Darkness & Discovery (The Bespelled Trilogy #2) (7 page)

 “Put the bottle in my
hand.” I didn’t reach for it. I just stared him down, and finally he flinched
and gave me the whiskey. “Come on, you’re getting a shower.”

“Don’t want to.”

“Tough. You’re getting
a shower, even if I have to physically drag you upstairs and chuck you under
the water.”

“You couldn’t even lift
me,” he said with a drunk’s confidence.

“I used to have to do
the same thing with my stoned mother, when I was a whole lot smaller than I am
now. Wanna test me?” I continued to stare him down.

“Why do I need a
shower?” he whined.

“Because it’ll make you
feel better. And because you’re starting to smell like cheese,” I told him. And
he actually grinned at that, just a little.

“Yes, mum. Wouldn’t
want to start attracting vermin,” he murmured, the faintest hint of his old
self sparkling in his dark eyes.

I followed him up to
his bedroom, and he stopped short when he walked into the destroyed space.
“Well, hell,” he said, as if he was seeing it for the first time.

“Nothing we can do
about that now. Come on, just cut through to your bathroom,” I said.

He did as I asked, and
I turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature, then went to a
cabinet and pulled out a couple big towels and put them within reach. “Well?” I
asked him, crossing my arms over my chest. “What are you waiting for?”

“For you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving. I’m
going to stay and make sure you actually take a shower, and don’t just poof
yourself down to the wine cellar again.”

“You’re treating me
like a child,” Bryn said, crossing his arms over his chest, too.

“That’s because you’re
acting like one. Now get in the shower!”

“No.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because I don’t want
you to see my dangly bits.”

I smiled at that. “I
have no interest in seeing your dangly bits,” I told him as I turned my back to
him.

“Oh, believe me love
,
no one
does.” He tossed his ripped, dirty pajamas on the floor and stepped
into the shower.

After a few minutes
under the hot water, he said quietly, “Philippe left me, you know.”

It was hard to hear him
over the running water, so I stepped closer to the shower, my back to the glass
as I asked, “What happened?”

“I’m a total arse,
that’s what happened.”

He didn’t elaborate, so
finally I ventured, “How long were you two together?”

“Forever. For a moment.
Not nearly long enough,” he said, waxing poetic. His speech was very slightly
slurred, showing the alcohol had more of an effect on him than he’d claimed.

“So, what happened,
Bryn? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I told you. I was an
arse. I did something unforgivable, and he took off.”

“Did you go after him?
Did you apologize?”

“Of course. I followed
him all the way to France. He always runs home when he’s upset. But he refused
to forgive me. He said…he said he hates me.”

“I don’t believe it. He
can’t hate you,” I insisted.

“That’s the thing about
love, Luna. It absolutely can turn to hate. Just like that, one extreme to the
other. All it takes is betrayal,” he said. I thought about Alastair and
Elizabeth, and wondered if maybe there was some truth to that. 

“But you couldn’t have
betrayed Philippe.”

“Not intentionally. But
I
did
betray him.” The water shut off now and I stepped to the side,
holding one of the fluffy dark red towels out behind me. Bryn took the towel
and secured it around his waist, then reached for the other towel and began
rubbing his hair with it.

“Not intentionally? So
what happened?” 

Bryn sighed and sat on
the counter, wrapping the second towel around his head like a giant turban.
“I…ok, this is going to sound completely daft. But I…remembered what it was
like to kiss Augustine.”

“You kissed Augustine?”

“
Noooo
. I just
remembered
what it felt like to kiss him. I haven’t actually kissed him in centuries.”

“Ok, I’m confused.”

“It all started when I
saw Augustine, when we worked that locator spell at my warehouse. I hadn’t seen
him in years, and I’d almost forgotten…well, this is going to make me sound
like a complete cad, but I’d almost forgotten how stunningly beautiful he is.”
Bryn frowned and shook his head.

“So what happened?”

“Well, nothing really.
He was just on my mind for the next few days. I hardly ever let myself think
about him, but there he was. Out of the blue, I started…well, I started missing
him. Which was insane! Why would I miss someone I despise? Never mind the fact
that I was in a loving, committed relationship, so why was I even
thinking
about someone else? Especially
this
someone else! It was all terribly
confusing.”

“I can imagine.”

“So, all these thoughts
of Augustine made me want to remember why I fell for him in the first place, all
those centuries ago.” He glanced up at me from beneath his dark lashes. “And you’ve
seen the way I remember things, Luna.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember that party,
the first time you came to my house? That was a memory from 1986, one I fully
rendered, completely brought to life. I made the memory look and feel real, I
made it tangible. And that’s how I remembered what it felt like to kiss
Augustine. You know what’s bloody awkward? Having your boyfriend walk in on you
when you’re making out with a memory.”

“So you…oh.”

“Yeah. I mean, it was
just a kiss. It wasn’t even that, really – it was just me
remembering
a
kiss. But it looked and felt real, both to me and to Philippe. Never mind that
I dispelled the memory immediately, so Philippe knew it was just an illusion.
It was still a betrayal. It still hurt him terribly. Especially because it was
Augustine of all people that I was remembering. Philippe knows my history with
him, and always felt threatened by it.” Bryn sighed and said, “And he left, and
I’m an arse, and that’s the end of the story. And God I want another drink.”

“If you don’t mind my
asking, what
is
your history with Augustine? What is he to you?”

“He’s…my savior. My
mentor. My first love. My worst enemy. My biggest regret. The last person I
should ever be with. The one person I can never truly forget.” Bryn scrubbed
his hands over his face.

“Wow. How did you meet him?”

“Funny story,” he said
with a frown. “I was being stoned to death by my family and friends, and
Augustine swooped in and rescued me.”

“Oh God!”

“Yeah, so, here’s a
tip: if you find yourself living in rural Wales over three hundred years ago,
don’t accidentally let anyone know you can do magic. Because that will not win
you any popularity contests.”

“Oh no.”

“Well, I knew better
than to show my abilities. I’d kept them hidden my whole life. I just slipped
up that one day.” Bryn looked down at his slender hands. “I had to. A huge pile
of timber had started to fall on one of the children from the village. So I
stopped the logs in mid-air. I didn’t even think about it.”

He took a deep breath
and continued, “We were in the town square, and it was crowded. Everyone saw.
And everyone started yelling, ‘Witch! Witch!’ Didn’t really have a chance to
correct them, to point out that the term is
warlock
thank you very much,
because immediately, one of my neighbors grabbed me and flung me up against a
wall, and another threw a rock at me. It took just moments for a huge crowd to
gather, all of them red-faced and yelling, all of them throwing stones.”

Bryn paused to take
another deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he said, “The worst part,
the absolute worst, was that I looked up at the villagers as they were trying
to kill me. And I saw my father and brother in the crowd, throwing rocks with
the rest of them. I saw my aunt, my cousins, friends, neighbors doing the same.
Everyone
turned on me. I was so gutted that I didn’t even try to defend
myself. I just fell to my knees and waited to die.”

I picked up his hand
and held it between both of mine, tears running down my cheeks as I whispered,
“Bryn, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok, love. The
story has a happy ending. Kind of,” he said, patting my hand. “Suddenly, a
figure in a black hooded cloak tore through the crowd, dropping bodies in its
wake. It was so fast that I couldn’t even comprehend what was happening. Within
thirty seconds, every single person in the village square was dead, except for
this stranger and me. I was sure the devil himself had come to claim me, and
still I did nothing to defend myself. He knelt beside my broken and bleeding
body, and watched me for a moment from beneath his dark hood. And then he
reached out for me, pale, delicate hands smoking when the sunlight hit them,
and lifted me gently into his arms.”

“Augustine,” I said
quietly.

Bryn nodded. “He carried
me indoors, all the while talking to me, soothing me, reassuring me. And after
he set me on a small cot, he took off his heavy cloak and covered me with it. I
really thought I was looking into the face of an angel, even though his lips
and the front of his shirt were covered with blood. I’d never seen anything so
beautiful.” Bryn fell silent for a few moments, his thoughts a million miles
away.

And all of a sudden, we
were there in that little cottage in Wales, his memory surrounding us. I saw
Augustine, looking exactly as he did now, kneeling beside Bryn’s battered body,
instructing him quietly but urgently, teaching him how to heal himself. I could
smell food cooking in the hearth, feel the breeze coming in the open window,
taste dust in my mouth. I watched in amazement as Bryn concentrated on
Augustine’s words, their eyes locked, his twisted limbs gradually
straightening, his wounds closing. He was still bruised and bloody at the end
of it, but he was whole again. And even though he was sobbing, I could feel his
gratitude as if I was there in his place.

“Anyway,” Bryn said,
and immediately the scene around us vanished, replaced with the humid bathroom.
“That’s how we met. Needless to say, I had a hard time learning to trust him
after seeing him slaughter my entire village, everyone I’d ever known. But I
stayed with him anyway for the next three decades, and he helped me develop my
powers. He took me to Russia, to Greece, later to China, seeking out the most
powerful witches and warlocks he could find, and convincing each of them to
teach me what they knew.”

“When did he become
more than just your mentor?”

“We became romantically
involved when I’d been with him for twenty seven years. It happened gradually.
I knew it was a mistake even then, but I’d fallen in love with him. We were
together three more years before I finally made myself leave him.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“I had to. Augustine
was a remorseless killer while we were together. And one day I realized that
all the murder, all the bloodshed, had started to seem
normal
to me. I
was becoming as dark as he was. As soon as I realized that, I left him.”

“And he let you go?”

Bryn grinned at me and pulled
the towel off his head, rubbing his hair into damp spikes as he said, “He
didn’t have a choice. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m actually an
incredibly powerful warlock.”

I grinned too. “Yeah, I
did actually notice that about you. But I’ve also noticed that Augustine is
really manipulative, and probably wouldn’t let you go without a fight.”

“He was less than
thrilled, and did in fact try everything in his power to stop me. But it’s kind
of hard to stop someone that can incinerate you with a thought.”

“You can do that?”

“Again, refer to
‘incredibly powerful warlock’ statement.” He was grinning again.

“But that’s not the end
of your and Augustine’s story,” I said.

“It should have been.
But I only said I’m powerful, not smart. Every couple decades, I’d backslide
and go see him. Moth to a flame, and all that clichéd rubbish. I finally pulled
the plug once and for all when I found Allie almost dead in the street outside
Augustine’s home in London, and learned Augustine had tortured him. That’s what
made me hate Augustine, and the more I got to know Allie, the more my hatred
grew. Before, all those years we were together, I guess I convinced myself he
killed out of necessity, just because he needed to feed. But this, this was
something else entirely, and he was remorseless. It showed me what Augustine
was truly capable of. And for the last two centuries, I’ve hated him.”

“Mostly.”

Bryn sighed and agreed,
“Mostly.”

“Why’d you call him
when Philippe left?”

“I drunk-dialed him as soon
as I got back from France, and tried to make the breakup his fault somehow. As
if I could blame someone else for my own stupidity. He asked if he could come
over – normally, this place is warded to keep him back a mile. And I said yes,
and told him I planned to kill him as soon as he got here. But you know what I
did instead?” Bryn said, cocking an eyebrow at me. “I collapsed into his arms
and started sobbing like a teeny little baby. And he’s been here ever since.
Being
nice
to me. Making me
soup
, for God’s sake. Soup!”