spectral gene and your sister took your father’s, but you are both powerful because of your father’s bloodline. Is this making sense to you?”
Unfamiliar (The Vandran Legacy Book 1) Page 13