Eternity: Immortal Witches Book 1 (The Immortal Witches) (33 page)

He shook his head. “You won’t be hurting my father, Raven, and he won’t be hurting you. I’m going to protect you from each other. And you, from yourself.”

I nodded. “And if it comes to a choice between him and me?”

“Sweet Jesus, Raven, he’s my father.”

It was as if he drove a blade straight into my heart. But I said nothing. Just walked to my boat.

* * *

Duncan watched her go, a tear rolling down his cheek. Why did it have to be this way? What kind of madness was inside her that she had it in for his father the way she did? God, would she really try something? And why? Why did he fall in love for the first time in his life with a woman who had so many problems?

And why was this insistent feeling in his gut telling him she was perfectly sane, and that everything she’d said made some kind of sense?

He wanted to make it all go away. To love her so much she’d forget about all of this. To hold her and cherish her and exorcize whatever demons must be tormenting her.

But he also wanted to continue building a relationship with his father. A real one, a genuine one. The one he’d been hoping for and dreaming about since he was old enough to dream.

Hell. He couldn’t risk that Raven might actually try to harm Nathanial. She wouldn’t, though. She wouldn’t really.

As for the rest of it–his dreams, his memories, the fact that she’d called him Duncan Wallace–a name he’d never heard before, but that sounded perfectly familiar when she said it–the dagger, the birthmarks–all of those things, he refused to think about. For now.

Or thought he did.

But they were there, niggling at his mind, eating away at his disbelief. Making him wonder.

Two hours later he arrived at the courthouse in town, determined to be his father’s shadow until he knew for sure just how much of a threat Raven was to him. Until he knew for certain she was imagining things when she said his father wanted her dead.

When he got there, Nathanial did something so out of character that Duncan knew he was sincerely changing.

He handed Duncan the small black iron pot that Raven had tried to steal the other day.

“What’s this about?” Duncan asked, confused.

“I want you to give it to that girl. Raven...what's her-name. You know who I mean.”

Duncan could only stare at his father in surprise.

Nathanial shrugged. “Hell, son, it seems to mean something to her. I suppose in her poor twisted-up mind she must think all that she was saying was true. I have no reason to fight with her. So I thought, as a gesture of friendship, I’d let her have the damned pot.” He shrugged. “Call it a peace offering.”

Taking the pot from his father’s hands, Duncan shook his head slowly. That’s really kind of you,” he said. “It must be worth–”

“It’s only money.” Nathanial waved a dismissive hand, but his eyes seemed to be watching Duncan’s face very closely. As if he were doing this for a specific reason, and that reason had to do with Duncan’s reaction. As if it was a part of this whole act he’d been perpetuating. This whole “I-want-to-be-your-father” game the old man had been playing for reasons Duncan didn’t understand.

And now I’m just letting Raven’s madness poison my mind against my own father. Just what I don’t want to do.

But he’d been suspicious of his father’s motives long before Raven had come onto the scene. Hell, he’d been suspicious of his father for most of his life, particularly whenever the coldest man he’d ever known started making fatherly overtures toward him.

He just wasn’t sure anymore how much of that feeling was his own gut instinct, and how much was the power of suggestion Raven St. James wielded.

“Frankly, son,” Nathanial went on, “part of me wanted to call the police, swear out a complaint, something like that. But I realize she...well, she means something to you.”

“You do?”

“She does, doesn’t she?”

Blinking, wondering just when his father had become sensitive enough to pick up on something like that, he nodded. “Yeah. She does.”

“That’s why I decided it would be better to make peace than to wage war. For your sake.”

“For my sake.”

“I don’t want her coming between us,” he said, very softly.

And a tear shimmered in Nathanial’s pale, cold eye. A real tear? Duncan didn’t know. He’d never seen his father shed one before.

Dammit, between the two of them, they were ripping his heart to shreds.

Swallowing hard, feeling a softness he hated toward the hard man who was his father, he reminded himself not to believe too strongly, not to hope for too much. And he made a decision. One way or another, he was going to get a look at Nathanial’s left hip. Tonight.

Chapter 18

“Why don’t I pay the girl a visit tonight?”

Duncan paused in his constant, sickening perusal of the
place
–
his
father had been busy today–and felt a new chill lift the hairs on the back of his neck. “What girl?” But he didn’t really need to ask.

“You know,” Nathanial said. He stood in the center of the room, hands on his hips, looking around just as Duncan had been doing since he’d arrived here. Duncan had refused to take part in things, until his father had hurt his back trying to set up shelves, and Duncan had somehow ended up jumping in to help. He’d been here ever since. Shelves stood everywhere, all of them filled with “artifacts.” It made Duncan sick to look at them.

“The self-proclaimed witch,” Nathanial went on. “I can deliver the cauldron along with an invitation to our grand opening. Maybe smooth those pretty ruffled feathers of hers, hmm?”

Straightening, Duncan sent his father a look of disbelief. He didn’t like being here. Didn’t like himself right now, for giving the old man the benefit of the doubt. Wasn’t he surrounded by proof of the man’s true nature? Wasn’t all of this just a little too cruel to be the result of ignorance or even narrow-minded bigotry?

“I don’t think visiting Raven St. James is a very good idea, Father.”

“And why not? It’s the least I can do! After all, you were making inroads with her before I stepped on her delicate toes with this museum. I’m well aware I messed things up for you.”

“No, you didn’t.” He lowered his head, shook it, couldn’t quite bring himself to tell his father that he thought Raven might be a bit...confused. Maybe because when he said it aloud he realized that he didn’t believe it. Not really.

“Still, I fear I got off on the wrong foot with the woman. And she is a local. I’d rather not have the locals turning against me before I even begin. Maybe I can make her see reason.”

“She doesn’t seem to know what reason is,” Duncan muttered. Then again, neither did he just now. “Besides, she’d never agree to see you.”

“I’ve thought of that. Still, I want to gift her with the pot, personally, an overture of friendship. You’ll just have to arrange it for her.”

Duncan turned from surveying yet another shelf and faced his father slowly. “What do you mean?”

“Set us up. She’ll never agree to meet with me, but she would if she thought she were meeting you. So ask her to meet you somewhere. Someplace...private. I wouldn’t want to embarrass her, after all. And then I’ll meet her instead, gift her with the cauldron, and become her friend.”

His father’s eyes were as still as glass. His lips smiled, but the rest of his face seemed frozen, expectant.

“I don’t think I can do that,” Duncan said.

“Nonsense! Of course you can. It’s the only way it will work. I can see you care for the girl, son. This way she and I will mend our fences and she’ll see I’m not the monster she thought. That ought to smooth things over substantially between the two of you. Don’t you think?”

Swallowing the dryness in his throat, Duncan nodded. “It might.” No way. No way in hell. And what was he reacting to? His own gut instinct? The cold look in his father’s calculating eyes? Or maybe Raven’s crazy stories were making him feel this icy foreboding in the pit of his stomach.

“Well then?”

Duncan shook his head firmly. “It would be too cruel, Father. She thinks you’re some kind of murderer. Can you imagine how frightened she’d be to show up somewhere and find you there, waiting?”

“Yes,” Nathanial said. “I can.”

Duncan blinked. He’d never seen his father’s eyes look so dead. What the hell was happening here? Wasn’t it obvious? Nathanial was trying to manipulate him into setting Raven up. The question was why?

He wants me dead, Duncan.

No. Not that, it wasn’t that. Nathanial might be a cold, mean SOB, but he was no killer.

“What do you say we grab a late dinner, hmm?” Anything to change the subject. He didn’t like discussing Raven with his rather. It seemed like some kind of blasphemy.

He wanted her. Maybe even needed her. Probably loved her. My God, he probably loved her.

But he needed her sane, dammit, with all these delusions blown out of her mind.

Unless of course, they weren’t delusions.

And now who’s crazy?

“Dinner?” Nathanial said. He glanced at his watch. “Damn, boy, dinner was hours ago! You should have said something. I got so caught up in this project I lost track of the time.”

“I’ve been doing that lately myself.”

“It’s late to go out.” His father frowned in thought.

“We could order in,” Duncan suggested. “If you’ll tolerate pizza, I’ll tolerate wine.”

“Ahh, we’ll dine in that quaint style, early redneck. Perhaps even turn on the television set and stare mindlessly at it.”

Was he being hatefully sarcastic, or joking around? Tough to tell. He’d never heard his father joke around before. “ I’m sure we can find something on TV. It’s Monday night. Should be a football game on.”

“Ahh, yes, the sport of champions. Well, I’m willing if you are.”

“Great. What do you like on your pizza?” Duncan picked up the phone, punched buttons.

His father shrugged, not even looking at Duncan. “I can’t imagine it much matters.” Then he sighed. “Perhaps we could invite your friend here. Not that blonde she had with her. I...I didn’t like that one. Still, your Raven could join us in this modern-day ritual. It would give me a chance to get to know her.”

Duncan’s hand tightened on the phone and he knew without a doubt he didn’t want his father anywhere near Raven. “You’re like a dog with a bone about this, aren’t you? She wouldn’t accept. Just give her some time and space, and maybe she’ll come around.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then she doesn’t.” Duncan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, but I’m afraid it does, Duncan, my boy.”

Before he could ask what his father meant by that, the pizza guy answered the phone to take Duncan’s order. And by the time he hung up, his father was off on another subject. As if he’d forgotten all about Raven.

But Duncan had a feeling that might be an illusion.

* * *

I paced outside the courthouse, a safe distance away, but close enough to watch the door. Duncan was inside, and he hadn’t left yet. There had been a delivery boy, a pizza box, and the mouth-watering aromas had reached me. Spices, tomato sauce, cheeses, and fresh crust. My stomach rumbled. I’d been too tense and worried and, yes, heartbroken, to eat today, and now I regretted it. But I didn’t regret being out here. I glimpsed Duncan in the doorway, just briefly. Dark and beautiful, forbidden to me just as he’d always been. By choice this time, rather than by vows. But just as forbidden. Just as unreachable. His dark hair played with a stray breeze as he handed the delivery boy some bills. And when the boy left, Duncan stood there a moment longer, head cocked to one side, eyes scanning the benches and the fountain and the park beyond. Scenting the air like a wolf, I thought. He knew I was there. Sensed my nearness somehow. He probably didn’t even realize it, but he did.

And yet it seemed he’d deny the connection between us with his dying breath. Why must he be so stubborn?

Sighing as he moved inside and the door closed again, I sank onto the stone bench beside the fountain, elbows on my knees, head in my hands.

“Raven!” The harsh, familiar whisper brought my head up fast. Arianna came skulking from the shadows like a Halloween spirit. “What are you doing out here?”

“You must have radar,” I told her. “It’s barely been an hour since I slipped away.”

“I don’t need radar and you know it.” She came closer but didn’t sit. Instead she stood over me, feeling taller than me for a change, I thought. Her short hair riffled like dove feathers as she looked down at me from those huge brown eyes. Her Peter Pan stance, I called it, when she stood like this. Legs shoulder-width apart, hands planted on her hips, elbows pointing to either side of her. Give her a hat and a feather, and she’d probably fly. The leggings she wore, and the green velvet short-short dress that reached to enhanced the image considerably. I almost smiled.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re up to, or sit there inspecting my wardrobe?”

I shrugged. “Peter wore less jewelry, of course,’’ I muttered. She frowned harder. “Then again, so do most of the royals.”

“Are you mocking me? After I came all the way out here worried half to death about you and–”

“Hush, Arianna. I love you, you know that.”

“Then talk to me.” Her hands lowered to her sides, and she paced. “It’s to be tonight, isn’t it? You’ll go after him tonight.”

“Yes.” I drew my dagger, ran my thumb across its edge to test its readiness. A nervous habit I’d repeated a dozen times today. “It’s time.”

“You’re not ready.”

“And I’ll not become any more ready by putting it off.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“Duncan is in danger!”

She rolled her eyes. “Duncan should have listened to you in the first place.” Then she paused, glaring at the courthouse as if trying to send it up in flames with the sheer force of her gaze. “I’m beginning to hate them both.”

“Not Duncan,” I protested. “You’re my sister. You can’t hate the man I love, Arianna.”

“I can if his foolishness gets you killed.”

I closed my eyes. I didn’t want that to happen. And I knew it was possible. I just wished she wouldn’t remind me quite so often.