by Kate Gellar
The second Emma stepped into the shower, Abby concentrated on her face in the mirror. With shaking hands, she applied moisturizer to her face.
Why did she even care what Emma thought of her? Plus, she hadn’t given Astrid any reason to hate her. They’d worked side by side for the last three days. Maybe they’d seen her kiss Liam and assumed she was working her way through the group.
But Liam had pulled her to a secluded area before he’d kissed her. The girls had been busy elsewhere.
No, it couldn’t be that. So why did her hands shake?
Maybe because you’re into the boys and you won’t admit it.
Head, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
She thought about asking Sam what the boys’ intentions were toward the girls, but maybe she didn’t want to know.
Abby dressed in jeans and a navy blue long-sleeved top, and allowed her curly hair to dry naturally. Her curiosity about the hidden space drove her downstairs to the living room. She stood alone in the room, not hearing any activity downstairs, except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. The girls must be in their rooms. Fueled on by Emma’s insinuation that Abby was hindering her and Astrid’s progress with the boys, she strode over to the panel, eager to prove she had no interest in them. Whatever power source this house contained was making her crazy. That’s all it was.
She didn’t care about the boys. She had no connection to this place, like Sam had suggested by the oak tree.
Abby stuck her fingers in a gap wide enough to grip and pried the panel door open. It revealed a wooden door with a padlock on it. She touched the lock and a sudden dizziness almost floored her. She grabbed on to the mantelpiece to steady herself. Sam had told Sylvie the room held the electricity box. Since Abby refused to believe anything about the existence of a seal, she clung to her theory that EMF explained the strange energy in this castle.
A female voice chanted her name: Abby. Abby. Abby. She looked behind her to see she was still alone in the room. Her eyes drew back to the padlock in her hand. The voice she realized was in her head chanted louder. The lock felt hot to the touch and she wanted to drop it, but a force greater than her controlled her, kept her hand in place. That same force urged her to find the power and feed on it.
You want it, Abby. Just a little taste. Then you can leave.
The thought tightened her grip on the lock. She squeezed it and the metal securing the door cracked and fell away in her hand. Without thinking she jerked the handle down and stepped inside the next room.
Cool air chilled her skin. This room felt different than the others, even though it was made of the same insulating gray stone as the rest of the castle.
Her eyes glued to the decorative seal set into the floor. She’d seen the pattern before, like a pentagram. The metal cover looked ordinary enough, but even without touching it she felt it hum with restrained energy. Abby rubbed her skin. The unseen female chanted her name again; this time it was a faint whisper.
She hunkered down and held her hand over the seal. It pulsated in time with her heartbeat. Her fingers grazed the metal design causing it to spark. Abby gasped and snapped her hand back. But she didn’t leave. Whatever this seal contained wanted her to find it. With more confidence, she touched the seal again. This time the energy hurt less.
She closed her eyes and listened as a new voice chanted her name again. A whisper at first, then louder until it broke through her dream-like state.
“Abby! What the hell are you doing?”
She jerked her head toward the opening and saw a shocked Brendan staring at her. His wide gaze switched to her hand. She looked down to see the padlock in pieces in one and her fingers of the other resting on the seal.
She snapped her hand back and shook her head. “Brendan? What am I doing here?”
A furious Brendan stepped inside the room. He scooped her up into his arms.
“I need to get you out of here.”
21
Brendan
What was he thinking letting Emma kiss him like that? He’d been told to flirt with the girls, sense their energies a little more. But then the living room emptied until it was just him alone with Emma and Astrid. But Brendan’s nerves heightened when Astrid wandered off leaving him and a playful Emma alone. To put a little space between them, he’d told her he needed a glass of water from the kitchen. Emma followed him, and before he knew it, she’d pulled him outside and pinned him up against the wall.
He hadn’t meant to kiss her. It had all happened too fast.
Emma had pressed her body up against him, leaned into him, made suggestions every red-blooded male would jump at the chance to explore. Then she’d kissed him.
But he’d felt no more than a chill when she stuck her tongue into his mouth. She let out a groan when his hands steadied her grinding hips. Soon after, he pushed her away. Emma hadn’t been too impressed with that.
Like a scared boy, he’d avoided her for the rest of the evening and the conversation he suspected Emma wanted to have.
A mortal could not give him what he needed. Brendan was meant for greater things. But aside from that he wanted another, a redhead who didn’t dress up like the other girls, and who didn’t try to flirt with him. A girl who kept mostly to herself.
Brendan couldn’t shake the thought of the one who could bolster the four’s power. What if she wasn’t among the ten they’d brought here? He was certain it wasn’t Emma or Astrid. He felt nothing more than a physical attraction to either blonde. Before his guardianship when he was still mortal, he might have tried it on with them.
But now? Well, fate intervened and turned him into an immortal with one job to do: Find the queen.
What if they couldn’t find her? Should they continue to rely on the magic of the local coven to keep the seal closed? But this week, he had experienced a shift in the castle as the power of the demonic souls tested the seal’s weakening strength. He knew because his dreams had become fucking weird.
Brendan lay low in his room on his four-poster bed, one of the original beds dating back to the eighteenth century. He stared up at the ceiling. How long could the guardian’s power combined with that of the local witches contain the restless souls? So far the witches’ spells had held, but the seal definitely felt weaker since the first of the invitees arrived on Saturday afternoon.
He’d felt the shift. Sam and Liam, too. Murphy refused to admit to anything, but he’d been edgier than normal. The power was finding a way past the witches’ protection spell. They needed the queen. They needed her soon.
Sitting alone in his room did nothing to take the edge off his mood. All four boys were all on edge. A dark energy was coming, and for the first time since Sam had almost died a year ago, reality set in that the four might not be strong enough to deal with it.
Brendan turned his back on the protection the symbol on his door offered and went downstairs. A flash of red hair caught his eye as Abby passed by the bottom of the stairs. She probably wanted to get away from everyone. He’d noticed how closed off and rude some of the women had been to her. Emma and Astrid had practically chased her off before. He thought about joining her, to learn more about her bloodline, but a bout of nerves hit him.
Brendan, nervous? He’d never been shy about talking to a girl in his life. Yet this one...
He backed away and settled for a walk in the garden. But he made it as far as the mudroom before he turned back around. The incident between him and Abby in the presentation room still baffled him. His skin had tingled for the entire presentation. How he’d managed to form words after it happened was a miracle in itself. Brendan entered the Great Hall to see if he could recreate the feeling from that day. But standing in the same place where it had happened, or touching the walls only made him feel like an idiot.
A noise, the sound of a hard object clattering on the floor, startled him. He rushed to the kitchen, thinking Abby had dropped a plate. But when he got there, he found the room empty.
<
br /> His stomach swirled as he neared the living room he’d seen her enter earlier that housed the door protected by a padlock and a witch’s protection spell. They could have locked the entire west wing down, but that would do fuck all to keep the spirits out. A lock and a spell was all they had for now.
He entered the room, expecting to find Abby staring down at a vase she’d broken. He jerked to a stop when he saw the panel door had been pried open and the hidden door was ajar.
“Fuck!”
His knees nearly buckled as he stumbled toward the room. He found Abby knelt on the floor, her eyes fixed on the seal. She was muttering to herself. Her body was caught in a trance. Pieces of the lock were pressed into her closed fist, while her fingers on her other hand touched the seal.
Brendan called her name several times, but she didn’t answer. He shook her. “Abby!”
She snapped out of her stupor and gasped when she saw the broken pieces of the lock in her hand.
The room heaved with barely contained power; Abby most likely broke Sue and Mary’s spell the second she passed through it. How had she managed to do it? Both witches channeled the power of the ancients.
She dropped the pieces when Brendan scooped her up into his arms. “I need to get you out of here.”
It didn’t matter where he took her as long as it was far away from the pentagram seal. He chose his room because it had the strongest protection spell on it. He needed to hide Abby’s energy. The castle heaved with barely restrained power. Where the hell were Sam, Liam, and Murphy? They must have felt the changes in this castle that he was sure Abby’s presence had initiated.
Brendan fumbled for the handle of his bedroom door then kicked it open and placed Abby gently on the bed. She was out of it, barely speaking. Still mumbling. He needed a witch. Lower level would do. There had to be one among the other nine girls.
“Abby. Abby!” He shook her to bring her round. She blinked and looked up at him.
“Brendan? What...happened?”
“Abby, you were out of it. I need a witch. Have any identified themselves to you? Who do you trust?”
Abby seemed to drift off again. He kept his hand on her chin and turned it until she looked at him. He would slap her if necessary. “Abby. Stay with me.”
She blinked again. The power behind the seal had visibly drained her and continued to leach away her power. It’s what the demonic souls did. They fed on mortals and witches. But only a witch could break a protection spell. He still didn’t know what she was. Good witch? Bad witch?
Fuck. Right now, that didn’t matter.
Abby moaned and stirred. She touched his hand; it delivered a jolt of anticipation to his skin. Never before had he felt this, not with any other girl. And there had been plenty. Who was Abby Brennan and what spell had she cast over him?
“Sylvie,” she whispered then licked her lips. “I trust her.”
“Stay awake. I’ll be back.”
Brendan ran to the door and slammed it shut after him. In the corridor he collided with a worried looking Sam. “What’s going on, Brendan? The energy is off the charts in this place.”
“Abby...seal...long story. You need to secure the room downstairs. She broke in.”
“What?” Sam looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Is she okay?”
“I need to get a witch. She says she trusts Sylvie.”
“Be careful.”
Brendan didn’t care about his safety. “Where are Liam and Murphy?”
“Gone to town. Grocery shopping. Hurry. I’ll look after downstairs. Shit.”
Brendan descended the stairs two at a time to the first floor while Sam continued down to the ground floor. Brendan stopped outside Sylvie’s room with The Awen, a Celtic symbol that represented the harmony of opposites in the universe. They suspected the black-haired French beauty might be a witch and had put extra protection on her room.
He knocked on her door. It opened a crack.
Sylvie looked surprised to see him, but then wiped her expression clean. She opened the door and flashed an easy smile. “Hey, mon cherie. What can I do you for?”
Brendan pushed the door open. To Sylvie’s credit, she kept her cool. “I don’t have time for games. If you’re a witch, I need you to come with me. Abby’s life is in danger.”
Sylvie hesitated as if she was about to protest. But then she shrugged. “Ah fuck it. No point in pretending. Let’s go.”
He led her back to his room and inside where Sylvie went straight to a weak-looking Abby and sat beside her.
“What’s wrong with her?” Sylvie looked up, her black gaze trapping Brendan. He fought against her energy, as he had to once before when Sue and Mary had first revealed their powers to him.
“She broke into the room that contains the seal this castle is built upon. I think she drew some of the power it hides into her and it stole hers.”
“You mean the room containing your ‘electrical box’, according to Sam?” She rolled her eyes at him. “I knew this place wasn’t what you said it was. How did you know to come for me?”
“Abby told me to get you.”
Sylvie stood up. “What about the seal? Does it need a new protection spell?”
“Sam’s taking care of it.”
“What do you need me to do here?”
“An anti-location spell to hide her from the entities that might be looking for her. It’s what the local coven would do.”
Sylvie folded her arms. “I sensed spells all over this place. I felt them crawling in the stone walls. But I don’t practice the black arts. I’m not a necromancer or anything dark like that.”
“I don’t need a dark witch. And since you haven’t tried to steal any of our powers yet, that probably makes you a white witch.” Brendan strode over to his bookshelf and snatched a book from it. He tossed it over to Sylvie who caught it.
“Say the spell on page 108.”
Sylvie gave him a questioning look. But then she glanced at Abby who groaned and flicked to the page Brendan had mentioned. She muttered the words; her eyes flickered between open and closed. A gray mist emerged from the book and enveloped Abby.
Abby stopped groaning and a little color returned to her cheeks.
Sylvie slapped the book closed. “Well, that was interesting.” She checked on Abby by touching her pulse point. “I think it helped.”
“The anti-location spell will stop the energies from finding her and the dark magic from stealing more power from her.” Brendan stared at Sylvie. He had to know. “What is she?”
Sylvie looked at Abby. “Part witch, that much I sensed. And it’s strong, too.”
“Dark or white?”
Sylvie shrugged. “Fuck if I know, cherie.”
22
Sam
Sam stared at the floor of the room with the circular seal and pentagram design scattered with pieces of the door’s lock. Had Abby done this? He bent down and picked up the crushed pieces of iron lock that was as old as this house. Maybe it had rusted. Maybe that’s how Abby had broken it. He squeezed a large piece of it in his hand. It felt solid to him.
The seal heaving with energy a few moments ago had gone quiet. The only thing that could calm things that fast was an anti-location spell placed on the person aggravating the souls and a new protection spell on the seal room. Sue and Mary had only placed a protection spell recently enough that usually lasted a few days. There should have been at least twenty-four hours left on it.
Abby must have drawn power directly from the seal. Whatever she was Sam didn’t know. And it appeared that Abby didn’t, either.
Movement behind him startled him. Brendan entered the living room with the French girl, Sylvie. Sylvie closed the door.
“How is she?” he asked Brendan.
Brendan nodded, looking as white as a ghost. “She’s okay for now. Sylvie placed an anti-location spell on her.” He ruffled his long hair that fell loose around his shoulders and inched closer to the open room. “Man, I didn’t know what
to do. She was kneeling on the floor in a trance, muttering to herself. I...I just picked her up and took her to my room.”
Sam nodded. Brendan’s room had the strongest spell on it. Out of the four, he was the most sensitive to the demonic power. Sam fixed his gaze on a shell-shocked Sylvie who bit her fingernails. “You also responsible for the new protection spell on the seal?”
Sylvie nodded and said, “My grandmother taught me only one. It should hold.”
She looked past him to the open door. “What’s the seal protecting?”
“A tear in the fabric of reality. A crack between this land and theirs.”
“Theirs?” Sylvie frowned.
“Demonic souls. Powerful. Otherworldly,” said Sam. “We’re not running this program because we want to swap stories about Irish folklore.”
“I guessed.” Sylvie rolled her eyes. “And I’m not here because I want to work all summer. My grandmother told me I had to come, to help. I didn’t understand, but I trust her.”
“None of you are here by accident,” said Sam.
“Is that so?” said a voice.
Sam turned to see a weak looking Abby stood by the living room door.
Brendan and Sylvie ran over to her and grabbed an arm each.
“You shouldn’t be here. The power in that room almost killed you,” said Brendan. He and Sylvie guided Abby over to the nearest sofa.
“I don’t feel it right now. Your anti-location spell’s working. Everything’s quiet.” She pressed her fingers to the side of her head. “But I’ll have a mother of a headache in the morning.”
Abby sat down with Brendan’s help while Sam kept his feelings to himself under Sylvie’s watchful eye. What he wanted to do was go to Abby and check she was okay.
Not without knowing she’s the one, Sam. You almost died the last time.
He’d kept his distance for a reason. He couldn’t risk bonding with a girl who wasn’t meant for him. For any of them.