Page 1 of Brave Spirit (Bound Spirit #6)
Adelmo
A fter finding a wild desert where my house once stood, I knew I missed my window for the direct approach in resurrecting my beloved Helina.
While I was in prison, the binding spell on Callie’s magic must have been removed, meaning she has come fully into her power.
I was concerned that I would have to find a way back into the witching world to gain access to her, assuming it was performed by the council.
However, the goddess smiled upon me. After a month of working my old contacts from before I was exiled, using the angle that I was simply a desperate man searching for his daughter, I was led to a small town in Oregon—Twin Cedar Pass.
The town is ruled by a coven that no longer answers to the council.
A smile twists my lips over my good fortune as I tail the disgraced former coven leader and her daughter to a small apartment complex on the outskirts of town.
Undoubtedly angry about their new lot in life, they will be the perfect tools to gather the information I need to enact my plan.
Callie has always been tenderhearted—something she inherited from her mother.
It’s a weakness I plan to exploit. If I threaten what she values most, then she’ll do anything I want.
After waiting enough time for the two to settle in, I get out of my Mercedes Benz S-Class rental and adjust the sleeves of my new, dove gray suit.
Appearance and confidence are essential in any negotiation.
Retrieving a small, black leather box from the center console, I take out the replica pin of the council’s crest I commissioned back in Phoenix.
Anyone who interacted with the council would immediately recognize it as a fake, the metal missing the millennia’s worth of interwoven magic from each council member who wore it before.
Since I doubt either of them have ever interacted with anyone of real influence—excluding my daughter and Mildred, my infuriating, evil ex-mother-in-law—I’m unconcerned that they’ll know the difference.
I pin the crest to my lapel, lock the car, and stride across the parking lot toward the apartment I watched the two ladies enter.
The building is painted a drab, muddy brown with faded, forest green trim, showing its years of neglect under the harsh rays of the afternoon sun.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen , I muse as I climb the wooden staircase that creaks with every step.
When I stop in front of apartment seventeen, I’m accosted by the sounds of a blaring television from the apartment on the left and a couple arguing in the apartment on the right.
This will be easier than I thought. No doubt they are desperate for any promise of escape from their new lives.
Seconds after I knock, the woman of the hour peeks out from behind her chain locked door, annoyance plastered on an otherwise attractive face.
I offer her a polite smile, balancing the body language of authority with the humbleness of a man about to ask for help. “Ms. Reyes?”
Her eyes skim over my expensive suit, cataloging every detail of my appearance that advertises I’m a man of means, and then she closes the door to unfasten the chain.
When she reappears, her long black hair has the tousled look of being quickly finger combed.
It does little to repair her rumpled appearance, however, since her maroon blouse and black slacks are still heavily wrinkled—signs that she is not accustomed to caring for her own clothes.
“Call me Neva,” she replies, flashing a warm, inviting smile. “And who might you be?”
Placing a flat palm against my chest near my lapel pin, I bow my head a fraction of an inch. “My apologies. I’m Councilman Santiago. Some very concerning reports have reached the witches’ council, and we need your help.”
Her fingertips brush against her chest. “My help?”
“Yes.” I make pointed looks toward her neighboring doors. “It’s best I explain the rest privately. May I come in?”
“Yes, of course.” She opens the door wider and gestures for me to enter with her hand.
Once I enter, she quickly closes the door behind me.
Shame seems to settle into her brown eyes as she gazes around her apartment.
The decor is beyond what could be described as minimalist, though the furniture they do have is of high quality.
Unfortunately, it only further highlights the shabbiness of her surroundings, indicating the loss of a better life.
Neva’s smile is tight as she waves a hand toward a cream-colored, wingback chair. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?”
“Thank you for the offer, but unfortunately, my time is limited.” This is a lie, but the implied urgency will force her to make swift, emotional decisions instead of thought-out logical ones. I gesture toward the small, matching loveseat that sits across from the chair. “Please, have a seat.”
She does as directed, her expression serious.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Neva’s daughter, Gina, standing in the shadows of the short hallway leading toward the bedrooms. Knowing that Neva would likely dismiss her daughter if she knew Gina was eavesdropping, I choose to ignore her.
My plan hinges on the daughter’s participation, since she is far more equipped to get close to Callie.
Sitting in the wingback chair, I lean forward, fold my hands, and mold my expression into one of grave importance.
“It’s come to our attention that there’s a deranged witch residing in your town.
She’s very sick, believing herself divinely chosen, when in reality, she has a rare and dangerous birth defect.
Unlike normal witches who are born with a connection to magic, she’s only capable of wielding magic harvested from other witches. ”
Her eyes narrow into angry slits as her hands fist in her lap. “The Volkov girl.”
I nod gravely, my expression giving no clue of my internal rage over Callie’s name change. It’s so like Mildred to erase me from what’s rightfully mine, like I’m dirt tainting her grandchild. It won’t matter once Helina is back. My beloved will set things straight.
Neva’s daughter stomps into the room, her face full of teenage fury. “That’s how that bitch stole my magic?”
“Gina!” her mother chastises, pointedly looking from her to me. “Watch your language. We have a very important guest.”
Offering an understanding smile, I hold up a hand in placation.
“It’s fine. Her anger is more than justified.
What was done to you both is beyond cruel and a blasphemy against the goddess herself.
Fortunately, if you assist me, I can help you get your magic back.
” My gaze takes in the room at large before settling back on the Reyes women.
“After all this is over, the council also wishes to invite you to London so you may take your rightful place among witch society—funded by us, of course. These lodgings are not fit for ladies of your stature.”
They eat up my false promises, their eyes gleaming with a mixture of hope and the sweet promise of vengeance. I’m the answer to their prayers, and without requiring any proof, they immediately agree to do anything I ask of them.
After leaving the Reyes woman to plot their first assignments, I return to my car and tug on the chain around my neck, pulling out the vibrant blue stone that sat well hidden beneath my clothes.
Stroking the engraving of an ancient, stylized lynx carved within its warm surface, I murmur, “I’m sorry it’s taken so long, my love, but our separation is nearly over.
We are forever. Not even death can keep us apart. ”