“Bloody hell,” he muttered, lifting her and setting her on the edge of the bed. He tossed the duvet aside and stood completely naked. He had no shame in his body, but then why would he? He was an angel, for god’s sake. Well, had been six months ago.
He grabbed his jeans and T-shirt from the chair near the bed. “I thought something was wrong. I could feel it in my gut.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, grabbing her own clothing. She supposed she couldn’t be annoyed when she’d had the same feeling, yet kept her mouth shut as well. Wishful thinking for a happily ever after, she supposed.
“I didn’t want ye to worry.” He dressed quickly and she knew his mind was already on the plan ahead. The warrior had returned. But Cristian didn’t have the powers of a warrior any longer and she feared he’d get his stubborn ass killed.
“We need to slow down… think things through.” Ashley reached out, grabbing his hand, desperate for his touch. She didn’t want this time with him to end, not yet, not ever.
His steel eyes met hers. “We don’t have time to think things through.”
“Cristian, please—”
He jerked her forward, into his hard embrace, for one brief moment she savored the feel of his arms wrapped tightly around her. When he held her, she felt as if nothing could taint them. “I know yer worried, but we can’t have a normal life until I destroy the demon.”
He was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. “Maggie said they had returned home.” For a heartbeat, he didn’t speak, mulling things over, planning. She pushed away from him and headed toward the dresser. She couldn’t think rationally when they touched.
“Makes sense, I suppose,” he finally muttered.
She pulled open the top drawer and glanced back. He was rubbing the dark scruff along his chin, deep in thought.
“So… where were they born? Are we headed to Devon’s home?”
“No and no,” Cristian said.
Ashley frowned. “What do you mean?”
Cristian sat on the wing back chair near the bed and pulled on his black boots. “No, we’re not going to Devon’s home. He isn’t the threat. If yer worried over his welfare, send Camile to check on him.”
“And what was the other no for?”
“Yer not going with me.”
“Hell I am.” She snatched the anointed dagger Camile had given her as a gift for Christmas and wrapped the sheath around her thigh. “You’re not leaving me behind.” She strolled toward him, chin high, daring him to deny her.
Cristian surged to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at her. But she saw the softness in his eyes. He might pretend to be gruff and uncompromising, but she knew he’d rather have her safe with him, than on her own, doing only God knew what.
With a grin, Ashley stood on tiptoe, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Won’t work anymore, that glare you do so well.”
He growled low in his throat. She pressed a kiss to his lips, soothing the beast.
“So, where are we going?” she asked, dropping to the flats of her feet.
He drew her close and pressed his mouth to hers for another kiss. “To find my father. The prodigal son is returning home.”
Surprised, she stepped back. “We’re headed to your family estate?”
He nodded as he moved to the closet.
Hell, they were truly going to confront the demon. Cristian had tried to destroy his father twice now without success. Her heart hammered madly, fear bitter on her tongue. Now, he was human, his powers weakened. What the hell did he expect to do? She watched him open the closet door and pull out that silver, highland sword that had been his since he was born. He meant business.
“He’ll kill you.” She whispered her fears so low he shouldn’t have been able to hear her, but some of his powers had obviously remained.
He sighed as he pulled out another sword, this one gold and silver. Devon’s sword. The very sword Devon had sacrificed himself with. Slowly he turned, the sword flashing under the low light of the lamp.
There was a hard determination in his gaze. “Not if I kill him first.”
****
The sun was just rising as Camile pulled onto the property of Crestmoore Manor. Slowing toward the edge of the circular drive, she studied her surroundings with wary eyes. Nothing looked suspicious. Typical quiet estate catering to the rich.
She put the car in park and took a moment to gather herself. Still, she could sense the residue magic pulsing around her. It wasn’t strong, but strong enough to know that someone with powers had been here. They’d left behind a trail.
She shifted her gaze from the drive to the mansion. Impressive, to say the least. But then she’d known Devon’s family had money. Still, it was beyond weird to think that over a hundred years ago, this had been Devon’s home. A place where his family had lived and played. Until his need for revenge had gotten in the way. Funny what basic human emotions could do to a person. She’d thought that Cristian and Devon had finally put aside their differences before Devon had died.
But if they were friends… allies… why would Devon return here? A place full of death and bad memories. His family had struggled and died here. There was no need to return. She shivered, despite the warm spring air blowing gently through the open windows. Damn it all, she blamed herself. What had she done wrong…again? The spell should have worked.
Obviously, it hadn’t. Maggie had visited Ashley and proclaimed that Devon had returned home. But it certainly could have been a ruse. They’d been tricked many times before. The only thing that mattered at the moment was finding out if Devon had truly returned, or if he’d moved onto heaven.
She pushed open the car door and stepped into the early morning sunshine. Beautiful, really, with wide green lawns, blooming daffodils and tulips in manicured gardens. Some rich, old git had bought the place years back, or so she’d heard. Devon’s family had scattered, some dying, some fading into history, but most had been murdered.
She shivered as she started up the drive, the crunch of gravel underfoot unnaturally loud in the quiet morning. With a practiced eye, she scanned the flat facade of the mansion, looking for movement or any aura of the supernatural. It wasn’t until she rounded the corner and headed toward the front door that she spotted the figure standing in the front garden.
Camile paused in indecision. She knew immediately the woman was no threat. There was no magic coming from her petite body. A gardener then? She hesitated, then stepped off the drive and onto a footpath that led past red tulips and into the heart of the garden. It was difficult to tell how old the gardener was, for a large hat covered her silky, black hair. But Camile didn’t notice any gray in the strands and her movements were smooth and quick as she pruned the dead heads off brilliant yellow daffodils. The red sundress she wore was definitely of younger fashion and her body was slim and healthy.
In the distance, water pattered from a fountain, the sound like chimes on the wind. A picturesque scene, but there was a darkness here as well. A history of death and destruction. She could feel the heaviness surrounding the estate. Did the gardener even realize where she stood? Or was she another clueless human?
The woman turned, as if sensing her approach. Camile paused, surprised. Not some ancient crone, but a young Asian woman with skin that practically glowed and eyes such a rich brown that a person could get lost within them.
For one brief moment Camile found it hard to breathe. A familiar warmth swept through her body, something she’d tried to ignore in the past, something that she couldn’t deny now. She flattened her hand to her rapidly beating heart, attempting to regain control of breathing.
“Can I help you?” The woman lowered her pruning shears, watching Camile with an obvious wariness.
Her heart stuttered back to life. Camile flushed, and looked away. “I…uh… I’m trying to find someone.”
“Yeah?” The woman stepped closer, into a patch of sun. The light hit her face, making her almost et
hereal. Stunning, to say the least. What was she doing in the middle of this English garden? An unwelcome awareness swept through Camile. A feeling she hadn’t experienced in some time, yet at the moment, didn’t want to ignore.
“Here,” she blurted, stepping closer and shoving the picture in front of the woman’s face. It was a photo Ashley had taken after they’d brought Devon back to life. She’d wanted to see if he’d show up in a picture, if he truly was real.
She barely noticed the woman’s reaction, too focused on her scent. She smelled like the daffodils she was pruning…but something more… something warm… vanilla. She smelled lovely. Her friends had said she was merely experimenting last time she had fallen for a woman. But here… now, Camile knew she could no longer deny her attraction.
The woman’s lips grew tight, wariness replaced with anger. “Yeah.” She shoved the picture back toward Camile. “I’ve seen him.”
Her unsettling feelings disappeared, replaced with pure shock. Devon had returned. Her knees grew weak, but there was nothing to lean against and so she stood her ground. It was her fault…all her fault. Somehow, someway, she’d done the spell wrong. A thick lump of emotion clogged her throat and made her voice come out gruff. “Is he here now?”
The woman dropped her pruning shears into a bag and glared up at Camile. “No, the bastard abducted my friend and stole my car.”
That didn’t sound like Devon. Camile frowned, confused. Unless… Devon had changed. When the demon had taken over his body six months ago, Devon had turned into Evil Devon. Was he again? “Maybe you have the wrong person.”
She tugged off her gloves and dropped them into the basket. “No, it was him. I know it. In fact, the police are already searching for them.”
“Police? Them?” Camile squeaked. “Balls.” That wasn’t good, wasn’t good at all. They couldn’t get the government involved. Lord, her aunt was going to kill her. And who the hell was them? “I need to know everything.”
She sighed, tucking a lock of silky black hair behind her ear. “Your friend showed up completely naked, stumbling around the garden like a drunken fool.” She glanced toward the manor, as if checking to make sure they were still alone. “Ellie was going to take care of him. Last I saw, she was tearing out of the parking lot with the guy in my car.”
Devon was gorgeous and charming, perhaps this Ellie had fallen for him. Camile shoved the photo into her back pocket. “How do you know she didn’t merely wish to go with him?”
She glared up at Camile. “Because he had a pistol in his hand. I saw it before he got in the car.”
The words sank into her gut like a lead weight. Perhaps Evil Devon was back after all. Oh God, Devon had an innocent hostage. Just bleedin wonderful. This wasn’t good, wasn’t good at all. Camile shifted, raking her hands through her hair. She itched to leave, but knew she had to get as much information as possible. “Any idea of where they went?”
“East, that’s all I saw.” She sniffed, as if fighting back the tears and Camile had the sudden and insane urge to comfort her. “Ellie was merely supposed to get rid of him before our boss noticed. She never should have confronted him alone.”
Why did she have a feeling there was more to this story? “Not a fun guy, your boss?”
She shrugged. “More like a complete and total wanker.”
“Why’s that?”
She paused, hesitant. “We’ve had… a lot of odd things happen here and he tends to blame Ellie.”
Warning bells rang through her head. If the man was blaming this Ellie, maybe there was a reason. “Odd?”
She sighed. The woman was loyal, that was obvious. Camile wasn’t sure if she should be exasperated or impressed. “Listen, I need to know everything, understand? If you want to find your friend, tell me all. We don’t have time for secrets.”
She pressed her lips tightly together, anger flashing in those dark eyes. Instead of finding her reluctance to speak annoying, Camile found her stubbornness…cute. Gah, what was her problem? She pressed her hand to her forehead, so not needing to be attracted to this woman right now. She had too many other things to worry about than the confusing state of her sexual orientation.
“Odd things,” the woman finally said. “Visitors think they see ghosts. Things have disappeared. People have started fights for no real reason.”
A shiver of unease raced over her skin. She glanced at the manor, searching the windows for unseen spirits, anything supernatural that might send normal humans over the edge. “A haunted house?”
She didn’t respond. So, the woman didn’t quite believe in ghosts, or perhaps she just wasn’t accepting of the supernatural. “How long have you worked here?”
She picked up her bag of gardening supplies. “About a year.”
A white petal, from the apple tree across the garden, landed in the woman’s dark hair. “And how long has it been going on?”
“The odd things? About…” She frowned. “Three months.” Her cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. “Since Ellie started working here.” She released a manic laugh, a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s why the owner claims she’s cursed.”
Unable to stop herself, Camile reached out, brushing the petal from the woman’s hair. The strands were as silky smooth as she’d imagined. The woman froze, her lips parting on a gasp of surprise…but dare she hope she saw something more in her dark eyes? Camile dropped her arm to her side, feeling the heat of embarrassment rush up her neck and into her face.
“A petal. Sorry.”
So, the woman believed in ghosts, she just didn’t want to. Meanwhile, Camile knew better than to disregard the idea of a curse. And she knew when something seemed too coincidental, it probably wasn’t. Was this Ellie a supernatural being? She wouldn’t be surprised. Perhaps Devon had known this Ellie was special and that’s why he’d forced her to escort him.
“Thanks for the information, I appreciate it.” Camile turned and started toward her car, not sure how to proceed now that Devon had a traveling companion. One thing was sure, she needed to get as far away as possible from the gardener and the confusing emotions she stirred within.
“Wait a minute!” the woman called out. “You can’t be seriously thinking of leaving me here?”
Camile quickened her steps, not even daring to glance back. “Uh, yeah.”
“Well, too bad. I’m going with you. Ellie’s my best friend and I’m not letting anything happen to her.”
Camile didn’t have the heart to tell her that something might have already happened to her friend, depending on whether Devon was good or bad this time. “Listen, you don’t understand, this could get crazy.” Camile turned, finally facing her.
The woman rushed toward her with a ferocity that impressed Camile. “No, you don’t understand. I’m going and if not, be prepared to have the police tailing you, because I will call and let them know about your little visit.” She dropped her bag of supplies. “I’m Miranda, by the way.”
The thought of being stuck in the car with Miranda thrilled and frightened her at the same time. How could she ignore her feelings with the woman so close by? Maybe Miranda and this Ellie were dating. It would certainly make Camile’s life easier if they were. “No. Not going to happen.”
They’d be together for hours. Camile swallowed hard. Perhaps Miranda wasn’t even gay. Maybe she’d misjudged her reaction when they’d touched. But Miranda didn’t seem to care and started toward the passenger’s side.
“Fine.” Camile reached into her jean pocket for her phone. “But let’s make it clear, I’m in charge.”
The woman rolled her eyes and sashayed toward the passenger’s side. Camile gritted her teeth, annoyance fighting attraction. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, but Miranda had already settled in the passenger seat.
Camile dialed her cell, watching Miranda the entire time, unsure if she should trust the woman. There was no magic coming from her aura. What harm could a little human do? She pressed the phone to her ea
r, knowing she was going to regret her actions. The question was, when?
“Hello?”
“Hey, I’m here,” Camile said into the phone.
“You find him?”
“Sort of. Looks like your vision was right.” Camile sighed. “Devon was here, but he left and he didn’t leave alone.”
Chapter 11
Day five and the car had been towed.
“Wow, this trip is getting better and better,” Ellie muttered. “Seriously, it should be in guide books.”
They were stranded. Stranded in a town that was apparently host of the Witch Olympics. Sure, they were mostly dead witches now, but the survivors could return with reinforcements. They should be getting out of there as soon as possible, which made it difficult with no car.
So, why did she barely care? Why did she feel refreshed, full of energy, of life? Why, instead of looking for possible enemies, was she admiring the way the ivy grew up the rock homes and the pink flowers spilled over the hanging baskets, providing color to the drab, beige backgrounds?
“You’re sure it was here, parked in this very spot?” Devon asked.
Ellie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Yeah, perhaps she’d gone off the deep end for a brief moment; how else could she explain sleeping with Devon in the middle of the woods only moments after killing a gaggle of witches? But she’d retained enough of her right mind to remember where they’d left the car.
The few automobiles parked along the curb were definitely unfamiliar. There wasn’t sign of a bus stop on the main road. Time to face facts. They were stuck. She sighed, raking her hands through her hair, attempting to regain some order to the unruly locks.
As sad as it was, the car was the least of her worries. What had she been thinking to have sex with Devon? She hadn’t been thinking, she’d been feeling. Pure attraction. Deep, unbidden, undeniable attraction. Hell, her body still buzzed from his touch and as much as she tried to ignore him, she felt strangely connected to the man, as if there was a rope between them. Or chain. Ball and chain.