Long Lost Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  Her fiancé, Coop, snorted a disbelieving laugh. “Us?”

  She silenced him with a warning look, but amusement still lingered in his adoring gaze. It was impossible to prevent an answering grin. “Okay, maybe I’m a little on edge.”

  “Stick to the plan, and everything will be fine,” Autumn assured her as she mulled over the cookie selection on the platter in front of her. “Mama and Alastair will never know what hit them.”

  “Not those!” Spring said sharply. Snatching Autumn’s cookie from her hand, Spring set it back on the platter and grabbed one from the other side. “Those are the ones laced with the sedative. Have this one.”

  “It would have been difficult to explain why you were laid out on the floor,” Winnie laughed.

  “Shhh!” Summer craned her neck when she heard the creak of the front door opening.

  The murmur of deep male voices drifted to her, and she widened her eyes at the people present. Autumn looked completely bored and more than a little put out. When she would have rubbed her back, Keaton beat her to it and kneaded the muscles. She leaned back into him and sighed her relief.

  “I can mix you a potion for pain relief. It will be completely safe for the baby,” Spring offered hesitantly, tucking a stray lock of her long coppery hair behind one ear. It was a clear indication of her nervousness.

  Summer suspected her youngest sister was still trying to establish her footing in the Thorne clan. Since her memories had been returned by Isis, Spring was a little less stiff than she’d been initially upon being returned home to them, but she still had awkward moments like these.

  Autumn clasped her hand and smiled. “That would be wonderful.”

  Winnie grinned and held up a hand before pointing to her ever-expanding pregnant belly. “What about me? Three here.”

  Spring laughed, and the musical sound echoed off the walls, bringing a smile to everyone’s lips. “I’ll make a double batch.”

  “That’s a sound I will never tire of hearing,” Alastair said as he stopped at the entrance to the room. “You have the loveliest laugh of anyone I’ve ever met.”

  A smile split Spring’s face, and she jumped up to hug him. “Thank you, Uncle.” She tucked her arm through his and led him toward an armchair. “Come. Winnie baked us all some delicious cookies. I have it on good authority that macadamia nut is your favorite.”

  His thoughtful gaze swept the occupants of the room and settled on Summer.

  She struggled to maintain a carefree façade. When her father’s eyes narrowed, she swallowed—hard.

  Alastair’s lips twitched along with his left brow. The gig was up. Any second now, he would bust them all trying to drug him. Maintaining eye contact with her, he bit into the proffered treat.

  “Exactly how many am I supposed to eat?” he asked.

  Coop spewed his coffee all over the remaining cookies.

  “I guess that answers that,” Alastair muttered dryly. “Does someone want to tell me why I’m being drugged?”

  With the exception of Ryker, who laughed uproariously, the seated family members all broke out in a cold sweat. It was one thing to drug Alastair on the down-low, but quite another to be caught in the act.

  Summer manned up and rose to her feet. “We intended to set you up.”

  Her father’s brows shot up at her admission. “That sounds ominous.”

  “Well, not for murder or anything,” she muttered with a nervous glance back at Coop. He gave her a nod of encouragement. “We want to lock you in with Mama,” she finally blurted.

  Alastair eyed the remainder of the cookie in his hand, shrugged, and popped it in his mouth. He dusted off his hands as he chewed. When he could speak, he said, “You could have asked, but no matter. If I appear sedated, Aurora might buy I had nothing to do with your little scheme.” He sent a side-glance toward Preston. “Please make sure all sharp objects are not within Rorie’s reach, mmm? She wakes a little testy these days.”

  “Already taken care of,” Preston assured him.

  “I’m sure you thought of everything.” Alastair yawned. “Except how livid Aurora is going to be when she wakes to find she’s been tricked into spending time in my company.”

  “You’ll have plausible deniability, Al.”

  “Splendid.” He sat down heavily with a dark frown at the cookie platter. “How much did you put in each one?”

  GiGi touched a hand to his wrist to feel his pulse, and did a quick check of his pupils. “Not a lot. Preston laced the first biscuit he gave you from the picnic basket.”

  “Who knew you were all so cunning?” Alastair murmured. He closed his eyes with a deep sigh. “I need help to my room.”

  “We have you covered, big brother.” Preston placed his large palm on the back of his brother’s head. “Just go to sleep now.”

  “Does someone want to check on Mama?” Winnie struggled to her feet and picked up the plate of cookies. “She should be out cold.”

  “I’ll go,” GiGi volunteered.

  Summer scooped up dishes and nodded to Coop. He understood her silent command and jumped into action along with Preston. They each propped one of Alastair’s arms over their shoulder.

  “Hold on, son. Once my sister gives the all clear, we’ll teleport him upstairs.”

  Preston gently laid his brother on the mattress next to Aurora and stood back to gaze down at the slumbering couple. They rolled toward each other, each subconsciously reaching for the comfort only the other could provide. When Aurora rested her head on Alastair’s chest, his face eased into a more relaxed expression. It was as if his body recognized the one he longed for was now in his arms.

  “That’s incredible,” Coop whispered in awe.

  “Two stubborn souls who both want the same thing but refuse to show any vulnerability while awake,” GiGi said.

  Preston chuckled. “You are the pot calling the kettle black, dear sister. There is a man downstairs who would lay down his life for one kind word from you.”

  “Ryker?” she scoffed. “You’re delusional.”

  “Mmhmm.” He refused to argue with her. She wasn’t rational where her husband was concerned. “Do a quick check of the room. Make sure nothing is left that Aurora might use to escape. Coop and I will remove what’s left of the furniture.”

  As GiGi removed anything with which to physically pick a lock or create a spell, Preston and Coop teleported the heavier furniture to a spare corner of the attic. All that was left was the bed and the sleeping couple.

  He conjured a second blanket and placed it over the lip of the footboard. “That should do it. Ready to work our magic?”

  His sister nodded and stepped into the ceremonial circle Summer had created. From her pocket, she pulled a piece of paper with the spell they would need. “You do realize this could backfire and they may end up never speaking to each other or any of us ever again, right?”

  Summer gasped and stared at GiGi as if she hadn’t thought of that possibility.

  Preston placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “That’s not going to happen. They’ll patch up their differences. They have to. The door won’t unlock unless they do.”

  “If you could forgive me for all the crap I put you through, then these two kids can make it work,” Coop told his fiancé. He kissed her cheek and headed for the door. “You’ve got this, babe. Don’t second guess yourself.”

  As Preston watched, Summer’s shoulders straightened and a becoming blush settled on her cheeks. Coop’s easy assurance did what no one else could do when it came to bolstering Summer’s confidence in herself. For that, Preston would always be grateful to her young man.

  “Let’s get started, shall we?” he suggested. “I don’t trust the sedatives will keep those two under for long.”

  The second the words came out of his mouth, his brother cracked his lids and peered at their group. Alastair surveyed them in a hazy daze and hugged Aurora tighter to him. Even half-asleep and out of it, he had no intention of allowing another
to hurt her.

  “It’s all right, Al,” GiGi said softly. “She’s safe.”

  Alastair graced them with a slow, sweet smile and closed his eyes again.

  Preston swallowed back the emotion clogging his throat. He wanted a love like theirs. So strong and true that instinct ruled over reason, and the fierce urge to protect overrode everything else. When he could tear his eyes from the two lovers, he noticed GiGi and Summer watching him warily.

  “I’m okay. I’m happy for them. I have no remaining jealousy,” he lied.

  The truth was he was insanely jealous, but it had more to do with the fact he wanted something equal to what they’d found. What it seemed everyone but him could find. He was the lonely man out in a sea of happy couples—with the exception of GiGi and Ryker. Yet he had no doubt they would find their way back to each other as well. Preston would gain Alastair’s assistance and make sure of it.

  Ducking his head, he bent to touch a fingertip to the closest candle wick. He drew the power from his cells and pushed it outward. The flame flared to life on the candle before him. With a soft smile, he blew. Each of the five candles encircling them lit in an impressive display of magic.

  GiGi uncorked a small jar filled with herbs and emptied the contents into a small metal bowl. With a nod to Summer, the ceremony began. The spell was complicated in that it required special wording. Not only did they want to ensure the doors and windows would stay locked against any powerful magic Alastair or Aurora might come up with, they needed to guarantee the lock would only disengage when the couple was completely honest with one another about their innermost feelings. The exception they added was in the event of a fire or attack.

  “That should do it,” GiGi said with satisfaction. “Close the circle, brother, and I’ll gather the remaining candles.”

  “Seems like our timing is perfect.” Summer pointed to Aurora, who sat up and blinked sleepily.

  “Come back to bed, my love,” Alastair murmured, drawing her down to him.

  At first, she settled with zero resistance, but something in her subconscious must have registered the wrongness of the scene she’d witnessed. With an outraged cry, Aurora jackknifed into a sitting position.

  “Hustle your butt,” Preston ordered his partners in crime.

  The three of them made it out and slammed the door just as Aurora was about to reach them.

  “You bloody bastard!” She screamed. “Open this door immediately!”

  “Can’t,” he called through the wood. “The locks won’t disengage until you and Alastair have a heart-to-heart and air your troubles.”

  “Preston, I won’t tell you again. Open this door, or I’ll break it down.”

  GiGi laughed. “I’d like to see you try.” She thumped a hand on the hardwood surface. “It’s solid, Rorie. You should settle back and get comfortable. You’re stuck for the duration.”

  “Go to the devil! The both of you!”

  Preston, GiGi, and Summer all stood silently and eyed each other, waiting to see what would happen next. They didn’t have long to wait.

  “What the blazes did you hit me for?” Alastair bellowed.

  His ripple of emotion was contained within the room, and for that, his siblings were grateful. If he wanted to, Alastair could level the house, spell or no spell.

  “Let’s go and leave them to it.” Preston urged his sister away from where she stood with one ear pressed to the door. “Come on, GiGi. They deserve some privacy.”

  “What if she murders him?”

  “Then we’ll have a bigger problem on our hands.”

  8

  Clearly Alastair’s family had felt that locking him and Aurora in together was vital to whatever scheme they had in mind, but when he found a way out, there would be hell to pay. Not by him. No, he found their machinations somewhat amusing. Aurora, on the other hand, was fit to be tied.

  “This!” She threw her arm out to encompass their current living conditions, which consisted of a nicely un-appointed bedroom. The only piece of furniture was the full-sized bed where he was currently reclining, his back against the headboard and legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles.

  “This is because of you!” she raged.

  “Me? Please, do explain your reasoning, my love.”

  She stormed to where he was and glared in all her self-righteous fury. “Don’t you ‘my love’ me, you schemer!” Folding her arms across her heaving chest, she fixed him with a determined I-intend-to-get-to-the-bottom-of-this look. “I would bet my life on the fact that you came up with this bloody idea.”

  “To lock us in together?” He laughed. “I should have. If you had me any less crazy, I most likely would have.”

  “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Alastair Thorne,” she seethed. “I don’t care how powerful you believe yourself to be. I’ll suffocate you in your sleep if I must.”

  His eyes swept her full chest, and his mouth twitched in his effort to curb his amusement. Yes, he would die a happy man if he could suffocate in those glorious breasts of hers.

  Her hands dropped to her hips, pushing all that lusciousness out farther.

  He itched to touch, but she’d probably manufacture a machete and take off the offending limb.

  She frowned and glanced around. “Speaking of powerful, I find it difficult to believe their spell is stronger than anything you can break. You should try.”

  An underlying panic coated Aurora’s words. It was subtle, but present nonetheless. Alastair doubted she realized she gave herself away. It begged the question; why was she that upset to be alone with him? The logical reason was that she feared she’d respond to any overtures he directed her way. But for that to happen, she had to still care.

  “No,” he said succinctly.

  “What?”

  “I said, no. I will not try to break the spell.”

  “But you must.” Her voice rose with each word.

  “Must I?” He sighed and swung his legs over the bed. For a brief moment, she continued to stand her ground. An indeterminate emotion flashed within her eyes, and she spun away, presenting her back.

  “Rorie, come here,” he commanded softly.

  “No,” she croaked out.

  He went to her instead. They were separated by inches, but it could have been miles. This woman he loved was as stubborn as they came. He clenched his fists behind his back in an effort not to pull her to him and offer comfort. The fact that she was conflicted and possibly hurting was apparent.

  “Let me help you.”

  “I told you before, I don’t want your help, Alastair.”

  “You’d rather walk around with half a soul than allow me to restore a portion of what was lost?”

  She whipped around to face him. “You’ve said that before. What does it mean?”

  “If you’ll permit me to touch you, I can jump-start the healing process. Like those of us who’ve crossed over before, a part of you will always remain in the Otherworld. It’s impossible to heal completely, but a good portion of your former self can be revived.” He reached out a hand and stopped just shy of touching her chest. “May I?”

  “No.”

  She’d surprised him with her refusal. “You don’t want to gain what was lost, or you don’t want my help?”

  “I refuse to be indebted to you.” Her closed, resolute expression caused his stomach to flip.

  “You won’t be. I owe you for saving my life. Consider it repayment.” He focused on the wall beyond her shoulder. “I’ll help you, and you are free of me.”

  “Not until we are honest with one another, apparently.”

  “Somehow I doubt that’s going to happen. You can’t even be honest with yourself.”

  Her lip curled back in a snarl. As she opened her mouth to reply, he held up a hand.

  “Don’t, Aurora. Whatever ugliness you are about to spew, keep it to yourself.” His voice sounded tired even to his own ears. “Bottom line, until we reveal our deepest, darkest feelings, that door is stay
ing locked. Knowing Preston, GiGi, and your girls, it’s unlikely I can reverse it.” He met her frustrated gaze. “Preston is as strong as I am.”

  She frowned and glanced toward the door. “Really? You’re so…so…” With a wave of her hand, she dismissed what she was going to say. “It doesn’t matter. We’re stuck. In all probability, for good because you don’t know how to be truthful with anyone.”

  He jerked at the potshot. Granted, part of her anger was due to her disorientation with returning to the living plane, but her comment went deeper. She was taking aim at his character, which was unlike her. “What the devil is that supposed to mean?”

  “Exactly what I said.” Aurora moved to stare out the French doors overlooking the estate.

  Alastair could feel his temper fraying. If she kept up the poor-martyr routine, he was likely to wring her damned neck.

  Abruptly, she spun away from the view and frantically scanned the room. Her eyes lit on the wrought iron sconce hanging by the bed. She charged over and yanked it from the wall.

  Because he had a good idea what she intended, Alastair leaned a shoulder against the bathroom doorjamb and let Aurora have the room she needed.

  First, she eyed the doors then turned her attention to the window. Hefting the sconce, she took a few practice swings.

  He opened his mouth to caution her but closed it just as quickly. She wouldn’t believe him anyway, so she might as well learn the hard way that the glass was bulletproof. Preston had it replaced not long after the witches’s war.

  The initial swing nearly knocked her on her backside and forced Alastair to muffle a chuckle with his hand. If looks could set him on fire, he’d be a pile of ash. “You could have told me it was unbreakable,” she snapped as she shook out her arms.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” He barely managed to move in time. The metal embedded in the drywall next to his head. Her throwing arm was impressive to say the least. He perused the spot where his head had previously been. “You still have great aim, my love.”