For Love or Magic

by Lucy March

  It was turning out to be a pretty good day.

  Chapter 12

  I woke up in the dead of night to the sound of crashing dishes. Seamus, sleeping on the rug by my bed, of course heard nothing. I nudged him with my toes as I got out of bed, he jolted up and walked beside me as I moved down the hallway into my kitchen. I flipped on the light and saw a dinner plate go flying from the kitchen over the dining room table, and into the front window, where it exploded into a thousand ghostly pieces that dissolved into nothing as they hit the floor. Seamus panted at my side, but when I let go of his collar, he just ambled over to his water dish and took a drink.

  After all, there was nothing for him to see.

  Judd sat on the kitchen counter. The cabinet holding my small collection of sad, mismatched dishes was open, but I’d probably left it open. Between Judd’s legs there was a ghostly bottle of Jim Beam which had maybe a third left, and Judd took a gulp when he saw me. He reached into the cabinet, grabbed a ghostly dish, and threw it at the window again. Once again, it shattered and dissolved into nothing. All my plates were undisturbed, in the cabinet.

  “It’s all imaginary,” he said, staring at the window. “The dishes, the booze. I can make them appear, but they don’t have weight. They don’t have heft. They don’t have shit.” Still, he took another drink, because he was Judd, and he’d never met a self-destructive behavior he didn’t take to like a fish to water.

  “Just go toward the light, Judd, okay?” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Maybe they’ll have real booze over there.”

  “You won’t let me!” He hopped off the kitchen counter and came toward me. “You’re holding on to me, and until you let go, I’m stuck here!” He stopped just short of walking through me, and when I looked up at him, all I could see were wild eyes staring down at me.

  “But … no.” I rubbed my arms, trying to come awake. Was this a dream? “You’re just a reflection of my inner whatever. You’re not you. You’re just … me. I can’t hurt you, because you’re not you. What the hell time is it?”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall, but my eyes wouldn’t focus, so I walked through Judd to get a closer look.

  “Oh, god, it’s four o’clock in the morning. I’ve had two hours of sleep.”

  “You think you can’t hurt me? How do you think I felt, watching my wife have sex with that fucking limey asshole?”

  I turned to face Judd. He really did look distraught. I couldn’t even begin to figure out what kind of psychological break I must be having. It was just too early in the morning. So instead of trying to figure it out, I decided to treat this mirage like it was Judd. Really, actually Judd. Not some extension of my subconscious, not some imaginary security blanket. And the second I made that decision to see this whatever as really Judd, I was pissed.

  “Are you seriously kidding me?” I said, moving toward him. “What about you and Christy McNagle? What about those poor cops who had to come and tell a woman that not only was her husband dead, but he was sleeping with someone else, too? What about all that debt that ate up everything we had? You gave me nothing when we were together, and you left me with less than nothing when you died. I’m not going to apologize for not living like a nun, Judd.”

  “I had sex with someone else, yeah,” Judd said, jabbing a finger to his chest as though he was making some kind of self-righteous point. “That doesn’t matter. That’s body parts. That’s nothing.”

  I laughed a furious laugh. “Even dead, you’re delusional. A person would think you’d get some kind of clarity in the great beyond, Judd, but you’re just as much of an idiot as you were when you died.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” Judd said. “The point is, I didn’t fall in love with anyone else, Ellie. I loved you. Only you.”

  “Yeah, you loved me so much you cheated on me and lied to me about meeting with my father. My father, Judd. How could you not tell me about that?”

  He put his hands on his hips, his lips thinned with anger. “You love him?”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “What? Yeah. I don’t know. Maybe.” I shrugged and sighed. “I don’t know. He’s my father. It’s complicated. He’s … complicated. I’m still figuring all that out. And what the hell is it to you, anyway?”

  “No,” Judd said, his voice forceful and cold. “Do you love … him?”

  I froze, my thoughts in a jumble. “What? Who? Desmond?”

  Judd held his hands out in a gesture of frustration, and if he’d had a neck, I would have throttled it.

  “That’s none of your damn business,” I said. “We’re not married anymore, and you cheated on me. I am the one here who’s done nothing wrong. Let’s keep that straight.”

  Judd took a hard swig from his ghostly bottle and made a face. “I see how you are with him. The way you laugh, the way you touch your face when he looks at you…”

  “I don’t touch my … agh! I’m not having this conversation.” I closed my eyes and scrunched up my fists. “Go away, Judd. Just go toward the light. If you’re a real ghost, then I release you, and if you’re not, then I want to trade you in for something else. Maybe a psychosomatic facial tic with no goddamn opinions. Just go!”

  I kept my eyes closed for a while, and everything was quiet. I could hear Seamus’s feet shuffling across the floor and the gentle thud of his body hitting the living room rug, stretching out to go to sleep. I listened carefully for any other sound, real or imagined, but there was nothing, so I opened my eyes.

  Judd was standing right in front of me.

  “Oh, man,” I whined. “Why are you still here?”

  “You tell me.” His voice wasn’t angry anymore, and there was a smile in his eyes as he looked down at me. “Why am I still here?”

  I shrugged and moved into the kitchen to get away from him. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You need to figure it out,” Judd said. “Neither one of us is going to move on until you do.”

  I drank the water, thinking. “I don’t know. I miss you, maybe?”

  “Why?” Judd said. “I was never home. I cheated on you. I left you in debt. I lied about your dad.”

  “Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.” I ran my hands through my hair, suddenly feeling bone-tired. “I don’t know why I keep you around. I really don’t.”

  “Wanna hear a theory?”

  “No.”

  “Because I loved you.”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Oh, yeah. You made that patently obvious, what with the sleeping with other women and leaving me alone with less than nothing.”

  He moved closer, close enough to kiss me, if he’d been corporeal. “I loved you. And when you were with me, you knew I loved you. And you’re afraid I’m the only one who ever will love you. If you let me go, that’s it. You’re alone.”

  I felt a stab in my gut at his words, which meant they were probably true, and that seriously pissed me off. “Oh, please. Spare me your armchair psychology. If the way you loved me was the best I could ever do…” I trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence, and looked up at him. Judd. My dumb, beautiful, fucked-up Judd.

  “Oh, Ellie,” he said softly. “If I had anything, I would give it all to be able to hold you right now,” he said. At that moment, I felt a hard nudge at my knee, and there was Seamus, rubbing his head against my leg affectionately.

  “Oh, sweetie,” I said, and dropped down to hug him. I had no idea how he knew I was upset; he couldn’t hear a damn thing. But as I hugged him and snuggled into his massive furriness, he wagged his tail and nuzzled me, and I felt better.

  Some time later, I don’t know how long, I looked up and Judd was gone. I pushed up to stand, walked over to the cabinet and shut it, then led Seamus back to my bedroom, where we both passed out cold.

  *

  The next evening, I clutched the neck of the wine bottle in my hand and looked up at Desmond as we walked down the street toward Liv’s house. Things betw
een us were sexually charged, but relaxed about it. No casual kisses at the door, no hand-holding, no talk of being boyfriend and girlfriend or anything goofy like that. At the same time, I had every expectation that we’d be having more great sex at the first opportunity. It was pretty much the perfect friendship.

  Or it would have been, if Desmond didn’t look so miserable.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.

  Physically, he looked great. He was in his usual getup of a shirt and tie and trousers, and I was wearing a little swirly dress in a deep blue that matched his tie, a little coincidence that I found really sweet. But as fine a figure as he cut in his clothes, his face was understandably tense.

  He forced a small smile. “I’m fine. This will be … fun.”

  I stopped and turned to face him. We were about two houses down from Liv’s, and this was our last chance to run.

  “We don’t have to go,” I said. “I’m perfectly happy to run off to the park and drink this on the swings, just the two of us.” I held up the wine, enticing him. “Come on. I saw on YouTube how you can open a bottle of wine with just a shoe and a hard surface.”

  “No,” he said quickly, and followed it up with a smile. “No. For better or worse, this is the magical community here, and it’s time to face the music. This was bound to all come to a head sooner or later. At least this way there will be alcohol.”

  I reached up and touched the hairline scar on his eyebrow, the one visible scar that had to be the tip of an iceberg full of invisible ones. “I never noticed that before.”

  He touched his eyebrow self-consciously and said, “Oh, yes. I did that to myself.”

  I pulled my hand down, but didn’t push him on it. “Yeah. I’ve got a few of those, too.”

  He took the wine from my hand. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” We walked the rest of the way down the street, and before we could hit the doorbell, Peach threw the door open, her arms splayed out in enthusiastic greeting.

  “Eliot!” she said, and pulled me into a fierce hug. I hugged her back, matching her enthusiasm. She released me and smiled up at Desmond.

  “Hey, there, you,” she said. She was gentler reaching out to him, but there was genuine affection in her eyes as she put her arm around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her cheek. Behind her, a bald guy who was only an inch or so taller than Peach approached us.

  “Oh, Eliot! This is my Nicky!” Peach reached out to a swarthy bald dude with smiling eyes and pulled him toward our group. I was kind of amazed, looking at him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive; he was obviously well toned and there was a sharpness in his eyes that belied an above average intelligence, but he was also on the shorter side and, overall, kind of average looking. It was hard to see how he could be related to someone as stunning as Stacy Easter, never mind winning the love of a bombshell like Peach. But then, not everything is about raw physical attraction, and good people got more attractive as you got to know them, the same way that bad people got less attractive. Nick smiled a warm, crooked-toothed smile, and in an instant, I saw the appeal. I held out my hand to him.

  “Hi, Nick. It’s so great to meet you. Peach has told me so much about you.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure all good, right?” He winked at Peach, then pulled me in to kiss me on the cheek. He stepped back, looked up at Desmond, and while his smile waned a bit … this was, after all, the same man who had viciously attacked his sister … he was all cordiality. Peach had worked on him, it was pretty obvious, but if Nick had any remaining hard feelings for Desmond, he didn’t let them show.

  “Glad you could make it, man,” he said, and shook Desmond’s hand.

  Desmond’s smile was tight, and I felt his discomfort, but he didn’t shrink away. “Thank you for the invitation.”

  “Okay, enough pussyfooting around,” Peach said. She took the wine from Desmond, handed it to Nick, then stepped between me and Desmond and tucked her arms in our elbows. “Let’s go face the firing squad.”

  With that, she led us down the foyer and through the archway into the living room. Stacy and Leo sat in a corner of the couch, and Tobias—clean shaven, and looking healthy if still a little thin—smiled and waved as we walked in.

  “Eliot, Desmond,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Hi, Tobias,” I said, and Desmond nodded austerely in Tobias’s direction.

  Peach cleared her throat. “Okay, this is gonna be painful, so I say we just strip naked, paint ourselves blue, and run at it screaming, what do you say?”

  She angled me and Desmond toward Stacy and Leo, and I said, “I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds kind of alarming.”

  “It’s how the Scottish used to go into battle,” Desmond said. “To terrify the enemy.”

  “It’s not working,” Stacy muttered.

  “Stacy has some unresolved feelings about Desmond,” Peach said, “and I think we should just resolve them, don’t you guys agree?”

  “Oh, no,” Liv said. I looked up to see her standing in the archway that led to what appeared to be a formal dining room, a platter of appetizers in her hand. She waved at me and Desmond, her smile worried. “Hey, guys. Welcome to my home. Peach, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Don’t worry, sweetie,” Peach said. “We’re finishing this up here and now, for good, so we can have a nice dinner.”

  Tobias and Liv exchanged a look, and Tobias said, “I’m gonna go get a corkscrew.”

  “Yeah, I’ll help you with that,” Liv said, escaping behind him out into the dining room.

  Peach moved from between me and Desmond and waddled to the big easy chair. “Would you guys like to sit down?”

  Desmond and I demurred as she plunked down into her seat. “Okay, who’s gonna get us started?”

  There was a long silence, and then Desmond cleared his throat. “Perhaps…” He visibly swallowed. “Perhaps … I … sh-should…”

  Another long silence. Nick leaned one hip against the side of Peach’s chair and muttered in singsong, “Told you this was a bad idea.”

  “Nope,” Peach said. “I’m a thousand months pregnant and I have no patience for this crap anymore. Stacy, Leo … you guys gotta get over this. Eliot’s good people and Desmond is really sorry for what he did. I think you need to give him a second chance, and I think it should start now.”

  “That’s great, Peach,” Stacy said coolly. “Want me to tell you what I think?”

  “No,” Peach said, giving Stacy a loving but firm look, and I could see the mom in her already. “Look, if we were all just people here, then I’d say, ‘Whatever,’ and let it go. But you guys are all magical. You’re going to need each other. When Tobias came back, it was Eliot and Desmond who saved him. Would you have jumped in like that, no questions asked, if the roles were reversed, Stacy?”

  Stacy shrugged, but didn’t argue.

  “Now Eliot’s here, and no one knows what the hell is going on with her, but when that shit hits the fan…” Peach made a gesture of apology toward me. “Sorry, honey, but we’ve got some experience here and the shit always hits the fan eventually.”

  “No, that’s fair,” I said.

  Peach smiled and looked back at Stacy. “When the shit hits the fan, if Desmond is the one who comes to you in need, and you hesitate even for a second, people could get hurt. I won’t have it. No.” She shook her head and crossed her arms, resting them on top of her massive belly. “It all gets cleared up now. Tonight.”

  Leo had one arm protectively around Stacy’s shoulders, but the other hand made a fist in his lap, and I could see his jaw muscles working under his cheek. Desmond looked as horribly uncomfortable as I’d ever seen him, and Stacy was staring blue murder at Peach.

  I was on Nick’s side; this did not seem like a good idea.

  “Maybe we should just go,” I said, and touched Desmond’s elbow as I moved toward the door. He stayed where he was.

  “Perhaps we should, but first…” He stepped away from me, t
oward Stacy and Leo. “I’m not asking your forgiveness. I cannot see how an apology could be adequate for what I’ve done. I don’t blame you in the least for—”

  “I don’t care whether you blame us or not,” Stacy interrupted, her eyes blazing. “Why the hell are you even still here? That’s what I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just leave town, like any decent human being would have done?” Her eyes narrowed as she stared him down. “Oh, well, I guess I just answered my own question.”

  I waited for Desmond to defend himself, to explain that he was here protecting them, but he didn’t say anything, just kept his eyes low and stood with his feet braced, like a man on the bow of a ship facing down a hurricane.

  “Look, Desmond,” Leo said finally, his voice soft and calm, in stark contrast to his girlfriend. “I can forgive what you did to me—”

  “I can’t,” Stacy said through clenched teeth, but Leo squeezed her hand, and she seemed to calm down a bit.

  “But I can’t forgive what you did to her.” Leo’s jaw muscles worked, and I could see the toll that staying calm and reasonable was taking on him. “I’ve tried, but every time I see you, man … I just want to kill you. I mean it, I want to smash your head into a wall. It’s not who I am. It’s not the man I want to be, but…” He shook his head, and looked at Peach. “I’m sorry, Peach. I really am.”

  Again, Desmond said nothing. He just stood there, still as stone, and took it. Much the way he’d taken the punches from Nick in that story Peach told me. He wasn’t going to walk away. He wasn’t going to deny them their justice. If Leo got up at that moment and tried to kill him, Desmond would let him do it.

  Well, I wouldn’t.

  “You know why he’s still here?” I said, stepping forward. “To protect you.”

  “Eliot,” Desmond said, but I ignored him.

  “Desmond knew that Emerson Streat was probably up to no good, and he stayed here to watch over you, over all of you, and no matter what you do to him, he’s going to stay until he knows you’re all safe. No matter how much you hate him.” I looked at Nick. “Or how badly you beat him.”