Married (20 page)

“We do not acknowledge the relationship. He wanted to be Father, and his magic is stronger, but I was already blooded and I wouldn’t give up my position. He came here, only to find Joseph in his way. He made trouble.”

“I can imagine.” Silviu gave up on the tea, placing the cup on the table. He slid to the edge of his uncomfortable chair. “Then what?”

“Joseph called me in to diffuse the situation, but Graves turned his sights on me.”

“The cause of the original problem.”

Muso looked away from Silviu, grimacing but nodding. “He tried to push me, all but challenged me. I had brought my son, Jerin.”

Silviu waited a moment, but the other man remained silent, lines deepening steadily around his mouth and eyes. In seconds, the Ngozi Father aged a hundred years. Gently, Silviu prodded. “Muso?”

“My son spent time with Graves and…I don’t know what happened between them. I found my son in tears, running through the house, the one we used to own rather than this…” Muso looked around with disgust, “
hotel
.”

“They’d fought?”

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me. He pulled away, told me he was sorry he’d shamed me, then an hour later…” Muso’s skin paled until it resembled cold ashes. “We found him hanging in his bedroom. He was seventeen.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” It was the word ‘shame’ that had suspicions solidifying in Silviu’s mind. He’d spent enough time in Africa to know what was acceptable in the majority of the continent’s cultures and what was still utterly taboo. He also had a good grasp on Graves’ preferences. “Do you think Graves—”

“I think he touched my son. Forced him or seduced him, I don’t know. What else could he have done that was so terrible Jerin would believe I’d ever be ashamed of him?” Muso spun on Silviu with a haggard face. “Graves couldn’t strike at me directly, so he targeted my son.”

Silviu could only shake his head. “I’m sorry for your loss, Father Ngozi.”

“Graves and I fought, but then I remembered he is my brother and stopped before I killed him. I left England. I swore I’d never return to this country. I swore I’d never forgive my brother.”

Silviu clenched his fists, hidden from view by the tabletop. “I think he’s trying to do the same to my betrothed. He’s aggressively suggestive toward her. He’s seeking power over her.”

“Stay close to her, Silviu.” Muso thumped the table. “Graves is strong and dangerous.”

“You didn’t remove him from his position.”

“I stripped him of all the power I could. I only left him here because this branch needed someone to lead them and I know him. I know how to provoke him, how to break him, how to manipulate him and how to get around him. We grew up in the same house. We were raised with the same values and morals and—”

“And Graves has turned his back on them, Muso.” Silviu leaned forward, trying to communicate his earnestness. “You’re underestimating him.”

Muso’s jaw firmed. His rant was a snarl between thinned lips. “I know my brother and I intend to use that knowledge to take him down. How should he be allowed to have a wife, when mine died and I was forced to replace her with a Njele, to form a cold alliance with the witches below the Sahara? Why should he be allowed to have a
son
, when he took mine and broke him like an unwanted toy?”

Silviu leaned back in his chair, drawing a deep breath. He gave Muso time to settle down and find a sense of calm. As soon as he saw the other man relax, he brought up his next point. “Are you sure Joseph Ngozi left his position willingly?”

“How else would Graves have gotten it?”

“I heard a rumor…” Silviu would be damned if he told of Eliasz’s talent. That was his ace in the hole. He waited for Muso to look toward him before he continued. “I heard that Joseph was killed.”

Shock washed over Muso’s face and Silviu regretted bearing the bad tidings. The man had already suffered through the death of his son, only to find he must face the death of his nephew as well.

Muso sputtered. “But, then, where is his wife, Chelsea? I’ve seen his daughter, Tulah, but—”

“I don’t know,” Silviu said quietly, denying the surprise tearing through him. “I wasn’t aware of Tulah’s connection to this issue. She only said she was a Family member, not that her father used to lead the branch.”

Muso rubbed his eyes. “I told Graves to make certain she was here. I was afraid that he’d married her off and I wanted to see that she was well. I left my own wife at home but I demanded Tulah’s presence. God forgive me.”

“None of the men are married?”

Muso growled. “I’ve forbidden it. They have chosen to follow Graves and have given him their loyalty over me. You should have seen how they behaved at the meeting I called upon my arrival. Graves has cost me my witches
and
my son.
None
of them shall have sons of their own!”

“But you allowed the women to marry?” A cold knot began to form in Silviu’s stomach. He’d met the Ngozi Father many times, but never had the man ever shown such bitterness. A predictable, stable man was being pushed to the edge of his control. Silviu didn’t know whether to stop it or encourage it, but he certainly he wanted his loved ones well away from Muso’s breakdown.

“What do the women matter?” Muso surged to his feet. “Could this be true? My nephew—”

Mentally, Silviu shrugged. He figured if he was in for a penny he was in for pound. “I can tell you Tulah is a prisoner here and mistreated by Graves. I’ve been told that she was ordered to attend the ceremony, but I don’t think she was here before you gave the order for her presence.”

“What makes you think this?”

“My betrothed and my sister have both spent time with her.” Silviu paused, then went on. “And I, myself, saw how Graves treats her. He was very possessive of her body, when he greeted me and Eliasz Levy upon our arrival.”

“If I find out he murdered both my son and my nephew, I will kill him.” Muso stood rigid, every muscle pulled tight beneath his expensive suit. Memories glazed his eyes while his lips pulled into an unhappy curve and anger raced over his face. Silviu could relate, picturing the gleam in Graves’ eye as he’d stared at Georgie. Though he knew his betrothed was capable of taking care of herself, he couldn’t allow her to be placed in danger.

Silviu studied the man a moment longer, then made his decision and leaped into the fire. “How can I help you, Muso?”

Chapter Seventeen

Tulah

“What are you doing?”

Tulah managed to swallow her startled scream but her body jerked hard enough to send her forehead into the windowpane. A glancing blow, no such luck as to break the glass, but Graves had probably considered that anyway, she thought bitterly, and spelled the upper story windows as he had the ground floor exits.

The sleek black cat on her lap dug her claws into Tulah’s thigh, then immediately snuggled closer, mewling with sympathy. Tulah stroked her mother’s head and shot Adam a rueful smile. She tried not to flush as memories heated her body.

“I was watching the sun set,” she told him.

He glanced out of the window at the murky and unimpressive horizon. Storm clouds had gathered, bloated without release, muting the golds and corals until they were dirty pastel mockeries of themselves.

His brows lifted. “Everyone is downstairs, mingling before dinner.”

She grimaced. “I know.”

Adam crowded her into the corner as he settled next to her on the ragged window seat. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, my ribs hardly hurt at all.”

“That’s not what I…” Adam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Tulah…”

The cat on her lap extended her claws in an unsubtle reminder for Tulah to take her opportunities when they were presented to her. Obedient, she reached out to lay her fingers against the back of Adam’s wrist. “I’m fine. How are you? Are you upset with me? I’ve barely seen you since—”

“Confused, maybe, but not—” He caught her hand, played with her fingers. “Tell me about your position in this Family, honey. Help me understand why they…”

His voice faltered, his hand tightened. Sparks of heat set her wrist to tingling. Tulah slowly leaned against Adam’s shoulder, uncertain of her welcome, but bolstered when he didn’t shift away.

“I have no position here, Adam. Years ago, I did, but now…”

“You’re Graves’ prisoner.”

Bitterness swelled until her throat burned and her belly contracted. She opened her mouth to simply agree, but truth poured out before she could stop it. “He wants me to be his spy. He thinks Muso wants me to be his mistress and Graves is ready to hand me over to him, make me fuck my own uncle so I can uncover his secrets.”

She felt the jolt that went through him. Her sensitive ears heard the slight strain in his voice when Adam spoke. “Uncle?”

“Muso is my uncle. My father’s uncle, really.”

Adam exhaled slowly. “What the hell is going on here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Family as fucked up as yours, honey. No offense.”

“Decades of jealousy and arrogance. I would start at the beginning, but we’d probably miss dinner and bring Graves’ wrath down on our heads.”

Adam leaned back against the glass, tugging her closer as he said, “We have plenty of time.”

She let more of her weight rest against him, soaking in his warmth and the connection to another human, as minor as it might be. The heaviness she’d been lugging over her shoulders shifted, and she realized she wanted to tell him. Maybe needed to tell him.

It might even help her cause.

She pushed her mother off her lap and shooed the cat down the hall. The last thing she needed was her mum listening in while she opened her heart to Adam Davenold. Chelsea must have understood, because she only threw a single, irritated glance over her shoulder before leaping away.

“I’ll start when I was a teenager.” Daring much, Tulah reached for Adam’s hand and linked their fingers. He squeezed, she relaxed. “My mother was married to my father when she was young, so she’d never really known another Family’s ways. When I was thirteen, my father died.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

Tulah smoothed her cheek against Adam’s shirt sleeve and murmured a meaningless thanks. “Graves banished my mother and me, even knowing that she had no way to support us.”

It took him a moment to reply, but Tulah knew he was listening. His body tensed and his fingers went rigid around hers before relaxing in a rush. “Why banishment? That sounds harsh.”

“It was meant to be. Graves was the one who killed my father, and just kept pouring on the punishment.”

Adam didn’t stiffen again, didn’t tense, yet Tulah felt his alertness spike. His shoulders moved with an indrawn breath. “What reason did Graves give for killing your father?”

The scene swirled before her mind’s eye, catapulting her back to her childhood. She experienced, again, tension thick enough to make every breath a struggle, as if she’d been deep underwater, the rolling power of strong magic coating her senses with pain. Saw again, Charles, arms bulging with effort as he anchored her father to the floor. Heard a final gasp of life and recognized fear in the faces of Family members who couldn’t stop Graves from taking that life.

“My father refused to give him what he wanted. They fought and Graves won.” Tulah blinked back the memories and rushed on, hoping to distract Adam from her father’s death. “Anyway, me and my mum were tossed out into the streets, and my mum’s a patriarchal witch.”

“She didn’t know how to survive.”

Tulah calmed with his words, knowing he wasn’t going to focus on the parts of her story she wasn’t ready to share. She let her voice fill with all the love and admiration she had for her mother. “She learned quickly. She took every job she could find, worked her fingers to the bone to take care of us.”

“A strong woman.” Her admiration must have been contagious, because Adam’s tone held a wealth of it.

“In her way, but still patriarchal. She was still too used to being taken care of.”

Adam tilted her face up to his and searched her eyes. “But you’re not?”

She let a smile curve her lips. “I’m unique. I was given an opportunity that most witches will never know. I was raised in a world between, taught old-style traditions by my mum, yet forced to fully integrate into the modern, everyday world.”

He dipped his head to brush his lips over hers. “Yeah, honey. ‘Unique’ is a real good word for you.”

His praise warmed some cold place deep inside her until Tulah struggled not to flush with pride. His tone implied she had worth and, after the interminable time she’d spent at the Ngozi hotel, it was exactly what she needed to hear. “My mum was working all the time, so I was the one who cooked and cleaned. She’d give me all her money at the end of the week and I’d make sure the bills were paid, the groceries bought.”

“You took care of her.”

“She earned the money, but I did everything else.”

“Must have been hard for a little girl.” Adam smoothed his finger over her cheek. “But you’re strong.”

Again, Tulah felt a glow within her. Her chest loosened, and only then did she realize there’d been a knot lodged between her ribs. She shifted on the seat, inching closer to Adam.

“We were always moving around. Rat infested flats, hotels where the walls crawled with roaches. We never stayed anywhere for too long, those first few years. But then we realized that Graves wasn’t looking for us.”

“He’d already punished you, did the worst thing he could think of.”

Tulah nodded against Adam’s palm as it shifted to cradle her cheek. “I started babysitting for money. When I was old enough, I started working at the grocer’s. With the combined income, we were able save up to rent a house.”

Adam smiled. “A real house.”

“It was small, but clean. A decent neighborhood for the first time ever. And then Graves came.”

Adam pulled Tulah’s legs over his until she was folded against him, forced to put all her weight on him to maintain her perch on the window seat. His arm came around her to support her back, making her feel not quite as alone as she had been. Safe. She wallowed in the sensation for a long moment, breathing in the scent of him, focusing on the feel of his big palm burning through her shirt.