From the Ashes (Witches of The Demon Isle Book 8) (26 page)

“She left.”

“What do you mean, left?” inquired Charlie, behind him.

“I um,” Michael shook his head, ashamed of how dumb he’d been. “I asked Emily to marry me.”

“And her response was to tear out of the driveway?” Charlie responded, baffled.

Michael got to his feet, rubbing his hand over his face.

“I thought Emily was holding in her feelings because she thought it would be too much for me to handle. Because of my
gift,”
he blubbered bitterly.
“But in truth, she blames us. She blames me. She hates this place.” He let out a shaky sigh, unable to ignore the sympathy and sadness pouring out of his siblings at him. “I thought I was doing the right thing by asking her to marry me. I thought it was the only way to show her…” he gave up explaining. Why bother?

“Men,” muttered Lizzy. “You’re so daft sometimes. Of course she hates this place right now, and you just asked her to spend
forever,
here…”

Charlie eyed her, pleading for her to stop before making it worse. She shrugged. But obliged.

Michael lumbered to the top of the stairs at the edge of the porch. If he could go back in time and force his mouth shut. Not ask that moronic question.

Marry me… those two words had just ruined his life.

What the heck possessed him to think asking her to marry him would solve their problems? Or suddenly fix her? It wasn’t out of love between them, it was a desperate attempt to fix something he could not fix. His request unmasking a larger more unsolvable problem.

Marry me…

Worst decision he’d ever made.

“She’ll come back,” insisted Melinda.

“You didn’t hear her. You didn’t feel what she was feeling. It was…” he broke off, the pain of it too much. God, to be able to shut down and tune out. If there was ever a moment he needed to… there wasn’t enough alcohol on the island to black him out long enough to turn this bad nightmare off.

Melinda met him on the porch. “Give her some time. You’re the only guy Emily’s ever been head over heels in love with. She just needs to get away. Mourn. Heal.”

“She doesn’t have her ring. She’s vulnerable. I can’t protect her out there.”

“And she can’t be here right now. And you have to be, Michael. We need you here.” She didn’t want him to get silly notions about running off to follow Emily.

It wasn’t long ago he’d been itching to get off the island.

Finding out their father was alive, and telling Emily he loved her, had kept him here.

Their father was dead.

Emily was gone.

Michael said nothing more, needing to be alone for a while. As if this day could not get any worse, they still had a vampire to vanquish. And not any vampire… William.

Screw this day!

Screw this place!

Screw my life…

Charlie gave him a supportive pat on the arm. Michael shrugged out of it, winding his way back to his bedroom. His and Emily’s room. He’d fallen in love with that idea. No more just him. Or just her. But
them.
Their lives intertwined.

But her coming to the mansion was bred out of tragedy. It wasn’t because of choice. They’d talked about moving in together, but hadn’t made any plans yet. Time and life hadn’t permitted it.

And her time here had been centered around his concern for her, not their future together. And he’d missed the most important signs. The obvious ones. He, who knew Emily Morgan better than anyone else did. He’d failed her again. By not seeing the truth, soon enough.

Michael sank to the floor, unable to feel much of anything except regret. Not going after her felt wrong. Not knowing where she would go, or be, felt wrong. Would she even answer his call? If he gave her a few days alone. It was already driving him crazy, the not knowing…

He refused to think about this situation lingering on for more than a few days. Perhaps she’d come back, fast, realizing she did want to be here, and needed to be here.

Because he could help her and because she did love him. Or she had…

Why doesn’t this day just screw me with a jackhammer!

Oh, wait. Too late! 

Everyone was leaving them.

Them…
he and his siblings.

The only ones who had no choice but to stay.

Because of duty. Because of the blood coursing through their veins. Howard blood.

Another bar went up on his prison cell. Locked in just a little more. The Demon Isle being the prison he might never leave, alive.

CHAPTER 18

Lucas arrived to keep Melinda company while the Charlie, Lizzy, Michael, and Courtney went vampire hunting. He was eager and willing to stay with Melinda, especially if it meant not being involved in any sort of magic.

Everyone tensed when Michael appeared in the kitchen.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he told them all. “Let’s get this vampire hunt done.” His tone was focused, yet flat. And empty.

He was dressed all in black, like the rest of the party, except for Courtney. Charlie and Lizzy had slipped into her apartment and grabbed some of her belongings. She was dressed ready to attract vampires… black one-piece dress that snugged against her skin and stopped just below her butt. Pumps high enough no female could possibly flee from a potential attacker in. Hair in a tight ponytail, free shot straight to her neck vein. All of it calling out, I can’t escape. I’m easy. Come suck me dry.

Charlie looked over each of them, and despite them looking the part, he wanted to be sure they were on board. “Everyone ready for this?”
Just another mission,
he told himself, hardening his jaw.

Lizzy nodded. Michael too. Courtney smoothed her hand down the front of her dress, making for the front door. Charlie hit dial on the phone in the kitchen. The line set aside for direct calls between them and Mack.

She picked up.

“We’re heading out.” Charlie hung up, readying himself to walk out of the mansion. He avoided looking at his sister, if he did, he’d not be able to go through with this mission. His courage balancing on a treacherous precipice.

From the farthest corner of his eye, he saw Melinda gripping the edge of the kitchen counter as if afraid to let go. He was grateful she’d not be here alone and as he passed Lucas, they exchanged a silent understanding that she would not be alone for a single moment, until they’d come home and the job was done.

It was nearing two in the morning. Charlie stalled for a few seconds on the front porch. Courtney was at the end of the driveway with Michael a few steps behind. Lizzy, almost down the stairs. Clouds covered the moon in thick patches. A fine, cool mist settled in the air. Fog would roll in soon. Typical for the Demon Isle in the middle of the night during summer.

Something to enjoy on any other night.

Something that only added to the gloom this night.

He could not stall any longer. He lumbered down the stairs a pile of stale energy. Resolved, focused, but on the precipice of imploding.

Part one of the plan… the perfect lonely darkened street.

Part two… Courtney stumbling along the sidewalk acting tipsy. An easy meal for a hungry vampire.
Not William
, they’d decided. He’d remain nameless until captured. Not their friend. Or mentor. A ruthless killer who had to be taken out. That’s it.

Part three… Charlie, Michael, Lizzy taking up positions in the shadows, keeping a firm eye on Courtney. Ready to spring when the vamp flew in for an attack.

Part Four… Courtney fumbled with the glass vial in her hand. The werewolf blood to slow down their opponent. In her pocket, a wooden stake, just in case things got out of hand. She was willing to help them, her life already stolen. Charlie refused to put her in more danger, despite this, he hoped she’d keep to their agreement that he’d be the one to deal the deathblow.

Charlie, Lizzy, and Michael were each armed with the same weapons. They’d asked Mack to stick to her normal routine, so as not to raise additional suspicion. But she was on alert and ready to come running if they needed her.

The trio of witches watched Courtney strutting leisurely down the sidewalk, humming to herself like she was out on a late night drunken stroll. She stopped after a bit, leaning against one of the darkened buildings. Closing her eyes, acting a bit wobbly from too much to drink.

They watched from both directions, for signs of anyone approaching.

And watched.

And watched.

And watched.

Buzz… Buzz… Buzz…

Charlie’s phone. He took a quick look, his sigh audible.

“We’re wasting our time, aren’t we?” Michael sensed it instantly, his empathy working like sunburned skin that could barely stand to be touched.

Charlie called out to Courtney; she was there in a flash.

“Mack found another body,” he explained, throat tight.

“Damn it.” Michael knew it was coming and it still hurt to hear.

Lizzy raked her bottom lip biting back the agony.

“Where this time?” asked Michael.

“Not far. Mack wants us to meet her.” He looked at Michael expectantly. “Are you up to a death reading?”

“Do I have a choice at this point?” he challenged bitterly. “I think we’ve reached that unequivocal no turning back, need to know, moment. If it’s William, we’ve already prepared for this. Still, it’s not going to tell us where he’s hiding out.”

“No. But we’ll know for sure what we’re dealing with. See how crazed Will… I mean, how the vamp…” Charlie was having great difficulty seeing it as any other vampire. He gave up and motioned testily for them to follow. “Be careful,” he warned. “He may have eaten tonight, but he could still be lurking.”

He.

Meaning William.

Charlie’s body shuddered involuntarily.

This was an impossible task.

No way to think of it as any other vamp.

William. He had a name and it was William freaking Wakefield.

Condemned to die.

A silent plea went out to the universe, praying hard for it not to be him. By some miracle, if they existed…
please let us be wrong…
but no other vampire had set foot on this Isle since… Charlie couldn’t even remember when.

They arrived on the crime scene without incident. A hollow in the middle of a small park right outside the main part of town, close to the ferry landing and Demon Isle Lighthouse. Mack had kept the scene quiet, sent her deputy to handle a non-supernatural related problem; one that entailed looking out for reporters or tourists who happened to be stalking the area so late at night and redirecting them. Too many deaths… this was going to cause a panic if she didn’t handle it perfectly.

The sheriff greeted them with lackluster fanfare and patted Michael’s shoulders as he bent over the victim. She’d assumed he’d do a reading and backed away to give him space.

Courtney twiddled the wooden stake in her hand, watching curiously.

Charlie and Lizzy stood side by side, bodies touching, gazes firmly fixed on Michael.

He was on knees beside the victim. A young woman, maybe mid-twenties. Not so much older than his sister, Lizzy, or Emily… just thinking his girlfriend’s name shot a bullet through him.

He reached out, hand hovering a few inches over the lifeless body.

An entire life snuffed out to feed the lust of a bloodthirsty monster.

His eyes raised upward as his hand lowered and connected with the dead body. The death reading surged into Michael’s mind like a nightmare he knew was coming and could not stop.

Hearts pounded hard, blood rushing.

No one breathed, or blinked.

Waiting for what Michael would see.

Already hearing the proverbial ping of the hammer nailing the final rod of steel into William Wakefield’s coffin.

CHAPTER 19

Emily had gotten off the ferry and sat in the parking lot for too long. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. Only that she had to get away. Escape The Demon Isle. Escape the Howards. Escape Michael…

It hurt to leave, and yet it was a good pain. A necessary pain. A brutal pain that topped all others she’d experienced these last few weeks, but also brought a breath of freedom. It made no sense to her how she could feel this way. This push and pull, like the tide she was leaving behind.

To go where?

Still no answer.

Fingers gripped the steering wheel. The engine cut off after she’d gotten sick of the idling and wasting gas having no idea where to go. Because the sad truth of it was there was no place for her to go. She was on her own. No family. No friends outside the Isle. No town she called home.

God, Michael’s face. She was hurting him so much it shamed her. She’d loved Michael Howard since she’d first laid eyes on him, and now it sickened her to think of him. Which sickened her even more, love still swirling around intermingling with the anger.

Why did he have to utter those words?

Marry me?

It had crossed some invisible line.

Broken the dam she’d been holding together.

The idea of, forever, with Michael was something she’d always wanted.

Now, it was over.

For good?

She couldn’t even answer that for herself with any honesty.

Tears streamed down her face as darkness settled across the sky. She had to go somewhere. But where? A hotel… again, where? How far away did she need to go? Her brain rattled through the list of people she knew. So few not from the Isle. And those not from the Isle acquaintances really. Old college buddies she’d never been close enough to for something like this.

Alone.

I’m alone.

Everyone she loved was on the once place she could not return.

That life was over. Gone in the length of time it took to pack a bag, get in her car, and board the ferry.

Emily’s head flicked to the side.

A wisp of movement in the passenger seat.

She sucked in. Eyes pinching in disbelief.

There was no way… she was seeing a ghost. Literally…

The billowing white energy settled into the front seat, a familiar face staring back at her.

“Impossible…”

Emily’s mouth draped open in shock.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel, a ghostly arm reached out, its caressing energy flaking across Emily’s skin in a gentle buzz. In a flash of movement, the ghostly hand sank into her skin. The rest of the form seeping in behind it. Emily’s head fell backwards with a rough gasp, her hands fell off the wheel dropping down to her sides on the seat.

Energy surged through Emily. Taking over. Taking control.

Her body no longer obeying her commands. A new master taking the reins.

It was like falling asleep. By force of the others’ will.

Few thoughts squeezed through before complete blackness took her.

All disbelief mixed with a hundred questions she had no way of organizing coherently.

Emily’s head lifted forward. Two arms lifted and stretched outward. Fingers flexing. Eyes lifting and blinking, a smile forming.

“Oh how strange,” a voice whispered. Emily’s, and yet not hers. The inflection similar.

The driver’s side visor flipped down, the mirror opened. The act of touching something stole the first oxygen breathed in almost five years. This was going to take a few minutes to adjust. A body. No longer ethereal. No longer watching from the sidelines. Finally called to finish her business in the world of the living. All the things she could not do before her death.

Brown eyes stared back at themselves, the visor mirror catching a flash of determination.

“You hang in there baby girl. Take a nice long rest. Momma’s here to take care of you and I’ll get you right where you need to go.”

She grasped the wheel, turned on the engine, and headed the car south.

#

Melinda stationed herself on the top step of the front porch of the mansion.

Lucas soaked up the space right next to her.

He was not an empath, and had no gift in reading what others might be feeling, or needing, like his brother, but anyone looking at the woman sitting next to him would have guessed, breaking. Cut wide open with little chance of gluing herself back together.

He wished for some way to console her. Only a monster would feel no compassion, or their own heart breaking on her behalf. Lucas tried to get her talking, but each conversation went nowhere and ended fast.

What torture.

For all of them.

No matter his reflections on magic, this was torture.

Melinda’s half-dead gaze shifted between noises near the end of the driveway, and the screen of her phone.

Waiting. Dreading.

Waiting. Dreading.

Waiting for permission to break apart.

Dreading those long minutes after.

Unsure how she’d survive the hours that would follow. The months that would whirl by in a blur of memory. The years she’d refuse to move on and forget the vampire’s existence.

The hole already drilled through her heart, counting down for darkness to consume it.

Kick-butt witch, why bother?

Why did she think it would change anything? That she’d change?

Helpless and powerless was her lot in life.

Being alone. Watching people she loved, die, was becoming a hobby.

Warmth on her thigh. Melinda forced her gaze off the phone.

Lucas’ hand splayed across her leg, not because she’d been shaking it like she normally did when worked up. She was rather still. Almost as if she moved in any manner, even a deep breath, life would become unbearably real.

Lucas’ intent was to grab her attention. Keep her mind busy. Make sure she remembered to breathe. Pass some of his life-force to her, so she’d not fade into the darkness trying to claim her.

Melinda gave Lucas a noncommittal head shake that only meant she was there, with him, present in some form, but unable to speak, or think, or act, or anything else.

“How about, I talk, you listen.” It wasn’t an option but a statement of what was about to happen. He hoped his voice would offer some solace, at the least, temporarily lull her into a false sense of security.

“I’ve decided to let Lizzy teach me stuff,” he started.

This isn’t how she expected him to start.

“I know, right. Anyway, I guess you’ll have to put up with me in your lessons. I’m not thrilled with my choice, far from it. But thinking over everything, I can’t say any of you are wrong. Or right. I suppose I have to accept learning magic, for now.”

Part of Melinda wanted to tell him to do whatever he wanted. That none of it really mattered. The other part of her fought that sentiment, because of course it mattered. And she still needed to learn if she was going to toughen up enough and get smart enough at the craft to help Courtney take out Stricker.

The best she could muster was a sympathetic frown.

He went on. “I think the final straw was this new
gift
of mine. If I’m stuck with it, I can’t ignore it. Magic is easy to ignore, it’s not attached to me, per se. It’s optional, at least to me. But when Riley’s gift hit him, I encouraged him to listen to it. To follow where it took him. I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t heed my own advice.”

Melinda freed a blunt, uneasy, closed mouth chortle. She still couldn’t speak, but grasped his hand, thanking him for trying. Encouraging him to continue. He kept her hand wound in his.

“I still don’t like magic. It’s ruined so many lives,” Lucas continued talking. “Still is ruining people’s lives. But I’ve been miserable denying it. I can see that now, however much I don’t want to. Maybe I’ll be less miserable embracing it.” He let out his own disgruntled laugh. “I’m not exactly the poster boy for
yay, magic
. I guess I’m giving in. A little. Trying things out. See if it fits me. I’m clueless as to what I’m supposed to do with this new gift, however. What good is seeing flashes of the past? I’ve gone over and over those little blips I’ve seen, and there’s just nothing of value there. Nothing that needs fixing. Nothing that needs to change. And how could I? It’s history. Oddly, a subject I enjoy. But these moments don’t appear to hold any specific value, or meaning.”

“I- I’m sure,” Melinda got out shakily, “you’ll f-figure it out, Lucas.”

He smiled kindly.

His hand in hers kept her connected to something. Kept her from flying away. The Deane brothers were both talented comforters of the soul. She was sure neither of them saw this as a talent, but it was like second nature to them. They must have had parents that loved them, and taught them well. They were good people who deserved better than they’d gotten in life, and certainly better than they’d gotten since coming to the Isle.

Grasping to Lucas like her life depended on it brought equal amounts of security and despair. He was holding on. Keeping her from falling into darkness. She would be falling if it were not for him doing this.

Powerless, again.

Relying on someone else, again.

Neck deep in a pit about to suffocate her, someone other than herself the only way she’d dig out of it.

Doomed. To continue this vicious cycle of falling, breaking, and someone else picking her up and piecing her back together.

Lucas opened his mouth to start up the mostly one-sided conversation again when both gazes flew to her phone. It rang and vibrated ominously.

Charlie…

She let out a rush of air. Her fingers unmoving even as she ordered them to answer the phone. The first ring setting off a chain reaction of memories flashing before her eyes as if it was her moment of death. It wasn’t, it was William’s, but it was
their
death. The end of them.

William caressing the side of her face after a prophetic dream almost two years ago. Each stroke of his icy fingers soothing the terrible things she’d witnessed and wanted to forget. So many times since her prophetic dreams began, had he seen her through the aftermath of these dreams.

The second ring… William laughing. Such a heartwarming thing to hear as it rarely happened with any gusto. So many fleeting moments they’d shared. So many long nights talking… the moment everything changed between them, after her first dream of him.
Of them.

The third ring… William, telling her to close her eyes as calmly as if tucking her into bed and cradling her to sleep in his arms. While his body hung useless against the torture surging at him… his concern Melinda’s well-being. Always this first.

Him, a day later, feral determination to take out the evil responsible. Fighting through the pain and bloodlust from the human blood he’d drank to break free and save her life.

The fourth ring… Lucas picked up the phone, tapped it on, and slid it up to Melinda’s ear.

“Melinda.” Charlie’s voice trembled. “
It’s not William.
It’s not him…”

She did not hear anything else.

Charlie might have continued talking, or hung up, she had no idea.

Blood rushed to her ears, heart strumming in full orchestral performance.

Charlie might have told her the world was about to implode in on itself, but she didn’t hear a word. A sob pushed out of her and Lucas dropped the phone, surrounding her with himself.

“I’m so sorry, Melinda.”

She sobbed, unable to tell him. Her brain soaking in this news. Trying to put meaning to the words Charlie had spoken.

It’s not William.

It’s not William.

It’s not William…

Melinda wanted to tell Lucas but only sobs came out of her. She collapsed against him, relief seeping into her veins. The pain and relief of it all falling out of every tear. Lucas embraced her tightly, wishing there was some better way to comfort her. How did you keep someone who’d just lost someone they loved from slipping away, a bit of them dying too.

He’d lost his parents and still had no answer for this.

So much loss.

Death was a reality of living. But never easy to accept even you’re expecting it.

Melinda lifted her head.

Lucas put some space between them.

What the…

Melinda was smiling. Weakly. So exhausted she might pass out. But smiling. Eyes a blue ocean of softness and relief. She opened her mouth to say something, but it took a minute for the words to reach her tongue.

“Not. William…” she finally articulated with great effort.

“Oh my God. Um… that’s… wow.”

“I was so sure I’d lost him,” she let out breathlessly. “It’s not him.” The reality of this still swam around the surface, barely sinking in. She pulled back to clean her face. It took a few more minutes to get the tears to subside.