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Why? For Goddess' sake, why did she go and dress up in her full-moon best for a man she didn't even like?
To punish him, that's why. To show him just what he's missing by brushing me off as too weird or too intelligent, too female or too young for his tastes. Let him see what he's missing and live the rest of his life writhing in agony over his foolish pride back at the hospital. And before, when I was younger, and he shunned me so often.
She told herself it meant nothing, that she had forgotten all about it long ago. But it was a lie. She'd adored him when she'd been a child, and he'd tossed her hero worship back into her face. Well, let him just take a good look now at what he'd rejected back then.
And if that's what she wanted, it was working, because he couldn't seem to take his eyes off her.
"Aurora," he said in a choked voice.
"Hello, Nathan. How is your...elbow?"
"Still pretty sore," he said. "But amazingly enough, everything else seems to be back in working order."
"Who could have guessed?" she asked sweetly.
He lowered his head. "You could. And you did, and I was an idiot. Okay?"
She blinked twice, standing at the bottom of the staircase. "Was that an apology?"
"Maybe," he admitted, coming forward, crossing the room until he stood a foot from her, facing her. "Let's not forget, I wasn't the only one who was obnoxious in that emergency room."
"So, you're expecting an apology from me?"
He let his gaze dip lower, slowly, and brought it up to her eyes again. "I'll tell you what, Aurora. That dress is apology enough for me. What do you say we call it even?" He said it softly, for her ears alone.
She felt her face drain of color. "This dress is no apology to you, Nathan. I wore it because I'm too old to stick out my tongue and thumb my nose at you. But you're obviously too dense to get the message."
"The only message I'm getting from that number, honey, is 'come and get it.' "
"The only message this number is sending out, honey, is 'you can't have it.' "
"Hey, did I say I wanted it?"
"Your pants said it for you." She sent a meaningful glance at the changing shape behind his zipper and lifted her brows, daring him to deny it. "You were right. Everything seems to be back in working order."
It seemed he'd run out of comebacks.
She smirked, but only for a moment. It was when she saw her three aunts grabbing for their coats, and the little emergency totebag they kept near the door, that she felt her smugness turn to panic.
"Where do you three think you're going?" she asked, trying not to sound desperate.
"To see Daniel, dear," Merri announced calmly.
"Nathan's father, Aurora."
"He's ill. It's the least we can do."
"Yes, I have the best remedies for allergies like this," Flora added, running into the hallway where bundles of herbs hung upside-down to dry, and snatching a sprig of this and a pinch of that to take along.
"But...but...Aunt Flora, the man owns his own drugstores!"
Aunt Flora put a hand to her mouth and tittered delicately. "You're such a joker, Aurora. As if a drugstore compares to a Witch when it comes to remedies."
Aurora gave her head a shake. "Well...what about dinner?"
"You'll have to play hostess tonight, dear," Aunt Merri chided. "It's your duty. You do right by our guest, and don't embarrass us."
"Everything's ready, Aurora," Fauna called. "It's all on the warming rack. Just take it out and eat."
"Enjoy!" Flora sang out as she headed through the door.
And that was that.
"Well," Aurora said, hands on her hips. She stared at the door they'd just exited for a long moment, then turned to face Nathan again. "I hate to tell you this, but I think we're being...fixed up."
"I thought my father's cough sounded a little overblown," he said wryly. "He must be in on it with them."
Aurora stared at him, eyes narrowing. "Was this your idea, Nathan?"
"I told you, I like dumb girls who like to have a good time. Glenda the Good Witch is not my style.
She looked at his crotch. "Oh, I can see that.”
"Go ride a broom, why don't you?"
"We don't ride our brooms, you idiot."
"Hey, don't tell me what you do use them for. I don't think my heart can take it."
"I don't think your zipper can."
He sighed, looked at the floor, and shook his head. "Dammit, Aurora, I can't believe I came here thinking I could ask you for help when you're every bit as defensive and touchy as you ever were."
"You try growing up with half the local ignoramuses thinking you're some kind of Satanic nutcase and see how defensive and touchy you—" She blinked and stared at him. "What do you mean, you came here to ask for my help?"
"I never, ever thought you were Satanic."
"I don't even believe in the devil," she told him.
"Well that's a relief. I was beginning to think you thought I was him."
"The way you teased me, back then..." she began. "I thought you were as superstitious and bigoted as the rest of them."
"I was a kid. Kids are idiots sometimes. Hell, Aurora, I teased all my friends." He frowned a little, and tilted his head. "I should have thought harder, though. I guess you took about all the teasing you could handle. My adding to it didn't help a bit, did it?"
"I don't see how anyone could think it would help at all." She blew air through her teeth. "Not that it bothered me in the least."
"Only enough so you're still angry about it."
"Do you want to eat, or what?"
"No. I want to tell you something."
She lifted her head, met his eyes, and thought he looked sincere. "What?"
"I think ...I might have..." He closed his eyes briefly and clenched his jaw. "This is going to sound insane."
Frowning, she scanned his face. "Is this something physical? What do you think you have, Nathan?" The doctor in her was at full alert as she searched his face, mentally noting the healthy color of his skin, and the clarity of his eyes. Brown eyes, velvety brown, with darker stripes. Eyes that were looking into hers right now with...
She blinked and looked away.
He lowered his head. "Yeah, it's physical all right, but not the way you think. I think I might have some kind of curse on me, Aurora. Does that sound crazy?"
She took a step away from him, watching his face, wary of a trick to make her look foolish. "A curse? I didn't think you believed in that sort of thing."
"I don't. Do you?"
"Of course."
"So, did you?"
She frowned up at him. "Did I what?" She opened her eyes wider and lifted her brows. "You want to know if I hexed you, Nathan?"
He only nodded.
She closed her eyes to hide the flash of pain she felt. Unexpected, unreasonable, but real. "I always thought..." Biting her lip, she shook her head and turned away.
"Aurora?" He touched her shoulder, bringing her gently around to face him again. "You always thought what?"
"That you were the only one who wasn't afraid of me, Nathan. The only one who didn't seem to think that being a Witch made me some kind of monster." She shook her head. "I guess I was wrong."
His brows furrowed when she felt the barest hint of moisture burning in her eyes. He leaned closer, staring at it there, as if he couldn't quite believe it.
“For the record, Nathan, I would cut off my hand before I would hurt anyone. I don't even kill spiders, for Goddess' sake."
He looked slightly ashamed. But he offered no apology. "Hell, if you had a Witch who hated your guts living around the corner, combined with the kind of luck I've had lately, you'd probably think—"
"I'd think of asking for some help," she said. She walked past him into the dining room and sat down at the little round table with the crystal ball and the cards. "So what makes you think it's a curse? Maybe the things that have been happening to you are for the best, did
you ever think of that? A lot of people think they're having bad luck. Missing planes or appointments or having their cars break down—when in fact, the delays and such are really protecting them from disasters."
"Yeah, well this delay isn't saving me from anything but pleasure."
"Really?" She lifted her brows. "So you really believe it's a curse?"
He came closer, but didn't sit. "The evidence sort of makes it hard not to believe it."
"What evidence?" she asked him.
He sighed and met her eyes. "I can't get laid to save my life."
Aurora bit her lip. She grated her teeth. She held her breath. Nothing worked. She burst out laughing uncontrollably. And she regretted it instantly when his face darkened with furious anger, and he whirled around and slammed out of the house without a backward glance.
Her laughter died slowly as she stared after him. And then she titled her head to one side, frowning. "My Goddess," she whispered. "He was serious." She went after him, called his name out into the night, but he was already slamming his car door and roaring the engine.
She thought about making it stall so she could go and apologize. But messing with his car wasn't a good idea, and it might be considered manipulative magick, not letting him leave when he clearly wanted to. A Witch mustn't mess with another person's free will. No manipulation. Then again, she wasn't supposed to hurt anyone either. And she had a hollow feeling that maybe she just had. Badly.
Chapter Three
"Aurora Rose Sortilege, what did you do?" Aunt Merriwether looked very upset as she stood there with her hands on her hips, glaring.
"I didn't mean it," she said, and she knew she sounded like a six-year-old. "He was so obnoxious. He made me angry, and then he told me something and I thought–well, I didn't think. I laughed at him." She drew a breath, cringing beneath the shocked expressions on her aunts' faces. "I know I shouldn't have done it, but it just came out. And then I realized he was sincerely asking for help, but by then it was too late. He was furious, and stormed out of here like the hotheaded childish brat he is."
"I can't say that I blame him," Merriwether retorted.
"Oh, Aurora, men have such easily wounded pride, you know. You shouldn't have laughed." Fauna wrung her hands as if this was the most horrible of circumstances.
"Look, don't worry about it. I never liked him and he never liked me and we'll probably never see each other again, so—"
"I'm afraid that won't do, sweetheart," Flora said sadly. She looked at the others. "I think it's time we told her."
"I knew it! What have you three been keeping from me?"
Tiny, delicate-looking Flora faced her, while the other two waved their hands wildly as if to tell her to keep quiet. "Darling, there's a secret the Sortilege Witches keep—the secret of our powers. The reason our magick is so much stronger than that of most other practitioners of The Craft."
Merriwether and Fauna stopped gesturing and frowned, as if they had no more clue what she was getting at than Aurora did.
"I thought..." Aurora said in confusion. "I thought it was just the bloodline. The power of our ancestors, and all that."
"No dear. There's more to it than that. A secret you must vow never to tell, unless it becomes absolutely necessary. I never would have told it to you, dear, except perhaps on my deathbed. But now you must know."
Aurora leaned forward, brows lifting high. This sounded so dire.
"Every Sortilege Witch is destined to lose her powers, her gifts, her magick—on the day she turns twenty-seven, my child."
Aurora drew back as if her petite aunt had slapped her. She'd be twenty-seven in a little over twenty-four hours. At midnight on Halloween! Tomorrow! "No!"
"Oh, yes. I'm afraid it's true."
"My–my healing!"
"Well, you can still practice medicine, dear, but—"
"No. This can't be, Aunt Flora, please!" Panic was making her heart beat wildly in her chest. She couldn't lose her healing gift. Suppose some injured child was brought in, like the one last month with the ruptured spleen, who'd been wheeled past her in the hall after the physician on call had missed the diagnosis. He'd have died if her special sense hadn't told her what was wrong.
"What can I do?" She gripped her aunt's shoulders, and searched her face. "There's something. Yes, there must be! You still have your magick. All of you do!"
She turned to Merriwether and Fauna, but they only shook their heads and nodded at Flora to go on.
"Yes, child. There's one way you can keep your magick. But I'm afraid you're not going to like it very much."
"I don't care! I'll do anything. Tell me."
Flora cleared her throat. "You have to have...er...relations...with a man before your twenty-seventh birthday, dear. And the man has to be–well–pure."
"Pure?"
"Unsullied," Fauna said helpfully.
"Oh, for heaven's sakes," Merri put in. "A virgin. The man has to be a virgin. Now do you understand why we're so upset with you for driving Nathan off the way you did?''
Aurora stood still, gave her head a shake, but they were all still there, still looking at her expectantly.
"That has to be the most ridiculous bunch of..." She stared, wide-eyed, from one of them to the other. "But you have to be joking. I mean, it makes no sense. I've never heard of anything so bizarre!"
"We're not joking, darling," Flora denied gently. "So I suggest you begin making amends with that young man. And the sooner the better."
The reality of it hit her then. They were telling her she had two choices—lose her powers, or sleep with Nathan McBride.
"Wait," she said, racking her brain. "There must be some other male in town who's still a virgin."
"Of course, dear. Over at the high school, perhaps, but they'd arrest you for that"
"Aunt Merri! I didn't mean—" She pushed her hands through her hair and began pacing. What was she going to do? What in the world was she going to do? "There has to be another virgin! Anyone but him!"
"Even in our day, we had trouble finding them, child," Merriwether explained. "It's long been tradition for...yes, for the older women of the family to see to it that one young man remained chaste, so that when the time came..."
Aurora's eyes widened until she felt they would burst. "It was you? You three are the ones who hexed Nathan?"
"We didn't hex him, dear. We just interfered a bit. A little binding spell. A little spying in the crystal. A little–"
"Aunt Merri, you ran him over with his own car! I wouldn't call that little!"
"That was an accident! We'd never hurt the boy. Well, not deliberately."
Aurora pressed her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes. "I'm going to my rooms," she said. "I have to meditate."
#
"Flora, that was positively ingenious," Merri exclaimed, hugging her small sister hard after Aurora had gone out of earshot. "How did you ever come up with it?"
"Well, she was going to blow the whole thing. We couldn't let that happen, could we?"
Fauna shook her head. "It was awfully mean, though. And where did you come up with that deadline? By her birthday?"
"If we don't hurry, that young man will kill himself trying to get past our spells to get his well, you know."
"Halloween's a good date anyway," Merri said practically. "It's going to work out perfectly. You picked the one thing she would never risk losing—her healing gift. It was brilliant."
"But poor Aurora. This isn't going to be easy for her. And I hate that we had to lie to her like that," Flora fretted.
"We'll tell her the truth later. She'll understand. And she won't mind, once she falls in love with Nathan."
Fauna, though, was still shaking her head. She paced to the table, picked up her favorite Tarot deck, and drew a single card. "Two of Swords. Ladies, you're forgetting. Our divinations told us Nathan was to be the father of Aurora's little girl. But not that they'd ever fall in love. There's a good chance they won't."
"Not
fall in love?" Flora asked in dismay.
"Have a child and not be together?" Merri added.
"It's possible."
Merri wrung her hands and began to pace. “Oh, my. Oh, dear. We can't have that.”
#
Aurora didn't sleep all night. She couldn't even lie still. Mostly, she paced as various scenarios played out in her mind. This couldn't be true. It was too ludicrous to be true. Her aunts must be playing some horribly cruel trick on her. But why? They were eccentric, yes. And meddlesome. But this...
Maybe this was just a matchmaking scheme gone too far. Maybe they were just trying to set her up with the man they perceived to be perfect for her.
Perfect for her? Nathan McBride?
She groaned softly and paced some more. She supposed it was possible they were matchmaking.
But what if they weren't? What if she really would lose her healing gift?
Closing her eyes, Aurora realized she couldn't risk that. Even sleeping with Nathan would be better than that. And besides, she'd only have to do it once. Right? Just one night with Nathan, and she could relax. She grimaced and shuddered a little. One night with Nathan. Maybe if she got really drunk first...
For just a moment, she pictured Nathan trying to rid himself of his virginity all these years, with her aunts constantly interfering. The thought made her smile, and then made her laugh softly. Poor Nathan. No wonder he thought he was cursed.
But this wasn't funny, and her laughter turned sour. She didn't have any choice here. She was going to have to make nice with Nathan. She was going to have to–she bit her lip and made a face–seduce him. Oh, Goddess, if this did turn out to be a trick she was going to strangle those aunts of hers!
Meanwhile, though, she was just going to have to straighten her spine, lift her chin, and get through this thing. She was strong. She was a Sortilege Witch, for goodness' sake. She could do it.
Unless, of course, Nathan wasn't willing.
Nathan, twenty-nine and still a virgin. So frustrated he'd actually made himself come to her for help. Mercy, he'd be more than willing.
Chapter Four
Three Witches and a Zombie Page 4
