To Alastair, there was no mistaking Hugh Cunningham’s intentions. Although the man appeared like a bumbling fool and tried to convince them he was innocent of any wrongdoing, the intent to harm lurked under the surface. The question was whether Hugh was targeting Mackenzie on purpose or whether he had a bone to pick with Sebastian and decided to use Mack as a tool against him.
With a mere wave of his hand, Alastair tossed Hugh onto the nearest chair. It rocked back under his weight, and Hugh scrambled to keep it from tipping over.
Alastair pinned him with a mere look. “Don’t move!”
The air around them vibrated with his fury, and the occupants of the room, not related by blood, cast him a wary glance. He didn’t bother to reassure them. A ruthless reputation benefited him at times like these.
“Cunningham, you’ve just declared war on my family with your foolish move,” he said in a low, lethal tone. “Why shouldn’t I kill you on the spot?”
Someone behind him echoed Hugh’s shocked cry.
Alastair ignored it.
“Well, boy?”
“I didn’t. I wouldn’t. A faulty ring design. Faulty ring.”
He raised a brow and narrowed his eyes. “You expect anyone to believe that?”
Hugh looked five seconds away from strangling on his own fear. If the fool wasn’t close to wetting himself, Alastair was Morty’s uncle and he would need to up his game.
“Yes. No. No. I…” Hugh swallowed audibly. He turned beseeching eyes to Mackenzie and Arabella. “Please don’t let him kill me.”
Based on their matching flinty expressions, Hugh was getting no sympathy there.
Alastair almost smiled.
“I’ll ask you one time, Cunningham. If you don’t come clean, I’ll stop playing nice.” He could practically smell the man’s fear. For sure, he could feel it.
“What do you want to know?”
“Why were you after Mackenzie’s blood?”
Hugh paled, if possible. His eyes darted sideways as if noting the exit doors.
“Cunningham!”
The force of Alastair’s anger slapped Hugh, and his head jerked.
“I want to wake the Enchantress.” The confession seemed to cost him, and he slumped in his seat, looking defeated.
“How do you even know about her, and what does my blood have to do with it?” Mackenzie demanded as GiGi finished healing her wound. “And why, for the sake of the Goddess, would you want to do something like that?”
“She is everything,” Hugh said simply, turning his face up toward Mackenzie. “And you are the only one worthy enough to make it happen.”
She shook her head and squatted beside his chair. “No, Hugh. She’s evil, and she’ll murder to possess more and more power. You have to see how wrong this is.”
Alastair gave her credit for trying to reason with Hugh, but he knew a zealot when he saw one. A small sliver of unease danced along his nerve endings. “Mackenzie, come away now, child.”
She looked back at him, but before she could move, Hugh had his arm around her throat and a knife pressed to her breast.
Rage clouded Alastair’s vision for a split second, but he shoved it away. Now was not the time to give in to his fury, but oh, how Cunningham would pay.
“Hugh, please don’t do this,” Arabella begged. “If you ever cared about my brother, let Mack go. She’s his everything.”
Mackenzie’s heart thudded at Arabella’s words. Although Sebastian had told her he loved her, she’d doubted his feelings were as powerful as hers. Yet hearing Arabella say differently made Mack’s soul sing.
Instead of fighting her captor, Mackenzie decided to humor him. “Hugh, take the ring and go do what you must. None of us will fight you.”
“The hell you say!” Alastair sneezed. His shock and anger whipped around the room, causing anything not nailed down to tremble under the force of his emotion. GiGi and Ryker were quick to fist their hands and fend off the wave of locusts sure to descend on the estate as a direct result of Alastair’s swearing.
GiGi placed a calming hand on her brother’s arm. “Al, rein it in.”
Mackenzie met her cousin’s violet-blue gaze across the short distance. It appeared GiGi was the more level-headed of the two siblings at the moment.
A wave of affection for Alastair crashed over Mackenzie. He’d reacted as if she were one of his own children, and she loved him all the more for it. When his dark sapphire eyes locked on her, she smiled her understanding, knowing he could feel her love for him.
He looked pained, yet decisive. “Take what you need and go, Cunningham.”
Hugh’s grip around her neck tightened slightly, and Mack worried he’d cut off her ability to breathe in his nervousness. “I’ll take Mackenzie.”
“Wrong answer, you fool,” Alastair snarled. “Commoro!”
With one simple command, he’d locked Hugh in place, incapacitating him.
“Uh, cousin, his arm’s still locked around my neck,” Mackenzie croaked out.
An arctic smile curled Alastair’s lips. “Then I’ll have to detach it, won’t I?”
Hugh whimpered.
“That’s one way, but I don’t wish to have blood all over my lovely blouse. Can you unfreeze his arm long enough to pry it away?”
“Mackenzie, my dear, I thought you were the adventurous one of this generation. Why are you spoiling my fun?” Alastair ran his hand from Hugh’s elbow to his wrist, using magic to unlock the joints of Hugh’s arm long enough to release her.
“This is Dolce & Gabbana, cousin. Blood isn’t so easy to remove from silk.”
“We’re witches. You could conjure another,” he argued, humor heavy in his tone. “Or better yet, buy another.”
“This one has sentimental value, and that’s all I’m saying on the matter. Now…” She turned to face Hugh, and with every ounce of strength she possessed, she clocked him with her fist. “That’s for being a dirty, rotten piece of shit!”
“Bravo, child! I knew you had it in you.”
She shook out her hand and sent Alastair an amused glance. “You taught me well. Now, what do we do with him?”
GiGi stepped forward, hands on her hips and a determined glint in her eye. “I have just the idea.”
Alastair laughed even as Ryker groaned.
“Don’t laugh, Al. It only encourages her mean streak,” Ryker said.
Although GiGi narrowed her eyes, she didn’t look at her husband.
He stepped forward and wrapped a hand around her waist. “And what, pray tell, my dearest love, is your idea.”
“Your only love. And I say let’s take him out to meet the Enchantress he adores so much.”
Mackenzie gasped, shocked her aunt would do something so cold-blooded. Yet, even as she felt appalled at the idea, a small part of her clung to it. She found herself nodding. “Yes. I think you’re right.”
Alastair cut her a sharp glance. His face took on a thoughtful look as he turned his attention back to Hugh.
Only Arabella and Gwennie seemed disturbed by this new plan.
“If you’ll beg my pardon, Lady Kilbride.” Nathanial shuffled forward in his old, butler disguise. “I must insist we wait until Lord Kilbride and Master Dethridge return to make any drastic decisions as to Mr. Cunningham’s demise.”
Hugh let out a choked sound and began sweating more profusely than he already was.
Mackenzie was hard-pressed not to laugh. She didn’t know whether Nathanial’s pretense as Leopold was still intentional at this point or whether he’d forgotten to change into the powerful Guardian he was. For sure, his comment threatened to give Hugh imminent a stroke.
“I’m not sure if you know my cousins well, Leopold, but I can promise you, when GiGi and Alastair get something in their heads, it takes a stronger person than either Baz or me to remove it.” Mackenzie shrugged and pressed her lips together, careful to avoid eye contact, or she was sure to start laughing. Any sign of humor at this point would be entirely inappropriate, but since Alastair had Hugh frozen in place, the situation seemed well in hand.
“Exactly, my dear. And I second my lovely sister’s plan. After all, if anyone should be sacrificed to bring Isolde back, I think it should be one of her disciples, don’t you?” Alastair raised a hand, and Hugh’s body levitated a foot above the floor.
Arabella charged forward, stopping short of touching Alastair. “Mr. Thorne, the danger involved in resurrecting Isolde is immense. I don’t think this is the best course of action, sir.”
“I disagree, Ms. Drake. You see, Isolde’s body is at her weakest right now. She doesn’t stand a chance against us when we are united.”
“Yes,” GiGi agreed. “We’ve had plenty of experience with enemies, Arabella. The time to strike is when they are not prepared.”
Mackenzie placed an arm around Arabella’s shoulders. “Trust them, Bella. They know what they’re doing. Alastair and GiGi are powerful all on their own. If they combine their magic and that of anyone else present, the Enchantress is toast.”
A small niggling doubt played in the back of Mackenzie’s mind, but she wasn’t positive it wasn’t put there by Isolde. “And on that note, I’m going to take myself off. You all can plan this without giving her…” She tapped her temple. “…any idea of what’s going to happen.”
“Teddie, be a darling and go with her. Perhaps the two of you can share a cup of tea while the rest of us talk.” Alastair shot Evie a meaningful look.
“Of course, Mr. Thorne. Of course.” She looped her arm through Mackenzie’s. “Come, dear. Let me tell you about the time my nephew was in short pants.”
Mackenzie laughed. “Short pants? How antiquated a word. Ouch!” She rubbed her side where Evie had pinched her.
“That’s what sassy young women get for talking back to their elders.”
“So you’re where the Thornes get their mean streak.”
“Bloody hell! It has to be here somewhere,” Sebastian muttered. “How can you see the window from downstairs and still have no ability to see the door from up here, Dethridge?”
“Maybe because your house is a damned maze,” Damian retorted on a growl.
“Every other magical thing in this place calls to the Thornes. You’re their relation, and the Aether to boot. The fucking book should call to you, for shit’s sake.”
“You know, Drake, I’m ab—”
“Gentlemen!” Spring spun around and put her hands on her hips. “If you two are going to bicker like a pair of toddlers, then I’m leaving you here.”
“I beg you pardon, Ms. Thorne.” Sebastian shared a sheepish look with his nemesis turned ally.
“You can call me Spring since you’ve married Mack and we’re family now.” She nodded to him then faced Damian. “Now, as the Aether, you have the power to reveal the room. Why are you stalling?”
Sebastian’s heart began a resounding thud in his ears. Surely he’d misheard?
“Stalling?” He glared at Damian. “What gives, Dethridge?”
A small smile tugged at Damian’s lips as he studied Spring. “You truly are as brilliant as Alastair claims, aren’t you?”
“Probably more so,” Spring said matter-of-factly, without any vanity. “Again, I ask, why are you stalling?”
“Honestly? I’m worried we are playing into my mother’s hands by finding this book.” He ran his fingers through his hair and gave a weary sigh. “I can admit it to the two of you, but I’m not sure I know how to deal with her when the time comes.”
Spring hugged Damian.
Sebastian was at a loss as to which of the two of them were more surprised, him or Damian.
“What was that for, and how do I get one of those?” Sebastian joked.
Spring’s light, musical laughter was like a blanket of joy wrapping around them. The sound brought with it happiness and a sense of well-being. How she managed to do that in such trying times was in question.
“I know about tough decisions, Damian,” she told him in a more serious vein. “I’m not sure how much either of you know about my story, but I’ve been to hell and back. My presence here today proves anything is possible if the will is strong enough.” Her eyes took on a soft light. “Knox was forced to kill his own mother to save me. He didn’t even care for her as you did your mother, and yet he lives with the guilt of what he had to do.”
“And I’d do it all again. A million times for you, sweetheart.” Knox’s voice came to them, although the man himself wasn’t visible.
Spring simply grinned in the face of Sebastian’s surprise. “I know you would, darling. Now show yourself. No sense cloaking yourself when we all know you’re here.”
With a shimmer of light, Knox appeared. He was leaning against the wall, his burly arms crossed over his chest and his loving gaze locked onto his beautiful wife. “Like Damian said. Brilliant.”
“It didn’t take a brain like mine to know you weren’t letting me out of your sight, you overbearing brute,” she teased. She sent him a laughing look. “And you didn’t even growl or threaten to rip Damian in half when I hugged him.”
“I thought about it.” Knox shoved off the wall and strode to where she stood, beaming at him. He brushed back the hair from her neck and placed a light kiss at the hollow of her throat. “Oh, how I thought about it.”
“Pfft. Now, tell Damian the story of when we were in the woods by our clearing. I think it might help him make a decision.”
“I’ve already made it, Spring. Your young man can hold onto his secrets.” Damian clapped Knox on the back. “There was never any doubt as to what I needed to do when or if my mother returns. I want my daughter to grow up and experience what you two have.” He shot a look at Sebastian. “What you and Mackenzie have. With Isolde awake, none of that is possible. She’ll destroy the magical community for revenge.”
The hallway grew disturbingly quiet after his comment. Each of them understood what they faced should they fail to stop her.
“Then let’s quit fiddle-farting around, as my aunt GiGi would say, and get to finding the passage to the secret room. I want to have time to study that book.” Spring wrapped her arm through her husband’s and smiled up at him.
Sebastian felt a pang in the region of his heart. Mackenzie looked at him with that same exact expression. He needed to be able to help her through this so they could build on their relationship as this young couple before him now had done.
He met Damian’s somber gaze, and this time, the pang was one of fear. The Aether knew something and was hesitant to say. Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to ask either. But he knew. As sure as he was standing here, Fate had a vastly different plan for Mackenzie and him than it did for Spring and Knox.
Sebastian closed his eyes and inhaled a deep, fortifying breath. “Let’s get this over with. I need to get back to Mack.” If only to tell her how much he’d come to love her in the short time he’d known her.
That was the funny thing about love. Time meant nothing. Whether it was one day or one million, he’d always feel the same. Love wasn’t measured by minutes; it was measured by the depth of emotion from that first moment, that first meeting of souls. She’d woven her way into his, and he would never be free of her. He didn’t want to be.