Crimson Cove (19 page)

“Sam, leave it.” I glared at him, closing my eyes before the practiced monologue came out. It’s the same one I gave him time and again over the years.

Distracted from the creak of the door opening.

“I didn’t tell Bane about spelling his memory ten years ago. I didn’t tell him a damn thing about us melding.”

Distracted from Bane walking through that door, and not prepared for that rough, heavy wave of anger that shot across the cabin and landed straight in the center of my chest.

              “What did you say?” Bane’s question came out like the crack of a whip—disbelieving, mimicking the anger and pain that brightened his face as he stood in front of me.

              “Man, listen…” But Bane shook his head, silencing my brother immediately. One nod toward the door and Bane dismissed Sam—a silent demand that he leave us alone. 

              “I am not letting you at my sister.”

              He blinked, seeming astounded that Sam wouldn’t cave to him.

“Sammy, it’s okay.” When I shook my head, my brother finally stepped back, watching Bane as he stared at me, seeing, like me, that quiet fury reddening his skin.

It took several moments for Sam to leave the cabin, a few more for me to work up the nerve to turn and face Bane and when I did, his raw fury threatened to topple me.

“We melded?” His voice was calm. Too calm and that rush of energy from his body rose, threatening to slam into me as I stepped back. “And you blocked my memory?” When I didn’t answer, Bane took a step, one slow tap of his boot along the floor before he pinned me against the wall with his large hands on either side of my face. “The truth. Now.”

              “We don’t have time for this.”

              My distraction didn’t work. Nothing would. Bane had been lied to. Bane had been betrayed.  It had been necessary, but the look in his eyes, that wide astonishment, the disgust I saw there hurt worse than walking away from him had.

              “We claimed each other,” he said, his voice small and bullet hard.  Next to my head, Bane curled one hand into a fist and the small pulse of energy from it crackled against the wall. “All this time it was us.”

              “I didn’t have a choice, Bane. It’s not how things should have played out.”

              He didn’t buy it, not if that frown meant anything. Bane shook his head as he watched me but his eyes had gone dull, dispassionate. “You let them convince you to change my memories? You’d do that? To me?”

              “It was for the good of the Cove.”

              He slammed his fist against the wall and small bits of wood splintered into my hair. “Bullshit, Jani. That’s…that’s bullshit.”

I wished I could erase that expression from his face. I wished I could have seeped into his mind and laid another block, layered something sweet, something real over the truth. But I couldn’t. Even if I had the power, Bane would have never let me inside his head. Not anymore.

As he watched me, looking deceived, looking as though he’d never seen the real me, ever, I had another of those outside-of-myself moments. I floated above us, looking down as Bane glared, as his gaze moved around my features as though he would never see them again. I watched him, watched myself and could nearly make out the thick weight of tension that flitted between us. The heat, the anger, the rage all mixed and pulsed together with the lingering scent of sex and the memory of what we’d done in that room just a short time before. It was an intoxicating brew that made my head feel weighted and my heart heavy.  When Bane stepped back, taking his gaze from my features and his warmth from the room, I came back to myself and jumped into that crumbling body as it fell to the floor.

It was like a song I only half remembered. So clear, so haunting and all I needed was to float toward it, feel it, touch it, hold that power in the palm of my hands. If I’d only reach the Elam, secure it, then I could be rid of the guilt I felt. Restoring the Cove to the way things were before I came here would make things right. Bane would have his place in the coven leadership and my family would no longer have to struggle the effect of the lies and damage Ronan had caused.

So I followed the simple, sweet song that called me forward as Sam and I left the cabin and the night behind us as it led me to the Elam.

“Something is off here, Jani, can’t you feel it?””

“No,” I told my brother, too distracted by the song, by the pull of that energy as we climbed into the deepest part of the wood. “No, I don’t feel anything but the Elam.”

Distantly, I knew he was right. There was something off, something that did not fit together as it should. The air felt too thin up there on the hill. The maples around us were too still. But I could no more give attention to the things that were not right than I could ignore that song pulling me close.

“Jani, maybe we should call Papa. Maybe he can twist a spell that…” my brother’s suggestion died quickly, silenced by the loud rattle of an explosion and billowing smoke that arose from the town. We couldn’t see anything but the smoke rising, despite Sam dragging me near the ridge to look down into the valley toward the groves. There was nothing but the empty woods and the rustle of branches within them. “Fire?” he asked, already moving down the trail.

“Dunno. Probably.” My skin felt dry, itched as though the Elam knew we were walking away from it and protested by thinning the air even further. “Sam, we’re close.”

“Yeah,” he said, but didn’t look at me, kept his attention on the empty ridge and the sirens that began to sound. “Probably just…”

“Go check it if you want. You can get a signal from the cabin. It’s not that far away.”

“And leave you on your own?”

“What’s going to hurt me out here? I’m protected by the lines and anyone who wants me needs me so there’s nothing to worry over. Go,” I nodded toward the trail, knowing it wouldn’t take much for my brother to quell his curiosity. “I’ll be fine.”

Sam looked at me for a long time then. It reminded me of the day I arrived home after our mother died. It was a look of apology but Sam had nothing to apologize for. He’d taken me on the trail because I was his sister. He’d leave because he knew I could handle myself. Still, the frown he gave me was too stiff; the low lidded cast of his eyes was too apologetic. I’d never seen my brother looking so ashamed.

“What?” I asked him, eager to put some distance behind me.

“I just…” Sam stopped, glancing once more down the trail as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I hate that you got stuck in the middle of this. Again.”

“It’s what I do, big brother. Straighten out the messes.”

“Hey, Jani, I don’t want…” but what Sam didn’t want, I never found out. Yet another explosion sounded behind him and he lowered his shoulders, nodding once before he ran down the trail toward the cabin. “I’ll be back,” he said over his shoulder, but I knew he wouldn’t. At least, I knew I wouldn’t wait for him.

I was close to the Elam and the further into the woods I walked, the louder that sweet song sounded.

The wood broke up then, just a few feet further and the pulse of the Elam grew even stronger. It felt like pure energy, something that tinkled against my skin and made my flesh pimple. Sound went numb and I could only make out the low hum around me as I walked close toward a small outcropping of trees circling a bare patch of grass and there, lying in the center, all alone on the ground, was the Elam.

It pulsed and hummed the closer I walked toward it, singing sweetly, like a lover I’d forgotten I’d had and wanted again. I wanted to touch it, take it, keep it with me always. The stone was a brilliant turquoise shaped like a strong, fine tortoise and it would fit perfect in the center of my hand. I just knew it would be smooth to the touch, warm as I held my open hand over the top of it. It was mine, somehow merely looking at it told me as such. All I had to do was pick it up, grip it once and claim it. No one else would dare touch it once it was mine. Stretching my fingers towards it, I noticed the fine, small hairs on my arm standing up and a small brush of chill peppering around my wrist. Nearly there, nearly mine.

But, like most things I wanted, it was out of my reach. Suddenly I was on the ground with some smelly, heavy weight pinning my hands at my side. “Don’t you damn well touch that thing.”

***

“Damn, woman, don’t you recognize a thrall when you see it?”

              Until Hamill said it, I actually hadn’t known the thrall for what it was. Feeling stupid, I stepped out of his grip, moving back into the wooded area of the forest and away from the Elam on the ground.

              “That obvious and I missed it.”

              “It happens,” Hamill said, leaning against a tree, winded. Almost perversely, he pulled a crumpled pack from his pocket and withdrew a cigarette; his long fingers were narrow and smudged at the tips, stained with tobacco. “You can’t know what it is when it happens. Not always.” He lit his cigarette, taking a long drag as he watched me. “Why’d you take off?”

              “You threatened me.” When he didn’t react to my accusation, I kept explaining. “I might miss when something is enthralled but I don’t miss when someone hates me and my family and wants to do us harm.” Feeling a little calmer, somewhat more relaxed, I stood in front of Hamill. “I wasn’t going to stick around and wait for you to attack.”

              Hamill was cool then, smooth, taking his time with his cigarette, inhaling deep and releasing his smoke through his nose as though he needed a second to figure me out. “Don’t recall threatening you.”

              “You said…”

              “What I said was, ‘If I could, I’d rip you all to pieces.’ There’s a difference to what I think should happen and what I’d actually do.”

              “Why?” Hamill didn’t stop smoking, didn’t even pause as I stepped closer. “What did we ever do to you?”

              He took a second to spit on the ground next to my foot and when he spoke, his words were weighted, as though he hadn’t gotten rid of all the phlegm in his throat. “Your father is responsible for my cousin being in jail.” Hamill flicked his spent cigarette on the ground, stomping on it as he walked toward me. “Ronnie’s a good shifter, just ran with the wrong crowd, and when he got pissed drunk and passed out at a fire—stuck in his wolf form—and then woke up to the cops asking questions, well, your father couldn’t get him out of it. That’s what he’s supposed to do, isn’t it? Get us out of tight spots?”

It was an assumption everyone made. My father’s business was smoothing over messy situations to keep the mortals ignorant. It wasn’t his job to cover up for idiots who couldn’t control themselves. “No, Hamill, that’s not what he does and if your cousin was too stupid to keep away from mortals when he shifts or when he drinks, then he deserves to be in jail.”

“Say that again, woman,” Hamill said, darting toward me. There was a wicked shake to his hand and small wild glint in his eyes. “I fucking dare you.”

“Calm yourself,” I started, stretching my fingers in case Hamill came any closer, but before anything could happen, the shifter stiffened, then slumped to the ground at my feet with Joe Arvel standing over him, the butt of a revolver in his hand.

“Got tired of waiting.”

It was a shock to see him, out there with no one around, away from the search parties, away from anyone I trusted. The thought lingered then, a little distant that I should keep my edge, worry how and why Joe had just knocked Hamill to the ground. Maybe if Elam’s song hadn’t sounded so sweet, kept me calm, my awareness would have been sharper. Still, I thought fleetingly that it was good to see Joe, he had a kind face, but felt a strange shiver of alarm when I spotted the smudges and tears on his clothes and the soot and ash covering his knuckles.

“Joe?” I asked, nodding to his hands. “What happened?”

“Fire. Big one.” He walked toward me, stepping over Hamill’s inert body.  I kept my attention on the gun in his hand. “Had to get Sam away from you. Knew he wouldn’t stay here if he thought more of the Cove was going up in flames.”

“Why…” I walked backward, careful to keep enough distance between us that I’d be able to twist a hex at him if I needed to. “Why did you want Sam gone?”

The shifter looked genuinely surprised, tilting his head as though he needed a second to make certain I wasn’t teasing him. “I needed you.”

“Me? Whatever for?”

“To destroy the Elam.”

He didn’t wait for me to run off. Joe, in fact, seemed very determined to get on with the task at hand and, despite my fidgeting away from him, was still able to pull me out of the woods to sit near the Elam pulsing on the ground.

“You’ll want explanations, I suppose.” He sat across from me, leaning his arms on his knees. “That’s alright. I’d want them too.”

Around us the morning was dying but there was no activity from the animals or birds—not even insects—in this part of the forest. It gave the clearing an eerie, disturbed vibe that unsettled me more that I wanted to admit. “You did this? The spelling? The storm last night?” I waved my hand around the still sky and shook my head when Joe’s smile stretched wide. “You stole the Elam?” He nodded. “You knocked Bane out?”

“Took help, but yeah. I did that.” He moved closer and I hated the proud little glint that made his smile widen. “He’s not so big and powerful if you’ve got the right hex.”

“But you’re a shifter.”

A small shrug and Joe waved off my assessment. “Shifter part comes from my mother. The wizard bit comes from my father, though you’d never know it.” At the mention of his father that smile went cold and there was a curl on his top lip that made him look angry, bitter “I look nothing like the Grants, do I?”

“You’re a Grant?”

“The bastard son of Carter Grant.” He picked at the sparse tufts of grass at his feet, then threw the small sprigs absent-mindedly on the ground.  The curl of his lip exaggerated. “Rightful heir to the Grant coven.”

“Bane’s cousin.”

Joe’s nod was dismissive and he looked away from me, glancing only once at the Elam with something akin to longing in his eyes. That’s how he’d done it, I realized. His own blood, but blood without skill was weak at beast. He’d have needed Bane’s blood to strengthen the hex and take the Elam.

“Mom was a poor, stupid shifter traveling through the Cove to her folk in Mississippi. One too many beers at Batty’s and Grant convinced her to stay the weekend.” He jerked his attention back to me and I could hear the resentment, the cool anger in his tone. “Guess he wasn’t expecting me. None of them were and they damn sure had no problem sweeping me under the rug when she died two years later. Your father really is very good at his job, isn’t he?”

It made sense to me. My father was traditional to the core. Of course he’d do Grant’s bidding, no matter if he could stomach what that job was personally. It was an old argument we’d never been able to settle. What’s right verses what’s necessary. Still, Joe mentioned my father with the same bitterness in his tone that he’d used speaking about Grant and I hoped that his anger for both of them wasn’t the same. They were very different men. “So this is revenge? All of this? To get back at Grant and my father?”

“This is beyond revenge, Jani.” Joe’s eyes were a little too wide and bloodshot. It gave him a frantic, desperate look. “You should know that. I need you.”

“Me?”

“Who else would side with me, help me destroy the Cove, destroy the secret, but the only girl to escape the Grants?” Joe took to pacing then, walking around the Elam, behind me as he spoke like he couldn’t keep himself still. “The only witch to walk away despite what they did to you.”

“What did they do to me, Joe? My family…” I scrambled to my feet when he darted toward me, holding up my hands to keep him back. “They’ve done nothing wrong.”

“No? Your father, my father, they didn’t conceal the fact that you and Bane were meant to meld? They didn’t try to keep you apart just to ensure the lines are strengthened?” When I said nothing, Joe shook his head, likely understanding that I had no idea what he was talking about. “Your own father didn’t keep shifting your memories, shifting Bane’s so you wouldn’t remember all the times as kids you almost melded?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No? That’s not what Ronan said. That’s not what your twin told him.”

“Ronan?”

I felt stupid, pathetic when Joe looked at me like that. Pity. It was written all over his face. “I needed an in, Jani. I needed someone who would help get you back here. Sabotaging the jobs your father did was easy enough. I needed you here because I knew no one else would help me. Well, until Sam, that is.”

My head went woolen and clouded then. This, all of this, was like something out of a bad super villain comic. My twin? My brother? My own father stealthily sabotaging my life so that they could conceal the truth? My father in concert with Carter Grant didn’t surprise me. Him working his hexes to conceal what the lines wanted for me and Bane was a theory that had bounced around in my head for years. The possibility that it could be true hurt like a bitch. But Mai and Sam knowing about it and remaining silent? That was too much to accept.