Alastair sorted through the papers in the study at Rēafere’s Fortress, searching for anything resembling the note he’d seen in the vision. Nothing. Wanting to swear up a plague of locusts, he nevertheless refrained.
“Well, Nathanial, you could certainly stand to help a descendant out, old boy,” he said aloud.
As soon as the words left his mouth, a light appeared on the far side of the study and floated around a small antique chest on the top shelf of the ornate thirteen-feet-tall bookcases.
“If that’s a sign, I’ll take it with a hearty thank you from me to you.”
Alastair crossed to the shelves and, with a flick of his wrist, brought the library ladder sweeping to his side of the room. Once he reached the top shelf, he scooped up the small chest and climbed down. It was only when he’d set it on the four-foot, circular table in the center of the study, that he realized he didn’t have a way to open the lock, because in all of his searching, he hadn’t seen a key. Of course, Nathanial wouldn’t make it easy to delve into his belongings. Alastair’s brother, Preston, would’ve tried his lock-picking skills at this point.
Looking skyward, he called out half-jokingly, “Isis, I don’t suppose you want to send my brother to me for this one, hmm?” He hadn’t expected an answer, but in the span of an eyeblink, Preston was standing before him.
“You rang?” Preston’s droll tone was music to Alastair’s old ears, and he found himself choking on a mix of happiness laced with sadness.
“Brother,” he said gruffly. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, Al.”
They embraced for a long minute, neither wanting to lose the contact.
Finally, Preston patted him on the back. “Well, this is getting awkward.”
He startled a laugh from Alastair, who released him with a hard squeeze. “Of course. My apologies for crying on your pretty gray suit.” With a gesture to the small, jewel-encrusted chest, he asked, “Any idea how to open this thing? I think it contains a spell I need.”
“Think? You don’t know?”
He grimaced. “Our great-grandfather liked his secrets.”
After lifting the box, Preston turned it this way and that, looking for what Alastair assumed was a false bottom. His brother’s dark auburn brows collided as he studied it.
Alastair found himself grinning. Preston was always in his element when he discovered something old with a bit of mystery attached. “Why did she send you?”
“She seems to be over her pique regarding the Book of Thoth spell to raise Rorie.” Preston shot him a mocking smile. “Or maybe she felt sorry for you fumbling around without the brains of the family to help you.”
A bark of laughter escaped him. Damn, it really was great to have his brother here, if only for a brief time. “I’ll have to thank her profusely for your services when next I see her.”
“She’d like that.” He set the box down. “There’s no key for this lock.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve been all through this place.”
“No. I mean, there is literally no key that exists to open it. See the runes here?” Preston pointed to the small marks encircling the lock. “These hold the directions to open it.”
Alastair lifted the box to study the marks. “They’re different than anything I’ve seen before. I don’t know how to read them.”
“Damian’s daughter will know.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’d almost forgotten the urgency as I basked in how good it felt to see you again, little brother. I should get going.”
“It’s all right, Al. This won’t be the last time. Do what you must to bring the Aether out of stasis. Isis is on your side.”
“Thanks, Pres. And thank our beloved goddess when you return, won’t you?”
“Of course.” They shared a long, solemn look. “I wish things were different, brother. I wish I was at your side, fighting the good fight. More than you can possibly know. Thank you for taking care of my girls and seeing to their happiness.”
Tears burned behind Alastair’s lids, and all he could do was nod. Damn, he was feeling the maudlin old fool, lately. All he wanted was his family around him for whatever remaining years he had left.
Preston embraced him one last time. “Don’t forget to take a pin or lancet with you. I believe that lock calls for a drop of Aether blood, but I can’t be sure.”
Before his brother could teleport back to the Otherworld, Alastair clasped his forearm. “Pres? Are you… happy?”
“I’m not unhappy, with the exception of how much I miss all of you. Isis’s consort is not a bad job.” Preston’s bittersweet smile turned mischievous. “Oh, and I’ve met someone. She refuses to give me the time of day, but I think I’m wearing her down.”
Alastair chuckled. “I have no doubt she’ll throw herself in your arms—sooner rather than later.”
“We are of the same mind, brother.”
And then he was gone. The smile slowly fell from Alastair’s face as he looked at the empty spot where Preston stood seconds ago. “I love you, Pres.”
Liz eyed Rafe where he sat against the wall. His eyes were closed, and deep emotion tightened the lines around his mouth, and it didn’t take a genius to guess the reason for his turmoil.
Sidling up to Marguerite, she touched the other woman’s shoulder. In a voice pitched for her ears alone, Liz asked, “What happened with Rafe’s mother? I’m assuming she was the one behind this.”
“She was.” Marguerite looked over her shoulder at Rafe. “The betrayal on his face was difficult to witness.”
“And Josephine?”
“I shot her through the heart.”
Marguerite had said it with such dispassion, Liz found it difficult to wrap her brain around her lack of reaction. She must’ve picked up on Liz’s disbelief because she said, “My aunt was like a rabid dog in recent years. As time went on, she snapped and snarled at anyone who tried to get close. I began to watch her in earnest about a month ago when I caught her conversing with herself.”
“Yet you never told Rafe?”
“He hadn’t been back in almost three decades, Ms. Thorne. How was I to know if he even cared?”
“If you knew him at all, it would be obvious he does,” Liz snapped.
Marguerite studied her through narrowed eyes. Finally, she nodded. “Perhaps. But our family was never like yours. There are at least ten Champeaus who live on the estate. Nine of which don’t care about anything or anyone other than the next society function. And while it’s a simple matter to conjure basic needs, it’s a little harder to maintain the finances for such a large estate. Especially when the property is listed in government records, and taxes need to be paid, or when the staff needs to collect their paychecks.”
Some of the anger Liz was experiencing left. Rafe’s cousin wasn’t to blame for Josephine’s unstable mind or her inability to love her son as a mother should. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“You did, but I accept your apology. Your deeper feelings are based on your love of Rafe, and I’m glad. He’s been lonely a long time.”
Her attention drifted back to him, only to find Rafe staring back at the two of them. His expression was stark, and Liz wanted nothing more than to run to him and wrap him in her arms. One hand dangled over his raised knee, and dejection hung over him like a black cloud. He probably saw himself that way.
“She cursed you both with blood magic, you know.”
Liz whipped her head back around and gaped at Marguerite.
“I’ll let Rafe explain, but you’ll need to make sure you find a way to kill the spell, so it doesn’t affect you both moving forward.”
“Thank y-you.” Suddenly cold, Liz hugged herself and rubbed her arms. “Is the temperature dropping in here?”
Alarm lit Marguerite’s classically beautiful face. Her air of detachment disappeared as she puffed out a breath. “I’m about to make the understatement of the year and say that can’t be good.”
In preparation to conjure a coat for Sabrina, Liz held out her hands.
“Don’t!” Rafe barked and surged to his feet. “Something dark is here. I can feel it pulsing and moving underground.”
“The Enchantress?” she whispered, as if by saying it softly, she wouldn’t be overheard by anyone other than them.
“It’s coming for Papa.”
“What is? What’s coming for him?” Fear curled in Liz’s belly and made her queasy as hell. What the hell could want Damian’s body so badly?
“It’s a death dragon.” Sabrina’s small voice shook, and she clutched her father tighter. “It wants to eat Papa’s soul.”
“That’s all we need right now.” Rafe swore under his breath. “We have to go, Liz.”
Marguerite nodded in agreement, shifting back and rubbing her hands together. “I’ve never heard of a death dragon, but it seems pretty serious.”
“Sabrina? Can we fight it off?”
“They don’t like fire.”
“It’s convenient I’m a fire elemental, then, isn’t it?” She tried to act cheerful, but the other three looked through her pretense.
“Actually, I’m a fire elemental, too,” Marguerite added. “You, me, and Rafe will form a triangle around them.”
“Should we create a circle of protection? Do you think it will help?” Liz asked, taking up a position at Damian’s head.
Rafe gave her a shrug. “Couldn’t hurt.”
“It won’t help, Miss Liz.” Sabrina sat up and looked around the chamber as if seeing it for the first time. “It comes up through the ground. We have to lift Papa.”
“Levitation is my party trick. I’ve got this.” Liz, in no way, had this. Her poker face needed work if the roll of Marguerite’s eyes was any indication. Poor woman probably saw her brain with that one. “What? You never played Light as a Feather as a kid?”
A distinctive, animalistic growl echoed around the room, and the dirt floor beneath them shifted and bucked like a wave from the sea. The continuous motion sent Liz crashing to her knee. The sound unnerved her, and she wasted no time as she shoved her hands under Damian’s stiff body. “Sabrina, support your papa’s head, sweetie.”
Rafe mimicked her action, and Marguerite latched onto Damian’s ankles.
“Dear Goddess, hear our plea,
assist us in our time of need.
His body make as light as air,
keep him from the death dragon snare.”
Sabrina actually giggled at the ridiculousness of Liz’s impromptu spell, triggering a snort from Rafe and another “are you for real” reaction from Marguerite. But luckily for Liz, the spell worked, and Damian’s body lifted from the ground to float waist-level.
“What do we do with him now?” Marguerite asked. “We can’t hold him suspended like this forever. There’s no way to even know if what’s after him is a death dragon. Why are we taking direction from a young child?”
Frankly, Liz didn’t care for Marguerite’s superior attitude. “She’s a baby Aether. She knows things. If she said a horde of earthworms was heading for us, I’d listen and take precautions.”
“A group of earthworms is called a clew, not a horde.”
“This is why you don’t have any friends,” Liz retorted.
The other woman stiffened and looked down her perfect, aristocratic nose at Liz. “I have friends.” But she didn’t look convincing.
The air around them grew heavy and sizzled just as Alastair stepped through a rift. His brows flew skyward as he took in the scene. “Dare I ask?”
“Death dragons,” Rafe supplied helpfully with a dry look at Liz.
“Look, if the kid said they exist, I believe her,” she growled.
Alastair nodded and moved forward to join them. “They absolutely exist.” He lifted a small jeweled chest. “Back to why I was gone, I believe I found what we’re looking for.”
“Thank the Goddess,” Liz murmured under her breath. She met Sabrina’s serious, dark gaze. “What’s next?”
“We have to put Papa in the circle to give him his magic back.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”