Chapter 18: Auburdeen

Despite agreeing to Thaddea's plans, it was with a heavily weighted heart I boarded the ship to London, accompanying the griping, sullen Auburdeen who her mother agreed to send to England for her own protection. Though Olive hadn't threatened Thaddea's children directly, we both knew the woman's decline into madness could lead her to attack anyone she saw as a threat. And if Thaddea was to take her place as leader of the coven, Auburdeen's safety was paramount to succession.

I will not recount here the time that passed in the Old World with Burdie, as she has her own tale told elsewhere. Needless to say, my hot-tempered and brightly shining darling did what she did best the moment she arrived in Jolly Old England-found trouble and dove head first into it.

I struggled the entire time, back and forth between worry for Burdie and fear for Thaddea, knowing the deeper Burdie dug herself, the more her mother would be distracted from the very important task she now underwent-to become leader of the coven. Such a transfer, even under the best of circumstances, was a volatile and dangerous process. Damon and Pharo's arrival and Burdie's friendships with a number of odd if powerful people at least eased my mind.

Thaddea's magic drew me through our connection, the tie to Sydlynn's magic, the moment she challenged Olive for leadership and I was happy to find Auburdeen there in spirit as well. Though the moment the battle was through and the power transferred, Olive collapsing with a wailing cry at Thaddea's feet, I knew something was horribly wrong with Burdie.

Again, her story I won't tell here, but thankfully she survived her adventure. Well enough that the moment we arrived back in New York, she fell face-first into another.

But I digress.

The instant the ship touched dock, I broke free of the ridiculous wicker basket Burdie carried me in and hurtled myself down the ramp and into Thaddea's arms. Her power, now the magic of the family, hugged me as tightly as her arms as she whispered her love in my ear.

Home was where the heart lived. And as much as I loved Auburdeen, mine yet remained with Thad.

Burdie did one thing right in the short time it took her to put herself in danger. She met and married Gabriel Parker, a delightful and charming young witch, one of the new policing order named Enforcers by the High Council. And though he was forced to leave his position to be her husband, I didn't see him complaining.

Her wedding brought revelations, pain and yet another run in with mishap, this one leaving her deeply scarred, though her shining star never faltered. I sadly said farewell to Damon as he and Burdie's odd friend, the assassin woman Stella, departed for their own adventures.

Burdie's injured heart wasn't to be healed easily. She and Gabriel were pregnant within months of the wedding, though from the moment of the announcement I knew something was horribly wrong. Her body had been through as much as her emotions, more so, and was still recovering from her ordeal. Without enough strength to support a child too, the one who grew within her remained weak and frail.

I tried to talk to her, approached her privately. Told her what I feared. Only to have her rage appear as it never had toward me.

"Shut your mouth, foul creature!" She stood from where she'd sat in her favorite window seat, robe falling back from her slim body, collar bones standing out sharply against her skin from the weight she'd yet to recover, lost during her captivity and torture. "How dare you?"

I slunk from her, to Thaddea, who sadly held me and agreed with my assessment.

"There's nothing we can do for her now," Thad said, tears tracking down her cheeks. For the first time, I saw her age, how she'd developed lines around her eyes and mouth, the initial streaks of gray running through her darkening hair. When had my darling Thad grown up? "Except be there for her when the time comes."

The babe was born several weeks premature as Burdie's body, supported as best we could in secret as she would accept no overt help, gave up the battle to keep the child any longer. The infant came to us weak and ailing, as I'd expected. Gabriel hovered close, and though I knew he, too, understood their daughter was not long for this world, Burdie refused to listen.

Until Adalee Clarisse passed away, three weeks after she first opened her eyes in the middle of a January snowstorm while Burdie ran out into the cold to scream her denial.

I followed her immediately, pressing against her as the wind howled around us, tugging at her thin dress, chilling me even through the thickness of my fur. Burdie turned, looked down at me, hair spread about her in a robe of red, an ice goddess weeping frozen tears. She bent and scooped me into her arms, clutching me to her.

"Oh Sass," she cried. "It's just not fair."

No amount of purring could soothe a mother's broken heart.

***