Witch’s Promise (Shadowguards #3.5)

5. Sean

Chapter 5

Sean

T he bell above the door chimed softly as Sean pushed his way into "Petal Pushers," the scent of flowers washing over him like a comforting embrace. It was a familiar ritual, one he'd performed countless times over the years. The shop's interior was a riot of colors and fragrances, but Sean's eyes automatically sought out the pristine white tulips nestled in a corner display.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite customer," a warm voice called out. Mrs. Landry, the shop's owner, emerged from behind a veritable wall of sunflowers, her smile as bright as the blooms surrounding her. "The usual, I presume?"

Sean managed a small smile in return, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You know me too well, Mrs. L. How's business?"

As Mrs. Landry bustled about, expertly arranging the tulips into a bouquet, she launched into a cheerful update on the shop's latest happenings. Sean listened with half an ear, grateful for the familiar patter of conversation that required little input from him. It was easier this way, to let the words wash over him without having to engage too deeply.

"There you are, dear," Mrs. Landry said, presenting him with the finished bouquet. The white tulips were perfect, as always, their petals unblemished and softly luminous. "Give her our love, won't you?"

Sean's throat tightened. He nodded, not trusting his voice. Mrs. Landry's kindness, her tacit understanding of his weekly pilgrimage, sometimes felt like more than he deserved.

As he paid and turned to leave, Mr. Landry appeared from the back room. "Sean, my boy! How are you holding up? You know, if you ever need a job, we could always use an extra pair of hands around here."

Sean forced another smile, shaking his head. "Thanks, Mr. L, but I'm doing okay. Just taking it day by day, you know?"

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He wasn't okay. Hadn't been okay for a long time. But it was easier to pretend, to keep the world at arm's length rather than let anyone see the mess he'd become.

With a final wave, Sean stepped back out into the Salem sunshine. The contrast between the shop's peaceful interior and the bustling street was jarring, and for a moment, Sean felt unmoored, adrift in a sea of normalcy he no longer belonged to.

Shaking off the feeling, he made his way to where his motorcycle was parked. The sleek black machine was one of the few indulgences he allowed himself, a remnant of a life he'd left behind. As he swung his leg over the seat, carefully settling the bouquet in front of him, Sean felt some of the tension leave his body. Out here, on the open road, he could outrun his demons. At least for a little while.

The engine roared to life, drowning out the cacophony of his thoughts. Sean eased into traffic, muscle memory guiding him through the familiar streets of Salem. It was strange, how a place could feel like home and a foreign country at the same time. Every corner held a memory, some good, some not so much.

As Sean navigated the winding roads leading out of town, his mind drifted back to that day when his world had shattered. He'd been ten, a scrawny kid with too much attitude and not enough sense. The memory hit him like a sucker punch, as vivid and painful as if it had happened yesterday.

He'd come home from school, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder, ready to regale his mother with tales of his latest adventures. But instead of her warm smile and the smell of freshly baked cookies, he'd found his father standing in the kitchen, face ashen and eyes hard.

"Your mother's gone, Sean," his father had said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Heart attack. There was nothing they could do."

The words hadn't made sense at first. Mom, gone? But she'd been fine that morning, laughing as she packed his lunch, promising to take him to the park after school. How could she just be gone?

In the days that followed, Sean had watched his father go through the motions of grief. The funeral arrangements, the consoling phone calls, the steady stream of casseroles from well-meaning neighbors. But something had been off, a discord in the symphony of sorrow that Sean couldn't quite put his finger on.

It wasn't until years later, when Sean had learned the true nature of the Drake family business, that the pieces started to fall into place. The faint smell of ozone that had lingered in the house that day. The way his father's eyes never quite met his when he spoke of his mother’s death. The hushed conversations that stopped abruptly whenever Sean entered a room.

Had it really been a heart attack? Or had his mother stumbled upon something she wasn't meant to see, learned a truth about her husband that she couldn't live with?

Sean gripped the handlebars tighter, pushing the bike faster as if he could outrun the doubts that plagued him. He'd never confronted his father about his suspicions. Part of him was afraid of what he might learn, afraid that the fragile relationship they'd rebuilt over the years would crumble under the weight of the truth.

The pavement gave way to a dirt road, the bike's suspension working overtime as Sean navigated the bumpy terrain. The forest closed in around him, branches reaching out like gnarled fingers, scraping against his leather jacket. It was a fitting gateway, Sean thought, to the sanctuary that lay beyond.

Finally, the trees parted, revealing a small clearing bathed in dappled sunlight. In the center, surrounded by a riot of wildflowers, stood a simple stone marker. Sean cut the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening. For a moment, he just sat there, drinking in the peacefulness of the place.

This was where Elaine Drake had chosen to rest, a secluded spot in the heart of the forest she'd loved so much. Sean remembered the day they'd buried her here, how he'd clung to his father's hand as the druid priestess had performed the ritual. Even then, lost in his grief, he'd understood why this place was perfect. His mother had been a druid, more at home among the trees and flowers than in any man-made structure.

Sean dismounted, his boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. He approached the grave marker, tulips clutched in one hand, and knelt before it. Gently, he began to clear away the debris that had accumulated since his last visit leaves and twigs and the general detritus of the forest floor.

"Hey, Mom," he said softly, placing the tulips at the base of the stone. "Sorry it's been a while."

A gentle breeze rustled through the clearing, caressing Sean's cheek like a mother's touch. He closed his eyes, remembering his mother's words: "If you ever want to talk to me, just feel the earth beneath you, and I'll be there."

Sean pressed his palms against the cool grass, imagining he could feel his mother's presence rising up through the soil, enveloping him in a ghostly embrace.

"I miss you," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Every damn day. I keep thinking, if you were here, maybe things would be different. Maybe I wouldn't have fucked everything up so badly."

The guilt rose in his throat, thick and choking. His mother had been the heart of their family, the glue that held them together. And when she died everything fell apart.

"Dad's... Dad," Sean continued, opening his eyes to stare at the carved name on the stone. "Sometimes I wonder if he had something to do with with what happened to you."

The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and doubt. Sean had never voiced that suspicion aloud before, had barely allowed himself to think it. But here, in this place where secrets seemed to matter less, the truth spilled out.

"I don't know what to do, Mom," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm trying to be better, to fix the things I've broken. But sometimes it feels like I'm just making everything worse."

The wind picked up, sending leaves skittering across the clearing. Sean imagined it was his mother's response, urging him to continue, to unburden himself of the weight he'd been carrying for so long.

"I met someone," Sean said, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the pain in his chest. "His name is Gabe. Was Gabe, I guess. I fucked that up too."

He told her about Gabe then, about the way his smile could light up a room, about his unwavering belief in doing what was right. He told her about the fear that had gripped him when he'd learned about Gabe's magical abilities, the prejudice and misunderstanding that had driven a wedge between them.

"You would have loved him, Mom," Sean said softly. "He's... he's everything I'm not. Kind, brave, selfless. And I threw it all away because I was too scared to face the truth."

The admission hung in the air, heavy with regret and longing. Sean had never spoken those words aloud before, had barely allowed himself to think them. But here, in this place where the veil between worlds felt thin, the truth spilled out.

"I don't know how to make it right," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't even know if I deserve the chance to try. But I miss him, Mom. I miss the person I was when I was with him."

Sean fell silent, listening to the whisper of the wind through the trees, the distant call of a bird. It was peaceful here, in a way that nowhere else was. For a moment, he could almost believe that his mother was really listening, that she might have some wisdom to impart that would make everything okay again.

But the only response was the rustle of leaves and the soft thud of his own heartbeat. Sean sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm scared, Mom," he admitted, the words barely audible.

The guilt washed over him anew, a tidal wave of shame and regret.

"I wish you were here," Sean whispered, his fingers tracing the carved letters of his mother's name. "You always knew what to say, how to make things better. I feel so lost without you."

The breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the earthy scent of the forest. Sean closed his eyes, allowing himself to be lulled by the peaceful sounds of nature. For a moment, he could almost pretend that everything was okay, that he wasn't carrying the weight of guilt and regret on his shoulders.

"I knew I would find you here."

The voice shattered Sean's moment of peace like a sledgehammer through glass. His eyes snapped open, body tensing as if preparing for a fight. Slowly, he turned to face the intruder, though he already knew who it was.

His father stood at the edge of the clearing, a bouquet of lilies clutched in one hand. He looked older than Sean remembered, the lines on his face deeper, his hair more gray than black now. But his eyes were the same - cold, calculating, always searching for weakness.

"Dad," Sean said, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. "What are you doing here?"

His father stepped forward, his expensive shoes sinking slightly into the soft earth. "Is it so strange that I'd want to visit my wife's grave?"

Sean bit back a bitter laugh. Strange? No. Unexpected? Absolutely. In all the years since his mother's death, he could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen his father here.

"You brought flowers," Sean observed, nodding towards the lilies.

"Your mother always loved lilies," his father said, his voice softening slightly as he placed the bouquet next to Sean's tulips.

For a moment, they stood in awkward silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between them. Sean watched his father out of the corner of his eye, trying to reconcile this man with the larger-than-life figure of his childhood. It was hard to believe that this was the same person he'd once idolized, the man he'd been so desperate to please.

"How long are you going to keep this up, Sean?" His father asked finally, his tone sharp.

Sean's jaw clenched. "Keep what up?"

"This rebellion," His father waved a hand dismissively. "Playing at being normal, pretending you don't have responsibilities to the family, to the organization."

And there it was. The real reason for his father's visit. Sean should have known it wouldn't be as simple as paying respects to his mother.

"I'm not playing at anything," Sean said, struggling to keep his voice even. "I'm living my life, Dad. My own life, not the one you mapped out for me."

"You have a duty, Sean. A legacy to uphold. How long do you think you can run from that?"

The words hit Sean like physical blows, each one dredging up memories he'd tried so hard to bury. The first time his father had put a gun in his hands. The cold sweat that had broken out on his skin when he'd realized what he was expected to do. The nightmares that still plagued him, faces of the people whose lives he'd ended in the name of "family duty."

"I'm not running," Sean said, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm choosing a different path. One that doesn't involve murder and extortion."

"You think it's that simple? That you can just walk away from who you are, from what our family has built?"

Sean's hands clenched into fists at his sides. He could feel the anger building, a familiar heat in his chest that threatened to consume him. "What we've built?" he spat. "You mean the empire of blood and fear you've created? The lives you've destroyed? Yeah, I think I can walk away from that."

For a moment, something flashed in his father’s eyes - hurt, maybe, or disappointment. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the cold mask Sean knew all too well.

"You know about the organization's financial troubles," Viktor said. It wasn't a question.

Sean's blood ran cold. How the hell did his father know that he knew? Had Katelyn been compromised? Shit, had he put her in danger?

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sean lied, hating how easily the deception came to him even now.

Viktor's smile was razor-sharp. "Come now, Sean. We both know that's not true. You've always been too curious for your own good. It's time to stop these games and come back. The organization needs you. I need you."

The words hit Sean like a sucker punch to the gut. How many times had he longed to hear his father say he needed him? But not like this. Never like this.

"No," Sean said, the word ringing out in the quiet clearing. "I'm not coming back. I'm not going to be your puppet, your weapon. Find someone else to do your dirty work."

"Someone else? Like Riley?”

"If he's so great, why do you need me?" Sean challenged.

"Because you're my son," his father said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "This is your birthright, Sean. Your destiny."

Sean laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. "Destiny? Is that what we're calling it now? Tell me something, Dad. Was it Mom's 'destiny' to die young? Was it her 'birthright' to be collateral damage in your grand plans?"

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and accusatory. His father’s face went pale, then flushed with anger.

"Watch your mouth, boy," he growled. "You don't know what you're talking about."

But Sean was beyond caring about consequences now. The dam had broken, and years of suspicion and resentment came flooding out.

"Then tell me," he demanded. "Tell me how Mom really died. Because I don't buy the heart attack story. Not anymore."

His father’s hand shot out, gripping Sean's arm with bruising force. "Enough," he hissed. "Your mother's death was a tragedy, nothing more. Don't you dare try to turn it into something it wasn't."

Sean wrenched his arm free, taking a step back. "You're lying," he said, his voice shaking with a mixture of anger and grief. "You've always been lying. About Mom, about the organization, about everything."

"You want the truth, Sean?" His father said, his voice low and dangerous. "The truth is, the world is a harsh, unforgiving place. I've done what I had to do to protect this family, to give you a future. If you're too weak to accept that, then maybe you're right. Maybe you don't belong in this organization after all."

The words hit Sean like a physical blow, reopening old wounds he'd thought long healed. He wanted to scream, to rage, to demand answers to questions he'd been asking himself for years. But what was the point? His father would never give him the truth, not really.

"I'm leaving," Sean said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. "Don't follow me. Don't try to contact me. Just leave me alone."

As he turned to go, his father called out, "You can't run forever, Sean. Sooner or later, you'll have to face who you really are."

Sean's hand clenched around his motorcycle keys, the metal biting into his palm. He was one step away from freedom, from putting this whole fucked up conversation behind him. But something in his father's tone made him pause, a hint of smugness that set alarm bells ringing in his head.

Slowly, Sean turned back, eyeing his father warily. "What are you talking about?"

His father's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You think I don't keep tabs on my own son? My scouts found something very interesting. Or should I say, someone?"

The bottom dropped out of Sean's stomach. No. No, it couldn't be.

"Gabe's back in Salem, isn't he?" His father's voice was soft, almost gentle, but Sean could hear the underlying threat as clearly as if he'd shouted it.

Sean's world tilted on its axis. Gabe. Here. In Salem. How the fuck had he missed that? And more importantly, how the hell did his father know?

"Leave him out of this," Sean growled, taking a step towards his father. His hands shook with the effort of not grabbing the older man by the collar and shaking him. "Gabe has nothing to do with any of this."

His father tsked, shaking his head like Sean was a disappointing child. "Oh, but he does. He has everything to do with this. After all, he's the reason you left, isn't he? The reason you turned your back on your family, on your duty."

Memories flashed through Sean's mind - Gabe's smile, his laugh, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his magic. The look of betrayal on his face when Sean had walked away, too scared and too stupid to accept the truth of who Gabe was.

"I mean it, Dad," Sean said, his voice low and dangerous. "Stay away from him. You've done enough damage."

His father's eyes hardened. "I've done damage? I've protected this family, given you everything. And this is how you repay me? By throwing it all away for some... magical freak?"

The words hit Sean like a physical blow. He surged forward, grabbing his father by the front of his expensive suit. "Don't you ever talk about him like that," he snarled. "Gabe is twice the man you'll ever be."

For a moment, they stood there, locked in a tableau of fury and resentment. Then, slowly, his father pried Sean's fingers from his jacket.

"You're not thinking clearly, son," he said, his voice maddeningly calm. "Come home. We can sort this out. Together."

Sean stumbled back, shaking his head. "No. No, I'm done. With you, with the organization, with all of it. Just stay the fuck away from me. And stay away from Gabe."

Without waiting for a response, Sean turned and strode towards his bike. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out whatever his father might have been saying. He swung his leg over the seat, the familiar rumble of the engine offering little comfort as he peeled out of the forest clearing.

The trees blurred past as Sean pushed the bike to its limits, his mind racing even faster than the speedometer. Gabe was here. In Salem. Why hadn't he known? And more importantly, what the fuck was he going to do about it?

Part of him, a part he wasn't proud of, wanted to turn tail and run. To get the hell out of Salem and never look back. It would be safer that way, for both of them. His father knew Gabe was here, which meant Gabe was in danger. Sean's presence would only make that danger worse.

But the thought of leaving without seeing Gabe, without at least trying to make things right... it twisted Sean's gut into knots.

As he hit the outskirts of Salem, Sean eased off the throttle, his mind made up. He had to find Gabe. Had to warn him, protect him if necessary. And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to apologize for all the hurt he'd caused.

Sean snorted at his own optimism. As if a simple "I'm sorry" could make up for years of pain and betrayal. He'd be lucky if Gabe didn't slam the door in his face. And honestly? Sean wouldn't blame him one bit.

But he had to try. He owed Gabe that much, at least.