Captivating Magic (The Thorne Witches #14)

Chapter 16

16

E bba chose not to receive an energy boost, preferring to rest and revitalize in her own time, and Laszlo was loath to see her go. If their hours were limited, he wanted to spend as many with her as possible.

And they were limited.

Never once in the years since he’d been helping as a liaison between the living and dead had he known a spirit not to head into the afterlife. Unless his family and friends came up with something before Death’s deadline, Ebba would, too.

Off to the side, feeling he had nothing to contribute, Lo observed the others as they discussed the situation. He felt a tug on his sleeve and glanced down.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Laszlo.” Like her father, Sabrina Dethridge carried a wealth of knowledge behind her solemn obsidian eyes. How did one as young as she deal with all the ugliness that came with her visions?

“I’m trying not to, Miss Beastie.”

A small smile curled her lips. “I like Miss Beastie. My Guardian calls me Wee Beastie.”

“I can see where that would be appropriate,” Lo agreed dryly. Indeed, she was pint-sized for her age, standing no taller than his waist.

He curbed the urge to run a hand down her silky black tresses, along with the longing for a daughter of his own. Charlotte had never wanted kids, and in one of his many attempts to make her happy, he’d agreed. At forty-two, he wasn’t too old, but he’d hate it if his particular gift were passed to a child of his.

With a sage nod, Sabrina turned to watch the three lifelong friends. “They always find a way,” she said. “It’s why the Goddess brought them together.”

“Alastair and your dad are distant cousins. It was bound to happen.”

She giggled. “Yes, but Uncle Alex came later. He makes them laugh.”

“As I expect do you.”

“Can I tell you a secret? You have to promise not to tell my papa.”

“I can’t promise if I don’t know what it is. I’ll not agree to something that could place you in harm’s way, Miss Beastie.”

“No, it won’t. It’s about Ebba. She?—”

“Sabrina Dethridge, not another word!” Damian commanded from across the room.

“Mama says he has eyes in the back of his head, and I believe it,” she muttered in disgust.

Lo laughed, unable to hold it in. Her disgruntled expression was priceless. “It’s better if you let this play out like it’s supposed to,” he said, squatting to peer at her too-serious face. “I heard what you and your dad said about the Fates, and I’d rather not know than place you in danger.”

“I was just going to give you a little nudge in the right direction.” She cast a side glance at her stern father. “Mama said that’s allowed sometimes.”

“I think she probably meant for immediate family. But if it comes down to the wire and it looks like I’m screwing things up royally, I permit you to issue a course correction. How’s that?”

She grinned and sandwiched his face between her tiny hands. “You would make a great papa, Mr. Laszlo.”

“I’ve always thought so. But I’d also ask what you’re doing up this late and say things like, ‘Shouldn’t you be in bed, young lady?’”

Laughing, she patted his cheek. “No, you wouldn’t. Like Papa, you’d fix your kid a bowl of ice cream.”

“Only if my wife wasn’t looking.”

“Miss Ebba would want a bowl, too.”

The mental picture of Ebba and him sharing dessert with their mischievous daughter caused his heart to contract.

“She’d have made a great mom,” he agreed roughly. Clearing his throat, Lo rose and held out a hand to Sabrina. “Let’s see what they’ve come up with to help her.”

“I’m sorry you’re sad.”

“It’s the situation.”

She slid her hand into his and tugged him toward the others. Other than to cast them a quick, curious look, Damian didn’t comment on Lo being led around by a ten-year-old child. He acted as if his daughter taking charge of the room was an everyday occurrence, and maybe it was, but for Lo, the entire episode was strange.

“I think we should tell him, Papa,” Sabrina said.

“It’s forbidden.”

“I have the right to know if it involves Ebba or me, Dethridge.” Frustration was building inside him, and he clenched his jaw against the need to spill expletives. Had a child not been present, he’d have given in and swore not only a blue streak but red, green, purple, and black ones, too.

“I agree. You do. However, I won’t put my daughter at risk because of your entitlement. Yes, she is destined to be the Oracle, but not for years to come. How she decides to use her powers when she’s taken up the mantle is her choice, but until then, I’ll protect her as best I can.” Damian stood. “Wouldn’t you do the same, Laszlo? Wouldn’t you go to any length to protect those you love?”

There was a deeper meaning behind the question. A test of sorts. One Lo couldn’t fail, or he’d risk losing Ebba forever.

“I would and will,” he said, acknowledging, if only to himself, how much he cared for her.

Satisfaction flared in the other man’s eyes, and Damian’s lips curled, emphasizing his emotion. With a decisive nod, he gestured to the couch. “Have a seat. We must strategize.”

Laszlo frowned. “I thought that’s what you were doing already.”

“In a sense. But you’re an essential part of this equation.” Damian cupped Sabrina’s cheek. “Please return home to your mother, my love. She’ll be worried sick if she wakes to find us both gone.”

“But, Papa—” When she understood her wheedling would do no good, she crossed her arms and jutted her chin. “I’m needed here.”

“Beastie,” he growled.

His irritation gave weight to the room’s atmosphere, and taking a deep breath was difficult. Their clash of wills created literal sparks in the air around them. Neither noticed, but Lo, Alastair, and Castor did.

“What the actual fuck?” he whispered to Al. “Is this normal? It’s like I’m experiencing altitude sickness.”

“I’m afraid it is,” Castor replied. He jumped to his feet, scooped up Sabrina, and tossed her across his shoulder like a potato sack. “I’ll see she gets home or, at the very least, in the care of her Guardian. Fix my mistake, or devise a foolproof way for me to.”

His eerie, light eyes locked with Lo’s. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“I get the impression it’s not a word you’re familiar with,” he replied, not unkindly.

“I rarely do things I need to apologize for. But in this”—Castor shrugged his free shoulder—“I believed I was doing the right thing for her. If I need to go back in time to fix it?—”

Sabrina grunted behind his back. “That’s what I was trying to say, but you wouldn’t listen!”

Damian sighed heavily. “When will I learn?” With a finger swirl, he indicated for Castor to set her down. “Tell us the next step, and get to bed, Beastie.”

Her superiority was unnerving. “Uncle Alex has to go back, but Laszlo has to go, too.”

Castor’s brows slammed together, and he shook his head. “I’ve never traveled with another. Other than to teleport, I’m not sure I can. Taking him back to a place where he didn’t exist is impossible.”

“I did exist five months ago,” Lo said, confused.

“Yes, but you weren’t at the accident scene. Meaning, I can’t take you to that spot.”

“Hm.” Alastair stroked his lower lip with his thumb while they waited for him to voice his thoughts.

“Jaysus. Spit it out, Al. The kid has to get to bed already,” Castor said.

The faint laugh lines beside Alastair’s sapphire eyes deepened, though he never cracked a smile. “I was remembering how your future self delivers messages to your past or present self on occasion. What’s to stop you from doing it again?”

“If you recall, when I do that, my present self tends to pass out. With no one else around, who receives the message?”

Alastair nodded. “Actually, I do remember. Consider going farther back, to when you and I had lunch.”

“That might do it.” Castor’s thoughtful gaze turned distant, and they remained quiet, allowing him to work through his process.

Lo understood the concept of a Traveler and had been subject to a recounting of the man’s exploits, but he’d never seen him in action. His curiosity was full-blown. What would it be like to manipulate time? To go back to whenever and wherever you’d been to right a wrong? The idea held appeal.

“What does that mean for me?” Ebba asked.

As one, they turned. Her eyes were dull, and her body was semitransparent, allowing Lo to see into the bedroom behind her. Her expenditure of energy had cost her.

“If I die at the scene, I’ll have missed this. All of you.” But she only had eyes for Laszlo, and he grasped her meaning. Today’s events would never have happened, and they’d miss the precious hours they’d shared bonding.

“No one is letting you die, child,” Alastair said, standing and crossing to her. He grasped her hands, infusing her with enough energy to solidify her spirit again.

“Thank you.”

The face she turned up to him was tragic, and Lo’s heart seized. Undoubtedly, his expression reflected the same emotion. Unable to bear the distance, he joined them.

“If we’re meant to be, it will happen, Sweet Ebba,” he said, caressing her cheek. The strength of his desperation was greater than any emotion he’d ever experienced. He had to save her. “I’ll make sure of it. I promise.”

Ebba leaned into his touch, seeking the warmth. “You can’t, Lo. You won’t remember, and neither will I.” Inside, her heart was breaking, an anomaly according to the Aether.

She moved past them and stopped in front of Castor. If this traveling business was dangerous for him, she’d put her foot down. She’d be damned if anyone else would be hurt trying to set this to rights.

“And what do you risk by altering the past, Alex? Is it harmful for you to exist in the same space and time? I’m certain I read or heard a theory that it was.”

“Other than passing out and hitting my head, the effects have been minimal.” He grinned. “What’s a small bump on the ol’ noggin’ between friends?”

She hadn’t known him long, but she’d bet her last dollar the man was seldom serious. “Who doesn’t love a man willing to take one for the team?”

His grin was roguish as he lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “See? You get me.”

She laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“So we keep telling him,” Alastair said dryly. “He refuses to listen.”

“You’re just jealous she finds me intriguing, Al.”

“Yes, that’s it.” His droll expression also held indulgence.

She’d grown fond of the men in the hours since meeting them. Maybe it was how easy they were to be around. Or perhaps they were the uncles she’d never had. Wouldn’t Castor be salty if he knew she thought of him as a relation instead of lover material? Either way, she couldn’t shake the feeling she would lose something precious if they altered the timeline.

“What is it, Sweet?” Lo lifted his hand, but immediately dropped it.

A glance toward the wall mirror showed her why. Despite the Aether’s energy infusion, it had only lasted mere minutes, and she was fading— fast . “They won’t see or hear me, will they?”

“Papa and I will.” Sabrina pointed to Alastair and Castor. “They won’t.”

“I want to thank you while I can,” she told the group. The remainder of the things she wished to say closed her throat. If she could’ve relayed how much their caring meant, she would’ve. She’d have also assured them she would understand if their mission to save her failed.

Alastair’s warm smile said his empathic abilities were in proper working order. With him, she didn’t need to say a word. Although she wanted to hug Castor, she settled for a smile.

“I may miss you most of all, Scarecrow.”

“Ah, Dorothy. Don’t you worry, love. We’ll make it right.”

Laszlo cleared his throat. “Also, I object to you missing him more than me.”

She laughed, surprised she could under the weight of her sadness. “You’ll always be in my life or afterlife, as the case may be.”

“No, Sweet.” His tone was somber, and she fucking hated it. “If you die for real, you can’t linger.”

“I don’t understand. You talk to spirits, Lo.”

“What he’s trying to say, Ms. James, is that he’s a Reaper’s assistant,” Damian said. “He helps souls cross over to their proper plane.”

“He’s a paranormal investigator,” she argued, scowling. “Tell him, Lo.”

“I’m not, Ebba. You assumed I was. I’m actually a liaison and help the dead see it’s best to go.”

Awash with panic, she felt sick. “All this”—she waved a hand between them—“has been an act to get me to… to…”

“No!” His alarm seemed legit. “I told you before. I’m not delivering you to Death.”

“But you have? With others?”

Closing his eyes, he nodded.

Her mind reeled. Were there people, like her, who’d felt forced to cross before they were ready? She didn’t realize she’d voiced the question until Laszlo shot Damian a sickly look.

“There were!” she accused. “You forced them to go with Death.”

“It isn’t like that?—”

“Then tell me what it’s like?” The strength of her fury stirred the curtains, but those wisps of air didn’t feel substantial enough for her mood. “I trusted you, Lo. I believed you when you said you’d help.”

“I am helping, Ebba. Why the hell do you think they’re all here?” he shouted back.

“Or maybe Spencer was right.”

He jerked as if she’d struck him.

“I want you all to leave,” she said stonily.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Ms. James.” Damian eased Laszlo away and took his place before her. “If we do nothing, your spirit will stay bound to the earth. Years will pass, and your memories will fade. With the passage of time, you’ll become vengeful.”

“How do you know?”

“You’ll have to trust me on this one.”

“He’s ancient,” Castor supplied helpfully.

Damian rolled his eyes, then nodded. “He’s not wrong.”

“Death told me she’d come if Lo didn’t deliver me,” Ebba said, confused by the situational about-face.

“She likely will. She won’t, however, be able to reap your soul. Had any other witch bound you, she might, but Castor is descended from a god. I suspect he accidentally supercharged his spell with emotion.”

She nodded, running her gaze over Castor’s exquisite form. “That explains the perfect looks.”

“Right here, Ebba.” Lo crossed his arms, and a mulish expression settled on his features. “Not cool.”

“I’m done talking to you,” she informed him. “You’re a liar.”

“I didn’t lie,” he ground out.

“You didn’t tell the truth either!”