Prophecy Unravelled- Heir Series Box Set Page 4

  She handed it over, trying to disguise her reluctance.

  Being here in the Dome was doing nothing to abate her apprehension, even if it was unrelated to her problem. Tension pulled at every muscle of her body. If only she hadn’t had to come here.

  But it would have taken days to reach Asherad on horseback.

  Mitch might not have that long.

  The vague feeling of unease she’d felt all morning had grown sharper as soon as she’d read the message, as though it finally took form in her mind.

  She fiddled with the piece of paper in her pocket, not needing to read it to remember the words on it. Its message had been brief, if cryptic.

  The boy is missing. The family is frantic.

  She knew what it meant. She knew exactly which boy it was referring to.

  As the official carefully examined the symbol engraved on the stone’s surface and compared it to his records, she made herself breathe deeply, glancing at her surroundings, hoping to find some of the peace they promised.

  Still, she couldn’t help a barely perceptible sigh of relief when the official nodded and handed the stone back. “You may continue on your way, Mage Salinga,” he allowed.

  Elizabeth smiled politely. “Thank you. I’m leaving again.”

  He nodded and stepped back.

  Elizabeth paused to take one last, deep breath, enjoying the freedom of drawing as much magic as she wished, before winking out of existence again.

  When she reappeared in a clearing in the forest just outside Asherad seconds later, the loss of magic hit her like a physical blow. It had taken over half of the energy she’d gathered within the Dome to rematerialise, and here there was no magic to restore the loss.

  Here, like everywhere else in Selenthia, the only magic available to her was her own. Once she’d used it, she’d have to wait for it to recharge. The feeling was surprisingly lonely.

  She’d made the teleport in and out enough times she should have been used to this by now, but each time, it was like being hit by a load of bricks.

  Luckily the clearing was unoccupied except for a small dog that barked at her, his hackles up, before streaking away. She’d chosen this place from hazy childhood memories of picking strawberries in the summer, remembering that it had always been deserted. She was slightly surprised to find that it hadn’t changed much in all these years.

  The fact that memories were already crowding at the edge of Elizabeth’s consciousness didn’t bode well for how this visit was going to go. Why was she even here? She’d decided long ago that no matter how much she’d changed, she couldn’t ever make up for what she’d done.

  This wasn’t about her though. She reached into her pocket, her fingers brushing the paper again. He needed her. She could feel it. The weight of that knowledge was like a heavy blanket over her shoulders, both weighing her down and warming her heart. It helped her push away her doubts.

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the trees and looked around, ignoring the next slew of memories.

  Instead she focused on her irritation that the stone only allowed teleportation of one living being through the force field, meaning she couldn’t bring Rianna with her. Now she’d have to walk.

  Luckily the few streets to the house she sought were even shorter than they had been as a child.

  The street had also changed little in the intervening years, and as she passed the house she’d grown up in, the swing she’d sat on as a child overgrown and obviously no longer used, her eyes were drawn to the house next door, where she’d moved as an adult.

  Its roof was a shade of orange now, the beautiful red bleached by years in the sun, the smooth adobe walls now covered in ivy. Despite the small changes, she was taken back instantly.

  The sun shining through the windows, the baby playing on the rug, her laughter ringing in the air. George, bending over to kiss her on his way out the door to work.

  Panic at being back here, being trapped in a life that wasn’t right, warred with a sadness that the time was gone. Doubts mingled with too many painful memories.

  She should just leave. What was she doing here anyway, after so long?

  She’d known this was going to be hard, coming back, but she hadn’t stopped to consider just how hard. And dealing with these ancient memories was minor compared to her fears of walking up there and knocking on that door and coming face to face with her family.

  Whatever else she was, Elizabeth wasn’t a coward. She prided herself on being able to face up to anyone who came at her, with a knife, a sword, or even magic.

  That was easy.

  She had little fear of death, in fact, sometimes she wondered if she’d welcome it.

  This though, was where her real fear lay.

  She had no idea what sort of a reception she was going to get, probably a door slammed in her face.

  Yet she had to try.

  She couldn’t add yet another thing to the list of actions she’d never forgive herself for.

  Taking a deep breath and not allowing herself any more time to think about it, she opened the gate, walked up the path and knocked on the door.

  She waited, heart still thudding in her chest, but there was no answer. Elizabeth hesitated, then knocked again.

  Still no answer. No one was home.

  Her heartrate slowed a little.

  She was tempted to take this as a sign that she should just go home and comfort herself with the thought she’d made the effort. Yet, she’d come all this way, certain that there was something only she could do, something she had to do. She couldn’t give up now.

  But where were they?

  There was only one answer. The Salinga offices.

  The walk was short enough that she could distract herself from any further thoughts of backing out. She paused briefly on the first step of the imposing, two story brick building, realising with a touch of wry humour that she’d never actually been inside. She’d walked past often enough, even leaned on the lamp post on the corner waiting for George to finish work, that it felt intimately familiar.

  But going inside?

  Strangely, this bothered her less than going to the house had. She might not have been important enough to be part of their little hierarchy back then, but these days she didn’t give a damn about things like that.

  Even so, as she climbed the half flight of stairs, a nervous, schoolgirlish feeling fluttered in her stomach. She bit back a laugh. Seemed old habits died hard, no matter how many years it had been and how much she’d changed.

  These memories though, weren’t even enough to make her pause as she pushed open the door and walked inside, leaving her hesitation outside with her memories.

  The young woman behind the desk looked up and asked in a surprised voice, “Can I help you?”

  Obviously they didn’t get too many visitors walking in off the street.

  “Yes. I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge,” Elizabeth said firmly.

  The woman looked her up and down, her nose wrinkling.

  Elizabeth winced, imagining the picture she presented for the first time. A few moments to brush her hair, not to mention finding a shirt not covered in dust and bloodstains, or crumpled from being tossed on the floor, might have been worth the delay.

  “I believe she’s busy right now,” the woman said firmly. “Perhaps I can find someone else to help you?”

  That was exactly the sort of attitude that had made Elizabeth back off when she was younger. She’d always apologised, and retreated to wait outside.

  Now it didn’t even make her pause. “No, thank you,” she said. “I need to see Jocelyn. She’s in charge these days, isn’t she? I really think it would be in her best interests to make a few minutes to see me.”

  The woman looked at Elizabeth searchingly, her knowledge of the family causing her to reconsider her first impression. “If you’d like to give me your name, I’ll pass it on to her,” she said grudgingly.

  “Elizabeth Salinga. I’m here about Mit
chell.”

  The woman’s eyes widened with surprise, although whether it was from her name or Mitchell’s, Elizabeth was unsure. She even offered Elizabeth a seat before leaving the room in a hurry.

  While she was waiting, Elizabeth reviewed the meagre information she could recall about Jocelyn.

  Born the year after she had left, her sister Cassandra’s only child had never married. In fact, she’d done very little remarkable in her life until, for some reason that her informant had been uncertain of, she’d suddenly been catapulted from nobody to the head of the family business. Then she’d apparently shown a shrewd business sense that had impressed even Evelyn, the family matriarch.

  Yet despite Jocelyn’s quick adjustment to the position she hadn’t expected to inherit, she’d never had a child. That was the bit that was most surprising of all. Since inheritance of the ruling position was passed down through the matriarchal line, it was almost a requirement that any Salinga woman in power provide the family with a female heir to carry on the name.

  Perhaps she had been unable to conceive? Or perhaps she’d defied the tradition?

  In some ways, Elizabeth hoped Jocelyn had defied the tradition. Perhaps that would mean she’d be more open to dealing with another who hadn’t fitted into the Salinga mould.

  Chapter 5 - Reunion

  Gemma barely noticed the hardness of the tall backed chairs as she stared at her Aunt Jocelyn across the large, wooden table. Jocelyn talked quickly, her severe bun bobbing as if to emphasize each word.

  No matter how hard Gemma tried to pay attention to what she was saying, all she could think of was Mitch. Was he alone somewhere? Hurt?

  Dead?

  Her mind and heart shied away from that thought. Mitch had to be all right. She just had to find her son, so she could pull him close and never let him go. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes.

  He was only fifteen. He had so much of his life still ahead of him.

  Luckily, Jocelyn wasn’t really talking to her. She was focused on the three men sitting opposite her. Gemma didn’t know them, but they had to work for Jocelyn. They would be the ones who searched for and found Mitch. She hoped.

  They didn’t inspire confidence. One was small and weedy, watching everything with beady eyes. One looked like he’d come straight from a bar brawl. Only the third one seemed like he might be able to string two coherent sentences together.

  Gemma tried not to let the apprehension overwhelm her.

  Jocelyn was concerned about finding Mitch too of course, but not because he was Gemma’s son. She only saw him as the Salinga heir. Being childless herself, she didn’t understand what it was like to be a mother who’d lost her only child.

  He was the only family Gemma still had left. After her sister and niece and nephew had died in a house fire three years ago, they’d grown even closer. If only Jocelyn had never made him her heir. Then none of this would have happened.

  “Amily is the next in line, so she has the motivation…” Jocelyn stopped mid-sentence when someone quietly knocked on her door. “Come in,” she said curtly.

  Gemma wanted to scream at the interruption. Why were they still talking? Why weren’t they out looking for Mitch?

  “Ms Salinga, there’s a lady here to see you.” Her secretary looked uncertain.

  Jocelyn frowned. “Yes, who is it?”

  Gemma had to bite her lip to stop the protest forming. What did it matter who it was? They had more important things to do right now.

  “She says she’s Elizabeth Salinga. And that she’s here about Mitchell.”

  Gemma’s heart froze. It couldn’t be…

  Fifty years she’d been gone, give or take. But there couldn’t be another Elizabeth Salinga, could there?

  What was her mother doing here? Now? After all this time. And what did it have to do with Mitchell? How had she even known?

  Gemma shook her head. She couldn’t deal with this now. She needed to focus on finding Mitch. But she’d said she was here about Mitch… maybe she knew something?

  “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while,” Jocelyn said thoughtfully.

  She glanced over at Gemma, and there was no missing the calculating look. No sympathy either, not from Jocelyn. She was just wondering how they could turn this to their advantage. She’d probably already been distracted from finding Mitch.

  Gemma tried not to glare bitterly back at her cousin. She needed Jocelyn’s help to find Mitchell. It was probably her fault he was missing anyway. It had to have something to do with him being the heir.

  Jocelyn’s eyes turned back to her secretary. “Send her in.”

  Gemma could barely breathe as everyone waited in silence.

  She’d imagined her mother returning far too often as a young girl and given the circumstances in which she’d left, all she’d felt was apprehension. Now, she didn’t even feel that. She was too upset by Mitch’s disappearance to be able to really concentrate on her mother’s appearance.

  Especially since the two appeared to be linked in some way.

  As if that wasn’t enough, Jocelyn’s men were all staring at her. They had no idea who her mother was, she was pretty sure, but apparently her reaction was enough to interest them.

  Gemma wished Jocelyn would send them away, but she didn’t dare ask her to.

  When the door opened abruptly, the sight was enough to jolt her out of her focus.

  She couldn’t help staring as memories came flooding back. She’d been just a baby, not even walking yet and even Tasha had been surprised she remembered that day. Yet seeing her mother, it was as clear as if it were yesterday.

  “Tasha, get away from your sister! What do you think you’re doing?” her mother yelled. She snatched the inkpot her sister had been drawing on her with out of her hand and smacked her, anger in her voice.

  Tasha began to cry and, not understanding what was going on, Gemma cried too.

  Her mother stared around the room, an expression Gemma now realised was desperation on her face, and then suddenly everything was hot and orange.

  Her mother tore frantically at the curtains that were covered in a sheet of orange Gemma now knew was fire and her and her sister’s wails split the air.

  Moments later, only grey smoke issuing from the smouldering curtains, her mother whisked her up and, dragging Tasha by the hand, fled next door to Grandma’s.

  Grandma cuddled Gemma and some of her fear had faded away. Not all of it though. Grandma was worried, she could tell.

  Her mother’s voice was unnaturally high, and even Grandma couldn’t get her to stop talking so fast.

  Then suddenly, her mother was calm. She turned to Gemma and kissed her, then kissed Tasha too.

  “Never forget that Mamma loves you,” she’d said.

  And that was the last time Gemma had ever seen her.

  Until now.

  “Mamma?” she said in disbelief, the childish name tripping from her tongue automatically.

  It was not surprising her memory was so clear. The woman standing in front of her barely looked a day older than she had that day.

  It was like the intervening years hadn’t existed.

  Elizabeth stared at her daughter, tears pricking the back of her eyes. The woman standing in front of her was in her fifties, or rather, had celebrated her fiftieth birthday only weeks before. Her blonde hair was streaked with grey, and the wrinkles around her eyes showed that she laughed often, though right now her expression showed only strain.

  Elizabeth struggled with her own shock at seeing her daughter’s age. She’d known of course, theoretically, but facing it was another thing altogether. It was one of the reasons she’d avoided coming back here for so long.

  Being a mage set her apart from her family, just as it always had.

  As if she’d just realised the same thing, Gemma recoiled back, saying in a more adult voice, “You can’t be my mother, you’re too young. Who are you?”

  So much to explain, and all of it would get
in the way of why she was here. To find Gemma’s son. Her grandson.

  “It’s me, Gemma. I promise,” she said gently.

  The disbelief on her daughter’s face didn’t change. She shook her head. “No, you can’t be…” Her understanding of the world as she knew it warred with the evidence in front of her eyes. “But… you look just like her.”

  And she burst into tears.

  Elizabeth felt an overwhelming urge to pull her close and comfort her. But she hadn’t been able to do it when Gemma was a baby. Why should she be able to now?

  More to the point, she had no right. She’d relinquished that long ago.

  “You can’t possibly be Elizabeth Salinga,” Jocelyn said firmly, her lips tight. “Elizabeth would be at least seventy by now, I doubt you're even thirty. You can’t possibly expect us to believe you.”

  She didn’t expect them too. But she did need to convince them. Jocelyn at least. She needed her cousin to let her help find Mitch. Without her help, she wouldn’t even know where to start.

  “Gemma does, don’t you, Gemma?” Elizabeth turned back to her daughter.

  Gemma hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “You must be. There’s no other explanation for how you look so exactly like her. But how are you so young?”

  Elizabeth hesitated. If Gemma remembered her so clearly, then there was a good chance she remembered the day she’d left as well. She didn’t want to frighten her daughter, but there was no other way to explain.

  “I’m a mage.”

  The words hung in the air. Every pair of eyes in the room was on her.

  The only ones Elizabeth cared about at all were Gemma’s. And the look of horror and fear on her face said it all. Her daughter was afraid of her. Possibly even hated her. And she deserved it all.

  Elizabeth’s throat constricted, and for the first time in a long time, she felt tears well up in the back of her eyes.

  Why had she come here? Why had she thought she had any chance of actually helping Gemma? She should have stayed well away. Her daughter had managed just fine without her all this time, why did Elizabeth think this was any different?