Later that afternoon, as Sebastian attended to business and Arabella wrangled the aunts down for a nap, Mackenzie escaped to the gardens with their maze of herbs, boxed hedges, and large oak trees.
She truly loved this place.
The temperature consistently sat in the mid-seventy-degree range, or as any country other than the States registered temperature: twenty-three degrees. Although she’d traveled extensively for her modeling career, she still needed to stop and think about the conversion from Celsius to Fahrenheit when she was in a foreign country.
Laughing at her own silliness, she swirled a hand in the air to kick up the currents. The trees around her danced, and the wind through their branches whispered her name. The fallen leaves rose and formed in the shape of a heart before morphing into something entirely different.
A child’s giggle came from behind one of the trees bordering the garden.
With a slight grin, Mackenzie swirled her hand to gather more leaves. This time, she formed the words, “Hi, I’m Mack.”
A dark-haired sprite of a child peeked from around the tree. The smile slowly died from the girl’s face as she looked at her. “I’m sorry.”
“For what, honey?”
“For what my grandmother will do to you.”
This precious girl’s sincere apology struck Mackenzie’s psyche like a physical blow. Her blood turned to ice, and her heart hammered double-time to pump the frozen sludge through her veins as a feeling of doom struck her. “Who’s your grandmother?” She wanted to ask why the hell the woman would target her, but she didn’t want to frighten the child.
Before she could answer, an instantaneous flash of light split the space between them, and a black-haired, black-eyed man appeared in front of the girl. Obviously her father, based on the resemblance. He looked a bit harried, and irritation turned his full mouth down at the corners as he gave Mackenzie a once-over.
Dismissing her, he faced his daughter. “What did I tell you about leaving the estate, beastie?” he ground out.
With his hands on his lean hips, his muscular upper body was displayed to advantage. His stance triggered a memory.
“You’re Damian Detheridge. The Aether,” Mackenzie blurted. She’d seen him years ago when she was younger. And holy hell, the man never seemed to age. With his power, he probably could glamour into the divine creature before her.
“She was making the leaves dance, Papa,” the child said, coming out from behind the tree and skipping toward her. All sense of worry for her grandmother’s impending deeds seemingly gone as a mischievous grin took the place of her somber frown. “Will you show him, Mack?”
Unbidden, a wide smile formed on Mackenzie’s lips. This little girl was too precious for words. “Of course. Tell me what you wish to see?”
“A dragon!”
“Huh. Well, now we know why your papa calls you a beastie. Seems as if you like the darker side of nature,” Mackenzie teased as she called forth all the fallen leaves from the ground. She moved her hands as if she were sculpting a great work of art, careful to get the proportions of the dragon’s head and body correct for what she had in mind. The darker crinkly leaves formed the scales of the creature’s chest and the triangular tip of the tail. For the claws, she used broken twigs.
“There. I think that about has it, don’t you?” she asked the girl.
“Make him growl!”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Damian shake his head with an indulgent half smile. Obviously, he was used to the girl’s precocious ways and adored her.
“Of course. What’s a dragon without a fierce growl?” Mackenzie bit her lip to hide her amusement and, once again, waved her hands about. “Abracadabra! A growling dragon you shall be!”
She was careful to soundproof the garden so any mortals in the surrounding area didn’t crap their pants at the echoing roar.
The child’s eyes flew wide in delight, and she ran forward as if to hug Mackenzie. She was stopped short by her father’s hand on her shoulder, but it didn’t kill her enthusiasm. “Oh, thank you! Thank you!”
“Well done, Ms. Thorne,” Damian said with a deep chuckle. “Sabrina will live on this for a week.”
By calling her Ms. Thorne, the Aether basically told her he’d known who she was from the moment he set foot in the garden. Interesting. She wanted to question him, but Sabrina interrupted her train of thought.
“Will you make an elephant? Will you, Mack? Please?”
“I believe we’ve taken up enough of Ms. Thorne’s time, beastie,” her father admonished gently.
“But she won’t be able to do it when the darkness gets her, Papa.”
Again, a cold sensation swept through Mackenzie’s cells. She squatted in front of the child. “Should I be aware of something I’m currently not, honey?”
Sabrina frowned and looked toward the back of the property. Her face tilted up to meet her father’s cautious gaze.
“What do you see, Sabrina? Best tell us now, my love.”
“The Darkness wants her, too, Papa,” she said forlornly.
Mackenzie could feel the blood drain from her face. She didn’t know what the hell the Darkness was, but this was the second time the girl mentioned it, and Mack was beginning to freak the fuck out. Because she was in serious danger of falling over, she sat back on her rump and placed her palm flat against her chest, hoping to calm her thudding heart. Her skirt would need a magical laundry booster to remove the grass and dirt stain that was bound to be on the seat after she’d connected with the damp ground.
“Ms. Thorne, are you all right?”
Damian squatted beside her. Underneath his concerned mask was a grimness. As if his daughter’s words had disturbed him as much as they did Mackenzie. He didn’t reach a hand to her, and she was curious why such a gentleman wouldn’t extend that simple courtesy.
“I’m a little thrown by this conversation, if we’re being honest.” She met the tearful eyes of Sabrina. “What’s the Darkness?”
The little girl shrugged, and she looked much younger than she had mere minutes ago.
Damian twisted slightly to look at his daughter. He gently pinched her chin to tilt her face up. “The Darkness will never get you, my love. The woman who conjured it is gone now.” He tapped her nose. “I promised you I’d protect you always, and don’t I always keep my promises?”
Sabrina nodded and patted her father’s face with a worshipful look. “Yes, Papa.”
The two shared a bond that turned Mackenzie’s heart to mush. Theirs was a father-daughter relationship to be treasured. With the easing of Sabrina’s fear, Mackenzie’s own trepidation dissolved. Perhaps the warning was only a child’s flight of fancy?
“How old are you, Sabrina?” she asked.
“Six.”
Mackenzie smiled and nodded. That was it then. The girl was doing what children all around the globe did—letting her imagination take flight. Maybe the worried look she sent her father had been for the trouble she might get into. What Mackenzie couldn’t shake was the Aether’s initial reaction to the word “Darkness.” As if he’d suddenly wanted to scoop his daughter up and lock her away from any danger. His eyes had sharpened as his body tensed. Alert. Prepared for danger.
At her first opportunity, she decided to corner Damian and discover what this was all about. To have him fill her in on the witch who’d conjured the evil to begin with. For sure, it wasn’t anything serious if the Aether was no longer worried, and maybe Sabrina’s fear was due to residual danger to a past experience, but Mackenzie had to be sure.
“So you wanted an elephant, huh?” she asked brightly, hoping to dispel any remaining pall hanging over the day. “Any particular color?”
Sabrina sat down beside her, crossed her legs, and rested her palms on her skinny little knees. “Sit, Papa,” she ordered, not bothering to look at him to see if he complied. “A pink elephant.”
The girl was queenly in her gestures, nodding her head at the place beside her in the dirt, ordering her father about. Damian, who looked like he’d rather eat glass than sit on the damp ground, tugged up his black slacks and complied without a word of protest.
Mackenzie couldn’t help it; she laughed. “A pink elephant for a pretty little princess. Got it.”
Gathering up the leaves, she pulled them to her and ran a fingertip over the bunch. They turned various shades from bubblegum to fuchsia. Next, she sorted them by color. Recalling her cousin Summer’s perverted rescue, Eddie, Mackenzie solidified the image in her mind. A flick of her wrist, and the leaves began building Sabrina’s elephant. With a little smirk, she drew a few of the green leaves from the mighty oaks, giving them a silent apology and a boost for growth, then formed an outrageous top hat.
“Do you want to see him march around?”
“Yes, please.” Sabrina’s voice trembled with excitement.
The elephant pranced about, tooting an off-key tune with its trunk. Sabrina’s laughter triggered Damian’s, and he reached to ruffle his daughter’s hair.
“Mack? What are you doing?”
Glancing over her shoulder, her smile widened to welcome Sebastian.
“Hi, Baz. I was just entertaining our guests—” Her words died in her throat when she turned toward the Dethridges. Mainly because they weren’t there, and the grass beside her was undisturbed. Not a flattened blade to be seen.
The dancing leaves returned to their former colors and shape and settled on the ground as she visually scanned the area, searching for a single sign of her previous company. “I don’t understand. They were right here.”
“Who was, Mack?” Sebastian’s tone was smooth and neutral, as if dealing with a dangerous mental patient.
She frowned in his direction. “Damian and Sabrina Dethridge.”
He paled and cast a wary glance around the garden. “We should go.”
“Do the Dethridges often pop into your garden?”
Sebastian lifted his head to stare at her. Behind the question, Mackenzie heard her own tremor of uncertainty. Because he hadn’t seen either Damian or his daughter, it was possible she’d imagined the entire incident. Perhaps she’d enacted a future event yet to unfold. Sometimes that happened with psychic witches, and anyone witnessing her talking to herself might look as Sebastian did now.
“I’ve spoken with Damian on occasion, but he’s never crossed the property line. Or rather, he hasn’t in quite some time. I’ve not heard of a daughter.”
She slowly nodded. “So, their appearance could be all my imagination?”
“I didn’t say that, love.”
Casting him a sad little smile, she said, “You didn’t have to.”
He opened his mouth, but no words came forth.
The well-known truth was that clairvoyant witches tended toward madness. They couldn’t maintain both the visions and their abilities together in the long run. The Witches’ Council had many documented cases where members of the magical community had had to have their powers bound or they went completely insane.
Sebastian would know that, which would explain his current reaction.
“Let’s not let it spoil our afternoon, Baz.” She wanted to wrap her arm through his, but he had a wary don’t-touch-me vibe about him. “How about you show me the maze? I’ve never seen one so extensive, and I fear I’ll be lost if I try it on my own.”
His expression eased, and he led her toward the break in the hedges. “Through here.”
Later that evening, as they were all sitting down to dine, Sebastian recalled their earlier conversation in the garden. Mackenzie had been so earnest in her claim the Dethridges had been on the property. He supposed it was possible, since their land bordered his, but Sebastian doubted Damian would set foot in the Drakes’ gardens if he could help it.
There was no love lost between the two men.
Also, he’d never heard tale of a daughter being born to Damian and his wife, Vivian, but Sebastian surmised they’d want to keep it hidden if possible. A child of such a powerful magical couple might attract unsavory characters looking to cash in on unlimited magic. If they could find a way to tap into the Aether’s source, they’d do it in a second.
Sebastian watched Mackenzie as she laughed and interacted with his family. She appeared to be perfectly normal, but madness didn’t always show on the outside.
As a psychic witch, she would be shunned by others of their kind, because not many witches with her ability lasted into their dotage with their mind intact. His own feelings about her were mixed. For a fact, he knew she’d never even appeared as a blip on the Witches’ Council’s radar. Although she might not if she was sheltered by the mighty Alastair Thorne—who was feared by all.
As his cousin, Mackenzie had most likely been protected. No one would dare challenge the most powerful of all the families. Even before, when it was only the Six, the Thornes had the greatest power.
Sebastian had grown up on stories of their greatness. Once upon a time, he’d believed by taking down Alastair, he could secure a seat for himself on the Council. He silently scoffed at his own naiveté. Going head to head with the patriarch of the Thorne family had been the stuff of nightmares. His own arrogance had nearly earned him a formidable enemy. Yet now, after peace had been brokered with a portrait and a defeated enemy, they were friends of a sort.
Someone at their table cleared their throat, and Sebastian jerked his attention from the contents of his wineglass.
“Forgive me, what did I miss during my woolgathering?”
“Aunt Gwennie said she saw the Dethridges from the window overlooking the garden,” Arabella said then took a dainty bite of roasted duck.
A glance at his aunt confirmed his sister’s comment.
“So Damian Dethridge was in our garden,” he murmured. The Aether venturing anywhere remotely close to the secret garden at the back of the property ruined Sebastian’s relief regarding Mackenzie’s sanity. But he raised his voice to a more moderate level, showing no sign of his inner turmoil. “Which one?”
“The one with the maze,” Gwennie volunteered.
“Is there a problem with having them visit?” Mackenzie asked between bites of the vegetable medley on her plate.
Hell, yes!
“No, I suppose not.” Sebastian shoved down his unease. Damian knew the risks. If he’d come here, he was confident everything would be fine.
“His daughter is darling.” She sipped her wine with a thoughtful frown.
“But?”
“No buts. I was simply thrown by her odd comments peppered throughout our conversation. I imagine it’s because she’s a child and they have such active imaginations.”
“What did she tell you, Mackenzie?”
She’d been about to cut a piece of her duck, but she must’ve caught the edge to his tone because she halted her action. “I’m not sure I could quote it verbatim, but it was something along the lines of ‘the Darkness’ wanting to get me.”
Sebastian stilled. Everyone at their table did, too. His family knew what it could potentially mean. “Are you sure she said ‘the Darkness’ and not something else?”
“Positive.”
He forcefully shoved back his chair and strode from the room. When he got to his study, he pulled out his phone and rang Damian.
“Dethridge.”
The smooth, cool tone of his neighbor’s voice set Sebastian’s teeth on edge. “Were you here today? In my garden?”
“You may want to introduce yourself instead of immediately going on the attack. You forget who you’re talking to, son,” came the acerbic reply.
“I haven’t forgotten anything, Dethridge. Not Vivian, not the fact we have to babysit your psychotic mother, not—”
The line went dead at the same time a golden rift split the night outside on the veranda. His study doors were slammed back on their hinges, glass shattering and raining down on the old, English-oak floors.
The Aether had arrived, and he was bloody furious.