Witch's Awakening (2 page)

Eva Grace knelt beside Jake, her tears falling unheeded. She was drenched, and she shivered as if chilled. “I wasn't fast enough,” she sobbed. “I couldn't help him.”

Jake pulled her against his shoulder. He looked up at Brenna and Fiona, and asked, “What happened?”

Brenna spoke in a clear, certain tone, telling him about the unnatural storm and Garth's murder by an evil spirit. Though Jake wasn't around Brenna often, she was always cool, distant and sure of herself. Even now, with Garth dead, she didn't hesitate.

Jake took in the scene. All three of the women's light and colorful summer dresses were soaked. The fabric molded to Brenna's feminine curves. He deliberately turned his thoughts from the distraction, noting instead that her short cap of auburn hair was beginning to dry in the summer heat. Eva Grace's long red hair and Fiona's dark curls were wet ropes down their backs. They looked as if they had been through a struggle, just as Brenna had said.

Around them, Jake could see no evidence related to what had happened. Garth's body was clean; the grass in the clearing was wet, but held only debris from the forest. There were no obvious signs of anyone else being in the area. It was like Garth had simply dropped dead.

Fiona's voice was calm as she stated, “There was a malevolent spirit here, Jake, and she was on a mission. She wanted Garth and she took him. We couldn't do anything about it.”

“I didn't get to him in time,” Eva Grace said, pushing away from Jake's chest and reaching out to stroke Garth's hand. “I should have come out sooner.”

“What do you think you could have done?” Brenna said. “We've always known this could happen. We just didn't know how or when.”

Jake frowned at her. “What does that mean?”

Fiona reached Eva Grace and helped her to her feet. “Come on, let's get you back to the house—”

“Sorry,” Jake said. “You need to stay here until I can get a statement. This is a crime scene.”

Brenna gave him a look that would have melted iron. “We just told you what happened.”

“I need details.”

“Details,” she said and crossed her arms on her chest as if holding herself back. “Let's see. You need a description so you can put out a BOLO? She was tall, willowy and had blond hair that didn't get wet. She wore an old-fashioned white dress and was transparent. She killed Garth with just a touch and then she disappeared.” Her hands dropped to her hips. “That about covers it.”

Jake ignored her and pulled out a notebook. He looked at Eva Grace. “Are you up to this?” He knew he was being tough on them all, but he needed information while it was fresh on their minds. Didn't he owe Garth that much?

Eva Grace raked wet hair away from her face. “I felt a heavy presence. My moonstone was glowing and hot. I knew Garth was in trouble and I knew where he was, but I have no idea how he got here. What Brenna said was what happened. It was the Woman in White. She killed Garth.”

Jake was silent. He had learned long ago not to question the remarkable in the place he now called home. He had seen ghosts, been called out to settle disputes involving love potions, and had once taken the report of a resident who was turned into a toad. But this was beyond anything he had encountered thus far and, as a result, a good man was dead.

“Can we go now?” Brenna demanded. She put her arm around Eva Grace. “She needs to get inside and get out of her wet clothes.”

Jake realized Brenna was right. What was he going to do about a ghost? Except maybe protect the women that Garth had loved so much.

“Go to the house,” he said as he stepped toward Eva Grace. “I'm so sorry. I don't know—” His words broke.

The petite redhead took Jake's hand. God, how Jake had envied the unconditional love between Eva Grace and Garth. She loved Garth enough to let him join the army and roam the world. She was smart enough to make him court her and earn her trust once he returned. And she tamed the wildness in him. Because Eva Grace accepted both sides of his nature, Garth was confident enough to take her as his mate.

Jake knew, with bleak certainty, he would never be able to trust himself enough to love anyone. Harsh lessons, learned in his childhood, had taught him to walk alone. Everyone was safer when the Tylers stayed away from strong emotions.

As his painful memories rose, Eva Grace gripped his hand with hers. “I feel your losses, Jake. Too many losses. You didn't deserve to lose Garth. I know what he meant to you.”

Emotion clogged his throat. He turned to look at Garth's gray, still features. From Eva Grace's warm touch, Jake felt calm and comfort flood through him. Even in her grief, she used her empathic abilities to help and heal.

“Take care of her,” he told Fiona.

Brenna answered him. “We always take care of our own.”

“You see to Garth now,” Fiona said before he could reply to Brenna's sharp tone. “Do that for Eva Grace and then come back to the house to talk to us.”

“I need a minute with Garth,” Eva Grace said suddenly. “Just a minute alone, please.”

Sirens were wailing in the distance. The EMS crew would soon be pulling up to the Connelly's home and coming to the falls. Deputies would help Jake cover every inch of the scene. The state crime lab was sending a team. Jake had also called a group of local paranormal researchers who often helped the sheriff's department look for elements outside of fingerprints and fibers.

Eva Grace deserved a moment of privacy with Garth before that invasion began.

“Take as long as you need,” Jake told her and, leaving the grieving woman alone, walked with Brenna and Fiona onto the path that led to the Connelly home.

“Shouldn't we keep an eye on her?” Fiona whispered to Brenna.

“There's nothing here that can harm her now,” Brenna said, pausing just inside the forest. “The worst has happened.”

“Are you sure it's the worst or the beginning?” Fiona asked. “Garth wasn't a Connelly. Why would the Woman in White take him?”

“She's a ghost,” Brenna replied to her sister. “If any of us could sense what she was thinking, it's you, Fiona.”

Jake knew Fiona was well known for her ability to communicate with the dead, but she shook her head at Brenna's question. “There was just anger. She didn't communicate anything but anger to me.”

Jake interrupted. “Who is this spirit? You talk as if you know who it was.”

“The Woman in White,” Brenna snapped at him. “She's always been coming for one of us. She comes after all the Connelly women.”

“Well, not all—” Fiona broke in.

“At least one of us a generation,” Brenna said. “She takes one of us.”

“Takes you?” Jake countered. “What do you mean?”

Brenna regarded him with cold impatience. “She kills one of us, shifter.”

Jake was startled, but not by what she called him. She was a witch. She was Eva Grace's close relative. Of course she knew what he was, but why the belligerence? Questions formed in his mind, but a sudden disturbance forestalled any further conversation.

Instinct made Jake step in front of the women, but the source of the noise was not a threat. Sarah Connelly Hayes, the Connelly family matriarch, hurried toward them, followed by her husband, Marcus. Sarah's long, gray hair was loose around her shoulders, and for the first time ever Jake thought she looked old.

“What's happened?” she demanded. “I was in Eva Grace's garden, supervising the set-up of the tent for the wedding when I felt everything change. It went dark.”

“Garth's dead, Sarah,” Brenna told her without preamble. Jake sensed an odd note of triumph in her tone. What was that about?

Sarah turned white and faltered. Her husband stepped up and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Steady, now,” the tall, dark-haired man murmured before he looked at Brenna. “How could Garth be dead?”

“Ask her,” Brenna said, nodding at her grandmother again. Again, Jake felt her anger toward the older woman. “Ask her why her protections failed. She's had twenty-eight years to prepare for this. So ask her why it happened.”

Sarah's eyes narrowed, and her frame straightened. “Yes, blame me, Brenna. I'll gladly take the blame, like all those who went before me. Blame me for this, for all of our losses. Give me the blame, as always.”

Brenna's eyes filled with tears, revealing a glimpse of hurt and confusion that surprised Jake. Maybe the beautiful, sexy witch wasn't made of ice after all.

Sarah stepped up and took Brenna's hands. “I hope you'll be the one who finds the answers, girl. For all of our sakes.”

Without another word, Sarah dropped Brenna's hands and pushed past them, calling Eva Grace's name. They followed her to the clearing where she met her grieving granddaughter with a choked cry and an embrace.

Jake noticed that despite the sharp exchange, Brenna linked her hand with Sarah's as they once more formed a circle around Garth.

And as the Connelly witches joined hands, Jake felt evil brush past them as he had earlier. It stirred the trees. All four women looked up and chanted together. A single lightning bolt came out of the clear sky and struck near the edge of the cliff, just next to the falls. Then there was silence.

Marcus murmured, “Holy shit, that's some damn bad mojo.”

Jake thought that summed it up well. What was happening to peaceful, magical Mourne County?

Chapter Three

By late afternoon, the home place filled with Connelly women—cooking, cleaning, and guarding the young woman whose heart had been shattered.

Brenna heard the murmurs of female relatives as she came down the back staircase and into the kitchen. There was a time when she would have been annoyed by their fluttering about. Right now, she was glad to have them close. Eva Grace needed their support.

Brenna and Fiona had been upstairs with her since returning to the house a few hours ago. Eva Grace had been calm as they all changed from damp dresses into dry jeans and T-shirts that Brenna supplied. Then a storm of grief had claimed Eva Grace. Brenna knew she would recall those wrenching sobs forever.

Two other female cousins met Brenna at the foot of the narrow staircase. “How is she?” Maggie Connelly Mills asked quietly, nodding toward the second floor.

“Asleep, finally,” Brenna replied. “Fiona's with her in case she wakes up.”

“I hope she sleeps a good long time,” said Lauren Mayfield, the other cousin who was near Brenna and Eva Grace's age. Two aunts in the kitchen agreed with silent nods and tearful sighs.

All of them were struggling with shock and mourning, emotions this old house had witnessed too much of over the years. Mixed with joy and the family gatherings, there had been plenty of tragedy for the Connellys here.

The kitchen was the heart of the house. The long, log-paneled room had three walls from the first cabin built when the original Connellys arrived in these Georgia mountains from Ireland in the 1750s. Since then, new generations had added on. The white farmhouse Sarah inherited was now a three-story, six-bedroom house with a huge great room and a dining room big enough to seat eighteen people.

This was Marcus and Sarah's home. Eva Grace had settled into a cottage in the town proper, near the shop she ran. Fiona had a small apartment on Main Street. This big house was seldom empty, however, as there were always relations in and out. Brenna had moved into the attic suite, so she could have privacy as she adjusted to being home and near her family again.

For a family of witches so strong, Brenna wondered why they couldn't put a stop to the tragedy that haunted them.

Maggie interrupted Brenna's intense thoughts. “Aunt Sarah is in the dining room with the elder aunts.”

Brenna hesitated as she glanced toward the front of the house. The elder aunts were her grandmother's two sisters, Doris and Frances. Along with Sarah, they were the last of their generation. Brenna imagined they were talking about what this attack from the Woman in White meant. It certainly didn't follow the pattern set since 1757, when the first Connelly witch had been taken.

Familiar anger sparked through Brenna. All these years, and no one found a way to break this curse. They weren't even clear on why it had started. It was ridiculous. So many skilled witches should have found a way. She had grown up knowing the legend and knowing that she, Eva Grace and Fiona, along with Maggie and Lauren, stood a good chance of dying young. What she didn't understand was why they needed to accept their fate.

The five of them were the Connelly females of their generation. Everyone else in their twenties and thirties was male. The men were never touched, but Maggie and her brother had daughters. Brenna couldn't bear to think that any of those young girls facing an attack like they witnessed today.

Brenna strode into the dining room. Behind her were her two cousins and two aunts. Three older women were seated at one end of the long, oak table. Sarah had changed into her usual flowing tunic and jeans, while her two sisters were conservatively dressed in pastel pantsuits. All of them had thick, silvery hair, a common trait among aging Connellys. Unlike Sarah's long tresses, however, Doris and Frances favored short coifs sprayed into rigid helmets by New Mourne's most revered beauty salon. Brenna often thought her elder aunts resembled pious churchwomen more than witches.

All three women were studying a large open book—
The Connelly Book of Magic
. It included history, spells and magic. At least four inches thick, the book's heavy, old pages were stuffed with loose papers, yellowed photographs and handwritten notes. It was bound in ancient, scrolled leather and laced together with faded ribbons. According to family legend, the cover was cracked from an indiscriminate use of witch water a century ago, and the book itself was known to speak.

Brenna tried many times without success to get a peek inside it. She wished the pages would talk now and explain today's events. “You have to fix this, once and for all,” Brenna told her grandmother and the elder aunts.