Chapter Eight

After a fantastic feast abundant with variety, the dinner table was magically swept away, but the reflecting pool remained, lowered to ground level and surrounded by silk covered benches. The chairs were rearranged around a bonfire, and a table of hors d’oeuvres and beverages replaced the arch. Enchanted flutes and acoustic guitars materialized near the north tree line, and soft music began drifting amidst cheerful laughing and bright conversations.

Around midnight, the lawn emptied of everyone who wasn’t staying, but the enchanted band continued to play for the coven. Serafin and Daleen remained, as did Aedan’s friend Kearny, who decided to stay after meeting Rhosewen’s cousin, Enid. The two of them hit it off immediately and were in the surrounding forest, getting to know each other.

Aedan looked at his wife, wondering how on earth he’d gotten so lucky. Then he leaned closer, smelling her hair as he whispered. “Dance with me.”

Rhosewen happily turned into him, and he wrapped one arm around her waist, carrying her into sweeping circles.

“Was it the wedding of your dreams?” he asked.

“Better,” she answered.

“Good,” he approved, picking up the pace.

He didn’t have to match the rhythm of the music; the bewitched instruments had been matching his all day, so he was free to concentrate on Rhosewen’s entrancing eyes, pink lips, and glowing skin.

“It seems impossible,” he whispered.

“What?” she asked, thinking the world was exactly as it should be.

“That you’ll be more beautiful tomorrow than you are tonight,” he explained. “But it’s not impossible, because that’s how it is everyday. Every morning, when I open my eyes to your face, you’re more beautiful than I remember. You take my breath away every time.”

Tears stung Rhosewen’s eyes as she clutched his cheeks. “I love you, Aedan. You mean everything to me.”

“Sounds like we were made for each other,” he quipped, lifting her high into the air. Then he spun once and lowered her lips to his.

They were still kissing when Kearny and Enid shot from the trees, soaring unusually close to the ground. As they approached, their feet flipped out in front of them, catching their breathless bodies, and Aedan and Rhosewen looked over, finding stark white faces.

“The Unforgivables,” Kearny warned.

Aedan’s embrace tightened as icy fingers gripped his heart. “How long?”

“Thirty seconds. Maybe.”

“Shit.”

Aedan turned toward the crowd, and Rhosewen spun with him, locked in his tense biceps. The instruments had crashed to the ground, and the lawn was silent, its occupants frozen.

“What are you waiting for?” Aedan shouted. “Go! Get the children inside. Kemble…” he mumbled, searching him out, “take Cordelia and Quinlan and hide, all three of you.”

His shouts snapped everyone out of their trances, and many of them scattered. But Morrigan, Caitrin, Serafin and Daleen flocked to their offspring, and several adult wizards formed a united front behind the golden family.

“What’s going on?” Rhosewen asked. “Why are the Unforgivables here?”

Aedan met her frightened stare, terror twisting his gut. “Medea,” was all he could say, and it killed him to say it. This was his fault. Everybody in the community, everyone he loved most, was in terrible danger because of him.

As if he’d called her name, Medea slowly stalked from the south tree line, her focus on Rhosewen. She looked wild—crazy golden eyes; matted lackluster hair. Hate and vengeance had consumed her aura, changing not only the hues, but the way it flowed—sluggish and dull, steadily draining of life. Another noticeable change, one that had everything to do with the situation at hand, was the raised, purple scar marring her bony right cheekbone. About half an inch wide and three inches long, it hideously dominated her features.

Fury boiled Aedan’s blood as fear challenged his strength. She’d actually done it. She’d sold them out to the deadly Dark Elite. “I can’t believe you did this, Medea. And for what? You’ve doomed yourself as much as you’ve doomed us.”

Medea didn’t reply. She just ran an unkempt fingernail down her ugly scar as another thirty magicians emerged from the forest. Wearing blood red flying cloaks, they stalked forward in a perfect V with Agro at its point. When he was ten feet away, he stopped, but the others formed a half circle around the bold yet frightened family.

Menacingly handsome with long brown hair, a sharp face, and glowing orange eyes, Agro cordially stretched his arms out, his gaze sliding over the tight knit group. “Fellow magicians,” he greeted, appraising the abundant golden glow. “How nice to see all of you. I’ve heard wondrous things about your coven.”

Caitrin squared his shoulders and cleared his throat, speaking as evenly as possible. “What are you doing here, Agro?”

Agro eyed him with mild interest then glanced at Morrigan. “It is a wedding, isn’t it? I’m here to give the happy couple my best wishes.”

“You weren’t invited,” Aedan cut in, muscles twitching around Rhosewen.

Agro narrowed his eyes, scanning Aedan from head to toe. “Tsk, tsk, my boy. Is that any way to treat a guest?”

“You weren’t invited,” Aedan repeated, flipping his gaze to Medea, who was moving outside the circle, her focus locked on Rhosewen.

Her lips parted and her fingers wagged.

“No!” Aedan blurted, spinning around to shield Rhosewen.

Medea paused then calmly started in the other direction.

“You must be Aedan,” Agro concluded. “And this must be Rhosewen, your golden beauty.”

Medea bared her teeth and hissed.

“Now, now,” Agro chuckled, waving a finger in the air, “let’s not be rude.” He laughed again, giving Aedan a wink. “You have a way with women, my boy. Tell me—is it natural charisma . . . or trickery?”

This time Rhosewen hissed, and Aedan stroked her hair, but he didn’t dare tighten his desperate embrace.

“No matter,” Agro went on. “Forget Medea. It’s obvious you needed no trickery to achieve this union. I must admit, I didn’t simply come to wish you well.”

“You don’t say?” Aedan countered, watching Medea stalk the outskirts of the circle. When her lips and fingers twitched, he rotated.

“I did want to wish you well,” Agro claimed, ignoring Aedan’s maneuver. “But it was my curiosity that brought me here. Of course, you must already know that.” He intently stared at the newlyweds, scanning their vast golden hazes. “In all my life I’ve never heard of another case such as yours. Two bonded children bonding themselves. The breed is so rare—an endangered species since the dawn of time. Yet here you are, defying all odds by . . . keeping it in the family.” He slowly licked his lips, ravenously, enviously. Then he calculatingly smiled and clucked his tongue, eyebrows arching over an evil grin. “Tell me—are there children in the stars?”

An instinctive growl rumbled in Aedan’s chest, rolling up his throat and vibrating his tongue, but his focus stayed on Medea, who continued to look for an opening. She found it, and he quickly closed it, wishing he knew her plan so he could better protect against it.

“Now I’ve upset you,” Agro observed. “My curiosity does tend to get the best of me. But who wouldn’t marvel at your situation?”

Caitrin stepped forward, taking advantage of Agro’s polite facade. “It’s late. If indeed you’ve accomplished what you came for, you need to leave.”

Agro tilted his head, his manners fading as indignation took hold. “Of course,” he icily replied. Then he looked to Aedan and Rhosewen, orange eyes flaming red. “The Heavens shower you with gifts. I’m sure your union will prove plentiful. Perhaps my next visit will yield better manners. It’s unwise to be rude to guests.”

A blatant threat.

Aedan looked over, meeting the stare of a murderous monster that had set its sights on his perfect Rose, his beautiful family.

As everyone watched the intense exchange, no one watched Medea.

Rhosewen’s grip on Aedan’s waist suddenly tightened. Then a shiver rippled her body from head to toe.

“Rose,” Aedan panicked, snapping his head around.

As all eyes shot to the bride, the Unforgivables took flight, quickly disappearing into the night.

Rhosewen was trembling, but seemed unharmed.

“What happened?” Aedan asked. “What did she do?”

“I don’t know,” Rhosewen replied. “It felt like someone poured ice water on my head.”

“Dad!” Aedan shouted. “Examine her.”

Serafin stepped forward, laying a hand on Aedan’s shoulder. “I’ll need you to let go of her, son.”

Aedan reluctantly released his grip and took a step back, keeping his anxious gaze on Rhosewen’s face. Serafin positioned his hands half an inch from her body then ran them up and down its length, front and back. He did this several times then stepped away, holding a palm to his chin.

“Well?” Aedan and Morrigan urged.

“If they got her with something,” Serafin mumbled, “I’m not familiar with it. I didn’t pick up anything wrong.”

“You check, Caitrin,” Aedan insisted.

Caitrin moved forward and kissed Rhosewen’s forehead. Then he repeated Serafin’s routine. “Nothing,” he concluded, slowly shaking his head.

Aedan wasn’t satisfied, so he stepped forward and began running his hands over Rhosewen, actually touching her as he searched for an energy that didn’t belong. He slipped his hands up her skirt and ran his palms down her bare legs. Then he slid her silk straps aside and gently wrapped his hands around her neck, gliding them over her upper chest, shoulders and arms. When he got to her back, he unbuttoned her dress and laid the material aside, running both hands up and down her spine. As he focused on a spot right behind her heart, he stiffened.

“Here,” he said, giving his dad access to the afflicted area.

Morrigan clutched Daleen for support as Serafin placed a palm to Rhosewen’s back. When he sadly bowed his head, Morrigan sobbed and collapsed in Daleen’s arms. Caitrin quickly checked for himself. After a moment’s concentration, he dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he took a shaky breath.

Rhosewen turned toward Aedan with big, frightened eyes. “What is it?”

“We don’t know,” he whispered, pulling her into a hug.

“But I feel fine,” she countered. “Maybe they tried and it didn’t work.”

“Maybe,” Serafin agreed, raising his head.

Aedan looked up, desperate for hope. “Do you think that’s likely?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s likely,” Serafin replied, “but it is possible. Only time will tell. I’ve never felt anything like it, and I don’t understand why she hasn’t experienced any after affects. This is either something unusually advanced and completely foreign to me, or it’s a botched spell.”

The vague answer wasn’t what Aedan wanted, so he looked to his beautiful Rose, an ever-welcome sight. “Are you sure you don’t feel any different?” he asked. “You’re not hurting anywhere? Or experiencing any odd sensations?”

“No,” she assured. “I feel fine. It didn’t hurt earlier either. It was just cold and tingly.”

Aedan scanned her aura then looked to his dad. “I’m not satisfied. I want to know why her back feels that way, whether it has an affect on her or not.”

Serafin nodded as he squeezed Aedan’s shoulder. “I can’t promise answers, but I’ll steep myself in research.”

“I’ll join you,” Caitrin offered, pulling Morrigan from Daleen. Then he laid a hand on the back of Rhosewen’s head.

Aedan looked at his wife, begging the Heavens to keep her safe from the unidentified magic. He couldn’t consider the alternative. It tormented his insides, practically cutting off his air supply. The alternative would kill him.

Over the next few days, Aedan performed nightly physical exams on Rhosewen, asking her multiple times if she felt any different, but the answer was always no, and his inspections always yielded normal results. Deciding it must have been a botched spell after all, everyone began to relax.

They remained guarded against possible visits from the Unforgivables, and assumed they were being watched from a distance, which was a huge inconvenience for Cordelia and Kemble, who hadn’t left the house with Quinlan since the wedding. But for the most part, life returned to normal. For a day or two.

Rhosewen had just finished showering for bed and stood naked in the bathroom, examining her body inside and out. She was three days late for her period, something she’d never been in her life, so she’d been performing self-exams after every shower, but so far they’d been fruitless. She’d found nothing but her own familiar body.

Eyes closed, head clear, she held her palms to her lower abdomen, focusing, feeling, searching . . . searching . . .  search . . . 

She found it. Her soul wasn’t alone. Another had joined it.

Her eyes popped open as she pulled her hands tighter against her belly. “Baby,” she breathed, looking down.

Emotion bubbled in her chest as elation fluttered from her toes up, making her feel light as air, consumed by the purest love she’d ever experienced. But the euphoria didn’t last. It shattered as pain clutched every bone in her body, buckling her knees. She grabbed the edge of the vanity, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her teeth, trying not to scream.

What was going on? She was disoriented and scared, awash with the onslaught of burning, prickling torment.

As suddenly as it hit, the pain subsided, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache. She straightened, steadied then opened her eyes, perplexed but so happy. She’d always wanted a baby. To have one with Aedan was a dream come true. Her life would be impossibly perfect now.

She took a deep breath, making sure the pain was under control. Then she walked from the bathroom, receiving an unpleasant, squeezing sensation with every step. She had no way of knowing if her aura reflected the pain.

“Aedan?”

He looked up from his book then tossed it aside, scowling as he flew from the bed and scooped her into a cradle hold. “What’s wrong?” he asked, scanning her body.

“I . . . I’m . . .”

“You’re what?” he urged. “Are you hurt?”

As Rhosewen watched his panicked expression, she decided not to tell him about the painful episode. A baby should mark a happy occasion. Complaining to Aedan about pain would overshadow the joy, and she refused to ruin this for him.

She did her best to look as happy as she felt as she touched a reassuring hand to his cheek. “I’m pregnant, Aedan.”

Emotion consumed him, spinning his head and swelling his heart. Every feeling possible bursting into bloom—love, happiness, anticipation, wonder, worry, fear, and upon finding Rhosewen’s eyes, love again.

“Rose,” he whispered, his gaze roaming to her stomach—a lovely and wondrous haven keeping their baby safe and warm as it grew into a tiny person. “A baby.”

“Our baby,” she said, laying her palms on her belly. The ache in her bones sharpened, but she forced herself to lie still.

Aedan flew to the bed and gently laid her down, placing his hands on top of hers. “Our baby,” he repeated, resting his head on his hands, but he quickly popped back up. “Is that too heavy?”

Rhosewen hurt, but not from the weight on her belly. “No, but get closer.” She moved her palms, replacing them with his cheek. Then she slid her fingers into his hair, trying to ignore the mild ache that wouldn’t go away. “How’s that?” she asked. “Better?”

“Perfect.” He kissed her belly then lay back down, pulling one of her hands to his lips so he could kiss her fingertips. “I love you, Rose. And I already love our baby.”

The pain throbbed, but not enough to stifle her joy. “Me, too,” she breathed, watching the top of his head through happy tears.

She closed her eyes, and after a long stretch of silence, the pain subsided, letting them fall asleep with each other and their baby on their minds and in their hearts.

First thing the following morning, Aedan called his parents and asked them to return to Oregon right away. They’d only been home for three days, but they agreed without hesitation.

Now that Rhosewen knew she was pregnant, other magicians would know as well, just by looking at her aura—the telltale colors of love and concern congregating around the womb, its vigilant flow of maturity and responsibility. She was baking, and her oven light was on, so she couldn’t leave the house. She didn’t mind too much and would never risk a trip outside if there were a chance the Unforgivables were watching.

Morrigan and Caitrin’s worry weighed heavily on them, but they did their best to smile around their daughter, unwilling to compound her stress. They weren’t fooling anybody. Morrigan rarely left Rhosewen’s side in the twenty-two hours it took Serafin and Daleen to arrive.

Once the family of six had gathered, they sat in Aedan and Rhosewen’s living room to discuss their options.

For Aedan, there was only one. “We have to leave,” he announced, stroking Rhosewen’s dainty knuckles.

Daleen dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, Serafin kissed his wife’s silky hair, and Morrigan buried her face in Caitrin’s bicep.

“You could be followed,” Caitrin noted. “Then you’d be alone in facing them.”

“We’ll have to take the risk,” Aedan replied. “If we stay, they’ll find out and no one in the coven will be safe, particularly our baby. Our best chance is to hide and hope they never find out Rose conceived. We’ll change our names and integrate into a non-magical community. As long as we’re together with only ourselves to worry about, we’ll have the edge against intruders. We can disappear in less than a second, get out before anyone knows we’re there. We could hide that way for a long time. Until it’s safe.”

“What do you think of all this?” Caitrin asked, looking at Rhosewen.

She slowly shook her head, jarring a few tears loose. “I don’t see any other way, Dad.”

The sadness in her aura grasped Aedan’s heart and twisted. “I’m sorry, Rose,” he whispered, brushing a thumb over her tears.

She grabbed his wrist and held tight. “Don’t be sorry,” she insisted, moving his hand to her stomach. “Not about this.”

He ran his hand under her shirt, finding soft skin. “Never about this.”

“They’re right,” Serafin cut in, briefly meeting Caitrin’s stare. “The best we can do is get them to safety without being seen. At least there’s a chance for them that way. Agro would do anything to get his hands on their baby. If they stay here, he’ll quickly discover the truth. Then there will be no hope . . .” His voice broke, and sad silence held the room, leaving everyone breathless.

By that evening, the plans were made, the farewells were said, and Aedan and Rhosewen were as prepared as they would ever be to leave their home. For how long, no one knew.

Daleen had been gone all day, hunting down a place for them to stay, and had met a nice woman living in Ketchum, Idaho. Thirty-one-year-old Katherine Moore was single and childless, a secretary by day and a loner by night. As luck—or fate—would have it, she had a fully furnished, garage apartment with activated utilities and phone service. Daleen softened her up with two years rent, telling her the truth mostly—the apartment was a gift for her son and daughter-in-law who were expecting a baby. She gave Katherine their new names, Chris and Sarah Callaway, and told her they’d be arriving late that night, insisting she not wait up for them.

Daleen had worked out the where while Aedan, Serafin and Caitrin had worked out the how. Morrigan was a mess, unable to tear her attention away from Rhosewen for more than a few seconds at a time, so she didn’t take part in the planning.

The six of them would leave together after sun down, lowering their bodies’ visibility with the same spell they used when they flew during the day. Hiding their auras and bonded lights, however, was something none of them were accustomed to, so Aedan and Rhosewen practiced throughout the day, finding it fairly easy to do. Combined, the concealment spells would provide excellent cover, but an alert magician standing in the right place at the right time could easily spot a shimmer of evidence, so several coven members patrolled the surrounding lands and skies, making sure the Unforgivables weren’t close enough to witness the family’s departure.

Inside their house, Rhosewen and Aedan said sad goodbyes to their parents. The six of them wouldn’t be landing together. In fact, each couple would be landing in a different time zone.

The witches cried, and the wizards flexed, eyes shiny and red.

“Keep in touch,” Serafin insisted, grasping Aedan’s shoulders. “We’ll make sure no one hears our side of the conversation.”

“We will,” Aedan whispered, his throat too tight to do more.

As nightfall approached, someone knocked on the door, and Aedan sluggishly moved to open it, wishing the task would distract him longer than a few seconds. “Kemble,” he greeted, scanning his aura.

“Everything’s clear,” Kemble reported. “We haven’t seen a soul.”

“Thanks,” Aedan mumbled, starting to turn away. Then he paused and looked back. “Will you leave as well?”

Kemble shrugged as he glanced at his house. “We haven’t decided.”

“You should,” Aedan insisted. “If Agro drops in looking for us and sees your lights…” He swallowed and shook his head. “Just go, get away for a while. Maybe stay with Cordelia’s parents.”

Kemble thoughtfully nodded. “Cordelia and I have discussed our options. If we decide to go, we have places to stay.” He glanced at Rhosewen’s tear-streaked face then met Aedan’s sorrowful stare. “I’m sorry, Aedan,” he said, clasping his hand. “I have a pretty good idea what you’re going through, and I hate that such hard times have fallen on you. Be safe, be strong, and come back to us sooner rather than later.”

“We’ll do our best,” Aedan agreed. “Take care of Cordelia and Quinlan.”

Kemble nodded and stepped away. “Goodbye, Aedan.”

“Until next time, Kemble.”

“Until next time,” Kemble repeated. Then he shot toward his post.

“Everyone knows the plan,” Caitrin hoarsely announced. “Call when you safely arrive.”

Aedan and Serafin nodded, but the women continued to cry, and Rhosewen was gasping for air.

Aedan took her face and leaned close, touching his nose to hers. “Breathe,” he whispered.

She nodded, keeping her gaze glued to his as they inhaled and exhaled together, and her eyes eventually dried as her shaking quieted.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she squeaked.

He watched her for another moment then turned to his parents, concealing their bodies and lights while Rhosewen did the same for Morrigan and Caitrin. After Aedan and Rhosewen performed their spells on each other, only hazy shimmers occasionally caught the light, revealing the location of the six magicians.

Each couple clutched hands. Then they stepped into the warm, night air, shooting into the sky as one. They flew east for thirty minutes then south for two hours. When they turned east again, Caitrin and Morrigan slowed, their silhouettes appearing over the bright moon then dropping out of sight. The two of them planned to retrace their path to the community, keeping their senses alert to signs they’d been followed.

The others flew east for another hour and a half. Then Serafin and Daleen appeared out of nowhere, but they didn’t slow down or turn around. They merely held each other close as they continue east. Aedan and Rhosewen were no longer with them. They’d turned north.

An hour later, with Rhosewen wrapped in a hug, Aedan landed in the quiet backyard of a two-story, country home. He scanned his surroundings as he climbed the stairs outside an old garage. Then he used the key Daleen had given him, opening the door to a small, one-room apartment.

After checking the bathroom and closet, they released their concealment spells and appeared in each other’s arms, but they didn’t speak. They just held tight, catching each other’s hot tears and labored breaths.

Once the tears ran dry, Aedan called Caitrin. Then he and Rhosewen crawled into their strange bed, drained by their long and emotional day.