Читать книгу Entangled Secrets - Pat Esden - Страница 12

Chapter 3

Take me, sweet slumber.

Give my flesh to the Shade. Give my breath to the sky.

I have no use for either. I crave neither thorns nor rose.

—Suicide note found on clairvoyant goth’s body

What makes me so willing to believe things others dismiss as unreal? Chandler couldn’t get the question out of her mind. She also had a sneaking suspicion the Circle wasn’t going to be able to shake Lionel until they knew the answer.

Mostly, she was just glad when Devlin called the impromptu meeting finished and escorted Lionel out to his car. She was also glad that no one jumped down her throat about the technique she’d used to tell Lionel the truth. Both Gar and Chloe agreed it was a good move, though it had taken them by surprise at first. She was even happier when Peregrine raced into the living room with a big smile on his face and a trio of squirming kittens squished against his chest. Em followed in his wake.

The kittens technically belonged to Em, though the coven had adopted them. Like Chloe, Em was a recent initiate to the coven. She was a slight woman in her early twenties, an alcoholic recovering from her addiction and a horribly abusive past as a legendary psychic medium. The coven had offered Em sanctuary at the complex, similar to the way Em had rescued the tiny kittens and given them a second chance at life. And, very much like the way Athena had given Chandler a safe haven when she’d discovered she was pregnant with Peregrine.

Peregrine released the kittens onto the floor and grinned up at her. “Did the shapeshifter turn into a gigantic loup-garou?”

“We aren’t even sure he saw a loup-garou,” Chandler said, hoping to put an end to his interest.

He scowled at her answer and turned toward Gar. “Why don’t you change? You’re part wolf.”

“Peregrine,” Chandler said sharply. “It’s not polite to ask personal things.”

Gar brushed off her concern with a flip of his hand. He smiled at Peregrine. “Not everyone with loup-garou blood chooses to change.”

“Why would anyone not want to be a wolf? I’d be a big gray one with yellow eyes.”

“Believe me, there are better ways to unleash your inner beast.” Gar winked at Em. “Right?”

Her cheeks reddened. She hooked a length of mousy brown hair behind one ear and gave him a coy smile. “By other ways, you mean like jogging or playing frisbee? Or poisoned darts?”

Chandler smothered a laugh. Of course, the unleashing Gar was referring to happened in Em’s bed and didn’t involve shifting or the outdoors, at least that she knew of. A week ago, when Gar had arrived to investigate the coven for the High Council, she wouldn’t have believed him capable of joking around, let alone that he’d hook up with an introvert like Em. But in truth, their lives were interconnected in a myriad of ways. They’d met briefly years earlier when Em had first escaped from her abusive aunt and mother. Saille Webster—the ghost of a Northern Circle high priestess—had been influential in Em’s bottoming out and entering recovery. Later, Saille’s spirit had attached herself to Gar in hopes of having him solve her murder, a haunting that Em noticed when he’d arrived to investigate the coven.

Peregrine gaped at Gar. “You have poisoned darts? Can I see ’em?”

“No darts for you, young man,” Chandler said. Then the earlier redcap scare slipped into her mind. Just because Peregrine didn’t have faery sight now, that didn’t mean the ability wouldn’t manifest at some point, making him a target for the fae. Gar had top-notch skills when it came to weapons, skills that would be a nice addition to the martial arts Peregrine was learning from Devlin. “Unless—maybe Gar would be willing to coach you in weapon use and safety?”

Gar grinned. “I’d be happy to. I’m headed back to Council headquarters the day after tomorrow. When I come back, I can bring something appropriate to start with. Maybe a boomerang.”

“Really?” Peregrine turned to her. “Please, Mom. Can I really?”

“You have to do everything Gar says and be very careful.” The thought of Peregrine growing up and the imminent onset of his abilities made her heart heavy. She understood better now why her biological mother had freaked when she’d learned Chandler shared her father’s gift for working with fire. Not only the fear of the possible danger the ability presented, but also the hard inevitability of your little one creeping away from childhood. Still…

Chandler clenched her teeth, anger boiling to the surface as it always did when she thought of her biological mother. Neither fear nor the hard sense of a child growing up made her mother’s withdrawal after the death of Chandler’s father or her eventual suicide any more understandable. Mental illness or not, how could any mother turn her back on her child?

She looked at Peregrine. Her sweetheart. Her little imp. Being cast aside by a parent was one thing he’d never have to worry about. She’d be there for him always, and beyond.

Chloe picked up the open wine bottle from the coffee table and waggled it at Chandler. “You want a glass?”

“Very much, thank you.” After Chloe poured, she took the glass. The wine was deep red and semisweet on her tongue, a heady flavor and soothing relief. “I feel awful about the things we said to Lionel. When I shook his hand, I sensed only kindness.”

“I totally agree,” Chloe said. “Also, I didn’t think about it until he mentioned The Thinker. But when I saw that same performer that night, I did notice he had the energy of a shifter.”

Gar took off his cap and raked a hand over his rumpled black curls. “Did you think he was a loup-garou?”

“All I know is that we need to talk to this guy and make sure his transforming in public was a one-time mistake.”

Em’s quiet voice broke into the conversation. “It’s effing awful that the Circle is responsible for the actions of people who aren’t even members of their coven.”

“Like it or not, it’s the law,” Gar said. “Shapeshifter. Fae. Full demon. Or half-demon cambions, like Merlin’s Shade and his half brother, Magus Dux… It doesn’t matter what kind of being they are, if they pose a threat to the anonymity of the witching world, it’s the local coven’s responsibility to police the situation.”

Em picked up one of the kittens, stroking it. “I get the need for anonymity. Still, it’s not right for a coven or anyone to police other peoples’ or beings’ lives.”

“The law is law. It’s not up for philosophical debate,” Gar said.

“Unless you’re standing in front of the Council, right?” Chandler added.

Gar dipped his head, an admission that she was correct. He cocked an eyebrow. “However, in this case, we may have a third option. If this street performer is indeed a wayward loup-garou, I’ll call my dad and ask him to have his pack come down from Quebec and take care of the situation. The Circle’s had enough problems lately without dealing with this.”

“You can say that again.” Chandler smiled to herself. She’d never have believed a day would come when she’d hope someone would turn out to be a wayward loup-garou, so a bunch of French Canadians could come straighten him out.

Ten minutes later, Chandler stood at the kitchen island putting together a plate of tacos. Midas and Brooklyn had outdone themselves creating the dinner spread. There were bowls of grated cheese, spiced beef and black beans, tomatoes, and lettuce from the coven’s greenhouse, chopped herbs, and ripe olives soaked in wine. All the delicious aromas made her mouth water and she had a hard time choosing what to take. Thank goodness putting together Peregrine’s plate had been straightforward.

With plate in hand, Chandler settled down on a stool between Peregrine and Midas. She was about to take her first bite when the kitchen door swung open and Devlin walked in, returning from seeing Lionel off.

“I’m glad that’s over,” he said. “But I’m afraid it’s not the last we’ll see of Lionel.”

Gar looked up from his spot beside Em at the end of the island. “We should try to track down The Thinker first thing tomorrow. See for ourselves if he’s a loup-garou.”

“I agree,” Chloe said. “Do you think just a couple of us should go? Would too many of us frighten him off?”

Midas set his taco in the middle of his plate. “I can’t go. I’ve got to make some headway on my thesis.”

Chandler viewed Midas as both an exciting new coven member and a mystery. As a person who worked in frayed sweatshirts and welder’s pants and rarely made it past 9:00 a.m. before being covered in grime, she could hardly fathom how Midas managed to always look impeccable. Even the layers of his tacos were as neat as his bead-studded dreadlocks and button-down shirts. Then again, Midas approached everything, including his geomancy, with scientific precision.

“How about if Gar and I go,” Devlin said. “And maybe you too, Chandler. Does that sound good to everyone?”

“I’d like to go,” Chandler said.

As Chloe reiterated where she’d previously seen The Thinker, Chandler got up and fetched an extra napkin for Peregrine. When she returned to her stool, Devlin tapped his knife against his wineglass. “If we can forget about the shapeshifter for a second,” he said, “there’s something else I’d like to discuss while we’re all together. I was going to wait until we finished eating. But, frankly, I can’t keep it to myself any longer.”

“Sounds serious,” Midas said. His attention whipped back to his taco as Brooklyn pinched a ribbon of cheese off the top of it. He playfully swatted her hand. “No stealing.”

She popped the cheese into her mouth. “If you’re not nice, I won’t tell you what Devlin’s talking about.”

Midas frowned. “You know?”

“Uh-huh. I saw it in the cards this morning.” Brooklyn licked her lips, drawing out the suspense. Today, she was dressed in turquois and dark purple. An embroidered talisman bag and shells dangled from her beaded necklace. Of all of the coven members, Brooklyn always looked the most like the mainstream concept of a witch—albeit, a young Haitian version. Chandler liked Brooklyn and trusted her, though she did have lingering mixed feelings about how Brooklyn had continued to support Rhianna even after the rest of them had realized something was horrifically wrong with her. Still, when it came down to it, Brooklyn had turned her back on Rhianna. An act that was admirable and took a lot of courage.

“Want to give us a clue?” Chandler said to her.

Brooklyn smiled smugly. “No. But I know exactly what Devlin has in mind. And I vote yes.”

Chandler rubbed her upper chest, sensing the warmth of her most recent dragon tattoo. “I’m guessing this doesn’t have anything to do with Lionel?”

Devlin lifted his wineglass, toasting her.

Chandler forced a smile, totally confused by the gesture.

Lowering the glass, Devlin continued. “Gar wisely advised us last week to appoint a temporary high priestess. Chloe hoped to fill the position until the situation with the High Council was completely squared away. However, she’s worried about keeping up with her classes.”

“It’ll be a miracle if I pass organic chem,” Chloe said.

Chandler nodded. Actually, she couldn’t see how Chloe kept up at all, let alone achieving the grades she needed to get into medical school.

“At any rate,” Devlin said. “We’ve been talking about who should take Chloe’s place as the coven’s high priestess. I think the choice is obvious.”

As his gaze came her way, Chandler’s breath stalled in her throat. Her? The Northern Circle’s high priestess? She was an adept witch, not a new initiate like Chloe and Em. She’d helped Athena with the day-to-day running of the coven for years. Maybe the choice was obvious, but she’d never considered doing anything other than serving at the right hand of the Circle’s high priestess. “If you’re thinking of me, I’m not the only choice. You need to at least consider Brooklyn.”

Brooklyn held her hands out, like she was fending off the plague. “No way. Without even mentioning how I screwed up with Rhianna, there’s too much garbage that comes with being a high priestess, like dealing with High Council assholes.” She shot a look at Gar. “Sorry, kind of.”

“No insult taken. I pride myself on my asshole ability.” Gar’s expression grew serious. “You want to remember—every coven’s high priest and priestess are automatically eligible to be included on the High Council election ballot. With all the duplicity and political maneuvering currently going on, the possibility of election makes choosing a self-confident and smart high priest and priestess even more vital, and it makes serving more hazardous to those who are chosen.” His voice lightened. “That said, if I were a Northern Circle member, I’d vote for Chandler.”

Midas waved his hand. “I second Chandler’s nomination.”

Chandler could barely think as everyone else raised their hands. She certainly hadn’t seen this coming.

Devlin looked at her steadily. “What do you say, Chandler? I’ve already got absentee votes for you from everyone at the vineyard and from the coven’s other auxiliary members.”

Peregrine gripped her arm. “Do it, Mom. It would be the best thing ever.”

“Ah—” She swallowed hard. Since Devlin had a full-time job as a landscape architect, the high priestess position included managing the complex and overseeing the coven’s businesses. With Brooklyn’s and Em’s help, she could accomplish that as well as her art commissions. Of course, another set of problems could arise if Peregrine did develop the sight and had to be homeschooled.

“You handled the situation with Lionel perfectly,” Devlin said. “I was bordering on trying the same truth-telling technique myself.”

Chandler let her thoughts go deeper. Athena had worked hard to make the coven profitable after her and Devlin’s mother had embezzled from the Circle and run off. But that wasn’t all Athena had done. Athena had seen to it that the coven supported local charities and organizations.

“I can’t think of anyone better.” Em’s voice drifted in the room’s silence. “You’ve supported me, encouraged me to go to AA meetings and driven me to them countless times. You made me feel welcome.”

“You’d be high priestess right away,” Devlin said. “But we could hold off and have the official swearing-in next week on Samhain.”

Sadness swelled in Chandler’s throat. Athena wasn’t coming back, at least not physically. Thanks to Rhianna and the cambion, Magus Dux, Athena was a spirit bound to a diamond that was attached to the key that opened Merlin’s Book of Shadow and Light, a book that had been given to Em by Merlin himself. Athena was now capable of only a fleeting manifestation or a few words. If the book was close by, she could conjoin her magic with the coven, but only briefly.

Chandler looked at them all, one at a time. She wanted more than anything to honor Athena’s memory, to carry on her best friend’s dreams and legacy of charitable works.

“I’ll do it,” she said. It felt terrifying, and beyond right. It felt as if she’d stepped out of a dark forest and into a future she’d been walking toward forever.