The next morning was an exercise in patience. Something Ryker knew GiGi found difficult. She fiddled where she was normally casual or serene, and she seemed a little irritable and snappish to the others at the breakfast table.
As she lifted her knife only to put it back down for the third time, Ryker captured her hand and kissed her palm. “You’d think after last night, you’d be nicer to everyone around you,” he teased.
She looked startled, but her standard humor returned in a flash. “True.” She did a quick scan of the table and returned her attention to him. “They are all going to believe you are leaving me dissatisfied with your lovemaking.”
“Hardly that.” He nipped her fingertips and grinned when she laughed. Picking up his own silverware, he divided and buttered the blueberry muffin on his plate then handed half to her. “You still have that satisfied glow.”
A light blush tinged her cheeks, and the loving smile she now sported was certain to match his. She nibbled her half-muffin then set it down.
“I can’t get rid of this feeling of impending doom,” she confessed.
All the Thornes were intuitive to a large degree. GiGi fell only a step below Alastair in her ability to pick up on the vibrations around her. The siblings were naturally skilled like no one Ryker had ever encountered before. Added to that was keen intelligence. He’d learned a long time ago to trust their instincts.
“So what do you want to do?” he asked in a low voice.
She seemed surprised he’d posed the question to her. Shaking her head, she squeezed his fingers. “I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll feel better when Baz returns with Trina’s clothing, along with the assurance he’s gathered the Council.”
“I know. It goes against my nature not to act, especially on my own behalf.” He gave her hand a return squeeze then drew back to dig into his meal. “But we need to bide our time and try not to irritate everyone around us in the process.” He winked in the face of her scowl. “If it helps, I’ll let you do that thing you did last night again right after breakfast.”
She snorted her laughter, drawing the attention of their dining companions. A quick glance showed everyone smiling indulgently and perhaps on Alastair’s part, a little smugly. Ryker met his best friend’s direct gaze and silently conveyed his thanks. Al nodded in return. There was no need for words between the two men. They’d been friends many years and, for the most part, were able to read each other with a simple look.
“I intend to drop in this morning and check on Autumn,” GiGi announced. “Al, do you want to go with me to visit Rorie?”
“Absolutely.”
She faced Ryker. “Stay out of trouble until I return?”
“You’re cracked in the head if you believe I’m letting you out of my sight until Beecham is six feet under, sweetheart.”
“It’s only to see family, Ryker. I have no intention of knocking on Harold’s door.”
“Right,” he snort-laughed. When she stared him down, he shook his head and sighed. “It goes against my better nature to let you run around brewing up trouble, sweetheart.”
“Don’t be overbearing, babe. It doesn’t suit you.” She leaned down and placed her lips on his. “I have phone calls to make.”
Although he was curious, he refrained from asking about her plans. She’d tell him when she was good and ready and not a second before.
After she left the room, Ryker addressed Alastair. “She won’t handle it well if we can’t convince the WC of my innocence.”
“None of us will. If I know my sister, her ‘phone call’ will be to buy an island in the Pacific as a backup plan.”
“If the worst should happen, don’t let her do anything foolish or impulsive, Al. Please.”
“I can’t promise that, my friend. We are both likely to act in conjunction. If you are found guilty, it will be both GiGi’s and my first priority to remove you from harm. Anything less is an unacceptable outcome.”
Ryker sighed his frustration with the siblings and turned his attention to a watchful Nash. “What about you?”
“This might shock a few of you, but I’m in one-hundred percent agreement with the sperm donor. We will do what is necessary to save you.”
Fear and irritation at their stubbornness manifested into a sharp anger. “You are a damned stubborn lot, you know that? Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. That should be on the Thorne family crest.”
Nash’s jade green eyes lit with laughter although his expression remained impassive. “I’ll have new banners made up.”
“You remind me of your mom at times, Nash. I miss her. But I’d also be doing her a disservice if I let you cross the Council for my benefit.” Nostalgia and regret bubbled up. “She’d want you safe.”
“She’d want me to be a free thinker and to stand by my family. I’ve read her journals. Loyalty was important to her.”
Alastair’s head whipped around to stare at Nash. “Journals?”
“Of course! Let me see what I can find.”
Within seconds, Nash had vanished.
“Do you all share one collective brain wave?” Arabella asked curiously from her seat midway down the table. “I swear, since I’ve been observing you all, it’s as if you interact without needing to say a word.”
“You have no idea. They’re all a trial,” Mackenzie stated from beside her, as she casually scooped out a bit of her soft-boiled egg. The twinkle in her eye belied the put-out quality in her tone.
In a spontaneous, astonishing move, Alastair tossed a balled-up napkin at the oh-so-prim Mackenzie, hitting her in the center of her forehead. She sputtered out her egg and turned incredulous blue eyes on the patriarch of the Thorne clan.
With a simple snap of her fingers, she flung egg in his direction. Already anticipating her response, he teleported, appearing directly behind her. He leaned in to kiss the crown of her head. “You’ll have to be faster than that, child. I was the initial instigator of family food fights.”
His deep laughter echoed about the dining hall even after he left.
“That’s a side of Alastair Thorne you never see,” Arabella said in awe.
“You’re family now, dearest.” Mackenzie patted her hand. “You’ll see more of his playful side going forward.”
“The whole lot of you are uncivilized, aren’t you?”
Ryker laughed and pushed away from the table. “You have no idea.”
GiGi made the rounds through the family. She explained what Ryker intended to do with the blood magic and how he hoped to be able to clear his name. She also explained her contingency plan. If things went wrong, she had every intention of getting Ryker out of the country and off the Witches’ Council’s radar. If it meant fleeing, her contact with family would be curtailed to emergencies only. The risk to those she loved would be too great if she and Ryker became outcasts in the magical community.
The last call she made was to her coven. She was the only Thorne who still subscribed to quarterly gatherings with other witches. Mostly, the practice of rituals had fallen out over the last twenty years or so. At three p.m., her group of friends met at a pub they frequented, roughly twenty miles from the Fairy Pools on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. All but one showed up.
“Where’s Tildie?” she asked no one in particular.
“She’ll na’ be coming, GiGi.” Bridget O’Malley said with her lilting accent. She was beautiful in her own right and came from hearty Irish stock. Quick with a quip or a laugh, she always spoke in a matter-of-fact manner. Of all the coven, she was the only witch without any true power of her own. It wasn’t to say she didn’t possess magic, but due to a family curse, she couldn’t tap into that magic. GiGi was determined to help her break the spell one day soon.
“I’m sorry, but her da’s on the Council, and she’ll na’ go against his wishes. Thornes are to be avoided,” Bridget went on to say, clearly irritated with Tildie’s defection.
“I see.” Disappointment rode her hard. Tildie was a skilled witch, and until this moment, GiGi had considered her one of her closest friends. But times change and allegiances faltered. “How many of you feel this way?”
Jill Burns offered her a hard hug. “We’re here, aren’t we?” Jill was a compact dynamo with bright red hair and an engaging grin. They’d been friends since childhood. “You can’t get rid of us that easily.”
Bittersweet emotions wrapped up in a thick blanket of worry nearly suffocated GiGi. “I don’t want to put you in harm’s way. You all mean too much to me.”
Becca Calhoun placed a hand on her arm. A sweet Southern Belle of a woman, Becca had the ability to soothe. Calm replaced GiGi’s anxiety from moments before. Such was the power of Becca’s gift.
“We are with you one-hundred percent, hon. We know how to take care of ourselves.”
“Thank you.” GiGi looked into the serene, moss-green gaze and smiled. “You are all true friends.”
“What are ye needing from us, GiGi?” Bridget asked.
With a simple wave of her hand and a two-line phrase, GiGi muffled their conversation, making their actual words indistinguishable to anyone who might overhear them. Facing her three steadfast friends, she smiled. “Are you up for a little intrigue and mischief?”
A wicked gleam entered Bridget’s bright green eyes. “Aye. I thought ye’d never get around to askin’.”
“You are an adventurer at heart, Bridg.”
The feisty woman’s husky laughter turned male heads. “Stop stalling. What will ye have of us?”
“Sebastian Drake is rounding up the Council for an emergency meeting. He’s doing it under the pretext of worry.”
“For what the Thornes will do to protect one of their own?” Bridget surmised.
“Yes. I’m sure by now, you all know my husband is suspected of killing Georgie Sipanil.” She met each woman’s gaze squarely. “I’m telling you the Goddess’s honest truth; he was with me that night.” She went on to explain the details of the attack on their home by Beecham the following afternoon. “So you see, Ryker has an airtight alibi. Any video footage of him entering Georgie’s home is doctored.”
Becca leaned in to ask, “You want each of us to appeal to the council on your behalf? A divide and conquer?”
GiGi laughed. “Oh, no. I want you to fuel the fire.”
“I don’t understand.”
Bridget, however, did. “You want us to assist Sebastian Drake. Make our complaints about the Thornes known.”
“Yes. Buy us time to gather them in one place.” GiGi explained about the gas Mackenzie was creating and how they would need time for it to take effect. If her three friends could rally witches to appear as an angry mob, then the community at large would be transported to the Otherworld to witness Trina’s testimony. “The Council will be forced to turn on Beecham.” She then explained Harold’s desire to start another witch war.
Her three friends each sat straighter. “Count us in,” Jill said grimly. “That rat bastard isn’t getting away with his vicious scheming. The first war cost too many too much.”
“Be prepared by tomorrow morning. I may also need you to help me break the wards protecting the Council chamber.”
GiGi felt their intrigued looks were a good sign.
The long wait was driving Leonie mad. Matt hadn’t said anything more to her other than to assure her Armand was receiving the best possible care.
Once again, he angled his body to block the camera and gestured to the tray. Under her dinner plate, she found a note explaining he’d come for her at precisely ten minutes after midnight. She was to dress for bed and shut out all the lights by ten, as if she were following her standard routine.
Matt would bring the guy manning the security cameras a drug-laced coffee and engage him in conversation. Minus the drug, it was their regular nightly habit. After the guard passed out, Matt would come for her.
She slipped him the paper to destroy and finished her meal. Hope blossomed in her chest. Soon, if the Goddess was kind, Leonie would see her son again.
The antique Gebruder wall clock struck midnight.
“It’s time to go,” Nash told Alastair and Ryker where they hovered in front of a large computer monitor, watching the live video footage from the team they’d sent to secure the warehouse. “Matt will have Leonie there within the next ten minutes.”
“Our entire team is in place. We’ll observe from here until we are sure everything is going to plan,” Alastair informed his son. “When they arrive, we’ll teleport, and not a moment before.”
“You think this is a setup?” Ryker asked.
“No, but neither do I believe that it isn’t.” Alastair straightened his tie and readjusted his cuff links. A sure sign he wasn’t as calm as he appeared. “Trusting that girl’s mother proved fatal to my brother. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Ryker understood his caution. Alastair’s belief that Delphine was loyal to the Thorne’s might have cost Aurora her life had his brother not recognized the smell of the poisoned tea Delphine had gifted her. No, Al was wise to urge caution. Preston’s death had cast a dark pall over the Thorne family.
The minutes ticked by with nothing but the sound of the soldiers’ even breathing coming through their body cameras. Finally, at eleven minutes after midnight, the cameras flickered, indicating an electrical disturbance. When the picture came back into focus, Leonie Foucher stood in the center of the warehouse, with a large blond male beside her. Her eyes flittered wildly about, as if she was tallying enemies and allies. Giving her companion’s arm one last squeeze, she released him and stepped forward to call out, “Alastair? Are you here?”
Thirty seconds elapsed. Alastair gave a short nod and disappeared, only to reappear on screen. Ryker and Nash were both hot on his heels.
“Hello, child.”
Tears filled Leonie’s golden eyes. “Thank you for coming for me.”
“You can thank your friend. But for now, we will need to separate the two of you.”
The large man stepped forward to encircle her waist. “Why?” he barked out the question.
Ryker placed himself between Alastair and the man they all assumed was Matt Turner. “Precautions. You will both be scanned for tracking devices, but not here and not now.” He gestured to the soldiers around them, and the men closed ranks around the couple. “We need to get out of here ASAP in case Beecham has you magically marked.”
“Christ, I didn’t know that was possible.” Matt’s face paled. “How can he do that?”
“He’s into the black arts, boy, and he’d dare anything,” Alastair stated grimly. “Let’s move. Leonie, come with me now, child.”
She cast one last, longing look in Matt’s direction and moved to take Alastair’s hand. “Thank you, Matt. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”
His face softened enough to smile. “Take care of yourself, Leonie. Hug that boy of yours tight.”
“Let’s go,” Ryker said. He gripped Matt’s arm and teleported to a second warehouse, just one block closer to the river than the first building, and waited for the others to join him.
Confusion was written all over Matt’s countenance when he glanced out the floor to ceiling windows of the top floor. “We didn’t go far.”
“No. The water can be a conductor, but it can also mute a magical signal,” Ryker explained. “If Beecham intends to use a supernatural means to find you, he will only be able to get a general locale. Our hope is that he winds up at the first warehouse. We’re close enough to stage a counterattack.”
“Why are you trusting me with this information?” Matt asked curiously.
Ryker slapped him on the back and laughed. “You passed the initial Alastair Thorne test.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
Nash chuckled and stepped closer. “My father, like me, is an empath. He can feel intent. You have none that either of us can detect. Your concern for Leonie was evident, and although there was a hint of unease when you saw our team, you express no evilness that we can sense.”
“Yeah, just a basic half-breed witch here, man. Mom was a non-magical. Dad had powers but essentially lived a basic existence. Pretty much what you see is what you get.” Matt scrubbed his face with his hands. “What’s next? A debrief? I can’t tell you much about Harold Beecham’s organization, but I can tell you some.”
Ryker gestured to a table and chair in the corner of the warehouse office. “Have a seat.”
Matt complied and faced the camera sitting on the tripod.
“A team member will scan you while you tell us what you know,” Nash told him.
“Will Leonie be okay? She seemed worried about how your family would treat her because of her mother.”
Nash and Ryker exchanged a long look. They both knew her life was worthless if Alastair caught wind of any deception. Nash sat across from Matt to tell him this. Although Beecham’s ex-guard paled under his tan, he nodded his understanding.
“I don’t think she has any hidden agendas. Not that I could tell. She was just scared and lonely. Concerned for Armand, ya know?”
“Does she know my wife shot her mother?” Ryker asked, studying him carefully.
“She knows a Thorne is responsible, either in actual deed or to have someone take action against Delphine. I don’t think she blames any of you.” Matt scratched the stubble along his jaw. “It’s not like either of us could have long conversations. She was always watched. I suspect I was, too.”
“Fair enough.” Ryker crossed to the door. “Tell Nash everything you know that may be relevant to us. Start at the beginning. If you can think of anything criminal you’ve witnessed, we could use that to sway the Witches’ Council.”
When the guard standing behind Matt nodded the all clear, Ryker left Matt and Nash alone to talk.