

**The Hunted**

Prequel Novella to Blood of a Werewolf

**and**

_Excerpt from_

**Blood of a Werewolf**

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**T. Lynne Tolles**
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**The Hunted**

Prequel Novella to Blood of a Werewolf

T. Lynne Tolles

Version 1.1 March 25, 2013

Copyright © 2013 T. Lynne Tolles

ISBN: 978-1-3018683-1-5

Edited by Erin Potter of Shamrock Editing

**Blood of a Werewolf**

First eleven and a half chapters

T. Lynne Tolles

2nd Edition

Version 1.0.0 February 10, 2014

Copyright © 2014 T. Lynne Tolles

ISBN: 978-0-9829876-0-5

Edited by Erin Potter of Shamrock Editing

Cover Design by Melchelle Designs

Digital Formatting by Author E.M.S.

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Publisher's Note

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, locals or events is coincidental.

T. Lynne Tolles

Troll Publishing

**Table of Contents**

Copyright

THE HUNTED

BLOOD OF A WEREWOLF – Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

About the Author

**The Hunted**

Prequel to Blood of a Werewolf

Devon approached a black Audi TT in the badly lit parking garage and hit the unlock button on his keychain. He was fully aware that he was being followed by someone or something but showed no sign of that knowledge to his follower. This wasn't the first time he had been in this kind of predicament; he and his brother Blake had spent most of their adult life on the run. Some that came after them were better than others, but when you lived the kind of life Devon and Blake did, you learned a few things along the way.

His pursuer—a heavy set man, badly dressed, with no agility whatsoever—was mediocre at best and Devon had detected him almost as soon as he had left his office building. Devon had reasoned that this man used his mass and strength to overcome his victims, not nimble prowess.

Devon could see his own reflection on the car as he reached for the door handle. Even as he feigned unawareness, his dark eyes searched for his attacker in the reflection. He caught just a glimpse of the lumbering man making a dash for him in the darkness.

Devon skillfully spun around as the heavy-handed man grabbed at him from behind. Devon was deceptively strong for his just under six foot tall, lean stature. He used his body weight in his spin to propel the briefcase in his hand into the face of his attacker. The weight of the laptop within served as an added kick to the man's face, leaving him stunned and bloodied from a newly split lip.

Devon's attacker quickly steadied himself and threw a punch. Devon sidestepped the punch, surprising the man, and slammed the opened door of the Audi into his body, pinning him between the car and door. When Devon pulled the door open again the man moaned, staggering forward where the door had been. Devon locked his hands together and slammed them down hard on the back of the man's neck, rendering the man flat on the ground and out cold.

Devon grabbed his briefcase with what he knew contained a smashed laptop. He grumbled as he tossed it into the car onto the passenger's seat, then jumped in and started the car before he'd even closed the door. Slamming the huge man's body into the door had sprung the door's hinges and it took three attempts to get it to close well enough that he could drive the car.

He slammed the gearshift into reverse and stomped on the accelerator, smoking the tires on the slick cement floor, and then threw the gearshift into drive and peeled out leaving only smoke and tread behind him.

Once out of the parking garage and into the streets of the city, he pulled his smartphone out of his jacket pocket. He hit a button and said, "Text Blake."

The phone beeped and he said, "611, send." The phone beeped in response.

Over the years Devon and Blake had come up with codes to inform one another of impending problems.

911 meant, "I'm in trouble. I need help," and the receiver would engage a GPS tracker programmer on their phone to locate the sender and head there to help.

811 meant, "I'm in trouble at home."

711 meant, "I'm in trouble, could use a distraction."

611 meant, "I've been attacked. I'm okay. Meet me at the house."

This was the message he was sending to his brother now. It had been tested, used, and amended many times. If one brother made it to the house before the other, he'd pack his own stuff, then pack for his sibling if he hadn't shown up yet. It was fast, well-practiced, and allowed them to get as far away from the impending danger as they could in a short amount of time. There were many variations to the plan and many predefined codes. It was rather like a playbook a football quarterback and his teammates would memorize for different patterns of defense and offense.

It saddened Devon that their lives had come to this—a bunch of codes, moving all the time, and always, ALWAYS there was the danger of one or both of them being killed. He wanted more of a life for his little brother—stability, a home, some place they could feel safe. He wished these things for himself as well, but this was the life they'd been dealt. _No sense in wishing for things out of your control_ , he thought.

Devon looked over at his briefcase as he set the smartphone on the armrest between the two seats. He shook his head and smirked, releasing a long, loose lock of his dark hair from his ponytail that swept across his cheek, tickling his nose. _Damn...another computer,_ he thought with disappointment. Though he had gotten into the habit of backing it up daily, it was a rather expensive way to do battle and a pain in the neck to load and set up the way he liked, but it worked and it was better to have to replace his computer than be killed, leaving his brother to fend for himself.

A couple more turns and finally he was on the freeway heading to the condo. He stomped on the accelerator and felt the transmission slip easily into its last gear as he weaved fluidly in and out of the traffic. The tension and adrenaline waned as he took a deep breath and sighed with a little relief. Driving had always been relaxing to him. The sweet smell of leather, the purr of the engine, and a driver's seat that conformed to him like it was an extension of his body giving him support in the turns—this was relaxing to him.

A few minutes later he passed a highway sign announcing the approaching exit when his phone chimed. He looked at it to see an emoticon from Blake—a semicolon and a capital 'P' responding to his displeasure at having to move on again. Devon understood Blake's disappointment and felt the same.

Taking the long, sweeping off-ramp, Devon was making his way through streetlights and stop signs into the neighborhood they had barely gotten to know. This had been a short stint, less than three months. Either they were getting sloppy in covering their tracks or the hunters were getting smarter.

Looking back at the last two places they had rented and how they lived their lives, he felt sure that it must be due to sloppiness. The hunters they had seen lately hardly seemed like rocket scientists; however, he hadn't really carried on any kind of conversation with the fellows. There's not really time for small talk when you're trying not to be killed.

_It must have been those speeding tickets Blake got and that little run in with the Feds when he got caught hacking into the police and DMV database to clean up his driving record_ , Devon thought. Their uncle had pulled some strings with somebody important and gotten the authorities to drop the charges, but if the hunters were looking in the right place at the right time, they'd have had a straight shot to their front door.

It had been a scary time for them both. Blake was looking at hard time in federal prison and if that wasn't enough, Devon would be on his own without a back-up. Blake could be a pain in the butt, but he ALWAYS had Devon's back. Blake was known to be flaky—he admitted as much—but when it came to Devon, Blake was unfailing. He wasn't as strong as Devon, but he was quick, wiry, and agile for someone so tall. Smart too—too smart for his own good. Devon always wished Blake would put that talent to good use, but so far it had almost landed him in an eight by eight cell with bars for a window.

"I knew that fancy car of his would cause us trouble," Devon said out loud to no one but himself, shaking his head. He knew, though, it would be a long, drawn out war to try and get Blake to get another car. If Blake was anything, he was stubborn— _stubborn as a mule_. Devon thought back over the years and wondered just how many times he'd thought or said those words to his brother. Thinking about his brother's stubbornness and the trouble it caused them put a faint smile on Devon's face.

Devon pulled into the parking lot of the condo complex and backed into a spot that was not his own where he and his brother made sure the light was always broken. It made the black car almost invisible. Like a cat, Devon made his way slinking from one shadow to another until he made it to the familiar door. Without making a sound, he unlocked the door and quickly stepped in. He kept the lights off and moved silently through the condo grabbing this and that from here and there until he had assembled all that he needed—the necessities. The rest could be bought on the road or when they settled again.

_So far so good_ , he thought. Often the hunters came in pairs and would be waiting for them back at their latest sojourn. Of course he wasn't out of trouble just yet. With a pen light he continued on to Blake's room, packing those things his brother had informed him were requisite to his needs. Some of the items Blake had told him not to forget seemed ridiculous to Devon, but he knew there'd been a few things he had requested his brother grab for him that may have seemed the same to Blake. Like the copy of _War and Peace_ he'd put on his necessity list. What Blake didn't know was that it wasn't the book itself that meant anything to Devon, it was the flower pressed between the pages he had put there the day of their parents' funeral. He had taken that flower from their mother's coffin that day and deposited it in the book. It served no real purpose, the dry, frail blossom, but it was his last connection to their parents and he wasn't willing to part with it, if he didn't have to.

With bags packed and slung over his shoulder, he texted Blake another code informing him he had everything and was heading to the designated meeting place. As before, he kept to the shadows trying not to be seen. He was alert to anyone or anything that made a sound or posed a threat in his proximity.

A guy wearing jeans that sagged so much Devon wasn't sure how he was keeping them up was carrying a bag of trash across the parking lot fifty yards or so away. His flip flops smacked the pavement loudly as he shuffled along. Devon was startled by the sound of the trash bag crashing to the bottom of the obviously empty dumpster. The sound of crashing and breaking bottles echoed out of the trash bin and off the walls of the nearby buildings. It had been so loud and distracting that Devon never heard the grisly, dark man step out of the shadows between two large bushes and in behind him.

Something cold and hard raked the back of Devon's shirt and instantly he knew what it was and that he was in serious trouble.

"Hands where I can see them," said the hunter, poking him hard with the gun.

Devon slowly raised his empty hands and stood silent and unmoving as his mind raced. This had been a clever hunter, waiting for a cloak of distraction. The hunter in the parking garage had been easy to spot. He had been clumsy and plodding, albeit strong. This hunter, however, had been stealthy. Devon was going to have to come up with something clever to get out of this on his own; after all, he had already sent the code to Blake that he was on his way to the meeting place. By the time Blake started to worry something might be amiss, things would be done here. He was on his own for this one.

The gun nudged him forward towards a building between a break in the carports. It was the laundry room, Devon knew. The windows were small, dark, and high—too high and small to get out of, and dark due to the light timer that had been installed to save electricity and money.

Devon was forced at gunpoint to the door and shoved into it, which indicated to Devon that his hunter wanted him to go inside. Devon opened the door into the dark, muggy room to be blinded instantly by the fluorescent tubes of light that hummed and popped as they grew in brightness. They had been activated by the motion sensor that had been tripped when they'd entered the room. It was loud and humid in there. A washing machine working on the spin cycle of what must have been a very heavy load seemed to be doing some kind of strange hula dance as it inched forward. Two dryers hummed side by side, tumbling their contents round and round within.

_Quite a good place to "take care of business" so to speak_ , Devon thought. The windows were too high for a passerby to see anything nefarious going on, and it was noisy already so a muffled gun shot might be heard but might not be identified as anything more than a car back firing. Lastly, the room could be locked from within to ensure there would be no interruptions.

Devon stepped further into the room, his mind running in overtime trying to come up with a plan. He still had the duffle bags hanging from one shoulder and thought maybe he could use them somehow. There was nothing horribly heavy in either of them, unlike the heft of his computer in his briefcase, but maybe he could knock the hunter off balance, giving him some time to try and knock the gun from his hand. He waited for the hunter to come closer to him, and under the guise of turning to face him, Devon spun quickly at the last moment. The weight of the bags gained force with the spin and Devon kicked his leg out, catching the hunter behind one ankle and sending him backwards out of balance.

It was not enough to make the hunter fall, but the man did have to steady himself with his gun hand. This was Devon's chance. With the gun temporarily not pointed at him, he dropped the bags and lunged at his attacker, sending them both into the loudly thumping, out of balance washer, returning it to its original spot against the wall.

Devon grabbed the hunter's wrists, keeping the gun pointed away from him. Unable to turn the gun on Devon in such close proximity, the hunter slammed the gun into Devon's head, splitting it open near the temple and his left eye. The men spun back and forth in an awkward dance as each forced their strength upon the other. Still holding the man's wrists, Devon's back met the wall with a bang. He kneed the hunter's thigh and turned them pinning the hunter to the wall. He slammed the hand holding the gun over and over again into the wall until finally the hunter dropped it near Devon's foot. He kicked it away from them. He released the hunter's wrists, cupped both his hands, and slapped both the hunter's ears at the same time.

The hunter was disoriented by the blow and Devon was sure his ears were ringing, but the hunter still threw two quick punches, landing one in Devon's abdomen and the other in his left lower jaw. Surprised by the blows but shaking them off, Devon planted one of his own punches into the hunter's left cheekbone then slid towards his nose. The hunter stumbled back reeling from the pain as he staggered forward. Devon put all his strength into his next punch, catching the hunter just under the jaw and lifting him up a tiny bit. The hunter fell back into a heap on the floor near a silent washing machine. Devon cradled his aching, bloody fist in his other hand.

Once he could see that the hunter was not getting up, he grabbed the bags and fled the laundry room, limping towards his car. He knew he looked like hell and kept his head down in hopes no one would notice the blood running down his face or his bloodied fist. The pain was starting to kick in as he strained to get the thirty feet to the sanctuary of his car, when from behind he heard the whine of a revving motor and the skidding of tires. He turned just in time to see the hunter standing between him and the black sports car whose back end was skidding forward in an arc towards the swaying hunter taking aim at Devon.

As if in slow motion, the back quarter panel of the sports car skidded into the dazed hunter, sending him flying head first into the dumpster with a loud thump, and leaving him in a pile like old rubbish. A familiar face appeared out from behind the door of the devil black sports car and a very tall man unfolded himself from the car. Before Devon knew it, Blake had the bags and his beat up brother in the car and was burning rubber out of the parking lot.

They were on the freeway in no time, flying like the wind, when Blake asked, "You okay?"

"Ya. I'll be fine. Just a little sore," Devon answered, cupping his fist. "How did you know something was wrong?"

"I didn't, but when you texted I was so close to the condo, I thought I'd just do a drive by to make sure you had left," Blake said.

"Glad you did," Devon admitted, wincing.

"Well, someone has to look out for you," Blake said, loving this moment. Often it was Devon saving Blake's hide, so he was really enjoying being the hero this time.

Devon's glare soon broke into a strained smile.

"So where to this time?" Blake asked, smiling ear to ear.

"I don't know, maybe west?"

"West? Cool. California then? I need to spy me some teeny bikini-clad surfer girls," Blake said as he put on his sunglasses and turned to Devon with a huge, cheesy smile. He looked ridiculous wearing sunglasses in the dark car at night, but Devon thought anything less just wouldn't be Blake.

"California it is," Devon said, sinking back into the leather seat and listening to the hum of the engine as Blake turned onto the lazy, sweeping on-ramp to Highway 80 west.
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**Blood of a Werewolf**

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**Chapter 1**

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It was one hundred and one degrees out, which was unusually hot for being so close to the coast in the San Francisco Bay area.

Feeling rather like a fruit roll-up, Darby O'Rielly peeled her sweaty legs from the car seat when she arrived home after working all day.

Thankfully, hot days in the bay area were often cooled in the late afternoon by ocean breezes and a blanket of fog. This evening was no exception.

The sun was low in the west but hours from setting when Darby climbed the porch steps of the cute little bungalow she called home. She and her sister Rowan inherited the house from their parents when they died a few years back. It was an older craftsman style house with a deep porch for enjoying the long summer evenings. Its deep gray-blue paint was trimmed in white and accentuated the smooth river rock wainscoting to a tee.

Darby unlocked the deep burgundy colored door and dropped her keys and purse on the couch, making her way to the tiny table that housed the blinking light of the answering machine. Hitting the play button on the machine she continued down the hallway, shedding clothes as she made her way to the bedroom.

Rowan's recorded voice began pleading Darby to meet her at Paddy's, a local pub a few blocks away. Darby replied to the answering machine sarcastically, "Sure. Meet you at Paddy's so you can stand me up again? I don't think so."

She pulled out a pair of cut-offs from the laundry basket when the second message began to play. It, too, was from Rowan. Knowing Darby would doubt her sincerity, she added "I promise I'll be there this time. Please! Please! Please!"

Rowan knew her sister well. Rowan may have been undependable, but Darby was a sucker for her pleading little sister. Darby mumbled back to her sister's voice, "Yah! Yah!"

She came out to the living room hitting the 'on' button of the stereo, and grabbing its remote, she shoved it into her back pocket and headed for the front yard. With the unusually intense heat, there were a few plants in the yard in dire need of an extra dose of water. A commercial was playing on the stereo as she unwound the hose and turned on the water. Once the water squirted from the nozzle, she headed for droopy plants.

The grass was refreshing to her sweaty, hot feet but a shot of the hose on and around her toes felt fabulous. She even squished a little cold mud through them.

She made her way throughout the yard watering and enjoying the coolness. The heat pronounced the scents of the surrounding flowers exponentially. She closed her eyes enjoying each of the fragrances that rode on the gentle breeze kissing her face. Rosemary, jasmine, and lilac were the most dominant, but there were hints of sweet aromatic roses, and honeysuckle, reminiscent of past happy summers. She relished the scents and the memories they brought to mind when the Modern English song "I'll Stop The World and Melt With You" played on the stereo within the house. It was such a great song and so appropriate for a hot day.

She stood watering and savoring her little piece of paradise, humming along with the tune. The music engulfed her and over took her inhibitions. Her head started bouncing to the beat, then her hips started to move and she began to sing along louder and louder. Her front yard became her stage and she sang her heart out while dancing on the ankle-high lawn. She sprayed the water straight up and twirled beneath the rain of droplets. The sprinkling water against the purple-orange sky was stunning, falling to Earth like jewels. The cool water washed her of all the heat and stress of her day. The feeling was glorious—a sense of sweet euphoric release.

Exhilarated and smiling as the song came to an end, she spun once more and noticed someone on the front porch of the house next door watching her display of adolescence. She stopped immediately, pulled the remote out of her pocket and turned down the music. _How long had he been standing there? That house hasn't been rented for months_ , she thought to herself, yet there he was, hands folded across his chest, watching. And in case she wasn't already discomfited, he started clapping too.

Turning ten shades of red and wishing the Earth would swallow her whole, she spun on her heels, ran to the spigot, and turned off the water. Without winding up the hose, she sprinted up the porch steps and into the house shutting the door behind her. She stood with her back against the door and shook her head, as if to shake off the humiliation. Regaining a bit of her confidence, she headed for the shower.

With the water set at 'refreshingly chilly,' she stood beneath the spray and thought of the man on the porch. The long legs of the setting sun brought impatient shadows out of hiding. She'd only glimpsed at the man shrouded by the playful shadows, but she could tell he was tall and dark haired. He looked to be clad in a black t-shirt and jeans, but she could not discern much more.

After thinking about it, she noted his applause didn't appear to be condescending or rude; it seemed he genuinely enjoyed her performance.

_I wonder when he moved in,_ she thought to herself. _He's probably married to some Victoria's Secret model and has three kids. Or worse, he's a flake, who can't commit or keep a job_.

With that, she pushed him out of her mind and thought of Rowan's messages. _I should probably meet her. I haven't seen her in days; besides, it's Friday and it's too hot to cook._ It was decided, she would go to Paddy's and probably get stood up again, but at least she'd get a meal out of it.

As she dressed, a huge black and white fur ball made an appearance from under the bed and proceeded to perform figure eights around her legs. When he wasn't getting the attention he felt he deserved for this delightful task, he jumped on the bed.

"Hey, Harry, how was your day?" Darby asked. He responded with a loud purr. He arched his back to meet her hand as she stroked him. Without any warning, he fell with a thump onto his side for belly rubs. When she attempted to finish dressing, Harry reached out his huge paw and snagged the spaghetti straps of her top.

Harry was an unusually large cat, with soft, long black fur, a white undercarriage, and socks to match. He weighed in at about twenty-five pounds, maybe more. When Rowan teased Harry about his rather large belly, Darby defended him by saying, _he's just large boned._ When he lay on his back, she could see his pink tummy between the tufts of hair, making it incredibly hard to resist giving his tummy a rub. Though adorable to Darby, he was extremely talkative, a bit of a wide load, and could purr and eat at the same time without choking.

Darby slipped on her tank top and made for the kitchen to fill Harry's bowl. Knowing what was in store, Harry followed her. He rubbed on her arm as she set down the bowl and purred with delight. After she replenished Harry's water bowl, she grabbed her keys, license, a credit card, and the cash in her wallet, locked the door, and headed out.

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Paddy's was a local haunt for young and old in Oljone. In this small town, everybody knew everybody, and their business. Paddy's was a comfortable place even for a single gal. There was a fireplace, a few comfy chairs, and a loveseat to watch the mesmerizing flames of blue, orange, and yellow lick the fake log eagerly. Of course, there was a big wooden bar, lots of beer on tap, dartboards, and a fairly clean women's bathroom. No gal likes an icky bathroom, especially if she's drinking beer, because as everyone knows, after you go the first time, you're in there every fifteen minutes thereafter.

Paddy's wife, Kate, made the best burgers around and her fries, well, Darby felt "Yummy" covered it.

Kyle, the hired help, worked most nights behind the bar. Darby went to high school with him and his wife Jen who'd been battling a bout of cancer the last few months.

"Hey, Kyle—Happy Friday!" she said as she sat on the barstool.

"Hey yourself, Darby! Good to see you," he replied with his usual big smile.

"How did Jenn's doctor appointment go this week?" she asked, hoping and praying for good news.

He beamed from ear to ear. "Good, good. All the tests came back with negative results, so we are hopeful. Her hair is growing back now that she's done with the chemo sessions. She's really happy about that. She still has bad days, but they're getting fewer and fewer. The doctors seem very optimistic, so we are thrilled!"

"Oh my God, Kyle! That is such great news." She leaned over the bar and gave him a huge hug.

"Tell Jenn I hope to see her out and about soon, and send her my love," Darby added.

"I will. I know she appreciates all the books, flowers, and cards you've sent these last couple of months. You've been a great friend, Darby," Kyle replied with a warm smile.

"Aw, well aren't you just the sweetest thing. You're going to make me cry. You and Jenn are just the best, and I can't think of anyone more deserving of some good," Darby relayed, her eyes welling up.

"Thanks. So what can I get you? Are you waiting on Rowan?" Kyle asked.

"Well, for starters, could you get me a pint of Redhook and put in an order for one of Kate's specials? As for Rowan, she said to meet her here, but I don't actually expect her to show," Darby answered.

While Darby talked, Kyle filled a glass with beer and set it on a napkin in front of her. Without skipping a beat he pulled the pencil from behind his ear, pad from his rear pocket, and jotted down her order. All the while listening to Darby talk, he walked towards the kitchen door then replied, "She's at that age. We all went through it. Hey, grab your favorite chair by the fireplace before it gets crowded. I'll be back in a flash; I'm putting your order in."

Darby picked up her beer and napkin and headed for the familiar blue chair she loved. She jokingly told Kate that if the chair ever disappeared, she would probably find it in Darby's front room. It was wide enough to cross her legs and read a magazine or just ponder life in its friendly embrace. It was covered with the softest blue velvet; the cushions were perfectly broken in, in all the right places, and it formed to her body perfectly.

She took a big swig of beer before setting her glass on the coffee table, then plopped into the chair and stared at the fire. All the week's worries and stresses melted away.

Kyle yelled across the room, "It'll be about fifteen minutes, Darby!"

"Thanks, big guy! No hurry!" she said. Without really thinking about it, she pulled a heart-shaped stone of amethyst out of her pocket and rubbed it with her thumb. It helped her relax. It was the stone she most connected with and always had in her pocket. Her father gave it to her when she was a child. Now, whenever she got nervous or stressed, she'd rub the stone and everything would feel okay.

She was in her own little comfortable world when a dark figure sat in the loveseat across from her. She noticed his presence giving him a glance and a smile as he seated himself. She sensed something from him—something dark and mysterious.

"You are the water nymph that lives next door, aren't you?" he said with the same devilish smile she'd seen in the shadows.

"Huh? Water nymph?" she said in confusion. His remark caught her off her guard.

"I'll Stop The World and Melt With You," he sang in perfect pitch.

The memory flooded back and she nervously took hold of her beer for something to do with her hands. "Ah, my groupie."

"At your service, my lady." He stood and bowed to her like a peasant to his royal majesty.

"Hmmm," she nodded nobly with affirmation, adding a little smile. But inside, she was as giddy as a little girl—she thought to herself, _He is very smooth—and gorgeous to boot_.

He smiled.

She offered her hand to him, palm down, keeping up the ruse and said, "I'm Darby O'Rielly. Who might you be?"

He took her hand and kissed it so tenderly that she felt her heart skip a beat or ten.

"I'm Devon Bloomington and it is an honor to meet you, Darby O'Rielly."

She flushed from head to toe, something she hadn't done since she was a girl _. This guy can't be for real, can he?_ she thought.

His shoulder length dark hair was pulled back into a pony tail, but the loose curls would not be tamed so easily giving him a bit of a disheveled look. Between heart stopping smiles, his hypnotic eyes seemed to see into her jumble of thoughts that raced in her mind. The color of mahogany wood with flecks of caramel, they lit up like a little boy's when he smiled.

She fumbled with a response. "Thank you, Devon, it's a pleasure to meet you too. I guess you are renting the house from the Bennetts?" Well, _duh,_ she thought to herself. _Obviously._

"Yes, my younger brother, Blake, and I have rented the house for the next three months; though, I'm not really sure my brother will be there much," he answered with a sense of disappointment.

She found herself watching him talk and noting each of his seemingly perfect features as if cataloging them for future reference. A bit of peach fuzz, she was sure he referred to as a mustache, adorned such succulent lips that she felt herself start to reach forward to touch them. She stopped herself and thankfully it went unnoticed as he continued to talk.

"I totally understand. My little sister, Rowan, lives with me too, but I rarely am blessed with her presence. She's a firecracker and a whole lot of fun to be around, but she can be flakey. For instance, she begged me to come here tonight, but I doubt she'll show. Don't get me wrong, I love her to death, but I worry about her all the time," she said.

He listened intently as if no other person in the room existed and this dumfounded her. She'd never had a guy look at her the way HE looked at her. It was strange and peculiar, but she liked it.

With a knowing nod and a raised eyebrow, he replied, "Sounds like my brother and your sister are one in the same; Yin and Yang, so to speak."

She meandered past his lips noting a line of hair about a half inch thick that extended from his lower lip to his chin, merging with a tiny tuft of a beard—a goatee of sorts, strangely seductive on him.

_My God, what is wrong with me?_ she thought. She wanted to listen to every word he spoke but kept finding herself distracted by his beauty. The darkness she sensed when he sat had disappeared and this gorgeous man had taken its place. Maybe it was just her hormones talking. She didn't know, and right now, she didn't care.

She took a long sip of her beer and replied, "Hmm. Could be." Then she smiled, embarrassed. "Here I am drinking a beer in front of you, that is awfully rude. Would you allow me to buy you one?" she asked. She seriously doubted he'd accept her offer. A guy like this surely had plans on a Friday night. He'd probably bow out graciously and take his leave never to be seen again.

He seemed embarrassed by her offer and quickly replied, "Someone such as yourself, shouldn't be buying a gentleman a drink; it should have been me that offered you the gesture."

"What century are you from?" she quipped. "Besides, since you are new in town and my burger will be coming any minute, let me buy you a "Welcome to Oljone" beer then you can order the best burger for miles around and join me." Again she thought to herself how stupid that sounded. _Why is it you can always think of the perfect thing to say, twenty minutes after the fact? Sheesh!_

He smiled again and replied, "I would like that very much." His angelic eyes peered into her very soul.

"Kyle, this is Devon Bloomington. He is renting the Bennett's house for the next three months. Could you put in an order for another "Special" and whatever he would like on tap?" she yelled after dragging herself out of the spell his eyes put her under.

"Sure thing, Darby. Welcome to Oljone, Devon. What can I get to quench your thirst this evening?" Kyle yelled back.

"What do you have on tap?" Devon asked.

"Redhook, Anchor Steam, Bass, and Bud," Kyle answered.

"Definitely Redhook," Devon replied.

As the evening progressed, she expected Devon to gallantly give his apologies in order to flee for a more engrossing engagement, but it never happened. The place became more crowded as the night went on, and many beautiful women tried to get his attention, but he never once looked at anyone but Darby.

She learned he was a software engineer and was here contracting for a startup company in Mountain View. He set his own hours and worked mostly from home. _Guess those are the perks when you are really good at what you do_ , Darby thought. Devon was amazingly intelligent and seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. He told her of his childhood in Europe, his travels there and in the states, all the while with his brother in tow. His brother, Blake, was also a software engineer, but he dabbled in a lot of areas—arts, stocks, business, etc.

She relayed how she opened Cauldron, Book, and Candle several years before with book titles varying from wicca practices to aliens and everything in between. She carried old books and new books, but it was always the antique tomes that intrigued her the most. She didn't believe in everything she sold, but that wasn't the point. She had a deep passion for books and learning. She felt by providing books and the knowledge they held within was her tiny contribution to world. People are afraid of what they don't understand and this was her way of informing people about many misconceived topics and beliefs.

The Internet helped a lot. Being a specialized bookstore, she got requests from all over the world and that thrilled her. She accommodated people everywhere with knowledge satisfying their curiosities and comprehending better the things they feared alleviating prejudices.

Preconceived ideas of witches had plagued the O'Rielly family in Oljone for several generations. Having been a descendant from a long ancestry of witches, she and Rowan endured their share of insults and bigotry, so the concept was very personal. Though it didn't happen often, it still cut like a knife when people gave her a wide berth or slandered her family.

The bookstore appeared to open the minds and curb the biased ideas of witches that Oljone had held for so long. When she first opened the bookstore she felt like a leper peddling her disease, but slowly, curiosity overcame the would-be patrons and they began to inquire within.

Devon looked to be riveted by her story and truly inspired by her community acceptance. It wasn't anything that Devon said, but she somehow felt he craved a sense of acceptance or a place to call home; she couldn't tell which. She wondered why someone so gorgeous and gallant wouldn't be accepted with open arms in any community. Maybe he too had a family secret not yet revealed. Aside from the haunting feeling he was hiding something, she had never felt so comfortable and connected with someone who, up until a few hours ago, was a complete and utter stranger.

She didn't want the evening to end, but before she knew it, Kyle shouted "last call." _Where had the time gone?_ A wave of embarrassment flooded over her as she stood. She felt she'd dominated the conversation and wished she could have learned more about him and what seemed to be an interesting life.

* * *

"Well," she said, "I guess I should get going. I've really enjoyed this...you...getting to know you." Darby slipped her hands nervously into the pockets of her cut-offs.

"Me too. Guess Rowan isn't coming," he said with a little chuckle.

"Guess not." She smiled and looked down, noting the chipping nail polish on her toes.

"In that case, may I have the privilege of escorting you home? You really shouldn't be walking around at night alone," he said this with a chivalrous air.

"I only live a few blocks away, as you very well know. What do you think is going to happen to me—a vampire jumping out of the shadows and dragging me to his lair?" she teased, one hand on her hip and eyebrow raised in question.

He went ghostly white. He seemed to be searching for words but could find a response.

"Dear Lord, Devon, I'm joking. Besides, who says vampires are mean. They might be very nice. Maybe they'd stop by for a spot of tea and cakes or borrow a smidgen of wolfsbane," she jested in her best attempt at a British accent.

With that, he relaxed and smiled, making crinkles at the edges of his eyes, spreading to his temples. Her heart melted.

She continued, "And as for escorting me home, I suppose we are going in the same direction anyway, so yes, I accept your offer, dear knight," she said, reverting back to their previous ruse.

He beamed, took her hand in his, protectively setting it in the crook of his arm, and led her towards the door. Over her shoulder she yelled to Kyle, waving, "Good night. Don't forget to tell Jenn I said hi!"

"I will...night, Darby. Devon," Kyle replied.

As they walked out the door, the fresh cool air felt nice on her arms and face. She hadn't realized how stuffy it was in the bar or how warm she had gotten.

"Tell me about Oljone. Does it have any wild history or points of interest?" Devon inquired as they walked.

"Let's see. I just know what I learned in school; the name comes from the Ohlone people that were native here and the town was settled by the Spanish in the 1700s. Oh, and our biggest claim to fame is that the Younger brothers who ran with Jesse James held up here for a small time."

He smiled. "Interesting," Devon said as they rounded the corner onto their street.

Their two houses came into view, and Darby spied Harry claiming Devon's front porch as his own. He lay sleeping on the railing with all four paws, not to mention a little belly, dangling in mid-air over the edges. He didn't look very comfortable but that didn't seem to stop him.

Darby turned to Devon with concern and said, "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"What?" he said, brows crinkled.

"Seems my cat, Harry, has claimed your front porch as his. This means nothing of yours is sacred anymore," she said pointing to the sleeping black and white cat.

Devon looked befuddled, but slightly amused. She continued, "You see, Harry is a cat burglar—literally. He steals things from all over the neighborhood. I've found belts, neckties, handkerchiefs, an earring, a feather boa, cat toys I didn't buy, and the crème de la crème—an old, crusty sock. He leaves these little prizes on the foot of my bed or near his kitty dish. So if you lose something, you might want to come over and check Harry's stash. I keep them all in a basket near the fireplace, so he can gloat and admire them."

Devon laughed. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm very serious. He's been a kleptomaniac from a very young age. The vet says he's a compulsive hoarder—a lost kitty cause," she said with a little giggle.

As Devon continued to laugh, Harry raised his head and opened his bright yellow eyes. He spied Darby and her companion who might be worth a sniff and a few ear rubs. He jumped from the rail with a thunderous _ker-thump_ and ran towards them, rubbing on a tree, a lamppost, and a mailbox post on his way.

He plopped down onto his side about twelve feet in front of them and purred loudly, kneading the grass in anticipation of the scratches to come. Obviously he had grown tired of running to them and felt it was their duty to come the rest of the way to him.

As predicted, Devon and Darby came to him, squatting down to appease the needy feline. As they did, he squeaked out a high-pitched meow. Devon was startled, expecting a much more robust and lower toned meow from such a rotund cat.

"What? Didn't expect such a tiny little voice on such a manly-sized kitty?" Darby said.

Devon chuckled and scratched Harry's chin. Harry seemed to have approve of the new neighbor. Devon attempted to pick up the cat hefting him to his shoulder, groaned and said, "You weren't kidding, he's very..."

Her eyes widened in faux-panic, so he said, "Ummm, he's very, very muscular."

With a sigh of relief, Darby laughed along with Devon. After a few strokes, Devon set the cat down, then turned to Darby.

The awkward moment had arrived. _Why does there always have to be an awkward moment at the end of a date?_ _But, this wasn't a date, really. Just a chance meeting, so there shouldn't be any awkwardness_ , __ she argued with herself _._

He smiled as if hearing her argument. Harry was doing figure eights in and out of Darby's and Devon's legs. He was purring like a motor with intermittent squeaky meows to remind them he was there.

Breaking the silence, Darby said, "Well this is me," pointing to her porch and biting her lip.

He smiled and reached for both of her hands, then pulling them up to his lips, he kissed each one.

"Thank you for this lovely evening. I can't think of when I've had a more pleasant time. Maybe..." He faltered and the words hung on his lips as if unsure if he should continue.

"Maybe we could do it again sometime?" she finished for him.

He smiled with appreciation and replied, "Yes, yes. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?"

"Well, I don't know. I'll have to check my busy schedule," she said teasingly. He appeared horribly disappointed and she realized he had taken her seriously.

She jabbed his shoulder softly. "I'm joking. Of course tomorrow is not too soon." Continuing that thought she said to herself, _I wish this didn't have to end tonight. You goof!_

Instead she said, "How about dinner...here...tomorrow night...about seven o'clock? Nothing fancy—I'm not a very good cook, but we can order pizza. You could bring the beer and I could get a movie, or we could just talk, or whatever?"

She was sure that sounded incredibly lame, but for some reason he looked disappointed. Or was embarrassed. She couldn't tell. He looked at her with his gorgeous brown eyes and said, "I feel rather out of sorts, after all, the honor in having dinner with you would be all mine. Someone as beautiful and intelligent as yourself should have men swooning for your favor, and begging for your attention."

Her mouth dropped in disbelief and she found herself wondering how to respond to such a statement. _Is this guy for real? He's kidding, right?_ she wondered.

"Do you want to come over for dinner or not?" she finally asked.

"Yes, of course I do, I'll be there at seven...with beer," he answered with a smile so big it made his eyes squint.

Relieved by his answer she climbed the porch steps and unlocked the door, responding, "Great. Then it's a date."

_Oops,_ she thought, _I shouldn't have said that. Maybe he doesn't consider it a date; Oh my God, what an imbecile you are, Darby._

He smiled cocking his head at her while taking his own porch steps two at a time and said, "It's a date."

Darby smiled widely in relief as she called Harry to come in for the evening. She made one last glance towards the handsome man next door, to find him smiling, and getting one last glimpse of her. For the second time that day she found herself back against her closed door and sighing with relief, but this time with anticipation.

She locked the door, turned off the lights, picked up Harry, and walked to her bedroom, thinking about the evening she just had, this chance meeting with a neighbor, no less. She lay on the bed with the still purring monster clutched to her chest.

She smiled, thinking of the gentle, timeless man who had just touched her soul like no one ever had _. How could one encounter be so life changing?_ she thought. _This man I met hours ago has got me swooning like a teenager with a horrendous crush. Let's not go crazy, Darby. The man is too perfect. He must have something wrong with him_ , she tried to rationalize.

But as hard as she thought, she couldn't think of one thing he may or may not have that would deter her wanting to wrap her entire world around him.

The purring cat vibrated against her chest. Happy beautiful thoughts of Devon Bloomington meandered through her mind, lulling her into a deep and peaceful sleep.

**Chapter 2**

Darby woke to Harry standing on her chest and meowing his squeaky high-pitched meow. It was hard to breathe with all that male furriness standing on her. She pushed him to one side and he jumped to the ground with a thunderous _ker-thump_. He assumed this act meant she was getting up to feed him. When that didn't happen, he was back on the bed and threatening to get on her chest again.

"Gee whiz, Harry! It's Saturday. Can't I sleep in just a couple of minutes on the weekend?" The incessant meowing told her his answer— _Not in my world, sister_. Seeing she was indeed getting out of bed, he triumphantly jumped down, tail raised high, the tip swishing back and forth, and waited by the door—just in case she changed her mind.

Darby got up slowly and headed for the bathroom. To make sure she didn't forget about him, Harry endorsed his presence with a couple more high-pitched meows and pushed the door open.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she said, "Geez, can't a girl have some privacy?" He meowed in response which she could only construe as a big fat, _No_.

She shook her head with disbelief, washed her hands, and headed to the kitchen to feed the annoying hairy monster.

With Harry happy now, she filled the coffee pot with water at the kitchen sink noting it was overcast outside. Living so close to the coast, it was often foggy in the mornings. This time of year the sun didn't usually make its appearance until noon.

The coffee machine started to gurgle with the first signs of java as she headed for the front door to get the newspaper.

Unlike her sister, she had taken on this morning ritual from her father. The man was adamant about having his coffee and paper before he could cope with the new day.

She opened the door and on the welcome mat was a single lavender rose with a tiny card attached to it with a yellow silk ribbon. She picked up the flower, looking both ways as if the person who left it had just done so and might be lurking in the bushes.

She carefully untied the pretty yellow ribbon, and written in handsome calligraphy was:

_Darby,_

_I look forward to our tryst this evening. Until then, please accept this rose as a token of my adoration._

_Devon_

_A tryst? What the heck is that? Oh man, does that mean it isn't a date—I mean lavender is for friends or sympathy, right? I knew he was too good to be true; he's already sending me sympathy flowers and we haven't even been on a real date. But wait a minute he did call it a date last night, didn't he?_ she thought to herself, mind racing in four hundred directions.

She ran into the house, focused on finding a dictionary when she realized she had totally forgotten to get the paper. _I've gone completely daffy over receiving a flower. How goofy can you get?_ She shook her head in disbelief and went back to the door and opened it.

She looked both ways in hopes that no one had seen her flip her lid seconds earlier. She ran down the stairs, grabbed the paper, and ran back in the house, still looking over her shoulder for the lurking phantom delivery gnomes—these were like garden gnomes, but sneakier.

Safe inside the house, she dropped the paper on the couch along with the eloquent note and set off searching the bookcase for the dictionary. _Finally! There you are_ , she said to herself grabbing the huge book and tossing it on the couch. She shuffled to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and saw Harry cleaning his face and looking quite satisfied.

Back in the living room, clad in bunny slippers, she sat down, setting her cup on the coffee table and looked at the fancy swirls of calligraphy on the card again. She set it next to her mug, as if it were a piece of fragile glass that might chip if she was too rough.

She hefted the heavy dictionary from the cushion and started to hunt down the T's. _TE, TO, TR, Tryst, ah, here it is. Part of Speech: Noun. Definition: (here we go) Meeting during a love affair. Synonyms: appointment, date, assignation, engagement, meet, meeting, rendezvous, union. Wait... Go back. Definition: Meeting during a love affair. Oh my God, that's got to be the most romantic thing I've ever seen,_ she thought _. Hmm, since I was wrong about "tryst," let's look up flower color meaning on the computer._

She grabbed her laptop sitting on the coffee table and googled the words: lavender rose meaning. There it was in black and white— _Lavender roses: means love at first sight._ The onset of yet another swoon came over her. _Dear Lord, this man gets better and better with every passing second._

She sipped her coffee and melted into the cushions of the couch and sighed in pure delight. She never touched the paper this special Saturday morning.

The rest of the day was a blur of cleaning the house, fluffing pillows, adoring the sweet note, which was now on the fridge attached with a Scooby-Doo magnet. The tiny yellow silk ribbon was lovingly tied back onto the card. The rose was put in her grandmother's heirloom bud vase and set on the coffee table for all to see.

Then it was off to the store for toilet paper, napkins, kitty food, kitty litter, sodas, and munchies.

There was a quick stop at the bookstore to see how things were going and check for any messages. A voice mail from Rowan awaited, of course, apologizing profusely about not showing up the night before and going on about an amazing guy she met. _Oh boy_! Darby thought.

Next stop, the video store to rent whatever the hot new release of the week was. Finally, with all of her running around done, she headed to the house. She noticed in her new neighbor's driveway sat a sweet brand new Audi R8, black, sleek and sexy— _cha-ching—but dang, if it wasn't a beautiful beast,_ she thought. She turned to her little car—a 2001 electric blue Honda Prelude. _Okay, so there is no comparison but it was the last year Honda made Preludes_ , she thought proudly.

She popped the trunk to get the groceries and remembered the day when she came home with the car. She was beaming when her dad inspected it, kicking the tires and looking under the hood. "It's kind of...purple," he said.

Insulted, she retorted, "No, Dad, it's electric blue."

His eyebrows cocked. "Hmmm, why did you get a stick shift?"

"I don't know, Dad! I guess I just like having something to do with my feet and my right hand while I'm driving," she said, defensively annoyed.

Nodding, he said, "It's nice." That was the seal of approval. He was an engineer and never got too excited about anything. "It's nice," was the best she was getting from him. Though he never said it out loud, her mother told her that he was as thrilled as any dad could be. He'd gone to work, bragging to all the other guys how his little girl bought her very own "brand new sports car" without any help from him.

With that thought in her mind and a smile on her face, she grabbed the bags and went inside. She put all the shopping items away and changed the kitty box. She headed for the bedroom to go over what to wear for the "tryst." Harry was sprawled out sleeping on his back, belly exposed, head on the pillow and snoring loudly. She looked at the clock—it was only 4:05 p.m.—what was she going to do for the next three hours? She lay on the bed next to Harry and rubbed his belly.

The doorbell rang, waking her. She must have fallen asleep. Harry jumped off the bed, disgruntled by the disturbance, and Darby ran for the front door. She stopped halfway, rubbing her eyes and horror struck, _Oh God, I bet I have bed head._ She raked both hands through her hair in an attempt to comb any crazy looking strays into obedience. The doorbell rang again. _I'm coming, I'm coming,_ she thought.

She opened the door to find a nervous Devon. She was confused by his early arrival but said, "Hi, I'm sorry I fell asleep. You're a little bit early but if you want to come in..."

He interrupted her, "I'm so sorry, Darby. I'm going to have to cancel our date."

"Oh? Okay. Is everything all right?"

"There's been an emergency. A friend of ours needs our help and I hate to do this to you, but we need to leave right away. Can I take a rain check on that date?"

"No problem—another time then," she said trying not to sound too disappointed. A hundred reasons why he was really canceling ran through her head. After all, his excuse didn't sound convincing. _Was he lying? If he is, he doesn't do it very well. He looks uncomfortable and tortured._ Then again, they had one evening together; it's not like they were joined at the hip, for goodness sake.

"We'll reschedule when I get back," he said, apology rolling from his eyes.

"I hope everything works out with your friend," Darby added.

"My what? Oh right, our friend. Yes. I'm sure everything will be fine. Blake and I will just be gone a few days. Again, Darby, I'm really sorry. I hope you didn't go to any great trouble."

"Me? Phhhht! Naw! No big deal. Don't worry about me. Harry will keep me company," she chuckled just as Harry sprinted out the front door and into a bush across the street. _Great! Make me look bad why don't you_ , she thought. "Okay, so I guess I'll see you around; have a safe trip."

"Goodnight, Darby," Devon said and was gone. She shut the door and sat on the couch. _Saturday night alone, not even the cat wants to hang out with me. At least I've got a movie to watch._

Ten minutes after their goodbye, she heard the sexy car leave the driveway next door. _Wow, he wasn't kidding. Hope he's not running away as fast as he can from me._ With that she took some Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia from the freezer, grabbed a spoon and the movie, and went to her room.

* * *

Over the next seven days, a flurry of gifts from Devon arrived. Some were lavish, some were just cute, but all were bought and sent with a great deal of thought. Darby's favorite was a burglar outfit for Harry, equipped with a black Zorro mask with cutouts for ears. Darby and Allison had laughed so hard when she had pulled it from the box tears ran down their faces and they got next to no work done the rest of the day giggling about the clever gift. Allison, had a lot of fun teasing Darby about the attention she received from this mysterious new neighbor and every day they looked forward to a new package arrival from Devon.

Allison Dover had freckles and beautiful, curly, red hair to the middle of her back. She was one of those people you never saw mad. She always seemed to be smiling. Allison had become Darby's 'right-hand gal' in business, so to speak. She had helped her make the bookstore a success and they weren't just employee/employer; they were good friends. It had been at Allison's encouragement after hearing Darby's story of how she had found the families Book of Shadows that brought the bookstore into fruition.

When Darby and Rowan were little girls playing in the basement, they found an old trunk of Great Grandma Lorelai's. In it they found an old, leather bound, black book. A carefully hand-carved Celtic symbol of never-ending intertwined bands adorned it. Inside the book, they found their heritage. Her entire family had contributed to it, each in their different handwritings adding their own information and personal contributions through the centuries. All this was packaged meticulously and beautifully bound in this handcrafted book.

Their family had always been accused of being witches, but until finding the family Book of Shadows, the girls had never seen any proof. The book fascinated them with its old, crumbly pages filled with spells, charms, and potions. There were lists of herbs with calligraphic descriptions of their medicinal properties. There were other pages that listed stones and crystals and their different properties and healing powers.

The final gift from Devon was a formal invitation, which was delivered to the bookstore by overnight FedEx. It said:

_The pleasure of your presence is requested_

_by Mr. Devon Bloomington for dinner_

_this evening at 7:00 PM at his residence._

She was excited he was coming back, but had to admit she felt a bit apprehensive about the date. She thought it had been so obvious he had lied about why he left, she worried about how that would play out.

"So what did you get from the mystery man today?" Allison pressed Darby, referring to the overnight letter.

"An invitation to dinner." Darby handed the attractive invitation to Allison.

"Are you excited?"

"Yah! Nervous, excited, and about a hundred other things."

"I know. First dates are like that. Why don't you do something _witchy_ and see into the future? That way you will know what to expect and won't be nervous."

"Just because I'm from a family of witches doesn't mean I'm a practicing one. I wouldn't even know how where to start. Well, that's not exactly true, I have made a few charms and potions with the help of the Book of Shadows—you know for relieving colds and getting sleep, but I'm afraid that's the extent of my _witchiness_. Rowan has taken a more active role in magic than I have."

"If it were me I'd be trying all kinds of things and probably blowing up my kitchen," Allison admitted.

"So far the only natural talent I seem to possess is a head for business." Darby laughed and so did Allison.

"Maybe you've never been in the right situation for your gifts to present themselves."

"Could be, but I don't think I will hold my breath for bolts of magic to burst from within. Besides, do you really want to be working for a practicing witch? I mean, if you don't come in on time, I could hex or curse you with chicken pox or athlete's foot," Darby teased.

"Yah. That could be a problem." Allison laughed so hard, Darby was sure she saw tears.

The rest of the day was like all days when there were anticipated plans in the evening—it dragged at a snail's pace. Darby swore she watched every hour on the clock go by. It was like the last day of the school year, waiting for the bell to ring so summer vacation could finally begin.

When the end of the day finally arrived, she closed the store in record time and raced home to shower and change. She was feeling a bit nervous, so she decided to have a beer to relax her nerves. Besides, she had two growlers in the ice chest that was one of Devon's recent gifts. _Wouldn't want those to go to waste,_ she thought.

Not knowing what attire would be appropriate, she went with a sundress. It was at the guy's house—how fancy could it be? She fed Harry in his new, more accommodating bowl and took a last swig of beer when the doorbell rang. She looked at the clock and saw it was two minutes to seven. _Wow. Never met a guy that was prompt and gorgeous._

She opened front door to find Devon holding a bouquet of dark purple delphiniums and sunflowers. _How did he know those were my favorite flowers?_ she wondered.

He was dressed in dark denim jeans and a white linen shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair was pulled back in a small ponytail, which kept it mostly out of his face. Several loose curls protested their confinement and seemed to be tickling the corners of his mouth as he handed the flowers to Darby.

"Thank you. They're beautiful. Come in. Let me put these in water before we head over," she said turning to the hallway to the back of the house and out of sight. In the kitchen she quickly found a vase and filled it with water, yelling to Devon in the other room, "Is there anything I should bring? I mean, we have a ton of beer here." She laughed.

He chuckled. "No, I think I have everything we need, but I promise we won't let the beer I sent go to waste." She headed toward him with the flowers soaking in a large blue, glass vase. She set them on the round coffee table in the living room, adjusting a few of the stems.

"May I say you look lovely, Darby," he said.

"Thank you. You're sweet. And thank you for all the amazing gifts—you really shouldn't have gone to so much expense and trouble."

"Oh, but I had to. I disappointed you and I still feel horrible about that," he argued.

"Don't be silly. I mean, I looked forward to our time together, but you didn't disappoint me. After all, you don't have any obligation to me."

"But I do. At least I'd like to." He smiled and held his hand out for hers and continued. "Shall we?"

"Sure." She grabbed a light sweater lying on the back of the couch and he led her to the door, opening it for her.

"Should I lock it?" he asked.

"No. It's fine. Pretty safe neighborhood and besides, we're just next door. If someone starts taking large items out of the house, I think we will notice," she responded.

Smiling, he closed the door behind them. They were walking down the steps of the porch when they heard squealing tires nearby that made them both turn their heads.

Devon turned back to her and smiled, continuing to lead her to the sidewalk, then they heard squealing tires turning onto their street. It was his beautiful, sexy, black car that had been in his driveway before they left on their trip. The speedster sped toward them and turned onto the driveway. She wasn't sure how the incredibly tall, sinewy man opened the door and got out of the car so fast. The next thing she knew he was in front of them, keys in hand, and looking directly at Devon. He seemed about to speak when Devon introduced him to Darby.

"Darby, this is my brother, Blake, a.k.a. 'speed racer,'" Devon said with a hint of disapproval. "Blake, this is Darby, my date for the evening and our neighbor."

"Nice to meet you, Darby. I'm sorry to interrupt, but..." Blake said.

"We agreed I had the house tonight," Devon interrupted, smiling uncomfortably, and then looking again at Darby.

"I know, I know, but something has come up," Blake said. As if talking in some kind of brother code, he continued, "There's a problem. Here in town...now..."

While the brothers bickered back and forth about nothing that made much sense to Darby, she noticed a man had appeared across the street. She blinked a couple of times to see if her eyes were playing tricks on her. The man was huge. He looked like a bodybuilder pumped up on steroids and full of protein shakes. He wore black jeans, no shirt _,_ a long, black leather duster and a broad-brimmed black fedora. He must have been dying in this heat, but he gave the impression of being too proud of his get up to care.

_He must be going to some costume party. Why else would anyone dress like that in summer?_ Darby thought to herself.

He looked like a Van Helsing wannabe, though seriously lacking any resemblance to Hugh Jackman. More oddly than his attire was the way he glared at the three of them.

Quickly and fluidly, he flipped back the right side of his coat, revealing what appeared to be a loaded crossbow. He aimed it at them. _He's joking, right? He must be. I mean he must know he looks ridiculous so he is playing it up with the toy weapon. Right?_

Devon stood between her and the crossbow. He and Blake had their sides to the Van Helsing guy, but Blake was angled a bit more toward him and the guy across the street caught his eye.

After that everything seemed to slow, like some kind of crazy fight scene from the Matrix. Blake pounced toward the guy in a blur of speed and ferocity that could only be described as inhuman.

At impact, there was a god awful snap Darby assumed were bones. As Blake sent the man flying through the air, the shooter released an arrow toward Darby.

Smashing over a parked car, he landed with a thud on the ground. Darby, frozen in place, watched as the deadly weapon aimed directly at her face. _Oh sh—_.

In one fluid movement, Devon whirled toward her and stepped into the projectile's path, taking a 'thrump' in his chest below his right collarbone. His limp body flew back into Darby's arms. _How did he know about the arrow when he wasn't looking her way?_

She tried to hold him but his weight was too much and he collapsed at her feet. Darby stared at Devon's beautifully chiseled face as he fell to the ground. A wave of emotions engulfed her.

A warmth spread over her, seeming to envelop her and Devon, connecting them. She thought for a moment, she glanced upon his soul. She felt his pain and anguish at putting her in danger consume her. _How was this possible?_ she thought. If not for a sheer gossamer curtain blocking her entry, she might have seen his mind. A flood of memories, feelings and his physical discomfort struck her like a tidal wave, too overwhelming for her to decipher details.

She had once experienced something similar when Rowan had fallen out of a tree in the Duarte's orchard when they were little.

She heard Rowan calling her. She felt Rowan's pain and fear. It sent Darby running to her exact location and rescue. That had been so many years ago, she had almost forgotten.

Did Devon feel it too? She wasn't sure, but she noticed despite all the chaos and the arrow in his chest, he was suddenly calm, a slight upturn of the corner of his lips. A grimace stole his peace and he passed out.

Blake sprinted to Devon. Over his shoulder, Darby saw the man with the crossbow stand and reloaded. Blake didn't notice the man targeting his back—he only saw his downed brother and the frail blonde crying over him.

Tears rolled down her cheek as she felt another sharp twinge of Devon's pain. Devon was dying at her feet, and Blake would be the next victim. Panic struck Darby. Deep inside her, a bubble of energy exploded and she found herself blinded by an unseen white blaze.

Terror and surprise shown on the man's face, when he too saw the flash of light radiating from Darby's outstretched hand. Power surged from her, aimed at him with hurricane strength. The force threw him thirty feet against a tree. She heard what sounded like a splitting melon and knew instantly he had not survived the impact.

* * *

Blake turned in time to see the man hit the tree. He stared at the attacker then Darby in disbelief. Darby was shaking and looked about ready to fall or throw up. Blake was instantly at her side and helped her down to a sitting position near Devon. He looked at his brother, then at the attacker, and back to the shaking woman and marveled. _What happened? How did it happen?_

As if someone flipped a switch within her, Darby stopped shaking and looked at Blake, wiping her blue eyes of tears. She threw a large handful of blond waist length hair over one shoulder and said, "Help me get him to the car. We've got to get him to the hospital."

"No...we can't do that. He can't go to the hospital," Blake said frantically.

"You're kidding, right? Why not? He's bleeding and has an arrow in his chest. We've got to do something!" Darby said.

"I know that seems like the logical place to take him, but we just can't. Please, trust me. If we can get the arrow out and clean him up, he will be all right," Blake argued.

"Right now the arrow is acting as a plug; if we take it out, he's going to bleed. He's going to need stitches and he should be checked to see if any organs were hit," Darby said.

"Please, you need to trust me. I can't tell you why, but if you want to save him, you have to listen to me. Please!"

Darby didn't understand why Blake would be so adamant about not going to the hospital. Her mind flashed different scenarios looking for a plausible explanation for this refusal when it dawned on her that often fugitives of the law avoided hospitals because explanation of the wounds would have to be explored and reported.

"Oh, no...are you two on the lamb? Was that a bounty hunter?"

"Something like that. If you feel anything for my brother, just please let it go. I can't explain right now," Blake pleaded.

"I don't agree, and I don't like it. Help me get him inside; then you take care of the other guy and I'll take care of your brother, but you owe me an explanation as to what in the world just happened." _What have I gotten into?_ she thought.

Blake looked at her, dumbfounded. "I was hoping you'd explain it to me."

She rolled her eyes at him in annoyance. "Get him under the arms and I will get his feet."

Blake listened to his instructor and obeyed. Darby struggled with the weight of Devon's legs, but she was determined.

"We are going in my house. The door's unlocked. Go straight down the hall and to the right. Lay him on the bed."

Once they got Devon onto the bed, she said, "Get him on his side. We are going to pull the arrow all the way through."

Blake looked puzzled. She continued as if answering his question, "We have to. Didn't you ever watch cowboy and Indian movies? If we pull it out the front, the hilt of the tip will do more damage, so we need to pull it all the way through as if it shot completely through him."

He still looked unsure and it was apparent he didn't want to inflict any more pain on his brother than he had to.

"Would you just get over here, you big sissy, and help me?

The arrow has not hit anything major or we'd know by now. Does he have any allergies or medical issues I should know about?" she asked.

"You mean, aside from the arrow?" he said with a smirk on his face.

"Well now, aren't you a kick in the pants? Seriously, we're losing time and he's losing blood. Is there anything I should know?" she said again.

Blake looked completely blank. Apparently when under pressure he wasn't a very good liar, but more the comic relief.

"Yes, we are both allergic to wood," he said, but he would not look her in the eyes. Blake ripped off Devon's shirt being careful around the arrow. He put the remnants of the shirt under Devon to protect the bedding from being bloodied.

"Wood? In general? Not a specific wood?"

"Pretty much all wood to some degree, some more, some less. However, I think this arrow is either Yew or dipped in a mixture of ground Yew seeds. Did you see how fast he dropped? It's got to be Yew; nothing else would have done that to him. Yew is quite poisonous to both of us," he said.

_How bizarre_ , she thought _. Of course he'd drop, he was hit in the chest with an arrow not a balloon._

Darby climbed on top of Devon straddling his torso keeping him pinned between her thighs on his side.

Blake eyed her uncertainty, but he was up for anything that helped Devon.

"Okay—wood—especially Yew wood. In the garage, there's a workbench with big leather gloves hanging from a nail. Grab those and some pruners."

He was gone in a flash and back in a minute. She nodded. "Perfect. Take the pruners and snip the arrow shank as close to his chest as you can."

Blake put on a leather glove to hold the shaft steady while he carefully clipped the wood.

"Do you think you can get a good grip on the tip of the arrow?."

"Yes," Blake replied.

"Okay. Put the other glove on. We don't want you going into anaphylactic shock from the wood. Have you got a hold of the arrow?" she asked Blake. He nodded.

With her hand on the shaft in front Darby said, "Good. Pull the arrow as straight as you can—on three." She knew this was going to hurt Devon, but she hoped he would understand this was the only way she knew to help him.

She looked at Blake. "Okay, deep breath." They both inhaled then exhaled. "One, two, three!"

Blake pulled the arrow out with next to no effort, like a toothpick out of a piece of fruit—fluid and quick.

Devon's eyes flew open, he howled with pain and passed out once more.

"It's okay, Blake. I can take care of him from here. Go do what needs to be done with the Van Helsing guy."

"Who?" Again he looked puzzled.

She was starting to wonder if this was just a normal look for him. "Van Helsing guy—The Crossbow Guy across the street. Come on, you saw him. Black hat, black leather duster, crossbow, classic Van Helsing look." She rolled her eyes at having to explain.

He nodded in acknowledgement and started to leave the bedroom when she asked, "Oh, and can you bring back a change of clothes for your brother?"

He gave her a sly and devilish look, which she refused to acknowledge. Apparently, Blake knew what to do, because he shot out like a bullet, shutting the front door behind him.

Gathering necessities of gauze, water, towels and the first aid kit, she dumped the load on the chair near the bed to do what she could to patch up the wound.

She had just seen some survivor show where one of the contestants had been stitched up with a sewing needle and dental floss. Right about now Darby wished she had paid closer attention to the procedure.

Darby had always been pretty cool headed during a crisis, but as she worked diligently on Devon, a stream of emotions filled her mind. She barely knew this guy or his brother for that matter. What was she doing? Would she regret knowing them? Were the brothers running from the law? _God I hope not. I really like him._

She stopped working on him for a moment taking in all of him. Man, was he handsome, but was he safe? She poured hot water into a bowl and soaked a washcloth to clean the area around the wound on his chest. The more she cleaned, the smaller the wound seemed to get. _Impossible_ , she thought. _How can that be_? At this point she didn't think stitches were necessary. _I thought for sure I'd have to do some stitching,_ she said to herself _._

She poured hydrogen peroxide onto the wound, checked for wood splinters and other debris caught in the wound. Satisfied it was clean, she covered it with a gauze patch and taped it into place.

While she worked she thought about the hunter with the crossbow. _I can't believe I stood there saying nothing as he shot Devon. Who would have thought any of that was real? And how in the world did Blake throw that guy over the car? I guess it could have been adrenaline. I've heard of mothers lifting cars off of their children with bursts of strength. I guess that could be the case._

Next, she rolled Devon to his side, taking the makeshift compress from beneath him along with his ripped shirt and proceeded to clean the wound as she had the front. Here, too, the wound seemed smaller than when she put the compress under him. She cleaned and bandaged it _._ She thought, _the bleeding has nearly stopped_. _Lucky guy—no stitches after a incident like this? Amazing._

Rolling him onto his back, trying not to touch his wound, she removed his shoes, covered him with a quilt and turned out the light on the bedside table. After grabbing all the medical remnants, she deposited them in their appropriate places and made herself a cup of tea to calm her nerves.

With the family Book of Shadows and her tea in hand she returned to the bedroom and fluffed and propped up pillows to read in bed. Once settled she took a sip of tea. Checking her patient, she lightly brushed stray hairs off his face while she applied the clean, cool washcloth to his forehead.

Harry jumped onto the bed, giving Darby a scare, thinking he would do his usual 'I want to be fed' chest dance on the injured Devon, but he seemed to know the seriousness of the situation and snuggled against Devon's body as if to offer him his warmth.

After retrieving a small wood chest from the nightstand, she thumbed through the ancient tome for some kind of relief for Devon's pain.

She found a page with a list of stones and their healing capabilities. "Combine the stones with specific herbs in a small velvet pouch and the patient should heal rapidly."

_Perfect._ She opened the wooden chest and retrieved a velvet pouch, stones, and herbs needed to make the charm. After blessing the already cleansed and charged stones, she arranged them in the pouch along with the herbs and tucked the pouch in Devon's front pocket. "There," she said in a whisper, "that should help you rest and heal."

As she sat, sipping her tea and skimming the words of the book in hand but not retaining much of its content, she realized she was more intensely aware of his every breath and movement. When he was restless, she calmed him with the cool washcloth and by running her fingers over his forehead into his hair, like a mother to comfort a sick child.

Several hours had passed when Blake came in the back door.

Darby was a bit jumpy and just about conked him on the head with the teakettle, but thankfully she recognized his tall silhouette before whacking him.

"Remind me never to break in here at night," he said as she lowered the teakettle.

"I don't think that's something I should ever have to remind you," she said matter-of-factly. He chuckled.

"How's he doing?"

"Too soon to say. The good news is I didn't have to give him any stitches. I wasn't sure I was up for that. The holes ended up being smaller than I expected." She didn't bother to mention the wounds seemed to be miraculously get smaller. He'd think she was loony.

She continued, "No stitches means less chance of infection. But I don't know for sure that nothing else was hit, so I guess we wait and see if he gets a fever. Then we worry. He seems to be resting peacefully right now. He was pretty restless at first, but I suppose that's to be expected. It's not every day a Van Helsing guy shoots you with a crossbow. Speaking of him, now might be a good time to tell me what is going on."

Blake froze and turned a little pale. He looked more like a little boy than a six-foot four-inch man—innocent, scared, and not knowing what to do without his big brother to advise him. Like his brother, he had gorgeous brown eyes, but not exactly the same color, more milk chocolate brown with amber flecks. They were bright and had a wildness to them that his brother's did not—which was perfectly okay with her.

"So out with it," she demanded.

**Chapter 3**

Blake tossed a lock of his brown hair from his eyes as he thought on her demand.

"Hmm, this is not going to be easy," Blake said forcing a smile and scratching his head. His smile, she was sure, broke quite a few hearts. It was precious, comforting, and contagious. His whole face smiled, like nothing he would say could possibly be untrue. _Uh huh_ , she thought. He shared this smile with his brother and between the two of them, they must leave quite a wake of women behind.

"The thing is, there is a huge part of the story I think should come from Devon. It should be his choice or burden to give the details about us. But I will try to answer your questions to the best of my ability."

She raised her eyebrows as if agreeing, but doubting it would go well. "All right. Who is the Van Helsing guy?"

"His name is Max Porter. He's a hunter."

"Uh huh. A hunter—that's vague. A deer hunter? A lion hunter? What?"

"A hunter of a specific kind of person."

"A person hunter? Yuck!" she said thinking she was definitely NOT going to like this. A thought occurred to her and she continued, "You mean like an assassin? A terrorist with a crossbow?"

He rolled his eyes and grimaced. "Somewhat like an assassin, but for a very, very specific kind of person."

"This is getting annoying. You mean like a, I don't know, a bounty hunter or a vampire slayer?" she laughed thinking how ridiculous that sounded.

He stoically answered, "Yes, very much like that."

"I see. So this Max was hunting your brother?"

"And me," he said.

"So this Max guy, he's a software engineer slayer?" she jested.

"Well, not exactly, but let's go with that for the sake of time."

"Good. Max, the Van Helsing wannabe, is a software engineer slayer and came looking to kill you and your brother, because...your software stinks?"

He laughed. "Sure, okay. I'll go with that."

"Are there more of these software engineer slayers out there?"

"Yes. Not a lot, but some."

"And their plan is to take out all software engineers, everywhere?"

He tried conceal a laugh by running a hand across his lips, and said, "Yep."

"So is there a hierarchy of these software engineer slayers, or was Max just a rogue?"

"Umm...I don't know if there is a grand pooba of slayers, but Max was sent by someone above him. His name is Terrence Paine. Max was one of his thugs."

She shook her head. "Okay, now we are getting somewhere. How many thugs does Pooba Paine employ?"

"Including Max, there are three we know of. The other two are Olaf Obert and Norman Beoff."

"All right. If Max doesn't check in, then Pooba Paine will send Norman and/or Olaf to find out what happened, right?"

"Probably."

"If that is the case, how much time do you think we have before the others come looking?"

"Well, my guess is that Max was a scout, and may or may not have told them specifically where he was. If that is the case, then I would estimate a week, maybe two at the most."

"Your brother won't be healed by then." She pursed her lips and thought a minute.

"My sister and I have a cabin about two hours from here. Our parents left it to us. We haven't been up there since we were kids, but maybe I could take Devon up there and you could stay here. That way you could be on the lookout for any more software engineer slayers that come knocking next door. That may give us a little more time. Of course, I'd have to contact my sister so she doesn't freak out if she comes home and finds some guy has taken over the house. Although I don't think she would mind meeting you." She smiled. "What do you think?"

"I think it is a better plan than Devon and I have, since we have no plan and Devon is unconscious."

"True, he can amend it if he wants when he is better, but for now it will give us some time to figure out what to do. So what is this beef Pooba Paine has against you and your brother—I mean aside from your stinky software?"

His face lit up with a huge smile again—Darby thought it was nice to see him relaxing a bit. "Umm...not exactly sure, but it had something to do with our father. Terrence Paine and his entourage were responsible for the deaths of our parents."

"Do you have any family that might be able to tell us specifically what went on?"

"None that I know of; maybe Devon knows someone."

"What about any family records or paperwork, or diaries that might have recorded something?"

"I couldn't say for sure. Devon took care of all the family belongings when our parents were killed, but we have a storage locker of stuff we thought we should save. Family heirlooms, things like that."

"Good, good...that would be a great start. Where does Pooba Paine reside? Or reign?"

Blake laughed again. "I believe he resides in Maine, but I'm not absolutely sure."

"So the fact that you are not sure of quite a few Pooba Paine details, I take it Devon is responsible for most of this stuff?" His face hardened and turned stone cold. She knew she had offended him.

She continued, "Don't get me wrong, Blake. It's the same with me and my sister. She is the free spirit and I am the grounded one, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Sure, we sometimes fight about it, but it's who we are. She's like our mom and I'm more like Dad. She helps me to be more spontaneous and live a little, whereas I try to help her see the benefits of what a wee bit more responsibility could do to enhance her life. You know...we're symbiotic."

He smiled and nodded. "Yes, I would say that our relationships could be viewed as very similar. Too bad, if I hadn't just met this amazing girl, I would be very anxious to meet your sister."

"You will, I'm sure. It's funny though, when I checked my messages today, she said she met a special guy. What a coincidence. Fate throwing her a special curve ball, I suppose." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Well, that's a lot of information to process for one day given the earlier excitement. I will call it a night and hit the couch. I think you should grab some things from home and sleep in my sister's room. It's messy, but clean."

"I couldn't do that. Terrence is not going to be sending anyone tonight and besides, what if your sister comes home?"

"Hon, it's 11:30, if she's not home now she won't be coming home; besides, I told you—new guy."

"Oh yeah, right."

"You don't know for sure that Max didn't come here with the other slayer. Plus, since I am filling in for your grounded brother, I know he wouldn't want you to take that chance. Just sleep here; I'll feel better, I know your brother would feel better, and no harm done. Please."

"Okay, but only because you insist. Damn! Is it really 11:30? I was supposed to meet my girl an hour ago."

"I'm sure with those eyes and that smile, she'll forgive you. Call her and tell her something came up. That way, you didn't bail on her."

"Yah, I will. Hey, thanks for everything, the advice, the plan, my brother, and, oh yeah, Max. By the way, we still haven't discussed what or how you did what you did."

"I'm trying to block that out of my memory. I don't have a clue how or what happened. I just felt all these emotions seeing your brother on the ground. Then when I saw him aiming at you too. I just wanted it all to stop and then Pow! I was blinded by a bright white light and the next thing I knew Van Hels... I mean, Max, went flying. I didn't mean to kill him—you know that right? Hitting the tree like that; it was an accident. I just wanted Devon and you to be out of danger."

"Remind me to never make you angry," he teased.

"Very funny. Go get some clothes, go to bed, oh and don't forget to call your girlfriend," she said, pointing to Rowan's room.

"Okay, okay! I'll call her as I'm grabbing stuff and I'll be right back. I have to admit though, I think my brother would be very upset if he felt he kept you from sleeping in your own bed. You two are adults, I'm sure you can control yourself," he smirked. "I'll bet you will sleep much better in your own bed than on the couch."

"I can control myself, thank you very much. As for your brother, well, he's passed out, but even so, he is too much of a gentleman to be anything but embarrassed by the situation."

"You might be surprised. He's a gentleman, yes, but he is a guy and you are, well, gorgeous."

She blushed deeply and smiled. "Thank you, but I'm not. Now, go." She continued to smile as she went back to the bedroom, slightly tickled by the compliment.

She set the change of clothes Blake had brought for Devon on the chair. She grabbed a pair of flannel shorts out of the dresser drawer and went into the bathroom to attend to her nightly rituals.

After she finished up in the bathroom and turned out the light, she tiptoed to the bed. She checked her patient, and gave him a new, cool rag for his head. No temperature yet, but it was still too early to tell. She'd check his bandages in the morning. In the meantime, Harry was taking up the whole rest of the bed. He was on his back as if mimicking Devon. Harry's head was turned in what looked like a very uncomfortable position. He had one fuzzy arm over his eyes as if a fainting damsel with fur. She laughed and pushed him over so she could have some of the bed and Harry slept between them. She wasn't sure if her head even hit the pillow before she fell asleep.

**Chapter 4**

A woman's scream woke Darby. She looked at the clock and it was 1:18 a.m. The scream didn't affect Harry or Devon in the least. In fact, now that she was awake, she wasn't sure the scream hadn't been a dream, but considering all that's happened, she couldn't be too careful.

She grabbed the baseball bat she kept by the bedroom door and headed down the hall towards the living room. A wedge of light shown under Rowan's bedroom door, which meant Blake must still be up. But when she thought she heard muffled giggling, she tiptoed towards the door to investigate.

She walked very gingerly with the bat in her hand trying not to let the floorboards squeak and ready for anything. She knocked quietly on the door as not to startle Blake. When Rowan pushed the door open, a smiling Blake was attached to her waist.

"Hey, Darby, what's up!" Rowan said casually as if nothing was out of sorts.

"What's up? You scream at 1:15 in the morning and you ask ME what's up?" Darby whispered loudly.

"Sorry, but I found this lovely present in my bedroom." Rowan pointed Blake's direction to which he quickly nibbled at her neck making her squeal. "You're so sweet to me, big sister. Thank you, he's lovely—just what I always wanted," she said as she planted a huge kiss on his lips. He happily reciprocated.

"I see you two have met," Darby whispered.

"Oh, we met a couple weeks ago at the convenience store. He and his brother are renting the Bennett's place. This is the guy I was telling you about," Rowan said.

"And this is the girl I told you I had to call tonight," Blake added.

"So you two...and tonight...Blake...how interesting," Darby whispered, working out the logistics as she spoke.

"Pretty much. Why are we whispering?" Rowan asked Darby then turned to Blake asking, "Why is she whispering and holding a bat?"

Blake raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, but the smile on his face proved he was enjoying the conversation.

"All I can tell you is she had a teakettle earlier and now it's a bat." He tried to cover his laugh with his hand.

Rowan smiled with intrigue. "Is there someone else here?" she whispered. Blake, unable to control his laughter any longer, helplessly looked to Darby.

"Yes, there is! In my bed! His brother!"

Rowan raised her eyebrows at such an unlikely scenario for her sister. Darby continued defending her actions. "He got shot with a crossbow." When both Rowan and Blake laughed uncontrollably at her discomfort, she waved her hand in front of her, suggesting she had enough of their teasing. The more she spoke, the more they laughed and made her more embarrassed. She shook her head. "I'm going to bed." Juvenile _oooh's_ and kissing sounds were heard from Blake and Rowan as she walked back to her bedroom. She retorted, "And keep it down in there, some people are trying to sleep."

But even as she rounded the corner to the hall, she quietly laughed to herself as she heard the two of them reciting:

Darby and Devon

Kissing in a tree

K—I—S—S—I—N—G

She couldn't help but smile. She had to admit, Rowan and Blake were perfect for one another.

In the bedroom, she had to move Harry who had spread out into her warm abandoned spot during her absence. She crawled under the covers with a smile on her face, still listening to the giggles from the front bedroom, and closed her eyes.

* * *

Darby woke with Harry standing on her chest like he did every morning. His high-pitched meowing was especially annoying. She was too tired for his shenanigans after being awakened by the two goofs in the front bedroom and worrying about Devon.

She rolled him off and onto the floor, then realized someone was in the kitchen AND she smelled coffee, something she never smelled unless she made it herself. Not only that, but whoever was in the kitchen was humming some unrecognizable tune. She looked at the other side of the bed and a flush of memories of Devon and what had happened came back to her.

She sat straight up realizing Devon was not in bed. _Oh my God, where is he_? In a panic she flew down the hall. As she soared past the kitchen she saw the humming man in the kitchen was Devon and made a U-turn. Devon was cooking—making pancakes to be exact, and not only did he look fine, but he looked fabulous. She ran over to him, absolutely thrilled to see him alive, thriving and gorgeous. She hugged him like she hadn't seen him in years and her eyes welled up with tears.

"Oh my God, you're okay. I was so worried. You are okay? Aren't you?" She stopped speaking and hugged him again.

"I'm fine. Seems my lovely date from last night, nursed me back to health," he said with a sweet smile of appreciation.

Taking in his sweet statement, she wondered how he could be so perky after such an injury. His hair was wet and he smelled of the familiar bath soap she kept in her shower. He'd taken a shower. "Oh my God, you took a shower?"

His smile morphed to surprised confusion as one eyebrow lifted. "Was I not supposed to?"

"Of course, I mean, no, I mean your wounds, they're too deep—you could get a really bad infection. Take your shirt off, let me see," she demanded.

A devilishly amused expression came over him, as he said, "But can it wait? I'm making pancakes."

"That's very funny. You and your brother should go on the road with that comedy act. Now take off your shirt!" she commanded.

"You are even more beautiful when you're demanding." When her arms crossed her chest, he realized she was dead serious, and wouldn't be taking no for an answer "You won't like what you see," he added as he obliged her.

He pulled off the t-shirt. Devon had been shot by a crossbow not twelve hours earlier and the only trace of his near death wound was a tiny purple indent below his collarbone. She tried not to stare in disbelief. As her eyes passed over his broad chest and flat six-pack stomach she realized she was staring. Was she drooling? She couldn't pull her eyes away from him. His upper torso was as flawless as a stone sculpture. _He must have enormous upper body strength,_ she thought to herself.

It suddenly dawned on her that she was gaping at him and instantly blushed with embarrassment.

"But...that's...umm...how did...uhh," she mumbled, fumbling for words then gave up and plopped down into the kitchen chair, bewildered. "I need coffee," she finally said.

Devon turned and threw the burning pancake in the trash. He opened the cabinet and got out a cup and poured coffee for her. She grabbed the handle of the refrigerator and pulled out the fat free creamer. She attempted to say something several times, in regards to her confusion about his healed chest, but each time she failed and nothing came out.

He grabbed his t-shirt and gestured to her. "Do you mind if I put my shirt back on now?" he said, smiling. She nodded with a tinge of regret.

"There are some things I need to explain to you, but we don't have to do that right now. Let's just enjoy the moment. Have some pancakes—you do like pancakes, don't you?" he asked, concerned all of sudden.

"Yah, I mean, who doesn't like pancakes, especially from scratch? I don't even know how to make pancakes without a mix," she confided. "But you might want to make a whole lot more. We have visitors." She pointed towards the front room. He looked confused by the gesture. "You were right about your brother and my sister being Yin and Yang. The girl your brother met—turns out it's my sister. They're both asleep in the front bedroom."

"I don't suppose that happens very often, a set of sisters hooking up with a set of brothers," he pondered.

He finished making a huge pile of pancakes for all and sat with a cup of coffee of his own. He gave her that smile—the one he and his brother shared—the one that would ultimately get them anything they desired.

"I was thinking," he began. He pointed to the front room and made a circle motion and continued after he took a sip of coffee, "that all of us should go up to Halfmoon Bay today, sit on the beach and hash all this out. You and your sister are involved now...this thing...we need to discuss. If my brother has half the feelings for your sister that I do for you, then I think we should all be honest with each other. After that, if they want to stay or go they can do so. I was hoping though, that maybe if you still wanted to, after our conversation that is, we could go on the date we were cheated out of last night."

She smiled and said, "But shouldn't someone stay here and watch for the software engineer slayers?"

He furrowed his brows amusement and laughed. "Software engineer slayers? What are they?"

"Your brother and I talked a bit last night. He was pretty adamant about not telling me too much about the situation you both are in. He felt it wasn't his place and wanted it to come from you. But too much had happened not to have some kind of explanation. So in an attempt to understand what he was telling me, and not telling me, we...I...well, maybe he better explain. Either way, shouldn't we be on the lookout for Terrence Paine and his men?" she said.

"Wow, I'm not sure how to respond to that. You seem to know a lot, and nothing at all. I'm so sorry. You must be very confused by all that's gone on.

"I'll tell you what, I will talk to my brother, and find out how much your sister knows and how much you know, then we will get together so we are all up to speed, okay?"

"Oh, thank God, because if I had to go through another round of Pooba Paine, the Van Helsing guy, and the other software engineer slayers, I think my brain would turn to goo."

Looking extremely entertained and perplexed, he agreed, "I'm confused just hearing about it; no wonder you're confused. As for Terrence Paine, I don't think we will hear or see anything from him or his goons for at least a few days, so a one day reprieve should be fine."

A suddenly seriousness came over him and he continued, "I hope when you know the truth, you will still want to be a part of our lives, because after all that's happened I can't imagine my life without you."

She swooned, blushed, and smiled at the same time. "After yesterday, I don't think there is anything in Heaven, or on Earth, that could keep me away from you," she responded.

He smiled at her with every inch of his face, and she knew right then it was the only smile she ever wanted to see again.

"Okay then, I'll feed Harry and take a shower. You wake the lovebirds, talk to your brother, and we'll see if we are all in agreement about Halfmoon Bay. Okay?" Darby said.

"Sounds like a plan."

**Chapter 5**

It had been agreed that the best thing to do was to put all four heads together and come clean with any secrets yet to be revealed. Only then could they decide on a plan. Additionally, the brothers had their talk and both seemed thoroughly amused by the whole thing. To Devon's amazement, Blake had already told the family secret to Rowan. Darby was the only one in the dark and that needed to be remedied as soon as possible. This kind of news needed to come from Devon—not through Blake or Rowan.

Devon and Darby took his car, a silver Mercedes E-Class coupe. Not as flashy as the Audi, but very nice. Blake and Rowan took the Audi, of course. As they drove along the coast, Darby caught a glimpse of Devon, smiling as if something was very funny.

"What are you smirking about?" she asked.

"I'm not smirking."

"Yes, you are."

"Okay, maybe you're right. I'm smirking. I just would have loved to have been a fly on the wall last night during your conversation with my brother."

"Oh, you would have, huh?"

"Yes, very much so. You have a very vivid imagination, and yet your logic is impeccable. But tell me, how did your logic lead you to 'Software Engineer Slayers'? I would have liked to have seen how that evolved."

"Well, I needed vital information about these guys and Blake was being so vague in trying not to betray your confidence; so, well, I came up with that, and it got me past the stickiness to what was needed to be dealt with."

"No, I understand. I just like how you think, and your humor is, well, it's adorable. Beauty, brains, humor, and sweetness rolled into a perfect Darby package. I knew you were something amazing and wonderful when I saw you dancing on the front lawn—my little water nymph."

He tenderly brushed a wisp of hair away from her face and behind her ear. It was amazingly intimate. Warm tingles ran through her body at his touch and she blushed from head to toe. In order to hide her embarrassment, she ordered him to watch the road or he'd crash his sweet ride.

He laughed heartily at her comment and her attempt to distract him from her embarrassment. He was relaxed and happy, like the evening they had talked until the closing of the bar. It made her happy to know she could make him laugh, smile, and hopefully be himself. _That's all you could ever ask for,_ she thought.

Both cars pulled into the visitors beach parking area at Halfmoon Bay. The fog was starting to burn off. It looked as if it was going to be a glorious day.

All four walked on the beach until they were fairly clear of any other people. Not much was said between the couples as they scouted out a place far from the beaten path. Darby handed a towel to Rowan and Blake, and Devon helped her lay their towel flat in the unpredictable salty gusting breezes. Once they were settled, Devon reached for Darby's hand and placed it safely in both of his.

"Darby, it seems you are the last to learn of our secret. I don't know any easy way to say it, so I'm going to throw it out there and deal with it."

Devon looked to Rowan, who nodded in agreement, and then at Blake who nodded too. His face was serious, his eyes piercing as he took a deep breath and said, "My brother and I are vampires." He waited for her reaction. At first she felt confused and then she smiled and looked at Rowan.

"Okay, very funny, guys. What is this? Make fun of Darby day?" Her eyes met her sister's; Rowan smiled but shook her head telling Darby she'd got it wrong. Darby turned back to Devon, who looked disappointed by her reaction. She saw it then, the shame, the embarrassment, and the hurt.

"You're vampires? Real vampires? Bloodsucking vampires? But, I don't understand. You're in the sun? You've never bitten me. I've seen you eat food and drink beer. I don't understand."

"Most of the things you are referring to were made up in Hollywood or in folklore. We do drink blood, and bite, but we don't kill unless it's in self-defense," Blake explained when he saw that Devon wasn't ready to speak.

Devon added after a moment of silence, "That is why I healed so fast. The arrow hadn't pierced my heart. Just like any race, there are good vampires and there are bad vampires. Unlucky for us, most people only remember the bad."

"I suppose that explains the allergy to wood and the rapid healing, like you said," Darby said sorting through her thoughts as she spoke. She looked to Blake and added, "I guess that's why you wouldn't let me take him to the hospital.

"Hmmm...you said your parents were killed by this Terrence guy. Were they vampires?" she asked.

"Yes," Devon answered.

"I didn't know vampires could have children. I thought you got bit by a vampire and became a vampire through some process."

"Yes and no...there are two types of vampires, those who are born of vampire parents and those who are made by vampires. Those who are made through a process of biting and then sharing blood tend to be wilder, more animal-like. Vampires born from vampire parents tend to be more like humans," Devon tried to explain.

"How so?" Darby asked.

"Vampires who are made are more sensitive to sunlight. If exposed for too long they can die. Born vampires won't die from sunlight; it doesn't hurt us. Some don't like it, but for most, it doesn't affect them in the slightest.

"Vampires who are made crave blood more than born vampires. It makes them crazy, killing their victims in frenzy. They also have to feed more often—at least once a day. Born vampires can eat food as well as blood, but only need to feed once a week and less as they age. If they feed on blood more than food, their powers of speed, strength, sight and hearing become more acute," Devon explained.

"Most, though, prefer to dine on food rather than a sole diet of blood because it calls too much attention to them," Blake added.

"So...how old are you both?" Darby asked.

"Born vampires age slower than humans, by about one year for every four human years. I'm twenty-eight in vampire years and 112 in human years. Blake is twenty-five in vampire years and 100 in human years," Devon responded.

"So in a few years, I'll be looking old and you'll still be looking perfect?"

Blake laughed and blurted, "Perfect! Phffft. Him?"

Devon glared at him. "Shut it, Blake. "To answer your question, Darby, not necessarily. We can age faster if we choose."

"But wouldn't that cut your life shorter?" Darby asked.

"No. Not really," Devon relayed.

"In the movies vampires have to sleep in coffins. Do you sleep in a coffin?" Darby asked.

Rowan squealed. "Eeeew! Gross, Darby. You think I'd sleep in a coffin?"

"No. No coffins," Devon said.

"What about mirrors? Do you have a reflection?"

"Of course we do. You watch too many movies, Darby," Blake accused.

"What about garlic? Can you eat garlic?" Darby asked.

"Unfortunately yes," Devon said referring to Blake.

"What? So I like garlic, what's wrong with that?" Blake retorted defensively.

"Your breath is what's wrong with it," Devon answered. Rowan tried to sooth Blake's bruised ego with a kiss on the shoulder.

"And stakes?" Darby asked.

"Well, after last night I think you can concur that a stake through the chest, but not in the heart, paralyzes a vampire and wounds him pretty badly, but not fatally. A stake in the heart, however, would kill a vampire. A stake anywhere else is painful but can be healed, as you've seen," Devon explained.

"Beheading, will do it too," Blake interjected.

"Yes as my brother so eloquently pointed out, beheading would indeed kill a vampire as well as fire. Born vampires have nothing to do with coffins as we said, but for some reason many of the made-vampires can become attached to a coffin. I guess the whole process of dying and such can make that happen," Devon pointed out.

There was a lull in the Q & A, so Devon assumed maybe Darby was satisfied. "Are we good then?"

"I, well, I just...it's a lot of information," Darby admitted and pulled away from Devon.

Rowan stepped in. "Blake, could you and Devon go back to the car and grab the cooler? I'm thirsty and I think a little sister time may be called for here."

"Yeah, sure. Devon?" Blake said. Devon stood looking disappointed. He and Blake headed back to the car.

As soon as the guys were out of earshot, even for vampires, Rowan said, "Darby...I know this is overwhelming. I was shocked too when Blake told me."

"Aren't you scared or worried?"

"No. Not in the least. I was a little freaked, but I thought it was really cool. I'm dating a vampire. Not that I could go around saying that, but well, you know. I mean, come on, Darby. You risked your life for this guy, so you must feel strongly for him and it's apparent he's really into you. That's pretty clear to everyone."

"You think? It's not obvious to me. I mean, I adore him, but what kind of future can a vampire and a human have?"

"Look, Darby. There are complications, yes, I will agree to that, but all relationships are complicated. You told me yourself that's what makes them exciting. I haven't seen you so happy since before...well, in a long time and it's because of Devon."

"Yeah, I know, he's wonderful, but he's a vampire, for crying out loud."

"Oh, come on. Aren't you always telling me that you wish you could be more spontaneous?"

"Yes, but this isn't like taking an unplanned road trip, Rowan; our lives could be at stake."

"Why? They've never killed anyone."

"How do you know that?"

"I asked Blake."

"Really? You just asked him?"

"Duh. How else would I find out?"

"And you believe him?"

"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?

"I don't know. I just wish..."

"What? What do you wish?"

"I wish he was just...normal. You know?"

"Wasn't it you who told me normal wasn't all it was cracked up to be? We're not normal, Darby. We're witches, for Pete's sake."

"But I want children, Rowan. You know that. I've always wanted children. I don't want to get involved with anyone I might not be able to do that with."

"You can have children with him. I asked about that too. Humans and born vampires can have children, usually with a very good success rate."

"But what about the child? Would it be a vampire or a human?"

"A born vampire and a human would have a child that may or may not crave blood, and may or may not have vampiric abilities. Blake gave me a lot of detail about made-vampires, born vampires, and crossing them with humans, but the long and short of it is that it can and has been done many times over the centuries.

"Darby, look, I know you are tentative, to say the least. Not everything can be rationalized. Sometimes you have to go with your gut feeling. My heart tells me I can trust Blake and I think deep down yours is telling you the same. I know I can be flakey and jump into things before really thinking them through, but this feels different. This feels...right. I see in your eyes that you feel it too.

"No. They're not your 'run of the mill' guys, but then we aren't what others might consider normal either. I'm not saying it isn't going to be hard, sometimes maybe even complicated, but what relationship isn't?

"I think it's safe to say that if you don't take a chance and see where this leads, you're always going to wonder, 'what if.' From what I've gathered from Blake about Devon I believe he's worth a leap of faith."

"I know he's worth it. I've known since we first spoke. And you are right; all relationships are complicated in their own way. Thank you, Rowan. You've really helped." She leaned over and hugged her sister tightly and as she pulled away, Devon and Blake were back.

Devon handed her the sweater she left in the car and sat where he had been seated before. She leaned over and raised her hands to each side of his face stroking his cheeks softly.

"I'm sorry I freaked a little before. You kind of caught me off guard. I'm the one who's always looking out for Rowan and everyone else around me, so sometimes I can be a bit pessimistic until I've had time to think things through. Rowan has helped me fast-forward through some of that but, Devon, I don't care what you are, or even what you've done in the past. I do know that when you were hurt last night, something I can't explain came over me like nothing ever before, and all I wanted was for you stay with me forever. The rest will work itself out."

Devon leaned in and kissed her. First, he grazed her lips with his, then kissed her, warming her heart and body, scorching everything her heated blood came into contact with. Goosebumps rose on her skin making every touch, no matter how minute, more pronounced. They smiled at one another still in their own little world until Rowan and Blake clapped, cheered, and cat-called, "Woo hoo!"

"Wow. That was pretty spectacular," Rowan said.

"I think I saw fireworks and maybe even heard a little background music playing. Didn't you hear it?" Blake asked Rowan.

"I think I did," she agreed. Devon and Darby blushed.

"Okay! Okay! Darby is up to speed now."

"I'll say, and then some," Rowan said. Everyone laughed.

Rowan continued, "Now that we're all good with the vampire thing, we still need to deal with the guys after you. So what do we know?"

"Terrence Paine has some kind of vendetta against your family. I think we should find out what that is and deal with him. If he goes away then the thugs go away," Darby said.

"Darby suggested last night that maybe we should go through Mom and Dad's things and see if there is anything that might be of use in finding what got Terrence Paine's boxers in a twist," Blake said.

"I don't think I said that exactly, but yeah, that is the gist," Darby said.

Rowan asked, "Where are your Mom and Dad's things?"

"Everything is in Ireland in a storage locker. That's where Mom and Dad had settled. At the time, there was no need in bringing the stuff here. Blake and I moved around so much and it was just one more thing to move. I figured we would keep it there until one of us settled down," Devon answered.

"I would have done the same if we hadn't wanted to live here when our parents died," Rowan responded.

"Do all four of us go to Ireland to look into this or do we want someone to hang here as a look out?" Blake asked.

"Doesn't that depend on work for you guys? Blake, are you working? Devon said he was working on a project in Mountain View," Darby pointed out.

"Good point," Devon said. "Presently I'm ahead of schedule, so that gives us a little room to breathe and the project is due to end in three weeks, at least my portion of it. I have about another week of testing and debugging, but I don't see any huge hurdles to jump. What about you, Blake? Darby? Rowan?"

"I'm on summer break 'til September," answered Rowan.

"As long as I can do payroll twice a month and check in, Allison can run things. She's been begging me to take a vacation for months, so it's doable for me," Darby said.

"I finished my project weeks ago and I haven't had any nibbles on anything new for at least two months," said Blake.

"Then it's wide open; if we all want to go, we can, but we can easily opt out too. Let's leave that open for now and figure out who goes later," Devon concluded.

"Darby told Blake about our family cabin in Clear Lake too, so if for any reason we need to make a quick getaway, that is an option," Rowan said.

"That is a nice bonus if things get too heated at home," Blake said.

"What if we went to Terrence Paine and asked him what the problem was? I mean sometimes the simplest route is the best," Rowan asked.

"It's a good point, but our parents have died, Devon was shot last night and almost died, and Max is dead. Once Paine finds out about Max, he'll be wanting revenge," Blake answered.

"But it might be smart to snoop around in his hometown to see what we can learn. What if Paine has combined forces with some other slayer? Or maybe there is more to the vendetta than we think? I say a trip to Maine may be in order. The last thing Paine would expect is our coming to him," Darby argued.

"So Darby, why don't you go to Maine, and just blast Paine and his cronies with that trick you used last night on Max?" Blake asked.

Rowan looked surprised and Darby disappointed. "I wish it were that easy, Blake. You know I would if I could, especially if it would keep you and your brother from harm, but like I said last night, I don't know how I did it," she said.

"What did you do to him, Darby?" asked Rowan.

"I killed him," she said rather ashamed.

"That is not entirely true. You blew him backwards thirty feet, but you didn't aim for the tree. You were defending Devon, who couldn't defend himself," Blake added.

"Either way, he's dead because I threw him. But if the same thing happened again, I would react the same. I wanted him to stop hurting Devon. Going back to your question, Rowan, I don't know how it happened. I was standing there, Devon wounded at my feet. The thought of losing Devon was unbearable, and then pure anger washed over me. Everything that had ever made me mad seemed to form some kind of force and I put up my hand to stop him from coming any closer and he went flying. That's all I know," Darby said to her sister.

"Wow, I would have liked to have seen that," Rowan said.

Devon interjected, "Speaking of what happened, maybe you two have something you should tell us. Like this power you were talking about, and this little pouch of goodies in my pocket. Darby, you told me you come from a line of witches, but you didn't say you practiced or had any powers." He pulled out the velvet pouch of healing stones and herbs she placed in his pocket last night.

Rowan started, "All the O'Riellys have had powers of some sort over the centuries. Our family fled to Oljone back in the late 1700s to escape prejudices and persecution. Once our ancestors came out here, they utilized their powers less and less as they didn't want to go through the persecution again. Darby and I are the last of the line. Our father didn't even know of the ancestors and their powers. He may not have even been aware of his power. He sensed things, but because he never realized it was a power, he never really used it. He knew, though, when we were in trouble."

Darby added, "Rowan and I share that power with each other too, although we don't know how to use or control it. When we were little girls, Rowan fell out of a tree. Nobody knew it had happened, but I felt it. I saw where she was, I felt her pain and knew right where to go. The same thing happened last night with you, Devon. The warmth, then a glow, and I saw into your mind except for a sheer gossamer-like area. That must be where you hid the vampire thing, otherwise, I guess I would have known last night—that might have come in handy. As for the velvet pouch in your pocket, well, last night I went through our ancestral Book of Shadows and found some herbs and stones that were good at accelerating the healing process and help you sleep peacefully."

"That's good to know. We have more assets than we thought, Blake." Devon said. Blake nodded in agreement and the girls smiled. "With a little practice and research, we might be able to use this to our advantage. With your book and our speed and strength, we may be able to work this out—together," Devon winked at Darby.

"Together," they all said.

Devon turned to Rowan and Blake and said, "Why don't you guys head up to San Francisco, or down to the boardwalk in Santa Cruz? Get out of here. Go have fun." He turned to Darby and said, "We are going on that first date we were deprived of last night."

The girls hugged and the guys jabbed each other in the arm. The couples headed back to their cars, waved, and went their separate ways.

**Chapter 6**

Both cars left the Halfmoon Bay beach visitors parking lot at the same time. The black Audi turned north on Highway 1 and the sleek, silver Mercedes headed south.

"What's the plan?" Darby asked.

"When was the last time you went to the Monterey Aquarium?"

She cocked her head and bit her lip.

"I don't know? I think the last time was with my dad and Rowan when I was in high school. How about you?"

"Never been. I've heard they have a really great seahorse and sea otter exhibitions. I thought we could explore there for a while to start."

"Sounds fun. Will we be staying in Monterey tonight?"

"Could be. I took the liberty of getting two rooms near Cannery Row in case we didn't want to drive back, but I will leave that up to you to decide." He reached over and gently clasped her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the back so gentle, she trembled and blushed. Then he set it onto his thigh. He occasionally stroked the top of her hand with his thumb. It was so calming and sweet. His tenderness seemed boundless.

His hand was warm around hers and she worried that his warmth may give her sweaty palms. The nervous excitement was intense enough. _What if he thinks sweaty hands are gross? Can I control it? Shouldn't they make sweaty palm antiperspirant? I mean, isn't it normal to have sweaty palms on your first date?_ She was looking out the window and starting to tense. She had shorts on, and it could get unpredictably chilly on the coast in the evening, even in the summer. _I don't have a toothbrush either. Yuck, morning breath,_ she thought.

He picked her hand up kissed it again. "Darby, I don't care if you get sweaty palms." He turned her hand over and kissed her palm, which was very hot, but just shy of sweaty. Then he brought her hand up to touch his cheek and continued, "I've also taken the liberty of packing some necessities for both of us and what we don't have we can get in Monterey."

She looked at him, eyes focused hard, trying to look into his mind. "You're reading my mind, aren't you?"

A little embarrassed, he released her hand and put his hand back on the steering wheel and answered, "Yes. But I can hardly help it. I've been able to read your mind since our first meeting. Normally, I sense things about someone, maybe read a thought or two, but the connection with you, well, I find it hard to define my thoughts from yours."

"Now that is embarrassing. You heard that whole thing with the sweaty palm antiperspirant and..." Then a realization hit her, _Oh my God, have I pictured him naked or... Oh God, this isn't happening_.

He laughed out loud and then quickly tried to stop. He stroked her hair.

"Please don't be embarrassed," he said, "If you think I haven't had some of the same thoughts you are mistaken. Very poorly mistaken." He chuckled and seemed a little embarrassed himself.

"But why can't I read your mind, if mine seems so connected to yours?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. But I think with time, you will be able to. You've not really tapped into all your gifts yet. I would guess there are a few things you can do that you don't know about, because you have never tried. I'd like to explore that with you, if you would allow me. I mean if you are not interested, that's one thing, but if you are curious—you and your sister, I think Blake and I can help. Even test you."

"Really, you think I have that kind of potential?"

"I really do. But let's get something straight—I'm not here with you right now because of what you can do. Sure you and your sister may be able to help my brother and me with this Paine problem, but that is not why I'm with you. I can't speak for my brother on this, but as for me, I'm in...I mean...I...I can't breathe or think when I am away from you.

"Somewhere in the last few days, I've come to... Let's say it this way...My life was perfectly fine before I met you. I thought. But now that you're here and I've gotten to know you, I couldn't go back to my old life. I've seen what I was missing. I've touched it; kissed it even." He smiled. "There is no going back. You've become a part of me, like an organ or limb that I can't do without. If you didn't have any power at all, that part would not change. You are my happiness now. I only hope you feel the same."

A tear rolled down her cheek as he finished speaking. She hadn't realized her eyes had even welled up, and she looked at him as he stared out the windshield and said, "I do feel that way and I have to say that was the most perfect thing anyone, ever, has said to me." She raised her hand and touched his cheek with her whole sweaty palm and let her hand glide down his face, fingertips run along his jawbone to his chin, down his neck, over his Adam's apple to the vulnerable triangular indentation at the base of his throat.

She felt a tiny vibration with her fingertips as he let out an almost inaudible groan. If she hadn't felt the vibration, she might not have known he had groaned at all.

"Umm, please don't do that while I'm driving. I want to make sure I get you there in one piece and I'm afraid if you keep that up...ummm...I'll crash the car at the very least." With that he gave her a warning look, with a sly, erotic smile.

She bit her lip and smiled, turning forward in her seat.

"However," he continued, "just so we are clear, you can do that anytime you like, when I'm not operating heavy machinery and preferably when we're alone, because you will definitely get a reaction from me."

"What kind of reaction?" she asked coyly.

"Try it tonight if you wish, and you'll get your answer."

_Sweet, sweet anticipation—there's nothing like it_ , she thought.

He answered out loud, "Here, here!" They both laughed.

There was silence as both thought on what might or might not happen that night. Darby broke that silence with "Can you influence a person's thoughts with your mind? As a vampire, I mean."

"Yes. Some vampires use their influence to lure their prey, but I use it so they don't remember the feeding. They have no recollection of meeting me, or what happened. They just assume they got bit by an insect."

"Have you ever influenced me?"

"Not so far," he laughed.

"Can you influence other vampires?"

"No."

"Can you sense them? I mean, do you know when another is around?"

"Yes."

"What's it like drinking blood? It seems like such an intimate thing—like taking someone's life force. Is there a connection you feel with the person?"

"Hmmm," he said a little embarrassed, then continued, "It's hard to describe drinking blood, because I've always done it. It would be like me asking you what it felt like to drink water. I would suppose a made-vampire could describe it better since they were human and turned vampire. But as for the intimacy, yes, I suppose there is a bit there. Again, this would be better answered by a made-vampire who has something to compare it to. If I had to describe it, I would say it is similar to any animal feeding on another. The need for sustenance is primal for all living things."

"Have you ever shared your blood with another vampire?"

"No, I haven't. Some vampire couples do. I guess it would be another form of sexual intimacy, but I've never met anyone, until now, I wanted to experience that kind of closeness with."

"Have you ever wanted to bite me?"

"No. I feel protective of you. I couldn't possibly hurt you."

"Speaking of biting, does it hurt?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. There may come a time when you are weak, hungry, or hurt. There's no reason you couldn't take some of my blood, right? I just want to know if it would hurt."

"No, I think it only hurts for a second, like a needle going in, but then again I've never been bitten. There's always the mind influence too; I could block the pain in your mind if need be."

"How do you turn a human into a vampire?"

"It's a process of feeding on the human and then offering the vampire blood to the human. How much of each, I have no idea."

"Would you ever consider turning me, if that was what I wanted?"

"I don't see the benefit of putting you through a near death experience, that may or may not work, and then watching you suffer through the endless craving and lust for blood. What would be the point?"

"To be with you forever would be the point, and to be more like you. Immortality with someone you love, how could that be a bad thing?"

"I know that sounds romantic to you, but forever is a very long time to have such a craving and hunger."

"I take it you've never made a vampire?"

"No—the process itself is very tricky and it doesn't always work. You're supposed to control them, teach them not to kill humans, be responsible for those you turn. Most don't follow through with the responsibility thing. It can be done, though. There are some born vampires who have fallen in love with humans and turned them, to be with them longer."

"I'm sorry I'm asking so many questions. It's just kind of fascinating. Plus I guess it helps me get a handle on it. Wrap my brain around it, so to speak."

"It's fine. I'm glad you find it fascinating and not terrifying. I was a little worried there for a while."

"Even if I ran initially, I'd be running back to find you as soon as my mind cleared," she admitted. He smiled.

After a few minutes they turned off Highway 1 and pulled into the valet area of the Spindrift Inn on Cannery Row. When Devon turned off the car and pulled the lever to pop the trunk, Darby turned to him and wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"What was that for? Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"Thank you," she said.

"For what? So far I've only driven you to Monterey," he asked.

"For everything, but mostly for being you."

"Well, that's an easy one. I wake up every day as me and I don't even have to try!"

They both chuckled and he got out of the car. As he was walking around the front, he noticed she was starting to get out and as they met eyes, he put up one finger as if issuing a demand for her to stop. She smiled coyly but was tickled by his gallantry. He came over to her door, opened it, and held out his hand to help her out.

_How utterly romantic, I feel like royalty!_ she thought with a smile.

He whispered in her ear, "Get used to it."

With his left hand hovering at the small of her back, he led her to the door. _An old-fashioned gesture_ , she thought, _like holding hands, but more proper._ It seemed to Darby the gesture served to tell all men in the vicinity _'this woman is with me and I'm proud to be with her.'_

Devon handed the porter the keys and a tip while asking him to bring in the bags in the trunk.

He led her to the counter. A gorgeous woman stood behind the counter, ogling Devon and completely oblivious of Darby's existence. She said to Devon, "May I help you, sir?" He answered her, "Check-in for Bloomington."

He turned to Darby, pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. Disgruntled by his lack of attention to her, the woman behind the counter said, "Yes, I have you down for two rooms for you and your guest."

Darby whispered in his ear, "How about just one?"

His eyebrows rose in surprised delight, and he looked at her to verify she was sure. She nodded in response. He turned and said, "Seems our other guest will not be joining us. We'll only be needing one room."

"Certainly, sir," the woman said.

He interrupted her to add, "But the arrangements for the one room have not changed, correct?"

"No, sir. Your instructions are right here and will be ready for you at the requested time." Darby saw the woman reading through the instructions, then eyeing Darby in distaste.

Devon turned back to Darby, who confronted him with a confused look. "Just a little surprise," he said. Like a little boy with a secret, his whole face lit in a smile.

They headed out the front glass doors toward the aquarium a block away. It was Sunday and there were many people there. They looked at all the exhibits and touched all the critters they were allowed to engage with.

A humongous tank with kelp as tall as two stories swayed with the ocean current making Darby a bit dizzy. She grabbed ahold of Devon's arm to steady herself as she passed by its beauty.

A wave crashed against the glass catching her attention. It was only a simulation of the inside of the tube of a wave. She ducked as another wave came over them as they walked through the exhibit. Devon chuckled at her flinch, but Darby caught him ducking himself at the end of the tunnel when another wave crashed.

They headed for the seahorse exhibit. It was dark and crowded like most of the exhibits, but Darby had a hold of Devon's hand the whole time. She didn't even get sweaty palms. Tank after tank held seahorses of every color size and shape a person could fathom. Most of the fun was the challenge in trying to identify what was an animal and what was foliage. It was so amazing and she was so excited to share it with Devon. He _oohed and awed_ and pointed just as she did. Each of them wanted to share everything they saw with one another.

They were searching for hiding seahorses and since she was shorter than him, Devon stood close behind her at most tanks. She could only assume he was being heedful of a proper distance in case she didn't like it, but she did like it—a lot. At one of the tanks, she leaned back to meet his body and he responded by kissing the top of her head. His arms came around her waist and held her. _Safe in his arms, warm from his body against hers—this is bliss._ His lips slid gently to her ear and he whispered, "It is... I totally agree." She closed her eyes in contentment for just a second and as if reading her like a book, he tenderly kissed the ear. They stood for a while enjoying the closeness of their bodies and beauty of the tiny seahorses.

Over the speaker system they heard, "Mr. Bloomington, would you please proceed to the designated door."

He whispered, "A surprise."

He had completely caught her off her guard. Hand in hand she followed him through the crowd to a door in the middle of the aquarium. In white letters it read "Employees Only." Devon knocked. A few seconds later a man in a wet suit holding a bucket of oysters and clams opened the door and said, "Are you Mr. Bloomington?"

"I am."

"Follow me."

They walked down a long corridor with a couple of turns. All the while, they passed door after door with small windows in them, giving tiny glimpses of university faculty, oceanographers, and all kinds of aquatic animals. They finally stopped at a door, when the man with the wetsuit pulled out a set of keys, from where, Darby didn't know, and she was pretty sure she didn't care to find out. Behind the door was a tank with four baby sea otters and their mother. Apparently, Darby and Devon were there to help feed the little babies, whose mother had been injured in a fishing net and being nursed back to health.

It was the most thrilling thing Darby had ever done. Feeding these adorable creatures and laughing at their play filled her heart even more. After meeting Devon, she didn't think her heart could hold any more love, but like the _Grinch Who Stole Christmas_ , it grew at least two sizes right there. Devon seemed to be touched too, and enjoyed the little guys as much as she did. Darby knew she would remember this experience always.

After about a half an hour of playing with the baby sea otters, they found themselves back in the corridor, winding this way and that, finally depositing them back into the main part of the aquarium. He looked down at her and asked "Are you hungry?"

"I am. Not starving, but..." Darby started.

"I've got the perfect thing for that." He smiled smugly. As before, he led her by the small of her back out of the aquarium and past the hotel, to the harbor. On the dock they passed through a locked gate that Devon just happened to have the key to.

"Are you going to make me fish for my snack?" she jokingly asked.

"Even better," he said. He raised his right hand toward a docked forty-one foot sailboat. He guided her to the vessel and the captain popped his head out.

"Are you Mr. Bloomington?" he asked.

"I am, and this is my guest, Ms. O'Rielly," Devon answered.

"A pleasure to have you aboard, Ms. O'Rielly." The man held out his hand to assist her onto the boat.

"I am Captain Gordon, and this is my first mate, Daniel. Why don't you both make yourself comfortable. Mr. Bloomington has provided a sweater for you, miss. Would you like Daniel to get that for you? The sun will be setting in about forty-five minutes and it will get a bit cool."

Darby looked behind her, first at Devon and then at Captain Gordon and said, "Yes, Captain Gordon, I think I would like that sweater." The captain nodded at Daniel who jumped below deck and brought up a gorgeous ivory cable knit pull-over sweater that felt like cashmere. It was big on her; maybe it was Devon's and that made her snuggle her face into it even more. It smelled wonderful—like him.

They sat on a deep, plush bench beneath the main sail, Darby on Devon's lap. She leaned into him resting the back of her head on his shoulder; her lips so close his neck she could almost taste him. He donned a wool sweater that looked lovely on him. His hair was swept back from the breeze that was picking up now that the sun was sinking in the sky. He was a vision—like a picture from a magazine. She had her arms around her bent knees and he snuggled in to her, wrapping his arms around all of her. She felt so small, so safe—so perfectly happy. He kissed her ear and whispered, "Are you ready?"

"For what?" she said.

"For us. For this. For our own sunset. For you and me—for all of it."

She had never been more sure about anything in her life. She stared into his lovely brown eyes in the low glorious sunlight and answered, "I am...I'm ready for all of it and you...always for you. You keep holding me like this and I will follow you anywhere as long as you want me there."

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that," he said, hugging her tighter. She kissed his cheek. After taxying out of the harbor the sails were hoisted and the sun was just about to set.

She tasted the salty sea on her lips and the cool kiss of a breeze on her face. The orange ball that heated the waning day seemed to float on amethyst rippled glass. Above and around the distorted orb, the sky was aflame in hues of red and yellows.

While Darby admired the masterpiece nature artistry painted before her, Daniel appeared with a tray offering them champagne and strawberries.

"You went to way too much trouble for me. I mean, I love it, but I would have been just as happy having pizza and beer with you by my side holding me. Trust me, I'm a cheap date and pretty easy to please," Darby said to Devon.

"Maybe so, but you only get one first date and I wanted ours to be perfect—something we would look back on many years later, remembering how things started. Like the opening paragraph of a book, it's got to be good to keep you interested or you're not going to want to read all five-hundred pages!" he joked. He held up his glass. "Here's to the first of many sunsets I hope to share with you, Darby O'Rielly." They tapped glasses and Captain Gordon sailed them into the glorious sunset.

"Can you hear it?" Devon asked Darby.

"Hear what?" she said.

"They say when you watch the sun set, if you listen hard enough, you can hear it sizzle as it touches the water," he explained.

"Hmmm," she said, "Nope. But it is beautiful just the same. Should a puff of steam come up, when the sun is completely engulfed by the sea?"

"I don't know. I guess we'll have to watch and see what happens," he whispered in her ear. Daniel came out with fresh shrimp cocktail. Darby fed one to Devon and he thanked her with a tight squeeze and a smile. They watched as the last tiny bit of sun glided into the water leaving traces of its earlier intense brilliance.

"Awwww. No puff of steam—maybe next time," Darby said with a disappointed giggle and another sip of champagne. She fed the strawberry from her drink to Devon, and he kissed her with fruity lips. They held each other close, enjoying the scenery around them until the boat was back in the harbor.

"Oh, thank you, Devon, this has been the most amazing date, no—the most amazing day I have ever had in my life. It's been absolutely perfect in every way. Thank you so much," Darby said as Devon took her hand helping her to the dock.

"I'm glad you've enjoyed it, but it isn't over yet, unless you want it to be. I mean, there is still one more surprise left."

"Another? The day has been so perfect already. Aren't we tempting fate?" she asked.

"We're not tempting fate, we're embracing it. But hey, if you'd rather not, it's okay with me. I can take you home right now, if you like," Devon announced.

By the tone in his voice she could tell he was baiting her—teasing with what might be another incredible surprise. That's when she knew she was a goner; curiosity had gotten the better of her. They both turned towards the yacht to say good bye to Captain Gordon and Daniel and then continued up the dock.

"All right, so what's the last surprise?" she asked as they headed out of the marina.

"Telling you kind of defeats the concept of surprise," he said with a devilish smile.

"You know that smile of yours is quite lethal," she admitted.

"What?"

"Yes. Lethal. Your brother is just as bad," she told him.

"Oh, now my brother is involved?"

"Yes." She smiled. "You do know I can't say no to you when you use that smile on me. It's lethal."

With a knowing grin he pulled her close to him for a quick hug and whispered in her ear, "I figured as much."

"When can we check out this last surprise," she said trying to hold back her excitement. "You've certainly aroused my curiosity."

He checked his cell phone and said, "It should be ready by now." With that he took her hand and set it in the crook of his arm and they walked to the hotel.

Inside, they headed to the elevator and Devon hit the button for the top floor. _The Girl From Ipanema_ played in the elevator as they whizzed up. The doors opened and they stepped to the end of the hall. He slipped the card in the door, opened it, and led her in.

**Chapter 7**

She had never seen anything like it. The windows overlooked Monterey Bay. The colors of the setting sun that had bathed the sky earlier had turned to shades of purple and indigo. The water beneath the masterpiece of sky was ink black sparkled with moonlight diamonds that looked alive as they moved along the ripples. The waves crashed on the beach below in thunderous violence of foamy white then dissipated as it rushed up to meet the sand and rocks. The twinkling lights of the cities around the bay could be seen as far north as the boardwalk in Santa Cruz. There was a seat beneath the picturesque window full of comfy cushions to enjoy the view in warmth and comfort.

To the right was a fireplace with a fire licking the wood in its grate. A gorgeous bouquet of at least two-dozen lavender roses adorned the mantel. The smell of roses in the room was delicious.

To the left was a queen-sized canopied bed. The comforter was pulled back, beckoning its sleepy guests. A mint was placed on each pillow and the entire bed was covered in lavender rose petals—real rose petals, not silk petals. At the foot of the bed were two folded big, fluffy bathrobes with matching slippers on the floor.

In the center of the room was a small table set for two. A stand up champagne bucket stood next to it and silver-domed covers were over both plates. Carefully camouflaged speakers filled the room with soft sounds of violins and cellos.

And if this was not enough to make any girl swoon, there must have been a hundreds candles lit around the room. Even the bathroom, and next to the gigantic tub was a huge glass bowl of more lavender rose petals, presumably to be put in the water, if one so opted to have a bath. Yet, another champagne bucket was placed near the tub.

She was stunned speechless. She turned to Devon and hugged him. He closed the door behind them with one hand. He returned her hug, but she didn't release, and when he pulled her away, he saw that she was crying. He panicked and pulled her back to him and held her stroking her back.

"What's wrong, Darby, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean t..." he said.

She interrupted him with, "Sorry? Oh my God, I've never seen anything so romantic. It's like being in a fairytale—I...I...don't deserve this—you, any of this. You are so, so, so handsome and this day has been...this room...beyond words...I just...Oh my God." She shook her head and blubbered. "I just don't deserve you, I mean, look at me...I," and it was then the tears turned to sobs.

He led her to the window seat and made her sit so he could sit next to her. With his hands on her shoulders he said, "You couldn't be more wrong if you tried. You do deserve this and more, and for as long as I breathe, you will have this. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen—inside and out. I will spend the rest of my life telling you that, if you'll have me."

"But you can have your pick of women, beautiful, gorgeous women. Why would you want me?"

"Because, Darby, you are the one I love. When I look around, I don't see other women anymore; you have taken their place. You are the only one I see. The only one I want to see. You are a part of me. I can't go back, ever. You've spoiled me. No other woman can stand in your place. It's you or nothing."

She kissed him gently transferring the wetness of her tears to his cheeks. They sparkled in the candlelight. She raised her hands to his temples, slipping her fingers in his hair like two combs, she sweeping it back behind his ears. It was so soft and fine. The candlelight brought out highlights she hadn't noticed before. They looked almost iridescent.

She trembled, looking into eyes. They seemed to have no end—soulful and kind. She leaned in and kissed each cheek. She pulled back just so she could see his eyes again and said in a whisper, "I love you too, Devon."

She leaned in to kiss him again. His lips, so soft and inviting, making her body temperature rise exponentially. She pulled away and stood, shedding the hot cashmere sweater.

He too stood and took off his sweater and his hands began to explore her body as he pulled her to him. He kissed her so hard her knees nearly buckled. With each touch and kiss the urgency to be nearer one another rose.

She kissed his neck. He leaned his head back, enjoying the feel of her sensuous lips making their way down his neck. She found her mouth at the small indentation at the base of his throat. She licked it and ran her tongue up to his Adam's apple and kissed it. That's when she heard that almost inaudible groan again. His hands pulled her hard to his body as if he couldn't get close enough to her and she leaned her head up to meet his mouth again. Their kisses became intense and the tension in their bodies escalated.

She knew what his hands and lips were telling her. She didn't have to read his mind to know. She also knew there was only one first time, so she was going to do it right.

She pulled away from his grip at her waist. At first he looked disappointed and confused, until he saw her unbuttoning his shirt—slowly and meticulously. She didn't look at his face as she worked diligently down his chest to his waist. She pulled his shirttails out of his pants and laid her hands on his stomach. Ever so slowly, she slid them up to his chest and then out to his shoulders, removing his shirt and letting it drop to the floor. With her hands on his chest she pushed him backward, leading him to the rose petal-covered bed. He sat, watching her intently.

His hands reached for her waist and she pulled her shirt over her head, watching him react, letting him see her become more vulnerable with every piece of clothing she dropped to the floor.

When it was complete he stood before her, each seeing the other for the first time, in body, mind, and soul. They were not touching but she felt his warm breath on her shoulder, as she was sure he felt her breath on his chest. She looked in his eyes and saw the love he confessed, and she knew this was right and perfect. She reached down, grazing his lower abdomen with her fingertips.

The tiniest of touches made her tremble. His warmth made her breathless, his touch, sigh with delight. In their nakedness there was no need for words. The world and time would stand still for this union of souls. The union of their love would be one that could stand the test of time; the kind legends were made of. Darby knew there would be no other love for her, but his forever more. It was perfect.

**Chapter 8**

Darby opened her eyes, finding herself in the big, beautiful canopy bed, being held by the most beautiful sleeping man she would ever know. His steady breathing on her shoulder, was calming and made her feel complete. Her chest hurt from the explosion of love she felt for Devon. She never wanted to move from this spot. There was no place in the world she had ever felt this kind of peace and contentment. She wondered if he could possibly feel the same way.

She thought about what Devon said about her being able to read his mind, with time, and how she never tried, so she concentrated. She focused on his breathing, the sound of his heart beating when she laid her head on his chest, the brown, calming eyes with love just for her in them, and the oneness they felt last night.

Then she felt a wave of warmth come over her and she saw her own face, smiling, wind blowing her hair and the sound of herself laughing. Then she saw her face in the candlelight, smiling, seductively, her hair spilling out on the pillow under her. She moaned in pleasure— _Whoa, what was that_?

"Those are my thoughts you're seeing. The way I see you," Devon said

"I don't look like that."

"You do to me—beautiful, sexy, funny, everything I could ever want and more." He kissed her.

"Really?"

"Yes—really."

"But that will change, in time. I'm not perfect, far from it. I'm sure I'll have habits or things that you will find annoying or gross and I won't always look like this."

"Annoying, maybe, but I can't imagine anything you could do that I might consider gross. I am a vampire after all. My mother told me that love has many phases and it takes a lot of nurturing and hard work to make it last. Finding someone to take that path with you is just as hard as the path you'll take and the phases you'll face.

"Cherish these different phases, because they are all part of the journey together. What I'm trying to say is that I don't care what you may look like forty years from now, as long as I can accompany you on the journey."

"I would like that very much." She snuggled into him tightly. "I didn't know guys actually listened to their mother's advice in matters of the heart."

"I guess you were wrong then, weren't you?"

"Apparently."

She kissed his chest then lifted her head and supported it with her hand so she could look into that loving, adorable face and drink in all that happened last night. She smiled, gazing at him, and he flashed that sparkling grin, making her giggle. "Again?" she said with surprise.

"Again and again and again and again," he said seductively while smothering her with kisses.

"Oh, all right—If I have to," she said with abandon. "But then we go home, feed Harry, and start working on my powers, okay?"

"As you wish, my love," he answered. Then he rolled her on top of him and kissed her until her toes curled with pleasure.

**Chapter 9**

The ride home was full of laughter and fun. They joked and talked about the things they had seen at the aquarium. It truly had been a perfect first date.

She told him how she had concentrated to read his mind that morning and how easy it seemed.

"See, I told you it was just a matter of time. You never really tried. Now that you know how, I'll probably never be able to surprise you again."

"Well, that's a bummer," she said, "because that means I can't surprise you either. Is there a way to block your thoughts from others?"

"Yes. Remember, you and I connected when I got shot with the crossbow? You described a gossamer sheer area that you were not able to see through. I was blocking that area of my mind. It takes practice, but it can be done. You'll be able to sense when someone is poking around in your mind and you can put the block up. Blake is very good at this and he might be able to give you more insight and instruction than I can. I can't read or block people as well."

"That will be handy; at least I will be able to surprise you occasionally." She laughed and he joined in.

"I was hoping you could give me some information on the healing pouch you gave me. Can you make them for protection too?" he asked her.

"Oh sure, the book lists all kinds of things charms can be used for. Rowan, too, is pretty good at reading runes and tarot cards, which might be useful."

"That does sound interesting. Is she accurate?"

"More often than not, and she cooks better than me too," Darby boasted.

"Very cool. We should also decide who is going where. Ireland or Maine?" he said.

"Definitely," she said and with that they turned into the driveway behind the Audi.

When they walked into her and Rowan's house, Blake and Rowan were on the couch talking.

"Hey, guys," Darby greeted them. "How's it going?"

"Good, good...how was your official first date?" Rowan asked.

"Absolutely perfect!" Darby answered practically glowing.

"In every way." Devon added and kissed Darby on the cheek as he closed the door. "You?" He looked to Blake.

"Oh, we were able to scrounge up some fun," Blake replied, sitting with his arm around Rowan who jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

"So have you thought about what your preference is? Maine? Or Ireland?" Devon inquired.

"Yeah, I think we've decided," Blake looked at Rowan for some indication of agreement. Rowan nodded and Blake continued. "We think it makes more sense for us to go to Maine since I don't know where the storage place is in Ireland. You know where that is and have all the keys and stuff; it just seemed logical to us." He looked again at Rowan. She turned from Blake to Devon and nodded in agreement.

"Good, then I will get online and look at times and dates for the tickets for you and Rowan and book our flights to Ireland," Devon said.

"No 6:00 a.m. flights, Devon. I know you think you're funny when you do that, but it will come back to haunt you...trust me," Blake threatened.

"The flights are cheaper at that time," Devon argued.

"Fine, I'll chip in for a 10:00 a.m. flight, okay? Besides, it's not just me you're torturing anymore," Blake said, kissing Rowan on the head. Rowan beamed smugly.

"True. I'll see what I can find," Devon said.

"Rowan, your sister was telling me about your talents with runes and tarot card. Do you think maybe we could have you do a drawing or reading of some sort to see if you can come up with any ideas why Paine has this vendetta against us? Or what we might be facing?" Devon said.

"I suppose," said Rowan. "I need very specific questions though. You ask a vague question, you get a vague reading."

"Oh, I see. Darby and I talked about her attempting to do what she did the other night to see if maybe it's something she could practice. I told her she could test it on Blake and me since we heal quickly; if she had any accidents, she wouldn't hurt us permanently. I know she's very nervous about that," Devon said, looking at Darby who nodded anxiously.

"And Blake, I thought you could give Darby some pointers or insight on reading minds and blocking others from her thoughts. She has seen into my thoughts now, twice, once by accident and once by concentrating," Devon continued.

"Yah, no problem, Darby. Just let me know when you want to start," Blake said.

Darby asked, "Rowan, did you feed Harry?"

"Yah. It's not like he doesn't remind you as soon as you walk in the house," Rowan teased.

"Thanks, sweetie, I'm going to ask Allison to stop by and feed him while we are gone, can't have him losing any of that, ummm...manly physique of his."

"Oh, no. We wouldn't want that," Rowan said.

"I'm going to grab the Book of Shadows and the chest of crystals. Devon, you are welcome to use my computer on the coffee table, if you want. Anybody need anything from the kitchen while I'm back there?" Darby asked.

"No, I'm good," Blake answered.

"No, thanks," Rowan said, as she jumped up and headed for her room. "I'll get the tarot cards and the runes," she said over her shoulder.

"Thanks, Darby, but, I'm good too," Devon said as he reached forward opening the laptop in front of him.

Rowan came back to the living room with a stack of books and a wooden box with a velvet pouch set on top. Darby came with the large leather bound book and a small wooden chest. As Darby re-appeared from the hallway, Rowan said, "I just thought of something. Devon, before you make reservations maybe we can bypass all this traveling and talk to your father directly."

They all turned to her. Blake said, "What do you mean, talk to him?"

"I mean we could summon his spirit here and maybe he can tell us first hand why Terrence Paine is on this rampage," Rowan explained.

"Can that be done?" Devon asked.

"We can certainly try. It would simplify things, but there are never any guarantees. Spirits are not always as helpful as you might think. However, this does involve his boys, which makes it very personal and that's a plus. That may give us the added edge to make it work," Rowan answered.

"How do you do it?" Blake asked, totally amazed by his beautiful witch.

Rowan smiled at his gaze and then continued. "We will need a photo of your father or something personal of his, so Darby and I can picture him. You and your brother can just visualize him in your minds. With the four of us, and maybe Harry, it might work."

"Harry?" said Blake and Devon in stereo. "The cat?" Blake continued.

"Yes, the cat! When you don't have a full coven of twelve witches, the more energy and focus you can get, the better. Besides, Harry will be involved in another spell later. He will be our personal James Bond. Harry is always around, inside and out—lurking in the bushes and what not. No one would think that Harry was an informant," Rowan explained.

"I certainly wouldn't. How does that work?" Devon asked.

"We'll all stand in a circle and concentrate on him and when the spell is complete. If in the next couple of days Harry sees something or someone out of the ordinary around here, he'll let us know," Rowan told him.

"How?" Blake asked.

"It can happen in many ways, a feeling, a mental image, I'm not really sure how it will manifest, but just try and be very aware of your feelings or thoughts. We will all feel it at the same time so if you are unsure of something, ask one of us if we feel it too. If we all have felt it, it was probably Harry trying to let us know something is up," Rowan explained.

"That's cool. I had no idea. When can we start?" Blake asked.

"I will make a list of things I'll need and we can get started this evening. It's a very good time for this. I checked my lunar charts last night and the moon is in its waxing phase tonight," Rowan said.

"What's a waxing phase? Is that when it's getting bigger or smaller? I can never remember the difference between waxing and waning," Blake asked.

"Waxing is when the moon is getting bigger, so it is gaining in strength. Because we are in June, we are also dealing with the Honey Moon. This is an opportune time to cast the problem solving spell, if we have time, and that should help us in figuring out how to solve this issue with Paine," Rowan explained.

Darby spread out a piece of black velvet fabric and a bunch of different stones in front of Blake. She said to him, "I would like you and Devon to look over these and see if any of them intrigue you. I know it seems odd, but think of it as something your body craves, something it needs. Often you will crave red meat if your body needs iron, or maybe milk if it needs vitamin D or Calcium. We don't always succumb to these cravings, but it is a way that our body tells us what it needs. It's the same with the stones. Your mind will point you towards the stone or stones that it feels it needs. Pick it up and see if you feel any connection to it—a vibration or a warmth.

"If you find one or more that you feel drawn to, keep them in your pocket. They can add to your strengths and help you with your weaknesses. I also have some pre-made charm bags that we can use. These will give you added protection, power, and psychic abilities." Darby handed the tiny pouches to each of them. "Hopefully, the psychic one will help us all connect better, especially since Rowan and I are still learning."

"What's in them?" Devon asked opening his and peering in.

"Cinquefoil, barberry root, black haw, pennyroyal, celery seed, and hemite for power; eyebright, mandrake, hibiscus, mugwort, moonstone, and clear quartz for added psychic powers; and clove, juniper berries, nettles leaf, Solomon's seal root, St. John's wort, belladonna, agate, and citrine for protection," Darby answered.

"All that in these little things? Sweet! Thanks, Darby," Blake said.

"I can't have anything happening to any of us. You're my family now, you and your brother, as much as Rowan," Darby said and grabbed Devon's hand.

"Here is a list of things I'm going to need for tonight," Rowan said as she set the list on the coffee table.

"Great. You need to do some preparations, right Rowan?" Darby asked.

"Yes, a few things," Rowan said.

"Devon, would you be willing to get the things Rowan needs for tonight?" Darby asked, looking at him. She continued, "I think everything on the list can be picked up at the bookstore. Don't tell Allison who you are. The less she knows, the safer she is."

"Absolutely. I'll also try and find a picture next door," Devon added.

"Be careful. I really think it's best if you hop the fence and go in the back. Paine's men may be watching the front." She tossed him her keys. "I know it's not as nice as your car, but they could be watching. We need to be very careful from now on. My car is in the garage. You can get in it without going outside. The garage opener is on the visor. After this, no more separating, okay? We are safer together—as a team."

"Good thinking," Devon said.

Darby turned to him and hugged him tightly, "Please be careful, I can't live without you."

"I promise." He kissed her forehead.

"Blake, while he is doing that, can we practice?"

"Definitely. Let's do it," Blake said, then turned to Rowan and pulled her close, hugging her tightly and kissing the top of her head. "If you need me, we will be in the backyard. You yell and I will be here before you finish."

"I'll be fine," Rowan smiled.

"Promise me." Blake pushed.

"I promise," Rowan said.

"Okay, Darby let's go," Blake said.

Darby followed him. "So what do I need to do?"

"From what you told us, it seemed as if anger was a component in bringing your power forward. Try to focus on the anger you felt when the light came to you," Blake explained.

"Yes—shock, sadness, and then anger," Darby remembered.

"Okay, hold on to that anger and add the sadness of losing him. Imagine those emotions as a ball of light you're filling with these emotions. You see it gaining more light as it fills. Once you see that, open your eyes and hold that ball of light between you and me, in your palm.

"You've filled this ball with the power of your emotions and now you will use it to protect yourself. Think of it as a shield or a bubble, what ever best suits your needs. It is impenetrable; your life depends upon it.

"Guide the energy down your arm and out the palm of your hand. Visualize it forming around you and preventing any infiltration.

"Can you see it? Feel its power?" he asked.

"I think so," she said. Her hand ached dully as she held it trying to think on all the instructions put to her.

"I'm going to stand across the yard. When you feel you are ready, open your eyes and tell me with your mind. Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?" Blake said and then chuckled.

"Sure...okay," she said, focusing, and closed her eyes trying to clear her mind of everything but what she felt when the bolt of the crossbow hit Devon. She heard Blake head away from her. She pictured Max in her mind. She thought about him aiming the crossbow at Devon, its bolt sailing in slow motion towards him, and the terror of losing him that washed over her. She tried to lock on to that feeling and she did see a ball form in front of her though it was not as bright as before. She thought to Blake, _I'm ready._ Her palm tingled with tiny zaps of popping electricity giving it a dull ache.

It was hard to juggle both energy of the emotion and speaking to Blake telepathically, but it must have worked because she was sure she heard Blake's voice whisper to her, _Good,_ as if he were standing right behind her. She opened her eyes and held up her hand towards Blake.

She tried to visualize the bubble forming around her. She heard Blake's voice in her head, _Good. You're doing well_. A smell of ozone filled the air and the popping of electricity sounded differently. It was like she was in a small room with noises bouncing every direction. She still heard birds and a car pass by, but they were muffled as if she was in a bubble. Had she done it? Had she made a bubble of protective magic from her emotions?

Blake took a step forward, felt nothing, and took another step. He felt the electricity in the air, the tension, but no wall or pushing force. He took another step forward and said to her, "Picture me as Max; I'm coming to kill Devon and you will never, ever be with him again." Darby's anger rose, fueling the bubble with brightness and more rigidity.

He felt the field push towards him. "I'm Max. I've just killed Devon and now I'm going to kill you," Blake said.

She tensed and the muscles in her neck tightened as she focused the bubble outward toward him. She saw his hands rest upon the bright outline of the bubble and bowing in at his touch, like rubber.

"That's good," she heard him say. "It wouldn't stop me but it would certainly slow me down. Now, not only am I going to kill you, but I'm going to kill your sister."

Heat rushed up her neck and face in fear and anger and Blake's hand popped out of the indentation of the bubble as the outline of the balloon brightened.

Blake pushed on the bubble but it did not move. He ran at it and it bumped him back a good two steps or more. "Great, hold that feeling; remember this in your mind. When you're in trouble form your bubble. With practice you will be able to extend your bubble around others.

Okay, now slowly release the energy—imagine Devon sitting up and he's okay and relax the tension, feel it dissipating." The crackling of the energy subsided as the wall against him dissolved.

_"_ Oh, boy...I feel weird," Darby said. Just as the words left her mouth everything around her went gray and she heard Blake's voice, but the words were incoherent, moving farther away until there was nothing.

**Chapter 10**

Darby woke on the grass. Everything was extremely bright and her head throbbed something terrible. Blake was over her, saying something, but she couldn't understand. She heard Devon's voice clear as a bell.

"Darby," he said. He sounded like he was in a small room, his voice echoing. Had the bubble not gone away? Was he in the bubble with her?

"Darby, it's me. Can you hear me? Darby, it's me, Devon. Wake up, Darby!"

"Devon, Devon, hold me!" she pleaded. His arms wrapped around her and his strength poured into her. She saw his face and Blake's too. Blake looked worried and overcome with guilt. Darby looked at Blake and raised her hand to his face. "It's okay, Blake. I'm all right. You didn't do anything wrong. I guess I let go too fast or something."

She knew Devon was distraught. She didn't have to see him; she felt it. She looked up at him and said, "Really, it's not his fault. Everything is fine. I've just never exercised my mind like that. Can you help me up?" Darby asked.

"Are you sure you are okay?" Devon pushed.

"Yes, yes, I'm okay," she said as Devon led her through the kitchen and down the hall.

"Can I help you," Blake said reaching to take Darby's other arm.

"No, I've got it," Devon said sternly and Blake shrank at his tone.

"Stop that. This isn't Blake's fault, Devon. Please. He couldn't have known I'd react the way I did," Darby pleaded as they made it to the living room.

"You're right. Sorry, Blake," Devon said. "I just..."

"No problem—I'm not sure what I would do if it had been Rowan—I get it."

"All right," Darby said as she and Devon sat down on the couch. She latched on to him and kissed him, "Thank you." Then she whispered, "I love you."

"What happened?" Rowan asked entering the room.

"I don't know. It was like using a muscle you don't normally use. I just overdid it—not used to it."

"Do you feel okay now?" Rowan asked.

"Yeah, I'm good," she said. She also sent out a thought to Devon _. I'm okay, but please stay close to me; I feel stronger when you are touching me_.

_I'm not leaving you—ever_ — _I promise,_ he said to her with his mind.

Blake said as he sat down, "She's amazing...she put up a wall I don't think an elephant could have charged through. I think it was just too much, too soon. I'm so sorry, Darby."

"Please, Blake. Don't be sorry. We need to know where we stand—what I'm capable of, and it worked. I feel now, that if I have to, I can protect myself and maybe others."

"But at what cost?" Devon argued.

"Oh, come on, Devon. If I can keep all four of us out of harm's way for a few minutes and all it costs is me passing out for a couple of minutes? I think it's worth it. I was in no danger, just a little exhausted. With practice, it will get better."

"As long as you were in no danger," said Devon.

"That's right...okay, Rowan, you are up. Are we ready?" Darby said.

"Yah. The sun has gone down. Now would be a good time to start. I think we should attempt the summoning first," Rowan said.

Rowan handed a pink candle to Blake along with a small pocketknife. "I need you to carve your father's name into the candle for me."

"Okay," Blake replied.

Rowan handed the other three white candles and two small pocketknives to Darby and Devon. "I need you two to carve 'spiritual realm' into the white candles."

"No problem," Darby said, handing one candle and a knife to Devon.

Harry decided too much fun was being had without him, plus those candles looked like they might be amusing to roll off the table. After several averted attempts by Darby, Harry settled in on the couch next to her and watched.

Rowan anointed the candlesticks with sandalwood oil and rolled them in lavender. She lit a piece of charcoal and placed it in a bowl with rosemary incense. The four candles were placed in a circle on the coffee table.

Rowan asked, "Do you have a personal object or picture of your father?"

Devon pulled a picture out of his back pocket and handed it to Rowan who set it in the middle of the table and lit the pink candle in front of it.

She said, "Here shines Nathaniel Bloomington before me, in divine glory bathed in an aura of love. I request your presence in the here and now for we seek to communicate with you."

Then she lit the three white candles around the pink candle in the form of a triangle, with one on top and two below. She continued:

"Power of witches' rise

Course unseen across the skies

Come to us, who call you near

Come to us and settle here

Blood to blood, I summon thee

Blood to blood, return to me

Nathaniel Bloomington, your sons do seek

To stop the havoc Terrence Paine now wreaks."

All four concentrated on the picture of Nathaniel Bloomington. After a few minutes the candles flickered and in front of them, above the four candles on the coffee table, they saw a distortion that quickly grew stronger and brighter. After a second or two, a face appeared amongst the fog that hovered above them.

Rowan nodded at Devon. Devon stood to engage with the apparition and Blake followed his lead.

"Dad? It's Devon. Blake is here too. Can you hear us?"

The face in the fog seemed to get clearer and nodded towards Devon.

"Dad? Terrence Paine is," Devon paused, "is trying to kill us."

Blake interrupted, "Dad, he nearly killed Devon two nights ago."

The fog stirred and seemed agitated.

"Dad," Devon said, "Can you tell us why he is trying to kill us? Why he killed you and Mom?"

"Is there some way we can stop him?" Blake added.

The apparition hovered and stirred. Then it became more distinct. Slowly, a very handsome man with his sons' smile appeared. He looked at Devon and then turned to Blake. The pride he felt for his boys could be seen on his face.

"My boys—such strong men you have become. Your mother and I have missed you both so much."

"Dad, I don't know how much time we have. We need to talk about Terrence Paine. Why is he trying to kill us? Is there anything we can do? Is there anything you can tell us?" Devon implored.

"Terrence Paine was an aristocrat I worked with in Maine in the 1950s. He and his wife had a son who was born with a congenital heart defect. They were informed by the doctor that the boy would be lucky to see his thirteenth birthday. At the time, there was nothing that could be done.

"He somehow came to know I was a vampire, though I'm not sure how. In his desperation, he came to me and begged me to turn his son, but I explained to him that given his son's declining health, that the transformation itself would most likely kill the boy. I explained that turning a human was not an exact science—many things could go wrong. There was the added difficulty that I had never attempted such a thing and wasn't exactly sure how to do it. I also explained to him that the boy he knew would not necessarily be the boy he would become. I knew Terrence could not handle a young made-vampire.

"He argued that I showed no animalistic traits or craving, to which I explained the differences between made and born vampires. I felt I would be dooming him and his own to death, making an already sad state of affairs worse. I refused him and, as you can imagine, he did not take it well.

"He went mad with a rage I'd never seen among men. A year later his son died and the night after they lay him to rest, Terrence Paine showed up on our doorstep.

"You and your brother were, thankfully, visiting your Uncle Dominic in Connecticut. Catching us off guard, he staked me in the chest, leaving me paralyzed, then, he whispered into my ear that he would find and kill you boys, as I had surely killed his, then beheaded me before I was able to warn your mother. Terrence Paine found her in bed and beheaded her in her sleep.

"Now you say he has attempted to kill Devon? I'm so sorry, boys. I always hoped after killing your mother and me, his thirst for revenge would have been quenched. Apparently, I underestimated the man's capacity for vengeance."

"It's not your fault, Dad. You had no way of knowing what he would do. Can you think of any way we can defeat him? A weakness? Information? Something we can use against him? Anything you can remember that might help?" Devon asked.

"I'm sorry, boys, I barely knew the man. I wish I could help more," he said with great disappointment.

"It's all right," Devon said. "You've told us a lot more than we knew this morning. If it weren't for these two beautiful girls we wouldn't be speaking to you now. I can't speak for Blake, but I'd would like to introduce you to someone who has become an integral part of my life in just a matter of days and I hope to be lucky enough to spend the rest of my life with her. Dad, this is Darby O'Rielly." He bent down to take Darby's hand to stand her beside him.

Nathaniel bowed towards Darby and smiled.

Blake said pulling Rowan up from the couch to his side, "And Dad, this is Rowan O'Rielly. She's become pretty important to me too. They're very powerful witches, both in their own special ways and we hope with their powers and our strength, we can overthrow Terrence Paine and his thugs."

Nathaniel turned towards Rowan and bowed a greeting to her. "I'm honored to meet you, Darby and Rowan. I sense you both care for my boys almost as much as their mother and I do. They are lucky indeed. I wish, though, you hadn't been drawn into this mess with Mr. Paine."

Darby spoke, "The honor is ours, sir!" She looked at Rowan and back at Mr. Bloomington. "I think I speak for my sister, as well, in saying we feel truly blessed to have found these two gentle and kind souls in your sons. Both are very different from the other, but both are loving and honorable, just the same. It reflects a great compliment to you and your wife, in who you both are and how you raised your sons. They are gifts we both treasure and thanks can only be given to you, their parents, so thank you, Mr. Bloomington and please extend our thanks to your wife." She bowed her head to him and Rowan did the same.

"My wife, Abby, would have adored you two. Boys, heed my advice. Don't ever take these two for granted. You don't find beautiful girls such as these just anywhere. Cherish them. A wonderful woman by your side for eternity is all a man can ever hope for, and these two are beyond extraordinary. Watch out for one another and don't let these girls slip through your fingers."

With that, the smiling man started to disappear and as he did, the four candles blew out. They all stood there quiet for a moment. Blake and Devon, with their arms around their beautiful witches, thought hard on the words their departed father sent them. Darby sensed their sadness in seeing him go, but she could also tell they treasured the words they shared with their father. What a gift they had received. With all their strength, speed, and ability to heal, none of these traits offered them such priceless gifts, like the wisdom and presence of their father.

Devon turned to Rowan and said, "Thank you so much, Rowan. Speaking to him after all this time was more than I could have ever hoped for."

Blake, too, turned to her and kissed her hard and said, "Really and truly, thank you. You are amazing!"

She blushed for just a second and said, "The pleasure was all mine. I now see where you both get your good looks and that devilish smile."

Darby laughed and looked at her sister as she hugged Devon. She mouthed to her sister, _thank you._

Rowan nodded and mouthed, _love you._

Darby focused and thought hard towards her sister and thought, _Love you too, Rowan!_

By the look on her sister's face, Darby could tell Rowan had heard it. Rowan smiled and said, "That is cool. Blake, you've got to teach me that!"

The guys looked at her, confused for a moment, and then laughed.

"Well, I guess there is no need to go to Ireland. I can't imagine there's anything there that your father hasn't already conveyed to us," Darby said.

"Definitely, but aside from knowing why, we still don't know what's the best way to stop all of this," Devon said.

Rowan said, "Well, I hate to say it, but someone that angry and so far over the deep end is probably not going to be up for a little sit down to talk this through."

"I suppose not, which means the only way to stop him is to do it permanently," Devon said.

They all grimaced at that thought. "But we don't know if there is anyone else involved," Darby said.

"What do you mean?" Blake asked.

"Is there anyone else that Paine is working with? I mean, is Paine the top of the ladder, so to speak, or is there someone higher?" she said.

"For as personal as this is, I would expect it is confined to just Paine and his thugs. The only reason Paine would tell anyone about this is if he had a different agenda. No, I think he has limited resources in his ability to track us. We've traveled quite extensively since our parents died and I think now that we have settled, he is just catching up," Devon surmised.

"Makes sense to me," Rowan said. "If this was a bigger plan, with more people involved, it would be more organized and they would have caught up with you sooner."

"I guess that is a good thing," Devon remarked.

"Sure it is. I think if we take out Paine, this will all go away. The thugs have no beef against you and your brother. If their paycheck goes away, then they just move on to the next crazy guy willing to pay them," Rowan speculated.

"Then I think the best way to take care of Paine is to go to him. He'd never expect us. He just thinks we'll continue to run from his thugs," Devon hypothesized.

"Right, and while his thugs are here looking for us, we will be in Maine taking care of Paine," Blake chimed in.

"So is there any way we do this without taking him out, so to speak?" asked Darby.

"I doubt it would do any good, but we could try. If we could trap him somehow and explained what would have happened to his son if your father had changed him, maybe he would understand. At least that way we could say we tried to reason with him before we took him out. Having lost our parents and you yours, it's just, well, life is precious, no matter who or what you are," Rowan said.

"I think it's worth a shot," Blake agreed.

It was unanimous. They had a plan.

**Chapter 11**

"I think we still have a couple of things to do before we call it a night. I'd like to enchant Harry," Rowan said. "Blake, can you bring the lighter along with the green, blue, yellow, and red candles to the backyard? Darby, could you get Harry and bring him outside?"

"Sure."

Rowan went into the backyard. She set an altar cloth on the grass and said, "Blake, the green one goes here to the north to represent the Earth."

Blake set the candle down where Rowan pointed. "Great," Rowan said. "The yellow one goes here to the east and represents air."

Blake set the yellow candle where Rowan directed. "Perfect," Rowan said. "The red one goes here to the south and represents fire, and the blue one goes there to the west and represents water." Blake set the candles down where Rowan had advised.

"Thank you, sweetie," she said giving him a kiss on the cheek.

With her athame in one hand and a lighter in the other, Rowan entered the circle made by the candles.

Blake whispered to Darby, "What's she going to do with that knife?"

"It's an athame; a ceremonial knife. It's just used as a symbol, she's not going to do anything bad with it," she answered jabbing him in the ribs.

Rowan then drew a large circle in the dirt around the candles with her athame and entered the circle near the yellow candle due east. She said, "Let it be known that the circle is about to be cast. All who enter the circle may do so in perfect love and perfect trust."

Darby instructed the guys to stand outside the circle with her. Rowan continued moving clockwise around the circle, carrying the lighter following the directions in the Book of Shadows.

At the yellow candle she stopped, lit it while reading from the book: "Guardians of the East, I call upon you to watch over the rites of the O'Rielly Coven. Powers of knowledge and wisdom, guided by Air, we ask that you keep watch over us tonight within this circle. Let all who enter the circle under your guidance do so in perfect love and perfect trust."

Rowan moved to the red candle, lighting its wick. She repeated the chant and the candle lighting for each direction. South brought powers of energy and will guided by fire, West gave powers of passion and emotion guided by water. North shared powers of endurance and strength guided by earth.

Next, Rowan nodded to Darby who took out the piece of paper Rowan had written instructions for her on and whispered to the boys, "Follow me—Do and say as I do." Darby entered the circle with Harry in her arms and a yellow candle in her hand. Rowan asked her, "How do you enter the circle?"

Darby answered, "In perfect love and perfect trust." Rowan nodded to her. Darby nodded to Blake who answered Rowan's question exactly as Darby, followed by Devon. When they were inside the circle Rowan closed it with her athame. Rowan nodded to Darby. Darby read her notes and motioned to Blake and Devon that they should sit in a circle. Darby then handed the yellow candle to Rowan. She lit the candle and set it in front of her. With Harry in Darby's lap facing Rowan, Rowan recited:

"I call upon the power of Athena

The Goddess of Knowledge and Wisdom

Give us the power I do beseech

Teach this feline the gift of speech

Give to Harry a voice both audible and clear

A feeling or an utterance that all or one can hear

This spell we cast will only last

until the full moon's crest has passed.

When dangers gone his voice release

Then we all shall live in peace.

Three times three, so mote it be

Three times three, so mote it be

Three times three, so mote it be."

She leaned forward, picked up Harry, gave him a big hug, and said, "Thanks be to Athena."

Next she tapped Harry on the head three times between the ears and said:

"Tail of rat,

Wing of bat,

Harry the cat

Will now chit chat!"

Rowan continued, "Harry, we need your help. There are strangers in the neighborhood, maybe snooping around Blake and Devon's house. We need your invisibility and stealth to keep us alerted to danger. These men are here to kill Blake and Devon and we can't have that, can we?" She pet Harry's chin and he purred in agreement. "If you see anything you think is unusual or out of the ordinary, we would like you to alert us, tell us something is not right or danger is near. Can you do that for us?" she asked. Harry purred.

Devon could have sworn he heard a _Yes_ and looked with a puzzled expression at his brother to see if he heard it too. Surprisingly, Blake turned to him as if asking the same thing. The girls smiled.

"Thank you, Harry, for your added power to our coven and your gracious help," Rowan said. Rowan handed Harry back to Darby and made a slashing motion at the edge of the drawn circle in a makeshift door. She exited the circle and one by one they followed. Darby set Harry down and gave him extra pets on the chin. He scampered away to the kitchen.

Rowan blew out the candles and took everything into the house and then they sat on the couches in the living room in silence.

Darby said, "Anybody hungry? How about some pizza? I'm starved." With all the excitement they hadn't realized they barely ate all day. Everybody seemed to answer at once so Darby grabbed the phone and called for delivery. While they were waiting, Devon got on the laptop and checked on flight times for them to go to Maine in the morning.

Darby announced, "Okay, pizzas will be here in about thirty minutes. In the meantime, do we know where specifically we are going in Maine?"

Devon answered Darby as she sat next to him on the couch and put her head on his shoulder. "Not really, but Dad said Paine was an aristocrat or from a well established family, so a Google search on the name should give us a few hits—maybe even a family home."

Devon went to the airline's site and found a couple of possibilities. After some debate on whether to take a red-eye flight or a morning flight, Devon was out-voted three to one for the morning flight. He also booked a hotel and reserved a car with a few keystrokes and the input of a credit card.

Next he did a Google search for Terrence Paine and found a hit for him in Cape Cottage, a few miles south of Portland on the Casco Bay. There was a huge home the Paines had lived in for generations. "That should be easy enough to find."

Darby stood and said, "I'm going to call Allison and see if she can take over this week and also if she can check in on Harry. Devon, can you take care of the pizza guy if he comes?"

"Sure—no problem."

Rowan got up telling Blake, "We're out of beer in the kitchen fridge. I'll go bring some in from the garage."

Darby sat on the bed and dialed Allison. She thought she heard an odd sound out back. Without any warning a black and white streak went shooting under the bed after nearly tearing off the kitty door.

Darby froze— _Danger_ was the word that jumped into her mind; she dropped the phone as she heard the doorbell ring and someone knocked. She ran for the hallway as Devon started to open the door. He turned back spying Darby in a panic running down the hallway, yelling 'Danger' with her mind.

Nothing registered. Devon looked down just in time to see the fur ball go flying out the front door. The word _Danger_ popped into his mind. Blake stood, when Darby's yelling registered. Devon crouched into a position a panther might take if danger were to knock at his front door and Blake was behind him ready to pounce.

The door swung open with a squeak to reveal a nervous, teenage boy about to drop the pizza boxes in his hands. His voice cracked when he said, "Pizza?" nervously looking at Devon. He had a goofy looking pizza on his hat that wiggled to and fro on a wire like a halo. He nearly threw the pizza at Devon when he asked, "how much?"

Devon pulled out his wallet and paid the kid, tipping him very well. The kid looked at him as if he were a Klingon from _Star Trek_ , but he ripped the money out of his hand and squealed the tires of the pizza van.

Devon chuckled to himself revisiting the kid's expression when he opened the door. He looked at Darby, Darby looked at him, and Blake broke the silence with, "What was that all about?"

"I don't know, but it was very clear when Harry went shooting down the hall that he was trying to relay some kind of danger."

Blake agreed, "Yeah, I felt it too— _Danger_."

Devon nodded.

Darby asked, "Where's Rowan?"

Blake answered, "Bringing in beer from the garage."

Darby's eyes widened. "That's the direction Harry came when he tore into the house—" Before she finished her thought Blake's six foot four inch profile blurred past her. Devon was right behind him and Darby brought up the rear. They stood on the grass looking around the backyard, but there was nothing to see. No Rowan.

Darby said, "Devon, check the front yard, Blake check next door, I'll check the garage." The guys were gone like lightning. Darby called for Rowan as she looked in the garage to find nothing but their cars. She headed back to the yard seeing something sparkle on the ground in the moonlight. She picked up her mother's silver charm bracelet. It never left Rowan's wrist and the clasp was bent backward like it had been pulled off with force.

She held it in her hand focusing on it—on her sister. She tried to concentrate on Rowan, her long, pretty, wavy, blond hair and eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea. There was nothing. She couldn't see Rowan. She couldn't feel Rowan— _what was wrong? Was she unconscious? Where was she?_

Tears formed in her eyes.

"I ran a couple of blocks in all directions, and there is no sign of her. Can you sense her, like when you were little girls? Can you see where she is?" Devon asked. She shook her head and her tears spilled down her cheeks as she held out the bracelet.

Devon asked, "Is it hers?" She nodded and put her head to his chest and cried. "Oh my God, Devon, what's happened to her?" He held her close and didn't know what to say.

"I don't know, love, but I swear, we will find her," Devon said trying to comfort her.

"What good are these stupid powers if I can't keep my little sister safe?" she cried. He stroked her hair with one hand, and held her close with the other. Blake appeared from around the corner, looking like the wind had been knocked out of him. His face was white and his eyes were tearing as he handed a piece of plain computer paper to them. In what looked like chicken scratch the letter read:

_We've got your little blond neighbor. If you ever want to see her alive again, I suggest you turn yourselves over to us peacefully. Paine._

"Oh no," Darby said. Blake looked lost, helpless, and scared. Darby felt the same. She and Devon exchanged a knowing look and she went to Blake and held him. With her head on his Blake's chest, she looked to Devon and said without words— _What do we do, Devon? What do we do?_

"We give him what he wants," Devon said.

* * *

I hope you have enjoyed this Freebie. If you would like to read the rest of Blood of a Werewolf to find out what happens to Rowan, it can be purchased at most bookstores. Blood of a Werewolf is the first book of the Blood Series, which includes four other titles. The Bloomington brothers and the O'Rielly sisters make many friends along their way through the series. Join the fun!

**About the Author**

T. Lynne Tolles can be found most days, juggling one of two cat muses and a laptop, tripping over an ancient Newfoundland dog and washing a never-ending pile of laundry. When life doesn't get in the way, she writes paranormal romances for new adults.

Her passion for witches, ghosts, and vampires together with a light-hearted wit are reflected in her loveable characters and the adventures of mystery they unravel to find their happily ever after.

Website:

http://tlynnetolles.me

**Books by T. Lynne Tolles**

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**Blood Series**

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The Hunted: Prequel Novella to Blood of a Werewolf

Blood of a Werewolf

Blood Moon

Blood Lust

Bloodstone Heart

Deadman's Blood

Sisters In Blood

**Other Books**

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Somber Island

Mirror of Shadows

Finding Midnight: A Hellhound Tail
