Mystical Love (50 page)

“Dammit! Don't look so unhappy or I shall have to make love to you right here in the middle of the street.” His words had Brianna stiffening, and his laughter bubbled up and out. “There now, that's the prickly woman I know. Hankering to claw my eyes out, eh?” To her surprise, Brianna laughed at his jibe. Grinning, he pulled her past him, and then pushed her towards the driveway only a hundred yards ahead of them. “Get a move on, Snow White,” he stated.

She went, but not before giving him one of her haughtiest sniffs.

“If you don't stop calling me those ridiculous fairy tale names, I shall stir the Earth Dragons awake, and let them do their worst to you.” A deep chuckle greeted her, but Brianna chose to ignore it. Now was not the time to trade insults; they had to get to the clinic and monitor her Mother's health.

Reaching the outskirts of the cottage several minutes later, the pair wound around a massive cat-claw tree and stepped onto the stone walkway next to the driveway. Passing the standing Jeep, Devlin slowed his steps.

“Uh-oh. Looks like trouble.”

Brianna followed his gaze, giving a mumbled curse when she caught sight of Francis' tall figure loitering on the porch.

“Damn. Just what I need. Another scolding from Francis.”

Devlin patted her arm.

“Play nice now, Goldilocks, or he might stir the Earth Dragons to do their worst on
you
.”

Brianna's heart skittered at the thought. Francis was certainly capable of stirring an elemental, but by the stern look on his face, he had something more pronounced in mind—like stirring her anger. She heard a wizened grunt as Devlin laced his fingers with hers and stepped onto the walkway.

“He can't possibly object to my being pushy—now that I'm your husband.”

Brianna studied their meshed fingers.

“I suppose I shall have to say polite things about you if he asks.”

“It's a requirement. Do you need a list of my good qualities?” he teased.

“Not a list, just one,” she stated.

He grinned boyishly at her.

“Tell him I'm great in bed.”

“You're not that great.”

He laughed outright.

“Liar.” Brianna opened her mouth to call him a horse's ass, but he forestalled her by placing his finger over her mouth. “Ah-ah, be a good girl and mind your manners. Francis is watching.” He dropped his fingers, greeting Francis as they reached the porch steps. ”Good morning, Francis,” he said, “You're up early. No morning vespers on the schedule?” He hopped the steps, forcing Francis to take a step back. Brianna saw Francis's smirk.

“So, it's true. Brianna has invoked her rights as High Priestess and you've married?”

“Word travels fast,” Brianna said, with a sigh.

“Not as fast as my bladder . . . you'll excuse me.” Devlin flicked open the door and leaving the pair staring at the closing door, and then each other. Brianna was the first to move. She stepped to her left, onto a stone path that led to the side of the cottage. In seconds, she was entering a beautifully landscaped meditation garden. The overpowering peace and quiet of the garden calmed her rattled nerves at once. Spirit Falls, she mused. Were there any spirits languishing about today?

She heard the sound of water trickling over rocks, and headed for it. Seconds later, she was plopping down on a stone bench, wondering if it was wrong to think of using her heritage against Francis. Spirit wouldn't like it. And what spirit didn't like, it took care of.
You should've never come home,
her inner voice nudged. She straightened her spine. I had to come; the Ancients decreed it.
And now?
her alter-ego prodded. I need to prove that we were sent here for a much larger reason.

Footsteps sounded, and Brianna quickly shored up her courage. She mustn't let Francis goad her into losing her temper. He would try; he always tried. Plastering a smile on her face, she studied Francis' slumped shoulders and then, out of the blue, she sensed he needed a friend. Could she be that friend for once in her life? It would be hard, since their relationship had always consisted of slammed doors and sarcastic name-calling. Still, she had to attempt to heal the rift that had grown between them.

Striking a casual pose, she waited for Francis to take a seat on an adjacent bench. Craning his head, he gave her his undivided attention. She lost no time in getting right to the point with him.

“I assure you, Francis, it was never my intention to invoke my rights when I came—or marry Devlin.”

Surprised by her words, his demeanor changed.

“There's still time to change your mind. You can recant the invocation and appoint another in your place.”

Brianna's breath caught in her lungs.

“And who do you suggest I choose?” she asked. “You?”

“I
am
the most capable,” he answered.

Brianna gave a brief laugh. Francis had changed. In the old days, he would've never had the courage to brag about his character in such a brazen manner.

“I'm sorry, Francis. You will just have to wait your turn. I have no intention of recanting the oath I took—at least, not at this time. Mother's going to be well enough to resume her position as High Priestess when this crisis is over. And when she is, I'll do the right thing and sign whatever papers are needed to restore harmony to the community.”

His body shot to attention.

“You must recant now—before the power has shifted so far, it can't be reversed.”

Brianna laughed.

“I appreciate your concern, Francis, but until Mother is well, and the sinner who harmed her is found, I must hold true to the invocation.”

“Another mockery to add to your growing list,” he replied, with a grimace.

“Mockery? I've done everything by the book. Rufus made note of the time and date of the Invocation.”

“And you think that makes it right?” Francis muttered. His expression turned to dismay. “At least you didn't have time to indulge in The Joining ritual. If you had, the congregation would be
forced
to accept you as their High Priestess.”

A warm flush stole into Brianna's cheeks. Now why had he brought up the Joining? It wasn't a subject for public discussion.
He'd want to know—if he's the sinner,
her inner voice advised. Brianna bit her lip. Yes, quizzing her would be a must—if he was the sinner. He seemed not to notice her reddened cheeks as he continued his thoughts.

“I'm sure when we study the Coven Book of Shadows, we will find that you are not eligible to hold the office—thanks to your careless handling of Sacred Circles.”

Brianna tossed her head. Here it was. Condemnation for Brenda's death. She should tell Francis to go to hell, but what purpose would it serve? It would brand her worse than the sinner they were looking for. She looked up through the sun-shot tree branches.

“Have you been sent to warn me that might happen, Francis?”

“No, of course not. That would make me somebody's puppet. Do I look like I'm being controlled by anyone here?”

Brianna started at the question.

“You've always gone your own way, Francis. No one will ever control what you say or do. I know because I tried hard enough to control you when we were kids and I couldn't do it.”

He frowned at the criticism.

“No one is immune from the power of spirit, Brianna—not me, not you—which is why I'm unsure of your motives for returning home—given all that's happened. And now that you've invoked your rights, there is plenty of reason to worry.”

Brianna's gaze impaled Francis.

“If you want a motive, Francis, ask the former High Priest of this coven for it. He called me with the news of Mother's collapse.”

“Your father was ill, his mind clouded. Plus, he made the call without consulting the Council first.”

“His mind wasn't clouded at all. He's read the Coven Book of Shadows. He knows who succeeds whom in a time of crisis.”

Francis' face remained mulish, and Brianna wished she had the ability to read his mind. Though he was being upfront with her, she had the feeling that he was also holding something back.

“Why did you have to bring Devlin into this?”

“I didn't. I had no idea he was coming until we met in the airport. Papa called him.”

“And you say your father's mind isn't clouded? He brought an outsider into what is clearly a coven matter.”

“He's paid his dues, Francis. I think you can cut him a little slack.”

“He got off scot-free, you mean. And now there's a rumor that you allowed him, as well as another outsider, to witness a healing ritual designated for a hereditary witch's eyes only. Why would you do such a thing? This friend of yours might divulge the ritual when he leaves here.”

“Tommy won't divulge a thing. And as for Devlin, he can't. His marriage to me prevents him from doing so.”

“Another mockery to add to the Book of Shadows.”

“This crisis called for drastic measures in the clearing. I needed a back-up witch in case the pyramid didn't work. As my husband, Devlin was the logical choice.”

“I would've cleansed the circle, if you had only asked.”

“I couldn't take the chance. Though you have shown no symptoms of the illness so far, I couldn't be sure that the energy wasn't lying dormant in your system. And as for Devlin revealing what he saw, he's a grown man, and I can't control what he says or does.”

“As High Priestess, you must
order
him to stay silent.”

Brianna shifted on the bench, this time unable to hide her annoyance.

“Be careful, Francis. You're starting to tell me what to do—just like you did when we were kids. You know how I reacted then. I cast a perfectly nasty spell on you.” He looked startled by her admission, and Brianna wished she could pinpoint why she was being so ugly towards him. It no longer mattered what had been said between them fifteen years ago. What mattered now was that they should treat each other civilly. Her expression softened.

“I promise you, I will find out who is behind this nightmare, Francis.”

“And Devlin?”

“He feels the same,” Brianna stated, rubbing her thigh. “Please don't condemn him for marrying me. I forced him into it, and out of love for Mother, he agreed.”

“And he got what he's always wanted because of it: you.”

Brianna flushed at the insinuation, but she recovered quickly.

“If you want to know if Devlin and I have had sex, why don't you just ask? No, wait, don't bother, I'll tell you. Devlin invoked the Joining last night, and it was marvelous—from start to finish.” He flushed at her words, and Brianna felt compelled to take another dig. “You're free to report back to the Council that Devlin and I have consummated our marriage. And while you're talking to them, please let them know I intend to evoke The Weaving after lunch.”

His face registered shock.

“You intend to interrogate the congregation?”

“As soon as possible; that is, if the Council doesn't throw up an objection.”

“Of course we'll object. There's been no discussion, no logical reason for such action.”

“Well, you've had my warning. It's all in the hands of spirit now.”

“You're speaking for Devlin, too?”

“Absolutely. As High Priest, he wants what I want.”

“Then you won't mind if I ask him to tell me that himself?”

“Of course, I mind. He's been put through enough since he's arrived. He's been saddled with a wife he doesn't want, and browbeaten by the Elders for caring what happens to this community.” She saw his frown. “Don't worry, Francis. Neither of us intends to make a permanent place for ourselves here in the Coven. Our hypocrisy only goes so far.” Her tone hardened. “The cleansing has made it clear that Mother was attacked and left to die in the circle on purpose. The sinner must be found and brought before the Council for sanctioning.”

Her words brought an instant reaction from Francis, who sprang to his feet and took a defensive stance over her.

“Calling up a Weaving at this point is spiritual suicide. I won't let you do it.”

“
You
won't? Brianna replied, leaning back from his towering frame. “Be careful, Francis. That threat puts you at the top of the list as the possible sinner.”

He took a quick step back, a look of pure horror staining his face.

“You think that I could hurt your mother?” He took a step towards Brianna again, his fists clenching. “A sin against her is a sin against the Ancients,” he declared. “To imply that I would ever betray her, or this commune, proves just how unfit you are to govern us. The Council will find the sinner in their own way—without your help.”

“I see you still can't tell when you've lost an argument against Brianna, Francis,” Devlin stated, startling the pair with his quiet arrival. He handed Brianna a cup of coffee, and quickly slid on the bench beside her. Brianna took a noisy slurp. The caffeine rush was delicious, a perfect antidote to Francis's accusations.
And so is the sinewy body sitting next to you,
her inner voice commented.
He smells delicious, looks delicious, and probably even tastes . . .
Briana stifled the voice. Keep your mind off his muscled thighs.
Right. Concentrate on getting answers, and then think about his muscled thighs.

Frowning at her sarcastic mind rambling, Brianna studied the stand-off between the two men as Francis resumed his seat and assumed his former mask of judge and jury. Turning to the tote bag Devlin was setting next to her, Brianna peeked inside. A moment later, she withdrew a nutrition bar, juggling it and the coffee cup she held in her hand. Seeing the balancing act, Devlin took the bar from her fingers and tore the wrapper off, handing it back to her. She nodded her thanks, and breaking the silence, picked up the threads of her conversation, ignoring the fact that she was talking with her mouth full.