Marcus wrapped his hands around the tall green glass and chugged, immune to its taste by now.
It was his third.
His abused power channels still hurt, but it no longer felt like an army of fire ants trying to eat their way out. One last gulp and he set the glass back into the hands of the witch who had delivered it. “I think that’s enough.”
“I should hope so,” said Moira briskly, patting the pillow behind his head. “The last time I had to dose you three times was when you got into Uncle Billy’s whiskey stash.”
He was pretty sure her intent back then had been punishment, not cure. Marcus looked down at the small girl curled up in his lap like a sleeping kitten. “I had to do it.”
“Uncle Billy surely didn’t think so.”
He watched her shuffle things around on a tray, making room for a glass that would have fit in the first place. “In the circle. Jamie was running out of bandwidth. I had to give him a push.”
“Did I say any different?” She reached in behind him again, poking and squishing, her forehead inches from his. And for just a fraction of a moment, his battered mental powers functioned, and he felt her soul shaking.
He should have known. Her Irish always thickened in sorrow and fear. He stopped her hands as gently as he could. “Enough with the infernal pillow plumping. I’m fine.” He glanced down at Morgan. “We both are.”
Her breath caught.
He ignored it. The rock of his life was terrified-and he needed her brave. “We’re in a castle guarded by the world’s best coding team and half the witches of Realm.” He touched her cheek. “And if Aervyn’s been let loose again, probably a couple of alligators, too.”
He could feel her mighty heart finding its footing as he spoke.
So he kept talking. Babbling. “Ginia says Aaron’s got the kitchen under control, the garden’s a mess, and Kenna’s learning to crawl out on the ramparts.”
Moira sniffled, brushing invisible crumbs off his chest. “She’s a fierce wee thing, that one. Didn’t even stop for a nap first.”
He dug for his best gruff bachelor voice. “She’ll end up alligator bait if she’s not careful.”
“Alligators don’t eat witches.” The light in her eyes was dim-but it was there. “Aervyn promised me so.”
He could feel the boost from the green goo fading. “We can always dangle him over the moat and see what happens.”
“His toes are pretty stinky.” Moira laid a hand on his forehead, eyes twinkling properly now. “And Nell would dangle you next.”
She would. He could feel his eyes getting heavy. Blasted healers and their sleep spells. He had things to do.
“Tomorrow,” said Moira softly. “We’ll watch over you both tonight.”
He smiled as he faded into haze. His rock was back.
Chapter 19
Marcus stood on the high tower walk of Morgan’s castle, missing his remote mountain keep. He craved its solitude far less now, but he’d always slept well there. His kingdom for a decent night’s sleep.
Morgan had woken at 2 a.m. on the dot, entirely recovered from her ordeal and ready to play.
He needed to reprogram the castle guards. They were rather surly in the middle of the night.
Fortunately, morning had brought a trio of cheery babysitters and a bacon-biscuit breakfast. He munched on the biscuit and watched the girls, playing with Morgan on the ramparts below.
As prisons went, it was a happy one.
“You’re a hard man to track down.”
Only fancy footwork and a damn fast levitation spell kept him from spilling his very real brains on the virtual rocks below. “What the hell are
His visitor smiled. “You know who I am, do you?”
There couldn’t be two gold-spangled mediums capable of waltzing into Realm whenever they pleased. “Adele Underwood, Las Vegas fraud.”
Her eyes sparked with irritation. “I came to deliver a message. You keep being rude to me and I’ll walk back the way I came.”
“Right.” Marcus turned away, looking over the lands that would be his home for the foreseeable future. Dust bunnies would have to wait until Morgan’s power stabilized. “Let me guess. This one can be mine for the low price of $4.99 a minute.”
“You don’t like who I am or what I do.” Adele’s voice hinted at volcanoes. The non-dormant kind. “But mostly I think you’re mad as hell that your brother decided to talk to me instead of coming to you.”
“You might say that.” Marcus liked the two-foot height advantage the tower walk was currently giving him. “I’m mad as hell about a lot of things.”
“So I’ve heard,” said Adele briskly, climbing up beside him. “He
“The mists are evil.” The touch of them yesterday still shuddered in his brain.
“No.” Adele waved at his head guardsman, staring up in slack-jawed shock. “They’re dangerous, but that’s entirely different. Evan’s magic works through the mists-he can’t talk to anyone without them.”
“Like hell.” Marcus whirled, a sword in his hands before he even thought it. “I spent a thousand terrified nights under my bed with the mists licking my toes.” And he’d have gladly given his life to them for just one word from Evan.
“And your brother spent those thousand nights crying on the other side of the veil.” Adele pushed the sword out of his nerveless fingers. “It took years for him to grow into his magic, just as it did for you. You weren’t the only small boy sad and alone.”
He’d have sworn his heart had no blood left. He’d have been wrong. Words scraped out over the jagged nails in his throat. “Then why did he go?”
She only shook her head. “I don’t know.”
He did. Because something greater than the love of a brother had called. And Evan had answered without looking back even once. Into the mists and forever away.
“He was five.” Ring-bedecked hands closed over his. “Just a boy, and facing magic far bigger than he’d ever known.” Adele blew out a harsh breath. “You both were.”
He hadn’t blamed Evan. Then. Now might be a different story.
Adele turned to look over the scenery one last time. “He has a very specific message for you. Perhaps it makes a little more sense to me now.” She turned her head in his direction. “He says to stop being such a stupid- head.”
Marcus teetered, memory swamping him. His brother, always inventive, had armed some of Aunt Moira’s gardenias with fire power, and they’d been playing flower wars.
A fun game until their owner had walked out her back door and Evan, devilish gleam in his eyes, had taken aim at her skirts. Marcus’s mind-hissed “stop being such a stupid-head” hadn’t deterred his brother in the slightest, but it had left no doubt who the culprits were-in his haste, he’d sprayed the mindsend into every head within two blocks.
It had been the first time they’d met the inside of Aunt Moira’s cauldron. Two scrubbing pads-Evan’s for misuse of magic, and Marcus’s for misuse of the English language.
Stupid-head. Well, if Evan thought he was being every kind of idiot, he could bloody well show up and say so. “I don’t suppose he sent you anything more useful than that?”
Adele shook her head. “He seemed tired.” She raised an eyebrow. “But I got the distinct impression the two of you’d had some kind of argument.”
Marcus snorted. “I can hardly argue with a figment of your imagination.” Throwing a witch temper tantrum on
