To Woo A Warrior (Southern Sanctuary) (3 page)

 “I think all of you are
missing the point.”
Riya
commented as she snagged two
more bottles of red wine from a passing waiter. “Alma stayed.”  She met
the blank looks around the table rolling her hazel eyes in exasperation.
 “Uncle Edward talked Alma into staying. And if she’s staying I can only
presume she has done so to resume her role as matchmaker.” She promptly filled
her glass to the brim and passed the bottle along.

“Do you see anything?” Charisse
demanded. “Who’s next?”

“Oh Goddess what about me? Do you
see me?” Fraser enquired, sounding frantic.

Riya
held up her hand to halt her friends as she took a big gulp of wine.
Frowning as she spilled a little on her dress, the liquid draining straight to
the floor leaving no stain. The material for the bridesmaids’ dresses really
was downright scary. “Okay it’s weird I’m getting flashes but not psychic
flashes. Just lots of hazy nothing with strange little gold lights flashing and
winking.”

“Like Alma’s eyes when she looked at
Gaia?” Gigi asked, fear straining her voice to a whisper.

The blood drained from
Riya’s
face as she met each of their gazes. “Exactly like
Alma’s eyes.”

In unison the table looked over in
the direction of Alma, who just happened to glance up at the exact same moment.
A small triumphant smile playing across Alma’s elegant
features as she raised her glass of champagne in a silent toast of
acknowledgment.

“I’m going to the back of the line.
I’ve been married.” Berry captured the table’s focus.

“I dare you to tell Alma that.”
 Eli grinned mischievously.

“Why are you smiling?” Berry demanded

“Well I’m the baby of the group. No
way she’s going to pick on me when there are plenty of you cows to worry about
getting off the market before your milk dries up so to speak.”

Eli was immediately assaulted by a
number of bread rolls aimed at her head and a hard cuff to her ear from her big
sister Fraser.

“Not helping E.”

“We need to approach this
logically.” Nell, their ever
level-headed
healer of
the group stated with quiet authority which immediately silenced the squabbling
at the table. Though even Nell looked pale and slightly rattled as she drained
the contents of her glass.  “Darcy.” She eyed her younger sister,
notorious for her devious nature and elaborate payback plots. “You’ve been
quiet … thoughts?”

Darcy smoothed her already perfect
black bangs back behind her ears. “We can’t kill her.”

Most heads nodded in agreement.

“We can try avoiding her.”

All heads nodded in agreement.

“But I think the best defence is a
good offense.”  Leaning back Darcy snagged Locke, Hadleigh’s oldest
brother by the sleeve of his tux as he passed by.  “Locke … Aunt Lucy
wants you to dance with Great Aunt Alma, a welcome her back into the family
fold gesture.”

Locke’s dark blue eyes scoped the
room, searching for his mother.

Darcy answered his unspoken question.
“She and your father headed for the cloak room about twenty minutes ago.”

“They’re worse than teenagers.” He
grimaced and straightened the jacket of his tux, realigning it snugly across
his broad shoulders. “Better go get it over and done with then.”

“I can’t believe you managed to fool
‘lie detector’ Locke?”  Eli’s mouth had dropped open in shocked awe and
surprise.

Darcy arched a fine dark eyebrow,
her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.  “What, you thought I became the
youngest ever Council Special Liaison because of my looks?”

As Locke walked away, a gorgeous
dark auburn haired lamb to the slaughter the table raised their glasses in
tribute to Darcy. She acknowledged their toast with a slight regal bow of her
head, before looking towards the bar at the large number of single male cousins
and distant relatives
lingering there.

“Who do you think we
should throw under the train next?”

Chapter Three

“Looks like you had more action at
the wedding than I did on duty this evening.”

Hadleigh stumbled to a halt in the
doorway of the kitchen. Smothering a small hiccup unsuccessfully before making
her way carefully to the fridge to grab a large bottle of water before
collapsing none too gracefully into a chair across from her apprentice. Declan
was slouched nonchalantly in his own chair, his long legs stretched out as he
sipped the last of his coffee. His startling dark violet eyes heavy lidded as
he assessed her from head to foot in a slow sweep that many women would have
immediately assumed was the first step towards the bedroom. But Hadleigh knew
better.  

It wasn’t Declan’s fault that his
eyes smouldered with sensuality even when he was bored or angry. Nor could he
help the fact that his sunlit shoulder length blonde hair rippled in unseen
breezes that immediately made any female above sixteen want to run her fingers
through it. It was his burden that his alabaster skin, high cheek bones, tall
lean swimmer’s body and tight runner’s butt made women everywhere sigh and
wonder what it would be like to feel his touch. And Goddess forbid the man
smiled.  Hadleigh had witnessed grandmothers speechless at the sight of
his pearly whites and dimples.

Whilst Hadleigh could admire the
packaging there had never been even the slightest spark of attraction between them.
For one he was her cousin. Okay perhaps not by birth, but abandoned as a baby
and raised by her uncle and his partner, for all intents and purposes it made
Declan family. Secondly he was her apprentice and whilst his preferred weapon
on the field was his charm rather than a sword he took his role as warrior
protector in training seriously.

“Slow night?” She queried, his
clothes looked slightly mussed but she saw no evidence of any injury.

“
Daria
Geddes rang about an hour ago.”

Hadleigh winced in sympathy. “
Ooohh
, not Joker
up
a tree again?”

“Yes poor thing, he’s not a gerbil
who enjoys heights.” Declan sighed heavily. “It’s not so much the faux pet up a
tree act I find annoying, it’s the props.” He visibly shuddered.

“Props? We’re not talking leather and
chains are we?”

“Small mercy no. Try see-through
floral nightie and a rather alarming red wig that kept slipping down over her
left eye, very distracting.”

Hadleigh fought hard to keep from
laughing. “What did you do?”

“I got the gerbil down tout sweet and
got out of there with more speed than grace. Told her you expected to find me
warming your bed when you got home this evening.”

Hadleigh spluttered and then
groaned. “Tell me you didn’t?”

“Please, every busybody in three towns
thinks we’re a couple. I was tired of being polite.”

“Dec, seriously. What if it gets
back to the council? It could hurt your chances of being promoted.”

Declan shook his head belligerently.
“Anyone who knows you would never believe that you would take advantage of your
naive, albeit gorgeous apprentice like that.”

Hadleigh stayed silent, thinking it
more likely that no one who really knew them would believe that Abercrombie
& Fitch male model material Declan would make moves on a freakishly tall
blood thirsty
warrior woman such as herself. One who hadn’t
been trusted with metal cutlery until she was the age of
ten.
 Though it had been surprising the amount of damage she could inflict even
with a plastic fork.  Her teasing relentless three older brothers would
loudly attest to that fact and quite happily point out all their childhood
scars, bunch of
cry-babies
.

“So the wedding … I can only assume
from the early hour that you didn’t get lucky?”

Hadleigh laughed mockingly.
“Seriously, did you see this dress?”

Once again Declan’s eyes swept her
from head to toe. “If anyone could it should have been you but with your lousy
attitude I’ll go with no. What’s that make it now, twenty three months of
abstinence?”

Hadleigh was grateful she was not
the type of girl to blush. Mentally she heaved a sigh of frustration. Two
years! Two years since she could be bothered with the hassle of hooking up with
a man. And that’s all it ever was. No relationships for Hadleigh.  Just
quick, way too quick encounters that left her aching for a release that she
never seemed capable of attaining. That’s why she’d sworn off men and invested
in a trusty pulsating 3-speed showerhead.

“I have no idea where you get your
information from.”

Declan gave her a smile that would
have had underwear melting if it had been directed at any other female. “Let’s
just say I have my ways. So tell me about the wedding, anything of interest
happen? Any hook ups for the family with the groom’s one eyebrow compatriots?”

“No we were all able to restrain
ourselves when it came to Sergei’s family. I think the wedding went well, just
your normal everyday family celebration. My parents disappeared into the
cloakroom upon arrival and didn’t emerge again until after the toasts.”

“Harsh when your own folks are getting
action and you’re not.”

Hadleigh ignored the dig about her
parent’s active sex life as par for the course. “That only leaves the catfight
at the altar and Great Aunt Alma’s official return as family match maker.”

Declan sat up straight in his chair.
“Now I’m torn.
First the catfight.
Who was involved?
Were any clothes torn off and are there pictures?”

“Goddess you can be such a guy. No
clothes were torn off. It was Charisse causing trouble. It was over as soon as
I put Gaia in a headlock.”

“You put the bride in a headlock …
at the altar?”

Hadleigh rolled her eyes. “As I
said, typical family stuff happened.”

“I’m sorry I missed it. Well what
about this Great Aunt Alma? I didn’t know we even had a family match maker.”

“We don’t! I mean we haven’t for a
long time. Supposedly Alma once filled the role but when her husband died I
suppose she lost the taste for it. Long story short she’s back and Gaia was
first on her list.”

“There’s a list!” Suddenly Declan
looked wary. “How does it work? Online? Mixers? Speed dating? What’s the
protocol?”

Hadleigh shrugged. “There is none.
According to all the stories I’ve gleaned from my folks and various aunts and
uncles, Alma’s usual approach is to meddle.”

“Meddle, hmm, that sounds annoying
and tricky.”

“Tell me about it. The girls and I
spent all evening devising ways to throw the foot loose males of the family
into her path.”

“I wonder if I’m on the list?”
Declan mused, a strange gleam in his eyes as he processed the news of Alma’s
arrival.

For half a second Hadleigh could
have sworn he looked almost eager. Which would have been a nutty thing for a
never date a girl more than once Romeo such as her apprentice to get excited
by. Though he was by definition family and nutty was apparently par for the
course.

Chapter Four

It had been ten days since the
wedding and Hadleigh had spent that time chasing sheep.  Not counting them
… chasing them.

The problem was second cousin twice
removed Cedric. Who put a whole new definition on the word
eccentric.
The man was absolutely paranoid that his small flock of sheep were plotting
against him. In most families Cedric would have been retired off to a nice
secure insane asylum. In her family he was assigned a protection detail.

In the last ten days Hadleigh had
learnt a lot about Cedric’s flock of sheep. First and foremost was that Cedric
had spent his retirement years magically modifying them. To what end exactly
Hadleigh had yet to learn but she had
an inkling
that
Cedric had intended them to be of some value to the military. Why else would he
make them smarter, stronger, sneakier and of all things invisible?

Their leader, code named - Snowball
- had yet to make the flock’s exact demands known. They were still sheep after
all and nothing Cedric could do would enable them to talk. Yet they obviously
had some kind of vendetta against Cedric if the increasing number of incidents
were any indication. They had started off small. Cedric awoke one day to find
his house mysteriously ringed in by a barbed wire fence. Then all the man’s
clothes had been stolen, including the pyjamas he’d been sleeping in. More
recently the sheep had escalated their activities laying an elaborate number of
camouflaged man sized booby-trapped holes around Cedric’s property. The purpose
of which Hadleigh could only surmise being to capture and contain Cedric. The
man himself spent most of his time sitting around the house wrapped in sheets,
toga style, scribbling in his notebook documenting the behaviour of the flock,
torn between delight and fear at their antics.

Declan for his part was enjoying the
sheep coup d’état, as he had come to call the campaign. Camping out at Cedric’s
small farm was a nice change in their usual routine of slash and behead. 
Plus he rather enjoyed listening to Cedric’s wild theories on commercial
applications of magically modified household pets. Hadleigh for her part
couldn’t help but think that Cedric deserved to be called to account for his
actions. Not that she was considering throwing her lot in with Snowball and his
pals but still she felt some sympathy for them which made this detail of
protecting Cedric rather a depressing chore.

So it was a relief then on day ten
of their assignment to receive a call from the High Council secretary,
requesting that she report to the Council offices first thing in the morning.
With a spring in her step and a smug smile and wave to Declan she had departed
for home quick smart to sharpen and polish all her favourite weapons in
readiness. Surely the call meant a new threat was looming that
needed to be addressed
in hopefully the bloodiest manner
possible. Her whole body itched to draw blood, which was the problem with being
part warrior, the bloodlust. Perhaps she should reconsider taking up a sport or
joining in some type of team activity to take the edge off. But no, she’d been
banned from the tennis club, the squash courts and even the local swimming pool
for rough play. Was there any club in the area left who might still be clueless
concerning her reputation?  Hmm, she’d have to think on it.

She was contemplating learning how
to play croquet as she entered the Council building the next morning, smiling
slightly at the thought of all the ways becoming proficient with a mallet might
come in useful. Right angle and it could take someone’s head off just as easily
as a sword. It was a nice thought. 

The Council building was a huge
white gothic monstrosity that took up the entire South side of the main town
square. It housed the town library up on the fourth floor whilst the planning,
services and records departments were on the third. The second floor consisted
of all the
offices,
chambers and courtrooms associated
with the local legal and justice systems. The ground and first floor were
devoted to the High Council offices and the official High Council meeting
chamber. Only those who were appointed to the Council itself knew what went on
down in the basement.

Hadleigh nodded at Big Thom who
stood at the base of the massive marble staircase in a stiff grey security
uniform, not so much a tall man as a very broad man.
Thom’s
dark eyes shifting constantly from person to person registering their threat
level as they entered the huge entrance area.
Big Thom was an ex-family
enforcer who’d been bitten by a gargoyle a decade or so ago. The bite meant his
skin was now tougher than titanium and though it hadn’t managed to slow him
down any, it had resulted in him becoming remarkably territorial. It had been
his decision to become the High Council Protector. The local kids whispered
amongst themselves that he turned to stone at night but Hadleigh had witnessed
the man dancing into the wee hours at many a family party. He was a
surprisingly smooth mover on the dance floor for a man of his size.

Her steel tipped boots sounded loud on
the marble entrance floor as she made her way behind the massive staircase and
pushed through the glass doors into the ground floor High Council offices. The
reception area consisted of several comfy armchairs in various shades of green
clustered off to one side, whilst a large oak desk dominated the rest of the
room. The area itself was empty of inhabitants, including the
desk which
had several large stacks of unopened mail on it
and a phone that was ringing, beeping and blinking several red lights all at
once. Okay mystery number one, where was everyone?

Mystery number two was the noisy
racket echoing from down the lobby; the screeching of a bandsaw, several
hammers banging and a nail gun firing off at regular intervals. Following the
plush light green carpet down the lobby Hadleigh noted that all of the admin
offices were empty and there was a general air of abandonment hovering over the
place. She followed the construction noise to the rear of the building,
surprised to find that it was one of the large offices that faced out on to the
back veranda undergoing renovations. The rear offices were reserved for members
who served on the High Council.

Whoever was redecorating had
certainly lit a fire under the workmen. Standing in the doorway on a drop sheet
she counted seven workmen scurrying around performing several different jobs at
once. If she didn’t know better Hadleigh would have sworn the men almost looked
… scared.

Glancing up and down the row of
Council member offices she wondered exactly who had put in the urgent call for
her presence. The bandsaw finally fell quiet and she could hear the indistinct
murmur of female voices off to her right. Leaving the workers to get on with
their chores Hadleigh headed in that direction, passing three more empty offices
before entering the personal library of the High Council members. A medium
sized room filled with ceiling high bookcases and an assorted number of plush
reading chairs clustered in a circle.

Normally the room had an old world,
time stands still feel about it but that was before someone had filled every
spare surface with stacks of paint and fabric sample books. At first Hadleigh
thought the catalyst for the room’s appearance was her third cousin once
removed
Daria
; the owner of Joker, the poor gerbil
who was afraid of heights that she kept endangering to lure Declan over to her
house. She was standing by the empty fireplace, wringing her hands together,
looking
pale and intense in an orange dress that clashed
badly with her red lipstick and the lopsided red wig Declan had mentioned she
had recently taken up wearing.   Was that hideous tangled mop
supposed to resemble her own neglected hair?  If so, maybe she should
reconsider visiting
Charisse’s
hairdresser for a
consult.

From her position in the doorway
Hadleigh could hear
Daria
pleading … with? She took
two stealthy steps further into the room noting Great Aunt Alma was sprawled on
the carpet at
Daria’s
feet, perusing fabric swatches.

“…
it’s
obvious I’m telling you. He just needs a little push that’s all.”

Alma, looking trim and comfortable
in olive green loose trousers and a cranberry coloured short sleeve blouse
appeared to be actively ignoring her visitor as she flicked through the fabric
sample book balanced precariously on her lap.

“Honestly, you’ll hardly need to
lift a finger. I’m ready I tell you and he’s definitely the one … a woman just
knows when the right man comes along.”

Alma expelled a long breath before
lifting her head to look at
Daria
. “Dearest. You’re
right, a woman does know. But as I’ve tried to explain and no doubt you can
guess from the sheer chaos surrounding me.” She waved an elegant hand in the
air. “I’m still getting organised. I need an office. I need my files before I
can start giving any of those little pushes, as you so quaintly put it. But
there is absolutely nothing to stop you in the interim from pinning down Mr
Right. Ah…” Alma jumped a little in surprise as she glanced over suddenly
noting Hadleigh. Though Hadleigh had a feeling her Great Aunt had known of her
presence from the moment she had stepped into the room, probably the building.
“My ten o’clock appointment is here.”

Daria’s
eyes snapped up and for an instant Hadleigh saw real hatred flare in
those cloudy brown depths. “You’re starting with her?”

Alma laughed lightly. “Dearest don’t
be silly, I might like a challenge but even I know when to quit when I’m ahead.
No Hadleigh’s here on enforcement business. Now you run along. I promise I’ll
give you a call as soon as my office is up and running. Off you go.”

Daria
stalked by Hadleigh, sending a glare in her direction before she exited
the room in a cloud of cloying perfume.

“Come in, come in.” Once again an
elegant hand was lifted into the air, this time in a vague welcoming gesture.
“Find a seat darling girl. Just move what’s ever there.”

Hadleigh swept a few fabric books on
to the floor so she could take up residence in a crème silk over stuffed
armchair. Alma dropped her sample books and scooted back slightly so she could
rest her back against the side of a nearby loveseat. Tilting her head, she
swept her perfectly shoulder length styled grey hair behind one ear studying
her new companion closely with those light brown eyes that appeared to miss
nothing in their assessment of Hadleigh; from the practical if somewhat ugly
boots, the fitted black canvas trousers, up past the tight, lightweight wool
blend black long sleeve top to her make-up free face and tousled red hair.

“I’m not here to be matched.”
Hadleigh blurted out, fighting the urge to squirm in her seat under such
intense scrutiny.

“Just like your father.” Alma shook
her head slightly, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

“Tall?” Enquired Hadleigh, unable to
keep the scowl off her face.

“I was thinking surly actually.”
Alma responded with a small chuckle of amusement. “But yes I suppose you are
tall.”

Hadleigh tensed, waiting for the
inevitable follow up veiled insult.

“But you carry the height well and
that’s all that matters really. Now enough small talk, let’s get down to
business.”

“Matchmaking business?” Hadleigh’s
tone was leery, her inner alarm bells signalling approaching danger.

“Goddess no.  All I can think
about at the moment is colour swatches, patterns and furniture catalogues. What
I need from you darling girl is a favour … a personal favour.”

Hadleigh was suspicious by nature
and this so called favour of Alma’s was jumping on every nerve ending she had.
“Let’s hear it.”

“Well I was on the Para-X fan site
yesterday, the most dreadful thing has happened!” Alma paused for what Hadleigh
could only assume was dramatic impact, which was wasted on her since she had
absolutely no idea what Alma was talking about. “Serena has left the show! Just
up and gone! According to X-citeme106 there are still four episodes left to
film this season. This could seriously affect their chances of being renewed
next year.”

“Oh … no,” was all Hadleigh could
manage to mutter, her left leg starting to jiggle with impatience.

“Yes it’s an absolute
nightmare.  Who’s going to backup Professor Xander?”

All Hadleigh could do was shrug, she
couldn’t provide an answer to a question she was unable to comprehend.

“Plus if they bring in the wrong
replacement it might affect their ratings. This in turn might threaten their
chances of being renewed.”

“Ratings?  Are you talking
about a TV show?”

“Not just a TV show, Paranormal
Exterminators! I can’t believe you haven’t heard of it. I’m not normally a big
fan of reality shows but I find myself unusually captivated by Para-X.”

Hadleigh could only shake her head
in momentary confusion. Reality show? Aunt Alma was obsessed with a TV show?
And she was supposed to fix whatever it was that had gone wrong with it?

 “It records the adventures of
Professor Xander Marr and his team as they follow up on a paranormal report
each week and attempt to verify and capture evidence on tape.” Alma shook her
head slightly in frustration. “It’s a lot more exciting than I make it sound,
and that Professor Xander … he really is quite something to watch. A woman from
Atlanta introduced me to the show a couple of years ago on a cruise to South
Africa. Frightfully superior woman but I’ve become a devoted Para-X watcher
ever since.”