The Wizard King (3 page)

Gen bit her lip. As much as she wanted to see
him
again, she knew what a bad idea it was. The man hated her, and Gen didn’t blame him one iota. Her family had done nothing but cause his grief for years. “Then wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” Kerry’s tone was full of doubt. “If you don’t come back in two days I’m calling in the cavalry. And I expect phone calls.”

The cavalry being Annabelle. “As you wish.” Gen smiled, wishing she could shed some of the mannerisms that made her seem so uptight. But as a member of the Godwins she’d had those affectations drilled into her since she was a child. It was expected of her, to be the pretty porcelain doll her father paraded in front of his blue-blooded wizard friends.

When she’d seen the first Harry Potter movie, she’d gasped at the Malfoy family. They had been eerily familiar, right down to their disdain for mundanes. And when she’d realized what she, and the rest of her family, actually were she’d offered herself to the Goddess before her father could force another unwanted choice upon her.

She smiled as a feeling of warmth swept over her. The Goddess had accepted her plea and protected her from the Godwin men and their evil machinations. But before that, it had been her mother who’d protected her.

Her mother had taken care of her, had loved her when no one else did. She cast a spell that hid Gen’s nature from the rest of the family, with unintended consequences that wound up nearly costing Chris Beckett his life.

Because of her mother the Registry hadn’t picked up on what Davis and the rest of the Godwins had become until it was almost too late to stop them.

Her mother’s spell, driven by love and the desire to protect Genevieve, had spilled over onto the entire bloodline. It had hidden their warlock status from everyone, much to Davis Godwin’s delight. He hadn’t been certain why his wizard wife, cowed by his evil, had cast the spell, but he hadn’t questioned the gift. Davis Godwin, his daughter and his sons had been listed as wizards in the Registry until Chris, Daniel, Zach and Gareth Beckett had questioned just how Cole had been able to cast some of the spells he had. They had ripped away the veil her mother had put in place all those years ago, bearing the family to the court’s scrutiny and eventual expulsion.

But not before Cole Godwin had almost become the wizard king.

When Davis Godwin realized Cole was up for the position of king, he was beyond ecstatic. A warlock on the throne of the wizards would have given them both power beyond reckoning. Gen had tried to stop them both, but they’d hurt her, stopped her by ambushing her.

Her wrist still ached in cold weather.

Now, it was time for Gen to confront her eldest brother and biggest bane of her existence. Hugh had been horrible as a child, and not just to Gen. His treatment of Kerry, touching her when she had no desire for him, cemented Gen’s desire to see her brother destroyed.

“Hey.” Kerry placed her scarred hand on Gen’s shoulder. It was damaged from Davis Godwin’s unholy knife, another thing Gen and her brothers had to pay for. “Keep your cell phone on.”

Gen nodded. “I will, I swear.” She didn’t tell her new friend that the GPS locator they’d downloaded wouldn’t work where Gen was headed. That would only cause Kerry to worry even more. “I’ll call you when I get there and when I’m on my way back.”

Kerry nodded and let go. “I worry about you.”

“And I, you.” Gen didn’t want Kerry to know that she’d accepted her offer of a place to stay more for Kerry’s safety than anything. The Godwin men had gone after the mundane solely because they believed she was Daniel Beckett’s mate, hoping that by killing her they’d drive Daniel’s wolf, and thus Daniel, insane.

Because of that, she wouldn’t put it past her brothers to try and kill Kerry again. She was the most vulnerable, and if she wasn’t Daniel’s mate Gen would eat her scratchy tweed jacket. “I’m off.”

“Bring back Dunkin’ Donuts on the way home, would you?”

Gen grinned. Her roommate had an unhealthy obsession with Boston Kreme donuts. “I will.” She grabbed the handle of her overnight bag. “Kerry?”

“Hmm?” Kerry’s attention was already returning to her computer.

“Be careful.” She wanted to make her roommate stay in the apartment, but Kerry would never go for it. The nurse was very dedicated to her patients.

“You too, Gen.” Kerry shot her a fond smile and returned her attention to the computer.

Gen quietly let herself out of the apartment, squinting at the brightness of the early morning sun. The urge to visit Gareth, to see how he was doing, was strong, but Gen resisted. The man had made it more than clear he wouldn’t welcome her attentions, and Gen had bigger fish to fry than a wizard who didn’t want her.

She loaded her suitcase into her SUV, struggling to lift it into the back. She’d given up the luxury sports car when she left her family, and the used Jeep was all she could afford now.

Hecate’s Own didn’t make a great deal of money, especially warlock Own. It was a calling, not a career, and Gen had to find ways to pay her bills yet still hunt for the bad guys.

It took about eight hours to arrive at her destination. She hadn’t dared to fly; her brothers would think nothing of pulling a plane full of innocent people out of the air just to get to her. Gen drove into the more opulent sections just outside Pittsburgh, her senses on high alert for any sign of her brothers. If they caught her now, tired and close to their territory, things would go poorly for her.

When she arrived at her hotel without incident she breathed a sigh of relief. Either they didn’t know she was here, which was good, or they were off doing something, which was bad.

But Gen had an appointment, one that couldn’t be put off no matter how exhausted she was. She checked into her room, freshened up as quickly as possible, and headed for the mansion.

Please let my brothers not be there.
If they were, if her contact had chosen to side with them, Gen didn’t know what she would do.

She pulled into the circular driveway of the mansion, aware she was running perilously close to being late. Checking her lipstick one last time in the rearview mirror, Gen grabbed hold of her purse and made her way to the front door. She pressed the bell, trying not to roll her eyes as Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” sounded from inside the house. She would have done better to make her doorbell Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue in D minor”. It would suit the woman far more than the quiet, soothing tones of Pachelbel.

The door opened, revealing a man Gen knew well. “Filbert.”

The butler inclined his stately head. “Ms. Godwin.”

“She’s expecting me.” She took a step forward, knowing full well Filbert could stop her from entering the house with a single word, and unless Gen had reason to believe her gifts as an Own were needed she would be unable to enter.

Filbert stepped back, much to her relief. “She’s in the front parlor, Ms. Godwin.”

Gen made her way toward the one person in her entire family who might be willing to help her. She opened the door to the parlor and stepped inside, hiding her wince as Filbert firmly shut the door behind her.

She took in the woman’s appearance, the tightly wound gray chignon, the high-necked blouse and old-fashioned skirt. Sipping tea by the fireplace, back straight and head held high, she was every inch a lady. Gen felt like a grub next to the elegance of the woman seated in the wing-back chair before her. She always had.

“Genevieve.”

Gen bowed her head. “Aunt Vivian.”

When those cold, steel gray eyes turned on her, Gen knew she’d lost the gamble. “Why are you here?”

“To ask for your assistance in hunting down Hugh and Arthur.”

Aunt Vivian’s expression didn’t change. The matriarch of the Godwin clan merely studied her with all the affection of an iceberg. “As all three of you are warlocks, I hardly think it’s my place to help any of you.”

She’d feared this reaction. The bad blood between warlocks, wizards and witches usually kept them from cooperating with one another, but she’d hoped the ties of blood would have made her aunt react differently, if only to remove the stain from the family name. As a wizard, her aunt was powerful, especially in her own home. “I’ve been tasked with bringing them both to justice.”

Aunt Vivian’s brows rose. “By whom?”

“The Goddess herself.”

Aunt Vivian turned back toward the fireplace with a sniff of disdain. “A warlock Own. Such a thing is practically unheard of.”

Hardly, but Gen knew better than to correct the prejudices of her aunt. It would not get her any closer to her goal of obtaining Aunt Vivian’s aid. Trying to explain to her how not all warlocks aligned themselves with demons would do nothing. A magic user whose power came from an outside force rather than from within, most warlocks wound up seduced by demons while still children. Some, like Gen herself, resisted the persistent demonic whispers and chose other paths. A warlock could choose an elemental focus, a divine focus, or even another magic user to bond with, not that Aunt Vivian would believe her. Not after the shame Davis and Cole had brought to the family. “I wish to bring Hugh and Arthur to justice for what they have done.”

“Then you will do it without our aid. Find some of your own kind, girl. You are no longer my concern.” Aunt Vivian waved her hand, and the door into the hallway opened once more.

“Aunt Vivian—”

“Do not call me that, warlock.” The anger and hatred on Vivian’s face had Gen taking a step back. “You are no longer welcome in this home, and no Godwin will render you aid, now or in future. Not if they wish to continue to be considered Godwins.”

“But—”

“Warlocks are the spawn of evil, and I will
not
have them in my family!” Aunt Vivian pounded her closed fist on the arm of her chair. “You and your entire branch are a disgrace, and should you kill one another off I will not shed a single tear. Be aware, you are banned from this house forevermore.”

Gen bowed her head in defeat. There would be no reasoning with Vivian, but at least she was allowing Gen to leave unmolested. The gun was not necessary. “Yes, Matriarch Godwin.”

“Hmph.” Vivian returned her gaze to the fire. “Leave, now, while the affection I once held for you still allows for it.”

Gen didn’t wait to hear anything more. She fled the mansion, eager to get away from the head of the Godwin clan while she still could.

At least one good thing had come out of her abortive trip. Vivian Godwin would no more help Hugh and Arthur than she would Gen. That was something, at least. And as strongly as she felt about warlocks, she would have taken precautions against hexes or influences that could sway her to aid them anyway.

Gen kept repeating that to herself as she made her way back to her hotel room. She prayed what she believed was the truth. She was running out of options, and soon she’d have to sit back and wait for Hugh or Arthur to make a move. The thought terrified her.

If they made the first move, one of the Becketts would suffer, she was sure of it. There was one last thing Gen could try, one last bastion of hope. One that would cause Gen pain, but it would be worth it. There was always a price to pay.

Gen had to commune with the Goddess.

Chapter Two

The king was dead.

The wizard king was dead, and now Gareth was—

“Sire?”

Fucked. Well and truly fucked without lubrication. On top of it all, Gen was still missing.

Double fuck.

Gareth tried not to snarl at the man’s simpering tone. If the guy shoved his nose any further up Gareth’s ass he’d be able to sniff Gareth’s pastrami on rye. “What?”

The long-suffering sigh as the man took a seat on Gareth’s couch tempted him to do horrible, terrible things. He sounded like this was such a chore for him.

Like Gareth
wanted
the fucking job of king of the wizards. Stupid seers and their spells. What the hell did they know? All Gareth wanted from life was to help his father with his graphic design business and live a quiet, peaceful life with his mate by his side.

Instead, he got his door pounded on at oh dark hundred by a guy who barely came up to his shoulder and insisted on calling him
sire
.

“Sire, there are arrangements to be made. We must move you to court as quickly as possible, so the transfer of power will be seamless. The ritual that will initiate you as king must be performed at the next full moon.”

Gareth understood rituals and timing. As a wizard, his power relied on them. “The next full moon is in three days.” Not a lot of time to prepare.

“And if we don’t perform it then, we must wait for the next full moon. Your crowning must have the approval of the gods.”

Gareth glanced toward his study, to where the Beckett spell still waited for Gen to arrive. “I’m in the middle of a ritual myself.”

The man, who’d introduced himself as Abraham McDorman, the court’s steward, grimaced. “I’m afraid your ritual must wait. The king ritual must take precedence.”

Like hell it did. There was no way anyone was interfering with his spell to call his mate to him. “You understand I’m a Beckett.”

McDorman nodded. “Yes, sire.”

“Then you also understand the Beckett curse?”

McDorman’s expression turned stricken. “I’m… No, sire. I’m afraid I don’t.”