Her first instinct was to run to him and the reassurance of his comforting arms, but she restrained herself. His tone held disapproval, and at the moment she needed solace.
She placed her tote bag aside to take upstairs later and walked with her head high to the atrium. Dagon followed.
She discarded her white sandals and the purple fringed shawl she had tied around her waist to the stone bench just inside the atrium. Her pale blue dress gave way at her waist to fall straight to her ankles. She reached up and released the combs she had artfully secured in her hair, giving the long blond strands freedom with a shake of her head.
She was about to ease herself down on the wicker settee when she felt his hand on hers. She looked up into those dark eyes that knew all her secrets and loved her still the same, and she was lost.
Dagon had her in his arms before the first tear reached her cheek. “I swear I will kill him.”
She shook her head between sobs. “I love him.”
“Does he love you,” he asked, holding her tight and attempting to ease her pain.
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, he does, very much.”
He held her close as he eased them down on the settee. “He has accepted who you are... a witch?”
Ali wasn’t sure how to answer. Sebastian had accepted the magic of their love, but her being a witch? Her special powers? They were still very much an issue.
Dagon sighed. “He still doesn’t realize who you are, does he?”
“I thought I might have some time,” she admitted, feeling foolish.
“You thought to keep him from admitting he loves you?” He eased her away from him and cast a stern glance on her. “He’s mortal.”
“He’s different,” she insisted and moved back into his arms, not wanting to see the concern and sympathy for her in his eyes.
Dagon took a deep breath, a sure sign to Ali that he was attempting to control his temper.
“You have a few weeks at the most; if he doesn’t openly accept who you are, then you will begin to fade from his memory.”
“I don’t need reminding. I cast the stupid spell.”
“No, you were stupid to cast the spell.”
She moved away from him and sent him a scathing look. “I saw an opportunity for true love and I took it.”
“Then fight for it,” she ordered sharply. “You always fought for what you felt was important to you.”
Tear clouded her eyes once more. “I know, but this love is so strong it fogs my senses.”
“You have your powers,” he reminded.
“And when he sees what I am capable of, what will he do?” she asked fearfully.
“That will depend on his love for you.”
“He is practical and logical.”
Dagon laughed. “Of course, he’s a mortal.”
“You make it sound like he has a disease.”
“A weakness,” he corrected. “Show him true strength and courage.”
She sighed. “He possesses both in abundance.”
“Then perhaps there is hope for him after all.”
She swatted his arm. “You would like him.”
“I will like him if he does right by you.”
“You would like him regardless,” she insisted and snuggled into the corner of the settee, tucking her bare feet beneath her and hugging the white pillow she pulled from behind her back.
Dagon offered advice and reassurance. “You face your greatest challenge. One you have chosen yourself. You will do what is necessary and do it with pride and tenacity. Then you will not fail.”
She smiled. “Such confidence in me.”
“I have picked you up and brushed you off many times. Your courage never wavered; that is what I admire and respect the most about you.”
“Because you possess the same sterling qualities.”
He laughed. “We are much alike.”
Ali reached her hand out to him, and he grasped it tightly. “You are the brother I never had and always wanted.”
“And you, dear heart, are the pesky little sister I had always prayed for and finally got.”
“I was never a pest,” she protested with a laugh.
He raised his brow.
“Well, maybe just a little.”
Dagon brought her hand to his lips and kissed her gently. “You must follow your heart even if it hurts.”
“I know, but this is one time I fear for the outcome.”
“Just be sure to be a pest and you’re sure to win,” he said, teasing her worry away.
She swatted at him again. “It serves you right that Sebastian did a search on you.” It was easier telling him when he was in a teasing mood; he was less likely to anger.
“I,” he emphasized, thumbing his chest, “unlike some, look before I leap.”
With a squint of her eyes, she took herself deep in thought and into his mind. “You doctored your records.”
He laughed. “And you, dear heart, have restored your powers tenfold. I am impressed, though unprepared. You shall not invade my thoughts again.”
She shrugged. “I found what I needed, and besides, Sebastian knows you were only a ploy.”
“I could have told you that. My own research on the man indicated an above-average intelligence level, though stubborn in nature.”
She sighed and asked for advice. “How do I get past it?”
“Honesty,” he answered. “Sebastian respects it and expects it. Don’t play him for a fool. He isn’t one and will not take lightly being treated as such.”
“So what do I do? Turn him into a toad to demonstrate my powers and hope he doesn’t croak?”
Dagon laughed heartily, and Ali couldn’t help but join in the laughter.
He shook his head and attempted to control his humor. “Be yourself.”
“In time,” she said nervously.
He leaned closer to her and tapped her nose. “You don’t have much of that, but you have something better.”
“What’s that?”
He smiled. “You have his love.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Carol Smithers quietly entered Sebastian’s private office after gently tapping on his door. He looked at her as she approached his desk and was amazed to see that something or someone had flustered the usually composed woman. In all the years she had worked for him, he had never seen her face flushed as it was now or her hands shake even though she had them clasped together.
“Sir,” she said, having to clear her voice since she croaked more than spoke the word. “Sir, there is a gentleman to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment but he assures me you will want to talk with him.”
Sebastian furrowed his brow, now concerned for Ms. Smithers well being. No one, but no one, got past her desk to him without an appointment. It was one of the things that had endeared her to him. So who could have breached her defenses?
“His name is Dagon—”
She turned to leave and did the most uncharacteristic thing he had ever seen her do. She patted her hair and adjusted her suit jacket before leaving his office.
Sebastian stood and walked around to the front of his desk. He always met an adversary head on.
Sebastian was impressed. He clearly understood what made Ms. Smithers react so oddly. The man was handsome enough to turn Medusa to stone. And he walked with an air of arrogant confidence that could part a crowd. He was every woman’s dream and every man’s nightmare.
“I thought it was time we met,” Dagon said, his hands remaining casually at his sides.
Sebastian remained with his arms crossed over his chest. The battle line had been drawn. “If you feel it necessary.”
“Very necessary,” Dagon emphasized. “Alisande is an old and dear friend.”
“Yes, she told me you two grew up together,” Sebastian said, letting him know that Ali had freely discussed Dagon with him.
“Friends since childhood.”
He nodded. “So I assumed. I suppose that is why
she felt safe using you to get to me.”
Dagon laughed, easing only slightly the tension between them. “Ali and I could never mate. She is much too impetuous, not to mention stubborn.”
Sebastian smiled. “Her tenaciousness, at times, can be appealing.”
She obviously loves you,” Dagon said, waiting for his response.
Sebastian relaxed his arms and braced himself against the desk. He extended his hand to a nearby chair, but Dagon declined his offer with a brief shake of his head.
“Are you here to ask me my intentions toward Ali?”
“I daresay you are already considering marriage, if I read the situation correctly.”
Sebastian had no intention of denying his feelings or intent. “If by that you mean that I love Ali and have given marriage consideration, then you’re correct.”
Dagon grew irritated. “Is that all you have considered?”
“If you think I should ask your permission, think again, pal. This isn’t the Dark Ages, and Ali is a grown woman capable of making her own choices.”
“That is debatable,” Dagon said frustrated.
Sebastian’s own annoyance grew. “Why exactly did you come here?”
“Simple,” he said. “I believe mortals belong with mortals and witches with witches.”
Sebastian threw his hands up in the air and shook his head. “Witches. I didn’t know so many existed.”
“There are many things you don’t know, mortal.” His tone bordered on confrontational.
Sebastian shot Dagon a warning look. “Then perhaps you should enlighten me.”
“That would probably take a hundred years or more.”
“You are treading dangerously close to me bodily throwing you out of here,” Sebastian warned, “unless of course you want to zap me with your magical powers.”
Dagon would have liked nothing better, but he had Ali to consider and the damn spell. “That would be a waste of my energy.”
“I thought so,” Sebastian said, not surprised that his suggestion was met with resistance.
Dagon kept tight rein on his temper, concentrating instead on his reason for being here. “You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.”
With an abrupt laugh Sebastian said, “I know that I have fallen in love with a crazy woman who has just as many crazy relatives and friends.”
Dagon carefully phrased his question, knowing full well the dangers of disrupting the spell. “You don’t believe in witches?”
“Come on, pal,” Sebastian said with a grin. “The Wiccan religion is one thing, but real honest-to-goodness witches? The kinds that fly float objects and such?” He shook his head. “No such thing.”
Dagon wanted to punch him in the face. Instead he had to rely on words as his weapons. “And I thought you were intelligent.”
“I am; that’s why I don’t believe in witches.”
“Then why remain with a woman who believes herself one?”
Sebastian answered with confidence. “Love does crazy things to a man, and besides, I’m sure I can eventually get her to see reason and stop this nonsense.”
“You stupid fool,” Dagon spat.
Sebastian straightened to his full height. “Watch it, pal. I don’t take kindly to being called names.”
Dagon threw his hands up in disgust and paced the floor in front of Sebastian. “What else do I call a man who does not understand the meaning of true love?”
“And you’re personally familiar with true love?”
Dagon really itched to punch him now.
Sebastian tempered his anger and switched to good, sound reasoning. “Look, it’s great that Ali has a friend who cares so much for her, but I think you know as well as I do that she herself would tell you to mind your own business. The final discussion will ultimately be hers and mine.”
Dagon let his anger abate. “I don’t want to see Ali hurt.”
Sebastian revised his opinion of the man. It was obvious he cared deeply for Ali as would a close brother. “I can ease your mind where that’s concerned. I would never hurt Ali. Never.”
“No, I don’t believe you honestly or knowingly would.”
Sebastian held out his hand. “I would like for us to be friends, since it’s obvious you care very much for Ali and she for you.”
Dagon didn’t hesitate to accept his offer of friendship. Any man who would put his differences aside for the woman he loved was a man strong in courage and integrity. He shook his hand firmly.
Sebastian again extended an invitation for him to sit and this time Dagon accepted. Sebastian buzzed Ms. Smithers and requested coffee.
He shook his head when she left, marveling over how flushed and flustered she became around Dagon.
“Do you often affect women that way?” he asked with a hint of humor.
Dagon released a dramatic sigh. “A burden I must deal with.”
Sebastian laughed and asked. “Was Ali a burden as a child?”
Dagon nodded, having just sipped his coffee. “She was impossible, a little stubborn hellion, who got herself into precarious situations almost on a daily basis.”
“But you got her out?”
“More times than I can remember.”
“You went to school together?” he asked, interested in discovering the truth about the woman he loved.
“Yes, and she drove our instructors crazy.”
“That I could easily understand.”
“It isn’t easy to understand Alisande,” Dagon corrected. “She’s complex in nature and her passion runs deep.”
“That I know.”
“She takes risks and chances she shouldn’t.”
Sebastian got the strangest and most overwhelming sensation that Dagon was attempting to tell him something... something important. “I’ll be there to help and protect her.”
“Can you protect her from yourself?” Dagon asked seriously.
“I told you I would never hurt her.”
“Not intentionally.”
“Not any way,” Sebastian insisted.
“Then tell me this. Will you accept her being a witch?”
Sebastian shook his head, certain he heard it rattling. “If thinking she’s a witch makes her happy, then that’s fine with me.”
Dagon stood and held out his hand. “I’m glad to hear that, just remember it when the time comes.”
What time he meant Sebastian didn’t know, but he would keep his warning in mind since Dagon was obviously serious about it. He shook Dagon’s hand and walked him to the door.
“I’m glad we met and had a chance to talk,” Dagon said.
“So am I, especially since our first introduction on the phone wasn’t to my liking.”
“She wasn’t naked,” Dagon said, sensing his need for confirmation, “though that damn string bikini she wore barely covered her.”
“That string bikini is history, except to my eyes,” he said with a laugh.
“If ever you need anything, Sebastian...” he said, leaving the rest unspoken, hoping he would understand.”
“I won’t hesitate to ask,” Sebastian finished.
“Good and I won’t hesitate to help.”
o0o
Sebastian sat at his desk clearing up the last few details of the day’s work. Ali was meeting him at his house for supper, though she was picking something up, not cooking. He had learned quickly enough that she was not talented in the kitchen but it did not disturb him. He enjoyed cooking and there was always takeout.
What did bother him was that he had not pushed the issue of her so-called magical powers since they had made love. If she was who she claimed to be, then her powers would be restored by now and she could pop right out of a room with the snap of her fingers, if he recalled her words correctly when they had first met.
It wasn’t so much that he was afraid she was actually a witch. He was concerned that when she attempted to demonstrate her special skill and failed, she would become upset. It was better that he
r powers lay dormant for a while, at least until their relationship was more secure and she could fully trust him enough to admit the truth. Until then he had no intentions of pushing the issue.
Ms. Smithers interrupted his thoughts when she announced over the intercom that Pierce Knowlin was there to see him.
Sebastian greeted him with a firm handshake. “Finished with your search?”
Pierce nodded, rubbing his shaved head, not a good sign. “I went in back doors, front doors, side doors, through trapdoors—you name a door, and I’ve been through it. I even created doors, and yet nobody answered. There is no information anywhere, no clue, no inkling as to who did such a thorough background search on you.”
“I don’t understand it,” Sebastian said. “The incident this person discussed with me was known by a few people and still it was found out.”
“I would suggest you look to the people who were there. That at least limits you to a few. Do you want to give me their names and I’ll see what I can come up with?”
How do you tell someone about a fairy? Sebastian shook his head. “I think I’ll work on the rest of it myself.”
“No problem. If I can do anything to help...” Pierce offered.
“What about hallucinogenic drugs?” Sebastian asked concerned with the answer he might get. “Find out anything about that?”
“Not a thing,” Pierce said. “If any of the Wyrrd businesses are involved with such a project, it’s tiptop secret. Though I must say that after researching them, it doesn’t strike me as a project they would be interested in. The family interests seem more philanthropy based.”
Sebastian nodded, accepting his findings. Pierce was an excellent agent. You didn’t get any better, and if he couldn’t find anything...
Then did any such thing exist?
“How about that dated paper? Have you gotten anywhere with it?” Sebastian asked, hoping for a small shred of possibility.
“Unfortunately no,” Pierce admitted. “We can pinpoint that an Alisande Wyrrd was born somewhere around 1632 or ‘52 but after that we can’t seem to trace her.”
“Nothing?” Sebastian asked, finding it difficult to believe that she just disappeared. “No death record, letters, marriage certificate, documents?”
The Wedding Spell Page 17
