by T. M. Cromer
Her words were tentative, as if she wasn’t sure he’d still be committed to her tomorrow, never mind next week.
“Without a doubt.” He lightly kissed her temple and teleported them to the reception hall at the Witches’ Council. They’d need to sign in before they would be allowed into the main chamber. Preston and Selene weren’t there five minutes before they encountered their first problem.
“I don’t understand. Why does it fall to the Thornes to take on this Herculean task? How do we know this isn’t another of Alastair’s games?” Councilman Smythe asked. With his wild gray hair and bushy brows, he reminded Selene of a wizened old owl.
“My family is the strongest, Smythe,” Preston responded with a hard edge. “And my brother has never played ‘games’ when it was a matter of great importance. Never would he risk the entire witch community.”
The room was packed with people from all the magical families. At least two representatives from each. Selene had never witnessed such a large gathering as this, and the sheer numbers were overwhelming her.
Spring touched her arm and smiled. “It’s okay. Dad knows what he’s doing.”
“I have every confidence in him. I simply don’t understand why any of this is up for debate,” Selene returned quietly.
As if he’d heard her, Preston said, “This isn’t up for debate. We are going to the Netherworld, with or without your approval. What remains to be seen is if you’ll have our backs and be prepared with a backup plan should anything go wrong.”
“What about the Aether?” Councilwoman Hall asked. “The job of Damian Dethridge is to provide balance between good and evil. Shouldn’t he be the one to see to this?”
“I fully intend to.”
All heads spun toward the back of the room. Damian emerged from the shadows and swept the room with a chilling glance. Gasps echoed around the chamber as he strode down the aisle toward where Preston and Alastair presented their case. Dressed all in black, he was an imposing yet romantic figure. Radiating mystery and strength at the same time.
“Isn’t he dreamy?” a woman whispered from directly behind her.
Spring smirked as Selene rolled her eyes.
“I’ve spoken at length with the Thornes, Sebastian Drake, and the goddesses involved in the plan.” Damian tilted his head toward Preston. “Isis has put him in charge of eliminating the Evil. Not me. However, I plan to provide the support needed to conquer it, whatever that entails,” he finished grimly.
Selene suspected he was thinking about his daughter’s prediction. When he turned his head to meet her gaze, she shivered. How was it possible he had access to everyone’s thoughts and still managed to single out one particular person?
“Because yours had to do with my daughter.”
Damian’s voice in her head sounded exceptionally loud, and she jerked in her seat, drawing Preston’s concerned gaze.
She waved him off and decided to keep her thoughts on the topic at hand.
A hint of a smile tugged at Damian’s mouth, and all eyes turned to see what had him amused.
Heat climbed Selene’s neck and rapidly warmed her cheeks.
Preston frowned but turned his attention back to the Council members gathered at the high table. “Look, we don’t need your permission to tackle this threat. We need your knowledge of the Netherworld. None of us want to be blindsided by something on another plane we weren’t prepared for.” He released a breath and asked, “Will you give us access to the vaults to look for the information we need?”
“Mr. Dethridge, it’s my understanding you intend to cross over with a handful of the others?” Georgie Sipanil was seeking clarification for the benefit of the other members. She herself already knew this, based on her conversation with Preston and Selene.
“Your understanding is correct.”
“And to balance the Thornes’ and Ms. Barringer’s crossing, you will all need to resurrect some unsavory characters?”
“Also correct.”
“The Enchantress among them?”
“Yes.”
Gasps, louder than when the Aether appeared, ricocheted off the chamber’s walls. Those who hadn’t been in contact with Isolde still would’ve heard rumors of her reign of terror. Damian would’ve needed to report to the Council that she was truly dead and that her body had been destroyed. From there, the story would’ve leaked out and made the rounds.
“What is the risk to the magical community as a whole should she be resurrected and escape?”
“The Evil—the one that caused my mother to murder others for their magic—left her upon her death. Should she return to the earthly plane, the community will be safe.”
“Why should we trust you?” someone from the gallery shouted.
Alastair graced the person with a quelling look. “He’s all that stands between you and death, you fool.”
Councilman Smythe frowned and leaned forward. “Let me make sure I have this straight. You and your family wish to comb the vaults on the off chance there’s information to be found regarding the Netherworld. This will give you unlimited access to spells and ancient artifacts no one should have the right to.” He held up a hand when Preston would’ve spoken. “You also intend to resurrect five unsavory characters—four of which are this community’s most lethal enemies—and grant them magical abilities. In addition, if your trip to the Netherworld doesn’t work, you want to take down magic on earth and the Otherworld, leaving us vulnerable to the Underworld and these resurrected enemies who would possess magic. Do I have this correct?”
“No one could call you slow, Smythe,” Alastair drawled.
Preston closed his eyes and shook his head, and Selene suspected he wanted to gag his brother.
“I’m the balance,” Damian reminded them. “The moment the Evil is transported to the Nether, I’ll remove the power from Beecham, Lin, and Salinger.”
“What about your mother?” the first heckler shouted, seemingly unable to contain himself.
The Aether’s visage was a frigid mask, and his eyes were deadly as he faced the man in the third row. “What’s your problem, Harris?”
Harris paled. His already pasty skin turning startlingly white. His fleshy jowls wobbled, expressing his fear. Maybe he’d assumed Damian didn’t know him or had no way of identifying who he was, but right then, he looked as if he was soiling his pants.
Selene pursed her lips to hold back a giggle.
Alastair didn’t bother. His mocking laughter echoed around the room. “Yes, Harris. Please, tell us. What is your problem?”
The other man looked as if he’d swallowed his tongue as his skin turned an alarming shade of purple. He didn’t speak. Instead, he jumped up and ran for the exit.
“Was it something I said?” Alastair called after him. With a shrug, he turned and faced Damian. “I don’t know why people can’t take a bit of ribbing.”
A flash of brilliant white teeth was Damian’s response, and all the women present heaved a collective girly sigh.
Selene pressed her fingertips to her mouth when she witnessed the Aether’s irritated expression. Preston caught her eye and winked.
With a loud clap of his hands, Preston turned to the high table. “So. What’s it going to be? We save the world, or it goes to hell in a handbasket?”
Chapter 20
“That went better than expected.”
Preston glanced up sharply, pausing in cutting his steak. “Really, Al?” He snorted before consuming a forkful of the meat he’d dipped into aioli.
“We’ve gained permission to search the Council archives. Score one for our team.”
Preston swallowed the food, downed a mouthful of wine, and sat back. “Yes, but we have a limited time to do it, and each of us is saddled with a member of the high table. I don’t trust them not to take what we learn and screw us over.”
“Well, now you sound like me, little brother. I’m the untrusting one of the two of us.” The humor lurking in Alastair’s eyes triggered an a
nswering reaction inside of Preston, and they laughed.
They both knew Alastair was busting his balls. Neither of them were particularly trusting, but Preston could usually get around people easier than his brother. He tended to be less grating on the nerves, and he was a whole lot more diplomatic in nature.
Raising his voice to be heard over the din of conversations around them, Preston said, “There are seven known vaults. Given the whole of our families, minus those left behind to protect the children and the estates, we can divide into teams of four.” He looked at the people surrounding the Drakes’ dining room table, then to those standing just beyond their chairs. “I believe the eldest, most experienced members of our group should lead a team. Alastair, me, Ryker, Rafe, and Gwennie. The exceptions will be Spring and Nash. They specialize in research and artifacts, so they’ll head up two of the groups. Any questions?”
His cousin Leonie raised a hand. “What if we don’t find what we’re looking for before the vaults shift?”
“Each of you will have a timer set to the exact number of minutes needed for teleportation, performing the spell to unlock the door, and conducting a search of the contents. It will leave you with roughly forty-eight minutes inside.” He gave her a stern look. “Once the timer goes off, you get the hell out and close the circle. No exceptions.” He leaned in to stress, “If you feel the floor of the vault move, get the fuck out. There’s no need to take chances. You’ll have a list of places where your vault will bounce next, and you’ll need to follow closely on its heels so you can repeat the process. You’ll lose a few minutes with each round, so be sure to take that into account when you set the timer.”
“The WC has given us exactly five hours total. After that, all the vaults will shuffle to undisclosed locations,” Alastair added.
“What if we don’t get out in time?” Winnie’s husband, Zane, rested his hands on her shoulders. He looked uneasy about the entire mission.
“Your insides will be scrambled,” Damian said flatly.
Several people gasped and looked alarmed.
Preston pasted on a warm smile although he wasn’t close to feeling it. Inside, he was cold and eaten up with worry he refused to show. “I suggest you don’t forget to set your timer when you happen upon the first location and make it a point to get out when it alerts you, without delay.” He shoved aside the rest of his meal and stood. “We understand this is dangerous. Any of you hesitant to take the risk, please know we won’t hold it against you should you choose to remain behind. Most of you have children to consider.”
Liz Thorne stepped forward. “You’re taking the greater risk by going to the Netherworld, cousin. To help the rest of us, I might add. The least we can do is research what might make it safer for you in the long run.”
Alastair gave her an approving nod. “Well said, child.”
“Thank you, Liz.” Most of them had been at the emergency Council meeting, but Preston needed to make sure they were all clear on what might happen should he and the others fail. He explained in great detail what they intended. “Questions?”
Other than a few wary glances being exchanged, everyone remained quiet.
Preston checked the pocket watch Alastair had given him earlier in the day. “The Council members should be here soon. Take the time to indulge in this nice buffet our hosts have set out for us, then meet on the lower lawn in twenty minutes.”
He left the room to find Selene. The sheer volume of people had overwhelmed her, and she’d decided to spend the time visiting Damian’s wife. Selene had informed him earlier that the two women had gone to finishing school together.
Damian joined him and held out a hand. “Come on, I’ll teleport us to my home.”
They arrived within seconds to find Sabrina waiting on the bottom step of the sweeping staircase. “Papa!”
“Beastie.” Damian knelt on one knee and braced for the impact of her small body as she flung herself into his arms.
As Preston watched them embrace, he recalled similar greetings from his own children. Spring was the most like Sabrina Dethridge in her enthusiasm and unfailing love. How he’d never seen it back then or cherished those moments for the rare treasures they were, was beyond him. He’d been foolish to believe those days would never end.
“Don’t be sad, Preston.” Sabrina separated from her father and clasped his hand. “You’ll have more babies to love.”
“I’m old for children, sweetheart,” he said dryly.
“Papa is over two hundred,” she pointed out.
Preston chuckled at Damian’s put-out expression. Leave it to a kid to keep you humble. “I stand corrected.”
“Miss Selene wants babies.”
“Aannndddd that’s enough of that.” Damian tossed Sabrina over his shoulder and stalked off down the hallway. “Where’s your mother, beastie? I need to talk to her about obtaining magical duct tape for your trap.”
Sabrina must’ve heard all of this before because she giggled at the threat.
Preston followed, shaking his head in amusement. These lively interactions between Damian and his daughter made him smile. He was happy to see their family unit back together and thriving.
For the first years of Sabrina’s life, Damian had been a doting father. Then, Vivian had allowed her sister to play on her fears, and she’d stolen their child away in the middle of the night. Damian had been like a wounded animal in those days, living a solitary existence. No one other than Alastair and Preston had dared approach him. They’d encouraged a conversation between the couple, but Damian had refused for reasons he didn’t care to divulge. Eventually, he’d retrieved his family. Although, as Preston understood it, Damian and Vivian were putting on a show for Sabrina’s benefit. Their relationship was still fractured.
“Viv, our gremlin is spilling secrets again,” Damian said when they found her and Selene. “I think we need to send her to a boarding school for wayward witches. Don’t they have a good one at the North Pole?”
Sabrina giggled. “You’re so silly, Papa!”
He shifted her from his shoulder to cradle her in his arms. “Silly is intended for those who are kidding. I assure you, I’m completely serious.” A twinkle belied his words. “Now, what punishment should I impose?” He squinted his eyes in thought, then flared them wide. “I know—”
“Not broccoli, Papa! You can’t use that again.”
“No? Hmm. All right. I suppose I’ll have to think of another.” He rubbed his nose against hers and set her on her feet. “Run along, you troublemaker. The adults need to converse about serious issues.”
Sabrina opened her mouth to argue but quickly caved to her father’s stern, warning look. With a shrug, she teleported away.
“Where do you suppose she went?” Vivian asked, placing her teacup and saucer on the side table next to her.
“Most likely right outside the door to spy. She’s missed her calling. We should give her to the Witches’ Council to run their Intelligence Department.” A faint giggle sounded behind them, and Damian made a face. “Begone with you, beastie, or it’s gruel for your dinner tonight,” he boomed out.
Preston grinned. The threat was empty, and they all knew it. The child had the ability to conjure whatever she wanted to eat whenever she wished.
“How did your meeting go?” Selene asked with a small smile. “Is everything ready for us?”
“Pretty much. Everyone’s been briefed, and we’ve stressed the need to stay within the timetable for each jump. I don’t know how much plainer we can make it.”
She studied him for a moment. “But you’re worried they won’t heed your warning,” she finally concluded.
“Yes and no.” He accepted the tumbler of brandy Damian had poured for him. “None of this feels right, and I’m not sure what’s bothering me.”
“Possibly the consequences should we fail?” Damian grimaced and downed his drink in one shot. “The fact I’m forced to consume the Evil and will potentially go mad like my mother isn’t e
xactly making me excited for what comes next, either.”
“We need to put safety measures in place, Damian,” Vivian said softly. The wariness in her eyes cut Preston. He could only imagine how the Aether must feel to receive such a look from his own wife. “If you… if…”
Oddly, Damian seemed more resigned than irritated. “I know, Viv. We have time yet.”
“Not a lot.”
Preston met Selene’s worried gaze with a solemn one of his own. She probably felt as he did—that they were intruding on what should be a private conversation.
“It’s all right, Pres,” Damian assured him with a slight twist of his lips. “My wife and I don’t require tender moments alone. Right, love?”
Vivian’s pale blue-gray eyes cooled, and her mouth tightened. For a long moment, the husband and wife stared at one another, seemingly fighting a silent battle of sorts. Damian was the first to look away. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and walked to the cabinet to pour himself another drink.
“I’m a right prick. I apologize.” After he downed his second tumbler of brandy, he set the glass on the sideboard and faced them. “Vivian’s correct. We don’t have a lot of time to create an unbreakable spell that will prevent me from finding her and Sabrina should I turn as evil as my mother before me.”
Selene pressed her palm to her chest and shifted to look at Vivian.
Preston sat beside her. “That’s been weighing on you all this time, Viv?”
“Yes,” she said tearfully. Turning tear-bright eyes on her husband, Vivian said, “If it were only me, I wouldn’t insist on this, Damian. You know that. But I can’t not protect Sabrina.”
“I do know.” The Aether closed his eyes with an expression of profound grief on his face. “Let’s get this over with. It’s better if you both disappear before I become a monster.”
“No, Papa!” Sabrina cried as she flung open the door.
They all faced the tearful child.
“Beastie. There’s no other way to protect you.” The anguish in Damian’s voice tore at Preston’s heart.