Enlightened (Love and Light Series) (12 page)

You can’t escape, Loti.

She snapped her head up, spluttered and spit as the water filled her nose and mouth. She heard that voice somewhere before, but she couldn’t remember where. “No,” she whimpered.

You are only fooling yourself if you think you can run away.

She squeezed her eyes shut while thinking,
this is not real, this is not real.

Oh, but it is, sweet Loti, you are what you are and cannot fight it.

Loti trembled as something thick and hot and paralyzing slithered through the small shower space, her teeth chattering.

This is who you are—you are—

“No,” she screamed so hard and so loud her throat seized up, and she dissolved into coughing spasms. The living heat squirmed its way through her chest, up her throat, filling her nose. She clawed at her throat and face. Dizzy, so dizzy.
Don’t faint, don’t faint.
She slipped and fell backwards into the tub. She had one more moment to think,
don’t hit your head
, and then all was black.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti’s scream echoed from the next room at the same time Margarite’s wards alerted her that something had breached their protection spells. She dropped the pillow she held and sprinted for the bathroom. Rachel ran after her.

“Loti,” she yelled as she threw open the bathroom door.

What’s going on, Margarite?
Calisto’s voice murmured in Margarite’s head.

“I don’t know, Calisto. Something broke through our security and is attacking Loti.” She spoke out loud in her panic. “Our wards didn’t alert me it was happening until she screamed.” In the bathroom, the lights were out, but it was more than that—it was dark magic obscuring their vision. Stumbling in blackness, Margarite flailed her arms in front of her, the steam oppressive.

“I can’t see a thing,” Rachel yelled over the running shower as she stumbled into Margarite in the dark. The shower curtain rustled as Margarite shoved it aside.

“Calisto.” Margarite called out as her hands found Loti’s limp body and Rachel chanted a protection spell.

~~~~~~~~~~~

 The words spilled from Rachel’s mouth as she reached out for Loti in the heat and darkness with her power. Her voice deepened as she drew on her own power and Margarite’s voice and energy joined hers. She recognized a third familiar and very strong power—vampire magic.
Margarite must be bonded to Calisto
, she thought before the two women stretched out their awareness in a room obscured by the steam and darkness. Rachel could feel and taste death magic in the air.

It is powerful magic. And it is—

Rachel heard Calisto’s voice in her head as she patted around for Margarite’s hand, grappling with the shower curtain to keep from falling. “Margarite.” Rachel grabbed Margarite’s hand. “Help me.”

When the two women clasped hands, Rachel could see several things at once. With her magic, she sensed the dark magic binding itself to Loti, and with her physical eyes, she saw Loti’s collapsed form and the red rivulets of blood washing down the drain. Taking a deep breath, Rachel honed in on a dark blotch on Loti’s aura—Loti’s physical injury was not fatal—but someone had marked her at some unknown time. The mark was a magical link to someone. It had given that someone access to her, even through the layers of magical protection. Margarite, still holding Rachel’s hand, climbed into the tub, and Rachel helped her gather up Loti. She settled Loti between Margarite’s legs as the woman drew Loti tight against her. Slowing her respiration to an imperceptible level, Margarite turned her magic to the task of healing Loti’s injury.

Rachel’s power sizzled through the mark’s center, pushing the dark magic back as she followed it along an unseen metaphysical strand out into the ether. Momentarily disoriented in the vast space, she sensed whoever was at the other end of this must be very powerful. They had to be to work magic this strong from such a distance. Rachel jerked her head as her awareness popped up in a close, dark space with a low fire snapping in an open fireplace. A male figure with shoulder length hair sat upright in a leather club chair, eyes closed.

Who is he?
But before she could make out any features, his eyes snapped open. They churned with points of light and deep blackness that expanded, filling her vision as his power burst toward her. In confused horror she thought she recognized the magical signature. She had to cut the link before his power smashed into her. Back in the bathroom, hot water soaked her as she clung to Margarite’s hand. Loti’s eyes fluttered and the bathroom door banged against the wall.

“Margarite, are you alright? Is the woman alright?” A dark blur streaked to Margarite’s side, and a wavy-haired man turned off the water, cradling Margarite’s face as he looked down at Loti. Rachel backed up slowly, dropping Margarite’s hand, and turned to see two more men inside the bathroom door, arms slightly away from their bodies and knees bent, as if ready to spring. She skirted around the men to grab towels for the wet women in the tub.

“Yes, I think so. She’s waking up,” Margarite said as she helped Rachel wrap Loti in an oversized bath towel. Gentle fingers probed Loti’s head. “It’s healing.” She sighed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

 Loti opened her eyes to Rachel’s blurry face. “What happened?” she whispered.

“Well, tell me the last thing you remember,” Rachel asked.

 Cocooned in towels, Loti struggled to sit up.

“I was—” her eyes darted around the steamy room, “taking a shower and I heard a voice in my head. . .Rachel?”

Rachel loosened the towel so Loti could free her arms. As Loti wiggled her arms out, she glanced around at the three men and Margarite who was holding her in the tub. Her hands free, she brushed the wet strands out of her eyes. “And then I couldn’t breathe. I don’t know what happened after that.”

“You were attacked,” Rachel said. “But you’re safe now.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t protect you better.” Calisto’s voice was troubled as he knelt by the tub, helping Margarite maneuver out from under Loti while Rachel held her up. As Margarite stepped from the tub, Rachel looked over her shoulder. The two blank-faced vampires guarded the door, hands clasped in front of them.

“I think Loti needs some privacy.” Rachel said.

“Of course.” Calisto held Margarite by the shoulders, looking into her eyes. She nodded, and he kissed her on the cheek. Motioning to the men at the door, he said, “We will go.”

And just like that, they were gone. Margarite and Rachel unwrapped Loti, who swayed on her feet. Closing her eyes, Margarite held Loti’s head between both hands. She sighed as she opened stricken eyes and dropped her hands.

“It’s healing. At least I did that right.” She helped Loti rearrange the towels. Rachel’s hug was fierce, but Loti could only manage an anemic one in return.

 “Don’t beat yourself up, Margarite. I was right next door, and I didn’t sense anything until she screamed either,” Rachel said as she held Loti at arms distance. “How are you feeling?”

“Very weak,” Loti groaned.

“I wish we knew who it was.” Margarite rubbed her face with her hands.

“I think I know who may be involved,” Rachel said, her tone shaky and her eyes uncertain.

“Who?” both women chorused.

“Well, at least I think I know whose magic it was.”

Rachel guided Loti to the toilet and put the lid down for her to sit. Loti eased herself down with care and clutched her knees, trying to steady her nerves. Her head still throbbed where she’d hit the edge of the tub.

“When he threw that last blast of power at me, I recognized the signature, but it doesn’t make sense.” Rachel frowned as she turned to the windowsill beside the sink, digging through a basket full of toiletries until she fished out a hair brush. It shook as she handed it to Loti, who hesitated as she reached for the brush. Margarite gingerly lowered herself to the edge of the tub, eyeing Rachel.

She isn’t as okay as she wanted Calisto to believe
, Loti observed.

Rachel leaned against the white pedestal sink, arms crossed over her chest. “It felt like Patrick Lynch.”

Loti’s mouth hung open as she lowered the trembling brush to her lap. “You’ve got be kidding. Patrick?”

Nodding, Rachel uncrossed her arms and held onto the edge of the sink.

“The name sounds familiar.” Margarite tightened her grip on the claw foot tub. “Is he a member of your grandmother’s coven?”

Loti’s stomach shrunk into a hard ball. Patrick was the kindest, most beloved guy she knew. His life was all about others. He taught for the university, tutored, and mentored. His students loved him, even if he was the toughest metaphysics professor there. She’d known him since she was eighteen, and he’d been there for her when her Pop Pop passed away after freshman year. They’d played endless games of badminton with Rachel and her brothers and cousins at the countless Brown family picnics.

“You can’t believe he’d do something like this, Rachel?” Loti’s voice rose to a tight squeak.

“Where is he right now? Do you know?” Margarite asked.

“That’s the other thing,” Rachel said. “Besides the fact that Patrick would never do something like this, he’s in Ireland visiting with extended family. He left yesterday.”

Margarite nodded, staring hard at the floor.

“He’s a powerful warlock, Margarite, but not that powerful. To perform that kind of spell over such a long distance takes—”

“A lot of power. Yes, I know.” Margarite lifted her troubled gaze to Rachel.

“But this came from a long way. I felt the distance when I followed the magic.” Rachel worried a hangnail. “I got a glimpse of the guy and it wasn’t Patrick. I don’t understand.”

“You said he’s not that powerful.”

“Maybe he is now?” Rachel turned baffled eyes to Margarite.

Loti’s head swung like a tennis racquet from Rachel to Margarite to Rachel. She tucked her hair behind her ears and stood shakily. “I can’t believe Patrick would do this.”

“You said that already,” Rachel snapped as she hurried to Loti’s side, but Loti waved her off, yanking the towel up under her armpits.

“It was Patrick’s magic, Loti,” Rachel implored, her hands falling to her side. “Once you feel someone’s power, you don’t forget it. It’s like the sound of their voice, unique to them and hard to fake. Impossible to fake, actually.”

Loti shook her head. “I know your grandmother, and she wouldn’t associate with someone who would use their magic this way.” She glared at Rachel. “And I know Patrick. It’s not just the children’s cancer thing or that he’s a pillar of the community.” Her hard gaze dissolved into a desperate plea. “It’s the daisies he always brings your Nan and the way he looks at me and you like we’re his girls and he’s proud.” Loti hid her face in her hands, crying softly, the hairbrush still shaking.

“It was death magic.”

Margarite’s head snapped up and her knuckles turned white. Loti’s hairbrush clattered to the pine board floor.

“You should contact your grandmother. See if she can get ahold of him.” Margarite’s lips disappeared into a thin, tight line.

“I will.” Rachel hurried out of the bathroom.

Margarite stood awkwardly. “You should finish getting cleaned up, dear. I think we could both use something to eat and some tea, perhaps?” She laid a tired hand on Loti’s shoulder. “I’ll make us something that’ll calm our nerves and soothe our aches.”

Loti didn’t like the edge to Margarite’s voice. “What are you thinking?” she asked warily.

Margarite waved her hand. “Death magic is—”

“Death magic,” Loti spit out the words. “Someone or something had to die to make it.”

Margarite nodded a slow, unhappy nod, her hand weighing heavy on Loti’s shoulder. She stared blankly for a moment. Her mouth flitted around a small smile. “Let’s get something to eat and introduce you to our family. Maybe we can figure this out together.” She patted Loti’s shoulder, then left.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti zipped up her most comfortable blue jeans and pulled a V-neck Henley shirt with tiny pearlized buttons over her head. Cell coverage being almost nil in the Blue Ridge, Rachel went downstairs to talk to Nan on the house phone. Loti glanced at the digital clock by the futon bed—it was 7:00 pm.
How’d it get so late?
Rubbing the sore spot on the back of her head, she realized with a jolt that it was same place as Calla’s tumor. Their pediatrician had sent Calla to all the specialists in Philadelphia, Pittsburg, and even at John Hopkins, and they all tested her for every possible bacteria and virus. Complete toxicology workups were ordered, over and over, and multiple healers couldn’t find anything wrong with her stomach, either. Everyone speculated about unbalanced energy fluctuations, toxic build-up and mixed up herbal concoctions and blended essential oils, made tinctures and recommendations.