by T. M. Cromer
Like a rabid animal, Beau swung about and slashed wildly at thin air.
“You’re f… fucked… buddy,” Quentin panted with a half laugh. “S-so, fuck… ked.” With zero energy and very little life force left, he rested his head against the wall where he knelt. “Al… Alastair is g… gonna tear you… you a new… ass.”
He closed his eyes even as Beau stormed in his direction. A loud boom had his eyes snapping back open. Beau stood above him, knife poised to strike, but his attention was caught by the disturbance.
A simple twist of Quentin’s wrist sent the knife plunging into Beau’s throat. Seemed he did have the energy for one final bit of witchcraft.
Once again, Quentin shut his eyes. Holly would be okay. It was time for him to transition planes.
“Why did you do that, you foolish boy?” Alastair scolded as he squatted beside him. “I would have taken care of him.”
He shot Alastair a mischievous grin. “I still… got it.” His quip was ruined by his cry of pain. “Fuck me… this hurts. I can’t… imagine how Holly… stood it.”
“Holly?”
“Forgot… diff… different… time… line.”
A flurry of activity around him kept him grounded for another moment or two more.
Holly’s voice came from a long way away. “Quentin, don’t leave me, my love. You’d better hang on!”
He would’ve snorted his amusement had he been able to drum up the energy or the oxygen. She’d used almost the same exact words he had when he tried to save her twice before.
“Don’t… touch… me.” He cracked his lids to meet her hurt gaze. “Poison… blade…”
Her hands flew to her mouth as if to hold back a scream, and she turned to her father in horror.
Alastair’s grim expression didn’t bode well for Quentin’s long-term survival. He glanced at someone outside Quentin’s peripheral. “Get your bag and ask Spring for a section of the plant.” They all knew which plant he referred to. It was the only one capable of neutralizing the poison.
Father and daughter made eye contact before Alastair turned his gaze on Quentin again. “Son, I’m going to lift you and take you to the sofa. GiGi will be back shortly, and she’s going to heal you. I want you to concentrate on breathing in and out on the count of three. Like this.” He demonstrated slow, short inhales and exhales.
Quentin found the instruction helped, but only marginally. His chest hurt like a bitch. It was doubtful GiGi would be able to fix him up with a tin of Altoids this time.
“Tell me what happened, child,” Alastair ordered Holly.
She gave him a rundown of the event.
Alastair gazed at Quentin thoughtfully. “You have the power to go through time at will?”
“Yeah… Athena… gifted it…”
“Are you the Quentin from the clearing that day? The one who gave me the note from myself?”
Quentin found his lips quirking. The pain was receding and in its place was a lightheadedness that felt like being in a drunken euphoria. “Yes… you should… have seen… your… face.” He tried the trick of inhaling to the count of three but only managed two. “Keeping… that image.”
“We have to do something.” Holly was frantic from where she knelt at his side. “He’s fading, Dad.”
“Heart… of… Artemis…” Quentin panted. “Athena… says… will… help.”
Alastair’s brows shot halfway up his forehead. “You’re in touch with Athena right now?”
“She’s… here.”
“He must be half in and out of each world to see her,” Alastair murmured. “Holly, child, go to my estate and ask Alfred for the suit coat I was wearing in the clearing. I slipped the globe into my pocket before taking Rorie home.”
In a blink, Holly was gone.
“Thank you for what you did tonight, son. You saved my little girl. I won’t forget that.”
“Love… her…” Quentin cracked his eyelids as wide as he could manage. “No… choice.”
“Still, I am indebted. At anytime in the future, should you need me, I will be there.”
He wanted to laugh at Alastair’s earnestness and crazy belief that he might have a future, but it would cost him too much. Instead, he smiled and closed his eyes. It wouldn’t hurt to sleep now. Holly was safe from Beau forever.
Chapter 25
The day of Quentin’s funeral, the sun dawned bright and beautiful in direct contrast to Holly’s shriveled soul. Both Holly and GiGi had been too late with the tools to save him. She would never forget the peaceful smile on his still face. Never forget the devastation, or the desire to go with him.
Although Holly had summoned and begged her, Isis hadn’t been inclined to grant any favors after their stunt in the clearing. When they used a spell from the Book of Thoth to bring Aurora back, they broke trust with Isis.
No, her beloved Quentin, with his mussy dark hair and milk-chocolate-colored eyes that promised sin, was gone. His body now encased by the black casket before her.
Dry-eyed, she stared as the coffin was lowered into the ground. She’d spent the last four days crying her heart out, but she had no more tears left. She was depleted. All emotion had exited her life, leaving only a deep, dark depression along with a burning anger that Quentin had left her alone. Goddess, how she hated to be alone.
Sharp pain announced the first contraction of her abdomen. Most of the night before, she’d felt restless; her nesting instinct had kicked in around midnight. Her baby would likely be born this evening. Quentin would miss the birth of the child he’d longed to welcome to the world. With the third contraction, she sucked in her breath and swayed.
Her father’s arm came around her shoulders, and she ducked out of his embrace. “Don’t touch me,” she snarled. “Don’t you ever touch me.”
“As you wish. Shall I conjure you a chair?”
“Cut the solicitous act. This is your fault. No amount of concern on your part can change the fact that my husband is lying...” Holly’s voice broke in her fury. She took a deep, steadying breath. “…is lying there because of you and Victor Salinger. Because of a stupid-ass war you both engaged in years ago that is now carrying over to the next generation.”
Her hand went to her baby bump. “And most likely to the next one after ours. You all disgust me.”
“Be that as it may, Holly Anne, you’ve started your labor, and you need assistance.”
“I’ll go to a regular hospital like every other mortal.”
“No, you won’t,” he countered. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You know what’s dangerous, Dad? Being related to you. Being anywhere in your general vicinity. That’s what’s dangerous.” She hissed at the pain of a stronger contraction.
A muscle ticked in his angular jaw. Her words had cut him to the quick, as she’d intended. Maybe if he could experience a fraction of the heartbreak and desolation she was feeling… but no, he’d have to care about anything and anyone other than her mother for that.
“Why are you here?” she asked tiredly.
“I cared about him, too, child. You may not believe it, but it’s true.” He raised his eyes skyward and took a long, deep breath. “I don’t know anyone who didn’t adore your young man. But mainly, I’m here for you.”
“For me? That’s a laugh. After this ceremony is over, I never want to see you again. I never want you to have a thing to do with my child’s life. And if you defy me, Father, I’ll rain hell down upon you the likes that make Zhu Lin and Victor Salinger look like your best friends.”
Holly stumbled forward to where the coffin lay firmly seated in the ground. Because she was the size of a small barn, she couldn’t bend. Instead, she called a clump of dirt to her. With cold deliberation, she dumped it in the eight-foot by three-foot hole.
“Goodbye, my love,” she whispered.
Not bothering to spare any of her family a glance, she teleported to her home on Yellow Creek Mountain to collect the two suitcases containing clothes for h
er and the baby along with a small assortment of odds and ends.
Perhaps one day she’d return to the home she’d shared with Quentin, but right now she couldn’t be here. Couldn’t sleep in their bed, or see the couch they’d cuddled on at night. Couldn’t bear to see the baby’s room that he’d designed and created with such love in his heart.
She had laughed at him when he physically painted the room, telling him a simple snap of his fingers would have done the job. He had only shot her a panty-melting grin and said, “I want to have a hand in making the space perfect for our daughter.”
“What happens if it’s a boy?” Holly had teased.
“You’re going to have to trust me on this one, love.”
And she had.
She touched the wall of the nursery closest to her. He’d done an excellent job with the color. The pale pink called Summer Crush was the perfect color for a baby girl.
Holly experienced a moment of uncertainty over her decision to leave their home, but firmed her resolve. There was no way she could live in this place anymore. On the other side of town, Beau Hill was being laid to rest by his family and friends. If she stayed, she’d be subject to those same people’s constant regard and judgment. More importantly, her child would, too. And other than to wish that black-hearted bastard to the darkest pits of hell, Holly didn’t care to think about him another second longer.
She planned to stay with Spring and Knox until the baby was a few months old. Then, she would make her way in the world. It would be necessary to bind Francesca’s powers so Holly could raise her daughter like a normal child, shunning all things Thorne. Without the influence of magic or the curse that followed their family, her daughter might have a chance at a happy life.
With her suitcases in hand, she closed her eyes and envisioned the front porch of her sister’s house. Her cells warmed and triggered a wicked kick from her soon-to-be-born child.
“Enough, you little troublemaker. You’ll have your way in a little while, but I need to get where I’m going first, okay?”
Before she could finish her scold, she’d landed on her knees on Spring’s doorstep, heralded by a loud thunk and a whoosh that signaled the breaking of her water. Her time was at hand.
The door swung open, and Knox was there. Gently, he lifted and secured her to his chest as if she were the greatest treasure known to man.
“I have you, Holly. GiGi and Winnie are waiting in your room.”
“How…?”
“As closely as everyone was watching you at the service, it was easy to guess when your pains started.”
“No secrets in this family, huh?” she managed through her panting, ignoring the pang of grief at the word service. “Knox, before… before we go inside… promise me you won’t… call Alastair to come… no matter what.”
He stared down at her with somber, all-seeing eyes. “If that’s your wish, Holly, I’ll honor it.” When he saw his wife approaching, he lowered his voice and quickly asked, “Should anything happen to you, who should raise your child?”
The thought of not being there for her daughter was terrifying, but she understood the importance of the question. Things could go wrong.
“Summer and Cooper… with the stipulation Alastair goes nowhere… near my child.”
“Understood.”
“Thank you,” she rushed out as another contraction hit.
GiGi Thorne-Gillespie gently smoothed back Holly’s dark hair as she gazed down at her sleeping niece.
“Is she going to be all right, Auntie G?” Summer whispered the question so as not to disturb her twin or the baby.
“Physically, she’ll bounce back like any healthy woman who gave birth. Mentally and emotionally? Maybe with time.”
“Quentin was the one constant in her life. I can’t believe he’s gone.”
GiGi blinked back the moisture building behind her lids. She knew about loss, both in love and of a child. The grief her darling niece was experiencing wasn’t going away overnight. The rage she was feeling was all part of the process. If the Goddess was kind, she’d find a way to ease Holly’s suffering and allow her to transition to acceptance in a speedy manner.
“Do you know why they were targeted by Beau Hill?”
GiGi smoothed and tucked the comforter around the tragic figure on the bed, then rose and took the baby from Summer to place her in her mother’s arms. A simple softly spoken phrase put a protection spell around the mother and child and allowed them their much-needed sleep.
With a nod, GiGi guided Summer from the bedroom into the main living area where the rest of the Thornes—with the exception of Alastair and Aurora—waited.
“I imagine you are all dying to learn what happened. Autumn, conjure tea and cookies, and I’ll tell everyone what I know.”
As they gathered around, GiGi relayed the why of it all.
After the stabbing, Alastair had explained to her how the night Quentin broke into the museum vault, he teleported into the past to warn of the future danger to Holly. His request to Alastair had been to make sure Beau wasn’t a threat to anyone. In that, her brother had failed.
The measures Alastair had taken weren’t enough. He had confessed to setting Beau up. The local authorities found enough marijuana plants in Beau’s basement to put him away for a great many years. In addition to the pot, he was busted for counterfeiting. Sheriff Wyatt Thorne and his daughter, Evelyn Thorne, who happened to be a federal agent, saw to it that Beau’s case was airtight. Beau had been convicted of cultivating and selling drugs, along with passing the counterfeit bills. The judge, Elijah Gillespie—Ryker’s brother—threw the book at Beau and gave him the strictest sentence. The poor sod was scheduled to spend a good portion of his life behind bars.
What no one had anticipated was the riot at the prison, or the escape of two convicts. One had been caught immediately, but the other—Beau—managed to evade capture. He came after Holly in a vicious act of revenge against the Thornes, knowing they were behind setting him up, even if he never understood why. His hatred had festered to the point where an old enemy of the Thornes was able to manipulate him into orchestrating the riot.
She finished with, “That enemy was Victor Salinger. Through his network of spies, he must have learned Alastair had targeted Beau.” She shrugged because it was all still unclear as of yet. “Victor’s name wasn’t in the visitor logbook leading up to Beau’s escape, but Nash discovered security footage of Victor speaking with Beau moments before the riot began. And now, because everyone around Holly foolishly tried to protect her, Quentin is dead.”
“Jesus!” Knox shook his head in wonder and pulled Spring close. “No wonder she’s upset with him.”
“There was no way to anticipate that Beau would escape,” Summer protested. “Would Holly rather Dad have murdered him from the beginning?”
Autumn poured everyone another cup of tea, but this time, she produced a bottle of brandy and splashed a dollop into each porcelain cup. “It would have been better.” The gasped responses earned their group a careless shrug. “You’re all thinking it. Regardless, what’s the plan to bring Quentin back?”
“There is no plan, Tums,” Spring inserted. “When one crosses to the Otherworld and their body has been in a death state as long as Quentin’s, there is no return.”
“Bullshit! No one is truly gone. I was on the other side. Souls are everywhere, mingling about and waiting for reincarnation or to be revived.”
“No, niece, I fear Spring is correct.”
“Are you telling me that my sister has to spend the rest of her life alone, trying to be a single parent to her child, while Quentin resides in the Otherworld?” She shook her dark, auburn head. “I won’t accept that.”
Autumn’s stubborn insistence that she was right reminded GiGi of her own mother. While the two women looked very different, Ruby Smythe-Thorne and Autumn possessed the same exact temperament: react first and ask questions later. There wasn’t a human on the planet who had ever gotten the
better of GiGi’s mother, and if the woman put her mind to it, there wasn’t anything she couldn’t accomplish.
Preston, who had remained silent most of the evening, finally spoke. “It’s not a matter of accepting, child. It just is. There isn’t a damned thing to be done about it.”
“But Dad—”
He held up a hand. “Autumn, you’ll give her false hope.” He downed the contents of his cup and rose. “Losing loved ones is a fact of life. Don’t you think we…” He gestured between himself and GiGi. “…would have brought back our loved ones if we could have? Sometimes, regardless of how much you want to, you have to let people go. Holly has to grieve and move on. She will. She needs time, patience, and our support.”
In this, GiGi agreed with him whole-heartedly. It was a primary reason she had been against her oldest brother reviving Aurora. The dead should stay dead. “Even if you could resurrect Quentin, child, he might not be whole. He could very well come back evil. How much worse would that be?”
“I didn’t!” Autumn cried.
“Maybe evil is the wrong word, but are you going to deny that a part of you is darker than before?” Autumn had no comeback, and GiGi hated that she was proved right. Hated that she needed to put her beloved niece on the spot like that in front of her spouse and siblings. “Let her recover in her way, darling.”
“It’s so damned tragic,” Winnie murmured as she clasped Autumn’s hand. “She didn’t deserve this.”
GiGi shifted her gaze to stare at the bedroom door. “No, she didn’t.”
Chapter 26
Thirteen Years Later…
“Mom, there’s a lady here to see you!” Francesca Buchanan sang out. “She’ll be out in a sec,” she told the red-headed woman standing on her doorstep. Because her mother had never received a visitor in all the years Frankie was alive, her curiosity got the better of her. “Are you a friend of my mom’s?”
An amused light flashed in the amber eyes of the woman in front of her. “Something like that, kid. You gonna let me in, or are you going to make me stand on the porch all day?”