Captivating Magic (The Thorne Witches #14)

Chapter 18

18

T he living room furniture was pushed against the walls, creating a large blank space for the coming ceremony. Laszlo thanked his lucky stars Ebba wasn’t a pack rat, because there’d be no room to move despite the spaciousness of the apartment.

Castor and Alastair teleported the bed and its occupant to the center of the living room floor, but not without a wisecrack or ten from the Traveler.

“Dude, are you ever serious?” Lo snapped.

When Castor’s icy blue eyes met his, they were void of amusement. “My life has been a series of one trauma after another. I had a murderous family, and enemies who forced me to fake my death to protect my son and the woman I loved. Strangers had to raise Quentin so no one knew he was related to me. His entire life, he believed his father didn’t give a shit when, in fact, it was the opposite.” Sucking in a stabling breath, he dropped his shoulders. “If I seem blasé to you, Laszlo, it’s because I’ve had to put on an act since the day I learned to walk. But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care or take my responsibilities seriously.”

Feeling like an ass for his waspishness, Lo pressed a hand to the other man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Aw, does this make us besties?” Castor quipped, batting his eyelashes.

“Nope. Still don’t like you.” But the constant annoyance he’d felt for the man was gone, and Lo smiled to soften his reply. It helped that the guy had saved Ebba and was willing to do whatever it took to keep her alive.

“I know you,” Spencer stated. “You were there that night. You caused the accident.”

The accusation was dismissed by those who knew the truth, and his attempt to stir trouble among their group failed.

“Shut up, pig-fucker. No one believes a word out of your lying mouth,” Lo said.

“Pig-fucker?” Caster crowed his delight. “Careful, Laszlo Thorne. I’m beginning to see potential in a friendship.”

“Spare me.” To Ebba, Lo said, “Please wait in the farthest spot of your apartment. We can’t take the risk you’ll be pulled in with this spell, Sweet.”

After she was gone, they cast their circle and positioned themselves with one man at each corner of the bed.

“Damn! I forgot the globe.” Leaving the protective circle once created was never ideal, but he didn’t have a choice.

“What globe?” Damian asked with a frown. “You shouldn’t need any tool for this but the doll.”

Earlier, under the Aether’s advice, he’d texted his sister and suggested she and Rafe head home. With Damian here, they didn’t need the added artifacts. The man’s power was formidable, and although objects could enhance his abilities, in this instance, they weren’t needed except for a vessel for Spencer’s soul.

“It’s one Clutch gave to me. You remember, Al. I had it in the clearing.”

“Yes.” Alastair gave Damian a considering look. “Why would McClutchin give it to him if he didn’t need it?”

“I don’t know, but I’d like to find out.” Waving his hand, he extinguished the candles and swept the salt into a pile. “Please fetch your globe, Laszlo. My curiosity is aroused.” With a stern glance at Castor, he said, “Don’t say it.”

“You spoil all my fun.” Castor plopped on the bed, extended an arm along the headboard, and crossed his ankles. With his free hand, he tapped the clay doll. “How does this work?”

“Don’t touch that!” Lo gripped his wrist. “It’s the only thing keeping the pig-fucker’s soul locked in place.”

“Jeez. It’s like working for the Authority all over again. ‘Don’t do this. Don’t touch that. No killing the bad man,’” he mocked in a falsetto with a flip of his blond hair.

Stifling his amusement, Lo went in search of the globe. Finding it on the dresser, he picked it up and turned to go, but a picture stuck in the mirror’s corner caught his notice. Sixteen-year-old Ebba, dressed in that fucking hauntingly hot bikini he remembered so well, was tucked beneath his arm and laughing up at him. His younger self was looking down at her with a wolfish grin. Plucking the picture from its home, he studied it, seeing what he’d missed all his life.

He’d always been in love with Ebba, like she had with him.

Nineteen-year-old Laszlo wore such an expression of adoration, it was embarrassing to see. He didn’t recall who had snapped the picture, but the moment was imprinted within every section of his brain Damian had droned on about. She’d smelled like sunshine and goodness that day. So good, in fact, he’d wanted to eat her up. Touching her had become a secret obsession, but he’d kept his hands to himself because she was underage. Although, now that he thought about it, it hadn’t been so secret if his family had to threaten dismemberment.

Lo felt Ebba’s approach. The hair on his body stood at attention, and a restless energy zinged through him as it did whenever she was near.

“Why didn’t you make me see, Ebba?” he asked hoarsely.

“I thought it was all in my head. Something I desperately wanted and that my view was skewed.”

“We missed years. ” His voice sounded accusing to his own ears.

“What was I supposed to do or say, Lo? By the time I turned eighteen, you were with Charlotte. Did you want me to break up a happy couple because of a two-year-old picture I happened to have?” She cupped his cheek. “You were engaged by then, and I believed you loved her.”

“No. Not the way I should’ve.” Closing his eyes, he leaned into her palm. “Something always held me back, and I gave her whatever she wanted because I felt guilty I couldn’t love fully.”

“Maybe that’s why she was a raging bitch to any innocent female who smiled in your direction. She probably sensed it.”

“Fuck! I’m such an idiot.”

“No. You’re a kind man with a big heart who takes his obligations seriously.” She dropped her arm. “Liz told me you cast a spell to make Charlotte leave and your cousin set her up for life. Your family cares about people’s welfare.”

Laszlo jerked. “What?”

Ebba’s stomach tightened. “Am I wrong?”

“Not about the spell. Alastair helped me with that,” Lo said with a distracted air. “But I didn’t know about the money.”

He chuckled, then fell into hysteria, leaning against the dresser and holding his ribs, laughing like a damned loon.

“She’s a fucking millionaire!” he gasped out. “Between everything she made off me and the lifetime annuity I suspect Alastair gave her, she won the damned lottery.”

“And that’s funny ?” Ebba was inclined to be pissed the woman took the Thornes for a ride.

He sobered, but a small smile lingered. “Are you mad on my behalf, Sweet Ebba?”

“Yes! She’s a damned gold digger.”

“You wouldn’t take what was offered without coercion?”

Ebba shook her head. “No! I’d tell you to shove it up your ass.”

His grin flashed, and he wrapped his arms around her. “That, right there, is why I adore you.”

She grew lightheaded, and her pulse hammered, threatening to burst her heart had she been corporeal. The sensation wasn’t the pleasant one caused by attraction, but a feeling that made her sick.

“Lo?” Her voice was faint, and she struggled to stay alert. “Why?—”

Firm hands hauled her away and across the room. She was as stunned as Laszlo, based on his slack-jawed expression.

“Sorry to interrupt, but that globe you’re holding just came to life,” Castor said. “It’s glowing.”

“Fuck!”

Ebba’s knees buckled, and she was grateful for the strength of Castor’s embrace. “I feel like I’m going to vomit.”

Retching noises filled the room, and she peered out the door at Spencer.

“Turn him on his side,” Damian ordered.

“No! The doll!” Lo rushed forward.

“It’s secure,” Alastair assured him, pressing it in place.

A second wave of dizziness assailed her, and Ebba swayed.

“I’ve got you, love.” In a smooth, novel-hero move, Castor swept her into his arms and carried her to the living room. He laid her on the couch and, from thin air, produced a cool washcloth for her brow. If her heart didn’t already belong to Laszlo, she’d have fallen for the blond, godlike man leaning over her.

“You’re dangerous,” she said in a low voice.

His brows shot up, but then he grinned. “Not to you.”

“Especially to me. To any woman in your general vicinity.”

“I’ll remind you of this when I save you from Death’s door again .”

Ebba tsked. “Sorry, but my memory will be wiped. I won’t remember your roguish smile or your gentlemanly way of rescuing damsels in distress.”

With a laugh, he rose. “I’ll have to arrange a proper meeting. Preferably at a time before you lose your heart to that one.” He jabbed a thumb in Laszlo’s direction.

“Christ, I can’t leave you two alone for a second,” Lo complained as he crossed to them. “Flirt, flirt, flirt.”

“It keeps you on your toes, babe.” She smiled at him and was pleased to see his grin. “ You , I will remember,” she promised.

“I’m counting on it. But if not, we’ll make new memories.”

The globe lit again, and Ebba curled into a ball as a wave of nausea struck. Pain pierced her abdomen, causing her to cry out.

Spencer resumed retching.

“Back up, man!” Castor snapped. “Whatever punch that thing is packing, it’s lethal to her.”

Lo dashed to the kitchen, and the loud slamming of cabinets jolted her from her misery curl.

“What the hell is he doing?” she croaked.

“Filling a pot with water.” Castor appeared confused, but then he grinned. “Clever.”

“What is? What’s clever?”

“He immersed it in water and shoved it in the oven with a lid on the pan. It’s his way of getting it as far away from you as possible without throwing it out the window.”

And it appeared to be working. Spencer had stopped dry heaving, and Ebba’s pain receded, leaving behind a clammy sensation.

She sat up and pressed her thumbs to her eye sockets, then inhaled deeply, attempting to regain her composure. Her reaction to the pain was cringy, but at least she hadn’t tossed up her cookies like Spencer. Although, if the fucking body snatcher was physically feeling her pain, it would make sense that he had. Still, she hated to give him any grace.

Lo returned and knelt at her feet, rubbing his hands along the outside of her thighs. “I’m sorry I was slow on the uptake. Are you okay, Ebba?”

His worry was endearing but unnecessary.

“I’m fine.” She brushed back a dark lock of hair shielding his intense eyes. “I swear.”

“Did I see markings illuminated on that globe?” Damian asked.

Laszlo nodded, and the Aether shot a thoughtful look toward the stove.

“I’d like to take a few minutes to study it.” When they protested, he held up a hand. “I’ll create a force field around Ebba, and it won’t affect her in any way.”

With their main objection neutralized, they agreed.

Damian approached her with a warm smile, and Ebba had difficulty remembering to breathe. Not that it mattered, because she wasn’t living. But the stern-eyed stare from Lo was flattering. Call her twisted, but she liked his jealous act.

“It’s best if all of you stay inside the dome I create. No matter what happens, don’t break the barrier until I say,” the Aether warned.

Pressing his palms together, he shut his eyes. The language was undecipherable to Ebba, but there was a musicality to the way he spoke it. Around them, the atmosphere grew heavy and crackled, as it had when he first arrived. Growing between his hands was a ruby-colored ball, and like the gemstone, it appeared faceted. How it differed was in its density. Instead of a solid rock, it resembled a soap bubble, expanding as he separated his hands. Inside, sparks ignited, popping off like miniature lightning bolts.

She was supposed to stand inside that thing? Was he mental?

His lids flew open, and his gaze locked with hers. Ebba gasped at how his eyes had transformed from their obsidian color to molten-silver.

The ruby bubble expanded until it consumed the entire space between them, and with a flick of his wrist, he chucked it in their direction.

She screamed.

Laughter from the men caused her to open her scrunched-tight lids. Looking around in wonder, she shook her head. Where there was nothing before, a filmy, see-through wall stood, its depth similar to a wood-studded one. The lightning bolts existed within the confines of its structure, unable to reach them.

“Are you all right, Ebba?” Damian asked with a humor-filled smile.

“Peachy.”