His answer cleared up why he’d never met her mother in London, but it made no sense why he hadn’t met her later, when she married Preston. If she even did. But she had to, right? Especially if there was a second Autumn.

  Her head hurt from trying to figure it out.

  “What about Preston?” Alastair asked the question she’d been wondering.

  “My brother left home to backpack Europe after college. We didn’t know about you girls until after word reached us that he and his wife died in that plane crash.”

  Autumn jerked to a halt. “Wait! What? What plane crash? Are you saying my parents are dead?”

  Grief flashed briefly across LJ’s visage. “I’m sorry, hon.”

  “But—”

  “Let it go, child,” Alastair said with surprising tenderness. “You’ll only give yourself a headache, and there’s no changing the past in his world.”

  She nodded and met LJ’s sad sapphire eyes.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said in a choked voice. Knowing her uncle could take care of himself, she bolted. Her need to find her children pounded through her with every step she ran. If she didn’t get to them soon, she’d go insane.

  6

  Alastair walked beside his rough-and-ready counterpart from the alternate dimension, and the surreal nature of the moment wasn’t lost on him.

  No Rorie.

  He shoved aside the urge to question his companion about Angelica and concentrated on the immediate—returning Jolly and Chloe to their rightful place and time. His primary concern was the fact Isis had not responded to his summons. Rarely did that happen unless she was irate over one of his misdeeds, which of late, had been none.

  “I can feel ya thinking, Al,” the guy said with a grimace. “It’s like a fucking buzzing in my brain.”

  Alastair fisted his hand.

  “Ya wanting to punch me?”

  “Hardly. If I were to attack, it would be with magic. I’m not likely to resort to barbaric brawls in the middle of the forest.”

  “Then what’s with the fist?” LJ—Dear Goddess! Was he really mentally calling the man that?—paused his forward movement and gestured to Alastair’s curled hand.

  “In this world, I’m cursed. If I were to swear, it conjures an influx of pests.”

  The other man’s guffaws were loud and oddly contagious, nothing like his own rusty laughter. “Are ya having me on, right now?”

  “Deadly serious, I’m afraid. Would you care for me to swear and prove it?”

  “Nah.” Sobering, LJ began walking again. “I’ll take your word for it.” With a curious side glance, he asked, “What did you do to deserve it?”

  “I ventured into the Otherworld without an invitation, then snuck back out.”

  “Why the hell would you do that?”

  After a brief hesitation to listen for locusts and hearing none, Alastair said, “As you stated earlier, Thornes only love once. Rorie was there, and I intended to bring her home.”

  “Not Angelica,” LJ stated flatly. “Did you ever meet her?”

  “No,” Alastair said. He had briefly known a woman named Angelica, but he wasn’t positive they were discussing the same person. It was pointless to explain it was during his imprisonment. He’d experienced a fondness for the woman, but she’d died because he’d made the mistake of casting her a reassuring smile in the presence of his greatest enemies, Zhu Lin and Victor Salinger. Instead, Alastair would silently carry the guilt to his grave with the rest of his sins.

  “You’re lying.”

  Surprised, he jerked to a halt. Meeting his own assessing gaze was disturbing on multiple levels, and a fire burned behind LJ’s stare. The man was angry about his falsehood.

  “I didn’t want to cause you unnecessary hurt,” Alastair stated coolly. Going with the assumption that both women were the same, he said, “Angelica never survived the Witches’ War. I’m sorry.”

  The man sucked in a breath, and perhaps it would’ve been better had Alastair punched him in the face, because LJ’s shock was great, as was the wave of angst coming from him.

  “Please, rein your emotions in,” Alastair gritted out. Finally, he had an idea of the pain others received whenever he lost control of his anger.

  “Sorry. I just…” Shaking his head, LJ stalked off in Autumn’s wake.

  As Alastair strolled at a more sedate pace, keeping his twin in sight, he played the problem over in his mind. The only reason Isis wouldn’t respond was because she couldn’t. Somehow, the children had caused a cosmic shift. If it wasn’t righted soon, chaos would ensue.

  With a dark frown pulling at his brows, LJ stormed back to him. “I think those kids of Tums caused a cosmic shift.”

  A bark of laughter escaped Alastair.

  “What’s so goddamned funny?”

  “I’d just come to that exact conclusion.”

  “Hmm. Well, what can I say? We’re practically the same person.” He eyed Alastair’s suit. “Or we would be if you weren’t such a tight ass. Why are you?”

  “I abhor dirt of any kind.” When LJ’s dark blond brows shot up, Alastair elaborated. “I was held prisoner for a number of years, bound by magical shackles and living in my own filth. No clean water for drinking or bathing to be had. Only given enough food to keep me alive so I could be tortured daily.”

  Compassion came and went on the other man’s face, as if he tried to hide it because he knew it wasn’t welcome. “Makes sense. Let’s go save Tums’s kids.”

  “Tell me. In your world, does Autumn marry Keaton Carlyle?”

  “Yeah. He’s pretty much a worthless asshole. I don’t understand what that girl sees in him. Never amounted to much.”

  “Really?” A grin curled Alastair’s mouth. “You’re in for a treat.”

  “You say that like he’s something here.”

  “I can see we share the same powers of observation.”

  LJ chuckled. The man sobered and shot a side glance his way. “You and Aurora Fennell, huh? What about Preston?”

  “My brother never toured Europe out of school. The Witches’ War was in progress when he was that age. Prior to that, I fought in a human war, then traveled to Europe to shuck the weight of what I’d seen.” He shrugged. “I suppose you could say I needed a palate cleanser. My first day there, I saw Rorie reading a book at a small cafe and lost my heart.”

  “But you met Angelica during the Witches’ War. When was that, and how did Aurora come to have children with your brother?” LJ met Alastair’s inquiring gaze and smiled wryly. “The girl looks just like him, and she asked if her parents were dead.”

  “It’s quite a long story, and if we have time, I’ll fill you in on the details. However, right now, we’ve arrived at our destination.” Alastair nodded toward the house as it came into view. “You’ll find our brother through those double doors.”

  “Pres is here?”

  “This version of him, yes.”

  His alternate-plane twin inhaled deeply, nodded once, and moved toward the patio. As LJ strode away, Alastair turned over their meeting in his mind. This crush of exchanged information was likely the reason they shouldn’t reside in the same time and place. At any given moment, one or the other might be inclined to alter the other’s fate by doing something to save a loved one or friend. With any luck, they’d get the children home and Lumberjack Al back to his proper world in a timely manner.

  Alastair was just about to the pool deck when a shiny object caught his attention. He didn’t swear aloud, but he sure as hell wanted to when he recognized the significance of the jewelry piece at his feet.

  7

  Autumn was in the middle of explaining about their portal visitor to the others when LJ walked into the room.

  A hush fell over the small crowd.

  “Holy crap!” Spring approached the man with avid curiosity on her lovely face.

  In response, LJ scowled like he’d seen his worst enemy and backed up a step. Directing his question toward Autumn, he kept his wary gaze on her sister. “What’s this, then? She’s welcome here?”

  “Welcome?” Perfectly arched chestnut brows shot up as Spring tilted her head to study LJ. “Am I not welcome where you come from?”

  His distrust could be felt like crawly bugs along Autumn’s arms, and curiosity got the better of her. Leaving her father’s side, she crossed to him.

  “She’s the best of us in this world, LJ. But what has she done to you?”

  “We’ll just say she’s not a nice person and leave it at that,” he muttered.

  Skirting her, he approached Preston. Sadness clouded his visage, and he appeared to be holding back his grief as he struggled with the idea of embracing his brother’s twin. Autumn felt a twinge of sympathy for what he’d lost. The Thornes in this world had once experienced a similar emotion when her father crossed to the Otherworld for a time.

  “Preston,” he said gruffly. “You look the same.”

  One of her father’s dark auburn brows lifted as he studied the rougher duplicate of his brother. “I can’t say the same for you. Alternate Alastair, I’m assuming?”

  “Lumberjack Al seems to work with all the flannel,” Autumn said with a gesture toward his shirt.

  LJ’s grin was pure sunshine. “But I’m the better looking of the two.”

  “Debatable,” Uncle Alastair said as he shut the glass doors. “However, we don’t have time for this nonsense.” Holding up Jolly’s gift from the Goddess, he scowled. “We have an untethered Jolyon on the loose.”

  “Ohmygod!” Autumn felt faint. The anklet had been designed to contain her son’s unimaginable power. There was no telling what havoc he could wreak in the world he currently inhabited.

  “We have to get through that portal. Like now!” Knox, who had been silent until then, stepped forward. “If he was strong enough to cause earthquakes as a baby, he’s strong enough to⁠—”

  “Open a portal,” Alastair added grimly. “Perhaps young Chloe isn’t the culprit, after all.”

  Autumn’s knees gave out, but Knox was there to catch her. “I have to tell Keaton.”

  “I’ll do it. You sit down and process this for a minute,” he said gently. “We’ll get them back, Autumn. I promise.”

  “You can’t promise that, Knox. You know you can’t.”

  “I have a few tricks in my back pocket and a few people who owe me favors,” he assured her. She didn’t miss the concerned look he exchanged with her uncle and father.

  “I’m not weak, nor am I unaware, fellas.” She glared at the men around her. “I know how to read a damned room.”

  Admiration flared in her uncle’s sapphire eyes, and he nodded his approval. “Keep that spirit, child. You’re going to need it.” Addressing Spring, he asked, “What do you remember of the ceremony to resurrect your mother, my dear?”

  “All of it.”

  “Do we still have the artifacts in safekeeping?”

  “I do. I’m assuming my sisters do as well,” Spring said with a questioning glance at Autumn.

  “No. The Chintamani Stone was put in the vault at Thorne Industries for safekeeping, so were a few of the other items. But even if we still had all the key elements we needed, we no longer have the numbers to perform the ceremony.”

  As she was speaking, Keaton and his parents entered the room. Because he’d heard the tail end of her comment, he voiced his opinion. “Actually, I think we do, if you’re talking about the spell that revived Aurora. From what I recall, there had to be seven blood relatives of your mother. Jolly has that with both our sides combined.”

  “Then it could work?” Autumn asked, scared to hope but feeling that small kernel of emotion ready to pop inside.

  Her father shared a look with Alastair and LJ before nodding. “I think so. Remember, this isn’t like opening the portal to the Otherworld, honey. We’re opening it to another reality. There’s no telling what the long-term consequences might be.”

  “They have to be better than my juiced-up kid running around unsupervised, Daddy.” Firming her resolve, she rose to her feet and clasped Keaton’s hand. His nod of support made her feel marginally better. “So we’re doing this?”

  “I don’t believe we have a choice,” Alastair replied as he worked the anklet through his fingers. “We’re unable to contact the Goddess for permission, and the children need to be recalled.”

  “Not to mention, I want to go back to my time.”

  “That, too,” he said to LJ.

  The slider opened, and Aurora stepped into the room. She took one look at LJ and exclaimed, “Bloody hell!”

  His expression was nothing short of poleaxed as he saw her lovely face. “Wh⁠—?”

  Amusement curled her uncle’s mouth up at the corners, and his eyes gleamed with an oddly wicked satisfaction. “This is Aurora.”

  As if compelled, LJ crossed to her and stared down into her wide sky-blue eyes, his mouth still hanging slightly agape. With a shake of his head, he lifted his arm, prepared to touch her porcelain skin, only to have it captured by Uncle Alastair.

  “I’ll admit to feeling the same upon first seeing Rorie. However, I’ll happily detach your wrist if you touch her.”

  “I would never!” But they all knew he’d been about to, regardless of his denial.

  The stranger thing was her mother’s inability to respond. It was as if she were equally enthralled.

  “I believe you should grow a beard, brother,” Preston said dryly. “Rorie seems to be fascinated by your rugged counterpart.”

  Straightening his tie, Alastair shot him a dirty look. “Bite your tongue, man!”

  “Mama? Are you okay?” Spring asked.

  Aurora shook her head slowly, as if waking from a dream. “Yes. Yes, of course. I… The resemblance is extraordinary, isn’t it?”

  “Only if I failed to groom myself for weeks on end,” Alastair answered with an arch look.

  With a suddenness that surprised them all, Aurora laughed. Its light musical quality was a joy to listen to, and LJ once again looked like he’d been punched upside the head.

  “I suppose you’re sorry you never met my mother in your world,” Autumn said with a small smile.

  “But I have. She’s my wife.”

  “Wait, what? I thought you said she married my father on the other side? That they…” She cast a look at her dad and grimaced, not wanting to reveal the death of his alternate-reality twin. “You said your wife’s name is Angelica.”

  “Yes. Angelica Fennell,” LJ replied. “Her parents visited the States when she was a teenager. I was smitten from the start.”

  “So who was Aurora Fennell to you?” Alastair asked in confusion.

  “My sister-in-law. Angelica’s youngest sibling who remained in England with her father’s family.”

  “I only have a brother,” Rorie said with a frown.

  “You have no brother in my world.”

  Keaton shook his head, for the first time taking a good look at the newcomer in their midst. “I’m so goddamned confused.”

  “Right. You weren’t here for that part. Lumberjack Alastair came walking out of the woods when Uncle Al and I were calling Isis. He’s who came to our side when our kids went through the portal,” Autumn explained, rubbing the spot between her brows to dispel the forming headache. It was all too fucking much. She just wanted her kids home safe.

  Doing a head count, she said, “We have enough to open the portal. Let’s get the things we need.”

  8

  Keaton went with Alastair and Lumberjack Al to Thorne Industries, and it occurred to him that this was his first visit to the business. It felt odd that he’d never been there, considering it was a constant topic of conversation in the months leading up to Aurora Fennell-Thorne’s resurrection.

  The place resembled any modernized industrial building, and from the outside, anyone passing by would think it was a standard company, with its mirrored floor-to-ceiling windows and enormous parking lot. Stepping inside, it seemed no different than any mortal corporation. However, Keaton knew what the unsuspecting didn’t. Underneath this building was a giant vault containing magical artifacts held in trust for the Witches’ Council.

  Nash Thorne, Alastair’s son, worked for the Council, and when he took over Thorne Industries upon Alastair’s retirement, he’d turned the place into a stronghold. Something Alastair never would’ve done in any incarnation. This was made fact by the distasteful expression on LJ’s countenance as he surveyed his surroundings inside the vault.

  “My sentiments exactly,” Alastair said aloud. “All these lovely items going to waste.”

  His roughneck twin chuckled, and the sound was opposite Alastair’s unique bark-like laugh. Autumn had once told him her uncle had a hard life and little amusement as an adult. Clearly, the same couldn’t be said for the alternate-reality version. Without the enemies and wars, his life had probably been fairly strife-free.

  “Sperm Donor.”

  LJ’s dark-blond brows shot up as they turned to find Nash Thorne lounging in the doorway of the secret vault. Although similar in appearance to his father, his expression was less arrogant. Blond with classical features, he bore the same old-Hollywood flare. Lent to his stunning looks was a fluidity of movement, as if he didn’t hurry for anyone.

  But there, the resemblance ended. Keaton knew Nash to be more studious, perhaps a bit absent-minded when he fell into his research. The man was also inherently kind, whereas Alastair didn’t suffer fools. Keaton couldn’t say he’d ever seen the elder Thorne be purposely cruel, unless it was to an enemy, but the guy would just as soon smite a person as let them roam free to strike again.

  In that, they were similar. Keaton had learned to set aside any squeamishness when it came to those trying to hurt his family. His first instinct wasn’t one of kill or be killed, but he’d definitely incapacitate someone until he discovered their motives. Autumn usually beat him to it, though.

 

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