Chapter Nineteen
A week after my mother left, we still hadn't heard anything from the step-person. Every day, I expected Greg to call and chew me out for sending the wrong crate. I'd planned to tell him that I'd shipped the right box and he must have made a mistake when he marked them. But the call from my stepfather never came. The crates with the last three gargoyles never came either, and the pack was getting edgy.
'Course, the constant snarl of the chainsaw next door didn't help anybody's mood.
On my invitation, Whitney and Mim were spending more time at my place and the gargoyles seemed to appreciate the company as well as the distraction. When the girls asked about Reason, Victor told them his brother had returned to England for the time being.
Anyhow, while we were waiting to hear about our missing gargoyles, Havoc got on a Parcheesi jag. The game had been crazy popular in England about a hundred years ago, and Havoc had been dying to play it for almost as long. So we looked around on the Internet and found a used game for two dollars plus shipping.
Most of the time, the gargoyles played for money. But when Mim and Whitney were around, they played for what they called a friendly kiss. Havoc usually won but Defiance could be strong competition when the girls were in the game. Havoc didn't show any favoritism when it came to kissing girls, but Defiance always insisted on a kiss from Whitney. And his kisses were a lot friendlier than Havoc's, if you know what I mean.
Dare didn't normally play. I don't think he liked to watch Havoc kiss Mim. But one afternoon, he joined us in a game and seemed determined to reach the finish line first. That day, Mim got off to a good start and won for the first time ever. 'Course I kept running interference for her to make sure she won. I'm not sure, but I think Havoc was helping too.
Mim turned an endearing shade of pink when she asked for her prize—a kiss from Dare. The severely handsome gargoyle seemed startled but pleased. The kiss only lasted like a second, but afterward Dare had a faraway look in his eyes. Like he wanted be alone with Mim somewhere far away.
Okay. Maybe that sounds naive but you had to be there.
By that time, I was mixing a tablespoon of venom with my water every morning and Valor seemed more at ease around me. The gargoyles had finished their first set of bows and I'd opened a website for them with links to the site where their bows were listed for sale. We received a few inquires and read the emails together as part of our daily lessons.
Gradually, the guys gravitated away from the television and spent more time on the computer. They knew how to navigate to their website and print out emails. They also spent hours viewing satellite maps of the UK and looking for familiar landmarks that would help them find the treasure hoards they'd known about eight hundred years earlier.
But despite all of our attempts to keep occupied, we were starting to get frantic with worry. Thirteen days had gone by since we'd shipped Reason to Texas, which was more than enough time for him to get to the lone star state, even if he took the scenic route and stopped at every outlet mall along the way.
On Friday afternoon, I decided to call Greg before it got too late in England. He'd think it was weird for me to call him, but I couldn't see any other solution. 'Course Mom and I had opened the crates together so at least I could reasonably express an interest in the sculptures.
The pack gathered around me in the kitchen as I punched the long distance number into the telephone keypad.
"Hi, Greg," I said when he answered the phone. "It's MacKenzie."
"What's wrong?" he demanded, probably worried about his appropriated property.
"Nothing," I answered. "We're just…I'm just wondering what happened to the last three crates you said you were going to send."
"They're not there yet?" he barked. He seemed distracted, like the crates weren't his main concern anymore. I was surprised by the change in his attitude.
"No," I answered, fighting to hide the alarm in my voice. "Did you send them? When did you send them? Do you have a tracking number?"
After a slight pause and the sound of rustling paper, he read off the number.
"I'm kinda surprised you didn't check with me to make sure I'd be home to accept the delivery," I ventured tentatively.
"I've been busy," he muttered without offering any details. "The shipper probably tried to deliver the crates when you weren't home. I'll check into it on my end."
I planned to follow up as well but first I had to ask about Reason. "Mom and I opened some of your boxes while she was here. The statues are really nice. How did the Texas millionaire like the one you sent him?"
"No idea," he grunted. "I haven't heard from him."
"Oh," I murmured. Greg wasn't giving me much help. "When do you think you'll hear back?"
"I don't know," he answered. "Maybe never. The guy's a millionaire. For all I know, he hasn't even opened the box. It could be sitting in his airplane hanger next to his Rolls Royce and his sealed collection of Van Goghs."
Ugh. That wasn't exactly good news. "Has he paid you the rest of the money?" I asked. I realized my question would sound strange to Greg but I wanted to find out if Reason had arrived in Texas.
"No," he snapped, like it was none of my business. "But I expect to receive the payment soon."
"Well, let me know if you hear anything," I pressed. "I'd…be interested."
As soon as I hung up, I told the gargoyles what I'd learned and headed for the computer in the family room where I checked the status of the shipment from England. Unfortunately, it appeared to have left St. Louis five days earlier but hadn't arrived at its next destination. I called the shipping company and they said they'd check into it and get back to me within twenty-four hours.
"Twenty-four hours." Defiance repeated the words flatly while an unhappy frown creased his high forehead. I could tell he was worried about his brothers.
Havoc slid his gaze in my direction. "Maybe MacKenzie could try to help us find them."
At first, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I caught on. Amazed, I turned my head slowly and stared at Havoc. He was suggesting I might be able to find his missing cousins because I was a witch.
Yeah, right, I thought. Good luck with that.
"What do you think?" Havoc asked me while carefully eyeing Valor.
I watched Valor too. The last time we talked about me being a witch, he was dead against the idea.
"It's up to MacKenzie," Valor answered as if he'd rather not get involved.
Victor gave Valor a considering look then moved his gaze to me. "Would you mind giving it a try, MacKenzie?"
I shrugged. "Just don't get your hopes up," I warned him.
They sat me down at the dining room table.
"First you need some glass," Defiance stated.
"Or a bowl of water," Havoc added.
"Glass works better," Defiance immediately argued.
There didn't seem to be much agreement on how the scrying should be done. It seemed as if each of the gargoyles had his idea. In the end, I tried everything. We found some glass in the garage that had fallen out of a double-paned window. I tried the glass and water and mirrors but nothing worked. I even tried laying the piece of glass over a map on the table and hanging a needle above it on a long piece of thread. I saw that in a movie a few years ago. It worked spectacularly in the film.
"You have to believe in your power," Defiance lectured as he braced his hands on the table and scowled down on me.
"And you have to want the magic to work," Victor said.
"I do want the magic to work," I insisted since I couldn't claim I believed in my power. "I want to find your cousins so you guys can quit worrying about them."
"You need to want it more than that. You have to want it…for strong personal reasons," insisted Defiance.
"For emotional reasons," Havoc added.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled as my shoulders slumped. I felt like I was letting them down. "Maybe if I had met your cousins, it would make a difference. I'm sure I could find
one of you guys if you were missing."
"I'm sure you could," Dare replied encouragingly. He looked at his brother sitting at the other end of the table as if to say, "Can we get some help, here?"
"Why don't you take a break?" Valor suggested when he noticed Dare's pointed look. "You've been at it for more than two hours."
"I guess you were right about me," I muttered in a low voice as I lifted my eyes and looked at him. "I'm not much of a witch."
Dare's mouth tightened into a flat line and he gave his brother a blunt stare. He was probably thinking I'd never be able to "access my powers" as long as I believed Valor didn't want me to.
"I know what you're thinking," I told Dare. "But you're wrong. Valor isn't stopping me from finding the rest of the pack. I just don't have the ability. Maybe the power of red hair has died over the centuries. Or maybe…"
"What?" he demanded with an edge of impatience that was unusual for him. "Maybe there never were any witches? Maybe a witch didn't scry my location and give it to that harpy who kept me prisoner all those years?"
"She didn't say that," Valor murmured, defending me as he rose to his feet. "Come," he said, and offered me his hand.
I was surprised when he didn't let go of my hand as we stepped through the front door. But it was just starting to get dark and maybe he thought we were safe from the sight of any harpies that might be hanging around. He took me out to the edge of our property line and picked out the widest tree that faced the tree-slayer's house. Blocker's lights were on which meant he was probably at home.
"Lean back against the tree," he told me. "And put your hands behind you so they're touching the bark."
I did as he instructed. "What's the plan?"
"You're going to cast a spell," he informed me.
I looked at Blocker's house and figured the spell I was going to cast had something to do with my neighbor. "Is that why I'm leaning against this tree? Because wood is necessary to make magic?"
He nodded. "Live trees are best and oaks are the strongest source of power. But this pine should work for a simple spell like this one."
"What if there isn't a live tree available?" I asked, trying to be a good student.
"Leaves will work for small spells. Even dried leaves. Pieces of wood can be used if you have nothing else."
"Like a piece of wooden furniture?" I queried as I leaned against the tree and waited for his next command. "Like the dining room table?"
"Exactly like the dining room table. But a clever witch will keep a piece of wood with her at all times."
"Like a wand?" I suggested eagerly. I liked the idea of a wand. Wands are cool.
"A staff would be better."
"Why?"
He chuckled. "Because there's more wood in it."
My mouth tilted wryly. I guess I should have been able to figure that out. Now that I gave it some thought, I decided a staff might be just as nice as a wand. And it could pass for a walking stick.
Valor propped his shoulder against the side of the tree. "Now focus on the house and cast your spell."
I sent him a blank stare. "What spell would that be?"
"Do I have to do all the work?" he sighed, although his eyes glinted with amusement. "What spell would you like to cast, MacKenzie? What do you want for strong personal reasons? For emotional reasons?"
I decided a kissing spell would be very nice but I didn't say so. "I'd like my neighbor to stop cutting trees," I admitted. "How do I do that?"
"First, you must be careful not to make the spell too vague. If you only wish for your neighbor to stop cutting trees, he might have a heart attack." He sent me a sly look "I know you wouldn't want that."
"No," I snickered. "I wouldn't want that."
Valor waved his heavily knuckled hand toward the house. "Just suggest that he change his mind about the trees."
I fixed my gaze on the neighbor's house though my attention kept wandering to the gargoyle standing so close to me. "Do I have to say the spell out loud or can I do this in my head?"
He leaned in front of me and rested his hand on the tree beside my face. As I gazed into his thickly lashed eyes, I noticed his lips were mere inches from mine. "Something tells me you aren't taking this seriously," he murmured with a stern smile.
"I'm sorry," I apologized. I tamped down a rebellious giggle while my eyes locked on the firm, hard line of lips.
"You have to believe in your power if you want this to work," he lectured gently.
If that was true, then there wasn't much hope for this spell ever getting off the ground.
"I believe in you," he added quietly. "I believe in your power."
"You do?" I asked softly, wondering if that meant he was finally ready to accept me for what I was…and what I might be. Even though I still thought the whole witch business was silly, it was nice to know Valor's feelings for me were strong enough to overcome his eight-hundred-year-old prejudices.
"Aye," he answered. "You're probably the most powerful witch I've ever known."
Feeling suddenly shy, I twisted a wild strand of my hair around my finger. "Because my hair's so red?"
"No," he answered. "Because only very strong magic could have changed me to my living form without the sun's help."
I realized he was talking about when the tool chest fell on me. "You really think I did that?"
He held my gaze and nodded.
"Are you sure?" I argued stubbornly. "Have you tried to make the change since then? Without the sun's help?"
He watched my eyes and lifted his chin. "I tried every day when your mother was home and we were stuck in our packing boxes. We all tried. When I told the others what happened on the morning I met you, Victor thought maybe our powers might have increased during the eight hundred years we were dormant. Defiance suggested maybe the Colorado sunshine was stronger than the sun in England. Before your mother got home, we even checked the roof of the garage for cracks to make sure a stray ray of sunlight hadn't reached me."
"So you're convinced I spelled you out of your stone form?"
He nodded seriously. "I am. Now, do you want to stop your neighbor or not?"
I took a deep breath, determined to do my best. "I want to stop him," I answered firmly. Which was true. I did want to stop my neighbor…almost as much as I wanted Valor to kiss me, which hadn't happened in a long time.
His face moved closer and his head tilted. I felt his warm breath wash against my mouth. I closed my eyes. As I've said before, sometimes you just have to plan for the best.
"Then open your eyes," he commanded. "And cast your spell."
When I peeked out from beneath my lashes, Valor was leaning his shoulder against the tree again, as if he hadn't just almost kissed me and had no intention of ever doing such a thing. Disappointed, I banished him from my mind and concentrated on the house that sat about a hundred feet away.
"Oh," he added suddenly. "I guess I should mention it's best if your spell rhymes."
"You're not serious!" I exploded in a loud whisper.
He shrugged. "All the spells I ever heard rhymed."
"Then why don't you just give me one of those spells?" I demanded.
"Because they aren't in English. They're in the old tongue. And if you don't understand them, they won't work."
I pushed out a sigh and took a moment to make up a rhyming spell, not entirely convinced that he wasn't just winding me up. "At this time, change your mind," I commanded beneath my breath. I felt like a complete idiot, standing in the dark while chanting bad poetry. "You don't want to cut another tree. You didn't realize how hard it would be. It was a bad idea anyhow. Change your mind and stop right now."
Valor looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. "Well," he said in a strained voice. "That's…not bad. I'm sure it will get easier with time."
"Do you think it will work?" I asked sourly.
"I have complete faith in you," he insisted. His eyes sparkled with humor as he took my hand again and pulled me back toward the ho
use. The laughter in his blue gaze was almost enough to melt my bones.
Valor (A Greystone Novel) Page 20
