Captivating Magic (The Thorne Witches #14)

Chapter 6

6

“ W hat do you suppose got into her?” Castor said with a light laugh.

“Hmm. That’s a great question.” Alastair sent a considering glance toward the bedroom door. “Her emotions were ricocheting about.”

“It’s highly unusual behavior from her,” Laszlo replied, scrubbing his hands over his face. “If I had to guess, she’s overwhelmed by everything we’ve revealed.”

With a shake of his head, Alastair expressed what he was thinking. “The girl showed admirable resilience and strength during the earlier incident. But it was as if she shut her emotions behind a sturdy steel door and locked everyone out.”

“Hence the overwhelmed part,” Lo replied dryly.

Over the years, Laszlo’s natural-born humor had taken a backseat to his wife’s dour personality until he rarely cracked a smile. As someone who strove to ensure his family was happy as well as healthy, Alastair found it difficult to bite his tongue. The one time he did take the younger man aside to discuss the sorrowful state of his marriage, he was told in no uncertain terms to mind his own business.

Despite the Thornes’ “only love once” blessing—or curse, depending on who one was mated with—Alastair was damned if he’d allow a family member’s suffering to continue. Buying off Charlotte was easy. The woman ate, breathed, and shit money. If an item wasn’t diamond-encrusted, she’d turn up her nose and dismiss it. Her money-hungry personality wouldn’t allow her to forego his offer of one million per year for life. A life that wouldn’t be long, according to Isis.

Interestingly, for a man in love, Laszlo hadn’t objected to her leaving and seemed profoundly relieved. His cousin’s lack of caring cemented Alastair’s certainty he’d done the right thing.

The new development with Ebba interested him on many levels. But the main one consisted of Laszlo coming to life whenever she was in his general vicinity. His gaze would follow her, and the depressing gray his aura had developed throughout his marriage would disappear. His cousin hadn’t woken to the truth yet, but he loved the girl. Ebba, not Charlotte, was Laszlo’s true soulmate.

The problem, as Alastair saw it, was the woman’s reticence. The push and pull of her emotions fluctuated as if she were suppressing them on purpose— or somebody else was.

“Tell me about this boyfriend of hers who died,” he said to Laszlo. “What do you know of him?”

“Not much. I’d heard in passing from Liz that Ebba was seeing someone, but I didn’t know who.” Laszlo’s mouth turned down at the corners, and a strong wave of annoyance rolled off him as if the idea of Ebba dating another bothered him.

Good.

The information worked in Alastair’s favor. Now, if he could keep Castor from mucking things up, he’d have these two kids together in no time. His wife, Rorie, would get a kick out of him dusting off his matchmaking hat and likely insist on helping.

“What has you thinking so hard, Al?” Castor asked him with a knowing sparkle. “I recognize that look, but I’d like it confirmed.”

“Worry about your own affairs, Alexander.”

“Oh! It must be serious if you’re using my full name.”

“Sod off.” That expletive was the closest he could produce without calling down locusts on their small town, though there were many times a stronger sentiment would’ve been nice.

Castor laughed, and Alastair was hard-pressed not to join in. They had been friends for over half a century, and their children were joined in marriage, making them family forever. Around mid-thirties, the aging process for magical beings slows to a crawl, and Castor appeared little older than his son, Quentin. Of course, Alex took advantage of his good looks and used them to their fullest in his quest to seduce the entire female population. The exceptions were the Thorne women. The unspoken rule was they were off-limits. He’d be sure to add Ebba James to the list.

“If you’re concocting a scheme, and here I have no doubt you are, Al, I’d like to be privy to the details,” Laszlo said with a determined look. “I’ve known Ebba since we were children, and I’m determined nothing’s happening to her on my watch.”

“Isn’t he darling?” Castor taunted, folding his hand over his heart and batting his lashes. “It’s like he’s in love or something.”

None of them saw the melamine flower vase until it struck his forehead. Silk rose buds littered the sofa around them, and the sheer shock on Castor’s face sent Alastair off in peals of laughter. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes, and he held his ribs as he struggled to draw a breath.

Laszlo chortled his glee. “Well done, Spirit Ebba!”

The apartment lights flickered in what Alastair could only assume was her acknowledgment of Lo’s praise.

“I guess I should’ve warned you. She has a vicious temper and hates to be mocked,” Lo told Castor, adding a tsk-tsk to the mix.

Color crept up his friend’s neck, and Alastair placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Let it go, Alex. You started it.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got somewhere to be. Have fun with the haunting harridan.”

In a blink, he was gone.

“Was it something I said?” Lo’s dancing amber eyes proved his question was far from innocent.

Grinning, Alastair conjured two whisky tumblers and poured them each a dram of his favorite scotch. After handing one off, he tapped his glass to his cousin’s. “Well done. Now, let’s get down to business.”

As her headache dissipated, Ebba eased into a sitting position and hugged a pillow. Why was she resistant to Laszlo’s help in resolving her split-soul issue? She was the one who’d sought him out to take care of the problem. Yet once she’d discovered who was haunting her, she shut that shit down faster than a knife fight in a phone booth.

The logical side of her acknowledged she had a serious situation on her hands, but there was a niggling voice inside her brain urging caution. Whenever she tried to make strides toward resolving things, she received a massive migraine for her troubles.

A knock sounded on the bedroom door.

“Come in.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Lo turned the knob and peered into the room. “How are you feeling?”

He made no move to venture forward, and she couldn’t blame him for being gun-shy. Her earlier snottiness had confused her as much as it must’ve confused him.

“Better.” Offering up a smile, she gestured him closer. Once he’d seated himself sideways on the mattress, with one leg tucked under him and facing her, she nodded toward the living room. “Are the others still here?”

“No. Your ghostly self heaped abuse on Castor’s head for being a dick, and he left in a huff. Alastair wanted to consult with his son, Nash, at Thorne Industries. Maybe see what they could find in the family book.”

“Family book?”

“Grimoire. It’s where we store the spells passed down through history.”

“Those exist?” When he nodded, Ebba shook her head in wonderment. “I’ve watched witchy shows and movies, and I’ve always loved the idea of a spellbook. But I’ve never considered the reality of one existing before.”

“Would you like a little history?”

His willingness to share surprised her. Perhaps it shouldn’t have, considering he’d revealed what his family could do, but she didn’t think he’d be as open as he was.

After she nodded and scooted to the side for him to get comfortable beside her, Lo launched into the tale of the Goddess Isis.

“Six original families were gifted with abilities. We’re from her direct line, while others descend from different gods or goddesses. Over time, some married mortals and diluted their power, but?—”

“Wait! Are you saying if you marry someone who doesn’t possess magic, you lose some of yours? That’s bogus!”

He laughed. “No. I’m saying that any children from a non-magical union might not be as powerful as I am or my ancestors before me. They may be, but the likelihood is great that they won’t.”

“Oh. I thought it was some witch supremacy bullshit like you had to keep the lines pure,” she grumbled.

He expressed great amusement, and his amber-colored irises appeared lighter than earlier.

Ebba frowned as she stared into his face. “Your coloring is a tad different than your family. Why is that?”

Lifting his arm, Laszlo rolled up his sleeve and casually examined his olive-toned skin with an unconcerned air. “It’s probably a throwback to my Egyptian ancestors. Or maybe an illicit affair somewhere in the family tree, resulting in a child born on the wrong side of the sheets.”

“You joke, but wouldn’t it dilute your power?”

His grin was quicksilver, causing her heart to flutter. “Not if both parties possessed equal abilities.”

“Good point.” With a bump of her shoulder against his, she said, “Tell me about the other families. Would I know any of them?”

“I’m not sure. We’re not so different from anyone else, with one small exception. We work, fall in love, marry, and produce children just like the next person.”

“Liz and I met in middle school. I still can’t believe she never accidentally revealed what she was.” She’d be inclined to teach mean girls lessons in kindness. Although, looking back, she couldn’t recall anyone being particularly awful, so perhaps Liz had.

Knots formed in Ebba’s stomach whenever she thought about the colossal secret her best friend had hidden.

“Ebba, it isn’t that my sister didn’t trust you. She, like the rest of us, was under strict orders not to reveal what we are to mortals. Remember what Castor said about consequences?”

Frowning, she nodded slowly.

“Throughout history, when one of my kind believed they could trust another with the truth, bad things happened. Our most recent past consisted of the Witches War, where those who feared us tried to wipe us out.”

“ What? Who would do that?” The knot in her belly expanded and squeezed her heart. The ghastly images of Lo or Liz being hurt because of some stupid war plagued her mind. “How recent?”

“The war was about twenty years ago, but the last of the Désorcelers Society wasn’t disbanded until a year or so ago. They were hellbent on destroying all witches, and the Thornes in particular. We couldn’t use our real names whenever we traveled for fear of repercussions.”

Seen in that particular light, she could understand why the Thornes had remained mute about what they could do. The burning sense of betrayal wasn’t as fierce, though it still lingered.

“Liz had to know I could be trusted, though, right?” She gazed up at him, silently urging him to take her side. “How can you be friends with someone for close to thirty years and still think they’d stab you in the back?”

“Do you consider us friends, Ebba?”

“Of course!”

“But you’re not angry with me?”

“I might be. A little,” she admitted. “But it’s different with you, Lo. We aren’t close. Not like Liz and I.”

A shutter came down, and his features settled into a neutral mask as he nodded. “True enough. Anyway, you should call her. She’s texted me twelve times to check on you. She’ll be beating on?—”

Pounding came from the other room, and a wry smile curled his mouth.

“Do I know my sister or what?”

“How do you know it’s?—”

“Ebba?” Liz called as she hammered her fist on the entry door. “Ebba James, you’d better open this door and stop avoiding me right this minute!”

Lo’s brows shot up. “You were saying?”

“I—”

Liz entered with a bang as the handle slammed into the living room wall. She didn’t bother to be quiet as she stomped into Ebba’s bedroom followed by her husband, Rafe Xuereb.

“What the fuck, Ebba? You can’t be bothered to answer your phone or return a text?” Hurt and worry shone in her friend’s amber-colored eyes so like Lo’s. They were darker than usual, and it wasn’t the first time Ebba noticed the changing irises. Now, she had to wonder if it was related to a witch’s mood, because Lo’s had altered a minute ago, too, when she said they weren’t close.

She sucked in a breath and whipped her head around to stare at him. Was it possible he was upset by her comment? Nerves like live wires, she studied him as he studied her, and she experienced a driving need to know what he was thinking. Just as she was opening her mouth to ask, the piercing pain from earlier returned, wringing a cry from her.

Laszlo cradled her face between his large palms. “Breathe, Sweet. In and out, slowly for the count of four.”

Trailing fingers over her brow, he spoke gibberish, or if the words meant something, she couldn’t make it out. But the warmth from his fingertips as they traveled across her forehead caused a tingle in her extremities and her heart to hammer harder than before. He lowered her to the mattress, careful to position a pillow under her aching head. His presence both soothed her and triggered a cloying, claustrophobic reaction inside.

Wedging her arms between them, she shoved at his chest. “Get off me! Get off me!”

“Ebba, Sweet, I’m not on you. I’m not touching you in any way except for my fingers on your forehead. Hear my voice. Hear my words.”

Frowning, she tried her damndest to do as instructed, but the clawing need to get him away from her increased. She screamed, long and loud enough to bring Niall running, should he be inclined. In an instant, Lo was off the bed and across the room to stand beside the slack-jawed Xuerebs. Once again, excruciating pain jackhammered into her brain, causing her to cry out.

Laszlo stepped forward only to be stopped by Liz and Rafe.

Allowing darkness to take her, she closed her eyes and welcomed the relief of oblivion.