Married (29 page)

“Magic Matches,” Madeleine murmured.

Margaret blinked. “How could she have a Match?”

“It’s complicated.”

Margaret looked away from her sister to meet Georgie’s eyes. “Perhaps you are seeing the magic of the germ and the grain.”

“It’s red and black. Where’s the silver?” Georgie traced another line, “I don’t see how it could have anything to do with the grain without a showing of Grandmother’s personal magic.”

“Madeleine has silver magic,” Ileana confirmed. “Graves has red. Who has black?”

“It doesn’t feel like Graves’ magic, though. Or not only his.” Georgie glanced at her future sister-in-law. “Every witch’s magic feels different because every witch is a unique individual.”

“This makes no sense,” Margaret whispered. “It’s clearly directed toward Madeleine, so it has to be the grain and the germ. That’s the only magic that would be involved in the effigy.”

“Maybe the curse turns the grain’s magic black.” Silviu’s shrug shifted Georgie as he moved. “Judging by your expression, Margaret, it isn’t common for effigy talents to see the magic of the germ and grain, so we have no way of knowing.”

“Then how can you see it now?”

“Georgie’s Bane. She’s special, no matter what other witches want to believe. Maybe this is her form of a talent.”

As if on cue, the last two cords snapped and died, freeing the doll from its bondage. The effigy trembled in Georgie’s palm, sending a panicked wave of fear crashing over her head. She went rigid as immense pressure drilled into her palm. Silviu grunted in her ear.

Margaret made a small noise and stumbled back, her hand rising to her chest as her face lost color. “What was that?” she demanded. “It hurt me.”

“Yes,” Silviu hissed. “You were apparently in the blast zone.”

Georgie looked around. She supposed she wasn’t magical enough to experience pain. “Is everyone all right?”

“Yes,” Madeleine answered. “Now what?”

Georgie opened her hand and stepped away from Silviu’s heat, showing her grandmother the little doll. It had split down the center—destroyed—the hair on the wax head detached and tangled around Georgie’s knuckles.

Georgie closed her fingers around the scrap of fabric peeking from the doll’s belly and pulled it out for everyone to see. They all stared mutely, letting truth sink in.

The door opened, Adam and Tulah stepped through. “Here she is,” he said. “What did I miss?”

“This.” Georgie waved the bloodstained, lime green cloth in front of his face.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Silviu

“No one but Graves would wear that,” Tulah said.

Silviu watched her closely, unsurprised that Adam hovered at her side. He’d seen
that
coming the first moment the other man had laid eyes on the Ngozi woman. “The bellhops wear lime green uniforms.”

She shook her head. “This is silk. Graves is the only Ngozi in England allowed to wear silk.”

“Are you serious?” Georgie rolled her eyes. “Regardless, it doesn’t feel like just him. He’s got to be working with someone.”

Profound pride rolled through Silviu at the way Georgie had ripped the magic of the effigy all to hell. Later, he knew he’d think about that, take it out and run the thought through his mind and wonder what other magic her Bane talent could snuff out. It wouldn’t be a pleasant investigation, already raising doubts, fears and suspicions he’d rather not live with, but they needed to know. Because it would also raise the stakes on her life once Madeleine was gone.

Witches would be demanding her head if they knew she could destroy magic with a touch of her finger.

But for now, pride had its way with him. Silviu had held her close and had the pleasure of working with her to solve a problem. Another link in the chains slowly binding them together.

“Tulah”—Silviu settled his hip against a table and crossed his arms—“last night you said Graves killed your father.”

“Yes.” She stole a glance at Adam’s face as he put a hand on her shoulder.

Silviu sighed. “You also said Graves sucked out your father’s magic, stealing it for his own use.”

“Charles held him down while Graves took it.”

“Please tell us what happened. It could be very important.”

Her cheeks paled. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the faces focused on her. Silviu watched as Tulah leaned closer to Adam, who began to rub small circles on her back.

She took a deep breath. “The thing is, I’m alive right now because I haven’t spoken about what happened. Last night, I said things that should never have been said. There’s nothing more to say now.”

Silviu could feel his expression harden with anger, but it was Adam who spoke. “You said you were happy to stand up for yourself, that it felt great. Tulah, just tell us what happened.”

“I can’t.” She looked up at him, the plea easily read in her eyes.

“I’ll protect you,” Adam vowed. “I swear it.”

Georgie, Christiana and Madeleine jerked dramatically. The women who knew Adam best had a reaction more exaggerated than Silviu would have expected. He leaned in to breathe his question into Georgie’s ear.

“If Adam promises something,” her words were barely audible, “he will move heaven and earth to fulfill that promise.”

Silviu looked back at the two witches, noted their closeness, the connection they couldn’t hide. Obviously Tulah had been in Adam’s bed but, again, Silviu wasn’t surprised. He was intrigued by the look in Adam’s eyes, however—Silviu was used to seeing lazy calculation, not sharp earnestness.

“Tell us what happened,” Silviu repeated, wrapping the weighted manipulation of his magic into his words, “and we’ll all see to your protection. This issue is extremely important to us.”

Ileana laid a hand on Tulah’s shoulder and lent her influential ability to the cause. “It’s all right. You can tell us.”

Tulah didn’t take her eyes off Adam. “Graves came to England before I was born, so I’ve never known a life without him looming somewhere in the periphery. When I was a teenager, he decided he wanted to lead the secondary branch of the Family. This branch.”

Silviu had heard it from Muso already. “Your father, Joseph Ngozi, was in the way.”

“Yes.” Tulah continued to stare into Adam’s eyes, but her hand petted his knee. Silviu thought she was comforting herself. “Graves was sent here by his dying grandfather because he’d tried to challenge Muso. The old man refused to allow his grandsons to fight and sent Graves away.”

Silviu took up the tale when she paused. “But Muso and Graves’ middle brother had already come and the power had been promised to
his
son, Joseph, by the former leader who had no children of his own.”

“Graves was angry, always making trouble, but Richard wouldn’t budge. My father would be his heir and there was nothing Graves could do about it.” Tulah dropped her eyes to watch the twirl of her fingers over Adam’s leg. “Except there was.”

“Did he, by any chance,” drawled Georgie, “learn dark magic?”

“Yes. He bided his time until my father took over the branch. Then he kept trying to challenge, until my father called Muso in to put a stop to Graves’ actions.”

“If he’d been successful in keeping Graves from taking his position,” Georgie asked, “then why call Muso in at all?”

Madeleine answered in a reed-thin voice. “Graves was either using Tulah or her mother against Joseph, wasn’t he, child?”

Tulah’s face paled further, her chest heaved, but she nodded. She pointed to the scrap of fabric on the low table between the chairs. “I know the blood on that silk is Graves’ because I’ve smelled his blood before. My mother was born a Shimizu. We’re kitsune.”

Triumph screamed through Silviu’s head in spite of the tension infusing the room. The odd patterns of her magic were explained—all that shape-changing energy coiling tight. One half of Silviu’s brain immediately began plotting the best way to use Tulah’s talents for future gain, and after glancing at Georgie he knew she was doing the same.

“It was a secret my father guarded very closely,” Tulah continued. “My grandfather was banished from his Family and he came here with his new wife before they had my mother. When my mum was a teenager, my grandfather learned he was dying and immediately betrothed her to my father. He made him swear to keep the secret safe.”

“He was right to hide it,” Silviu said. “Who knows what Graves would do with that information.”

“My father was afraid Graves would figure it out because I had trouble controlling my magic when I was young.”

“So Muso came to settle the issue, but then his son committed suicide and he returned to Africa.”

The guileless eyes Tulah turned on Silviu had no way to hide her confusion. “Jerin didn’t commit suicide. Muso killed him.”

Ice locked around Silviu’s spine, forcing his body erect. He pulled away from the table and took a step forward before he caught himself. Georgie grabbed his arm and he managed to refrain from storming over to the other woman and shaking the explanation from her mouth. Adam got to his feet, partially shielding Tulah with his body.

Silviu forced the words from his tight throat. “Muso told me his son committed suicide after Graves molested him.”

“That’s the one crime Graves would never commit.” Tulah slowly rose off the sofa to press against Adam’s back, wrapping her skinny arms around his waist. “Muso killed Jerin so Graves could have the power to take his dark magic to the next level.”

“He killed his own son?” Silviu clutched at Georgie’s hand.

Tulah peered at him from beyond Adam’s shoulder. “Muso’s stepson is also his grandson, which is why he married the woman he married. Muso is raising the boy to be exactly what he wants, which is about as different from Jerin as any Ngozi could be.”

“Jerin was young when he died.”

“But still old enough to father a child,” Tulah whispered. “The boy should be thirteen now.”

Silviu looked down at Georgie, silently willing her to continue questioning Tulah while he took a moment to tame the beast clawing in his chest. A wild thing made of anger at himself for believing Muso’s lies and shock that the Ngozi Father had resisted telling the truth under Silviu’s magical influence.

Georgie accurately read the look in his eyes. “Tell us about Jerin, Tulah.”

“He was a lot like my father and grandfather, nothing like Muso and Graves.”

Georgie nodded. “Why would Muso kill Jerin?”

“Graves told Muso he could give him more power with the sacrifice, but then Graves took it for himself and Muso was afraid that Graves would kill him, too. They fought, and it came very close. Muso left.”

“Why bother ruling the secondary branch when you could rule the whole Family.” Silviu found his voice, though it cut his throat like shattered glass. “Why hasn’t Graves killed Muso then?”

Tulah exhaled audibly. “Jerin’s magic was strong enough to give Graves the advantage when he ripped my father’s magic from his dying body while Charles held him down, but not enough to equal Muso’s. I don’t know if Graves can take the power of the Family Father, and I don’t think Graves knows either.”

Adam scowled. “But with stolen power from both witches combined—”

Silviu worked his jaw. “Or Muso and Graves are working together on a plot to weaken, and possibly kill, Mother Davenold.”

“I don’t know about that,” Georgie murmured.

“Graves learned how to steal a leader’s power.” Silviu met Georgie’s eyes. “That makes him doubly dangerous.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“Dark magic is tricky,” Madeleine whispered. “It’s volatile, completely unstable. If anything goes wrong, it will rebound on Graves, and perhaps he’s not ready to commit to such a risk against his Father.”

“If you’re right,” Silviu growled in frustration, “then Muso is pushing the timeline. Just by showing up here, he’s threatening Graves.”

“I was hoping he would help me get away from Graves. My mother and I had hoped that with the conflict between them…” Tulah shook her head. “But he’s barely said a word to me except that I will be given to Charles, when this is all said and done. Otherwise, he doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.”

“Because he already knows.” Silviu stepped away from Georgie and drove his fingers through his hair. “My God, I can’t believe it. He told me a pack of lies and I fell for it. I was too damned emotional to think things through.”

“Silver—” Georgie stepped forward, reaching for him.

He stepped back, disgusted at himself and second-guessing everything he’d said or done since arriving in England. Rarely did he have cause to doubt himself and he didn’t like the feeling. “No, Georgeanne, I was so consumed by what Graves was doing to you that I let my emotions lead me, rather than assessing the situation rationally.”

“What did Muso tell you?” she asked. “Maybe we can still work this to our advantage.”

“He said he let Graves keep power because he knew him, knew his weaknesses.”

“That’s true,” Tulah said. “Muso knows how Graves thinks, but he lets Graves keep the secondary branch because it’s easier than killing him and also imposes certain limits. But the third branch holds more status than us now, and only Graves’ personal magic gives this branch any kind of authority.”

“I offered to help Muso,” Silviu admitted. “I could have started a war between the Lovaszes and the Ngozis.”

Georgie shrugged, unconcerned. “That’s an easy fix, Silver. Don’t help Muso and don’t kill Graves.”

“There must be consequences for the offense of using an effigy against Madeleine.”

“That responsibility is mine.” Mother Davenold lifted her chin. “I will confront Graves before performing the Sovereign Bestowal.”

Silviu forced himself to slow down, to think. He glanced at Madeleine’s pale face and saw the battle she waged against her exhaustion. He glanced at the clock—they still had several hours until the wedding.

Georgie followed his eyes and read his mind. “Whatever they’re going to do will happen during the wedding ceremony.”

“Yes. Here’s what
we’re
going to do.” He pointed at Tulah. “You and Georgie are going to watch over Madeleine while she rests, safe and sound, here in her suite.”