Daughter of the Spellcaster

by Maggie Shayne

  “I’ve done what I can,” Bahru said softly, lifting his hands from her mother’s head. “I can do more later, when things are less...tumultuous.”

  “Yes. Fine. Listen, Ryan’s cooking. Would you like some breakfast?”

  “Thank you, but no. I am fasting today.”

  “You’re already barely more than a bag of bones, Bahru. If you were caught by starving cannibals, they’d throw you back out of mercy.”

  He grinned at her, looking like the old Bahru for just the briefest second. And only in that second did she realize how different he’d been before she’d left Manhattan. Before she had quit her job. Before Ernst had died. So much lighter. There was a new darkness around Bahru, a shadow behind his eyes and a heaviness to his being that she was only now seeing.

  “I have already stocked my little cottage with supplies.”

  “And where did you manage to find wheat grass and goat’s milk out here?”

  His smile flashed again. “I bought enough to last an entire month from the Whole Earth Co-Op before we left the city.”

  “You’re good to go, then.”

  “I am.” His smile faded slowly. “You’ve never been anything but kind to me, Lena. I wish...” He hesitated, gathered himself, then went on. “I wish this wasn’t necessary.”

  “What? Telling me Ryan’s secrets? It’s all right, Bahru. I won’t shoot the messenger.”

  He couldn’t seem to hold her eyes for more than a moment at a time. He couldn’t have looked guiltier if he’d been caught stealing candy from her baby. “I will be nearby should you need me again.”

  “Thanks, Bahru.”

  Palm press. Head bow. Then he padded away into the hall and down the stairs.

  She watched him go, then stared down at her mother’s sleeping form. “You’d think we were having a funeral in here, wouldn’t you? Hell, I guess he’s still in mourning. You know how much he loved the old billionaire, right?” Her lips thinned. “It bothers him, ratting Ryan out to me like that.”

  Selma said nothing, just lay still, peaceful.

  “I’m going down for some breakfast, Mom. If you wake up, I’ll bring you something. And if you don’t wake up pretty soon, I’m going to have to take you to a hospital so they can put an IV into you before you starve to death. But I’m willing to give you a little more time. Okay?”

  Nothing. She bent to kiss her mother’s forehead, then straightened again and headed down to the kitchen, where Ryan was looking as domestic, well-intentioned and innocent as he could possibly manage to look.

  Her first instinct was to flay him to the bone—verbally, anyway—for daring to even think about taking custody of Eleanora—the name the baby had made it clear she’d chosen for herself. She paused halfway into the kitchen, gathering up her words and her wits, working up to a big explosion while he scooped a giant, perfect omelet from the pan and divided it onto two waiting plates. Before he even looked up, he said, “I need to return the truck to the nearest U-Haul place today. But I need a vehicle of some sort while I’m here. Is there a dealer anywhere close?”

  “A dealer?” Her mind wasn’t on what he was saying but on constructing the telling-off he was about to receive.

  “A car dealer. Truck, really. I think out here we need a truck. Don’t you?”

  She blinked. He looked up at her, then seemed to wonder what was going on in her head and studied her curiously. “You all right? You look like you just swallowed a lemon.”

  It wasn’t a lemon she was swallowing. It was her well-deserved rant. Because he had just reminded her of something. He was the kind of guy who could drive into town to return a rental truck and stop along the way to buy a brand-new vehicle, any kind he wanted. If it could be found, he could plunk down his credit card and drive it away.

  He could afford the best lawyers in the world. And he could afford to do whatever it took to win a custody battle.

  Then again, so could she. But she wouldn’t use the baby’s trust fund that way, and he probably knew it.

  She would fight him to the death, even if it cost everything else she had, but she hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. However, it might be best not to show her hand too soon. And not to antagonize him until she had her own game plan laid out.

  Drawing a deep breath, she focused on shifting her anger onto a back burner to keep it warm until the time was right. In the meantime, she would make nice.

  “Lena?”

  “No, I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile and moving toward the table. “Just tired, and of course worried about Mom.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “About Mom?”

  He nodded, carrying the plates to the table, then spinning back to the oven and pulling out a tray of biscuits that wafted a heavenly aroma throughout the entire kitchen.

  “You made biscuits?”

  “The little pop-can of dough was just sitting in the fridge, so...” He quickly plunked a couple onto their plates.

  Finally he sat.

  She eyed the feast before her. A bottle of hot sauce stood in the center of the table. He’d remembered that she liked it on her eggs. Her tea was already poured. He had coffee, and it smelled heavenly. But no caffeine for their daughter.

  Lena was reluctantly grateful, and seeing him like this, all helpful and concerned about her mother, she had trouble believing he was secretly plotting to steal her baby. On the other hand, both the house ghost and Bahru were warning her now. So there had to be something to it, right?

  “Dig in, babe. You’re eating for two.”

  She nodded, and since she was starved and it smelled delicious, she ate a few bites. Then she paused, and decided to go fishing. “Ryan?” she asked, after washing down the luscious omelet with a swig of tea.

  “Yeah?”

  “I...I ran away from you because I thought a baby was the last thing in the world you would want.”

  He nodded. “I know that.”

  “But I wasn’t lying before, when I said I never intended to have this child in secret. I mean, I know I let an awful lot of time go by, but I really was going to call and let you know.”

  He stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. “I know you were.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” He searched her face. “Look, I was acting like an idiot back then. And the thing is...” He set his fork down and seemed to turn his attention inside for a moment. Then, with a firm nod, he faced her again and went on. “Here’s the thing. I was doing it on purpose.”

  She blinked. “I don’t...follow.”

  “I didn’t want you or any woman to ever think of me as a guy who could be...you know, landed.”

  “Landed. Like a fish.”

  “Right.” That wasn’t the kind of fishing she’d meant, though. “I was playing the role everybody expected me to. I think I might even have believed it myself, so I can’t really blame you for buying the act.”

  “Act?”

  He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. It was big and strong and warm, and it sent chills right up her arm. “I came out here to start trying to show you who I really am, Lena. I came out here to try to earn the right to be a part of our child’s life.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I...I mean I—”

  “No, don’t. I’m not asking you for anything right now. You’ve got enough on your mind. I’m here. Just let me hang, let me help, lean on me a little, and don’t worry about anything else. Not right now. Okay?”

  She wanted to believe him more than she wanted to finish the luscious omelet. And that was saying something. “Okay.”

  “Good. Now, eat, will you?”

  Maybe Bahru was wrong. Or maybe Ryan had talked to a lawyer, but only be
cause he was worried that she would try to keep the baby from him, not the opposite. Maybe...maybe a hundred things.

  “Eat,” he said again.

  It made her smile just a little. “You don’t have to tell me to eat. You’re lucky I haven’t eaten you by now.”

  His smile was instant and genuine. “I’ve really missed you, Lena.”

  Her heart did a little dance in her chest, and she whispered, “I’ve missed you, too.”

  9

  He felt good—damn good—about the way things were going with Lena. Except, of course, for whatever the hell had happened to her mother. Not to mention that he was still antsy about the magic knife he had tucked under the seat of the rental truck, but he was trying not to let that bother him too much right now. Meanwhile, he had a project to get underway, and he needed a pickup.

  He drove the rental through the pouring rain into nearby Ithaca and chose a big black F250 extended-cab truck, so he could fit a baby carrier in the backseat. The dealer handed him the keys and agreed to return the rental truck for him.

  Before he left, he took that damned box out from under the rental truck’s seat and tucked it underneath the front seat of the new one.

  One task down.

  Task two, the local hardware store back in Milbury for paintbrushes and rollers, trays and blue tape, sandpaper and more. He intended to make himself useful while he was taking up space in Lena’s old farmhouse, and contrary to popular belief, he knew how to work with his hands. He’d helped more than one friend redo a room.

  He was pondering paint colors for the trim—pink to go with Lena’s premonition, or a gender-neutral yellow or green?—when he overheard a man’s voice an aisle over.

  “It happened last night. Ben Fromer’s farm.”

  “No fucking way. A calf?”

  “Just a few days old. Some bastard slit its throat, left it lying there. And get this—not a drop of blood anywhere.”

  “What the hell, man? Second time this month, isn’t it?”

  “That we know of.”

  “So what’s the sheriff say?”

  “Shit, he’s as clueless as the rest of us. Thinks it might be kids playing around with occult shit or something, but what the hell are they doing with the blood?”

  The two men stopped talking and looked at Ryan with undisguised curiosity, and only then did he realize he’d moved closer, inching around the corner and forgetting to be discreet. He was standing three feet away now, and looking right at the men, one of whom wore a red apron with the store logo on the front, so he shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, I...was looking to get some paint mixed?” He held up the color cards in his hand.

  They eyed him suspiciously, but the man in the apron, whose name tag identified him as Bob, took the cards from his hand and nodded, while the other guy wandered away.

  “You’re not a local, are you?” Bob asked as he yanked a can of white base coat off the shelf and took it to the mixing stand.

  “No, I’m visiting. Staying with Lena Dunkirk and her mother.”

  Bob’s eyes shot to Ryan’s. “Talk around town is those two are some kind of new-age crystal-wearing witches or something. You know anything about that?”

  Definitely not good, Ryan thought. Lena seemed to believe they’d been “flying” under the radar. Clearly that was not the case. “Huh,” he said. “I’ve known them for over a year, and I’ve never seen either one of them riding a broomstick. But I’ll be sure to keep an eye out.”

  The guy grunted. “Been strange things happening since they came here.”

  “Since they came here? Really? ’Cause they’ve been here more than six months now, and didn’t that other guy say the weird stuff started a month or so ago? Or is there other weird stuff, besides that thing with the calf blood?”

  “No, no, that’s the only thing. Unless you count the weather.”

  “The weather?”

  The man nodded toward the front windows. “It’s January, friend. And it’s raining. It ought to be snowing. But it’s raining. That’s weird.”

  “That’s global warming. I know people are still arguing about whether it’s man-made or a natural cycle, but I don’t think anyone’s claiming it’s witchcraft.”

  Bob shrugged. “Still and all, we never had calves with their throats cut before those two moved out here.”

  “Come on, now, you really think a woman who’s eight months pregnant and her mother are into sneaking out at night and butchering cattle?”

  “Scuttlebutt is, one of ’em was out in the woods doin’ somethin’ last night, though.”

  Ryan’s blood ran cold. “This town has some grapevine. But you ought to know better than to listen to gossip like that, friend. Someone could get hurt.”

  Bob focused on his work, running his finger along a color chart. “I’ll have this ready for you in about ten minutes. You have other shopping to do?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Ryan said, knowing he’d just been told to take a hike. So he did. But damn, this kind of gossip, combined with what looked like ritual cattle murders, did not bode well for Lena and her mother.

  Shit, maybe some local had taken it upon himself to do something about it. Maybe that was what had happened to Selma. He was suddenly eager to get back to the house, to warn the women about the sort of talk being generated about them. It was dangerous talk. And it needed to stop.

  * * *

  Lena had spent the entire gloomy, rainy morning working on her hand-stenciled sunflower border in the kitchen. When she heard the car in the driveway she smiled. It had to be Ryan, back from his errands, and the thought of him walking through the front door filled her entire body with a ridiculous warm, glowy feeling that was, she decided, very poorly thought out. Okay, not thought out at all. She had to be careful, because she could far too easily fall far too in love with him and get her heart broken all over again.

  She’d decided to wait for him to get back from his errands to make up her mind whether to take her mother to the hospital or not. Doc had already phoned in to check on her, and he’d said she would probably sleep for a few more hours. It had been a late night, after all. He’d promised to come by later in the day.

  When she heard a knock at the front door, though, she frowned. Didn’t Ryan know he could just walk right in? She went to the door, wiping her hands on a rag, yanked it open and felt her welcoming smile freeze in place when she met the sky-blue eyes of the blond-haired, steely-faced woman in a white, faux-fur-trimmed raincoat standing at the door, a large tote bag over her shoulder.

  “Ms. Dunkirk?” the woman asked.

  “Uh...yes?”

  “Eloise Sheldrake, R.N.”

  Lena frowned. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  “Doc Cartwright sent me. He has a full day and asked me to check in on your mother for him.”

  “Oh.” Lena stepped aside and waved the woman in. Just before she closed the door, she saw a little black cat streak across the driveway toward the small shed and duck inside through a broken board. She had no idea where it had come from, but at least it had found shelter.

  She closed the door and returned her attention to her visitor. “I’m glad you’re here, actually, because I just don’t know what to do about feeding her. I mean, if she doesn’t wake up soon, she’s going to need an IV or something, right?”

  “We’ll see.” Eloise smiled. It was a only a brief flicker, but it transformed her face. She was beautiful when she smiled. But the expressionless mask returned instantly. “Is she upstairs?” the nurse asked with a glance at the stairway.

  “Yes. I’ll take you up. Can I get your coat?”

  Eloise took off her coat, revealing a uniform that could have come from the 1960s and went perfectly with her sensible shoes. Then she pulled an old-fashioned nurse’s cap out of the bag and put
it on, complete with two bobby pins to anchor it to her blond hair. She pulled a little black satchel from inside her bag, then gave a firm nod and met Lena’s eyes again. “Take me to her now. Her name is Selma?”

  “Yes. This way.” Lena swallowed her misgivings as she led Eloise up the stairs. Doc had talked often about a nurse, had even tried to convince her to have one move in until the baby came. She was pretty sure this must be the nurse in question, though she’d expected someone a bit older. This woman was, she estimated, in her thirties.

  She led the nurse into her mother’s bedroom, then stopped, staring in shock.

  Selma was sitting up in bed, thumbing through a magazine. She looked up when they came into the room and smiled. “Well, hi, honey. I don’t know what’s the matter with me this morning. I’m so tired. I think I might be coming down with something.” Then her eyes shifted to the nurse. Her expression turned curious but remained friendly. “Hello.”

  “Hello, Selma.”

  “Mom, this is Nurse Sheldrake–”

  “Eloise, if you don’t mind,” said the nurse.

  “Doc Cartwright sent her over to have a look at you.”

  Selma frowned. “But...how did he know I wasn’t feeling well?”

  Lena bit her lower lip, then turned to the nurse. “Eloise, can you give us a minute? There’s coffee in the kitchen. Why don’t you make yourself a cup?”

  Those striking blue eyes shifted from Selma to Lena, but her expression never changed. Stony. “Fine. I’ll be back in five minutes.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

  “Hon, what’s going on?” Selma asked.

  Lena sat on the edge of the bed. “You never came home from last night’s...” she looked toward the doorway and lowered her voice “...gathering.” Her mother looked a little confused, so Lena clarified in a whisper. “You had a full moon esbat last night with Betty and Jean.”

  “Oh, right.” Selma sent a look at the ceiling with a self-deprecating shake of her head. “Gosh, brain-dead this morning. I remember now. It was great, Lena. You should have been there. Betty got some flash paper and didn’t tell us, so we damn near jumped right out of our skins when she—” She stopped there, her frown returning, deeper than before. “I didn’t come home?”