Midnight Magic

by Ann Gimpel

  Surprised to find the attic door shut since she’d left it open, Cassie tugged on the knob. Panic rose hot and grating when nothing happened. She banged on the door as she jerked ineffectually at it, crying for her mother like she hadn’t done since she was a small child.

  Whatever held the door yielded all at once. If it hadn’t been for the staircase railing, Cassie would’ve fallen a long way. As it was, she ended up a couple of steps down, clinging to one of the posts connecting the railing to the risers. Sucking in a raggedy breath, she crawled to the landing before staggering unsteadily to her feet.

  She peered into the attic. What she saw stunned her so badly she fell back a step, one foot hanging over empty air.

  Come on, she urged herself forward. Just go in there and bring her down to Jeremy. No telling how long he can hold Tyler at bay.

  Eleanora sat cross-legged in front of a fire that hovered above the attic floor. The bat was back in residence on her shoulder, its tiny claws twisted in her long hair. Rather than red, the flames were blues, golds, and greens, and there was a hole in the attic roof directly above the small conflagration.

  Had the fire come from the lightning?

  Understanding she’d focused on that because it was easier than assimilating the rest of the tableau, Cassie started forward. An apparition that looked a lot like her father faded in and out on one side of the flames. He held his hands stretched before him, and energy pulsed from them.

  “Mom?” Cassie dropped to her knees next to Eleanora.

  “She cannot talk yet,” the apparition informed her.

  “Father?” Cassie glanced at the ghostly figure.

  “Who in bloody blazes else might it be?” The clipped tones of his aristocratic British accent stabbed her like little darts. “While we’re at it, why didn’t you inform me what happened to Eleanora? I would’ve arrived far sooner than this and in a more corporeal form, I might add.”

  “I did use the stone to call you.” Defensiveness settled over her like a shroud. “Jesus Christ. I have enough problems without getting a raft of shit from you.”

  “You should’ve summoned me months ago. Why didn’t you?”

  “Maybe because I haven’t seen you since I was ten,” Cassie snapped. “Look, my friend’s alone down there with the one I think is responsible for—”

  He waved her to silence. “We already know about that. We’re attempting to sever the linkage. Lend your blood, and I do believe we shall have it.”

  “What?”

  “Blood. Have you gone deaf? Hold your arm over the fire.” He hesitated. When he spoke again, his tone was softer. “We tried your mother’s, but it didn’t work. Yours started this. We need yours to finish it.”

  He’s gone mad. That doesn’t make a whit of sense.

  “I haven’t seen you for fifteen years...” She shook her head. If what he was asking would bring her mother back, it would be worth it. Coming to her feet, she stuck out her arm and pulled her sleeve out of the way. A ghostly silver blade advanced out of the shadows. It sliced deep into the meaty part of her forearm. As her blood flowed into the unnatural flames, they blazed brighter, almost as if blood and fire were kin to one another.

  “I think you hit a vein,” she protested, her voice shaking.

  “Silence,” her father thundered. “I have to concentrate, or all this will be for naught.”

  The room spun out of control. Cassie kept her arm out for as long as she could, but a warm fog enveloped her, and her legs wobbled. The last thing she heard before she passed out was Eleanora saying, “That’s enough, Fran. You’ll kill her. Bind up her wound. I can do the rest on my own.”

  Mother. Mother’s talking.

  Trying desperately to move words from her mind to her throat, Cassie toppled in an untidy heap onto the splintery attic floorboards.

  Chapter Eight

  She awakened in the library with Jeremy bending over her. Worry flickered in his clear, green eyes. Murietta perched on her chest, brushing her beak up and down her cheeks, and Hector was curled on her feet. Her head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton. Keeping her eyes open was a struggle. The first thing she noticed, besides the resident menagerie, was a thick bandage wrapped about her right arm.

  “Mother?” she called weakly.

  “Yes, darling, I’m here.” Eleanora’s rich, throaty voice drifted in from the hall. “I was just making you a pot of tea and some biscuits. You’re far too thin, child. Did you stop eating this last year?”

  “You should talk.” Cassie craned her head around looking for her mother.

  Eleanora hurried into the room; her long hair had been brushed and braided. She set down a tray holding a steaming mug and a plate of cookies.

  “Magic momma, awk. Momma magic,” the parrot quorked. She fluffed her mottled gray plumage and then flapped her way to Eleanora’s shoulder.

  Struggling a bit, Cassie tried for a more upright position. Moving created waves of vertigo, so she gave up and shut her eyes, willing it to pass.

  Eleanora settled cool hands on either side of her face and chanted in Gaelic. “There, now try to sit,” she urged, insinuating an arm under Cassie’s back and rearranging the blanket covering her.

  “I can help.” Jeremy moved to her other side. Between them, they maneuvered Cassie into a sitting position with her legs stretched out on the coffee table. Hector gave a rather piteous meow before retreating to a fat pillow.

  “Here.” Jeremy thrust a cup of strong, black tea into Cassie’s nerveless hands.

  After a few sips, she glanced at her mother. “You put something else in here.”

  Her mother nodded and smiled knowingly. “A strengthening tonic. You lost quite a bit of blood, but that was quick thinking on Fran’s part. Your blood severed the enchantment...”

  “...and let me finish off Tyler,” Jeremy broke in grinning at her. “I wondered what the hell was taking you so long when I felt things shift.”

  “Where’s Father?” She looked around, half expecting to see him floating somewhere in the ether.

  “Projections are tiring,” her mother explained. “He did say he’d catch the first plane he could, though. So I expect he’ll turn up in the next couple of days.” Chuckling, she added, “He said you shouldn’t make a habit of sleeping with strange men. An affront to your British heritage and all that.”

  “What British heritage? It’s not like he’s been much of a father—”

  Eleanora shot her a look that silenced her. “I think he finally figured that out. He did drop everything and materialize when you summoned him, so you might give him some credit.”

  “Dropped everything? I pulled out that stone he left me a couple of days ago.”

  Her mother rolled expressive dark eyes. “Magical things work in their own time. You can’t judge them by computer standards.”

  From no parents to both of them. It’s going to take some adjusting.

  “Were you ever Murietta?” Cassie eyed her mother speculatively, remembering the bird’s warning earlier that evening.

  “Sometimes.” One corner of her mother’s mouth turned down. “It was the most I could manage. That fae demon had me in such a death grip—”

  Cassie wanted to ask more, but her eyes grew heavy. She suspected the tea. Fighting to stay awake, she said, “Was there really a connection between Tyler and what happened to you?”

  “More like a nefarious scheme,” Jeremy snapped. He clamped his jaws together, obviously angry.

  Eleanora held up a cautionary hand. “Time enough for long explanations later,” she murmured before turning to her daughter. “In a nutshell, Tyler bedded you during your moon flow and captured some of the fluid. Then he booked an appointment with me pretending to be another seer in need of mentoring. Once he got here, he used your blood to trap me. Blood to blood, Daughter. Never forget how much power resides there. Fran figured it out.”

  “All this was my fault?” Cassie clapped a hand over her mouth. Guilt threatened to swamp her.
“Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry...”

  Eleanora hugged her. “Hush. Nothing to apologize for. You couldn’t have known. Rest now, dear.”

  “Should we tell her about—?” Jeremy began.

  “Yes, but later,” Eleanora cut in.

  With her mother on one side and Jeremy on the other, Cassie floated in and out of consciousness. Their conversation flowed around her.

  “...the fae bastard?” Eleanora inquired. “You never did tell me.”

  “Dragged what was left out back when I was done with the Seraph blade and channeled lightning.”

  Eleanora sighed. “Unfortunate he didn’t suffer more, yet I’m grateful for an end to this.” She blew out a breath. “Thank you for watching over my daughter.”

  “My pleasure, Ellie. I’ve loved her for years. Breen finally gave me permission to follow my heart, so maybe...”

  “I’m sure she’ll come around,” her mother said softly. “I can help with that. A charm here, a potion there—”

  “You won’t need either of those.” Cassie curved her mouth into a crooked, sleepy smile. Prying her eyes open she focused on Jeremy. “’Cause I love you too.”

  “Magic’s daughter. Magic man. Happy, awk. Happy.” In a swirl of feathers, Murietta landed between them, nestling close.

  The last thing Cassie remembered was Jeremy’s arms around her as he lifted her from the couch, and her mother’s tender kiss on her forehead.

  “Stay with her,” Eleanora murmured.

  “Of course,” he replied and carried her toward the stairs.

  Chapter Nine

  Next time Cassie opened her eyes, it was still dark. After a moment of heart-pounding terror when she truly didn’t recognize where she was, she felt foolish.

  “I’m in my bed,” she muttered. “Jeremy brought me here after I passed out from whatever Mom put in that tea.” Reassured by the silky texture of her sheets, she glanced at the digital display across the room. Six in the morning. No wonder it wasn’t light yet.

  She rolled over and closed her eyes seeking more shut-eye time, but an overfull bladder nagged. Finally giving up, she dropped her feet over the side of the bed and made her way into the bathroom, her eyes at half-mast. She sat on the commode in a daze and moved her hand about in the semi-gloom hunting for the toilet paper rack. The bandage around her arm made her clumsy.

  A luminous streak followed her fingers.

  What the hell was that?

  She snapped her eyes fully open and moved her hand again, creating another streak of multihued light.

  “Must be the tea,” she mumbled. Fascinated, she splayed her fingers and drew them through the air. Five iridescent trails cut through the darkness, dissipating after a few seconds. She’d seen Eleanora do things like that, but—

  Cassie walked back into her bedroom, creating various effects with her fingers in the darkened room. She debated returning to bed, except she wasn’t at all sleepy anymore. The odd thing her hands were doing spooked her. Tugging the chain on an antique lamp, she hunted down the sweats she’d stripped off before Tyler made the fatal mistake of trusting her. After nearly kicking over the bottle of Calvados, she picked it up cautiously, carried it to the bathroom sink, and dumped what was left down the drain. She turned on the taps for good measure and let them run until no trace of the amber liquid remained.

  When she stared at her reflection, her mouth held a grim smile with such hard edges, she scarcely recognized herself. As grisly as Tyler’s demise had been, she was ecstatic to be rid of him. She patted the bandage over her arm and wondered just how bad the cut beneath it was.

  It’s a damned shame Tyler didn’t suffer more. Yeah-huh. Mom said the same thing last night.

  The best part was her mother was back. Cassie wondered where her mother had been and decided she’d have to find out more about how this magic stuff worked. Maybe if she’d been a little sharper, Tyler wouldn’t have been able to trick her in the first place. Humming a tuneless melody, she left the bathroom. Coffee would be just the thing to revive her, plus it would taste wonderful. Intent on heading for the kitchen, she opened the door to the hallway and ran right into an overstuffed chair with Jeremy in it.

  He grunted as his chair shifted an inch or two. “A bit early isn’t it?” he inquired, reaching out to snag her wrist.

  Her mouth fell open. “Have you been here all night?”

  “Yup. For what little was left of it anyway.” He swiveled his neck on his shoulders. “A bit stiff, but none the worse for wear.”

  “Why? There are lots of beds in this house.”

  “I wanted to be close to you. In case you had nightmares or something. Your mom and I discussed it. She wasn’t in all that great a shape, so I told her to dose herself with the tea she gave you and get some sleep.”

  He pulled her onto his lap. Cassie’s entire body left a glowing contrail.

  “What’s that?” She pointed with a none-too-steady finger. “I’ve been doing that ever since I got up. Is it something from the shaman tea?”

  “Mmph.” He snorted but didn’t say anything further.

  Dimly lit sconces lent just enough light for her to see him draw his brows together. “Feel like some coffee?” he asked after a pause that felt a tiny bit too long.

  He’s not answering me. Why?

  Breath caught in her throat. A hundred unspeakable explanations rushed through her, and she curled into a ball on his lap. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

  “Not wrong. Just different. It’ll be fine. I promise.” He closed his arms around her and rocked her against him. “There’s something you need to know, and I thought it might go best sitting in a well-lighted space over a cup of something hot.”

  Her stomach tied itself into a knot, and she pushed out of his arms. The fucking bandage made everything harder. On her feet, she raced down the hall to a light switch. Once the sconces blazed to full brilliance, she stomped back to him and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “There,” she announced a bit breathlessly. “We have light. Tell me.”

  He quirked a brow. She realized she was tapping a foot on the Oriental carpet runner that lined the hall.

  “Would you like to sit back down?” He patted his lap.

  She thought about it. “No. I want to be able to look at your face.” Retreating into her bedroom, she dragged her desk chair into the hall and sat across from him. Every movement left its own traces of luminosity, visible even with the lights turned up full. The more times her body did that, the more it freaked her out.

  “Okay. I’m sitting.” She gestured with one hand, batting at the multicolored streaks. “Christ, Jeremy. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he repeated. “Actually, it’s something right.” He waved one of his hands languidly through the air with similar results. “I can do the same thing.”

  “Yes, Mother can do it too. So what? Both of you can turn it on and off—whatever it is.” Chills tripped down her spine like uninvited guests. “For God's sake, start talking. I don’t need the War and Peace version.”

  He looked at her with something akin to sympathy in his eyes, and it only made her feel worse. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on right now,” she sputtered, “I’ll go wake Mother. Someone has to tell me.” Cassie swallowed hard and searched his face.

  He closed his eyes and, for a moment, he looked as otherworldly as he had the previous night.

  Jeremy dragged a weary hand down the stubble on his cheeks. “You lost a lot of blood last night. Too much, really.” At the expression on her face, he held up a hand. “No, you wanted to know. So don’t interrupt. It wasn’t your father’s fault. Not really. He had his hands full.” Jeremy cocked his head to one side. “It’s hard to explain to mortals what it’s like projecting yourself over distances. It drains you in erratic ways. Anyway, Fran miscalculated, and by the time he got things under control, you were dying. Your mother was far too weak to be of much help. Once I’d dispatched Tyler, I helped
bring you back.”

  She’d been watching him, and she knew him really well. “There’s something important you’re not telling me.” Cassie wrapped her arms around herself. She felt cold, but it wasn’t the kind of cold where a sweater would fix things.

  “We—Fran and I—used my blood to ensure you’d survive.”

  Cassie regarded him through slitted eyes. Disbelief skittered through her. “How? There’s scarcely transfusion equipment here.”

  “Magic.” A corner of his mouth twitched. “You had that huge gash on your arm. You haven’t seen it yet, but trust me, it’s probably six inches long. I cut into my arm, laid it next to yours, and instructed my blood to migrate.”

  “Show me.”

  Nodding, he rolled up a sleeve. Sure enough, a two-inch wound emerged. Except it looked well on its way to being healed.

  “No way you could’ve done that last night,” she exclaimed. “If I unwrapped my bandage—”

  “Cassie,” he broke in, “it’s healing so fast because I have power and can focus it for things like this.” He hesitated. “It appears the combination of Eleanora’s and Fran’s blood, along with my own, means you finally have magic too. That’s what those odd lights mean. It’s psychic energy that you don’t know how to control yet bleeding out of you.”

  Her arms were already wrapped close around her body, but she shook uncontrollably. Cassie hugged herself tighter, afraid if she let go she’d break into a million pieces.

  Magic? Me? ran through her brain over and over like a perverted mantra.

  “I really do wish you’d come here.” Jeremy held out his arms. “It’s a lot to take in all at once, but it’s not like you didn’t grow up with the stuff.”

  She looked longingly at his offered embrace and made a decision. “Come on.” She stood and held out a hand. “Let’s lie down. That way I’ll have you and the covers. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get warm again.” She clamped her teeth shut to stop them from chattering.

  Without waiting to see if he’d follow her, she bolted for her bed and dove under the duvet, slithering to the spot that was still warm from where she’d slept. Jeremy tugged the bedroom door shut behind them and drew the drapes back before joining her.