Impassion (Mystic) (34 page)

Caitrin whipped his gaze up as Catigern’s eyes widened, and Agro scrutinized both men, searching for holes in their personas. They looked genuinely confused, but Agro had been fooled once and would not let it happen again.

“You lie,” Caitrin whispered. “My grandbaby lived only in my dying daughter’s womb.”

“Yes, yes,” Agro mumbled. “Rhosewen died when she was only five months pregnant. I’ve heard the story before.”

“Then why are you here? To rub salt in the wound?”

Agro knelt, bringing his gaze level with Caitrin’s as he quietly spoke. “I’m here for your granddaughter, the dark-haired beauty with the emerald eyes. Layla is what they call her, but soon I shall call her mine.”

Caitrin’s facade held firm; his curiosity and surprise unflinching. But out of the corner of his eye, Agro saw Catigern’s larynx rise and fall.

Agro smiled at Caitrin. “Either you’re a splendid actor, or your daughter betrayed you in her final days, because your grandchild lives, and I have every reason to believe she’s on the very coast you call home.”

“Someone has been feeding you lies,” Caitrin challenged. “I would know if my grandbaby lived.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Agro returned, straightening from the ground. “You
would
know, as would the patriarch of the Kavanaghs—your trusted coven member and friend. Let him go, Farriss. Let’s see how deep his loyalties run.”

Farriss obeyed, and Agro stepped toward Catigern, relishing in Caitrin’s fear as he raised a palm. Though the two coven members exchanged a meaningful glance, neither of them spoke, so Agro penetrated Catigern’s blood with icy magic.

The old man’s head jerked back as a muffled roar slipped through clenched teeth, and his pale aura flared with a variety of colors. Agro swiftly searched the haze, but didn’t find the bold emerald ribbon he was looking for.

He narrowed his eyes, and the frost seeped into Catigern’s bones. The old man fell to his side and stretched, bellowing a string of profanities into the grass, but his aura still lacked the proof Agro sought.

Agro glanced at Caitrin, who had closed his eyes and tilted his face toward the sky. No doubt praying to the Heavens.
Ava protect me
.
Manu guide me
. Agro had heard them all a million times, but not once had the Heavens intervened.

Agro knelt, directing the freezing magic into Catigern’s flesh as he reached for his head. The patriarch’s skull shield shattered with a nudge, but he somehow kept his thoughts jumbled with nonsense. Agro let the ice magic flow more freely, and it bulged from Catigern’s skin like blue serpents.

Sharpening his concentration, Agro was struck by an image of a dark-haired man—young and robust with eyes to match his hair. The patriarch had a peculiar investment in the young wizard’s love life.

“Useless,” Agro snarled, and the icy serpents burst through Catigern’s skin, coated in coagulating blood.

Catigern’s frantic brain waves waned, and Agro hissed as he pulled his hand away. He studied the old man’s exposed aura, which did in fact contain a ribbon of emerald, but it wasn’t the conclusive proof Agro needed. A scream clawed at his throat, struggling to break loose and wreak havoc, so he blew off steam by backhanding Caitrin.

Caitrin’s head snapped to the side, but he whipped it back around, his moist eyes catching the moonlight as he stared at Catigern’s fading aura. “Let me save him…”

The request melted into a moan as ice gripped his bones, and he doubled over, wrapping stiff arms around his head, but his aura remained colorless.

Agro’s lungs quickened as he grasped for control. Killing the patriarchs could incite an uprising, which would result in the death of them all. Then he’d lose his most promising link to the witch.

He grabbed Caitrin’s hair and pulled him upright, sharpening the ice as he quietly spoke. “Where is your granddaughter?”

The cold eased, and Caitrin gasped for air. “You killed her.”

“Perhaps she hasn’t made it here yet,” Agro surmised, impressed by Caitrin’s resolve. “I suggest you find her, or you’ll miss your chance, because I have soldiers scouring every state in the nation. I like Oregon’s odds, though, so I’ll be back, and next time…” His frosty hex expanded and intensified, convulsing Caitrin’s muscles. “… I’ll be more thorough in my search.”

He released Caitrin’s hair as he dropped his spell. Then he straightened and turned away. “Until next time,” he said, looking toward the sky.

A sea of crimson cloaks encircled him. Then a unified
flap
echoed across the lawn as they shot into the air.

Chapter 24

W
arm and wrapped in velvet,
Layla and Quin flew home hand in hand. Though she’d considered moving to his chest and kissing his neck, flying beside him was exhilarating, and they’d have plenty of time to cuddle later, once they were in her bedroom.

As they neared the community’s boundaries, Quin slowed so they could conceal themselves, but before getting the opportunity, his dad’s panicked voice broke into his head.

‘
Hide, Quinlan! Now!
’

“Shit,” Quin hissed, tugging on Layla’s hand.

She gasped as he spun her into a hug. Then she lost the air when he flipped upright and plunged toward earth.

“Conceal us,” he ordered, dodging rushing limbs.

Their bodies and auras vanished as her frantic breath swept over his jaw. “What’s going on?”

Quin halted an inch from the ground, hovering as he whispered against her lips. “I’m shielding your mind. Don’t speak.” He quickly cast magical barriers around their heads. Then he laid a finger over her lips.

Layla furrowed her eyebrows, wondering what in the hell was going on and how long she’d have to wait before finding out.

Not long.

She heard them before she saw them. It sounded like flags flapping in the wind, but she understood immediately they were cloaks. She looked to the treetops, watching dozens of silhouettes soar by, the billowing edges of their cloaks catching the cloudy moonlight to reveal blood red velvet.

Layla swallowed a lump and fought tears, unable to look away as at least forty Unforgivables passed, each of them further instilling in her the absurd reality of the dangerous situation. She trembled, terrified of what the wicked witches and wizards had done to her coven... her family.

What was actually mere seconds seemed like several minutes in Layla’s frightened mind, so by the time the last two enemies flew by, she was fighting to keep her spells in place while staving off a breakdown. All she could think about was her family. Their faces flashed through her head as she silently repeated her plea over and over again.
Please let them be okay... Please let them be okay...
The longer she had to wait to find out, the more labored her breathing became.

Quin urged her lips to his and laid a hand on her heaving chest, but it was a long moment of distressing silence before he whispered. “You have to calm down, Layla. Slow, deep breaths.”

At his voice, the tears broke loose and she choked on a sob. “Oh god. We have to get back. What if they hurt someone?”

“You need to calm your breathing before we go anywhere.”

“I’m trying,” she gasped. “I can’t.” Horrible images haunted her as tears streamed down her cheeks. They wouldn’t stop, and her lungs were insatiable. “Carry me.”

Quin urged her to his chest and wrapped his cloak around her. “If it gets worse, I’m going to stop, so try to relax and steady your breathing. Keep your concealment spells in place until I tell you otherwise.”

She nodded, nearly inhaling his shirt as she wheezed and nuzzled closer, trying to find the security the position usually provided, but it was difficult when such scary thoughts sped through her head.

Quin slowly approached the treetops, trying not to rustle the limbs as his magic swept them aside. He searched the skies, finding nothing of note, so he leaned back, letting Layla rest on his torso as he flew home.

Now that the immediate danger had passed, his queasy stomach twisted. The beautiful creature in his arms, the angelic woman who sweetened his reason for breathing and made him feel whole, was a hunted witch—the mark of the most dangerous wizard in North America.
Shit
.

Quin reached the air over the lawn and slowed down, mentally searching for signs of danger. Upon finding none, he carefully searched out Layla’s cheek with his palm. “Release your spells.”

She did, and he was able to see the shape of her body beneath his cloak, as well as the terrified aura quivering around it. He stayed afloat, moving the velvet aside. Then he tilted her chin up, finding wide, shiny eyes. He could tell silent pleas played like broken records behind the emerald pools, and he wished he could ease her pain. It was killing him.

He slid her up his chest, bringing her forehead to his lips. Then he headed for earth.

At a glance, the lawn appeared perfect and peaceful, but several coven members were gathered on Catigern’s front porch.

Quin kept Layla in his arms as he walked toward them, trying to discern their auras. When he got close enough to read their colors, his stomach flipped. Bold ribbons of dark chestnut—Catigern’s eye color—swam through well defined rivers of forest green.

Layla looked up, her cheeks growing pale as she scanned the auras. “Oh god,” she squeaked, burying her face in Quin’s neck.

“He’s alive,” Quin assured. “He’ll be okay.” He knew this because the murky green only showed concern. If his great grandpa had been fatally wounded, he’d see more blue than green.

Layla cringed, unable to find solace in his assurance. This was not okay. This was a disaster.

Quin climbed the stairs to Catigern’s porch and entered the house, inciting a chorus of relieved murmurs. Daleen, Morrigan and Cordelia were the loudest among them, and soon Layla felt her grandmothers stroking her head and back.

Layla breathed deep, trying to pull herself together. If Catigern was hurt, Quin would want to see him. She wiped her face clean. Then she left Quin’s neck and followed his shiny gaze across the room.

Unconscious but alive, Catigern was sprawled out on the sofa. Zenith, his loyal hawk, perched on his shoulder, stone still as she stared at his face, and several coven members sat at his side, touching his limp body. He looked feeble and ashen, and it stung Layla to see him that way. All the men in her coven were the epitome of strength, backbones that braced everyone around them, but Catigern’s sluggish aura exposed his fragile state. She quickly looked away as she wiggled out of Quin’s arms and pushed him toward the couch.

Caitrin pulled Layla close, wrapping her in a hug as a relieved sigh deflated his chest. “You’re okay,” he breathed. Then he kissed her curls and repeated himself.

Serafin moved closer, taking his turn to touch Layla and make sure she wasn’t harmed, but she wished he would stop.
She
wasn’t the victim. Catigern was.

“What happened?” Quin asked, taking a spot beside the couch.

Layla’s grandparents turned toward the wounded, but she couldn’t find the strength to look, so she kept her back to everyone.

“Agro got overzealous with his interrogation techniques,” Caitrin answered.

“Did he get the information he wanted?” Quin asked.

Layla struggled to withhold a groan.
Who cares? Who cares if he got information on me? He tortured Catigern until he knocked him out.

“No,” Caitrin assured. “Cat did well. He lost consciousness before breaking. Agro was displeased by the lack of answers.”

“What about you?” Quin asked.

“I got a taste of his medicine,” Caitrin replied, “but he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice, so he didn’t put much effort into it.”

“So he doesn’t know Layla’s here?”

“He’s suspects, but he lacks proof and worries she hasn’t found us yet, so he’s trying to be patient.”

After a moment of silence, Quin spoke again, his tone sadder than Layla had ever heard it. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Serafin assured. “We’ve healed the outside, but the inside will take more time. We’ll make sure he remains sedated until we get the worst of it.”

“Ice?” Quin asked.

“Yes,” Caitrin confirmed. “Agro’s favorite brand.”

Layla had heard too much. She could feel her blood freezing. She knew what Agro’s icy torture entailed, and the thought of it being served to Caitrin and Catigern gagged her. Her body vibrated with guilt and anger and sadness and old memories and new nightmares and unbelievable fear for her family. The walls were closing in on her. She had to get out of there.

The door flew open as she walked toward it, but it immediately slammed shut. Everyone jumped and looked at Layla, who furrowed her eyebrows at the door then turned toward Quin. The sight of him holding his hand over Catigern’s heart ripped her own, and her stomach churned.

Quin wasn’t looking at his great grandpa, though. He was watching her.

She quickly averted her gaze and headed for the door, swinging it open with a wave of her hand, but Quin slammed it shut again.

She spun around and scowled. ‘
Don’t cause a scene,
’ she mentally demanded.
‘
Let me leave
.’

‘
No
.
I’ll come with you. Just give me a minute. Please.
’

He asked too much. Layla understood his need to be with Catigern, but she couldn’t stick around and watch. She turned toward the door, using every ounce of magic she could muster to open it and keep it that way.

She felt the tug of Quin’s magic. Then she heard him curse when his spell failed. A second later she was on the porch, gulping in the night air as she bent at the knees and shot toward the sky.

“Layla,” Morrigan cried, rushing after her.

But Caitrin grabbed her waist and threw a pointed look at Quin. “Don’t let her leave the community.”

“Keep me updated,” Quin returned, heading for the door.

He stepped outside and looked around, not really expecting to see her. Then he flew over the houses and searched for her mind. He made a connection, but it was a jumbled mess, and he couldn’t communicate or locate.

He mind searched the community guards, instantly finding Kearny. ‘
Have you seen Layla
?’

‘
No,
’ Kearny replied.

Quin squeezed his eyes shut and searched for another, finding his uncle Belinos. ‘
Have you seen Layla
?’

‘
I’m looking at her now,
’ Belinos answered.
‘
She just arrived at her parents’ memorial. I’ll stay until you get here
.’

Quin sighed and soared toward Aedan and Rhosewen’s memorial. As soon as Belinos saw him, he drifted away to continue his patrol, and Quin lowered himself into the trees surrounding the small clearing. The scene he observed upon stepping from the timber was a sad one, and his chest tightened around an achy heart.

Layla sat amongst hundreds of emerald green roses, and her forehead and palms were pressed to the epitaph etched into the boulder. She quietly sobbed as unhampered tears fell to the stone, and her quivering aura openly expressed every tortuous emotion plaguing her.

Quin raised a hand to his heart, wishing he could help bear her troubles. She loved so much, the pain consumed her, drowning her soul as surely as her tears drowned the stone. He ran his fingers to his tight throat, imagining how sore her throat must be. Then he quietly lowered himself to the ground to wait her out. He wouldn’t disturb her moment with her parents, but he’d go to her as soon as she left the boulder.