Spells of the Heart

by Ellen Dugan

  “I—” Thomas closed his mouth shook his head and tried again. “Alright.” He walked over and sat. Duncan smiled over at me, and together we shared with him the contents of the box.

  “So I have a cousin, and she has a child,” Thomas said some time later, holding the birth certificate in a trembling hand. “This is amazing.”

  “How much do you remember about Phillip?” Duncan asked.

  Thomas leaned back against the sofa. “He was kind and soft spoken. Phillip was an English professor at the University, and a Master Mason. He and my father did not get along.”

  “That would be Silas?” I tried to clarify.

  “Yes, he was a hard man. After Phillip passed away, the inheritance fell to my father, Silas.” Thomas picked up the photo of a twenty-something Patricia, and the photo of Phillip and Irene. “My cousin resembles her father.”

  “I leaned over and studied the images for myself. “Yes, she does.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Duncan said quietly.

  Thomas sighed. “My father was obsessed with the male line of magickal succession within the family. Females were never good enough, in his opinion.”

  “Rebecca said as much, the night we recovered the Blood Moon Grimoire.” I cringed hearing my own words. “I’m sorry, Duncan.”

  “No, don’t apologize.” Duncan gave me a sad, lopsided smile. “My mother was obsessed with power. It took me a long time to work past what she did—to your family, to my father, and to me.”

  Thomas patted Duncan’s shoulder. “You’ve worked hard, and have made excellent progress with Dr. Basu.”

  Duncan sighed. “I wasn’t happy when you insisted I go to therapy.”

  My eyes grew wide at the exchange between the two men. Duncan had gone to therapy? I’d had no idea.

  Thomas rested his hand on Duncan’s arm. “After everything that happened, it was the wisest decision for you, Julian and myself.”

  “Wait,” I interrupted them, “are you telling me that you all did family counseling?”

  With care, Thomas replaced the photos and paperwork. “Yes we did. I felt it was for the best.”

  Duncan’s eyes locked onto mine. “It took me a few years worth of counseling to be able to admit that my mother, essentially, violated my will.”

  I’d never thought about it that way, I thought with a sudden clarity. The truth of it was she had abused Duncan emotionally. Stripping away his free will all in the pursuit of the ultimate magickal power.

  “My father Silas’ pursuit of arcane power drove him mad.” Thomas took a sip of brandy. “In the end, Rebecca was exactly like him. And her obsession for the grimoire is what ultimately killed her.”

  Duncan slid an arm around his uncle’s shoulders in silent support.

  Thomas appeared miserable as he sat there, and my heart ached seeing the two men so unhappy. Determined to lighten the mood, I gave Thomas’s knee a bolstering pat. “Come on you guys, don’t be so gloomy.” When they both blinked in surprise, I smiled. “I seem to recall a smooth and suave magician with salt and pepper hair strolling in, kicking ass, and saving the day.”

  Duncan started to laugh, and one side of Thomas’ mouth kicked up a tiny bit. “Smooth and suave?” Thomas asked, lifting his brows.

  “Don’t let that go to your head,” I suggested.

  Thomas almost laughed, but cleared his throat instead. “With your permission, I’d like to have copies made of everything.”

  I reached into the bag and pulled out a stack of papers. “I had all the paperwork and photos copied, I also scanned them into my computer at home.” I handed him a stack. “These copies are for you.”

  “Thank you.” Thomas accepted the papers “For now, may I suggest having the originals put into a—”

  “Safety deposit box,” I finished for him. “Yes. I’m going to take care of that first thing in the morning.” I cleared my throat. “Full disclosure? I haven’t told my family about this discovery. Not yet.”

  “I see,” Thomas said gravely.

  I shut the lid and closed the latch on the box before I raised my eyes to his. “I felt...” I paused and corrected myself. “Duncan and I felt we should come to you first, and then see what you could find.”

  Thomas inclined his head. “I’m honored you would trust me to do so.”

  “After all, Patricia is your family too,” I said.

  Thomas nodded in approval. “Excellent. I’ll contact my attorney and hire a private investigator and get the ball rolling. I’ll do whatever I can to find Patricia, and her child.”

  “Will you please keep me updated on any progress you make?” I asked politely, slipping the box back into the tote bag.

  “Of course I will,” Thomas said, flipping through the papers I’d made for him.

  Duncan stood and held out a hand to me. We said our goodbyes to Thomas, and Duncan escorted me out of the library. We’d gone about twenty feet down the nearest hall before he pulled me in his arms and kissed me.

  “You were wonderful back there,” he said, and laid another smoldering kiss on me.

  When he finally allowed me up for air, I spoke. “I wanted to tell you something.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’m proud of you Duncan, and all of the work you’ve done.” I leaned my head against his shoulder.

  He held me for a few moments, and I could feel the impact my words had on him by the fine tremors in his arms. “Come with me,” Duncan said softly, and tugged me along after him.

  I followed him down one hall, up a massive wooden staircase, and down another winding hallway. “Where are we going?” I whispered.

  Duncan pulled open a door, beckoned me inside, and I followed him in. I’d barely cleared the door before he locked it behind me.

  He clicked on a nearby lamp and I saw a gorgeous room. The walls were painted a muted, warm green, and the bed was made up in a white textured spread with an emerald green plush throw arranged over the foot. Pillows in tones of gray and green were arranged across the wooden headboard. The vibrations announced it to be Duncan’s room.

  “This is a great space,” I said appreciatively. I set the tote bag down and wandered the room. I ran my fingers over a sleek modern nightstand, and noticed that the dresser and headboard were both made from the same pale blonde wood.

  Black and white architectural photography was arranged on the walls, and as I took in the room, Duncan walked over and clicked on small lamp that rested on the nightstand. “Do you recognize the photographs?” he asked.

  I walked over to the nearest one. “Maybe, this sort of reminds me of the architecture around town, but I can’t identify the buildings.”

  Duncan walked over, put his arms around from behind me, and rested his chin on my shoulder. “No,” he breathed in my ear. “Do you recognize the photographer?”

  I leaned a bit closer and tried to make out the tiny signature at the bottom of the photo. “These are Ivy’s?” I was shocked. “Where did you get them?”

  “I bought them when the photography class put on an exhibit last year. I fell for the photos before I recognized that they were hers.”

  “She never told me,” I said.

  “She doesn’t know.”

  “They look good in here,” I said.

  “So do you.” Duncan began to nibble on the nape of my neck.

  “I’m on to you buddy,” I said jokingly as he reached around to my slacks and unzipped them. “You lured me back to your room to see your etchings, so you could try and get in my pants.”

  Duncan pushed my slacks down, and reached for my panties. “I’m already in your pants,” he growled in my ear and I shivered. He flexed his fingers and my head fell back against his chest.

  “You might...” I gasped, “want to let me take my boots off first.”

  Duncan moved around to stand in front of me. He bent down and carefully pulled my pant legs over my dress boots. I rested my hand on his back while I lifted one foot and then the other. He took the slacks, shook the
m out and draped them over a nearby upholstered chair. My heart started to race as he methodically slid my jacket off, folded it and laid it on top my slacks. The purple top went next until I stood before him in my purple bra, black underwear and boots.

  Duncan took my hand and led me to his bed. His mood was different. The playful and fun lover I’d known years ago, and the spontaneous and passionate lover I’d recently rediscovered, had stepped aside. The blue-eyed man who focused on me now, had my mouth going dry.

  He nudged me back on his bed, and my back hit the plush throw. I lay back and watched him as he stepped out of his shoes, stripped his clothes off, and he never said a word. He leaned over me, reached out and hooked a finger under my black lace underwear, and began to slowly ease them down.

  “My boots,” I managed to say.

  “Leave them.” His voice was low and husky and made my insides start to quiver. He took my glasses off my nose and set them on the night stand. Duncan turned to me, looped his hands under my knees and tugged me forward. I slid easily against the plush throw. He stepped between my thighs and stared down at me for a long moment.

  “Duncan,” I said, wondering what he was waiting for.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered.

  Fascinated by the different mood and his intensity, I did. I’d barely hooked my ankles when he grabbed my hips and slid forward. I hissed at the penetration, and watched as he threw his head back. The nightstand light flickered. With a low growl, Duncan pulled me closer, and began to thrust.

  I bit back a scream and that seemed to spurn him on. Duncan rolled his hips, and every clear thought I had went right out of my mind. I surrendered my control and our magick melded and combined, becoming one.

  He took me again and again. In positions we’d never tried before and with an intensity and sensual skill that I was unprepared for. There were no words spoken between us, however I had little doubt as to his passion for me. Afterwards I found myself sprawled naked, face down on his bed. I shook my head to clear it and pushed up to my elbows.

  Everything we’d done over the past few hours played back in my mind and I grinned. I rolled over and found that my lover was sound asleep on his back, with his arm flung out to his side.

  I squinted in the soft light and eased off the bed. I made my way to the nightstand, found my glasses and slipped them on. The old fashioned wind up clock on his nightstand read 2:00am. While Duncan slept away, I scooped up my clothes, found my boots where Duncan had thrown them at some point, and made my way into his en-suite bathroom.

  I closed the door behind me and cleaned up a little, got redressed, picked up my boots and eased back out the door. I smirked when I saw that Duncan was still sound asleep, and apparently oblivious to my movements around the bedroom.

  I decided to let him sleep. After all, I thought, he’d certainly earned it. I really wanted to climb back in that bed and do it all over again...But I needed to get home. I had to go to work in a few hours. Inspired, I pulled a lipstick out of my bag, snuck into his bathroom and left him a sassy little message on the mirror.

  I wrote, Woof! Added XOXO under it and drew a heart around it all. I almost wished I could be there to see his reaction.

  Feeling proud of myself, I tiptoed my way across the room, picked up the tote bag and eased out into the hall. I reversed the route we had taken to get to his room and I managed to navigate my way back out.

  I congratulated myself on my success when I silently shut the teal door behind me. I took a few steps forward on the brick pavers and I clapped a hand over my mouth and squelched down a case of nervous giggles.

  An owl called from somewhere on the estate and I quickly crossed the courtyard in my bare feet. A bright waning moon ensured that I didn’t trip over anything as I moved through the courtyard. I placed my things on the passenger seat, slipped in and started up the car. I backed up and headed for home.

  I drove up the hill towards my house, enjoying the starlight and quiet streets. When I pulled in my own driveway, I saw Luna sitting in the living room front window as if she was waiting for me.

  My front porch light was burning and I headed up the front steps as Luna scrambled out of the window. Once I let myself inside, I found Luna sitting on the maple interior steps. She let out a loud meow as I shut the door behind me.

  I flipped the lock and the cat pounced on my feet and gave my toes a good nip. “Ouch!” I jumped back. “Okay, okay. What? Are you starving or something?”

  Luna flipped her tail high and sauntered towards the kitchen. Properly chastised, I dropped my boots and the bag on the sectional and walked into the kitchen that was softly lit by the under the counter lighting. I expected to find the cat’s food bowl empty, but it was mostly full, as was her water dish.

  I glared from the bowls to the cat. “You’ve got food,” I said to Luna. “What was that all about?”

  “Maybe she doesn’t approve of you being out so late,” a female voice said from behind me.

  I jumped, spun towards the sound and came face to face with the ghost of Irene Bishop. I couldn’t help but squeak a little when I found her leaning against my staircase with her arms folded across her chest.

  “Irene!” I slapped a hand to my chest. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here,” she reminded me.

  I blew out a breath. “Well yes, I’m very aware that you live here. You’re not exactly subtle. I meant, what are you doing here...because you’re looking very corporeal. And damn it woman, you scared me!”

  “I’m sorry if I frightened you,” Irene said, but the grin on her face made the words less than sincere. Luna scampered across the room and sat next to the ghost, as if she were siding with Irene.

  I moved closer to the ghost, wanting to take in the details of her appearance. Irene’s dark hair was streaked with silver, and her eyes were a deep blue. Her dress was simple and reminded me of the first time I’d gotten a glimpse of her. “We found your box and the papers,” I said. “Duncan and I took the information to Thomas Drake, he’s going to track down Patricia and her child.”

  “Thank you. I’ve waited a long time to bring them home.” She smiled fully, and I appreciated for the first time how gorgeous the older woman had been.

  “Why didn’t you raise your own child?” I asked quickly before she disappeared. From my experiences with other family ghosts, I knew she wouldn’t be here long. “I saw the photos. You were a part of Patricia’s life, so why didn’t you raise her here in William’s Ford?”

  “It wasn’t safe,” Irene said. Her image wavered and began to fade. As if in sympathy, the cat let out a sad little meow.

  “Why?” I asked, but there was no answer. She was gone.

  I raced for my bag, hit the notes app and spoke into my phone, noting the date and time. I repeated everything I could remember about what Irene had said, checked what I had down, and added any other detail that I could recall.

  I re-read my notes and began to yawn. Fatigue hit me like a truck, and I staggered towards the staircase and made my way to my bedroom. I tossed my jacket on the bench at the foot of my bed, stripped out of my pants and climbed into bed still wearing my purple silky shirt. I placed my phone on the night stand, set my alarm, and tucked my glasses in their case. With a sigh, I pulled the covers up to my chin and was out in seconds.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I trudged down to the kitchen in the morning wearing my plush robe, with every muscle aching. The sexual Olympics that Duncan and I’d indulged in had left me limping. I took a few acetaminophen, and stared blindly out the kitchen window.

  “Jeez,” I tried to stretch and winced instead. I typically woke early and cheerful, and anticipating a brisk jog...but today I’d overslept, and the muscles in my legs were screaming. Giving up the idea of a run, I stalked to the new shower and flung myself in.

  I stepped out of the stall and reached for a towel, only to realize that all my downstairs towels had been taken to the manor after the fire to be
washed. With no other choice, I wrung my hair out as best I could, wrapped myself in my robe and dripped all the way up the stairs.

  I got ready for work as quickly as possible, I fixed my face and dried and styled my hair to hang loose around my shoulders. I pulled on a simple, black, knee length dress and tossed a long denim jacket over it. The labradorite pendant Duncan had given me lay shimmering softly against the bodice of the dress. I found my black suede over-the-knee boots. I sat on my bed and zipped them up. The boots had a low, flat heel and were comfortable, plus I was less likely to trip in them.

  I fed the cat and was pulling out of the driveway almost on time. Then I remembered Irene’s papers and had to stop, pull back in, and run back in the house to retrieve them. I drove to the bank, and it took forever to get a safe deposit box. I was a half hour late to work when all was said and done. I’d finally made it to my desk when my phone chimed, alerting me of an incoming text.

  I tapped the screen and saw it was from Duncan.

  Why didn’t you wake me?

  I rolled my eyes and answered with the truth: Because you were sound asleep.

  I can’t believe you snuck out. Where are you now?

  At work. I resisted the urge to add: Duh.

  A few moments went by with no more responses from him, and I started to worry. Was he mad? I was alone in the office so I decided to check in on him using remote viewing. I concentrated on him, and by tapping into my clairvoyance I determined that he was still lying in his bed, with the sheets tangled around his waist. He appeared pissed off and he was scowling at his phone. I allowed myself to slide away from where he was—and focused on coming back to the here and now.

  I felt a little thump when I returned, like I’d just landed in my chair. I opened my eyes and considered my phone.

  I shot off a quick text: Quit lazing around in bed and being grumpy! By the way...you may want to check your bathroom mirror.

  Satisfied that I’d taken care of the situation, I flipped my phone over to silent, tucked it in my purse and got to work.

  My day was long and filled with one annoyance after another. The printer jammed and I’d managed to fix that myself. Dr. Meyer had lost a file for an upcoming exhibit, and I’d spent an hour tracking it down. I’d eventually resorted to using a locator spell and found all the paperwork in a folder where it had fallen behind the file cabinet. Dr. Meyer didn’t trust computers. He preferred physical paperwork to keep track of the items on display. Which is why he was always misplacing his files and papers.