Chapter 14

Brady followed his brothers to the door, having had his fill of magick and witch talk for the evening. Or a lifetime. But at the threshold, he couldn't make himself leave. That invisible magnet kept pulling him back to Kaida, and some inner fear he hadn't known existed made him worry he might not see her again.

Turning, he flicked a glance at Ceara and Fiona, still perched on the sofa, then settled on Kaida. "Would you mind walking me out?"

She offered a wan smile and rose. Grabbing a quilt off the back of her chair, she wrapped it around her shoulders and preceded him onto the porch.

The humidity from earlier had weaned and a brisk spring breeze scented with brine slapped his face. A dense fog covered the dark grounds, as ominous as his mood. The roar of the ocean hitting the cliffs on the other side of the Galloways' house blended with the crackle of leaves. Otherwise, all was quiet.

He shut the door behind them and faced his brothers. "Give us a minute."

When they headed down the steps and halted in the driveway out of earshot, he stared at Kaida. Just stared like he had nothing better to do than watch her. Damn, she was beautiful. The real life version of her was breathtaking in a stop-traffic kind of way. Her hair alone invoked fantasies he could spend a decade exploring. All that caramel in thick waves.

"I know I've said this upwards of eighty times, but I can't believe you're here."

Her smile widened, and he bit back a groan at how badly he wanted to kiss those plush lips. "My sentiments, too." Cerulean eyes swept over him, then reclaimed his. "You must be in system overload. How are you dealing?"

His dream woman wasn't an illusion, she and her sisters were witches, he'd witnessed powers he never imagined were possible, and he'd just been told he was part of some threefold destiny centuries in the making. How was he dealing? Not at all.

Another breeze blew between them, taking a few of her strands along for the ride. The scent of rain from her shampoo blended with rosemary from her skin, and memory slammed into his head. Her, him, together in the meadow by the cliffs. The sound of her laugh and the tone of her sultry voice. Countless times he'd been with her, but none of it held a candle to this moment.

Nothing else mattered.

"Never mind me. Are you all right? You look wiped." He thought he'd never get his heart beating again after she'd collapsed in the clearing. Though she seemed no worse for wear, her lids were heavy and her mannerisms sluggish.

"Just tired. I'll sleep it off."

He nodded, figuring she was having an adrenaline crash or something. "Will it sound pervy if I admit how badly I want to hug you?"

There. Mercy, her laugh.

"No. Considering our history, I'd say it was a normal response." She chewed her lip. "Might be a good idea to hold off, though. We still don't know exactly what happened the first time we touched."

Light blasting. Unimaginable heat. Their new tattoos.

"Yeah, I'm with you there." He almost didn't care what consequences Celeste Galloway or the universe thrust at him. Kaida's pull was that fierce. "What are you up to tomorrow? Can we get together for lunch or a drink?" He needed to see her again. Soon. Have a conversation without their siblings and figure out what the hell was going on.

"I'd like that." The sleepy smile lit her eyes. "Fiona and Ceara planned to show me around town and take me to their shop. I can sneak away for a bit."

Her sisters' store, Bedknobs & Broomsticks, was on the island's main strip, smack in the center of the tourist hotspots. A public scene would probably be wise. "There's a cafe right next door. Noon?"

"Definitely." She paused, tilting her head. "Goodnight, Brady. Sweet dreams."

He laughed. "Sure. You, too." He forced himself to descend the stairs, then watched her slip inside the house. While he stared at the door, he fought the urge to break it down in order to get back to her.

"Ready?"

A sigh, and he acknowledged Riley with a nod.

They strode through the woods and back home in silence. Once there, Brady stood on the front lawn and eyed the white clapboard fortress with black shutters, caught up in the past while it collided with the present. Such things always fascinated him. How places and people changed, and yet progress was rarely made where it counted.

Ten years after Six Fates Island was inhabited, his ancestors had built Meath Mansion. Back then, it was Federal-style and roughly three-thousand square feet. Traces of the original design like the elliptical fanlight window above the front door and vertical sidelights flanking the entrance were still present, plus the tripartite Venetian glass on the second story above the doorframe. But through time and as wealth accumulated, additions had been erected. It now had more touches of Greek-revival, boasting temple-like porticos on either side of the original structure, supported by grandiose columns.

In other words, a twelve-thousand square-foot mish-mash of privilege.

Brady and his brothers had issued a lot of updates to the interior when they'd come of age, trying to weed out the cold functionality of the decor and making it theirs. Personal touches and warm colors. Feng shui-ing to erase their childhood birthed in lonely times and desperate boredom. But standing here staring at the place, he realized how it could still leave him feeling utterly...frigid.

"Brady?" Riley paused by the front steps, concern wrinkling his brow. "You coming, man?"

Tristan faced him as well, a mirror expression to Riley's.

When Brady didn't respond, or couldn't, they crossed the distance and stood in front of him.

Frowning, he glanced to the east side of the property at the eight-car garage and glassed-in swimming pool connected to the house, then to the west, where an in-ground seating area, stone fire pit, and gazebo sat waiting for guests. Except they never had company. Privacy, a Meath DNA trait.

"Do you ever wonder what they were thinking?" He looked at his brothers. "Our family, I mean. They built this, all of this," he swept his hand to indicate the estate, "and what do we have to show for it?" There was no laughter inside. No holiday gatherings or pitter-patter of little feet or...life. "What purpose does this serve?"

Riley turned and took in the property as if looking at it for the first time. "Legacy, I suppose."

"Some legacy," Tristan muttered.

And that was exactly Brady's point. "The Galloways extended an olive branch tonight." He kept circling back to the evening's events, tried to fit a logical peg into a mystical hole. "Call it fate or whatever, but what legacy are we leaving behind, or adding to, if history is just going to repeat itself?"

If he understood anything, could rally to a cause, history was it. Knowing and studying the past shed light on the errors of ways, on both the atrocities and humanistic end of behavior. It was supposed to teach future generations what to or not to do if given the choice. Wasn't it up to him and his brothers to learn from their ancestors' mistakes?

"What are you saying?" Riley crossed his arms and widened his stance. "Do you believe the sisters? That we're cursed and part of some twisted destiny?"

"Don't you?" Brady raised his brows for emphasis. "After what you saw with your own eyes and taking into account the Galloway/Meath woes, don't you believe them?"

Riley's gaze drifted over Brady's shoulder, lost in thought. "Strike me now, but yes. I actually do."

They looked at Tristan, who closed his eyes and dropped his chin. Hands on his hips, he stood unmoving.

Of the three of them, Tristan had the biggest heart. He hid it from most of the world, but he felt things deeply. Riley was a go-with-the-flow person, preferring humor over conflict, and Brady dug his toes in logic. History, in all areas of the globe, was steeped in tragedy and ugliness. He took that nature for what it typically wasignorant or scared people using religion, insecurities, and power to justify means. Selfishness to the core.

Yet, Tristan amped that to another level and inserted empathy, viewing actions from every side. He hated that about himself, had mentioned it to Brady on quite a few occasions. Emotions were considered a weakness by their uncle. A notion the bastard had tried to drill into them as children, Tristan receiving the worst brunt.

Which was why he despised any talk of the Galloways. Knowing what their ancestors had done to Celeste sickened him, thus he copped an attitude and shut down whenever the topic arose, hiding his sympathy. Brady had seen it endless times.

He couldn't tell which way the scales would tip for Tristan. On one hand, agreeing to help would offer a way to make amends for an enactment by his family he viewed as shameful. But it also meant opening himself up to three women he didn't trust, emotions he'd boxed, and injecting himself into a world he wanted no part in.

"Tristan?"

At Riley's not-so-gentle cue, Tristan's lids lifted and he glared at the sky, shaking his head. "Damn it." He jabbed his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, I believe them." He looked at Brady and sighed. "How could I not after your dreams? If nothing else, I believe you."

A hefty silence fell between them, and Brady looked at the manicured lawn like it might provide the solution to world hunger. Or break a curse.

"So, that just happened." Riley lifted his hand, expression dialed to a sarcastic why-the-hell-not. "We just agreed to help three witches in completing unknown, possibly perilous tasks for the fate of our families' happiness. Right on." He spun on his heel and marched toward the house. "I need a stiff drink and dry clothes. I'll meet you in the library, where we can discuss unicorns and leprechauns."

"Well, when he puts it that way..." Brady scowled.

A grated laugh from Tristan, and they went inside, too.