The cauldron effect, p.67
The Cauldron Effect, page 67
Hoping to distract the lady from her next work, Grace asked, “How does your ankle feel?”
Llyn glanced at her delicate ankle, twisting it right and then left, as if surprised that it no longer pained her. “What did you do?”
Grace, sitting cross-legged on the grassy ground, said, “A simple healing. The wound on your forehead is more complicated.”
From that point forward, if her patient spoke, Grace no longer heard the words. She shook off her lethargy to focus entirely on her new goal. Once Grace understood the concept of invasion, she knew how to destroy the darkness that had taken root inside Llyn. For the best way to end an infestation, whether by rats or fleas, was to lure them with bait to a secure holding and then ensure they could not escape.
Keeping her distance so as not to alarm this dark infestation into noticing her intention, she expanded her reach, circling the wound, cutting off avenues of escape, of prolonged sustenance, until she could cut off its feeding trough.
Before Grace’s healing light had the darkness entirely within its firm grip, the infestation realized the danger it was in and frantically retreated, escaping, and searing Grace as it brushed by her touch.
She patiently waited for it to come out of hiding. When it finally slithered out to check if the coast was clear, this time she struck swiftly.
As the infestation frantically attempted to escape again, it couldn’t. She had effectively trapped it in her net. Much like those hornets Llyn had been transporting within herself, except Grace had no intention of allowing this invader to escape.
She relentlessly shrank her grip, absorbing every attack from within. Finally, the invader was no more than a pinprick of midnight within her healing light. Then it was gone. Like a flame snuffed out. Though Grace was drained by that monumental effort, she also effervesced at her success.
Thankfully, whatever compulsion the Laneast well had placed on Grace to do no harm to another living being, appeared not to have been extended to this invader. There were limitations to what she felt a compulsion to save. Excellent. That meant there was some hope for a future for her and Dewer yet.
Grace’s successful elimination of the darkness left her thoroughly exhausted. She attempted to stand, and instead slumped sideways.
Llyn caught her in her arms. “Grace!”
She could barely keep her eyes open. Two strong arms lifted her in the air and she curled into Dewer’s dear embrace, inhaling his lovely smoky scent. As darkness swept over her, she brushed his wounded cheek, absorbing the sting from his flesh into hers and whispered, “Thank you for sparing the hornets.”
DEWER TENDERLY CARRIED Grace to his mother’s side, his cheek tingling where she had caressed him. He shared an entreating glance with his mother to assist him and she nodded, though her tightly held lips said she disapproved of his silent request.
Together, seated on the ground, they worked to replenish Miss Adair’s drained energy.
As light as a feather, the young witch lay alarmingly limp in Dewer’s arms.
Grace’s mother hurried over and demanded that she be allowed to help.
His mother soundly rejected that offer. “I refuse to work with a witch.”
“You already did, to build our shield,” the baroness objected.
“Let them be,” Dotty said, in a firm tone, drawing her daughter away. “You are exhausted from helping Grace after she healed the footman. You have nothing left to give her.”
“She is my responsibility.”
“She is a grown woman. Time to allow her to fly out of your nest.” The old lady drew Grace’s mother aside, to where the humans were gathered together beside the carriage.
“This foolish woman stripped herself of all her strength to help the water goddess,” his mother murmured in disgust as she stared at Grace lying limp in his arms. “How could she not see the danger she put herself in and stop in time?”
“I am so sorry,” Llyn said, hovering nearby. “I did not realize what was happening or I would have stopped her. Oh dear. My father still needs her help.”
“Give us space to work.” His mother impatiently waved her away. The minute they were alone, she said in a fierce tone to Dewer, “I refuse to do it.”
Since she continued to channel energy into Grace, Dewer guessed they had switched topics back to what they had been arguing about earlier.
“You are already half in love with this witch,” his mother added. “If she must have protection while she insists on going on this daft quest to the Welsh water god’s realm to heal him, I will accompany her. You may continue to London with the two witches and the humans. Though why you do not leave them and speed to London to claim to your title is beyond me.”
“The title can wait, Mother,” he said, in a flat uncompromising voice. “I have two weeks yet to meet that deadline, before parliament ends their session. Whereas, Miss Adair needs me now. I might trust her family into your uncertain care – they are powerful enough to defend themselves – but not Miss Adair. You have proved time and again that you will not hesitate to harm those I care for.”
“So, you admit you have feelings for this one!”
Chapter 8
Someone shook Alfred’s shoulder. “Wake up!”
Ethel! He sat up with a start. What was she doing in the underworld? In his bedchamber? “I delivered all the souls you sent me to collect, just as you asked. Except for Jack. The witch revived him.”
“I heard.” Ethel sat on the cushy bed beside him, fully clothed, from muscle and skin to gown and slippers.
Alfred moaned at being caught naked again, his bones showing. Even his coverings were splayed on the floor where he’d chucked them after collapsing in despair last night.
“What I missed was what happened next,” Ethel said.
“What do you mean? There was nothing to report.”
She picked up his tablet from the end table and ran a finger along its new crack. “You spoke with Llyn?”
Heat rushed up to his skeletal cheeks. Alfred retrieved his tablet and set it on the table. “Yes, then she went home.”
“Did she?” Ethel gave him a long-suffering look. “Typical. You did not wait long enough to see the end of the story. Alfred, Adramelech pulled her into the underworld.”
“What! He did not—”
“The fae/warlock saved her.” Ethel held her finger and thumb an inch apart before his nose. “Witnesses say he was this close to ending the demon’s life.”
He slapped her hand away. If he still had a heart, it would be thumping with horror. “Is Llyn all right? She would have steamed down here. She is a water being!”
“Is she?” Even with her bones fully covered, Ethel’s cheek stretched into a macabre smile.
Alfred gave up on her and frantically checked his tablet. Recent enrollees of the dead scrolled up on the maddeningly flickering screen. He sent a silent prayer that he would not spot Llyn’s name.
“So, I was right,” Ethel said, in a jovial tone. “You are in love with the mermaid.”
“She is not a mermaid!”
She hugged him tight, squishing the stone tablet between them so hard it was in danger of completely splitting apart. “I knew it.”
“Release me.” Alfred pushed her away. His tablet screen was blank, along with his hopes. What if Llyn’s name had been at the bottom of that list? “Look what you’ve done.”
“You can use mine until you get yours fixed or you are given a new one. Oh, and Llyn is very much alive.”
He glanced cautiously at his friend.
She nodded. “That is what I came to tell you. I was worried you might have heard about the fight at the gateway. Rumors flew that Adramelech had killed a water goddess but that was horse manure flung by his pet hornets. She is alive, and thanks to the clever Miss Adair, healed.”
Alfred breathed in abject relief and leaned against his bed’s headboard, broken tablet forgotten on his lap. After a moment of contemplation, he remembered his manners. “Thank you for telling me. I thought you were busy.”
“I am, but I also know you well, my friend. I suspected that you might be moping around after finally meeting the love of your life.”
“She sees me as nothing more than Death,” Alfred said in a glum tone. “I could have been any death collector.”
“Did you tell her that you have adored her from afar for ages? That you admire her greatly? That her beautiful smile melts your bones? Alfred, she needs to hear how you feel. Did you even introduce yourself?”
“She was in a rush.”
“We all are. A girl needs to feel that you care about what she cares about. How can she discover that if you do not even speak to her?”
“I know what she cares about. Healing her father, and that means pleasing a witch from Callington.”
Ethel flicked a hand in dismissal. “Did you learn that from her or from your broken tablet?”
“From watching her confront the dark fae’s son.”
“You did not stay long enough to act as her hero when Adramelech attacked her.”
“I did not know she would get pulled in there!”
“Well, what is done is done. Your lady is safe now, thanks to the fae/warlock. You owe him a debt of gratitude for saving her. Which is why I have decided to send you to Wales.”
“What? Why?”
“The water god is on death’s doorstep, metaphorically, and when it is time to collect him, better that it be by someone who is sympathetic to his daughter’s tender feelings.” She tossed his tablet onto the side table where it landed with a clunk that made him cringe. “If you are to impress the water goddess, don’t forget to dress properly.”
She stood and as she opened a gateway to Britain’s best-known city, the clip-clop of horses’ hooves in London echoed inside Alfred’s deathly quiet abode. Before he could argue that he might not be the right man for this job, she had vanished. She had also forgotten to leave her tablet with him to use.
With a sigh, Alfred left his comfy bed. On his end table, his tablet winked to life, displaying an underwater scene where among undulating plants, little fishes swam. A shadow among those reeds caught his attention. He drew closer and spotted an eel swim by as if in a frantic hurry.
DEWER UNCONSCIOUSLY hugged Miss Adair closer before answering his mother’s accusation that he cared for this witch. All the while he kept channeling his energy into her, hoping to revive her strength. It felt too little because he was already exhausted from the battle with Adramelech. He could use his mother’s help, not only with safeguarding Grace’s family on their way to London but healing her, too.
He glanced at this fierce fae queen, his mind whirling on ways to get around her. His mother would sooner kill Grace than help her in any way. Hate seemed to be her calling card. Yet, she also knew how to love. There might be a sliver of an opening there. “You have always said caring for another person makes us weak. Yet, you profess to care for me.”
“You are my son.”
“You also cared for my father.”
“Which proves my point.”
“What about Adramelech?”
For the first time, she avoided his gaze. “What about him?”
“Why do you tolerate him?”
“That relationship is complicated.”
With a monumental effort, he held his tongue, suppressing the urge to spew out his suspicions about that vile demon. The time was not right. There was still too much hidden about what had truly happened the night his father was murdered. Instead, he simply said, “So is this one.”
“Why must I travel to London? I have business elsewhere. I am a busy woman.”
“Not too busy to keep you from interfering with my plans,” he said in dismissal. “In my absence, aside from protecting Miss Adair’s family, someone will have to deal with the underworld invasion of London. In Miss Adair’s absence, her father also needs assistance with whatever troubles him.”
“You do not need to curry favors with the Council,” his mother hissed.
There had never been much love lost between her husband’s people and her, since the Council had vehemently opposed one of their members marrying a dark fae. Upon Dewer’s father’s death, that yawning divide had grown into a chasm, and his mother’s bitterness toward the Council blossomed every time they rejected her son’s requests for assistance.
“They are a bunch of old men.” She practically spat in fury. “They have done nothing but betray you from the day you were born. As for this one’s father’s predicament about his idiotic sick fish, her haughty mother and bizarre grandmother are more than capable of dealing with that silly crisis.”
Dewer frowned. How did she know about the fish? He barely remembered Dotty mentioning her son-in-law’s fish in their drawing room. Could it have been just this morning? It felt as if that conversation had occurred months ago.
With effort, he continued to channel his energy into Miss Adair and focused his thoughts on the discussion at hand. “You owe me, mother. For Adramelech’s incursion into the upper world, for interrupting my journey to Town, and now, for Miss Adair’s illness.”
“How am I responsible for this one injuring herself?”
At least she had not denied the other two reasons, and that worked to his benefit. “Miss Adair would not be so exhausted if she had not been weak after healing Jack, who was only injured by Adramelech thanks to your interference. Jack’s father died to protect mine, your late husband. We both owe Miss Adair a debt of gratitude for saving Jack.”
“Huh!” his mother grunted.
He had won! Dewer reined in his elation.
Fact: Victory with his mother always required a painful sacrifice.
“I call a fae bargain,” he said. Best to make this a formal agreement she could not wriggle out of. He would need to make this deal sweet enough. “Help me revive Grace and ensure her family reaches London in safety and consider our slate clean.”
Her glance returned to his with keen, calculating intent. “Completely?”
He set his mouth in a grim line and nodded.
She sat back and watched him carefully. “Even for what I did to Merryn Pendraven and her family?”
Miss Adair, who had begun to stir in his arms, suddenly went still, as if she listened for his answer.
“For everything,” he said, cleaving himself from his past mistakes and reaching for his future. Miss Adair mattered above everything. A note of caution rose, reminding him of his mission to avenge his father’s death. Almost everything.
The young lady’s eyes opened wide and her startled gaze captured his. With effort, he tore away to strike his bargain. He might hold the indomitable Miss Adair in his arms, but his impossible mother held his heart in her grip. For without her approval, any relationship he wished to have with a woman was doomed to fail. Her reaction to his interest in Merryn had proven that.
His mother’s focus flicked from him to the woman he embraced. Her eyes narrowed and then she blinked, her expression shuttered before she nodded in acquiescence. “Agreed.”
GRACE SAT UP, AND THEN put her hands over her swimming head.
“Slowly, Miss Adair,” Mr. Dewer whispered as he braced her with a hand at her back, where they were sitting on the ground.
A shiver began where his ungloved hand imprinted onto Grace’s skin through her cloak and gown. Pinpricks of awareness raced across her flesh from that touch point. Feeling the weight of his mother’s gaze sear into where her son supported Grace, she resisted the urge to lean into Dewer’s delightful touch.
She turned around, slowly so her wavering sight would not completely desert her, and glanced warily between mother and son. “What have you both agreed to?”
She waited for one of the two people who had selflessly worked to revive her – she sensed their dark energies coursing through her like an icy river - to offer an explanation. Into that pregnant pause, Farfur came forward and licked her cheek. She absently fondled his fur as Bartos trod over and sat heavily against her back as if afraid she might collapse. She leaned against him, grateful for his silent strength.
“Travel arrangements,” Burns said, finally. “My son plans to accompany you to Wales with the water goddess, and I will accompany your mother and grandmother in his carriage to London.”
Grace was strangely comforted by the notion of Dewer accompanying her, knowing he planned to watch her back, too. She pictured him leaping through the gate to the underworld to save the water goddess and wanted no one else by her side. Ever. Burns traveling with her mother, on the other hand, would spell naught but a disaster. “That latter part of the plan is unnecessary,”
“Exactly what I pointed out,” Burns said. “The boy insists.”
“The matter is settled,” the boy, um...Dewer, said, and rose to his feet. He offered her an impersonal hand up, now properly gloved.
She accepted his offer and was swiftly on her feet. They were no more than a breath apart, leaving her a little out of breath and a great deal out of composure.
He blinked once, and then twice, his gaze slipping to her lips and lingering there with a burning hunger she wanted to quench. He prudently stepped away and turned his attention to his still-seated mother and extended both his hands.
Taking a gulp of breath, Grace stepped back, her heart hammering with excitement or shock, she was unsure which. This man brought her entire body awake faster than a nightmare. Did he expect to travel alone with her into Wales? Surely her mother would never allow it.
Where was her mother? In the past, the baroness had always sensed when Grace’s innocence was under assault and had been at her side like an avenging guardian angel before her daughter could find the words to say yea or nay to a tempting offer.
A check over her shoulder showed her grandmother’s white-knuckled grip was on her mother’s wrist. Ah! All of Grace’s defenders and her defenses, had deserted her. Even Burns, if she truly meant to accompany her mother and grandmother to London and leave her son in Grace’s lone company.
