Page 43 of Resurrecting the Witch
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been dead in the ground for a few hundred years until you mysteriously awoke on Samhain last year?”
“Yes. It’s all true.”
“Do you know how you woke up?”
Patrick pondered the question, continuing to stir the sauce as I refilled our wine glasses, polishing off the bottle. “It’s bothered me to no end, but no, I don’t know how. I assumed it was the witches that found me, but they told me they had only felt the powerful magick and came to investigate. They were so anxious and wanted to get me over here to HOMES as quick as possible. Since I’ve been here, I’ve been struggling with finding anything out. Dr. Luna and I have been focusing more on what I do now instead of dwelling on it, but I can’t help but wonder if someone had nefarious plans when they brought me back.” Patrick’s eyes darkened as he said it out loud, voicing my own fears.
With how many enemies he must have made as Lady Orla’s witch-hunting assassin I would imagine a lot of folks, witch and fae and orc alike, probably wanted him dead in some capacity. But would they have brought him back for more revenge?
“When I woke up, the Ó Sullivan Coven found me, brought me back to health, and then said they found me a place here with HOMES and I didn’t have much of a choice but to accept.”
He shrugged and brought a spoonful of sauce over for me to try. He looked at me with a sensuality I had only experienced since meeting him as he silently demanded I open my mouth for him. I did, obviously, and then tasted the heavenly tomatoey goodness exploding on my taste buds.
“That’s a good girl.”
I moaned at his use of my new favorite phrase. I tasted each of my herbs in the sauce and the heat of it spread to every limb. Or maybe that was the wine. Or him praising me with his filthy use ofgood girl, as if the phrase weren’t something innocent, but instead naughty and laced with dirty promises he’d make come true later.
“I told you not to call me a good girl, Patrick,” I said with no conviction. Judging by his smirk we both knew I was lying.
“You can say things with words but everything else about you tells me you like it when I call you my good girl,mo peata.” He was a cocky bastard. He also wasn’t wrong, and I didn’t know how I felt about that. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Again, with the demanding tone. He might have been goofy and a bit one-track mind at times, but he was also demanding and controlling and possessive and I already knew in my bones how well that would translate in the bedroom. “I’m thinking that I grew some kick ass herbs so I’m glad the order I dropped at Drew’s yesterday should be well received.”
“My little liar.” Patrick clicked his tongue and then turned to stir the sauce again.
Ignoring him calling me out, I started combining the lettuce and chopped veggies into a large bowl for our salad.
“I’m thinking that if you really knew my grandparents, then you already know they were the best judges of characters around. I’m thinking that only someone who knew Pops, or Fearghas as you knew him, could describe him the way you did. I’m also thinking that you assumed I would think witch killing is the worst thing imaginable, but you haven’t heard my own entire story yet, Patrick.” I took a deep breath and couldn’t look at him as I admitted the next part, the part only Guille, Lennox, Drew, and any who survived the attack knew about me. “I’ve killed so many witches, Patrick.”
Chapter 12
Istared at the beautiful female next to me and waited for her to continue.
“Witch killer used to be a term for someone I’d hate without cause. It’d make my blood thirsty and angry and filled with unending rage. Who could possibly kill a witch? Who could possibly look at a divinely gifted being, with bloodlines often ancient and powerful, someone connected to the goddess, the moon, and Earth herself and want them dead? Who could be so inherently evil as to kill a witch?” Cliona laughed. It wasn’t filled with humor, and instead a self-deprecating sound I didn’t like her making one bit, but I didn’t dare interrupt her.
“I asked all those questions until I met Hunter fucking Jacobs about six years ago. My mother introduced us.” I had wondered why her mother never came up, and I guessed I was about to find out. “He was cute in a plain sort of way, and I was lonely on this island. I wasn’t allowed to go into Vancouver or Seattle too often because I was the only grandchild and somehow was gifted from Bryg more than any of my aunties or uncles, more than my own mother.
“My mother had always been jealous of me, and for a little girl that was hard to understand. I felt unending love and encouragement from my grandparents and my aunts and uncles, but whenever I had to go back to my mother’s apartment near Town Square I was met with disdain. She hated me, and I don’t say that to look for apologies or placations. She legitimately hated my very existence because Gran cared about me so much and because of my power and connection to her and our family’s magick.”
Cliona grabbed the tongs and started to mix the salad.
“Anyway, my mother was forced to leave the island when I was about ten years old for trying to drown me on the northern part of the island.” My fists clenched and I felt my eyes go entirely black at the thought of a mother killing her own child, let alone my mate.
“What do you mean, she tried to kill you?”
“Exactly that,” she said, shaking her head. “She said she had a fun day planned for us, which she’d never done before. She took me on a hike to a little cove and just threw me in, knowing I couldn’t swim. She left me there. If Mamma Adelaide and Papá Otto hadn’t been hiking nearby with the rest of the Hemlock pups, I doubted anyone would have heard me screaming. I would have drowned if Drew hadn’t jumped right in to save me.” She smiled at the thought of her friend saving her, and I made a note to figure out a way to thank Drew myself.
“Apparently they’d seen my mother running away from the cliff and made their own deductions. They returned to town and found my grandparents to tell them what happened immediately. I don’t remember a whole lot since I was still recovering and trying to get warm. I mostly remember Drew, Matteo, and Massimo keeping me company in Gran’s bedroom while we watched movies and snuggled together on the massive bed.
“The next thing I knew, my mother was gone and I was living with my grandparents. I got closer to my aunties and uncles at that point, especially with Auntie Neasa since she was my mother’s twin and felt especially awful about the whole thing, even though she was nothing like my mother.”
We had gotten off track, but I was glad Cliona had the rest of her family to comfort her when her mother was so vile. “What about your father?”
She scoffed. “He was a human from Seattle that my mother only slept with once and never called again. I have no idea what his name is or if he’s even still alive.”
“Feck me, that’s rough.” I didn’t know what else to say.
