Sorcha clung to that hope, just as she held her friend in a special place in her heart.
Luke passed a knowing look at her as if he heard her thoughts. And with him, he just might be listening. “Patricia Owen. The Grand Witch of Nashville…how is Trish doing?”
The question surprised her. “You know her?”
“The devil knows all witches. Haven’t you heard?”
She snorted. “That’s not true. For one thing, Trish doesn’t believe in the devil. He’s not part of her religion.”
“You don’t have to believe in something for it to be real. I don’t believe in love, but millions of beings would tell me I’m an idiot and that it exists.”
She was surprised by his confession. “You really don’t believe in Cupid?”
He gave her an irritated smirk. “Only fools and children believe in something that made up. I rank him right up there with the Tooth Fairy.”
“And the Taj Mahal is what?”
“A building in India.”
She tsked at him. “An eternal, enduring testament to love.”
“A building,” Luke repeated.
“You are jaded.”
“I’m a realist with eyes. Only thing love is good for is sending deluded souls to Hell because they bought into that snake oil and drank it whole.”
She couldn’t argue that with him given the fact that those being sent to Hell fell within his wheelhouse, and he was the resident expert. “I feel bad for you.”
That actually caused him to slow down. “You feel sorry for me?”
“Yeah, I do. Love might be corrupted and abused by some, but it’s real. For better or worse.”
He inclined his head to her. “The last thing I want is to force my opinion on anyone. If you want to believe in love…more power to you.”
“Now you’re patronizing me.”
“I’m really not, Sorcha. I envy you the ability to stand by your belief given the nightmares we’ve seen. You look at someone and you think they have someone else’s best interest at heart. I look at someone and I see them looking at the other person as an extension of themselves or a tool to be used. An enemy they’re conspiring to take down. Looking for a way to leverage the relationship to benefit them and not the object of their affection.”
“Are you saying your fiercely protective mother sees you as an extension of herself?”
“Hell, yes.” Wide-eyed, Helly sat up in the backseat and leaned over to stare at Sorcha. “He’s her sacred embryo. He has no life outside of her and if he tries, she might eat his ankles just to hobble him so he can’t stray far from her.”
Her jaw fell open. “You’re serious?”
Helly nodded fiercely. “Mama is very possessive of her property and Luke is definitely hers. She doesn’t share him with anyone. Not even his father.”
That was a scary thought. No wonder Luke felt like he did. His father threw him out for no reason and his mother thought of him as…
A chew toy? Weird and gross analogy considering it was his mother they were talking about, but given what Helly said, it might not be far off the mark.
She shivered, then decided to change the subject. “So who’s this witch you’re talking about?”
“An old friend of Bernadette’s. They went to high school together.”
That was interesting, indeed. “Did Bernadette introduce you?”
He nodded as Helly returned to her spot in the backseat. “You’ll like her.”
