Spell Bound (Darkly Enchanted) (16 page)

At the edge of the fields, a forest reared up as they climbed a hill.

Her lids grew heavy and she must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes, the car was bumping along an unpaved road, shooting spikes of pain through her head. After what seemed like hours, Gabriel pulled the car to a stop.

Nauseous, she looked out the window, barely able to make out the outline of a two-story house. Gods-be-damned, her head felt like someone was trying to cut a path out from the inside with a dull spoon.

Vaguely, she realized Gabriel was rounding the front of the car, heading toward her door. Behind her, she heard zippers opening and closing as Leo searched for something in the backpack.

A few seconds later, Leo’s hand appeared over the seat, clutching her brown prescription bottle.

She turned to give him as much of a smile as she could. “It’s not that bad.”

“What’s not that bad?”

Borelli’s low-pitched voice sounded just beside her. He’d opened her door, ready to reach in and pull her out.

She flinched away. If he touched her now, it’d feel like nails driving into her temples.

Before she could say anything, Leo grabbed Borelli’s arm. “Don’t.”

Borelli glanced from Leo to her and back again. His jaw clenched, but he nodded and backed away, leaving the door open for her.

Okay, she could do this. She could. She just needed to get out of the car, walk into the house and get horizontal. Surely there’d be a bed somewhere. She just needed to lie down for a little while.

Sliding off the seat, she had to grab the car door as a wave of nausea rolled through her. She barely avoided throwing up at the
grigorio
’s feet. And how embarrassing would that have been? “Where are we?”

“Safe.” Borelli grabbed her bag from the back seat and waved Leo up the short flight of stone stairs looming ahead of them. He waited for her to move before following.

With every step, the pain in her head intensified. She couldn’t let it take her down. Not yet. Alone, she could dissolve, but not now. Not in front of Borelli. She didn’t want him to think she was weak.

Grabbing the metal railing to the side of the stairs, she pulled herself up each step. When she reached the top, she felt like she’d climbed Mount Everest. And was about to die from exposure.

Leo stood before the large front door, waiting.

“Hey, kid,” Borelli said. “Never stand in front of a door if you can help it. Leaves you vulnerable.”

Borelli stepped to the side of the door as he reached for a string around his neck. Pulling it from beneath his shirt, he revealed an antique silver key that he slipped into the lock. The door opened without a sound, and he stuck his head inside for just a second before he waved them through.

Goddess, please, just a few more steps.

The nails in her temples became railroad spikes, crushing against her brain. Her knees started to buckle and she stumbled and nearly fell. Only Leo’s small body by her side kept her from hitting the ground.

“Through the atrium and dining room, the bedrooms are at the back on the left.” Borelli’s voice rumbled in her ear. “Lay down.”

Barely able to see, her eyes squeezed nearly shut, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it until Leo took her hand, guiding her.

She stumbled ahead, agony increasing with every step.

Chapter Seven

Gabriel watched them make their way through the rooms, watched Shea take every step as if it were killing her.

He felt useless and he abso-fucking-lutely hated that. He was
grigorio
. He’d been raised to believe he could find a way to fix or fight anything.

He wanted to pick her up, tuck her in bed and make her better simply by the force of his will.

Which was really stupid. He could only perform rudimentary healing spells. And the kid had told him not to touch her. Probably aggravated the migraine.

What he should do is check the house, tucked into a forest in the southeastern Berks County hills. The wards had been in place when they’d arrived but that didn’t mean he should let his guard down.

His gaze tracked to the back of the house. Or maybe he should follow Shea and Leo to make sure they found the right room.

Yeah, it was a lame-ass excuse, but he needed to make sure she was okay. And maybe the kid would need his help with something.

The door to the first room was open, and Leo knelt beside the bed, his back to the door.

Shea lay on the bed, curled into a ball, arms over her head, as if warding off blows. Her eyes were squeezed tight but she looked to be asleep.

He’d seen this woman take a right hook to the chin and smile. The pain had to be excruciating if it had her laid out like this.

“Leo.”

The kid spared him a quick glance over his shoulder but immediately went back to staring at Shea. Leo looked almost as pale as his sister, and Gabriel spent several gut-wrenching seconds debating what he should do.

What would he do if it that was Nino sitting there, looking like his heart was bleeding?

Walking over to the bed, he shut off his internal critic and let instinct take over. Bending, he picked up the kid and held him. Little arms twined around his neck as Leo started to cry. The sound made his chest ache so badly, he wondered if he’d broken a rib during the fight.

Bullshit. You know you didn’t.

He walked out of the room, the boy now wrapped around his body and clinging like a monkey. If he loosened his arms, Leo wouldn’t have fallen. But Gabriel didn’t let go. When they got back to the atrium, he sat on the couch in the living room and let the kid cry himself to sleep.

* * *

After he’d put the kid in the room next to Shea’s, Gabriel picked up the phone and dialed.

“Serena.”

“Hello, Gabriel. Is everything alright?”

Not by a long shot. “Tell me about Kyle and Celeste. Everything you know.”

He heard Serena take a deep breath, caught off guard by his unexpected demand.

As a
grigorio
, he’d been taught the history of the
boschetta
, had had it drummed into his brain until he could recite it in his sleep. He knew Celeste had been Serena’s best friend. That Celeste and her husband Antonio had been blood-bound before Antonio’s death five-hundred years ago. The ancient rite of mixing their blood together during sex had enabled Celeste and Antonio to find one another each time they were reborn. Like a magical homing beacon. He knew that Kyle had been born with Antonio’s soul.

He knew that they’d disappeared, seemingly off the face of the earth, more than twenty years ago.

“What exactly are you looking for?” she asked.

His heavy sigh reverberated through the phone line. “Just… Do you know if Kyle had any children before he met Celeste?”

“Gabriel,” Serena’s voice held a breathless quality he’d never heard from such a pragmatic woman before. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know.” Great Goddess, he didn’t even want to think about what he was trying to say. What it would mean to this woman. “Just answer the question. Could he have had other children?”

Serena went silent for several longs seconds. “Celeste found Kyle when he was fifteen but did not take him for her own until he was twenty-one. I suppose there could have been other children. But not after he and Celeste were together. They were devoted to each other.”

Yeah, that’s what he’d thought. Still, he’d had to ask.

 “Gabriel, the girl. Is she… Does she say she’s…”

Hell, even Serena couldn’t finish the thought. Not out loud.

So he did it for her. “Yeah. She claims she’s Celeste and Kyle’s daughter.”

Another pause. “Do you believe she is?”

That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? After all these years—

“Gabriel, what do you think?”

His sigh made the phone line crackle. “I don’t know what to think yet. We’ll be there as soon as we can. I want to make sure we don’t have a tail.”

* * *

“Quinn, I believe Gabriel may need your help.”

Quinn Kennett ignored the familiar tug Serena’s husky voice always gave his libido and flopped onto the sofa in his apartment in Philadelphia.

“Hello to you, too, babe. How’s it going? I’m fine, by the way.”

He heard her sigh, heard her disappointment. And couldn’t care less.

“Quinn, please. I know things haven’t been good between us—”

He snorted, his upper lip curling back in a snarl. “Yeah, well, considering the fact that you only call when you need something, I think I pretty much deserve to be pissed off.”

Shit. Shit, that sounded so damn whiny. Why did he let this woman do this to him?

Because he was an idiot, that’s why. A gods-damned reincarnated, blood-bound idiot.

And wasn’t that a cosmic fucking joke?

For seven years now, since he was seventeen, he’d been pining after this woman. The woman who was supposed to be his. The woman who, five-hundred years ago, had bound herself by blood and love to his soul.

And the woman who, today, wouldn’t allow herself to love him back.

 “Quinn, please.” Her persuasive voice floated over the phone lines. “We don’t have time for this now. Gabriel needs you.”

“And you don’t, do you, babe?”

She didn’t answer right away and he held his breath waiting for her reply.

Gods, you’re such an idiot.