Mystical Love (53 page)

Devlin's gaze shot to Eileen. Now here was a piece of information to be stuffed in the “suspect” category. Along with Eileen, Sally had the power to emcee a Sacred Circle.

Devlin heard a fractured wheeze.

“Francis can emcee rings around Sally. I don't know why you've chosen to insult Francis instead of supporting him. And why aren't you offering me sympathy?” she stressed, her voice beginning to crack. “Sienna was my dearest friend, and I'm unable to leave this room to offer any kind of consolation to Charles.” She sought a tissue from a Kleenex box and wiped her eyes. “Oh, I wish Rufus was here.” The bed under Devlin's rump jiggled, and he saw Eileen's rash movement to leave her bed. Devlin signaled her back. Hopping from the bed again, he flung an arm around Margaret's sagging shoulders.

“Rely on your faith to get you through this, Margaret.”

“I suppose you think I'm a foolish old woman for crying instead of daring to leave this room,” she remarked. “I suppose nothing ever rattles you.”

Devlin's smile was tired as he squeezed her shoulders.

“You're mistaken. Sienna's collapse has knocked me for a loop.”

Eileen tapped the bed frame with her fingers again.

“I don't mean to nag, Devlin. But the Council will need proof that the cleansing was successful. An entry must be logged in the Coven Book of Shadows, and the Council must give their blessing on its use.”

“The ritual is out of the box and not for public noting.” Devlin stated.

“She must give up the ritual—no matter how secret. It is the law.” Margaret huffed.

“As Interim High Priest of this coven, I won't allow her to reveal the spell until we have brought this master of dark magic to trial.”

“You have no say in this matter,” Margaret muttered. “You gave up that right when you killed Brenda Carver.”

“Margaret!”

Devlin didn't let Eileen smooth the way this time.

“I may have given up all rights to the Wicca faith when I left,” Devlin argued. “But my marriage to Brianna keeps me safe now. You can't toss either of us out.”

“Well, of all the nerve!”

The door handle rattled, startling the trio from their conversation.

“What now?” Eileen asked, seeing Tommy's rotund figure lounging on the doorframe of the open door. “Good heavens, Devlin, how many outsiders have you and Brianna brought with you?”

“Only one,” Devlin replied. “This is Brianna's attorney and business partner, Tommy Cloisters. Tommy, this is Eileen O'Connor, Second Elder of the Council. And this feisty lady in the other bed is Margaret Lord.”

A grin crossed Tommy's face as he moved forward with an outstretched hand.

“Good to meet you, Miss O'Connor. I hope you are feeling better. You too, Mrs. Lord,” he stated, swinging his gaze to the far bed.

A rare frown crossed Eileen's forehead as she dropped Tommy's hand.

“Why has Brianna brought an attorney with her? Is she intending to make allegations against us for Sienna's collapse?”

Devlin heard a light cluck from Tommy.

“I'm not here in any kind of legal capacity, Miss O'Connor. I'm Brianna's friend, besides her attorney.” His gaze bounced to Devlin. “I don't mean to cut your visit short,” he stated. “But the doctor is looking for you.”

Devlin hopped from the bed and circled the rails. He gave a small wave to the women, which prompted another husky plea from Eileen.

“Please convince Brianna to come to the vespers this evening, Devlin—as a sign of good faith. It will prove that neither of you has an ulterior motive for being here.”

Devlin's right eyebrow rose in surprise and, though Eileen blushed, she snuggled deeper under the covers and dismissed Devlin. “That didn't come out right. I'm sure you've atoned for your sins in many ways since leaving us.”

Amused by her accentuated coughs, Devlin hid a smile and headed for the door.

“I'll have Brianna stop in to visit—as a sign of her good faith in atoning for my sins.”

“Don't be gnarly,” Eileen stated. “And by the way, congratulations on your marriage.”

Sketching a wave over his shoulder, Devlin exited the room with Tommy on his heels. Once in the hallway, he shook off the room's negative energy. It wouldn't do to have his aura saturated with streaks of grey shadows, like those surrounding the women's frames. He felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned his head.

“What was that all about?”

Devlin lowered his voice.

“Things have gotten dicey since we left you.”

“Good God, what now?”

“Brianna is hell-bent on evoking an ancient ritual called The Weaving.”

“The what?”

“A formal hearing,” Devlin answered. “Like a town hall meeting—only it's really a polite interrogation of the entire congregation.”

He saw Tommy's nod.

“Should I be prepared for fire to rain down on both your heads?”

Devlin wagged his fingers at Tommy.

“It can rain on my head, but I'm not about to let the firestorm hit Brianna.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Tommy chided, following Devlin down the hall. Reaching the end of the corridor, Devlin paused and took a deep breath before rounding the doorframe. His back ached, and his muscles screamed, and he had increasingly uneasy feeling that something sinister was stalking him.

Studying the comatose woman in the bed, Devlin realized he didn't need to protect Brianna from anything. Since the marriage, he could feel her aura, no matter where she was. If someone wanted to harm her, he'd sense it long before she did. It was clear their marriage had fused them together somehow, like rain and springtime.
Like satin sheets and naked bodies,
his inner voice added. Like mind-blowing sex and roaming hands, he shot back. Now, if he could just find a way to convince Brianna that the Sisters of Fate wanted her to give herself to him, totally and unconditionally.

He surveyed the room, relieved to see the doctor hadn't allowed the room to take on the feel of a funeral. No candles were lit, no flowers of bereavement were displayed, and the New Age music playing through the speakers had a peaceful quality to it. However, he still felt a flicker of something not quite right in the room.

Brushing the nape of his neck, he realized they should've followed Sienna directly from the clearing to the clinic, pressuring Brad into formulating a healing plan for her. Hell, they needed a healing plan for the entire community. A light touch on his sleeve had Devlin spinning on his heels with a ferocious curse.

“Dammit, Tommy! I forgot you were following me.”

“Sorry. I thought all you warlocks had second sight.” A cheeky grin surfaced as he stopped alongside Devlin and studied the heart monitors.

“You've been watching too many horror films,” Devlin told him. “In Wicca life, a witch is a witch—male or female. There's no distinction.”

Tommy emitted a half-grunt.

“May I ask what you're looking for? Do you suspect that some negative residue has followed Mrs. Sage into her coma?”

“No, she assigned the Guardians to prevent that. However, she's beyond healing washes and herbal medicines. You have only to look at her to see that:”

Tommy dipped his head.

”It's too bad you can't tap into her thoughts. If you could, you'd know who is behind this tragedy.”

“And we wouldn't have to wait on the Weaving. The interviews are going to take a full day and a half.”

“Does Mrs. Sage have days?”

“Yesterday I would've said no, but today it's clear that her essence is so powerful that not even five days of obvious suffering could end her life.”

“It sounds like you're saying she holds the power of God in her hands,” Tommy scoffed.

“She holds the power of the earth in her heart, and that makes her extraordinary. Spirit, or whatever you want to call the Creator, has seen fit to bless her with the good side of the power of three.”

Devlin's gaze re-scanned Sienna's serene features. What other task had Sienna assigned the Guardians to do? A frown skirted his lips. That secret would probably never be unearthed. Reaching out, he seized her wrist, detecting a faint thrumming beneath his fingers. Her essence appeared to have split in two, leaving her susceptible to permanent physical damage.

“Something's wrong. You're scowling,” Tommy stated, studying the woman in the bed. “I refuse to believe things are as hopeless as everyone says.”

“So do I,” a deep voice stated from behind the pair.

Devlin and Tommy whirled in unison, startled to find the doctor joining them at the bed. They watched his contemplation of her tranquil features.

“Sienna's essence has been thoroughly damaged, though I can't pinpoint whether it was damaged five days ago, or five hours ago.” He shooed the pair back, and Devlin realized he was a man suffering from a torn conscience. If the damage had occurred five days ago, then the blame centered in the commune. If five hours ago? He didn't intend to speculate on that.

Giving way to the doctor's second wave, Devlin moved from the bed to find Brianna hovering in the doorway. Her meeting with her father had ended badly. She looked totally wrecked. And she had been crying. Her make-up was smeared and her lips devoid of their usual cherry lipstick. Tracking her thoughts, he crossed the room to her side.

“How bad was it after I left?”

Her hand flew to her cheeks, brushing away the caked streaks.

“Pretty awful. Papa says I've ruined your life, and condemned the commune to another Dark Time. And you don't want to know what he thinks about using the marriage to cleanse the clearing.”

“Not if you value your sanity,” Charles said, eyeing Devlin while skirting Brianna's form. He crossed the space and stopped alongside the doctor.

“As the Interim High Priestess, Brianna has evoked the ancient law of Weaving,” he stated. “I see no other recourse, but to suggest that the Elder Council abide by her decision.”

Brad frowned at the suggestion.

“Are you sure you want to put the congregation through that? They're bound to bring up Brenda's name.”

A sudden silence descended in the room, and Devlin watched Brianna drop into a chair alongside the bed.

“I can take it.” she declared. “At least, I think I can.”

Seeing the nervous bite of her lower lip, Devlin was relieved by her words. For a moment, he had thought she would play the anger card, regardless of how hopeless it might be. Twisting his head, he gauged her expression as thoughtful rather than resigned.

Clearing his throat, Brad flung his stethoscope around his neck. Beside him, Charles stalled whatever he was about to say.

“I will contact Rufus and set the ceremony for two.” His gaze landed on Devlin. “That should give you enough time to relearn the creed and decide on the appropriate ritual.”

Devlin frowned at the barb, remembering Brianna's earlier remark about half-truths. The doctor wisely changed the subject, addressing Brianna.

“You mother's vital signs are stable at the moment; however, if they begin to fail, I will have no choice but to have her air-lifted to Tucson. If that occurs, the police will automatically become involved—whether we want them to or not.” Seeing Brianna's mouth open, he held up his hand. “I'm not saying we're at that point yet.”

Devlin saw Brianna's glance trip to her father.

“So, we're just writing Mother's soul off as irretrievable?”

A pained look crossed her father's features, and Devlin heard a long sigh.

“Unfortunately, no one in this congregation has the power to raise the prayers your mother needs to heal. Not even my skills are enough. It's simply beyond us all.”

“It's not as hopeless as you think,” Brianna interrupted, “Mother's essence could be restored—if we know what spell was used to take her down.”

A discreet cough had the pair glancing at the doctor again.

“There is no full-proof way to restore her essence. I know. I've searched the Book of Shadows.”

A shocked look crossed Brianna's face.

“You have Mother's personal journal?”

“No, of course not. That's a sacred text—for her eyes only.”

Devlin managed to hide a smile. The group had no idea what Brianna was hinting at. But he did. She was thinking ahead to a binding with Nicodemus. He studied her face. He'd be damned if he'd let her merge her essence with Nicodemus without discussing it with him first. If she was going to take over the reins of the coven, and alter his life as well as her own, he wanted some say in it.

“Without her journal to guide me,” Brianna finally asserted. “The congregation is never going to accept me as their High Priestess, especially when they learn how I obtained the title.”

“Unfortunately, your birth makes that an idiotic excuse at best.”

Her gaze turned from ice to fire at his statement.

“I have already committed the worst of sins by declaring myself Mother's successor. I certainly won't usurp her magic when I know full well that I don't have the spiritual purity to do it.”

“Well, I for one believe in your magical skills, so that's a moot point as well,” Brad countered.

“We are not at the end of the road here,” Devlin jumped in. “We still have a few avenues to explore before resorting to last-ditch efforts.”

“Such as?” Brad asked.

Brianna stirred in her chair.

“Examining the amulet Mother was wearing at the time of her collapse. Its energy will still be intact.”

The doctor's face paled, and his gaze shot to the bed.

“She wasn't wearing any jewelry when we brought her from the circle.”

“She never goes without her amulet—at least I've never seen her without it.” Brianna's gaze shot to her father and then to Devlin, who saw the fear written in her eyes.