Blood Tied (8 page)

In the middle of the many loved ones we’d lost over the years, I saw only one photo, the one belonging to Priscilla Blackmoor, my mother. Her luminous red hair cascaded over her creamy shoulders. As a child, whenever I snuggled into the crook of her neck, the bouquet of rose petals and cinnamon had always brought me great comfort. When she’d smiled, mischievousness glinted in her hazel eyes. No one ever knew if they were going to be on the receiving end of a giant momma bear hug or a practical joke. She’d loved a good prank almost as much as she loved us.

But now that she had been reduced to photos and memories, I couldn’t swallow the bowling ball-sized lump lodged in my throat.

To the best of my ability, I choked back the tears that threatened to make me a blubbering mess and focused on the fourth altar. It had been set up to honor our predecessors, the past protector covens. It was the longest altar of the four, since it contained photos and mementos that dated back to the birth of our species. It represented a symbolic assemblage of the most powerful warlocks, witches, and wizards who had ever existed.

The four altars signified everything we were as individual covens and the legacy of the station we had been elevated to in our community.

My father, dressed in a black button-down and tan pants, stepped forward. He regarded each of us with his steel blue gaze before focusing his attention on the altars before him. Since Samhain was a Sabbat dominated by black magic, it was up to him as the High Priest of our coven to initiate the ritual. “Let us begin,” he said.

He proceeded toward the altars, where Charles Proctor and Lawrence Stonewall, the high priests of their respective covens, joined him. The three men held hands, and all the candles across the four altars lit at once.

All of us then joined hands in one big circle around them.

“On this night, the gateway between our world and the spirit world grows thin,” my father began. “Tonight is the night to call out to those who came before us, and tonight we honor those ancestors.”

For a moment, silence engulfed the room as we each called to mind the memories of our loved ones.

“Spirits of our ancestors, we call to you. We welcome you. Join us this night. You watch over us and protect us and guide us, and we thank you by offering to share in our meal.”

With magical synchronicity, we all turned to gaze upon the table, each of us offering a silent invitation to our lost loved ones before returning our gaze to the High Priests.

“This is the cup of remembrance,” my father said before picking up the chalice on our family’s altar. He raised it high for all to see. “We remember you. You are dead but never forgotten,” he said with a slight crack in his voice. I shot my gaze to my brothers, who stared back at me. Though we all wanted to go to him and soothe the pain of missing our mother, we could not. We had to be strong. He had to be strong. At least until the ritual was over. “And you live on within us.”

He then brought the chalice to his bearded lips and drank.

With the ceremony concluded, we released hands and broke the circle. Everyone proceeded to their family’s altar to pay their respects. My brothers were at Dad’s side before I could even move. Mason patted his back while Pierce squeezed his shoulder.

I should have been there too, offering my father the comfort he required, but I couldn’t move.

A fiery pinprick had formed a few feet above the altar. Everyone was too focused on their conversations to notice. It grew bigger and brighter with each turn of the pinwheel’s fiery blades.

It had to be Aiden, but why was he coming back to our world again? I held my breath, my attention fixed upon the growing light. I shivered with excitement at the possibility that he had returned to see me.

IT DIDN’T
take long for the flaming pinwheel to attract attention. It grew in size quickly, radiating enough heat and light to rival a small sun. Tendrils of flame snaked outward from the spinning blades, and with each revolution, a loud
whoosh
echoed off the cherry wood walls of the library.

For a room full of magical beings, I found their silent captivation both humorous and bothersome. Although I knew its appearance signified no threat, they did not. Someone should be sounding the alarm.

“Get behind me!” my father commanded. His body immediately turned to stone as he thudded closer to the spinning flame. It did my warlock pride good to see someone from my family spring into action. Since warlocks were typically the first to jump into a fight, I wasn’t all that surprised.

“I think this is more up my alley,” Charles Proctor said as he rushed to my father’s side. His active power was fire, and it made him a rather formidable witch. His disdain for my father was well documented, and he enjoyed attempting to one-up him whenever the occasion merited it.

Lawrence Stonewall snuffed at them both. A sneer curled up the right corner of his dark lips. As was commonplace with wizards and their gray magic, he believed he was the only one capable of handling any threat that presented itself, and with his ability to control the minds of his enemies, he most likely could.

Right now, though, none of them were needed.

“Stand down,” I said with far more severity in my voice than I had intended. All eyes quickly turned to me. My father’s rocky lips widened in surprise, and Mr. Proctor gazed at me in disbelief. As High Priests, neither of them was accustomed to taking orders. Mr. Stonewall appeared to be only irritated by what he no doubt considered my petulance. “It isn’t a threat. I promise.”

“How could you possibly know this?” Lawrence Stonewall asked in his typical condescending tone.

“Because I met the being responsible for this portal on my way here.”

“You what?” my father asked. “And when were you planning on telling me?”

Only renouncing my magic could make him any more disappointed in me right now. Perhaps I should have revealed what happened, but seeing Ben in my home had blindsided me so hard, it distracted me from the wailing banshee and the sexy fire fairy I’d encountered in the woods.

“You told us you fought a banshee,” Pierce said. He suddenly stood at my side, his eyebrows stitched in confusion.

“A banshee?” Mr. Proctor asked. He and the rest of his coven darted their eyes around the room. White magic celebrated the connective spiritual aspects of life. Since banshees heralded death and the end of such connections, they were a species the witches didn’t enjoy being around.

“We could play twenty questions, or we can prepare to meet our guest,” I said.

As if on cue, a tiny fireball appeared in the middle of the flaming pinwheel. It shot out from the center and hovered above us, flitting like a hummingbird from one part of the room to the other. The ball of flame morphed into a small man with wings trailing fire behind him.

Even though he was no taller than three inches, I could definitely tell it was Aiden. His wide green eyes searched the crowd below, and when he settled his gaze on me, he darted toward me while increasing in size. By the time he flew in front of me, he had adjusted his size to the same tall, muscular man I’d found lying naked in the woods.

To my surprise, not only was he still unclothed, but he looked to be in even worse shape since the last time I’d seen him. A purplish bruise marred his snow-white right cheek, his pink lips were cracked and bloodied, and claw marks cut a nasty trail across his smooth chest and legs.

“Thaddeus,” he panted as his fiery wings suddenly disappeared. He landed roughly on his feet, clearly unable to stand on his own. I wrapped my arms around his larger frame, and he leaned against me for support. It surprised me how comforting and comfortable his body felt against mine.

“Aiden, what happened to you?”

Tears welled in his wide green eyes before spilling down his pallid flesh, but they weren’t tears of sadness or fear. His eyes burned with rage. “Otherworld is under attack.”

“By whom?”

“We don’t have time,” he said, a scowl forming on his lips. “They’re coming.”

I snapped my gaze to my father and brothers. They immediately surveyed the room, preparing for an attack. My father, still in his stone form, waited to take on anyone who might come flying out of the spinning pinwheel, which was slowly closing. While Mason placed himself in front of Drake to protect him, arcs of blue lightning snaked out of Pierce’s clenched fists.

The other covens did the same, switching on their active powers and preparing to meet the threat. Even though we didn’t get along very well, they quickly formed a defensive circle around us.

Only Ben stood on the periphery, wearing a rather odd expression. He arched one eyebrow at seeing Aiden in my arms, and his lips twisted as if he was in deep thought. Was he jealous?

I shook my head and turned my attention to Aiden. “Who’s coming?”

Though Aiden’s lips moved in response to my question, no sound issued forth. That was all the answer I needed. The banshees were here.

A FEW
seconds later, silent chaos erupted all around us. Six banshees with white, waist-length hair blinked into existence inside the library. Before anyone could act, they let loose an ear-piercing scream that put most of the room out of commission.

Those closest to the banshees when they appeared were hit the hardest. The sheer force of the sonic scream sent them tumbling across the room, where they fell. Among the unconscious heap were Mr. Proctor and his daughters, Charlotte and Miranda, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Stonewall. And Ben.

In just one move, the banshees had managed to take out two of the High Priests. Individually they could steamroll over most. When they worked together, they became a tank.

Edith Stonewall found that out the hard way. She had erected a force field around herself and her two younger siblings, but she had been unable to maintain the barrier under the concentrated scream. She and the young Kate and Keaton fell to their knees before passing out.

The banshees closed their mouths to gather their breath and surveyed those they still needed to put down.

Thad, get out of here!
a voice wailed inside my head. It was even louder than the banshees’ screams, and it made my teeth hurt. It was Elliot, using his telepathy.
They’ve come here for Aiden, and they intend to kill him
.

My gaze met Elliot’s, who kneeled next to his fallen family. His eyes were saucer wide in terror. Whatever he saw in the dark fae’s minds was evidently not good.

I wrapped my arm around Aiden’s naked waist and pulled him close.

“What are you doing?” he asked. Fiery tendrils snaked off his fists. He was clearly ready to fight, not retreat.

“We need to get out of here. They want to kill you.”

“Let them try,” he said. His temper raged as hot as the fire burning from his palms.

“I have to keep you safe.”

He shrugged out of my embrace. “I don’t need anyone to keep me safe.”

Was he kidding? Now wasn’t exactly the best time to be arguing or be offended that I’d inadvertently challenged his manhood, or fairyhood, or whatever he called it.

Thad!
Elliot yelled inside my head again.
Move it!

One glance over my shoulder revealed the cause of Elliot’s unease. The banshees had set their gazes upon Aiden and me, and their yellow eyes burned in hatred. They flew toward us, their gray, tattered dresses fluttering about them as they joyously prepared to bring death.

I shielded Aiden with my body and erected a wall of ice. The banshees tore through the barrier with their silent screams, and the force of the explosion sent Aiden and me careening away from the exit.

As I struggled to get to my feet, one of the screaming dark fairies spasmed in pain. Pierce, who still appeared wobbly from the initial onslaught, unleashed a thousand volts of electricity that instantly fried her. She disappeared in a puff of fog.

The remaining banshees howled in silent grief. Two of them converged on my older brother, clawing at his skin. As Pierce fought them off with my father’s assistance, the three remaining dark fae advanced toward where I crouched over Aiden.

Before I could summon my powers again, a sudden rush of wind slammed into the banshees. They crashed into the table that had been set for our feast. Adam Proctor stood to my left, his hands outstretched. He’d tapped into his air abilities to keep them pinned against the wall.

Roots exploded through the wood flooring. They wrapped around the trapped banshees’ necks and snaked across their open mouths, gagging them and rendering them unable to access their power. Adam’s mother, Camille, who had the ability to manipulate plants, had evidently made use of the trees that grew around Blackmoor Manor to silence them.

I focused my attention on where Pierce and my father battled the remaining two banshees. In his stone form, my father yanked them off Pierce and hurled them across the room. The shadows along the wall formed into a giant black spike that skewered them both. Black blood gurgled out of their mouths as they writhed in their death throes.

Mason stood off to the side, a wicked grin on his face. His shadow weaving talents had evidently grown since the last time I’d been home. Although his projections quickly reverted to their harmless form, he’d managed to manipulate the shadows long enough to do what needed to be done.

“Holy shit!” Pierce said, as the banshees’ corpses turned to mist. His voice sounded tinny, and there was a constant ringing in my ears, a side effect of a banshee attack. “That was fucking awesome.”

I glared at my brother, as did most everyone else in the room.

“Are you serious, Pierce?” Drake asked. Whenever he was rattled, his Texas twang often made it difficult to understand him. “We were just attacked by a whole mess o’ pissed off ghouls. I wouldn’t exactly be callin’ that awesome.”

“Banshees,” Mrs. Proctor corrected.

“Whatever,” Drake said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. His obvious dislike for Camille Proctor couldn’t be more evident. After all, she had been the one who’d attempted to wipe his memories a few weeks ago. “My point is this is about as far from awesome as anythin’ can get in my book. First a vampyre and now a gaggle o’ banshees. What’s next?”