“What’s with all the cats, Izzie?” Ella asked, almost to herself. Hearing the heated conversation gaining volume indoors, she was unsure her friend would even hear her.
“Stay still or you’ll ruin the effect I’m creating with your hair.”
Ella ran her eyes over the flat grass several stories below, where the cats roamed. The garden ended at the edge of a cliff, and a rocky expanse dropped below. Sandwiched between the ocean and the land lay a small beach.
Maybe that’s the answer. A place away from the rest of the world. A haven where they could live in peace. Is it possible?
“Sorry, Ella. Christa will not leave me alone. The cats? Well, my ancestors were led to this island by a strange voice. Sounds crazy, I know, but that’s how the legend goes. When they arrived centuries ago, the cats were the only inhabitants. Over the years, more have appeared. We believe they are mystical creatures and contain the souls of our departed. Who reside here to protect us…ow…you and those bobby pins!” Isabella shouted at the novice witch.
“Ow…my fingers…you burned my fingers!” Christa shouted.
“I’ll set your hair on fire if you keep stabbing me.”
Ella laughed at the banter, knowing her friend would not carry out her threat, as she liked the young witch. She stared down at the gold and black cat who peered up from the ground, considering the witch’s words. Listening to the rhythmic ocean as it rocked back and forth toward the shore drowned out the arguing from inside. This tranquil place and the reason they were here made the precarious situation they faced less terrifying.
Less real.
It was easy to forget they were fighting the shadow queen. The Morrigan. Back in December, the goddess had issued an ultimatum: join her or risk the consequences as she created her army, slaughtering innocents in a battle for power. The bitch had threatened to use Marcus as a means to resurrect her old love, Dagda. The thought made her blood run cold with fury. But the New Year had come and gone. The threats the Morrigan had cast were left unfulfilled. Maybe that’s all her words had been—idle threats she had no way of accomplishing.
Ella caught sight of the rustic arbor set up along the beach ready for the Valentine’s Day handfasting between Isabella Lockhart and the vampire prince, Roman De’ Luca. Thick, bare branches curved to form a semi-circle where the bride and groom would stand beneath a canopy of wisteria and exchange their vows. Two hundred guests, mostly vampires, would witness Roman and his witch declare their love.
“Enough. I don’t recognize myself anymore.”
Swirling around to calm the bride, the stench of death caught her mid-stride. Clamping a hand over her nose, she rushed inside and glanced back at the balcony, wondering what would cause such a horrible smell. But as the witches continued to bicker, the malodorous odor vanished. Once inside, she stared at Isabella, and it was true what the witch said. Ella smiled at Christa, who pouted, and she knew right away what she needed to do.
Isabella swiveled her chair around and rose to her full height. Dressed in her satin negligee, she looked perfect, but Ella knew it was not the look her friend wished for. It wasn’t Isabella, the warrior witch turned vampire.
“Christa, you’ve done an amazing job considering Isabella is not an easy customer to please. One who perhaps is suffering from a case of jitters on her big day. I think a glass of chilled champagne would cheer her up. Would you mind? I saw Raine setting up some in the kitchen.”
The reed-thin witch smiled eagerly, clapped her hands, and bounced toward the oak door. “Of course, I should’ve thought of that before. I’ll be right back.”
The door clicked shut behind the girl Isabella was training, and Ella approached her friend, who hadn’t smiled since she had stepped inside the room this morning.
“Christa’s certainly enthusiastic,” Ella said, watching Isabella frown.
“Her enthusiasm is exhausting,” Isabella replied, wandering around the pretty bedroom, headed for the balcony.
“What’s going on, Isabella? If you’re having second thoughts, you can end this right now. I’ll help you escape, if you wish.”
Isabella rolled her rose gold engagement ring around before she slid her gaze toward her. “Jilt Roman at the altar? Are you crazy? Roman will never let me go, and I don’t want him to, Ella. But at the same time—this marriage terrifies me. He’s the most secretive man I’ve ever known. But there’s also a side to him, one he rarely shows, that’s endearing. He also understands my unique needs. Anyway, despite the fact I am a vampire, I’m not like him, and he knows it. They know it. I’m still very much a witch…an outsider.”
Isabella shook her head, the frustration marring her perfect features, and Ella sighed. Several months ago, the Morrigan had attacked Isabella, draining her human life until the only viable option was to transform the witch into a vampire. Although reluctant, Roman agreed, despite knowing Isabella had never wanted to be changed. Since then, the fiery witch had taken to her new life without complication, as if she were born to be a vampire.
“I thought after the change, life would be different. But I still feel so much. I swear, at times, I hear my heartbeat and feel my lungs expand with air. Crazy, I know, and I have accepted the new version of me. But to pledge myself to him for eternity is a little scary, don’t you think? Especially when there’s so much I don’t know about him. Like, for instance, Roman hides away in his office in Boston or New York, where he’s surrounded by beautiful vampires all day, and he never discusses his business with me.”
Ella listened to her friend, who rarely spoke of her feelings, and she understood what
