Spell Bound (Darkly Enchanted) (3 page)

But did Uni hear? Did She care?

Hell, after everything she’d seen in the world, after her parents’ murders, Shea wasn’t sure the Great Goddess existed anymore.

But monsters did exist. And for those, she had weapons.

She lifted the attonitum from its spot on the bedside table. It looked like a cross between a revolver and an inoculation gun and would be useless in the hand of an
eteri
.

But in hers… The iron grip warmed to her touch, while the quartz crystal concentration chamber pulsed with a pale pink light, responding to her
arus
, the magic inherent in the blood of all Etruscans. The solid copper barrel would focus that power wherever she pointed, strengthening it into a heated blast similar to a laser.

There was nothing sleek about the attonitum, nothing like the Beretta Px4 Storm her dad had taught her to shoot and that she always carried. But the gun didn’t give her the headache the attonitum did.

Such a failure.

Using magic was always a lesson in pain. Her head pounded whenever she worked a spell or used her Goddess Gift to heal even a minor cut. And though she’d developed a mental shield to keep the voices to a dull buzz, a migraine was never far away.

But she’d use the weapon, to protect Leo. She’d made a promise. And she knew, even in death, her mom would hold her to it.

Like someone had twisted the volume dial, the voices grew louder, chattering over each other like angry hornets. Though she couldn’t understand them, Shea knew they were warning her. She and Leo were out of time.

Reaching under the bed for the backpack always within arm’s reach, she pulled out her mom’s grimoire and a sheet of paper fluttered out from between the pages.

She didn’t have to read it to know what it said. She’d memorized months ago what her mom had written before her death.

“Too much to say and not enough time. Know we love you and your brother. In time, we hope you can forgive us for all we hid from you. Please understand that we did what we thought was right.

The men who will kill us will come after Leo. These men work for Dario Paganelli. If Paganelli catches you, he’ll kill you, Shea. He’ll take your brother and pervert his powers to hunt the remaining Priestesses.

Neither you nor your brother can fall into Paganelli’s hands. The consequences are unspeakable. Use the locator spell to find Mr. Brown in Reading, Pennsylvania. He’s a
grigorio
and a friend. He’ll protect you both. Tell him I sent you and that all is done in time.

And always remember we love you.”

Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them back.

Their dad had been a
grigorio
, too, one of the legendary Etruscan warrior priests. Great warriors who could handle a sword as easily as a gun and who always had a ready smile. Her dad had seemed invincible.

And Dario had killed him.

The bed jostled and she turned to find Leo staring at her.

She smiled at the drowsy look on his sweet face and ran a hand through his soft dark hair.

“Hey, bud. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged but said nothing.

Biting back a sigh, she leaned forward to lay a kiss on his forehead. “Think you’re awake enough to give me a hand with something?”

Leo’s eyes widened as he nodded, but he held out his arms for his morning hug first. She was already halfway there and wrapped his skinny little body against her.

So small. He was so small.

No, she couldn’t let fear screw with her mind right now. They had a spell to perform.

“Okay, then.” She opened the grimoire to the spell her mom had mentioned. “Let’s see what we need.”

She and Leo headed to the window. Since empathic healing was her only Goddess Gift, and headaches and migraines hampered her spell-working abilities, she needed Leo’s unusual strength to feed most spells.

It used to scare the shit out of her, that sense of helplessness she got whenever she tried and failed to work a spell.

Her dad had always said, “It’s all right, sweetheart. You’ll get the hang of it eventually.” He’d never given up on her. Her mom…

Since she couldn’t think about that without getting depressed, she pushed it out of her mind and focused on the task ahead. Setting an unopened phone book on the window sill, where the sun shone directly through, she dropped a pinch of saffron, a pinch of cinnamon and a topaz stone to draw the light into the bottom of her moon bowl, which would capture and hold the spell’s energy until she released it.

Lifting her face into the sun, she said, “Usil, Lord of the Amber Light, hear our humble plea. Illuminate the abode of Mr. Brown with your soft breath.” She bit down on her bottom lips as a sharp pain knifed through her temples. “Okay, Leo, blow.”

Leaning close, Leo blew the dry ingredients over the phone book, the scent of the spices strong in the morning air. When they’d settled on the book, Shea opened it somewhere near the middle.

Please, let me have done this right…

Shea breathed a sigh of relief when the soft breeze they’d called with the spell blew across the pages for several seconds. As quickly as it started, it stopped again.

Starting at the left, she ran her finger down the columns of names and numbers. And there, in the center of the left page, listed under appliance repair in the yellow pages, was a number for G. Brown. A number with eight digits and a street name but no building number.

It looked like a misprint, but Shea knew better. Since she couldn’t use a regular phone to make this call, she’d have to wait until she got to Harry’s to use the old black rotary phone in the dressing room. That phone was connected to the communication system only Etruscans could use.

More waiting.

Please don’t let it be too late.

She turned to Leo with a smile, this one more natural. “Looks like it worked, babe. We’ll give Mr. Brown a call later, okay? You and me, we’re a great team, huh?”

Leo nodded but he didn’t smile. He never smiled. He barely ever spoke.

And it broke her heart.

She took a deep breath. “Alright, then, how about some breakfast?”

Leo’s big dark eyes, so like their dad’s, just watched her. Silent. Waiting.

Shea wished she knew for what.

* * *

Another dead end.

Gabriel Borelli slammed the front door behind him and threw his coat at the nearest chair. It missed and fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

Fuck it. He’d check the weapons later.

Right now, he needed a drink. That bottle of Mezzaluna vodka in the cabinet didn’t stand a chance. Not after the month he’d had.

Four fucking-endless weeks chasing a rumor that turned into a dead end. The
versipellis
Harry had put him in touch with had been positive she’d seen a man who fit Dario Paganelli’s description in a restaurant in the Outer Banks. It’d been his first lead in more than a year, but it’d been a damn bust.

And now it was time to face the music for his absence.

Bottle in hand, he took a healthy swallow before he picked up the black handset from the 1940s-era phone and dialed the eight-number code to get Phil.

“May I help you?”

As always, that high-pitched female voice made him think of the old Lily Tomlin phone-operator skit on “Laugh In.” His dad had loved that show.

“It’s Brown. Messages?”

Phil’s purely feminine sigh made his temples throb.

Damn, this is gonna suck.

“There are several, as you would know if you’d checked in every week, as you’re supposed to. Not once a month, Gabriel.”

Gods be damned. He was a
grigorio
, a lean, mean, Etruscan bad-ass whose enhanced senses made it damn-near impossible for anyone to get the drop on him. His affinity for all metals but iron gave him the power to slap bullets out of the air with a simple spell. And his unusual strength made him hard to kill and nearly impossible to beat in a fight.

And Phil was not his mother so why the hell did he, a twenty-eight-year-old man, feel like he had to apologize?

No way. He wasn’t gonna do it. He didn’t need to—

“Look, I’m sorry.” Shit, you’re an idiot. “I’ve been out of touch—”

“And where exactly have you been?”

Not in this lifetime, babe.
“Personal business. What messages?”

Phil huffed and, for a few seconds, he was sure he was going to have to apologize again and that might just make him chug the rest of the bottle.

“Crimson Moon called three times.”

Yeah, he’d figured his mom would call at least once while he was gone, even though she had his cell number.

“Lupe’s Low End called twice.”

Goddamn Quinn. His best friend needed to get over his distrust of cell phones, too.

“And one attempt was made to procure your services.”

Fuck. For Phil to forward an outside call to him meant someone had asked for him by name. That usually only happened when another
grigorio
wanted his help.

“Who was it?”

“Unknown.”

Huh? “What the hell does that mean?”

“That means,” Phil huffed, “she didn’t leave her name.”

“And this female asked for me by name?”