27. Cormac
Cormac
H ours had passed, though I wasn’t sure how many. Near darkness loomed around me, the quarter moon throwing a faint light across the pale grass. The air in the plantation’s vast forest was heavy with the lingering sweetness of rotting leaves and damp earth. Each step I took stirred the ground beneath me, releasing a musk that clung to my senses. I came to the old barn marveling at how unchanged it appeared. What was it now that the plantation no longer needed the animals that had once been housed there?
A cool breeze rustled the leaves, but it did little to chase away the heat of the night. I emerged into the clearing where it had all happened. The power of the coven radiated through the ground. This must be where they still held their rituals. The trees encircling it had grown thicker, their branches weaving together in an impenetrable border. I could almost see my brothers and me standing there once again, the light between us—blinding, consuming—something far more than just the glow of the moon. A shiver coursed through me, a memory crawling up from the depths of my mind. Something had happened that night—something I didn’t understand then and still didn’t. The ground beneath my feet felt different now, firmer, as if the earth had closed over a secret it didn’t intend to share. But eventually, I would need to uncover it.
For now, though, I had a more immediate problem. I pulled my phone from my pocket. I dialed Conall’s number, not caring about the time difference. My knuckles turned a sharper shade of white as I gripped the phone against my ear.
“Hello?” His voice was cheerful, and it annoyed me how light-hearted he sounded.
“Still at the manor?” I asked, skipping past pleasantries. I paced the clearing, stopping to kick at a ring of grass that had been burned in the past few weeks.
“Haven’t gone anywhere. Haven’t heard from anyone.”
I lowered my voice. “I may have run into a problem.”
“Great. What now?” Conall’s voice sharpened, amusement turning to attention.
“A vampire. Hunting. In Savannah.”
He laughed, and I could almost hear his grin. “And that’s a problem because?”
“I was lured there with a text,” I said, glancing at the dark tree line. “They left a body with obvious puncture wounds.”
Conall’s tone shifted. “Shit. Who would even have the number?”
I rubbed the back of my neck as I gazed at nothing on the ground. “I don’t know. Do we know who’s running Savannah these days?”
Silence hung in the air before Conall replied. “I don’t. Mother was the one who kept track of that.”
I nodded, more to myself than to him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I try to stay out of vampire politics, but sometimes they come knocking whether or not you’re ready.” I had once known the politics of our kind as well as my parents until that damn arrow punctured my brother’s chest. From then forward, Aiden reveled in the political game as I tried to keep his madness in check.
“Strange timing, don’t you think? You show up, and then a body turns up?” Conall’s tone was thoughtful now.
“I agree. I’ll see what I can find, but I’m sticking close to Oak Leaf Hallow for now.”
Conall’s voice brightened. “Are you sticking close to the plantation or its owner?”
I could hear the smirk in his voice and shook my head. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I hung up, cutting off his laughter, and headed back toward the house.
I walked down the wooded path, my thoughts consumed with Aurora. Why was my heart so consumed with her? In nine hundred years, I had never considered taking a mate, never staying with a woman for over a year or two in case they discovered my secret, yet here I was completely exposed to her and wanting more.
My breath caught as I reached the edge of the trees. Silhouetted against the light, Aurora leaned on the gallery rail. She wore a black tank dress, the skirt falling loosely to her knees, her feet bare. She wore only two necklaces now, her pendulum and the silver lynx, which fell between her breasts. A slight breeze caught her hair, the flutter of it allowing her scent of roses and oranges to mix with the musk of our sex and waft over me. I leaned against a tree, taking in the visage, a small smile on my face, my heart fluttering. She gripped the railing, a heavy sigh escaping her slightly parted lips. Why was she perplexed? There would only be one way to find out.
As I walked through the back door, Lyra sat on one of the antique settees, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked like she had been waiting for me, her posture tense, eyes narrowed.
“Lyra,” I greeted, forcing a smile as I glanced her way. “Always a pleasure.”
Her lips curled into something resembling a sneer. “Don’t say that. We both know you’re lying.”
My jaw clenched as I sighed, taking a step closer. “Does Aurora know you’re home?”
She cocked her head, a smirk dancing on her lips. “Does she know? Yes. Does she care? Well, that’s the real question, isn’t it?”
I bristled, my posture stiffening. “Of course she cares. She wants what is best for everyone, including the coven.”
Lyra’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement. “Does she? Or is that just what you’re telling yourself?”
I glanced toward the stairs, wondering if Rory could sense me in the house. “I’m not here to argue with you, Lyra.”
She stood, moving toward me, each slow step reverberating around the room. “Then what are you here for, Mac? Certainly not to help. If you were, Rory wouldn’t be learning details about your kind from an anthropologist, would she?”
My chest constricted as the air escaped my lungs, but I kept my voice steady, tilting my chin and crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m here because Rory needs me.”
Lyra let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Aurora needs you?” She stepped even closer, eyes locked on mine. “Yet, I have the grimoire.”
My patience was wearing thin. I took half a step back, opening my stance and glancing around while twirling my wrist to indicate her ongoing charade. “To what end is this game, Lyra?”
Her eyes glinted with a dangerous edge. “Hit a nerve, did I?”
Before I could respond, a woman entered the hallway from the parlor. The soft fabric of her dress swished as she moved with the quiet elegance of someone accustomed to power. Her dark hair was gathered at the crown of her head, a few strands escaping to soften the sharp angles of her face. The air around her seemed to still. She was a blend of both Aurora and Lyra—calm, composed, but with a hint of steel in the way she carried herself. Her eyes, a deep, knowing blue, flicked between us, assessing the tension. When she finally spoke, her voice was low—cool and clear. “Enough of this.” She wasn’t here to take sides. She was here to restore order.
I nodded toward her. “You must be Amara.”
“I am,” she said, returning the gesture, her dark hair swaying slightly as she moved.
“Mac, is that you?” Aurora’s voice echoed down the staircase, a softness that loosened the muscles of my jaw.
“Yes, I’m here,” I called back, fighting to keep my expression neutral. The air felt easier to breathe.
Aurora appeared at the top of the stairs, a serene vision. Her eyes flicked from Lyra to Amara, then back to me. The faintest curve touched her lips—not quite a smile, but enough to suggest she was already in control of what would follow.
“Amara, you’re home,” she said, though her voice was tight—cautious. Rory’s shoulders pulled back as she stood taller, her approach down the steps calm and precise, an elegant authority swirling about her, more pronounced than I had ever seen it before.
“Yes, child,” Amara replied, stepping closer. “I haven’t had the chance to come up and see you yet. I apologize for that.”
Aurora’s eyes narrowed, her arms crossing over her chest. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t be surprised to see the two of you together.” Her gaze fell on Lyra.
Lyra snorted softly, a smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, Rory. You always love to make everything dramatic.”
Amara shot Lyra a warning glance before turning back to Aurora. “Aurora, someday you’ll understand why I had to bring the grimoire home.”
“Not anytime soon, and certainly not like that ,” Aurora replied, her voice dripping with frustration, her hand reaching to the lynx pendant. It was then I understood. This was no longer just Rory. This was Aurora, the High Priestess Heir, confronting her superior in the coven. With each silent moment, an air of authority gathered around her, stiffening her composure and adding to her beauty.
I stepped forward, my eyes glued to Amara, searching for any trace of dishonesty. “What is it about the grimoire that you needed? And why couldn’t Aurora be there when you found it?” Rory joined me at my side, taking my hand.
Amara met my eyes, her expression softening. “I needed the spell to find the Cure. I intended to modify it to show us the path to the Cure and the vampire that threatens us all.”
Lyra’s face twisted with anger. “Mother, why are you telling him this?”
Amara’s gaze never left me, her eyes narrowing. “Because, in the end, he’s the one who’s going to help us.”
Rory’s hand tightened on mine, the pressure reminding me she was next to me, her position unwavering as she spoke. “Why do you think Mac is going to help you?”
“Because of love.” Amara turned her stony gaze on her niece. “You will help me because you are the High Priestess Heir. And Mac”—she glanced at me—“Mac will help because he loves you.”
Rory’s breath caught, and her hand tensed around mine. The weight of Amara’s words hung in the air, unspoken between us. I could feel Aurora’s pulse in her grip, rapid and uncertain, but she said nothing. Neither did I. There was so much we hadn’t said, so much we hadn’t discussed about what was growing between us.
Rory finally found her voice, though she fought the slight tremble in it. “Why do you need Mac’s help?”
Amara hesitated, her eyes drifting from Rory to me as if gauging how much to reveal. “The spell requires something I don’t fully understand. It’s… complicated.”
“And what is it that the spell needs?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The essence of an entity linked to the vampire,” Amara admitted, her voice low, as though speaking the words aloud gave them power. “But something is strange… like he isn’t fully vampire. Whatever it is, it’s blocking my magic, so I cannot figure out the essence required or where to get it. The spell to find the Cure will likely require the same essence.”
I knit my brows together. I could sense where this was headed. A slight smirk crept to my lips as my hand relaxed in Rory’s. Our dhampir nature was thwarting the High Priestess Regent, which meant she had more to learn before she would be successful.
Before I could respond, Aurora let out a sharp scoff, her eyes filled with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “Let me guess—you want Mac to convince Conall to give you some of his essence, even though you have no idea what it is. And you want us to help you find the Cure that might kill him and his brothers before we even deal with restoring the balance?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm and resentment.
Amara shrugged, calm as ever, her eyes fixed on mine. “If you told us what you know about the evils of the Clan O’Cillian, the monsters they truly are, we wouldn’t need to go through this.”
I shook my head, a half smile tugging at my lips. “Your only need is to find the Cure.” I squeezed Rory’s hand, my trust in her absolute, far beyond my trust in her family.
“And why is that?” Amara asked, her gaze sharp.
Aurora steeled her jaw as she set her gaze on her aunt. “It is something we learned just before we left Waterford. Our coven has two mandates. The second is to maintain the balance between the vampires and the hunters.”
I tightened my grip on Rory’s hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine.
She continued. “The first is to protect the Cure. We’ve lost sight of them both.”
Lyra’s eyes narrowed, her tone turning icy. “Why do we need him?” she muttered, gesturing toward me and shooting a glance at Amara as if daring her to disagree.
I glanced at Rory. Her gaze caught mine, full of compassion and fury, before she turned to her cousin. Her temper finally snapped, her voice sharp. “You know, Lyra, I don’t know what your problem is or why you’re doing this.”
“You shouldn’t even be with him. He’ll throw off the balance even worse than it already is, making the vampires even stronger,” she spat, turning her full attention toward her cousin. “You’re supposed to be the future leader of our coven.”
Rory’s hand slipped from mine as she took a step toward Lyra, her voice low. “And I will be.”
Lyra didn’t flinch, her arms still crossed as she stared down her cousin with a cold, calculating gaze. “Not if you keep making these ridiculous decisions. And certainly not if you keep letting him”—her eyes flicked to me with disdain—“into our secrets. Into our circle.” Lyra took a step forward, closing the gap between them, looking down on her cousin.
Rory’s eyes blazed with anger, and she reached for my hand again, stepping away from Lyra and to my side. The gesture wasn’t just for comfort—it was a statement.
Amara stood, her gaze focused, a mixture of ire and admiration. Her eyes focused on me as she tilted her head and took a step back. “There is more to learn and a path to find.”
Rory clenched her jaw. “Let’s go, Mac,” she said, her voice tight with controlled fury. “I’m done with this conversation.”
She turned on her heel, tugging me along with her as she ascended the stairs, leaving Lyra and Amara behind. I could feel Lyra’s eyes burning into my back, but I didn’t glance around. My focus was on Rory, and as I followed her up the stairs, I couldn’t help but notice her tight, raised shoulders and the way her breath came just a little too fast, but her hand in mine was soft and secure.