by Karen Ranney
He tucked that information away to think about later. And practice.
“What else can you show me today?”
“A great deal. Are you certain you still want to learn?”
“More than ever,” he said, meaning every word.
He resented being naive, but he was damned if he was going to be ignorant from this point forward. If he was a wizard, then he was going to be the best damn wizard in the universe.
Magic was intent. You had to know exactly what you wanted to accomplish before you started a spell. There weren’t any half measures or any sloppiness, either. Every word you spoke had to be perfect as you performed a spell. Otherwise, there was no telling what you’d produce.
Words meant things to him. His life was made up of words. That’s how he earned his living. Consequently, when he wrote a column he was adept at saying exactly what he meant to say the first time. There weren’t any extraneous words, punctuation, or filler. Now he was being asked to do the same thing with his incantations.
He learned how to formulate a spell. The four things that were mandatory: intent, direction, power, and outcome. He’d also memorized about forty Latin words to use to construct a spell.
He’d trimmed a bush as he sat with Grace on the wooden bench in her garden. He’d trimmed it into the shape of a dog, all without using his hands. He’d recreated a memory of his mother baking cookies and could smell them even though he knew they weren’t real. He’d produced a rabbit from a thought, but Grace had frowned at him and sent the rabbit back to where it had been.
“They nibble on the flowers,” she said in explanation.
He’d caused the fountain to change the pattern of the water, exploding it in the air at least twelve feet. Grace started laughing as she got up from the bench and headed toward a drier place.
“That’s what I mean by outcome, Derek. You have to see ahead. What do you want to create with a spell?” She looked down at her clothing. “In this case, an outdoor shower.”
They’d gone inside again where she furnished him a towel and something to eat. She made outstanding enchiladas. He’d be back, if for no other reason than the food.
They talked during lunch, Grace sharing memories of Breanna. He ate as he listened, wishing that his wife had told him about her friendship with Grace. Maybe it would’ve affected what had happened to her.
He told her what the police had said about the driver feeling as if he’d been drugged.
She nodded, almost as if she expected that information.
“That would have been the easiest way to do it, of course. Instead of using someone in NASACA. Poor man, he doesn’t deserve the guilt he feels. He could have died as well and they wouldn’t have thought twice about it.”
“Were they behind the car bomb, Grace?”
With her fork she stabbed at the lone enchilada on her plate. “I don’t know. I’m unable to sense a fingerprint, a signature of the person who left the bomb. I don’t know who it was, but it had to be someone local. But it’s not beyond the possibility for someone in the European Meriduar to have done it, either.”
She glanced at him and then away. “Most spells cannot travel over long distances of the water. The Atlantic Ocean, in this case.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Water and magic don’t mix.”
“Yet you use water for scrying.”
She nodded. “In my case it’s a reflection, almost like a mirror. But large bodies of water seem to absorb magic. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It keeps the various Meriduar factions separated. The European Meriduar can’t cast a spell on us and vice versa.”
“But Jeffrey can?”
She nodded. “He has enough power to do it.” She hesitated, then completed her thought. “If he’s still alive. I’m not entirely certain he is.”
He didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Is that something new?”
She nodded. “I tried to contact him, but he wouldn’t appear.”
“Does that change everything?”
She seemed to consider the question for a moment. “No, if anything it makes the situation more dangerous. It means that there’s one less wizard, which means that you’re even more important. And teaching you becomes even more vital.”
She glanced at him, “But I might be wrong. He might just be avoiding me.”
“What if I don’t want all the power I’m supposed to have?”
“You can’t abdicate. You can’t resign. It’s part of you, like your blood, your organs, and your brain. Every bit of you is an amalgam of your father and me and, like it or not, that combination has granted you great abilities.”
“Did you want me?” It was a question he’d never thought to ask his mother. “When you found out you were pregnant why didn’t you…”
She held up her hand palm toward him. “Don’t even finish that question, Derek. I believe in life. Of course I wanted you. Did I plan for you? No. If I had to do it over again would I change anything? No, because that would mean you wouldn’t be here.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
He wondered if many people made the mistake of underestimating Grace. To some she might appear as a middle-aged woman gracefully aging. Beneath that southern belle exterior, however, was a lioness. He had the scratches to prove it.
“Wizards are very careful about having children. It’s not politics as much as safety. If you’re imbued with all these abilities no one can get close to you. Unless, of course, you have a tiny bit of vulnerability, like Achilles. A child or loved one. If they’re taken or threatened, a wizard’s power can be manipulated.”
He studied her for a few moment, wondering if she realized what she just revealed.
“You fell in love with him, but he didn’t feel the same for you.”
Her smile suddenly had an edge to it.
“I believed that he loved me. I still believe that. However, it would have been unwise for him to make a public demonstration of what he felt. It would’ve put both of us in danger.”
“Yet he was married.”
She nodded. “To a very powerful witch who died years before she should have. I can’t help but wonder why.”
“So, you were left with having a child.”
“That he knew nothing about. I never told him about you.”
“Were you worried that he would make you get rid of me?”
She didn’t answer him for a moment. “I never saw him again, so he didn’t get the chance.”
She had put herself between him and a father who might have wanted to destroy him. For the first time he realized the sacrifice she’d made.
“Is that why you quit being an Elder?”
Her smile held more humor now. “I deemed it politically prudent. That way the Elders wouldn’t be put into the position of having to choose me or NASACA.”
“You were afraid they wouldn’t choose to protect you.”
Her look was direct. “You’re learning fast, Derek.”
“So you think the Elders killed Breanna.”
She didn’t look away. “Yes.”
“Why? If it was because she might tell me who I am, aren’t you in the same danger?”
“I’m sure they figured out that you would know sooner or later. I think it’s because she was an unknown entity. She had great power from her father and they didn’t trust her. They didn’t know how far she’d go to protect you.”
Grace always left him with things to think about. Today wasn’t any different.
He had started the day with some reservations, but by the time Derek poured himself into his car he was beginning to believe that Grace could probably turn someone into a frog. Or at least make them want to be one.
In the hours he’d been with her he’d learned a great deal, but the biggest two lessons were uppermost in his mind: he didn’t know a hell of a lot and what he did know he wasn’t good at yet.
25
Ellie felt remarkably well, despite having been shot.
She attributed that to two things: the excellent medical care and the fact that the Elders, all seven of them, had visited her when she was still in recovery. She didn’t know what kind of spell they’d used, but it was powerful enough that she’d rarely had to ask for any pain medication.
Grace Colson had also come to the hospital and talked to her parents. Now that was truly a surprise. She’d never met Grace, even though she’d heard stories of the woman all her life. Maybe she was wrong and her advanced healing wasn’t due to the Elders but to Grace’s efforts.
“Did the Elders say they were coming back?” she asked her mother.
Lily was straightening the sheets on the bed for about the fifth time this morning. In a minute she would move to the head of the bed, remove the pillow beneath Ellie’s head, and plump it up before putting it back.
Her mother had already gone down to the gift shop and cafeteria this morning, returning with magazines, a book that she thought Ellie would like to read, and various sugar-free candies. She didn’t tell her mother about the gastrointestinal effect those candies gave her. Instead, she smiled, thanked her mother and kissed her.
Her father had gone to work, but only after she reassured him that she was fine. Really. There was nothing he could do by remaining at her side. Her father was more of a pain than her mother could ever be. He paced. He pontificated. He fussed.
“Oh no, dear, they didn’t.” Twin lines appeared between her mother’s eyes. “Did you expect them to? That was a very great honor they gave you, calling on you like that.”
“No, not really. I was just wondering. Did they say anything to you or Dad?”
“They were very reassuring, all of them. They said that you should heal quickly and that every one of them wished for the very best.”
“Nothing more than that?”
“What would you expect them to say?”
She only shook her head which seemed to mollify her mother.
Lunch was coming soon. If this meal was anything like breakfast Lily would take one look at it and shake her head, then go to the cafeteria for something more substantial. At least that would give Ellie a few minutes of freedom.
She loved her mother, but it was no secret that Lily was a helicopter parent. Even though Ellie had hit thirty, her mother treated her like she was twelve. Being in a hospital bed meant that she was a captive audience.
The sooner she was released, the better. Yet she knew that there would be a battle brewing about that, too. Despite the fact that she could care for herself she knew her mother was either going to insist that she come back to the parental home for a few days or she was going to make herself Ellie’s roommate.
Being a witch meant that she could do a great many things, but she wouldn’t use magic on her own parents. Nor could she heal herself instantly. Magic didn’t make you invulnerable. You could still be killed, like anyone else.
That thought kept her awake on more than one night.
Derek went back to Grace’s house every day for a week, learning more and then augmenting her teachings with practice in the evening. For seven days he didn’t return to the secret room. He hadn’t told Grace about it. Nor had he mentioned Lionel’s book.
Before going to Grace’s one morning he went to the hospital to visit Ellie. He stopped at the florist first, then realized that he should have had the flowers delivered. He felt self-conscious walking through the crowded lobby and in the elevator with a gigantic vase of sunflowers.
Ellie was sitting up in bed talking to her mother. The left side of her chest was bandaged and her arm was in a sling. He hesitated at the doorway, an emotion flooding him that he couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t shame. Nor was it embarrassment. However, it had components of both.
She looked over and saw him, her pale face giving way to twin spots of color.
“Derek. Hello. Are those for me?” she asked, looking at the flowers.
He entered the room holding the bouquet out like an idiot. Lily took pity on him and got up from where she was sitting and took the flowers to the sink, ran a glass full of water and then put the bouquet on the hospital table over Ellie’s bed.
Ellie used her right hand to touch the center of the sunflowers. “You remembered my favorite flowers.”
“Well…” His words ground to a halt. Not that he knew what to say, especially in front of Allie’s mother.
“This is Derek, Mom. He and I work together.”
Lily looked at him, then at her daughter, and back to him.
“I’ll just go down to the cafeteria and get some coffee,” she said. “It was nice meeting you, Derek.”
As she passed him, she reached out and patted him on the arm just like Grace had a habit of doing. Was it a motherly thing?
He sat in the chair beside the bed, looking at the flowers. He should have at least rehearsed what he was going to say. He felt sixteen again.
“Really, you didn’t need to bring me flowers.”
“I can take them back if you want.”
She smiled at him. “Of course I don’t want you taking them back. I love them.”
“I figured I owed you flowers, Ellie. After all, you took a bullet for me.”
He shifted his gaze to her, watching as the color traveled up her chest and throat to her face.
“Do you want to explain why you were there, Ellie?”
She looked away. Instead of staring out the window at the panoramic view of the parking garage roof, she concentrated on the built-in locker on the opposite wall.
“Are you a witch, Ellie?”
Her eyes went wide as the color drained from her face. There, his answer, given without a word.
“You’re a member of NASACA, right?”
“Grace told you.”
He nodded. She had never told him about Ellie, however.
“Are you a witch?” he asked again.
“Suffer not a witch to live. That’s a question that has been very difficult to answer throughout time, Derek. What makes you think it’s easier to answer now?”
“Are you a witch?” he asked for the third time.
“Yes, I am,” she finally said. “And you, Derek McPherson, are a wizard.”
She’d startled him with her comment and seemed to know it, too, if the glint in her eyes was any indication.
“What’s your talent?”
Now she looked surprised. “Precognition. At least it’s my strongest talent.”
“Then I guess I should say thank you.”
She shrugged, winced, then frowned at him. “I just had the idea that you needed help.”
If she hadn’t intervened he might be dead now.
He decided to change the subject slightly. “How are you feeling?”
“Extraordinarily good, considering I had surgery a few days ago.”
“And you were shot. Don’t forget that part.”
Her smile faded. “I don’t think I’ll be able to for a very long time.”
He stood, not wanting to overstay his welcome. Besides, she wasn’t going to tell him why she’d been following him.
“I’ve taken a leave of absence from the paper. I have things I want to do, but I’ll need someone to help me. After you recover, would you consider coming to work for me? You wouldn’t be a reporter, but you would use your investigative skills. Plus, I can promise you that your income would be sufficiently greater than what you’re earning at the Herald.”
“Will I ever have to deal with Billy again?”
He smiled. “Nope.”
“That’s enough of an inducement right there. I accept.”
“I’m not sure it’s a career move, Ellie. There isn’t any upward mobility.”
“There isn’t at the Herald, either. Haven’t you noticed, papers are failing all over the country.”
That was true enough.
“I’m thinking of getting another dog. How do you feel about animals in the workplace?”
“I love dogs. I have one of my own. A boxer named Bax
ter.”
“Who’s taking care of him while you’re here?”
“He’s at my brother’s house. Jerry has a lab and he and Baxter are friends.”
“If you want to bring him to work that’s okay with me.”
“How can I possibly refuse, Derek? I accept.”
“Okay, but I don’t want you starting until you’re completely healed.”
She nodded.
At the door he turned and looked at her again. Her red hair was a cloud around her head. She reminded him of a painting, a Rubens-like figure who wasn’t overweight, but blessed with vibrant hues.
A month ago he was a reporter, married to a wealthy woman he loved. Now he was a wizard in training and a billionaire who’d just hired a witch as his assistant. His enemies were legion and currently unknown.
The future was looking interesting.
26
Derek continued his training with Grace in the next week. In addition to all the Latin words — and the correct declination of a spell Grace required him to memorize — he learned the purpose of the items in the chest in the secret room. The stones wrapped in wire were amulets. The selection of chains bound them to certain spells. Grace showed him rows and rows of pink to purple crystals on her shelves and explained, as well as demonstrated, what each was used for.
“A crystal is only used to accentuate a witch’s natural talents. A way of focusing, if you will. I doubt you’ll need their help, but it’s important that you know what other practitioners of magic use.”
At the end of the week he also had a good idea why Breanna had never told him about the secret room. He suspected that, while Lionel and Breanna both had been dedicated practitioners of magic, not all of it had been NASACA approved.
All the curiosity he’d always felt for politics, the way Austin worked, the various members of the Texas legislature, not to mention national officeholders, had been shunted to magic. He’d always kept notes on his phone and made sure they were backed up to his computer. Now he wrote down all of the questions that occurred to him in the evening or before he saw Grace. She spent an hour or more answering them.
