Witch's Awakening (32 page)

He drew back, the memory stilling his hands. She had told him she loved him last night. Just before she left him, she professed her love. She planned to die, even though she loved him. What a mess all of this was. Both he and Brenna were paying a price for pursuing their relationship.

He backed away from her, hands upheld. “All right. You won't listen to me about anything, so I'm done talking. You figure out your curse, and then we'll…” He swallowed the words. Then they would what?

He went to his cruiser and pulled out of the drive. Morning sun, hot already, glimmered on his rearview mirror as he watched Brenna turn her SUV in the opposite direction. He resisted the urge to follow her, to make sure she didn't go back to Mulligan Falls to offer herself again to the evil spirit who waited to claim a Connelly witch. He didn't know what to do.

Brenna wanted to die for her family.

Even though she loved him.

And he loved her.

Jake had never allowed himself to feel this deeply for any woman. He would have laid down his life for the men in his unit. He thought he would grieve for Garth for the rest of his life, but this need to protect Brenna, to save her, was the strongest emotion he had allowed himself to feel since his father ripped his mother out of his world.

Loving Brenna confirmed the most important lesson Jake had learned from his parents. Love wasn't enough. His mother's love had not saved his father. His father's love for her had not been enough to thwart his wild nature.

So what hope did Jake have of saving Brenna?

Not much. Not much at all.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Brenna restrained herself from throwing one of Cousin Inez's journals across the bedroom.

After returning to Jake's cabin from her encounter with the Williamses and Jake, she had called the home place to see how everyone was doing after the fire. Sarah and Marcus were still asleep, Eva Grace said, but all was calm now.

So Brenna fell into bed, exhausted, for a couple of fitful hours of sleep. Waking still tired and groggy, she made coffee, ate cereal and settled back into bed with the journals, history books and her notes from
The Connelly Book of Magic
. Somewhere in all of this, there had to be answers, but where?

Brenna blew out an exhausted breath as Tasmin leapt onto the bed. The cat had avoided her for most of the morning, miffed over being left behind and sealed inside with magic last night.

Tasmin meowed as she settled on her haunches and regarded Brenna.

“I told you I was sorry. It couldn't be helped.” Brenna reached out to stroke the cat, hoping their strong magical connection might spark a new thought about her problems. Her last feline familiar had often helped her focus on a spell, summon the elements or work through a dilemma. Scientists claimed that stroking an animal slowed the heart rate, reduced blood pressure and lowered stress.

Both her witch and human sides could use some calming right now.

“Who can help us?” she asked the cat.

Tasmin rolled on her back, paws outstretched, begging for a belly rub.

Brenna complied and let her thoughts wander. Who in New Mourne might know something to aid the coven? Brenna began to consider other supernaturals in town.

The most numerous were the werewolves. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to talk to the pack leaders. The druid county commissioner and his family were more secretive than the fae, so they might even refuse to discuss the current troubles with her. They also hadn't been in town more than a century, so they probably knew little about the Connelly curse.

The kitchen witch who ran the bakery had moved here in the last decade. Eva Grace had mentioned to Brenna a wizard who moved into the old farmhouse several miles up from Sarah's, but he was reputed to be cold and indifferent, preferring not to mix with his neighbors.

The shifters were an unorganized group that included some kinfolk of Garth's and loners like Jake. After discovering the peace and acceptance of New Mourne, they kept to themselves. She doubted they had anything to offer.

Among the humans, though, were those who married supers or coexisted with them for varying periods of time, some going back as far as the first group of settlers. There were farmers and owners of small businesses attracted to the county when Sarah opened the farm as a commune in the late 1960s. All would no doubt do what they could for the Connellys, but
what
could they do? Perhaps only be victimized further by the demon who had already affected them and their families.

Then there was The Enclave. The community built as an escape from Atlanta's metropolitan sprawl would be eager to put a stop to anything that ruffled their existence, but most of them belonged in Fred Williams' camp of ultra-conservatives. They were more likely to march onto the Connelly home place with pitchforks and burning torches, or their fully licensed automatic rifles, than come to the coven's aid.

The secret, Brenna still believed, lay in knowing more about the Woman in White. She turned to the history book with the sketch of the missionary's daughter who jumped to her death at Mulligan Falls. There was no doubt in Brenna's mind that this was the Woman in White. Had she truly been in love with a Native American? Did she go mad? Was that why her spirit still roamed here? Why had powerful witches bowed to her will for so long?

Brenna went back to Inez's journals. She finally located one that went into detail on some of the early Native Americans who lived in Mourne County. Inez had copied the “Ten Indian Commandments” in one of the books. Brenna was surprised how much those edicts matched the “Thirteen Goals Witches Strive to Achieve.”

The Indian Commandments said, “Treat the Earth and all that dwell thereon with respect.” The Witches' Goals included, “Attune with the cycles of the earth.” Indians were encouraged to “remain close to the Great Spirit,” while witches were told to “honor the goddess and the god.”

“We're so much alike,” Brenna said as Tasmin carefully cleaned a paw. “But I guess that's what New Mourne is based on, isn't it? It's a place where people of different species, lifestyles, religions, beliefs—no matter what—are accepted and live in harmony. I guess Fred Williams and his group just missed that memo.”

The look Tasmin gave her mistress told Brenna that nothing in New Mourne was harmonious right now.

“All right, I agree with you, but I believe we do work toward that harmony.”

The cat placed her chin on her paws and shut her eyes.

Brenna closed the book and lay back on her pillows. She realized no matter how much she read or learned about the Woman in White, it still came down to one point. There would be more suffering for family and friends until a Connelly died. Seeing the workshop burn last night had solidified what must be done. Brenna knew, with great sadness, that she had to offer herself again, this time with no hesitation.

Tasmin lifted her head and looked toward the window. Her ears pricked forward, and then she streaked off the bed. Not two seconds later, Brenna heard Jake's vehicle in the driveway.

Brenna sat up, wondering if it would be awkward between them now.

In a few moments, Jake entered the bedroom. He stood in the doorway and looked at her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, feeling uncomfortable. “Sure.”

“That's good.”

“How are things in town?”

“Disturbing.”

“Did something else happen?” Brenna asked, concerned. What if her attempt to sacrifice herself last night had stirred up trouble again?

“Downtown is jammed with people,” he explained. “Every room in the inn is filled and we've got day trippers galore in all the shops.”

“Did you see someone suspicious?”

“No, but I feel like we're in a cauldron. There's something simmering. Literally about to boil. It's weird how hot it is. I've lived here for three years and the summer is always humid and uncomfortable, but not like now. It feels like the desert did when I was in service. Dry heat—”

“Like a furnace blast,” Brenna completed for him.

“Yeah.” He met her gaze, and then looked away. An uncomfortable silence settled as they avoided the big questions looming between them.

So Brenna asked, “Do you want me to leave, Jake?”

He hesitated, clearly torn. Then he nodded. “It would be for the best, I think. Don't you?”

Brenna didn't know what the best was, but this was Jake's home and she wasn't about to be here if he didn't want her.

She got up from the bed. “I need to get few things together, then Tasmin and I will leave. After what happened last night to the workshop, I should be with the family. We have to get ready if we're going to cast this spell tomorrow night.”

Jake started to say something, and then reconsidered. “I'll be out back,” he told Brenna, but he stopped in the doorway and turned to her. “I've never cared about anyone the way I care about you, Brenna.”

“I feel that way about you, too.”

He seemed surprised at her admission.

She managed a tremulous smile. “I know. We were just going to be friends with benefits, but that's not working out too well. Not for you either, I think. I always thought when I fell in love it would be after I knew I was safe from the Woman in White. I thought it might be good thing. From your evident misery, you're not too pleased by these feeling, either.”

“I never intended to love anyone.” Jake leaned against the doorframe. “After what happened to my parents, can you blame me?”

She brushed that away, knowing her reassurances would fall on deaf ears. “And I've got other priorities right now.”

“You're going to do something I won't like, aren't you?”

“If you want me to lie, I will.” Tears gathered and slid down her cheeks.

Jake stepped back into the room and reached out brush her tears away. “You shouldn't have to die. None of you should have to die. There has to be a way out of this.”

Brenna shook her head. “I've believed that, too, until now. At this point, we can only keep trying, but I'm not optimistic about winning.” She stroked his cheek. “If it's me that's taken, you won't hurt for long, Jake. The coven will make it better for you.”

“No, they won't.” He pulled her close again, pressing his face against her neck, his voice choked with emotion. “Even magic couldn't make me forget you. Not ever.”

He left then, and she heard his cruiser start up in the drive.

The stillness of the summer afternoon settled around Brenna as she gathered the few clothes she had brought with her. Despite everything, she didn't want to leave. She felt at home here. She understood now that running to Atlanta, the lack of focus in her career and her desertion of the coven were all excuses she used to avoid thoughts of the future.

She always wondered how Eva Grace and Maggie had moved on to making future plans with the curse to deal with. Maggie even had a child, a female child, knowing what the future might hold for her. Eva Grace made wedding plans. Loving Garth gave her hope, but hope wasn't evident in Brenna's life. Maybe it was all those years of hoping her parents would come home only to be disappointed.

Now she had a glimmer of understanding. She closed her eyes, imagining being with Jake five years from now, with children ten years from now, growing old together. She couldn't form the pictures. They just wouldn't come because Brenna couldn't see a future for herself. The present kept invading it.

She couldn't see past offering herself to the Woman in White. No matter what Jake said, she knew what her duty was—to her family, her coven, herself.

Duty called and she must answer. Now, since she had so much to lose, maybe the Woman would oblige her and take it all away.

Chapter Thirty

Sweating in the fierce heat of the late afternoon, Jake strolled down Main Street. Rather than stay at the house while Brenna moved out, he went into town.

Main Street was as crowded as earlier in the day. A line waited outside Mary's Diner. The bakery was closed and had a “Sold out of bread” sign affixed to its front door, but other shops were still open and humming with business. The local snow cone vendor dispensed icy treats as fast as he could make them.

And no wonder, Jake thought as he glared overhead. The sun had bleached the color from the sky. Every flower and leaf within sight drooped. Nothing stirred except cars and people on the sidewalks.

There was no sign of trouble, however, as Jake turned a corner and headed to the back entrance of the courthouse. A man stood on the porch outside the sheriff's department. Legs planted apart, and hands opening and closing at his sides, he stared in Jake's direction.

Jake's hand moved toward his gun, though he didn't touch it.

“There ain't enough room in this town for both of us,” the man said with an exaggerated Southern accent. “We're gonna have to shoot it out, sheriff.”

“I'd be willing to do that, Dr. McGuire,” Jake replied, “but I have hunted with you before, and I know you couldn't hit a pig in a barrel. That puts me at a distinct advantage.”

“Well, hell,” the man said and walked toward Jake. “Let's hug instead.”

The rusty-haired man in rumpled khakis, white shirt and a navy blue blazer had Jake in a strong bear hug when the door to office opened and Gladys stepped out. “Everything okay out here, Jake?” Her eyes were wide as she took in Rodric McGuire, Ph.D. and supernatural investigator from Edinburgh, Scotland.

Jake noted with amusement that his trusty dispatcher was carrying a baseball bat. He also knew she would have used it. He quickly introduced her to Rodric.

His friend's Scottish accent was evident as he greeted the older woman. “So happy to meet you. I'm an old friend of Jake and Garth's.”

Jake could see Gladys was as susceptible to Rodric as most females. Jake never quite understood the man's charm. He had a wiry build and was almost as tall as Jake, a bookish sort with his tortoise-shell glasses and an absent-minded air, but when he frequented bars with Jake and Garth, it was Rodric who never went home alone.