Christopher sighed. He so did not need this shit right now. "I'm not sure. Did you read the entry?"
Gareth looked like he'd bitten a lime and wasn't sure if he liked the taste or not. "It doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense, but yeah, we read it."
"That's why I didn't tell you." The entry on Zach was unlike any other he'd ever seen. It still confused the hell out of him, and until he could do a bit more research he wasn't going to call his brother a witch. "Why aren't you two in the great room?"
They shivered.
"Mom's here?" Christopher raced from the room, ignoring the shouts of his brothers. He slid to a stop in the great room and found Zachary, hands holding what looked like a purple rose, standing over his end table and staring intently at the vase of flowers sitting there. Staring up at him was a tiny little old woman intoning, "You've got it. Now, cast."
Zachary's hand flew out. The rose touched the vase.
"At my touch this color you'll see.
As I will so mote it be."
Christopher grinned. The flowers were turning a rich, deep purple. Not his favorite color, but if Grammy could help Zachary with his magic, he could live with the illusion of purple flowers for a bit.
Zachary whooped. "Yes!"
Christopher's grin slowly faded. The vase was turning purple. Then the end table. The lamp. The sofa.
The walls.
"Zachary. Take the illusion off." Purple bled across his hardwood floors. He stepped back, worried about what would happen if that leading edge touched him.
"Oops." Zachary turned to the elderly woman who stood there, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose.
"I told you not to get overly excited." She sighed and waved her arm. Then she frowned. "Zachary."
"I'm trying!" Zachary leaned down and peered at the purple flowers. "Well. Crap."
"What?" Christopher was glad the purple stopped on the edge of the kitchen.
Zachary straightened up, his face filled with wonder. "It's not an illusion." He turned to Christopher, a huge grin slowly taking over his face. "It's not an illusion, Chris."
The wondrous happiness on Zach's face was something he hadn't seen since they were children. It made him sad to realize how much Zach's apparent lack of ability had dragged his happy-go-lucky brother down.
Chris blinked as his brother's words sank in. He got down on the ground and touched the floor, using all of his senses, magical and wolf, to detect the spell.
There was no spell. The lingering traces sifted over his senses, the faint hint of rose and lavender, but the spell was no longer active. "My great room is purple."
"Sorry." Zachary didn't sound very sorry. He sounded ecstatic. "I'll try and put it back."
"No!" Two strong voices rang out, one male, one female.
Christopher and Grammy looked at each other. The old woman laughed. "Zachary, you are to touch nothing until I've got you properly trained. Preferably under shields. And wards. Maybe even un-derground."
"I'm that bad?" Zachary tossed the rose onto the couch. "What am I saying? Of course I'm that bad." He started for the kitchen, his expression the same old devil-may-care Zachary Christopher was so used to seeing and was finally beginning to understand was a mask. "We need to make lunch. I'm starved."
"Zachary David Elijah Beckett."
There was power in the old woman's voice, power that stopped Zachary in his tracks.
"Do you hereby swear to abide by the laws of the Witch's Council?
Zachary turned back to Annabelle, ignoring Christopher's gasp of surprise. "I do."
"Do you swear fealty to our Prince, forsaking all other oaths?"
Christopher swallowed. That was a big one. To swear fealty to the ruler of the Witches was to for-
swear his oath to the Wizards.
"I do."
The woman smiled and winked. "One last oath."
Zachary smiled back. "Law of three."
One salt and pepper brow rose. "Very good." The smile dropped from her face, and she was once more all business. "Do you promise to stand before our prince and swear your oath to him, binding yourself forevermore to Court and Council?"
Christopher frowned. That last part wasn't a part of the wizard's oath.
But Zachary showed no hesitation. "I do."
"I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride." Christopher turned to find Lana in the doorway, clapping her hands. "See, Grammy? Didn't I tell you?" Lana entered the room and gave Zachary a huge hug. "Congratulations!"
"Thanks." Zachary looked stunned. "What happens next?"
"You go for training, silly!" Lana turned to Annabelle, her arms still looped loosely around Zachary's neck. "Philadelphia?"
Grams shook her head. "Cleveland."
"The court? Already?"
Grams nodded.
"Whoa."
Zachary lifted his hands from Lana's waist, which was a very good thing. Christopher had been wondering how pissed his mom would be if Zachary came for Thanksgiving minus arms. "Wait wait wait. The court. Now?" He pulled out of Lana's arms and began pacing. "I know I have to swear fealty and all that, but shouldn't I have more training before going to court?"
Lana giggled. "Silly. The court will be your trainer." She waved her arm around at the purple great room. "This was supposed to be a simple illusion spell, right?"
Zach grimaced. "Right."
Annabelle smirked. "Be grateful I didn't ask you to change your eye color to purple. You'd look like Barney."
Christopher choked, covering his mouth with his hand.
Lana pointed at him. "I wouldn't laugh if I were you. Everyone associated with him could have looked like Grape Apes too." She blinked, her hand going to her neck. She turned to Zach, laughing. "No spells!"
Zach was looking down at his hands. "But … I can't even cast a basic shield."
Annabelle patted Zach on the back. "Of course not. You've been learning from wizards." She smiled, and somehow Christopher was afraid. "By the time the court is done with you, shields should come easier than breathing. It'll be the other lessons you'll need to worry about." Grams turned her dark-eyed stare Christopher's way. "Now what is this about a duel?" She crossed her arms. "And how is my granddaughter involved?"
The doorbell rang before he could answer. "I'll get it!"
He ran for the front door, hearing the sounds of Zachary and Lana describing Cole's latest threats to her grandmother. Without looking through the peephole, he pulled open the door.
He nearly sobbed. Today just kept getting better and better. Edward and Marjory Beckett stood on his step, his mother cool and icy in her pale blue jacket, his father's salt and pepper hair rumpled as usual. "Hi, Mom. Dad."
His father paused long enough to give him a hug, his golden eyes filled with anxiety. "Gareth?"
"My study."
His father rushed passed him towards the study, barely acknowledging anyone else in his need to see his injured child.
"Christopher." His mother glided past him, pulling her light wool jacket off and handing it to him.
"Where are your other brothers?"
He happily threw his brothers to the wolf. "Zachary is practicing some spells in the great room, and Daniel is with Gareth in my study."
She walked into the great room. "Zachary, you know better than to … " She stopped and slowly looked around. "Christopher, when did you redecorate?"
"Long story." He walked over to Lana and pulled her to him, tucking her under his shoulder. "Mom, I'd like you to meet Alannah and her grandmother, Mrs. Evans. Lana, Annabelle, this is my mother, Marjory Beckett."
His mother stiffened. "Annabelle Evans."
Grammy smiled, her gaze never leaving his mother. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Beckett."
"Matriarch of the Evans coven?"
Annabelle's smile was full of teeth. If Chris didn't know any better he'd call her the predator. "The one and only."
His mother took a deep breath. "And Alannah is also an Evans, I presume?"
Christopher winced. "Evans-Beckett." Lana elbowed him in the side with a frown.
His mother turned, her frown equally dire. "Really?"
"Hello, Mrs. Beckett." Lana held out her hand with a smile.
His mother eyed the shadow mark on the side of her neck and sighed. "A witch, Christopher?"
Lana's hand dropped, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
Uh-oh. "Alannah is my mate, Mother."