Preston popped into the narrow alley behind Delphine’s shop. Checking both ways, he removed a lock-pick set from his pocket. Satisfied nothing occupied the space but a pair of battered trashcans and a stray cat looking for its next meal, he went to work on the weathered backdoor. If he knew his cousin, she would have a spell in place to prevent him from magically opening the lock. Most witches and warlocks were so used to resorting to magic, they failed to make adjustments to their spells for non-magical means of entry.
The pins shifted and the mechanism clicked. He swung the door wide and grinned. It had been many years since he’d had to gain entry to a building this way, but it was still fun and spoke to the mischievous half of him.
A sound came from his left, and he flicked his fingers to spark a flame and light the darkness. Delphine, dressed in a flowing black robe, stepped from the shadows.
“Preston! Why didn’t you come in through the front door, cousin? Why the cloak-and-dagger routine?”
He tossed her the bundle of herbs.
“Ah.” She stared at the wadded-up cloth in her hand. “How did you know?”
“It was a smell I recognized. You aren’t going to deny you tried to poison, Rorie?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Why, Delphine?”
“The reason you even have to ask is why,” she snapped. “Those of us on the outskirts of this family are sick and tired of the messes the mighty Thornes make. Beecham threatened my daughter, Preston. My daughter!”
“Why didn’t you come to me or Alastair? We would protect her.”
“Because it’s too late. Beecham has Léonie hidden away. I can’t find her, no matter what magic I use.”
“Where would he get a spell strong enough to cloak the truth from you?” He was puzzled. Delphine possessed the magic of the Thornes in addition to that of the Foucher line. Her voodoo roots ran deep.
“From me. Many years ago.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He needed a way to cover up Trina’s death. I gave it to him.”
Preston reeled from the news of her involvement. His brain scrambled to keep up. “Why?”
“I didn’t initially know what he needed it for. I thought it was to hide the activities of the Witches’ Council. It was years later when I discovered the truth.”
“Why didn’t you come to us then?”
“Alastair was in a bad state over Aurora. He wasn’t fit to talk to because he would have torn down the magical world around us. You were nowhere to be found. What was I to do, Preston?” She waved a hand and sneered in his direction. “It’s always so simple for you. You always fall on the proper side of right and wrong. But would you be so quick to do the proper thing if it was one of your children’s lives at stake?”
“If that is a threat toward my children, we are going to have a problem, Delphine.”
“We have a problem anyway, cousin.”
A chill chased along his spine.
“How so?”
“I can’t let you run to your brother and tell him I tried to kill Aurora. He’ll destroy everything.”
“And how do you think to stop me?”
She smiled, and that smile was full of evil intent. He braced himself for whatever magic she intended to throw his way. It was the bullet through his back he hadn’t counted on.
As her dead cousin’s eyes stared at her accusingly, Delphine shuddered. “Dump his body in the woods of Leiper’s Fork, Tennessee. He’ll be found soon enough. His daughter’s husband-to-be is the sheriff of that small town.” She laid a hand on her lover’s arm. “Take this, Henri.” She handed him a bag of supplies containing a bottle of All Saints oil, a black candle, herbs, and a scroll. “Be sure to pour the oil on him. It will see him safely to the Otherworld where his people go after death. Sprinkle the herbs around his body and set them alight with the candle. As they burn, you speak the spell three times. Don’t rush it or it won’t work. And for the love of all that is unholy, don’t leave a clue that you were there.”
“Understood.”
“Before you burn his body, take a picture and send it to Harold. Tell him I want my daughter returned tonight.”
“It shall be done, my queen.” Henri lifted Preston’s lifeless form in his oversized arms.
She marveled at how powerful her cousin still looked even in death. It was as if, any second, he would wake and burn her home down around her. But he wouldn’t. A poison bullet to the heart would stop even the fiercest warriors.
Twenty minutes later, the last of Preston’s blood was removed from the old wood floors. However, she couldn’t seem to remove the vision of that bloodstain from her mind. She crossed a line tonight that would never allow her to go back. It wasn’t just with the Thornes, but between good and evil. A particular road she’d never intended to traverse—it led to nowhere good.
The saddest part was that she had admired Preston. Never once had he treated her with anything less than respect. No, Alastair was the problem, and Preston’s loyalty to his brother never wavered. When Preston’s wife ran off with his brother, he took it in stride. Sure, he’d been angry, and while Alastair was on the outs with his siblings, the truth was that had he been threatened, they’d all have his back.
For this reason, she knew true fear. If Alastair and GiGi found out that Delphine had their brother killed, they would wipe her from existence—along with her small family.
“Grand-mère?”
Delphine turned to her six-year-old grandson and smiled. “What is it, mon cher?”
“I heard a loud bang.”
She frowned. Henri had used a silencer on his gun. There had been no sound other than Preston dropping to the floor. The noise was a soft thud at best.
“You were dreaming.” She waved a hand around the parlor that doubled as her fortune telling business. “As you can see, nothing is wrong.”
“Who is that man?”
Startled, she spun around, her eyes darting about. “Where, Armand? Where do you see a man, mon cher?”
“Right there, Grand-mère.” He pointed to the floor where Preston had been. “He doesn’t look happy.”
“Go right to bed. He will be gone in the morning, and all will be well.”
Alastair roused with a shout. His heart ached as if he were having a heart attack. Clutching his chest, he rocked back and forth, trying desperately to catch his breath.
“Alastair? What is it?” Aurora cried as she struggled to escape sleep.
“I… can’t…” He sucked in a breath and tried again. “I—something is wrong, Rorie. My chest.”
“Warlocks don’t have heart attacks!”
“It’s… possible… I’m the… exception.”
As suddenly as it started, the pain was gone. He gulped in air and hung his arms over his bent knees, head lowered, as he tried to calm his racing heart.
Aurora rubbed his lower back in small circles.
“That’s uncomfortable on my scars,” he said gruffly.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“Your attempt at support is appreciated.”
Jumping up, he donned a robe and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Aurora scrambled out of bed and reached for her wrap.
“I need to know what caused that attack.”
“You’re worried Delphine’s prediction came sooner than expected?”
“Yes.”
“What can I do?”
“Come with me to the study, if you wish, but I need to scry to check up on the family.”
“Do you have a second scrying mirror? I can search one while you search the other.”
“You can make a phone call to Preston to make sure he’s okay while I check on Nash.”
She ran back into the room and grabbed her phone from her purse. With the press of two buttons, she called Preston.
She was sent straight to voicemail, so she tried again. “He’s not answering.”
“Call GiGi.”
She did as he requested.
“Hello?”
“GiGi, have you heard from your brother tonight?”
“Alastair? I thought he was with you?”
“No, Preston. Alastair seemed to have some sort of attack tonight. Like a—” The line went dead in her hand, and she stared at the phone in consternation. “We were disconnected.”
“More than likely, she hung up. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and teleported to the study. A quick scan of his mirror showed Nash reading in his office.
“My son seems to be okay, but I can’t find my brother.”
Within minutes, GiGi had teleported to his home. She was as haggard as Alastair had ever seen her.
“Preston’s not at the Thorne estate,” she said. “I woke Winnie, but she said he never came home for dinner. He sent her a text stating that he was looking into a piece for his antique shop.”
Alastair’s suspicion that Preston was in trouble grew exponentially. “Did he give her the name of the person who owned the piece he wanted?”
“No.”
The terror in his sister’s voice urged him to hug her tightly. “We’ll find him. Stay with Aurora and lock yourself in this study. Let no one in until I return. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He kissed Aurora’s forehead. “Stay with GiGi no matter what.”
“I will. But where are you going?”
“To wake Coop. If my suspicions are correct, we are going to need to find my brother the old-fashioned human way.”
“Black magic used to block your ability to scry?” Aurora asked.
He gave a sharp nod. “Please, stay put.”
His cells scarcely had time to warm before he was standing outside Summer and Coop’s residence. He banged on the door, waking all within.
Coop opened the door, hair tossed and confusion lighting his gray-blue eyes. “Alastair?”
Alastair shoved him aside and walked into the foyer. It must have been his police training, but Coop made a check of the porch and shut the door.
“My brother is missing. What do we need to do to find him the non-magical way?”
“How long has he been missing?”
“A few hours.”
“That’s not enough time to determine—”
“He’s missing!” The force of his anger swept the room and charged the air. Coop wrapped his arms around his bare chest and shivered.
“Okay. Okay. Just calm down a second. If we are doing this through proper channels, I need some information, all right?”
“I don’t have time for this, Cooper. My brother is missing, and I feel something is wrong. Here.” He pressed a fist to his heart.
When a hand touched his arm, he spun around, ready to strike. Summer stared up at him in surprise and more than a little fear.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was harsh and his throat scratchy with his own terror. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Father. Tell us what you know.”
“Not much. I was asleep and woke to pain in my chest. I feel a chill I can’t shake.”
“How do you know it’s Preston and not a fucking heart attack?” Coop asked as he reached for Alastair’s arm to check his pulse.
Alastair brushed him off and snapped, “Witches and warlocks don’t have heart attacks, boy.”
Coop looked at Summer, who nodded. “It’s true.” She turned worried eyes to him. “How do you know it’s my dad?”
It still hurt every time she called Preston her dad, but Alastair shoved aside the pain. That hurt was minor in comparison to the fact that his brother could be at the mercy of another right now.
“He’s the only one I can’t locate with the scrying mirror or by phone.”
“Okay. Call Uncle Ryker, and tell him to meet us at your place. I’ll have everyone else meet us, too. Coop can do whatever sheriffy thing he needs to do to have his officers on the lookout.”
“Sheriffy thing?” Coop shook his head. “Okay, I’ll teleport to Mom and Dad’s. I’ll wake Keaton and tell him what is going on. You call Spring.” He turned to Alastair. “I suppose we should wait to hear anything before we bother Winnie and Autumn in their condition?”
“Are you crazy?” Summer practically yelled. “That’s their dad, and the more magic we can use to find him, the better.”
“Okay. Then, I’ll have Keaton and Autumn join everyone at Alastair’s before I head to the station.”
When her fiancé was gone, she turned to Alastair. “We’re going to find him.”
He wished he had her surety, but he didn’t. However, he couldn’t find it within himself to argue.
“Thank you, child. Call Winnie and her young man. I’ll pull Quentin into the search.”