Zurlo, Michele - Torment [Daughters of Circe 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (3 page)

“No,” she conceded, “but I will be.”

“Soren has yet to meet a woman who can hold his interest for more than a few weeks,” Shade said in his characteristically serious way. “And he has no interest in being a stepfather to your dozen children. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve decided to move home?” she asked. She sounded like she hoped the answer was in the negative. “You left me, Shade. You can’t expect me to wait for you forever.”

Shade popped the plate in the microwave and ignored her tone. “I don’t expect you to wait at all, Tiff. I’m not coming back, not now, not ever. We’ve both made our decisions. I do not begrudge you a shot at becoming Soren’s mate. I’m only warning you that he isn’t looking for one.”

“Thanks,” she said in a way that wasn’t thankful. “He’ll change his mind, and I’ll be here when he does.”

Tiffany’s compulsion was to have children. She liked being pregnant, and she liked being a mother. Her youngest child was a full-grown adult, so she had successfully fought her compulsion for more than twenty years. Shade was about to advise her against holding her breath in waiting for his brother, but he stopped suddenly, scenting Soren’s presence.

Soren entered the kitchen from the back door and surveyed the scene before him. With a wide grin, he said, “Don’t tell me the two of you have decided to reconcile? Moving to the middle of nowhere, Tiffany?”

Face flaming, Tiffany glared and spun on her heel. The brothers shared a laugh at the slamming of the front door indicating Tiffany’s departure. In public, neither would be flippant with her. She was Captain of the Guard, and they afforded her that respect. But in private, she was the power-hungry woman who had seduced them both.

Soren looked over Shade’s shoulder at the plate of food he lowered from the microwave. “That’s my dinner.”

“There’s more in the fridge,” Shade said. “Did you have to be so mean to her?”

Rolling his eyes, Soren snorted and went to the refrigerator for his dinner. “She offered, I took. I can’t help it if she thinks there was more to it or that I would ever choose her for a mate. I did make myself clear.”

Sitting at the table with his meal and a large mug of home-brewed ale, Shade eyed Soren thoughtfully. “She’s beautiful.”

“She dumped you, big brother. I wouldn’t even have sampled her if I thought you’d mind.” Three high-pitched beeps punctuated his words, and the motor of the microwave kicked into gear. “Alethea would kill us if she knew we were nuking this dinner.”

“I have no intention of telling her,” Shade assured his brother. “She will make a good wife and mother.”

Soren knew Shade wasn’t talking about his elderly housekeeper with grandchildren their age. “For you, maybe, but not me. I keep telling her to visit you. You have to be lonely as all hell out there. None of the gossip in town has you in anybody’s bed, Shaden. I’m concerned about you.”

“Don’t be,” Shade growled. He wasn’t upset that Soren had used his full name. Now that their parents were gone, his brother was the only one who ever used it. “I manage.”

A wrinkle of distaste marred Soren’s smooth face. “You aren’t consorting with humans, are you?”

While he did occasionally, Shade had no intention of admitting it to his brother or anyone else. Besides, Soren didn’t give voice to his real question, which was whether or not Shade had found where Hope had been reborn. Both brothers knew it was better for Shade to hide that information. Soren’s compulsion had forced him to take Hope’s life. It would force him to do it again and again and again, no matter how much it devastated Shade.

Shade changed the subject. “Where did you go tonight? It’s not like you to visit the human settlements.”

Soren joined Shade at the table. “As you have previously indicated, human settlements in the region are no longer small or sparse. They reproduce at an alarming rate. I can see why our ancestors culled nearby cities and drove humans far, far away.”

“You haven’t done anything stupid, have you?” Shade asked. Soren could be impulsive.

“They’re also taller than they used to be,” Soren continued, ignoring his brother. “I think we could blend in if we chose to live among them. Witches do it.”

“Witches have always done it. They procreate with humans. It’s a blended culture.”

“Which makes the offspring iffy,” Soren said. “Their powers are so diluted that some witches lack training or even an awareness of who they are. Wolves can procreate with humans, though, thank goodness, not with witches. Well, unless you make them into wolves. Can you imagine the nightmare that would produce?” With a disgusted sneer, Soren crammed a large cut of steak into his mouth.

Shade didn’t answer. He knew Soren was baiting him, but he did not know why. The offspring of a witch and a wolf would be incredibly powerful. Able to control the elements and shape-shift, the being would be unstoppable. It was the reason ancient wolf councils around the globe had unilaterally banned the turning of witches.

Shade’s thoughts turned inward. He wanted a wife and a litter of children. He had every intention of finding Hope, turning her into a witch/wolf hybrid, and having lots and lots of children with her. He didn’t know what she looked like now, but she couldn’t help but be beautiful. Her inner beauty and goodness assured it.

He missed her with a loneliness that was crushing, a loneliness that Soren, though he had caused it, had no way of understanding.

Torrey went to the tiny park near her apartment. On a night like this, it was the only place she could hope to meditate close to nature. If she went back to her apartment, the three useless books she had on witchcraft would mock her from the high shelf where she stowed them all those years ago.

Human tomes on witches and their magic were of no use to her. They were largely theoretical, and even the ones that contained a spell or two lacked fundamental aspects that made all the difference. Frank had unwittingly taught her how to scry when she was a teenager. To this day, he wasn’t aware of the extent to which she spied on him, hoping for some clue as to how to use her powers.

Through meditation, she had learned some basic control over some of the elements. She could summon a gust of wind or a brief rainstorm.

The park wasn’t far from her apartment. A jogging path meandered through a half acre of green carved from the surrounding concrete and asphalt. Trees dotted the landscape, benches dotted the path, and, thanks to the city council’s shrinking budget, weeds dotted the lawn and flower beds. It had once been a nice park, but now it was on a downward spiral.

Settling next to a puddle of rainwater between two trees, Torrey searched for Riley. After a long, long time, the water clouded over, and then it cleared to reveal her little sister. The picture was tiny, large enough to show her that Riley was still unconscious but not big enough to see much more. The fabric under her head looked like a car seat. Unable to widen the lens of the picture, the only information she could glean was that Riley was alive and in a vehicle with black leather seats.

A tear of frustration dispelled the image. Leaning back against the nearest tree, Torrey closed her eyes. Sometimes understanding came to her while meditating. The worst that could happen would be that she learned nothing new.

Firmly grounded, Torrey reached out to nature, pulling the spirit of the grass and trees into her. Digging deeper, she connected with the soil and the rocks, with the water vapor in the air and the droplets on the sidewalk. Her jeans were cold and soaked with rainwater, but she ignored the small discomfort. The world fell away.

She zoomed through the atmosphere to find a Jeep speeding away from the city, toward a desolate-looking mountainous area. It was the perfect setting for a wolf pack. People kept to themselves in the rural mountains. Nobody would ask questions about beings that lived for hundreds of years.

Torrey wanted to follow the Jeep, but she had reached her limit. Actually, she had pushed her abilities far beyond anything she’d ever done before. Desperate, she tried to hang on, but blackness closed in, obscuring her view.

“It’s a charm.”

The voice came out of nowhere. Startled, Torrey opened her eyes to find herself back in the park. A man stood over her, blocking the dim light that managed to filter through the trees from the nearest streetlight. He was average height and had an average build, but his features were hidden in the gloom.

“Pardon?”

“It’s a charm,” he repeated. His voice was rough, as if he didn’t use it often. “You can’t follow him because he’s placed a charm to keep you and any other witches away from his territory. It’s common practice for a wolf community.”

Torrey swallowed. This man was not a witch. How had he known what she was doing? On a whim, she asked, “How can I get around the charm?”

The man smiled, which was odd because Torrey couldn’t see his face, yet she had no doubt he was smiling. “You can’t, not yet.”

“Can you?”

A low, rusty laugh drifted down to her. “That’s a more complicated question than you can fathom.” He held out a hand to help Torrey to her feet.

She dusted her backside as well as she could. Fall debris and sharply cold water stained her clothing, making her attempt pointless. “Do you know where he’s taking her?” Careful to test him, she left out names.

The man shook his head. Now that she was standing, she should have been able to make out his features, but he remained as vague and indistinct as he had been from her unfavorable vantage point on the ground. “There is much I cannot tell you and much I do not know. I can tell you who is best suited to help you with this quest.”

Torrey regarded him with quiet wonder. “How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you’re not in league with Seth, trying to throw me off his track?”

He made a movement that might have been a shrug. “How do you know when anyone is telling the truth? Was this
Seth
telling the truth when he promised that your mother would not die of cancer? Is death not the inevitable result of the drug he gave you?”

She understood his implication. The literal truth was not always the whole truth. Truth was subjective. Intent was everything. Impatiently, Torrey pushed her hair out of her face. “Why are you willing to help me?”

A smile flashed, more in her mind than on his face. “That is a good question. Would you like this man’s name and location?”

“I’d like you to answer my question.” Though she wasn’t used to pushing her will on anyone, the steel in Torrey’s voice was authentic.

“I cannot, not to your satisfaction. I can only tell you that while I regret the events in your life that have led you here, your arrival was inevitable. Trust your instincts, Torrey. They will not steer you wrong.” He reached out, capturing her cold hand in his warm one. “A warm shower and a good night’s sleep are what you need. Begin your quest tomorrow.”

Torrey looked down at her hand as he released it. Her fingers were curled around a folded slip of paper. She shot a questioning look at the man, but he was gone. The paper was her only evidence she hadn’t imagined the entire surreal encounter. As she stared at it, the air took on the consistency of water.

* * * *

Afternoon dawned bright and chilly. Torrey sat up slowly, shaking away the last vestiges of her deep slumber. She looked around her room, blinking it into focus. The queen-sized bed was the same. The laundry basket in the corner overflowed as it had ever since her mother fell ill. A paperback novel was on the floor, right where she’d dropped it when it failed to hold her interest. Everything was where she left it, so why did she have the nagging suspicion something wasn’t right?

Riley. Frank. The shadowy man in the park. Throwing back the covers, Torrey looked down to find she was in her pajamas. Judging by the rat’s nest state of her hair, she had showered before falling asleep. She had no memory of taking a warm shower or of falling asleep or of leaving the park, but she felt clean and refreshed, more alert and alive than she had felt in a long, long time. The man’s suggestion had taken on the air of a command, then of a spell. Was he a witch? He was easily the most powerful being she’d ever encountered. He didn’t trip her witch-sensing switch.