The Magician's Blood

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The Magician's Blood Page 8

by Linda G. Hill


  Herman swallowed hard, wanting him but wanting to know about his past and his visions for the future more. “Why are you telling me this now, other than the obvious?”

  “The obvious being that I want to make love to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I guess I’ve wanted to get it off my chest for a long time. But mostly I want you to know that with everything that has happened today, and all that you’ve learned about me—”

  “Yet again,” she interrupted.

  “Yes, yet again.” He smiled. “I want to make sure you know that even though your perception of me may have changed, I’m still the same person I have been since long before you even knew me, and the same person you’ve come to know. I’ve been searching for true love for a long time. And I don’t think it makes a difference whether I rarely met anyone or I had twenty women throwing themselves at me in one day. I still felt as though I might be missing something. That’s why I was so relieved the moment I saw you, when I knew that I didn’t have to question whether or not you were The One.

  “My life, up until now, has been like an audition. My existence has revolved around intimacy, but I haven’t had anyone to receive it, or to give it to. It’s been like a dream of love, empty of all substance. Mechanical sex is nothing compared with what we share. It’s like looking at a picture of a lake as opposed to swimming in one. It’s like freezing to death with a lighter in your hand as opposed to sitting before a fire, curled up with a blanket. Before I met you, I was an empty shell with only the dream of love to keep me warm.

  “I am so grateful to have found you, Herman. And honestly, I don’t really care if we make love tonight, up here or anywhere. I’m simply happy to be with you.”

  She felt her shoulders relax and realized she’d been tense. Squeezing his hands, she asked, “Can we go downstairs then? Have a drink or two or three on the patio outside and then decide? Would that be okay?” Despite his reassurance, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for the playroom and all its history.

  “Sure,” he said.

  As they descended the spiral staircase, the candles went out.

  They didn’t make it up past their bedroom that night.

  CHAPTER 10

  The second flight of Herman’s life was an incredibly smooth one compared to the turbulence they’d experienced on the way to Vancouver months ago. So it wasn’t until the plane touched the tarmac on a chilly autumn day in Edmonton that her nerves began to sharpen. Herman hung onto Stephen with a neediness that reminded her of their trip together to Ottawa.

  She had arranged for her Aunt Beryl to bring Chad to the venue early to meet them before the show that night. Their front-row seats were purchased, plus one—she still wasn’t sure when she would see their father, but she had bought one for him, too, in case he showed up. This, alone, had her on edge.

  Margaret stood at the front of the throng of people waiting for the arriving passengers when they came out of the gate to retrieve their luggage. It had been a while since they’d spent more than a day with her, and Herman was happy to join her for a few days before Margaret needed to be off ahead of them again. She had missed having her friend to hang out with.

  As they headed toward the exit with their bags, Herman saw her father watching them, frowning. Standing with his hands in the pockets of his brown leather jacket, his longish dark hair and slender figure gave him the feminine look he must present on stage. Herman was shocked that she hadn’t been aware of it before. She hurried over and hugged him, Stephen and Margaret not far behind her.

  “You’ve changed,” he said critically, holding her at arms’ length and looking her up and down. With her heels on, she was able to look him straight in the eye.

  “I have nice clothes if that’s what you mean,” Herman said, not sure what to make of his comment.

  “And makeup.” He smiled at her, finally. “You look pretty.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a deep exhalation.

  “You’ve grown up so much over the past six months. He’s treating you okay?” he asked, glancing at Stephen.

  Herman nodded and turned to look at him too. He and Margaret stood a little way back so they couldn’t hear them. Stephen smiled at her.

  “I hope you appreciate how much self-control it takes not to wipe the smirk off his face,” George said, his hands balled into fists.

  “I was actually hoping you might be civil. But if all you want to do is hit him, then I suppose we should just go.”

  She started toward Stephen, but George grabbed her hand to stop her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Stephen take a step forward; he was held back by Margaret.

  “Maybe you two should just have a fight and get it out of your systems,” she said to her dad.

  “Don’t tempt me. I’d beat him to a pulp.”

  Herman stood in his line of sight and forced him to look her in the eye. Tears were starting to form, and she wanted her dad to see them. “Don’t make me choose between you, Dad. Not if you don’t want to lose me for good.”

  George took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He opened them and said, “I’ll try.” Together they walked over to Stephen and Margaret.

  “Dagmar,” George said, taking a balanced stance.

  “Hello, George.” Stephen spoke slightly more casually.

  “You’re teaching Herman all the tricks of the trade?”

  “If you mean how to be my assistant, of course. Herman hasn’t wanted to explore any real magic, though. She wanted to wait to talk to you.”

  “That’s a wise decision,” her father said slowly, looking rather confused. “I’ll take her out for dinner to speak to her privately while I’m in town.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, George. I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

  Even though she stood a foot away from him, Herman felt the tenseness return to her father’s body. She hadn’t expected the same reaction from Stephen. She quickly stepped between them.

  “Don’t I have a say in the matter?” she asked, facing her father.

  “No,” he said.

  “No,” she heard from behind her.

  “What do you mean ‘no’?” she asked, spinning around to look at Stephen.

  “Apart from the fact that he’s going to say anything to get you away from me, I wouldn’t put it past him to try to kidnap you on the misconceived assumption that it’s what’s best for you.

  “And besides,” Stephen continued, looking at George over Herman’s head, “if you are going to teach her whatever it is she might have inherited from you, I’m going to be the one to help her practice it.”

  “Like fuck you are, Dagmar. What the hell do you know about magic anyway? All you are is a two-bit illusionist-slash-hypnotist.”

  “You’ll never know for sure unless I’m there when you to talk to Herman.”

  “And why should I let you have all my secrets?” George asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. If Herman decides she wants to pursue her own abilities, you know damned well I’ll get them from her anyway.”

  George took a step toward Stephen, this time getting around Herman. She put her arm out to stop him, but he pushed her away so forcefully that she spun around. She didn’t see Stephen hit her father, she only heard an “oof” as the air escaped him. When she turned again, Margaret at her side, Stephen stood behind George, twisting his arm around his back.

  “You will never touch her in any way that is disrespectful again,” Stephen said directly into George’s ear. “Do you understand?”

  “You’re telling me how I should treat my own daughter now?” George groaned.

  “I’m telling you how to treat the woman I love.” Stephen wrenched his arm upward a little more.

  Herman regarded the scene with her hands over her mouth.

  “Okay,” George said. “I hear you.”

  Stephen let go and George rubbed his shoulder. “You almost broke my fucking ar
m.”

  “Don’t underestimate me. I’m not likely the one who will end up at the bottom.

  “Now, we have a show to get ready for,” Stephen said briskly, holding his hand out for Herman. To George, he said, “I’d be honored if you would bring your son and your sister-in-law to see us perform. Herman reserved front-row tickets for the three of you.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” George said with a grimace.

  “Could you excuse us for a minute, Stephen?” Herman took her father by his good arm and walked away without waiting for an answer.

  “Dad, please. If you come to the show with this attitude, you’re going to make me nervous. You know as well as I do how dangerous that could be for me.”

  “I’m sorry, Herman. Stephen Dagmar really gets under my skin.”

  “I’ve noticed. I don’t understand what it is you hate about him so much.”

  “Maybe not, but I understand exactly what he’s done to you to make you want to stay with him.”

  “What, love me?”

  “Is that what he calls it?”

  Herman turned to walk away but he held her back.

  “Okay, maybe he does care about you,” he said, rubbing his shoulder again. “Will you get away from him long enough to talk to me? How did he know that I may have passed down magic to you, anyway?”

  “Mama told us.”

  George regarded Stephen again with a frown.

  “But Stephen already knew you had powers. He told me before we saw Mama in Ottawa. It only makes sense that you might have passed them on through your genes.”

  “But how did he …” George started, then shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Will you come and have dinner with me to talk about it?”

  “Not without Stephen. I want him there.”

  “Then I’ll have to think about whether or not to tell you,” George said.

  “Can I just ask you one thing?” She thought if the feud between her father and Stephen was going to continue, this might be her only chance.

  “What?”

  “Why did Mama say you considered your powers to be a curse?”

  George leveled his hazel-green eyes at hers. Strange that those eyes still looked so familiar, even though her view of him had changed. Everything had changed.

  “It’s the nature of my powers that’s a curse. Not all of them, but some.”

  He gave her a brief one-armed hug. “I’ll see you later. And I promise I’ll be good at the show. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled and walked away without looking back. She thought he probably didn’t want to watch her return to Stephen.

  * * *

  “I want to make love to you,” Stephen said as the door of their hotel room closed with a clack.

  “Why, because you want to make sure you still have more power over me than my father does?” She threw her bag onto the bed and turned to him.

  He smiled. “Very astute of you. You’re probably right to a degree. But that doesn’t change anything.” He rubbed the front of his jeans to adjust himself.

  “Shouldn’t we be getting ready for the show?”

  There was a knock at the door; Herman passed him to answer it. Margaret stood outside with her cell phone in her hand, texting.

  “We have fifteen minutes to get to the venue before the pizzas arrive. I’m buying,” she said without looking up. “It’s a twenty-minute drive, let’s go.”

  “You’re exaggerating,” Stephen called from near the bed. “You always do.”

  “Not by much. Let’s go!”

  “Lover boy wants sex before we go,” Herman said.

  “Come on, lover boy, no time for that.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  Margaret looked past Herman and she turned to see Stephen at the end of the bed, shirtless and slowly stroking the front of his jeans.

  “Hurry up,” Margaret said with a wave of her hand as she stalked away.

  Herman let the door close.

  “You heard the lady,” Stephen said as he undid his fly and reached in to release his erect cock.

  Herman sighed. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want to own you.” He placed his hands at her waist and drew her to him.

  “What if I don’t want to be owned?”

  “Silly question. Of course you do.” He kissed her hungrily, then spun her around to face the bed. Bending her over, he lifted her skirt and shifted her panties out of the way. He entered her first with his fingers and finding her ready, he wet the head of his penis with saliva from his hand and slid himself into her, insistently, one thrust at a time until he was all the way in. Her moans ended in sharp screams each time he pushed himself to her limit, hastening his climax, and soon he was arched backward from the groin, holding her hips and orgasming forcefully into her.

  He recovered quickly and whispered tender words between his kisses to the back of her neck. Being owned wasn’t nearly as bad as it sounded, she thought.

  Five minutes later, in the limo on the way to the venue, Margaret wrinkled her nose and told Herman, “You’re going to need to wash before you get changed for the show. And definitely before you see your family.”

  “He did that good a job of marking his territory, did he?”

  “It wasn’t to ‘mark my territory,’” Stephen said. “I simply felt like making love to my girlfriend. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Stephen, you’re a primal male and you don’t even realize it,” Margaret said.

  “Of course I do. But I still think the two of you are making more out of it than there actually is.”

  “You left your scent on me,” Herman pointed out.

  “Be that as it may, I didn’t do it intentionally. I didn’t mean for you to smell like sex when you came out. Believe it or not, I want to gain your father’s trust, not alienate him even more.

  “Making love to you was for me,” Stephen said, gazing at her face as though attempting to memorize every curve. “To soothe my own insecurities.”

  “You don’t need to feel insecure. My dad won’t take me away from you, no matter what he says. I trust you, and I know all his distrust of you comes from not knowing your family history.”

  “We have a long way to go before I’m going to tell him anything to do with my family.”

  “I know.”

  They arrived at the venue, greeted by the usual gaggle of groupies who knew their schedule and were following them across the country. Most were young women, though a couple who were middle-aged rounded out the group. All vied for Stephen’s attention. He smiled and waved to them as he and Herman and Margaret hurried through the door that led to the backstage area.

  Margaret stayed at the door to wait for the pizzas and Stephen offered to help Herman get washed before they started rehearsing. They went into the ladies’ room together, where she made a comment that he should probably wash too, so they both stripped from the waist down. With soapy hands they washed each other, which led them to agree that since they were there and they had the facilities to get clean afterward anyway, why not make washing worthwhile?

  They were in the same position as they had been when they made love in the hotel room, facing the sink, when Margaret walked in.

  “Oh, for fuck sakes!” she exclaimed and walked back out again.

  While they were washing and dressing for the final time, Herman mentioned that Margaret hadn’t seemed happy lately.

  “She gets grumpy when she’s not getting any. Especially if I am,” Stephen said. “She’ll go out later and get drunk, then she’ll find someone to bring to her room for the night.”

  “That seems really sad,” Herman observed.

  “She’ll be okay. She probably misses Mark.”

  “Do you think they’ll get back together?”

  “I don’t know. She hasn’t talked to me about it much. Maybe she’
ll talk to you,” he suggested as he zipped up his fly.

  “You’d better not put those panties back on.” He nodded at the article of clothing in question, already in her hands. “They smell.”

  “Good point.”

  “So before you go up the ladder for rehearsal, you’d better get changed into your costume.” He grinned. “Because if I watch you go up in that skirt, we’re going to need another wash.”

  She smiled back. “Can’t you control yourself for five minutes?”

  “Around you, not a chance.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. “It’s going to be hard enough just knowing you’re naked under your skirt.”

  The door opened, and Margaret called to say the pizzas had arrived.

  “Coming!” Stephen said.

  “Show-off!” Margaret yelled back as the door closed.

  Stephen laughed and slapped Herman lightly on the bum to get her moving toward the door.

  CHAPTER 11

  .

  Herman experienced a few anticipatory jitters in rehearsal when she simultaneously climbed up and down the ladder, but apart from that, it went well. She reminded herself of the dozens of performances they’d done since Ottawa, when her nerves had caused her to lose count. But her family—her father—would be in the audience, watching her every bit as much as everyone else watched Stephen, and this had her as stressed out as she had been during her first performance.

  She was standing on the stage behind the curtain, doing a last-minute check of the props before the show, when Chad, her father, and her aunt came in, led by one of the stagehands. Her brother ran to her and stopped short, as if he wasn’t sure it was cool to embrace his sister. To relieve him of his indecision, Herman held her arms out and he gave her a warm hug.

  “Hey Chad!” she said. “I’ve missed you. You’ve grown!” He had, about three inches; he was almost as tall as she was.

  He released her and smiled. “So have you!”

  “What do you mean? I’m not any taller.”

  “But you look older.”

  “You too. I’m sorry I missed your twelfth birthday.”

 

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