The Rise of the Dark Lord Read online

That was so totally not a good idea considering, if I had a moment with my thoughts, it would be figuring out how I could murder a couple hot guys and get away with it.

  “That’d be awesome,” I replied.

  He appeared amused (I was noting that vampires tend to be in good moods a lot of the time—but, see, if you arrested at an age when you looked awesome, you never aged another day, remained healthy with a spring in your step until you eventually just turned to dust 250 to 300 years after becoming a vampire, you would too).

  Then he kissed my temple and got out of the couch.

  At the door, though, he turned to me and said, “Remember, Matty. They both fell in love with you too. So what you just learned did not make you happy. Consider how it felt for Aidan this past month. Not to mention Ash.”

  Grr.

  “More reason for them just to tell me.”

  “Aidan was a man who watched the woman he loved hold the man she loved in her arms while he was dying. And then he died. A woman who has the onus of the peace and stability of the world on her shoulders. I know you have a big heart, honey. Listen to it.”

  With that, he left.

  And so wenteth my first one-on-one with Dad.

  Ack.

  Not long after that, Ash came home from his run.

  As the bathroom was through the bedroom, he found me, seeing as I had retreated to my princess fortress in order to focus on strategy to find some way to buy a new kickass outfit to sit down and negotiate peace between the supernatural world and the normal world and not form strategy to commit hot-guy-icide (x2).

  As a reminder, my princess fortress was what I made up when I was a child where I lay on my back in my bed on pillows behind my head with pillows down either side on which to rest my precious princess arms.

  I retreated to my princess fortress when things got super intense.

  Including now.

  When I was no longer a child.

  No one in the world knew about my princess fortress.

  Except Sir Sebastian Quincy Wilding.

  Thus, when he returned after his run, I saw him standing at the foot of the bed, sweaty (mm) with lips twitching (gluh), staring down at me.

  “You’re moving back to the big house,” I shared.

  “I am?” he asked.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely,” I said.

  “What happened between me leaving you sleeping off the orgasm I gave you and coming back after a run?”

  “The jig went up,” I shared. “The thing is, you died for me, so you won. But then you and Aidan played me, and you played me the way you played me, so I don’t want either of you anymore.”

  He did not give me his clotted-cream look that said he was the victor and he intended to enjoy his spoils by devouring me in fantabulous ways.

  He did not give me his determined look that said he was going to get what he wanted regardless of how I felt about it.

  And he did not give me one of his cross or impatient looks that said I was working his nerves.

  He didn’t even give me one of his broody looks that gave nothing away about his thoughts at all (except the fact he was broody).

  He gave me a look I’d never seen on him before.

  A remorseful one.

  He then did what he did the last time I retreated to my princess fortress.

  He breached the fortress.

  This time he did it by pulling the pillow out from under one of my arms, tossing it to the end of the bed, sitting on the bed by my hip, and then leaning over me, weight in one hand he’d put in the bed on the other side of my body.

  I wanted to stare at the ceiling, but since Ash’s face was in mine, I didn’t have that choice.

  I wasn’t going to appear weak by closing my eyes.

  So I glared at him.

  “He’s in love with you too, you know,” he said softly.

  Ouch x7.

  Aidan was in love with me.

  I was in love with Aidan.

  I was also in love with Ash.

  Ash had not shared he was in love with me (to be fair, I hadn’t told him I was in love with him either…and now I thank the Goddess I had not).

  Aidan told Ash I told him that.

  Ash and Aidan had played me.

  I had been in some rather significant (understatement) mental stress about this whole two-loves-of-my-life, one-to-be-husband, one-to-be-sacrifice for months and months and months, and now that it was over, I wasn’t a victor enjoying her spoils. I was furious at both of them and wanted nothing to do with either of them anymore.

  “More reason not to use my body and play with my mind,” I retorted.

  His eyes roamed my face before he murmured, “Christ, you don’t remember.”

  “I remember everything.”

  I saw his hand come toward me in my peripheral vision as he began, “Matty—”

  “Do not fucking touch me.”

  The remorse came back, it pricked me deep, but the determined was behind it and his hand dropped away.

  “Sweetheart, you came undone in the hospital,” he whispered.

  I stared up at him.

  “Minerva had to spell you. You were doing harm to humans.”

  I blinked up at him.

  “It tore Seymour apart.”

  I swallowed.

  “It was his idea. I agreed. We decided we would keep things as we were until you figured it out and then you could be the one to let him down.”

  Holy crap!

  That had to…

  To…

  Well, kill.

  And Aidan did that…

  For me?

  “He just…” Ash did a short shake of his head. “He was in love with you and it was too much. So we figured out a way to get him home so it could be done for him and then you and I could work it out and it would just be done. For all of us. Because, I think it goes without saying, this hasn’t been all that fun for me either.”

  Okay…

  Um…

  Well…

  Boo fucking hoo.

  Because, yeah, that had to be hard, for both of them.

  And yeah, in a messed-up, totally man way, it seemed logical, the decision they made on their course of action.

  Also yeah, I do not remember coming undone in the hospital.

  Truth be told, I hadn’t thought about it (because, duh! I didn’t want to, Ash died in my arms after taking a bullet for me).

  But I didn’t remember anything between BecBec singing her song with the gossamer coming off her wings floating all around me and the dead body of Ash in my arms in the back of Aidan’s Mercedes and then waking up the next morning in my bed with my head in my mother’s lap and Mom sharing Ash had made it. He was going to be alright.

  Though, thinking about it right then, I remember snippets of having my wand, being in a hospital ward, and a lot of my electric blue magic flashing about with people screaming.

  And one of those people was me.

  So I quit thinking about it.

  But the bottom line was, they made a decision that involved me without me involved in the decision-making part of that scenario.

  They decided what was good for me.

  And what they decided was what they’d decided Hallowe’en night when they kept the big plot from me, and it all happened to me, not with me being a part of the process, the planning, as well as the undertaking.

  In other words, they decided that I was weak.

  I needed to be lied to and manipulated into a situation where I thought I was the one who was making my own decisions.

  So, in the end, they made it harder on themselves and me.

  Just like Hallowe’en night.

  “You know, things are going to get worse,” I told him.

  “Pardon?” he asked.

  “With all that’s going down. It’s only going to get worse.”

  “Mathilda—”

  “And somewhere along that line, you’re going to have to learn to trust me.”

 
Ash’s face went broody.

  “Last night, you made me promise to trust you and Aidan when you were lying to me,” I carried on. “Now, although you made it very clear you believed in me, if you look at your own behaviors, you so do not.”

  I almost couldn’t credit it, but I could swear he appeared startled.

  I didn’t linger on that.

  I kept talking. “Ash, you’re going to have to trust me to be mature, to be an adult, to be strong, to have my shit together, because no matter what you think, I actually do. I might not be perfect, but I’m no ignoramus either—”

  “Of course you’re not,” he growled.

  I again ignored how affronted Ash sounded at the thought that I thought he thought I was an ignoramus.

  “And, you know, I made this huge-ass speech to the gathering about being with me or against me and I never would have thought in my wildest imaginings that I’d have to tell the people closest to me that they needed to sort their own shit and make that same decision.”

  “Mathilda, I have lived my entire life knowing I’d stand by your side, walk by your side, parent by your side, live by your side and fight by your side,” he rumbled, no longer remorseful or broody and definitely not startled.

  He was pissed.

  “And that I also might die at your side,” he concluded.

  “Well, bud, now you’ve made it so you’re going to have to earn your place by my side,” I returned.

  He scowled down at me.

  I glared up at him.

  He broke our staring contest by reminding me, “I took a bullet for you, sweetheart.”

  “Yeah, and then you betrayed me, baby.”

  He looked like he’d happily strangle me.

  I hoped I kinda looked the same, but I figured I didn’t because I wasn’t quite at one with my inner badass.

  Not yet.

  But I was going to get there.

  (Though, one could say to get there, I’d have to climb out of my princess fortress…but whatever.)

  “And my suggestion is you meditate on how you do that somewhere else,” I went on. “If you want me to help you pack, I’ll take care of that chore while you shower.”

  “You’re not here by yourself at night.”

  “It’s protected.”

  “You’re not here by yourself at night.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “You’re not here by yourself at night.”

  Gah!

  I switched tactics.

  “You’re not sleeping in my bed.”

  “Then I’ll be on the couch. That is, until you beg me to come back to your bed.”

  “Don’t hold your breath for that, Sir Sebastian.”

  He dipped so his face was a breath from mine.

  “It won’t be me holding my breath, darling,” he said silkily.

  Then he pushed away, got off the bed, stalked to the bathroom and slammed the door.

  I sat up, grabbed my pillow, and restored my princess fortress.

  Seriously.

  Seriously!

  Men!

  By the by, Ash didn’t delay in sharing the jig was up with Aidan.

  Fortunately, Aidan was four thousand, six hundred and sixty-two (give or take a few, and yes, I looked it up) miles away from me.

  So it was easy to decline his phone calls.

  Well, not easy emotionally.

  But at least physically, it was only a press on a touch screen.

  Since there’s so much that happened the rest of December, I’ll sum up:

  In full Chosen One, Prophesied to Save the World Snit, I informed Dad that I would not be sitting down to peace talks with the A Team until the New Year.

  I had things to do.

  Holidays to celebrate.

  Grudges to hold.

  Shops to refurbish.

  Killer outfits to find.

  Dad did not hide he found this amusing.

  My financial worries disappeared when the people that had approached Lucy and me about our cookbook and our cookery program pushed it, we found an agent, and they offered a staggering advance that blew both Lucy and my minds.

  We accepted.

  That deal included a marketing plan that heralded world (cookery) domination which included more cookbooks (we contracted for three of them), the aforementioned cookery program filmed at The Witches Dozen back in Clevedon and bakeware, cookware, stoneware and utensil lines.

  For starters.

  We immediately holed up with Mack (who I didn’t make a general of anything (yet), except general in charge of designing our “brand” seeing as he was an artist, the classes he taught at his school were graphic design, including three about using design and art in advertising, promotion, marketing and branding) and Su and some geeky friend of Su’s who programmed websites.

  And after a forty-eight-hour marathon session, we launched it and all our social media platforms in a haze of Cheetos dust (created by Su and her geek friend) and piles of dirty coffee mugs (created by Lucy and me).

  I returned from this session to the Cottage only to find Ash standing in the middle of the living room.

  When I closed the door, four (more) Post-its fell off the wall.

  Hmm.

  “You forget something?” he asked, gesturing with a sweep of his hand to my Post-it strategy that was now mostly bits of paper lying on the floor.

  I rolled my eyes and stomped to my bedroom.

  My magickal larder issue was eradicated when, for Yule, I received five very large (and insanely expensive to ship) boxes that contained what appeared to be every bit and bob from my magic room in England, save the furniture.

  It was Aidan who sent them.

  In them, however, was something that was not in my magic room.

  A framed photo of Clevedon Pier, the site where Aidan had asked me out on our first date, on the back of which, it said,

  You’ll always be my first love. Aidan

  This infuriated me because a) I didn’t know I was his first love (and I didn’t need that guilt trip) and b) I hadn’t forgiven him yet (so I didn’t need that guilt trip either) and c) I hadn’t gotten him anything for Yule (and I didn’t need that guilt trip) and last d) I was telling myself I was feeling one doozy of a guilt trip when in reality my heart was bleeding.

  Ash, by the way, for Yule left a small, beautifully wrapped box on my pillow.

  Of course, I opened it.

  In it was a Cartier box and in that Cartier box was an exquisite diamond bracelet.

  We were mind-melded, of course (mental note: find time to continue research on how to break magical mind-meld Mavis saddled me with), so it was no surprise that, even though I had been alone when I’d arrived in my bedroom to find the box, after I opened it, he spoke from the doorway.

  “Wilding women wear their men’s regard.”

  Oh boy.

  He kept going. “A great deal of it.”

  I was getting that, considering I was holding a small fortune of diamonds in my hand.

  “And I mean quality and quantity,” he finished.

  Yikes.

  “I didn’t get you anything,” I sniffed, hoping to give him the impression that was because I was still magnificently pissed at him, because it was.

  “You never have to give me anything, Mathilda.”

  “Well, that’s good, considering the last gift I gave you, you wore when you fake-betrayed me, that being before you real-betrayed me.”

  “Which was after it got ruined when I took a bullet for you, but I wore it so you’d clue the fuck in that I actually wasn’t betraying you and you could relax and trust that I had your safety in hand. Something you did not do.”

  So that was why he wore that shirt that night.

  Okay, maybe I was part ignoramus.

  I wasn’t going to admit that to Ash.

  I also wasn’t going to share that the best way for me to know he wasn’t betraying me was to tell me the plan that made it seem like he was going to b
etray me.

  “And you replaced it with three more shirts the minute I hit Denver,” he reminded me.

  I forgot about that.

  I just rolled my eyes again.

  “You know you do that when you come,” he stated conversationally. “Roll your eyes like that.”

  Argh!

  I dangled the bracelet at him and said words that very nearly killed me.

  “You can take this back.”

  “Sweetheart, no way in fuck I’m taking that back. You’re wearing that when you walk down the aisle on your way to marrying me.”

  “I’m never marrying you.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He then left.

  He, obviously, didn’t take the bracelet back.

  I, regrettably, didn’t wear it.

  Okay, so maybe I tried it on a time or two (or twelve).

  But I didn’t wear it out of my bedroom.

  Bewitched slowly but surely got put to rights.

  My Nantucket vision of whitewashed walls and floors and big Edison bulbs covered with massive globes coming from the ceiling and cream or blond-wood tables cabinets and display shelves that looked beachy and weather-beaten (but awesome!) came into being in the perfect season where I could (as self-proclaimed Head Buyer) fill it with glittery, silvery, delicious Christmas wares that walked out the door almost faster than we could put them on shelves.

  It wasn’t that I was just really good at this owning-your-own-small-business thing.

  I mean, I had worked in retail for years.

  This time, I’d done the training.

  Mom, Dad, Viv, Su, Gabe, Josie, Rory, Lucy and Mack all wanted to hold a big New Year’s Eve party.

  So they did.

  I abstained, holed in my bedroom (with the door locked and with my familiar Daphne curled into me), reading Karen Marie Moning’s Darkfever (and perving on Jericho Barrons), doing this wearing Ash’s bracelet, because, like I said, I only allowed myself to wear it while I was alone in my bedroom.

  I might be ringing in the New Year with MacKayla, Jericho and a fictional Dublin that was lousy with Faeries (how close to the truth that was made me wonder if Moning had a little magic herself) alone in my bed.

  But I was doing it wearing diamonds.