Page 21 of Cocktails & Cauldrons

Eoin complied, tension and concern etched in every line of his face.

“What do you think it is, Al?” Piper asked, wringing her hands.

“I’m not sure yet.” He squatted next to Brenna. “Ms. Sullivan, if you’ll allow me, I’m going to touch your face. I can feel theintensity of your pain, and I’d like to help take it away if I can, or at least ease the worst of it. Please tell me if I make it worse.”

She nodded, responding more to the kindness in his eyes than to anything he’d said. When he skimmed her burning skin with his fingertips, she sucked in a sharp breath and held it, desperately trying not to cry. Although he didn’t cause her more pain, the stinging had yet to recede.

The color of Alastair’s eyes shifted from a bright sapphire blue to a murky shade of blue-gray, and Brenna worried her mind was playing tricks on her.

“Not acid,” he murmured. “Or rather, not as you would know it in mortal terms. This seems like a personal attack, but from whom would be the question.” His gaze dropped to the suitcase, but he didn’t comment further about that particularquestion. “Goddess, hear my plea. Help me ease this child’s suffering in this, her time of need,” he murmured.

Once again, he ran his fingers over her fiery flesh, but this time, a purple light glowed from the tips, and the cooling sensation felt the way menthol did in the mouth; almost icy when air hit it. Within seconds, her skin was restored to normal, with no more searing pain.

“Thank you, Mr. Thorne,” she managed to choke out her gratitude. “Thank you so much.”

“It was nothing, my dear.” With a gracefulness Brenna wished for, he rose and held out a hand to help her up. She placed hers in his and felt a zing similar to the one she’d felt at the gallery. A small chirp of surprise escaped her, and she jerked her hand back from the disturbing contact the instant she was standing.

“Why does that keep happening when I touch your hand?” she laughingly asked. “We create some serious static electricity between the two of us.”

His dark-blond brows twitched, met, and rose, all within mere seconds, and his look of surprise was priceless because Brenna suspected not much threw him. “You think this is static, Ms. Sullivan?”

She sent a searching side glance toward Piper, who smiled at her with a type of bemusement. Finally, Brenna visually sought answers from Eoin. He still appeared troubled as he leaned against the wall, one foot propped back behind him on the smooth surface and his arms crossed. Her attention went by way of his drool-worthy forearms, and she forgot what the original question was. By the time she faced Alastair again, a lengthy silence had passed.

Mortified by her inability to concentrate when Eoin was around, she cleared her throat, desperate to remember the topic.

Alastair took pity on her. “It’s not static you are experiencing, my dear, but powerful magic connecting to a matching source.”

“I don’t understand,” she admitted. “I’ve never had any real magic in the truest sense of the word.”

“There you’re wrong. If you’ll allow me, I’ll show you.”

Tentatively, she placed her hand in his, and when he turned her palm faceup, she shot a nervous look toward Eoin. He hadn’t moved or spoken, as if afraid he’d send her into hysteria again.

Red light arched between Alastair’s palm and hers, and a tickling sensation danced along her nerve endings, causing the hair on her body to rise up. Within seconds, a black smoke rose from her skin, slithering along the light, circling, as if alive. The instant Alastair registered the swirling darkness, he used his free hand to jerk theirs apart, his expression a thundercloud.

The kitchen’s temperature turned freezing, and Brenna began shaking.

“What are you trying to pull, Ms. Sullivan?” His tone was colder than the room, if possible.

“N-nothing. I’m n-not pulling anything at all!” In a panic, she looked from one person to the other, seeking support from Eoin, though he didn’t know her well enough to back her up. And though he straightened from the wall, he didn’t approach.

Her teeth began to chatter. “I swear I d-didn’t know m-magic like yours existed until n-now, M-Mr. Thorne.”

Piper looked at Brenna like she’d grown a second head. “What the hell just happened, Al? Was that what I think it was?”

“Yes,” he bit out.

“What? W-what w-was it?” If she had a mirror, Brenna was sure to find her lips blue from the frigid air.

“You, my dear Ms. Sullivan, are either a Siren or a Succubus.And you tried to steal my power.”

“Fecking hell!”

Eoin stalked from the room, leaving Brenna to face the wrath of a livid Alastair Thorne.

CHAPTER 9

Odessa Sullivan felt the instant her niece’s magic tried to break free of her hold. It struggled and strained like the living beast it was. She’d done Brenna a favor when she absorbed her power for her own, although the ungrateful child wouldn’t see it that way. If Brenna ever found out she was syphoning off the girl’s natural born abilities, Odessa might have a serious problem on her hands.

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