“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.
“No,” she refused. “That would make me feel awful.” She turned toward him, forgetting she was exposed. “What time will you get home?”
“Around five.” He took her mug and floated it to the table. Then he wrapped his hands around her waist, lifting her into a warm hug. “I’ll miss you while I’m gone.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” she whispered, burying her face in his neck.
He held her for several seconds, stroking and nuzzling her hair. Then he replaced their shirts and lowered her feet to the floor. “Is there anything I can get you before I go?”
“I’ll fend for myself. Thanks for the coffee.”
“My pleasure. Call Morrigan when you’re ready. I’m sure she and Daleen are impatiently waiting. I’ll see you this evening?”
Layla thought about telling him he didn’t have to come over if he had other things to do, but she selfishly nixed the idea. “Yes, please.”
He leaned in for a kiss then straightened. “Bye, Layla Love.”
Her heart rate quickened, and she wasn’t sure if the increase stemmed from the pleasure she got from him saying her name, the sensations he delivered with his kisses, or the dread she felt over him leaving.
She stood on her toes and took the back of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. “Bye, Quinlan Farrel,” she mumbled into him. Then she quickly let go. If she didn’t do it fast, she might not do it at all. “Have a good day.”
“You, too,” he returned, smiling as he ran a thumb over her pout. Then he dropped his hand and left the room.
Layla stood still, listening to the front door close as unease washed over her, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. “Good,” she approved, grabbing her coffee. It would not do to sit around and fret all day, just waiting for him to return.
She walked to the living room and found her phone. No missed calls, and it was only nine in Oklahoma, so she decided to wait to call Travis.
Instead, she dialed Gerald Greene’s number. His secretary answered and transferred the call, and Layla listened to hold music as she checked out the spare bathroom. Though it wasn’t as fancy as the master bathroom, it was nice and roomy with a shower and tub.
“Layla?” Gerald answered, sounding pleased.
“Hey,” she returned.
“How are you, dear? Settling in up there?”
“A little. Still adjusting.”
“Well sure. It was a big move.”
“Bigger than big,” she confirmed. “I’m calling because my old house burned down.”
“You heard about that, huh? I tried to call yesterday, but I couldn’t get through, and I didn’t want to leave the news on your voicemail.”
“That’s fine. A friend told me. So what’s next? Do we need to file an insurance claim?”
“Yes. I’ve already gone over your policy and everything looks in order, but you’ll need to sign the paperwork before we can finalize the claim.”
“Okay. I don’t have an address yet, but as soon as I get one, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, dear. Or we could fax it. Whatever works for you.” There was a moment of silence. Then he spoke again. “There’s something else I need to speak with you about.”
“Sure,” she agreed, smelling a bouquet of roses on the vanity.
“A man came to my office yesterday asking questions about you,” Gerald went on.
“Oh yeah?” she asked. “Who?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me his name.”
“What did he look like?”
“Very strange. Older man, around forty or so, and as intimidating as all get out. He was at least a foot taller than me and built like a bull, and he had long red hair and yellow eyes, like a cat’s. Does that sound like someone you know?”
Layla’s stomach knotted. The description of the visitor reminded her of the small glimpse she’d gotten of the magical world. Witches and wizards tended to have unusual looks, and long red hair and yellow eyes definitely fit the bill. “No. I don’t know anyone like that. What did he want?”
“He wanted to know where you’d moved; claims he has important business with you.”
“Did you tell him?”
“Absolutely not, dear. He wasn’t too happy about it either, looked like he wanted to throw a punch. But he just turned around and walked away, didn’t even press the issue.”
“Hmm . . .” she mumbled, leaning against the counter.
“I hate to ask this,” Gerald continued, “but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t. Are you hiding from some kind of debt, or running away from illegal dealings of some sort? Something that would have powerful people looking for you? Because I’m telling you, Layla, this guy could have been a hit man for the mob. You just don’t see people like him around here.”
“No,” she answered. “I’m not running from anything.”
“If you’re in trouble, Layla, I can help.”
“I swear, Gerald. I don’t owe anybody any money, and I’ve never been involved in anything illegal. I have no idea who that guy is or why he’s looking for me.” She paused, realizing Gerald’s safety could be at risk. “He sounds dangerous, though. You should alert the police, have them put a patrol car in the parking lot.” Not that the police could do a damn thing if there was a magician looking for her, but the wizard might think twice about harming Gerald if lawful eyes were on him.
“I’ll consider that,” Gerald replied, “but I’m more worried about you. There are other ways of locating you, easier ways. Maybe you should alert the Portland police.”
“Maybe.” She’d be alerting someone all right, but it wouldn’t be the police. “Will you call me if he comes back?”
“Of course. And you let me know when you get an address.”
“Right. Thanks.”
“No problem, Layla. Take care now.”
“I will. Bye.”
Layla hung up and stared at the phone. She’d lived in Gander Creek for eighteen years without anything odd happening. Now places were burning and strange people were asking questions concerning her whereabouts.
“Hmm . . .” She definitely needed to let her grandparents know, but first she wanted to check out the rest of the house, so she left the bathroom and headed further down the hall.
Only one door remained before the stairs – on the same side of the hall as the master bedroom. Layla reached for the shiny, silver knob and pushed, expecting a closet or a spare bedroom. What she didn’t expect was a vacant chamber with white walls, bare wooden floors, and no furniture, not even a curtain. Odd considering the other rooms were very detailed in their décor. At first Layla couldn’t imagine why her parents hadn’t put themselves into this room as well. Then it slapped her across the face – the room was meant to be a nursery. She stumbled backward and quickly closed the door, deciding she wouldn’t be returning to that room anytime soon.
Shaking the sorrow away, she climbed the stairs to the second level, finding three doors to choose from – one immediately to her right, which she assumed led to the turret room; and two down the hall, directly across from each other. Wanting to save the turret room for last, she headed for the others.
The door on the left was another bathroom, much like the guest bath downstairs, and the door on the right opened to a guestroom with a cottage motif. The colors were much softer than the blue and green palette splashing the master bedroom, and the frames on these walls held landscapes instead of erotic art, but the two rooms were similar in size, and both boasted large furniture and a sitting area by the window.
After taking in the details, Layla closed the door and headed for the turret room, climbing a narrow flight of spiral stairs to the highest point in the house. As she rounded the last turn and entered the circular chamber, rainbows dazzled her eyes, flashing through various gemstones that hung from the domed ceiling by fine silver thread.
The bright, airy room was much bigger than she thought it wou
ld be, and far more beautiful than she imagined. Two tall windows faced the east and west, and the ceiling had a skylight, illuminating the room for as long as the sun kissed the sky. Composed of pale planks of weathered wood, the floor had a white area rug spread beneath a curved white sofa and a round driftwood table, which held a vase of blue and green roses. Near the western window sat an easel and painting supplies, while the eastern window poured light on an acoustic guitar and a wooden stool.
Layla’s eyes had adjusted to the light, so she set her phone and coffee aside and moved to the eastern window, getting her first sunlit view of the coven’s lawn. The green grass and pristine houses sparkled with dew, and the gardens stretched for the rising sun.
“Wow,” she breathed, taking a moment to memorize the magical landscape.
Once she could close her eyes and still see the view, she moved to the western window, where she found another breathtaking vista – clusters of trees so tall and packed together so tightly, she couldn’t see ten feet into them or an inch of sky above them. Peaceful yet powerful, the vast stretch of nature gave her a tingly feeling in her tummy.
She walked to the guitar and pulled it from its carved, wooden stand. She loved the acoustic guitar as much as she loved the piano. Had she not been swamped with extracurricular activities growing up, she would have learned to play. As she ran a hand down the guitar’s polished neck, she wondered if it had belonged to her mom or her dad. Neither of them had played in the memories, but both had been musically inclined.
Taking a seat on the stool, she propped the guitar on her lap, deciding by its size that it must have been her dad’s. She strummed, pressed a few strings then strummed again. Maybe she’d learn to play after all. What else did she have to do?
“Magic,” she exclaimed, popping her head up. That’s what she’d do.
Chapter Thirteen
Veins pulsing with adrenaline, Layla found the house phone in the living room then dialed the number boldly written across a nearby notepad.
Half a ring later, Morrigan answered. “Hello?”
Layla beamed, already familiar with her grandma’s dulcet voice. “Hi.”
“Layla, sweetie. How are you this morning?”
“Good. What are you doing?”
“Daleen and I are having coffee, waiting to hear from you.”
“Would you like to come over?”
“We would love to come over. Do you need us to bring anything?”
“Um . . . I haven’t had breakfast, and I don’t know what’s here.”
“Not much. I wanted your input before stocking the fridge. What would you like for breakfast?”
“An apple and toast is fine.”
“Apple and toast,” Morrigan repeated. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Yes, actually. The bag I brought with me is running low on clothes.”
“Do the clothes in the closet not fit?”
“Well, I haven’t tried anything on yet, but that’s not really the problem.”
“Tell me the problem, sweetie, and I’ll fix it.”
“Well . . .” Layla mumbled, cheeks growing warm. “I couldn’t find any underclothes.”
“Oh,” Morrigan replied, quietly laughing. “I’m sorry. I should have considered that.”
“That’s okay. I have some in my car, but I don’t know how to get to them.”
“Steer clear of the bedroom. I’ll send your things over before heading that way.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Layla hung up and rushed to the bedroom closet, grabbing one of the few outfits that included pants instead of a skirt. The top was long-sleeved and embroidered with emerald green roses, and the bottoms were skinny, white slacks.
Since her stuff would be appearing in the bedroom soon, she decided to use the guest bathroom to shower and dress. Being crushed by her luggage would make for a funny anecdote, but it wasn’t worth the humiliation.
Even though she washed and rinsed quickly, the doorbell rang as she was getting dressed, so she ran down the hall while yanking the shirt over her head. When she opened the door, her grandmothers’ delighted auras filled the entryway.
“That shirt looks lovely on you,” Morrigan praised, pulling her into a hug. “I’m glad it fits. Making your wardrobe was a guessing game.”
Layla’s eyebrows shot up. “You made those clothes?”
“Sure,” Morrigan confirmed, stepping aside for Daleen, who anxiously pulled Layla into a hug.
“Good morning, my darling,” she sighed. “It’s wonderful to see your smile.”
“You, too,” Layla returned, closing the door. “Looks like rain.”
Morrigan laughed. “It always looks like rain around here, even if it’s dry.”
“I like the rain,” Layla noted, joining them in the living room.
“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Morrigan assured.
Layla smiled as she motioned toward the kitchen. “I’d offer you coffee, but I don’t have any made. Quin spoiled me with a cup of Cinnia’s this morning.”
“How sweet of him,” Morrigan replied, glancing down the hall. “Did you get your luggage?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been back in there. Do you want coffee? I can make some.”
“Only if you want some,” Daleen answered. “We’re all coffeed out at the moment.”
“Coffeed out?” Layla countered. “Is there such a thing?”
Daleen laughed and took Layla’s hand. “I take it you really like coffee?”
“I’m an addict. It’s pretty bad.”
Morrigan smiled as she headed for the kitchen. “Then I’ll make you some while you eat breakfast.”
“Okay,” Layla agreed, pulling Daleen along.
While Morrigan made coffee, Daleen summoned a sliced and peeled apple and a piece of buttered toast.
“Thank you,” Layla murmured, digging in.
A moment of silence passed while she ate her toast. Then Morrigan spoke as she sat down with a fresh cup of coffee. “What would you like to do today?”
“I was hoping you’d help me practice magic,” Layla answered.
“That sounds fun,” Daleen approved. “You have so much to learn. It will be wonderful watching you discover your abilities.”
“Yes,” Morrigan agreed. “I’m very excited about it. Is there something in particular you’d like to start with?”
“The important stuff,” Layla answered. “I need to figure out flying, and I need to learn the concealment spell. Oh, and I’d love to get better at elemental magic. I want to know which one’s my best one.”
Daleen smiled as she played with a long curl. “We’ll help with whatever you need, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. You have plenty of time to learn.”
“I know,” Layla mumbled, taking another bite, “but it’s not like I have a job or anything. Might as well learn what I’m capable of. Plus, I’m really excited about it.”
“We can tell,” Morrigan observed.
“Is there a way to make flying safe?” Layla asked, grabbing her last slice of apple.
“We’ll keep you safe,” Daleen assured.
“Okay,” Layla agreed, confident in the claim. “Is there somewhere we can practice that won’t have people around? I don’t want to make a fool of myself around anyone but you two.”
“Sure,” Morrigan answered, vanishing the bread crumbs from Layla’s plate. “We have a clearing we use for rituals and whatnot. Are you ready now?”
Layla took several gulps of coffee then stood. “Yes. No . . .” She blushed as she glanced over her shoulder. “I need to go find my underwear.”
“We’ll wait,” they replied, and Layla rushed from the kitchen.
A pile of bags and suitcases sat outside her closet door, and she visually searched it, pinpointing the bag that held the bulk of her underclothes. It seemed to take forever to put on a pair of panties, and she was sti
ll fastening her pants when she returned to the kitchen.
“Ready,” she announced.
“Then let’s not delay,” Morrigan said, heading for a door in the south-west corner of the kitchen.
Layla followed her outside, gasping as she stepped onto a large, wooden deck. Mouth hanging open, she flipped her gaze left and right, finding dozens of full flower boxes, and six comfy lounge chairs, which formed a half-circle around an empty fire pit. Beyond the fire pit, a miniature dock stretched over a sparkling pond big enough to swim in. Fed by a small, three-tiered waterfall, the bright body of water was surrounded by smooth slabs of granite and artistic beds of greenery.
Layla moved to the edge of the dock and peered into the water’s depths, gasping at the colorful fish swimming beneath huge, floating lily pads. And as if it wasn’t already the most beautiful pond she’d ever seen, shiny blue and green gems coated the bottom, capturing the sun and casting prisms.
Morrigan joined her on the dock and laid a hand on her shoulder. “What do you think?”
“It’s perfect,” Layla whispered.
Morrigan beamed and motioned toward the chairs. “Do you want to sit for a while?”
“Tempting,” Layla answered, “but my heart’s set on magic.”
She glanced at her bare feet then looked at her grandmothers’ feet, which were also bare. Must be a magician thing, she decided, sitting on a chair so she could toughen her soles and lightened her step – a spell Quin had taught her at his aunt Karena’s inn.
“All set,” she said, getting to her armored feet.
While traversing dark woods brimming with wild undergrowth, Layla listened to her grandmothers explain the theory of concealment, so she had a decent grasp on the idea by the time they stepped into a round clearing half the size of the coven’s lawn. Flawlessly manicured and completely empty, the glade was ideal for making a fool of one’s self.
“Excellent,” Layla approved.
The lesson proceeded better than she’d hoped, and after a few hours of testing her magic, she was bursting with post-power euphoria and confidence. It only took her three tries to thoroughly conceal her body. And following several stubborn attempts, she managed to somewhat lighten her aura – a task her grandmothers claimed was extremely difficult.
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