Page 2 of Charmed

She shifted from kneeling to sitting and smoothed her skirts. "While my precious Hope grew in my womb, I planned, considered every outcome, and concluded that only a curse of such magnitude would alter the future. Our households had to come together and willingly want a resolution, and that couldn't be done as things stood. Too much hate, too much indifference. Our children's children would hopefully be wiser and tolerant."

A sigh, and she met Mara's gaze once more. "In the mean time, a hiatus had to be erected for the feud. What stronger motive to cooperate than taking away any chance for love? After all, that's what would be stolen from me when I died. Love for my daughter, for Finn, even you, dear sister." She nodded. "I took away happiness in the truest sense. And it worked. They want the curse broken as much as we do, and have left our heirs alone until the cycle ends."

Resting her cheek on the side of the tub, she offered a wan smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Tasks for the fated six will ensure the two sides work as one. Completing them will set us all free. I feared the importance would get muddled through the years, and I needed someone I trusted to guide them toward their destiny."

Tears brimmed and pooled on her lashes as she lifted her head. "I'm very sorry for the enormous weight I put on your shoulders, but it could only be you. Only you," she whispered.

Mara's chest constricted, and she clasped her sister's hand. Two centuries had built up a lot of anger and resentment, and in two measly minutes, the bitterness crumbled to dust. She never doubted for a moment Celeste spoke the truth. Her gifts superseded Mara's, and now that she had the answers she'd always sought, how could she blame Celeste?

"Forgive me?" Celeste placed her other hand over their joined ones. "I couldn't bear it if you hated me."

"Never. I could never hate you." Mara sniffed and let her own tears fall. A cleansing to shed the past. "Of course, I forgive you."

A nod, and Celeste straightened, pulling her hands free. "No more of this, either. Don't harm yourself anymore, love."

"I promise." It meant Mara wouldn't get to see her sister again until her true death, but in some distant day that would come about and they'd be happy.

"There's one more thing, something I didn't foresee." Celeste's throat worked a delicate swallow. "I am trapped here in this place, the between, until the fated are born. Stuck in this plane of watching and waiting. I believe Finn might be, as well. Sometimes, I sense him around me. Close, but not reachable. If the tasks aren't completed, we won't ever move on. I suspect my spell on you won't lift, either." Regret shone in her eyes. "You've sacrificed so much. I had no idea the consequences would be this great."

The very thought of there being no end struck terror in Mara's heart. An eternity of immortality? No relief, no escape? There was nothing worse. "Then I'll make sure the fated succeed, will do everything in my power to release us all from this hell."

"I know you will, love. Be brave and strong like you always have been. Someday soon, they will come and this will be over. I believe that with all my heart." Celeste glanced down and the tension in her forehead eased. "Your wounds are sealing. It's time to awaken." She leaned over the tub and pressed a kiss to Mara's brow. "I'll miss you terribly, but I'm watching over you. Love you, sister mine. Wake up now."

Mara's eyes flew open and she sat up. Red-tinged water splashed over the side of the tub as she glanced around. The candles had burned down to the quick and the cuts on her arms were healed. Moonlight filled the room from the window, stars winking in an afterthought.

She gave herself a moment in the cooling bath, absorbing what her sister had said, then pulled the drain with a purposeful yank. After all, she had a destiny to save.

Chapter One

It was entirely possible Riley Meath was going to end his day wearing an orange jumpsuit and sharing a cell with a guy named Brutus. He'd like to blame Fiona (Bane-Of-His-Existence) Galloway for the epic clusterfuck to which had been called Tuesday, but he'd made his own choices. He was the one who'd put himself in this mess.

Well, technically, Celeste Galloway had started those dominoes clacking by creating the fateful curse in the first place. But since she'd been dead for, say, three-hundred years, he couldn't exactly go pounding on her door. However, it had been his ancestor, Minister Gregory Meath, who'd dragged Celeste from her home and burned her at the stake, forcing her hand. Plenty of blame to go around.

Regardless, Riley could've erred on the side of sanity a few months ago and said no when the three Galloway sisters had asked for a meeting with him and his two brothers in the forest separating their estates. In the middle of the night. Because that wasn't creepy. He could've patted the girls on their gorgeous heads after they'd explained the mythical curse wasn't, in fact, mythical, and that, yes, they were witches. Actual witches. With magick and everything. And he really could've said hell no when they'd requested his and said brothers help in breaking the three-centuries-in-the-making curse, all for the sake of destiny.

Had he done any of those things? Nope.

Thus, here he was, driving his Land Rover down a packed cobblestone street, during the peak of tourism season on the island, on his way to the sisters' shop. Just so he could kill Fiona. He tightened his grip on the wheel until his knuckles turned white and popped. Late afternoon sunlight smacked him in the face, amping his irritation.

Damn her, though. She'd lied to him. Not once, but twice.

Worse, she'd made him worry about her. He'd spent the day secure in the fact she was safely tucked inside Bedknobs & Broomsticks with the shop's manager. He'd had to hear from her aunt Mara that wasn't the case.

One call. That's all it would've taken. Just one call, and he would have high-tailed it over and worked out of Fiona's store instead of his office.

But nooo. She'd tip-toed around via text, implying she wasn't by herself. Alone. Where anything could happen. And by anything, he meant anything.

Not two months ago, her younger sister, Kaida, had almost been killed by his Uncle Greg when he'd stabbed her with the infamous witching blade—a spelled dagger that stole a witch's powers if she was slain by it. They'd learned the blade had been in his family's possession since its creation by Minister Meath himself. Oh, and that his relatives were hunters. Not the Bambi variety, but witch hunters. Kaida would've died if Fiona hadn't used her gift of healing. It also turned out his uncle was actually the Minister in glamour spell clothing, rendering the jerkwad three-hundred years old.

So, yeah. Anything.

Riley sighed. Kaida and his brother Brady had been up first in their "fated six" medley and had just finished completing the task set forth for them. Step One in breaking the curse. The other four, him included, were waiting their turns. And waiting. In the mean time, they'd gotten together every night after work for training purposes, pow-wow sessions, and had instilled the buddy system. The last of which Fiona was blatantly ignoring.

Riley supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Ever since this whole destiny thing had kicked in, she'd been a perpetual thorn in his side. She was so beautiful she put the moon to shame, so clever she could convince the earth to stop rotating, and so intimidating that he continually found himself swallowing his tongue.

Interactions with her typically went down as such...

Her: Dominate. Distract. Destruct.

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