Tempted by Darkness (3 page)

Jameson listened as Cecil explained the
Council’s response. It was easy to see the wizard was at his wit’s
end, but he was trying very hard to be diplomatic for Kit’s sake.
It wasn’t working, but the old guy was giving it a valiant go
anyway. Jameson was trying to divide his attention between Angie’s
mates and his own, it was going to be a draw which of the three of
them spiraled out of control first. Personally his money was on
Kit.

Tristan and Nick Michaels were good men,
Jameson valued their opinions and contributions to the Wolf Pack,
but he was also keenly aware of their one and only weakness—and
that was his brilliant, but mouthy cousin, Angie. The three of them
had been mated for several years and Jameson knew they were anxious
to start a family but Angie’s intense work schedule always seemed
to be throwing out roadblocks. Both men had reached the end of
their tolerance and had recently talked to him about using his
Alpha status to reassign her to the pack. Jameson and Trev had
already reached the same conclusion, but they’d put off speaking
with Angie until they could get things settled with Braden—and that
delay was certainly a decision he regretted now.

The truth was, he simply hadn’t seen this
coming and he was usually very good at predicting behavior. They
had all expected Damian to order that Kit be brought to him by any
means necessary, so they’d been using all their resources to
protect her and the twins. They hadn’t considered a collateral
attack, and that’s what this seemed to be. Snatch Kit’s friend—a
woman everyone knows she loves like a sister, and she’ll do
whatever you ask to get her back. Jameson watched as Tristan’s
attention was drawn down to the screen of the monitor in front of
him. “Holy shit, Kit, come take a look at this.” As the Chief of
Security for the Wolf Pack and its surrounding estate, Tristan was
usually the epitome of professionalism, so whatever he’d seen had
been worthy of interrupting Cecil, a man they all liked and
respected.

Kit moved behind him as Jameson and Trev
stepped up to flank her. “Watch this. What you’re seeing is from
the hospital’s security feed—no, don’t even ask how I got it.” And
then, just as a woman walked through the sliding glass doors of the
lobby, Tristan pointed to the screen, “Isn’t that your mom?”

He and Trev both leaned in for a closer look,
but Kit just laughed. “No, it isn’t.” When they all turned to stare
at her, she smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “My mother is a
photo-phobe or whatever you call a person who refuses to have their
picture taken. If that had been Carla Harris, we wouldn’t be
looking at this because she would have put out a huge pulse of
electromagnetic energy as the outside doors slid open, instantly
sending all the cameras into a tailspin that would have made them
look as if they’d gone haywire. You’d have found nothing but static
on any of the feeds until she’d cleared the
building…guaranteed.”

Ruby’s wiry little body squeezed between them
all until she was front and center. “Run it back please, Tristan.”
When he nodded, she laid her hand on his shoulder and whispered,
“Such a nice young man.” Jameson wanted to laugh, the older witch
had done the same thing to him one afternoon when he’d been about
to burst a vessel over something Kit had pulled. He wasn’t sure
what the spell was, but just the touch of her hand to his shoulder
had calmed all the raging waters. Jameson watched as Tristan
visibly relaxed and took what Jameson assumed was his first deep
breath in hours.

“Kit is right, Carla never allows herself to
be photographed. It isn’t vanity as many assume.” Looking from
Jameson to Trev, she added, “She was always cautious, because
putting your image out there for all to see when you are fighting
the forces of evil is like handing your enemies a loaded weapon,
but ever since the night your parents were killed, she has been
meticulous—practically obsessive, about never being captured on
film. She always feared being taken from Kit before her darling
daughter was ready.” Jameson saw Kit’s eyes widen in surprise, he
knew his lovely mate wasn’t particularly close to her mother
because his mother-in-law seemed to have impossibly high standards
for her daughter. But now, he couldn’t help but wonder if it hadn’t
all been about keeping Kit safe until she was ready to learn
everything she’d need to fulfill her destiny. Ruby had talked to
both he and Trev about the prophecy, so he knew the expectations
others had for Kit were extremely high. Since Ruby had begun
training Kit, Carla seemed to have mellowed, and now he had to
wonder if he hadn’t just been given a clue to that mystery.

“Well, someone wanted us to think it was your
mother. But it seems odd that someone who knows her well enough to
impersonate her isn’t aware of her aversion to having her
photograph taken.” Jameson knew Tristan was essentially thinking
out loud, it was the way his friend processed information, so he
simply waited, then held his hand up when he thought Ruby was going
to respond. “Unless, she’s been seen at some of your witchy-woo
parties and one of her peers has switched teams.”

“Witchy-woo parties? What the hell is that
about? Good Lord, no wonder your wife swears you live under a rock,
Tristan. For Goddess sake, read something besides a tech manual,
hell, watch a sit-com or two. You bore the teens of the pack by
overriding the television’s remote control and playing the damned
science crap all day long anyway.”

“Kitten, might want to tone it down a bit,
his ears are turning crimson and starting to sizzle.” Jameson gave
her a little swat and smiled when she frowned up at him. “That’s
one, my love.” He would give her a pass for sassing Tristan—once,
but his little witch knew better than to frown at her Dom.

“Well, I didn’t say his reasoning wasn’t spot
on. I simply took exception to the witchey woo comment, that was
just plain sexist and insulting. I’ll have you know, those witch
gatherings are full-blown orgies with food served on naked bodies
and drinks poured from floating goblets of gem-encrusted gold.
Non-magicals beg to be included, and just last month I agreed to
take Angie and Julie along next time.” Jameson really was worried
Tristan’s head was going to spin around atop his shoulders.

“Really? When is the next one?” Braden’s eyes
were bright with anticipation and Jameson almost hated to watch as
Kit burst his bubble. He had to give the kid credit, this time his
timing was perfect. Braden’s interest had distracted Tristan from
playing right into Kit’s hands.

“Of course not. Geez, Braden, think, my
friend—would I have just told both of my mates that if it were
true? Hell, they’d never let me go to one of the large coven
conventions.” Kit had emphasized her point by smacking the young
wizard upside the head and shaking her head as if he were
dim-witted.

“Unless of course you might be playing them
by saying you were only playing them.” This time Jameson was the
one who smacked him, damned kid just didn’t know when to quit.

“Knock it off you two. My mate is missing and
you two are doing some sort of ‘Who’s on first’ comedy routine.
Focus, people.” It was unusual for Nick Michaels to take a hard
stance and everyone in the room froze for a couple of heartbeats
before nodding. Tristan was ordinarily the more serious of the two
brothers, so Nick’s intensity spoke volumes about the level of
anxiety permeating the room.

Jameson straightened to his full height and
cleared his throat to re-center the attention to the front of the
room. “Let’s remember why we’re here
and
why we’re a good
team. We all want to find Angie and we will because we’ll use all
available means to do so. But we’re a strong team because we
analyze information thoroughly. We each see the problem from a
unique perspective and we approach things differently so we don’t
miss anything. And above all we remember safety is our number one
priority.”

Kit slipped her small hand inside his and
squeezed in silent thanks before she stepped to the side where Nick
stood. Giving him a quick hug, she said, “I’m sorry. We weren’t
trying to be disrespectful. I think it was just a release valve for
some of our worry, but you were right to call it to a halt.”

“My brother and I appreciate your help more
than you know.” He gave her a quick squeeze before turning her back
to the screen, “Now, we need to figure out who might have been
impersonating your mom so we can find our mate.”

Ruby was already speaking on the phone and
then turned the device toward the screen. When Jameson gave her a
questioning look, she merely shrugged, “FaceTime. Braden helped me
set it up. I’m witch-techy now, damn I wish Webster had lived long
enough to know I made up a new word. He was a real stick in the mud
you know.”

Carla’s exasperated voice sounded from the
small screen, “For God’s sake, mother, spare us the history lesson
and run the tape.” Everyone in the room laughed as Ruby shrugged
and turned her phone back to the security monitor and Tristan
restarted the short clip. Jameson couldn’t help but smile when he
heard his father-in-law’s low whistle. Richard Harris was a
powerful wizard but that fact was often overlooked because his
personality was usually eclipsed by his much more out-going wife.
Jameson respected Richard’s quiet but methodical approach to
problems and was anxious to hear his take of the video.

Carla’s sharp tone brought Jameson’s thoughts
back to the problem at hand, “Oh my stars and garters, that does
look like me. But you already know that, so let’s get right to it.
This sort of imitation requires a lot of concentration and focus,
or perhaps help. Run it back a ways, I want to see who proceeds her
and who follows.”

After several minutes of expanding their
search Carla’s excited voice sounded, “Stop there. See? There she
is.”

This time it was Richard who answered, “Is
that Twila? The young witch the Council asked you to mentor?”

“Yes it is. I don’t know who was pretending
to be me, but I know who was helping her and it gives us a starting
point. Cecil, I’d say you have a serious mole problem.”

“It would appear so, I do believe I’ll give
my fellow council members another call. And if they have time-zone
issues—well, frankly Scarlet, I don’t give a damn.” Jameson laughed
because he’d never met a group of people who could quote movie
trivia like the magicals he’d encountered. When he’d asked Richard
about it one evening over coffee, he’d explained that because they
often lived for more than two hundred years witches and wizards had
a lot more spare time. Richard had laughed as he’d recounted a
rather colorful discussion he’d shared with Ivan Pavlov and Sigmund
Freud where the two psychologists heatedly debated the reasons for,
but not the fact that, creative minds are more open to mystical
beliefs.

Richard had eventually lost Jameson in the
discussion, but the bottom line had been clear—highly intelligent
people were far more likely to accept the reality of things unseen.
They understood and accepted there were powers at work around them
that simply couldn’t be explained away as coincidence. Jameson had
seen the same phenomena play out himself when Kit’s friend, Libby.
The woman was quickly making a name for herself in both chemistry
and neuroscience. She was currently a professor at NYU but Jameson
and Trev hoped to change that in the near future. Libby’s easy
acceptance of what she’d found at the Wolf estate was a prime
example of what Richard had been trying to point out. Libby was
also another young professional woman who was burning the candle at
both ends. For just a moment Jameson wondered if Charlie had made
any progress with her, vowing to check in with him about it later,
Jameson returned his attention to the conversation around him.

Jameson had always prided himself on being
the type of leader who surrounded himself with good people and then
stepped back, letting them do their jobs with as little
interference as possible. As he watched those around him working
together to make plans, he was grateful his fathers had
consistently been incredible role models. They’d always explained
their reasoning to both he and Trevlon so they understood all the
minutia of leadership, not just how to boss people around. By the
time the room began clearing out, everyone knew what they were
supposed to do and they all seemed set on their tasks.

When Jameson shifted his attention to Kit,
she was looking up at him expectantly. Shaking his head at her
unasked question, he said, “Nothing for you just yet, kitten. Well,
nothing aside from spending some quality time with your mates
before you go.” Running his fingers slowly down the side of her
face until they slid under her hair to wrap around the back of her
neck so he could pull her closer, he leaned down to speak softly
against her ear, “Playroom. Strip. Kneel. Wait.” Before he’d even
released her Jameson could feel her trembling beneath his touch—and
he knew his sweet mate well enough to know the reaction didn’t have
anything to do with fear.
Perfect.

Kit paced the long marble hallway listening
to the sharp echo as the heels of her black leather boots collided
with smooth stones that had welcomed visitors for several
centuries. She marveled at the way the sound seemed to bounce
between the polished rock walls, floor, and ceiling as if it was a
calling card announcing her arrival.
Of course the ancients
built their meeting place here, what better protection from outside
evil than a crystal cave you lined with marble?
Granted the
place was also truly spectacular—beautiful, ornate, and rich with
history. The entire room was nearly luminescent despite the dim
wall sconces providing limited amounts of light, but damn it was
noisy. She was mentally reviewing what she planned to say and the
best way for her to think was to keep moving. But the flipping
noise was even starting to annoy her and she was the one causing
it. When she looked up at her granny, Trev, and Braden, they all
grinned at her. Trev walked to her and pulled her close, “Yes, it’s
quite annoying, baby, but if it helps you settle down we’ll all
just cope. We may be deaf or bat-shit crazy in the end, but we’ll
just have to wait and see about that part.”