Chloe’s appearance was bedraggled and filthy, enraging Keaton and making him see red. Not as prone to forgiveness as his wife, he glared at Rachel before stepping into the shed and hauling Chloe up into his arms.
Like her clone had before, she sobbed, but hers wasn’t an act. He cursed himself for being taken in by Rachel earlier. He now understood Goth Spring’s response in sending Chloe away. If Rachel always gave such Oscar-worthy performances, it would be difficult to believe her. Ever.
Spouting assurances that she was safe, he rocked Chloe in his arms and fought a battle against his own sobs. Her heartbreak was his. Autumn joined him, wrapping her arms around them and tucking her head against Chloe’s back.
“I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner, Chloe,” she said achingly. “So sorry. But we’re here now.”
Lifting her head, Chloe nodded. “I knew you’d come, Mama. I knew.”
“And I always will.”
“I know that, too,” their daughter said with a watery smile. Just as quickly, she sobered again and asked, “Did you find Jolly?”
“We did. He’s with my parents and Uncle Alastair.”
Relief caused Chloe’s shoulders to drop, and she asked to be put down after she gave Keaton one more hard squeeze. “Will you take me to him? I want to see him.”
“Yes, midge. We’ll go there now.” Taking her hand, he locked gazes with Autumn. “Where did you leave Jolly?”
“By the old oak with Winnie’s and Zane’s initials.”
“But—”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “Yeah, I know there’s no mark on the trunk itself, but it’s in the same location.”
“Gotcha.” He bussed her forehead and gave her a significant look. He understood without words that she intended to find the other Autumn and read her the riot act for her negligence of Rachel. “You going to be okay here?”
“I will. I can’t say it won’t come to blows when I see my clone, though,” she said with a grin. “That bitch deserves whatever she has coming.”
“That’s my vicious darling! Take no prisoners, babe.” He returned her grin with one of his own. “I’ll be back as soon as I deliver Chloe to Knox and your family.”
“See you—”
The sunlit sky around them darkened to night, lightened, then darkened again.
“What the—” Redneck Keaton’s exclamation was aborted as the world around them continually flickered from day to night.
“What is happening right now?” Autumn muttered.
Static electricity hung heavily in the air and sounded like the popular rice cereal with its snap, crackle, and pop once milk was added to the bowl.
“It’s the Goddess trying to break through,” Gothica Spring told them. “Periodically, she tries, but she’s been cut off for years.”
“You can’t summon the Goddess?” Keaton asked incredulously. “Like, ever?”
She shook her head in response. “I’ve never seen it this intense before. She must really want to come through.”
Lightning struck an outcrop of rocks about nine yards from where they stood, causing Chloe and Rachel to scream. Keaton’s nerves were fried in the process, making him jumpy and eager to avoid another display of supernatural power. He drew his daughter and Rachel closer to him and shot the Thorne women a worried glance.
“I’m not a fan of the fireworks, and neither are the girls.”
“I say we give the Goddess help,” Autumn replied with a thoughtful look at the blackened boulders. “Gothica? Any ideas on how we can manage it?”
“Not really.”
“My wife’ll know,” Redneck Keaton said softly, his eyes still locked on the strike zone. “Her family’s the one who sealed off the deities’ abilities to come here.”
“What?” Unsure if he’d heard correctly or was in a bizzaro dream, Keaton shook his head. “Seriously, man. I think you need to repeat what you said. If it’s what I think it is, we’re going to need an explanation.”
The other guy focused his attention on Spring. “You were the reason, girl. When you called on the dark arts, the gods wanted to strip you of your magic. Autumn was adamant that wasn’t going to happen.”
“You’re blaming this on me?” Gothica’s expression was pure outrage. “I didn’t ask her to do that. I didn’t even know she did.”
“Thornes protect their own. That, you should know, or you would if you’d ever hung around.”
The guy didn’t sound happy about the fact, and Keaton shared a look with his wife. In her golden-amber eyes, he could see she didn’t love this conversation, either.
Pasting on a determined expression, she approached Keaton’s unkempt clone. “RK—”
“Stop calling me RK, woman! My name’s Keaton.”
“RK is fitting. Redneck Keaton,” Gothica stressed not so helpfully.
Other than a red face and a slight downturn of his mouth, RK didn’t react. Seemed the man had a healthy respect for the Thornes and what they could do.
“I’m sorry, Keaton,” Autumn said softly to RK. “In my mind, it’s the best way to tell you apart. Also, I suggest you get rid of the wife-beater shirts if you want to be taken seriously.”
He surprised them when he laughed. “At least I wasn’t dubbed PK.”
Keaton knew he was a fool for asking. “PK?”
“Puss”—the man glanced at the girls as if registering their presence for the first time—“Uh, Prissy Keaton.”
“This Priss just kicked your ass, so I’d be careful,” Keaton warned in a growly voice.
“You got lucky. I’m sober now.”
“Not hardly.”
“Enough,” Autumn snapped. “Tell us where to find the reversal spell your wife used. We need to set this place to rights.”