Hannah Drake, one of seven daughters born to the seventh daughter in a line of extraordinary women...of which, Hannah is number five. Hannah and Jonas are star-crossed lovers. For as long as he can remember, the Drakes have been his sanctuary...his family, his to protect. His heart belongs to Hannah.
The wind is Hannah's favourite medium to work and control.
Jonas is protective—it is what he did and who he is, above all, he protected Hannah—most especially from himself. He is conditioned to shield his emotions from her, upon realising that she was an empath and it hurt her to regularly read people. He's been hiding his feelings for so long it’s become second nature, using his job as an excuse to not get involved and put her in danger.
Jackson and Jonas had joined the sheriff's department until Jonas had gotten himself shot on the job and became edgy whilst recuperating. His old boss, Duncan Gray, from a special ops team buried deep in the defense department, had pled for his help
On a stakeout, Jonas captures a murder on film, their enemies detecting their presence, tries to intercept and apprehend them. Compromised their assailants shoot to kill. Wounded and bleeding, weakened from blood loss, he telepathically communicates with Hannah.
Standing on Captain’s Walk, at Sea Haven, Hannah conjures up the elements and channels the wind sending the churning sea, racing across the night to Jonas. Tiny pinpoints of light lit up the sky as she continued to gather and direct the force to do her bidding. Far below her, sea spray rose into the air as waves crashed against rocks. The ocean heaved and rocked, spawning small cyclones, twisters racing across the surface.
Building and controlling the wind to a ferocious pitch, a shattering fury that raced through the night to crash down like a hungry tornado in that backstreet alley so far away. The gale chased hapless men with puny weapons that were useless against the forces of nature. The violent gusts smashed windows and sent glass raining down. Boards were picked up and thrown as if an unruly child threw a tantrum. Sweet angelic Hannah directed it all, her flashes of fury sending Jonas's enemies crashing to the ground, helpless under the onslaught of wind and rain and even icy hail.
Jonas is seriously injured transmitting his struggle to Hannah. Swaying, he pulls out a photograph of them, the single one he carried, the one that mattered. He was staring down at a woman and the love on his face, was evident, there for everyone—even him—to see. His finger glided over the glossy paper, leaving a smear of blood. Hannah Drake. Supermodel. A woman with extraordinary, magical gifts. A woman so far out of reach he might as well try to pull the moon from the sky. Little did he know, this photo would have serious implications.
At a modelling show, Hannah is viciously attacked and stabbed ... at home, Sarah and Jonas fearfully witnesses events unfolding as Hannah’s life hangs in the balance. On the precipice of death, all her sisters and her mother’s sisters gather together to pool their spiritual powers. By sheer force of will Ilya’s power source continues to keep her breathing and connected as the women arrive from all around to save and heal her. After a second attempt on her life is thwarted, Jonas makes the decision to take her home to safety.
When the assailants breached their home, it was as if we were imagining an enchanted house as it went into protective mode. A house that eats people for snacks. The trees throw the threat into the ocean. The balcony comes alive and their windows repair themselves. She and her sisters are undoubtedly safe in their house.
Jonas leaned forward to see the mosaic as the intruders began to scale a tall, thick tree. Branches swept outward, long curving boughs providing a ladder for the man to climb. One branch reached toward the balcony on the second story. Joley's room. The man put his foot on the branch and began to ease across. The tree shuddered, bark rippling. Needles shivered. The man stopped, looked around him apprehensively. The branch dipped down hard and fast. The intruder's mouth opened wide with a scream as he clutched at several smaller branches to keep from falling. The thick limb rose fast, the smaller branches breaking, catapulting the intruder several feet into the air and over the bluff. He spun, arms and legs sprawled, like a windmill, before falling far below into the turbulent sea.
"Holy hell, Hannah."
"I know, it takes getting used to." She leaned her body close to his, offering shelter, protection, without ever breaking the link with her sisters.
Jonas turned his attention to two men scaling the walls of the house. At the same time two others were heading for the lower story. The mosaic glowed red-orange. He stepped onto the solid surface and paused, bending over, breathing hard.
Around him, the wrought iron began to bend and reshape, the railing forming into what appeared to Jonas as an animal with a spiked tail and a spiraled horn. The man backed up, pulling out a gun, his gloves burned and still smoking from touching the side of the house.
The animal reared up on hooves, rising above the intruder and then lowering its head. The man fired several rounds in rapid succession, but the animal pawed the ground and hurtled itself relentlessly forward. The intruder was fast, whipping to one side, grabbing the horn to give himself leverage in a desperate attempt to save his life. The tail struck, lashing around, piercing the man's stomach and lifting him into the air before dropping him onto the balcony floor. Beside him, Hannah let out a small sound of distress. Instinctively, Jonas started to let go of hands in order to comfort her, but Elle and Hannah held on tightly, shaking their heads. He frowned as he watched, in the mosaic, the balcony floor slide open and the body drop to the ground below.
At least he'd have a body to work with. Someone he could identify. The big man had moved in a way he was certain he'd seen before.
“This is an illusion, right? Tell me it's an illusion, Hannah, because this is crazy." He wanted to grab all the women and get them out of there.
"Part illusion, part real. They believe it, so it's so," Elle said. "They came to kill us, Jonas. The house is made up of the spirits of our ancestors. Did you think they would lie idly by while we were under attack?"
'Cuz, yeah, didn't everybody's ancestors rise up and destroy enemies? "Fine then. Tell them to save me a body."
“I'm not going to say I can at least collect DNA samples, because every time I open my mouth, the evidence disappears."
With a little sigh, he watched the droplets of blood absorb into the wood and the window reform. "I have to tell you, I've seen some freaky sh*t around you girls, but nothing like this. I have just one question. Have you told your fiancés about this? Because quite frankly it scares the hell out of me."
"You never have to be afraid, Jonas," Hannah assured. "The house judges intent.”
He'd watched a house consume a man and spit him out.
“Hell of a show," Jackson greeted him.
"You saw that? I thought maybe I was hallucinating. Makes me wonder what I'm getting myself into."
"You got yourself into it a long time ago."
"True. Nasty thing, watching a house swallow a man and spit him back out."
"I've got to agree with you there." Jackson peered through the wisps of fog at the walls, where foot- and handprints were burned into the wood. "Do you suppose we can take that in as evidence? We could cut out the sections."
Jonas snorted. "You can try taking a saw to that house, but personally, I'm not about to get anywhere near it with anything resembling a weapon."
"You have any enemies in the crime lab?"
Jonas grinned at him. "Jackson, you're such a mean son of a b*tch."
"Yeah, well. I try."
He never considered about what was involved when she sent the wind to save his life when he was in San Francisco. He would have died in that alley without her.
Someone was trying to kill him and she did whatever it took to protect him. Last night, he would have done whatever it took to protect them. And the house, and their ancestors, did whatever it took to make certain their lineage continues.
“And who's supposed to be making the tea?"
"You always make it," Kate said. "You know everyone's favorite and no one else can make it taste the way you do. I've never figured out what you do to it."
"She adds love," Elle said. "That's always been Hannah's secret."
To give herself a moment, Hannah waved her hand toward the kitchen and at once the tea kettle began to whistle. Her hands followed a familiar, graceful pattern as she wove a spell that would bring each of her sisters their favorite tea. Only when the mugs were floating out on a tray, and her sisters had chosen their brew, did Hannah look down at the bold, precise and very honest writing that could only be Sarah's.
The scrapbook of letters written by her sisters were poignant and a dedication to a beloved sister.
Kate waved toward the kitchen and a plate of cookies floated out. Hannah waited until everyone had one before she turned the page to Abigail's entry.
Joley attracts her own brand of crazy in Ilya, their chemistry undeniable.