Hecate's Own: Heart's Desire, Book 2 (4 page)

Shit. His car was missing. She ran for his front door, but
she already knew that he was gone. Her gut churned at the thought that he was
out there all alone.

She had to find Zach and keep him safe.
Had. To.

She huffed out a frustrated breath. He might be a fuck-up,
but he was
her
fuck-up. She couldn’t let him go into something blind,
even if she didn’t know what that something might be. She had to figure out
where he’d gone and fast. And the best way to do that was to get inside his
house.

She bent over his door and whispered into the lock, “Little
house, little house, let me in.”

Before she could recite the second line of the spell, Zach’s
disembodied voice whispered back from the keyhole. “Not by the hair of my
chinny-chin-chin.”

“Aw crap.” She felt her feet lift from the ground and prayed
there wouldn’t be too much damage when she landed.

Chapter
Three

Jo opened her eyes to a bright white light and a hell of a
headache.
That son of a bitch killed me.

“She’s coming around.”

She blinked as the light moved away, only to be replaced by
the concerned face of a man in a dark jacket. Behind him she could see flashing
red lights.

“Can you tell us what happened, miss?” The paramedic grabbed
hold of her arm, preventing her from feeling the lump on the back of her head.
Traffic was blocked by the ambulance some kind soul had called.

She wondered if morphine worked on headaches this big.

“Miss?”

“Slipped and fell.” She closed her eyes and hoped they’d buy
that explanation, because there was no way in hell she could tell them the
truth.

“Sure you did.” The paramedic sounded resigned and she knew
he didn’t believe her. “We’re going to need X-rays and an MRI, make sure
there’s no serious damage.” He turned to a female paramedic. “Let’s get her
loaded.”

It was only when they lifted the gurney that she realized
she was strapped down. She hadn’t even realized it wasn’t the paramedic holding
down her arm, it was the restraints.

“Let’s get that IV started. Ma’am, you’re going to feel a
little pinch.”

“No needles!” Too late. She barely beat back an unmanly
squeak of terror as the sharp, pointy object was stabbed into her unwilling
flesh.

Darkness began to cloud her vision.
Oh, Zach. When I
catch up with you, you are
so
dead.

Zach picked up a rental car and GPS system at the
Philadelphia Airport and headed straight for Annabelle’s. He was exhausted; it
had taken him all night to get his shit together, arrange the flight and rental
car and head out. He’d spent a good portion of it sitting in the airport. For
some reason he’d had no desire to remain a minute more than necessary in the
townhouse the Prince had rented for him.

If he had his way he’d never go back to it. The place was
cold and unwelcoming, and Zach was sick of it. He’d go back to Pittsburgh and
his own home soon, but for now he wanted to talk to Annabelle and meet with his
brothers.

Luckily it wasn’t far from Philly International to
Annabelle’s, just a half-an-hour drive on I-95. He hoped Annabelle would let
him rest once he got to her place, but he knew it was probably a futile hope.
She’d want to know why he was on her doorstep, but it was the first place he
could think of to go. He needed her advice, especially since she was the one
who insisted he head to court in the first place.

He was just starting across the Girard Point Bridge when his
attention was caught by a small island in the Schuylkill River. It was a small
one, with what looked like the remnants of lots of trees. It was completely
dark. At first he thought it had been in some sort of fire, since the
surrounding islands looked green and inviting. Slowing down, he quickly
realized that the island wasn’t burned, just…dark.

It was a bright, sunny day. So why was the island in such
deep shadow? Zach shivered, but the honking of a car behind him took his
attention off the island. When he checked it again in his rearview mirror,
everything looked fine. The trees were green, and the island looked completely
normal.

“Maybe it was a passing cloud.” He turned up the music,
blasting Rob Zombie, and tried to ignore the weird feeling coursing through
him. The sensation gradually left him, but the memory didn’t.

Maybe he should check it out while he was in the area. It
seemed
wrong
somehow.

Zach shook off the thought and pulled onto Annabelle’s
street. For once luck was with him and he quickly found a parking spot. He got
out of the car and walked to her house, eager to see her again. Annabelle knew
how to make someone feel at home even when giving them hell for messing up. He
knocked on her door and hoped the older woman would be happy to see him. She’d
sent him to Cleveland to be trained, and instead he’d been humiliated, dissed
and pretty much dismissed.

Really, when he thought about it, it was nothing new. He was
used to being the black sheep of his family. Maybe he shouldn’t have made such
a big deal out of it.

The door opened and Zach took a deep breath. There, before
him, was the matriarch of the Evans clan. “Zach?”

The deep purple T-shirt she wore proclaimed her a fan of
Shania Twain. Her salt-and-pepper hair lay around her shoulders, her dark eyes
clouded with confusion. She had to be the only grandmother he’d ever met who
could wear skinny jeans and make them look good.

Chris is a lucky son of a bitch.
If Lana looked half
as good as her grandmother at that age Chris would have every right to walk
around with a permanent grin.

“Hey, Annabelle. Can I come in?” He blinked at her, giving
her his best lost-puppy-dog eyes.

But Annabelle Evans was made of sterner stuff. She crossed
her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at him. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you over cookies?” He grinned at her wistfully.
Damn, he was
hungry
. He hadn’t eaten since that measly slice of airport
pizza.

Annabelle shook her head and let him in. “Do I really want
to know?”

He put his head down and headed straight through her row
house to the kitchen. He ignored the bright colors, modern furniture and homey
little touches. He practically ran down the dark hardwood floors past the
traditional, camel-colored sofa. The Spanish-style TV armoire that was
currently open. Annabelle was watching a show where two people were explaining
why a heavyset girl should
not
wear slinky fabrics. He dashed into the
kitchen and parked his ass at the ebony-stained banquette. He crossed his arms
over the table, rested his head on his arms and waited for the inquisition.

Annabelle sauntered into the kitchen, shaking her head.
“Right. I
don’t
want to know.”

He grinned at her and hoped it didn’t look as ghastly as it
felt. “Cookies?”

She sighed. “Cookies.”

She bustled around the kitchen and soon there was a heaping
plate of Oreos and a huge glass of milk in front of him. Zach dug in with
gusto, dipping the chocolate treats into the milk until the cookie was
just
so
, popping the gooey mess into his mouth as quickly as possible.

“Enjoy your snack. I’ll be right back.”

He watched Annabelle leave the room. A few moments later he
heard the jangle of the curtain rods and knew she’d opened the curtains.
“Everything all right?”

She entered the room and sat next to him with a weary sigh.
“A witch is missing, a young one, from my coven. Her parents have asked me to
look for her.”

“Damn.” Zach sat straight, all of his instincts on high
alert. Even his wolf took notice, nudging him to give Annabelle any assistance
she required. “Need any help?”

She eyed him thoughtfully. “Sure. I’d appreciate it.” She
stood. “Come on, we can do this in my workroom.” She led him down the basement
stairs and through a small door. Typical of a Philadelphia row house of its age
and neighborhood, the basement had been broken down into three sections. The Italians
that had once, and still, lived in the area had used those basements for the
making of homemade wine. One, the front, was decorated much as the upstairs had
been, with hardwood floors and bright colors. A door led to the middle section
and the laundry room. The second door had a shiny padlock on it.

Annabelle muttered something over the lock and it fell open.
“Here we go.” She pushed open the door, and Zach whistled. A tile floor had
been set, the lighter tile mingled with darker glass tile in the shape of a
pentacle. The point faced north. Over that was a huge log turned altar, its
surface polished until it gleamed. Various spellcasting implements were laid
out on it, along with a map of Philadelphia and a black glass pendulum. A red
magic marker rested atop the photo of a young girl, no older than fifteen.
Solid oak bookcases stuffed with books lined the walls. Some of those books
were so ancient they looked like they would fall apart with a glance. Some were
squeaky new. He thought he caught a glimpse of Raymond Buckland nestled next to
The Registry. “Nice.”

Annabelle snorted. “It’s good to be the queen.”

“Don’t let Arianna hear you say that.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Don’t talk to me about Arianna.
I’m still pissed that you’re here instead of there. It means someone screwed up
and I’m going to have to have words with them.”

Zach blinked. “You’re allowed to yell at the Prince?”

Annabelle gave him the most evil grin he’d ever seen on her
face. “
You
may not be, but
I
sure as hell can.”

“Okay.” Nothing Annabelle Evans did could surprise him. If
she wanted to go toe-to-toe with the forces of darkness she’d probably walk
away from it with one of those foam fingers, a trophy hat, an “All I got was
this lousy T-shirt” and a grin.

“Pick up the pendulum.”

Zach stared at the pendulum swaying gently over the map. His
free hand, the damaged one, rested on the photo of the girl, almost against his
will. He could feel the magic building inside him. “Annabelle?”

“Hmm?”

He could hear her puttering around the workroom, gathering
supplies from barely seen cubbies and drawers built into the huge log. “I know
what spell to use.” The urge to speak the spell was so overwhelming his speech
slurred.

“Zach, no!”

“North to South, East to West,

Guide this pendulum in its quest.

Find the witch that’s hidden from me.

As I will so mote it be!”

Zach gasped as the pendulum went insane. It swung all over
the map in seemingly random arcs, touching down here, there, everywhere.

“Holy crap, Zach.” Annabelle watched as Zach’s arm got
jerked all around the map. “You’ve just found every single witch in
Philadelphia.” She frowned. “Even a few I didn’t know about.”

The pendulum came to a halt right over the Girard Point
Bridge. “What. The?” Zach stopped himself from cursing at Annabelle’s glare.
“Sorry.”

“Put the pendulum down and back slowly away from my altar.”

Zach did as he was told. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he’d
screwed up again. “I’ll go up now.”

Her eyebrows rose, but Zach didn’t stick around to hear the
lecture. He knew he’d messed up. He didn’t need to hear it in stereo. He just
hoped he hadn’t screwed Annabelle’s chance of finding the missing girl.

He heard the phone ring, but ignored it. He didn’t want to
step on her toes any more than he already had. He heard her come up the stairs
and, out of the corner of his eye, watched her pick up the phone. “Hello?” She took
the phone from her ear and stared at it in silence for a moment before putting
it back to her ear. “Hold on.” She walked over and dropped the handset in his
lap. “Phone for you.”

He hissed in pain as it landed just right on his manhood.

He picked it up gingerly, terrified that it was, Lord help
him, his mother. “Hello?”

“Why the fuck aren’t you in Cleveland?”

Well hell. This was almost as bad. “Cleveland
doesn’t
rock?”

“Don’t be a smartass, fucktard. You’re supposed to be ‘in
training’.” He could hear the quotation marks in Gareth’s voice. The future
King of Wizards had
that note
in his voice, the one that said he’d
scented a family problem and was ready to ride out on the warpath. “So why
aren’t you?”

“No reason.” Not that he could put his overprotective older
brother off with that excuse for long. He quickly dunked another Oreo and
shoved it in his mouth. He had the feeling this conversation was going to take
a
lot
of cookies.

“Zachary.”

Zach winced. How Gareth had gotten their mother’s tone of
voice just right he’d never know, but he instinctively wanted to shuffle his
feet and come up with a really good reason why he’d fucked up this time.

“Did someone give you shit?”

“Mez,” he muttered around a mouthful of chocolate gunk.

“Who?”

And there it was. Gareth’s tone had gone hard, all teasing
and affection leeched from it. He could just picture his brother ready to head
out and kick some witch ass.

Zach swallowed quickly. “Long story.”

“Tell it to me when you get to Chris’s house. He’s waiting
for you. So are Lana and Daniel. I’ll be there shortly. And Zach?”

Aw shit. He’d been hoping to avoid Chris for another twenty
years or so. “Yeah?”

“We’ll take care of it.” Gareth hung up before Zach could
answer. He had to swallow the lump in his throat.

They might think he was a complete fuck-up, but he was
their
fuck-up. Nobody messed with a Beckett boy without messing with
all
the
Beckett boys.

Shit. It felt really good to be home.

Annabelle stepped into the kitchen. She stared at him and
tapped her foot. “Well?”

Zach shoved another cookie in his mouth and hoped she’d take
the hint.

Annabelle grunted. “Going to Chris’s?”

He nodded. He might actually get out of this without a
lecture. Never mind he’d come here for her help. He wanted his brothers around
him in the worst way. If Chris wanted to kick his ass for hurting Lana, so be
it. He just…needed them.

“I’m coming with you.”

Zach swallowed the gooey mess before answering. “Cool. I’ll
only have to explain it once.”

Annabelle just shook her head and snagged her own cookie.
“Just as long as you explain it. Got it?”

Zach knew an order when he heard one. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Jo?”

She snarled at Ro from the depths of the scratchy white
blanket and wooden board she was forced to lie down on. “What?”

He bit his lip. “Do I want to know?”

“Fucking Beckett asshole.” She gritted her teeth against the
pain in her head and sat up. She hated hospitals. She hated the fucking hard-ass
hospital beds they made you sleep in until you needed yet another doctor for
the back pain. She hated needles. She especially hated the stupid gowns they
always shoved you into that let your hoo-ha hang out the back for all the world
to see. It really sucked when you wore nothing but thongs.