Blood Tied (12 page)

“This is what you have wrought,” said the white-robed figure on the far right. “Dissension among those elected to safeguard magic.”

“It wasn’t my intention,” I said. Although I still distrusted them, I would be a fool not to fear their collective might. “I merely seek answers. That’s all.”

“No, you do not.” This time it was one of the warlocks in the Conclave who spoke. Her voice was stern and cold. “You question us and see us as the enemy. Do not enrage us further by lying.”

“I don’t see you as the enemy,” I replied. I scanned the shadows that hid their faces, hoping for some sign that one of them believed me. “But I do see you as an obstacle.”

“Why?” asked the voice I still couldn’t place. The sleeves of his gray robe moved as he dropped his hands from the folds and let them lie at his sides. It was the first glimpse any of us had ever had of the individuals beneath the robes.

“Well, for one, you hide your identities from us. Why?” I asked.

“To protect us,” he answered, looking down the line of warlocks to his left. “And you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” This time it was my father’s turn to speak. “What do we need to be protected from? And what could you, the most powerful of us all, be frightened of?”

“That is an answer for another day,” he said. “But what I do now, I do for the sake of us all.”

The heads of every single member of the Conclave turned to stare at the wizard who’d stepped out of the line. He pulled back the hood to reveal himself, and a collective gasp filled the room.

Not only was his voice familiar, but so were his gray eyes, white hair, and wizened face. He had come to Havenbridge as a solitary wizard when I was a teenager, and I’d spent many summer evenings at his small cottage discussing magic and the differences between our species. He had been a confidant and trusted advisor to a young warlock trying to find his place in the world.

“Gerald Wa?” Mrs. Stonewall asked. “How can it be? You died.”

“A necessary deception,” he said. “To hide my ascension to the Conclave.”

“Wait a fuckin’ minute,” Drake grumbled. He stormed right up to Gerald despite the protests of everyone and the rigid bodies of the rest of the Conclave. The old wizard held up his hand to silence everyone.

He’d most likely already guessed the cause of Drake’s anger. “You’re the one my aunt Millie fell in love with?”

He nodded. “Millicent was a wonderful woman. Far too good for someone like me.” His gray eyes drooped in sadness. “I was sorry to hear of her passing.”

“Passin’?” Drake asked. Venom dripped from his question. “She was killed. Her throat slashed open because of the vampyre you did nothin’ to stop.”

“Drake,” Mason said. He sprinted to his boyfriend’s side and wrapped his arms around him. “Stop. It’s not his fault.”

“Yes it is!” he railed. He shrugged out of Mason’s embrace and wrapped his fists in Gerald’s robe. The remaining members of the Conclave quickly circled them, but Drake paid them no attention. His anger and grief had evidently swept aside any fear he might have about their powers. “If he’s this all-powerful wizard, he could have done somethin’ to save her. If he hadn’t faked his death, he would have been there. That damned vampyre wouldn’t have gotten close to her.” His voice cracked.

“You’re right,” he said. He wrapped his arms around Drake and allowed him to sob into his chest. “For that I am truly sorry.”

The members of the Conclave, sensing no threat, backed off.

As we stood there watching Drake release his pent-up grief, I wiped tears that suddenly fell from my eyes. I understood his pain. His misery called to the gut-wrenching torment losing my mother had created, and I had yet to fully release. It was like a bottomless pit nothing in the world could ever hope to fill.

Aiden grabbed my hand and offered me a small smile. He most likely saw the newly formed chinks in my emotional armor. I wiped the tears away, hating how vulnerable they made me, but at the same time, spilling them made the hole inside me not as deep as it had been before.

I inhaled the rest of the emotions that threatened to spill out. I wasn’t ready to let go of my restraint. Perhaps I never would, but I took some comfort in the release, and in the strength and reassurance Aiden offered.

SHORTLY AFTER
Drake’s breakdown, the Conclave pulled Gerald aside, and they quietly conversed in the corner. They were no doubt expressing their displeasure that he had revealed himself to the rest of us.

I, for one, was glad he had. Now that the Conclave had a face, it made them less ominous and more like us. It was a bold, logical, and much-needed move.

We still didn’t have the answers we needed from them, but before we could get those, other fences needed mending.

“Are we good?” my father asked the Stonewalls and the Proctors. Since warlocks didn’t apologize, that was as much an act of contrition they were going to get.

The reluctant smile that slid across Mr. Proctor’s face communicated his understanding of that. “Yes,” he said. He shook my father’s hand. “Emotions ran a bit high for all of us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mr. Stonewall replied. “But apology accepted. We can’t afford to be at each other’s throats. Not when we have mutual enemies.”

“I agree,” my father said. He patted Lawrence Stonewall on his back, which elicited a slight scowl. Most wizards found physical contact with others not of their coven uncomfortable.

“Are we good too?” Mason asked Adam, Charlotte, and Miranda.

Adam, who’d developed feelings for Mason during Mabon, smiled at him and nodded. Although Adam clearly had yet to move past those emotions, he respected my brother enough to be happy for him and Drake.

Charlotte replied by giving us all a hug and a kiss.

Miranda snuffed in reply. “You and I are never good.” She crossed her arms and glared at Mason.

He nodded. “Then things are back to normal.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek.

“Gross!” she said as she shoved him away. “I don’t need your cooties.”

“I love his cooties,” Drake replied. Even though his tears had dried, he still hadn’t fully recovered.

“You doing okay?” my father asked. He clearly cared for Drake as if he was one of his own, and I admired him for that. He might be cranky and hot-tempered, but he was a dad first and a warlock second.

Drake nodded. “I will be. I’m still angry. I don’t understand why Gerald deceived my Aunt Millie like that, but there’s one thing bein’ with Mason has taught me. There’s more goin’ on than meets the eye.”

“That’s a healthy attitude to have.”

We turned to find Gerald Wa standing behind us and the Conclave gathered in a line behind him.

“Is the secret meeting over?” Pierce asked.

He sighed and nodded, clearly exasperated. “Finally!” he said with a nod and an eye roll to the robed figures behind him. That was the man I remembered. Gerald had always been a unique wizard. While he could be as cold and logical as the rest of his species, he had a sense of humor I’d never found in another of his kind.

“If I’d known joining the Conclave would involve endless hours of meetings, I would have likely declined.” He put his hand over his mouth in feigned embarrassment and grinned.

The gesture earned him smiles from all of us. Well, everyone except the rest of the Conclave. They were probably frowning beneath those hoods. But that didn’t matter. Revealing who he was had gained everyone’s trust.

That was what we’d needed to unite us.

“Are we going to get our answers now?” I asked.

He shook his head. “You’re still a dog with a bone, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps,” I offered with a grin.

“I’ll give you what answers I can,” he said. “There are limits to what I can reveal, especially in mixed company.” He eyed Drake and Ben.

“We can leave,” Drake offered.

Ben’s only reply was to cross his arms and snort.

“Not necessary,” Gerald replied. He gathered his gray robes about him and gave a slight nod to Aiden. “Your Highness.”

Aiden returned the gesture.

“I hear your realm is under siege,” he said with a frown as he sat in the red wingback chair. “This is unacceptable.”

“I agree,” Aiden replied. An imperial tone settled over his words. “I’d appreciate assistance and whatever answers the Conclave possesses.”

Gerald nodded and waved us closer. “Ask me your questions.”

“You know who the shadow weaver is, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.

His answer caused a stir of voices.

“Why keep this from us?” Mr. Proctor asked.

“Because knowledge is power,” he answered. “Once shared it is out of our control.”

“And ignorance is a weakness,” I replied. He arched a warning eyebrow at me. He might have revealed himself, but he was still a member of the Conclave. It would do me well to remember that. “I’m just saying you’re a wizard. More than most, you understand the importance of facts and dealing with them logically.”

The Stonewalls nodded in agreement.

I decided to push my luck anyway. “Why not simply tell us?”

He sat in silence for a minute. By the way his eyes darted back and forth, I could tell he was communicating with the rest of the Conclave. “To prevent panic.”

“You’re being all mysterious again,” Mason said. If he were any more irritated, he’d be rolling his eyes. Thankfully, he had enough self-control not to do that in front of the Conclave.

“You are part of that reason,” he said.

Mason surveyed the room. “Me?”

Gerald laced his aged fingers in his lap and sat back, regarding Mason carefully. “You are the first shadow weaver since Bartram Kane’s time,” he said with a sigh. “We sensed the power within you at Mabon, and it surprised us. The last time a shadow weaver walked our planet, he created the vampyren and almost killed us all.”

“But I’m not Bartram Kane,” Mason said.

He nodded. “Yet the potential for corruption exists. Every warlock in our long history who has ever tapped into the power of darkness has gone mad.”

There was no use arguing that point. It was a fact, and it was something we had already discussed as a family.

“But what does that have to do with you keeping the identity of the shadow weaver from us?” Pierce asked. “That’s apples and oranges.”

“Perhaps, but we believe the shadow weaver is amassing power. To what end, we are uncertain. But now that he knows another shadow weaver exists, we have no doubt he will attempt to claim you as his own.”

“He’s already tried,” Mason announced with a proud jut to his chin. “And failed.”

“Yes,” Gerald agreed. “But there is more than one way to collect the growing power within you.”

“Like how?” Mason asked, clearly not buying what the old wizard was trying to sell.

“We can only speculate, and speculation isn’t fact. Until we are certain, we will say no more on the subject.” His tone was firm. The decision was final.

“Then can you clear something up for me?” I asked.

“I can try,” he replied, studying me intently.

“What is the relationship between this shadow weaver and Bartram Kane?”

My question visibly startled him, and the Conclave stepped forward.

There was a connection. I knew it. “You’re very careful with your word choice. I remember that about you, and you just told Mason ‘he was the last shadow weaver since Bartram Kane’s time.’ That can only be true if
this
shadow weaver we’re fighting hadn’t come into his powers in the generations since then.”

“Very astute observation,” Mr. Stonewall said. Did he have to sound so impressed? “How is it possible this shadow weaver has been around since the Salem Witch Trials?”

“I will not answer. That knowledge cannot go beyond the Conclave.” He studied the growing concern that filled the room. “However, I cannot stop you from finding out on your own.”

Each member of the Conclave grew stiff. He probably was not supposed to say that. Why did I feel as if Gerald was not only giving us a clue but his blessing to dig deeper?

“I don’t proclaim to understand the Conclave’s annoying need for secrecy,” Aiden said. “But as a member of the Royal Fae Court, I expect concrete answers to my questions, not ambiguity.”

Gerald nodded. “And you will have them,” he said. “The Conclave wishes to continue all cooperative measures with your kingdom.”

While I knew much about the fae in terms of their powers and duties, their history was shrouded in secrecy. At one time, they’d resided on our plane, but something happened that led to the creation of and their move to Otherworld. Aiden’s clenched jaw told me it hadn’t been a joyous event, and that obvious tension still existed between his people and the Conclave.

“Why is this shadow weaver in Otherworld?” Aiden asked. “And what is he doing with the banshees?”

Gerald shook his head. “As you know, we cannot see into or visit your realm without the permission of the king.” When Aiden nodded, I surveyed the expressions of the rest of the protector covens. This was evidently news to them as well. How was it possible the fae kept the Conclave from piercing the veil between the worlds? That told me Aiden and his people held far more power than anyone gave them credit for.

“And with your knowledge of the shadow weaver’s identity, you can venture no guess as to his intentions?”

“Beyond what I’ve already revealed, no.” Gerald punctuated this with a firm shake of his head.

Aiden’s stare turned diamond hard. He either didn’t like the answer or believed he was being lied to. But if Gerald was still the same wizard I’d known, he truly had no answers for Aiden.

I surprised myself when I took Aiden’s hand in mine. I hadn’t planned it, but when I saw he needed the comfort he had previously given to me, I automatically responded.

He gently squeezed my hand in thanks.

The gesture caught Gerald’s attention. He stared for a moment at our joined hands before turning back to me. His wide eyes told me he was surprised, and it wasn’t due to learning my sexual preference.

“We have to do something,” I said. “We can’t just sit around and wait. Let us go to Otherworld. Maybe then we can learn what the shadow weaver is after and find out why it’s speaking in Greek.”