Autumn Storm (22 page)

She hesitated, uncertain if she wanted to
show her scars. Setting the tea down, she lifted her hair from the
side of her face.

“It runs to here, “she said, pointing to a
spot on her chest. “Mine are all from a car accident.”

“I might have one that long,” he said,
pensive.

She smiled, surprised.

“I do.” Grandpa Louis sat back and rolled up
one pant leg, revealing a scar that ran from his knee to his
ankle.

“I might be able to beat that,” she said.
Leaning forward, she tugged up her legging on her bad leg to her
knee.

“You win, my dear,” Grandpa Louis said. “You
are the first to best me at this game in twenty years.”

Autumn laughed at the bizarre competition.
She glanced at Michael, whose gaze was on her amulet. It had fallen
free of her sweater when she bent over. He seemed less interested
in it than the chain that consisted of worn, silver links. She’d
never thought twice about it.

“He does this with all our guests,” he said
with a faint smile. “It usually scares people.”

“Autumn and I have lived, Michael, and we
have the proof to show it,” Grandpa Louis replied.

“We’ve survived,” she agreed.

“Grandpa Louis went to war. You’re young for
such scars,” Michael said to her. “They are newish, too, aren’t
they.”

She nodded. The men had gentle, warm
presences that put her at ease. Michael seemed troubled. Autumn saw
his delayed smile, as if he was thinking.

“Three months old,” she said.

“They’ll likely fade,” Grandpa Louis
said.

“I hope they do. You might beat me, if
so.”

“I might,” he agreed, the skin around his
eyes softening as he smiled.

“We were talking about how to live with our
Dark Mistresses,” Michael said.

“One day at a time,” Grandpa Louis said.
“It’s harder on them than us. We don’t suffer as they do.”

“We bring calm and comfort,” Michael agreed.
“The Dark Masters are known for bloodlust. They’re always right at
the edge of the Darkness. It tries to drag them over to it while
they try to keep it from creeping farther into the world.”

“It’s a dangerous balance,” Grandpa Louis
added. “They cannot do it alone.”

She listened, intrigued by their words.
Nothing like this was in the orientation book or the classes she’d
had Tuesday about the Dark.

“Every Dark Master or Mistress has a
preordained mate,” Michael explained. “Someone who anchors them, so
the Darkness can’t get them.”

“Decker lost his,” Grandpa Louis’s voice was
sad. “I do not think we are enough for him, Michael.”

“We aren’t. But things happen as they do for
a reason. He may recover yet.”

Autumn heard the hidden pain in his voice.
It made her sad for him. Summer was Decker’s mate, and he’d killed
her. Was he able to recover at all, if she was all that held him
back from the Dark? Distraught by what she’d learned, she leaned
down to un-bunch and push down her leggings.

Blood dropped onto her hand. Her nose was
bleeding. She hadn’t noticed the headache creeping on her but did
now. Her amulet felt warm against her chest.

“Michael? Daddy?” the sultry voice came from
the hallway.

“Here, baby!” Grandpa Louis replied. “We’re
having tea.”

“So early? It’s not even …”

Autumn glanced up then back. The stunning
woman was a few inches taller than she was with flawless features
and large eyes. Her aura was much like Decker’s: powerful, dark and
seductive. She wore snug clothing and her straight hair long. Where
Decker and Beck had their father’s facial features, Decker had his
mother’s dark eyes, so brown they were almost black. She’d stopped
in the doorway, surprise registering across her face. Autumn
guessed they rarely had guests. There was no doubt in her mind this
was Michael’s wife, the former Mistress of Dark.

“A special occasion,” Grandpa Louis
said.

“Come meet Autumn,” Michael said.

The Dark Mistress didn’t leave the doorway.
Husband and wife exchanged a look that made Autumn think they were
communicating silently, and it wasn’t a good conversation. At last,
the woman paced into the family room with the smooth walk of a
predator. Her shadows were like a flash of unrestrained fire
compared to the calm magick radiating from the men.

Autumn felt the sting of hot tea against her
hand. She was shaking. She didn’t know why or why she was close to
having a full-blown migraine. She replaced the tea on the tray and
focused on breathing deeply to keep nausea from rising.

“Autumn, my wife, Rania. Rania, Autumn,”
Michael said. “Autumn and Grandpa Louis were having a scar battle.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist as she neared. Her fire
vanished.

“Autumn,” Rania said. “It’s a pretty
name.”

“Thank you,” Autumn mumbled.

“Beck found her with Sam in the forest in
the middle of the storm,” Michael said casually.

“And he brought her here,” Rania said.

Autumn sensed she wasn’t welcome. “I’m sorry
for intruding.”

“You’re not,” Michael replied.

“I’ll get the guest room ready.” The magick
of the former Mistress of Dark flared to life as she moved away
from her husband’s touch. He’d won whatever battle passed between
him and his wife. Autumn had no idea what that might’ve been, but
she was surprised someone with Decker’s magick would back down from
anyone. The calm, warm Michael ran the house.

When Rania was gone, Autumn’s headache began
to fade.

“I can go,” she said to Michael.

“Not in this storm.” The words were kind but
firm enough to warn her it was a closed subject.

“I’ve got a collection of war movies I’ve
been saving for when we were snowed in,” Grandpa Louis said to her.
“Care to join me?”

She looked at Michael. He offered a smile
she took as meaning for her to go ahead.

“Sure,” she said. She stood and followed
Grandpa Louis down the hall to a media room. Her thoughts were on
the strange disappearance of Rania’s magick when her mate touched
her and the information the men gave her.

Had she done something similar to Decker
Monday after their walk? His whole body surrendered to her touch.
If so, did that mean Summer wasn’t his mate, like everyone thought
she was?

The idea he’d fallen in love with the wrong
person made her feel bad. Maybe, she was misreading what happened.
After all, she didn’t think she’d handle the life of a Dark
Master’s mate with the same calm acceptance as Michael and Grandpa
Louis. Or maybe she might, if it meant going to bed every night
with Decker. The thought made her stumble on her way to the seats
up front.

Pain went through her, and she gritted her
teeth, realizing she didn’t have painkillers with her. How long was
Beck planning on leaving her here? How long could the storm
last?

Autumn sat down and waited for Grandpa
Louis. He joined her, cheerful, as the first documentary started.
Several hours later, just when the US entered World War II, she was
asleep.

Autumn awoke in a bedroom in the cabin the
next morning. She didn’t recall leaving the media room but must
have found her way to the guest room at some point. The scents of
fresh coffee and breakfast drifted under the closed door. She
rolled onto her back and gazed at the ceiling. There were maps of
the constellations taped to the ceiling. Two were drawn in and
shaded.

Orion. Scorpio.
Why did she know
them?

Her body didn’t hurt this morning, but her
head did. She sat up and looked around. It was a guy’s room; the
color scheme was dark blue and black. There was a small fireplace
in one wall.

The headache grew. Autumn looked away. It
was too early for a migraine, especially since the rest of her body
felt decent for once. The en suite bathroom had everything she
needed for a shower, and she took a long one, grateful for the
privacy Dawn had yet to afford her. When she exited, she was
surprised to find her dirty clothes gone and a clean set waiting
for her on the newly made bed. Her two rocks sat on top.

Autumn lifted the sweater, troubled to find
it similar to one she already owned. Unable to escape the sense
she’d been here before, she gazed up at the star maps on the
ceiling. Confusion and memories warred within her until she gave up
digging through her mind for answers. The clothing was in her size.
She refused to think about how or why but changed and limped to the
stairs leading to the main floor of the cabin.

It was the second night of her life she’d
slept without pain. It returned as she navigated the stairs. She
was almost relieved at the sensation. It didn’t confuse her like
everything else here did. She joined Grandpa Louis in the
kitchen.

“My famous crepes,” he said. He set a plate
of thin, rolled crepes on the breakfast table in the kitchen. They
were topped with huckleberries.

Autumn wolfed them down, her gaze going to
the peaceful scene outside the window. The lake was covered with
snow, and trees sagged under the weight of white. She drank two
cups of coffee and was on her third when Beck’s voice came from the
hallway behind her.

“Heya, Grandpa Louis,” he said
cheerfully.

She twisted to see him walk into the
kitchen. He appeared more rested than he had when he dropped her
off with his parents, though there was still an unusual wariness to
him.

“Ready?” he asked her.

“For…?”

“I’m your ride back to the school.” He held
out a hand.

“Okay.” She rose and crossed to Grandpa
Louis, giving him a hug. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” he said, squeezing her
back. “Beck will bring you cookies, next time he is in.”

She smiled then took Beck’s hand. The white
cloud descended then lifted, revealing the comfortable television
room of the school. She shuddered at the strange magick. Releasing
him, she faced him with a glare.

“Why did you leave me there?” she asked.

“Yeah.” His hard gaze rested on the top of
the stairwell, not on her.

“Beck, what’s wrong?” she asked. “You’re
freaking me out again.”

He squeezed her arm, eyes returning to hers.
“Tanya went missing yesterday. She didn’t show up at her parents,
and they called the school. I’m trying to figure out if she was
snatched or something.”

She gasped. “Really?”

“I’ve been working on tracking Decker
down.”

“You don’t think…” She couldn’t finish the
sentence. She had to admit; it wasn’t outside the realm of
possibility that Decker – or whatever that thing inside him was –
was capable of kidnapping a witchling, if he killed so many of
them.

“I think he’s pissed enough at me to lash
out at anyone he thinks I’m interested in. I wanted to make sure
you were okay last night.”

“No worries there,” she said with a snort.
“You’ve ignored me all week.”

“Do me a favor. Don’t leave the house
today.” He was distracted again.

Shaking her head, Autumn went to the stairs
and made her way up them. She walked down the hall and opened the
door to her room. Dawn was sitting on her bed, laptop on her
thighs. She glanced up, uninterested.

“Let me guess. It was you at Beck’s cabin,”
she said in a tone that said she didn’t think Beck would stoop so
low.

Autumn rolled her eyes. “Grandpa Louis makes
killer crepes.”

Dawn appeared startled. “You really were
there. So it wasn’t Tanya.” For a long moment, she was silent,
almost pensive.

Autumn crossed the room, hoping she’d shut
up the moody girl.

“You know we’re gonna have a baby girl,
don’t you?” Dawn demanded.

“You can have him,” Autumn replied.
“Actually, you can have both the Turner twins.”

“I’ve been at Decker’s all week.”

Autumn almost missed a step. She caught
herself with her cane. She knew Decker had girls over, but
Dawn
? Everything she learned about Decker made her think she
needed to run the next time she saw him. But she wouldn’t. As hard
as it was to hear all the things he was doing, she couldn’t shake
her growing concern for him or the need to help him out of his
tailspin. She wasn’t sure it wasn’t too late.

“He’s as crazy as they say.” There was an
uneasy note in Dawn’s voice. “Totally worth it, though.”

Irritated for multiple reasons, Autumn hoped
she’d have some peace sitting on the couch watching television. She
crossed to her closet and paused. She’d thought to change into her
clothes, but the clothes she wore fit like they really were hers.
Fingering the soft sweater, she noticed it was the same cut,
material and quality as one of those she already had. The color was
different, but they were identical otherwise.

“I’m going to marry Beck,” Dawn continued.
“All you are is a fling.”

Talk about crazy.
Autumn
half-listened, her attention on her clothing. She hadn’t checked
the brand of jeans, but she suspected they’d be the same as at
least one of those in her closet. Did it matter?