The one in front lifted its hood, revealing a cascade of shimmering blonde hair. Kelly’s accusing eyes stared back at me. “Burn the witches. Burn them all!”
CHAPTER FOUR
FOUR: MAEVE
Ahand shook me from my nightmares.
“Maeve,” Rowan’s gentle voice soothed me into the real world – the world where my men weren’t pierced on wooden stakes. “Your mother is awake.”
Your mother is awake.Four totally normal words that made absolutely no sense. And yet, here they were being uttered. I guess nothing was really normal at Briarwood Castle.
I dragged my tired body into some jeans and my new Blood Lust t shirt, and followed Rowan downstairs to the library. My mother’s ghost lay across the sofa, her dainty feet resting on top of the arm, and her body wrapped in layers of blankets. A tray of scones with jam and cream and a pot of tea sat on the coffee table next to her. Corbin sat behind his desk, poring through a thick volume. Flynn, Blake, and Arthur stood or sat around the room, watching her with various expressions – from curiosity to reverence to blatant distrust.
“Where are Jane and Kelly?” I asked.
“In the Great Hall, watching reality TV and demolishing a pile of Rowan’s scones,” Corbin grinned. “I figure that’s going to buy us at least an hour.”
“You talked to them?” I asked, a warning creeping into my voice.
“Not really. We grunted good morning to each other.” He shot me a meaningful look, which I chose to ignore.
“These sconesaredelicious,” the woman on the couch said, smacking her lips together. “It’s been twenty-one years since I last tasted food. I used to dream about roast potatoes.”
I eyed the scone in her hand, then touched the one left on the plate. It was real. “So you’redefinitelynot a ghost?”
She smiled. “I seem pretty corporeal. Truthfully, I don’t know what I am. The magic that held me inside the painting is not something I’ve ever seen before.”
“Are you up to this?” Rowan asked, pouring out tea. “Maeve and Corbin are going to have a million questions.”
“I’m fine, Rowan.” She took another big bite of scone. “The power of English baking sustains me. I’m not surprised you’re a whiz in the kitchen. Your father was the most incredible cook.”
“Don’t talk about our parents,” Arthur growled.
Rowan bowed his head, staring at the floor. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but Corbin beat me to it.
The woman’s eyes widened. “But why not? Don’t you want to know what they were like when they were young and foolish?”
Cold silence answered her question. She shrugged, and took another bite of her scone.
I leaned forward. “Rowan’s right about the questions. I’ll start. What should we call you?”
“Aline. Or Mum. You could call me Num.” Tears glistened in the corners of her eye.
“That’s not happening.” I rubbed my tired eyes. I wished I’d thought to have some coffee before we did this. “Aline,presumably if you were declared dead, then there must’ve been a body. That body is still buried somewhere in the ground, turningback into stardust. So how are you here now with a body that looks perfectly fine and not at all like a zombie?”
Aline looked down at the baggy black t-shirt Arthur had given her clinging to her shapely body. “I can’t answer that one.”
“I can.” Corbin met my gaze and gave me an apologetic smile. “I was going to show you one day, but I didn’t think you needed it right when you were mourning the Crawfords. Aline’s body was never recovered, but there was a lot of blood and a charred patch of earth in the circle, along with a lock of her hair. The witches assumed the fae destroyed her body as a final insult, since she had stopped them from raising the Slaugh. My parents placed a memorial stone for her in a corner of the orchard.”
Shit.
I don’t know what my mother’s lack of remains meant, but I knew it was important.
Aline patted her breast, grinning. “Phew, that explains that, then. This body is all mine, baby.”
Baby?I watched her face. Was she trying to…flirtwith Corbin?
This whole thing is way too fucking weird.
