Magic.
I rolled over and pushed the breath from my chest. Wow. And here I was, all twisted into a pretzel with a sweaty, muscled man who made me feel like, well, doing that, and more, all over again.
A shiver erupted like an aftershock of an earthquake. Echoes of the orgasm, I figured.
Until I heard the voice.
“Dammit, Ella!”
My eyes darted around the room, I crossed my legs and covered each breast with my palms. This was the first time in my life I think I was glad I could do that. Having Sam see me like this would be like…like my own father seeing me in bed with someone. Another shiver, this time I knew its source—repulsion.
“Shhh. Don't say my name. Quentin doesn't know I'm here. I don't want him to know.”
How could I converse? Where was he? Invisible. That’s it. He must have gotten some gems and hopped in unseen. Oh. I didn’t dare wonder how much he had seen.
Quentin rolled over and slid an arm over me. Great. Now I was stuck under Casanova with the Pope standing over me. I certainly wasn’t feeling very Mother Theresa-like right now.
“I can hear your thoughts, even the ones you don’t vocalize in your head. I see the ones Quentin can’t find. I’m in you, Ella.”
I wriggled away, ignoring Quentin’s mumbled protest. I danced the dance of the squeamish. It probably wouldn’t have been worse if someone had just poured a bucket of maggots on me.
“Ella, please. You make it sound so bad.”
“But, you…you—”
“I know, I know,” the voice echoed in my head. “I’m like your father. But not quite. Right now I am your protector, your hidden spy, your secret weapon. You need to go about your daily business. I will be here, listening, learning. There is much you don’t know.”
“But…”
“Ella. Please. Don’t have any more sex with Quentin while I’m here, okay? I really am not attracted to him.”
Now I wanted to barf. Was there a bucket down here? Anything? There had to be a toilet. Where the hell was the goddamn toilet? I pulled on clothes. I hopped on one foot while trying to yank my jeans up over my thighs, which were still sticky with sweat. Nothing could be easy, could it?
I went through the doorway. It was dark, very dark. I couldn’t toss my cookies into something I couldn’t see. What if there was something already in the toilet? Something that had crawled in there and died or… I felt sicker just thinking about it.
“Ella, I will take over this body in a minute if you don’t get a grip. Other than your purse episode, you’ve been the pillar of strength.”
“Who, me?”
“I know what you’ve done. Choosing you was right. Winzey found me.”
“Winzey!” I gulped, almost fearful I had yelped out loud.
Quentin was reclined, still naked, in front of the fire. “Ella, where are you going?”
“Uh, bathroom?”
“It’s rather dark in there.”
“What gave you that clue, Sherlock? Is there a lamp or something I can use? A bowl of dried grass, anything?”
Quentin rose, and strolled over to the white closet doors along the opposite wall. Nice ass.
“Ella?” It was a growl I could feel in my own throat.
Come on now, I’m a hormone-ridden woman who just had another taste of some real fine male-flesh.
“Stop right there. Do not remember, reminisce or even plan your next encounter until I’m safely out of radar range.”
“Then you’ll be leaving…tonight?”
“Nope.”
Sam was a real party pooper.
Quentin hadn’t a freaking clue. That in itself was mighty hilarious. I let my eyes rove up and down his body. It landed on his smug face.
“You like what you see?”
I shrugged, waiting for my hand to involuntarily smack me in the forehead. “I did like what I felt.”
He handed over an old-fashioned looking oil lamp.
“Does it work?” I asked, eyeing the smoke stained globe. I couldn’t make out the wick. I hated how dark it was down in this basement.
“Imagine so.”
“Will you find out?” I sloshed it and heard the liquid inside.
“You got magic, light it yourself.”
I was tempted to reach out and grab him by the…arm. Hey, that’s not what I was thinking. I was going to make it a little more painful.
I narrowed my eyes and blew out a puff. The lamp flickered to life. Not bad.
“Thank you,” came from inside my head.
I stared at the wall over Quentin’s head. Sam hadn’t been there five minutes—at least that I’d known about—and I was already contemplating a long walk outside.
I was surprised Quentin didn’t hear Sam’s laughter rolling out my ears. I smiled sweetly at Quentin, who still was alternating his gaping between the fire and me. “Hey,” I told him. “When you’re good, you’re good.”
He grumbled something I couldn’t hear and went to retrieve the fur jackets from the floor.
Walking into a dark room with a pale yellow oil lamp was unnerving. I jumped at every wavering shadow or looming shape. It didn’t help that nothing had solid lines. Electricity was so much kinder to the nervous system. I couldn’t have lived in an era before modern amenities.
I thought of my stint as Annabelle. Yep, definitely glad I had been born in the twentieth century.
“Sorry I missed you as Annabelle.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I heard you ran into one of my, ahem, friends.”
“Jim? He wasn’t too friendly after all.”
“No, but Winzey’s home has dealt with tropical storms now and again. Hurricane James did minimal damage before it grounded in Cuba.”
I felt a smile. Justice felt good.
“What’s his deal? Jim’s, I mean?”
“He has his own agenda. He thinks he can take over the island and therefore rule magic. He’s desperate and careless. Bergestein will eventually take him down, I believe. Best to stay away from him.”
Brilliant plan. Now, about the reason I was here…
I glanced down at the white toilet. There was no water down here. What was in the bowl was one of those weird colors between brown and green. At least as far as I could tell with the lamp. I wasn’t getting any closer to investigate.
“I don’t suppose I have any magic to make that all better?”
Talking to yourself was one thing, I reminded myself. But this getting an answer is really making a white rubber room sound like home.
“And how do you think little Annabelle felt? I hope you weren’t fantasizing about lover boy out there while you were in her head.”
I couldn’t remember if I did or not. Now, about the toilet situation? “I can’t do this, Sam. I can’t handle a man hitchhiking around in my body.”
“How do you think I feel? I’m stuck in a woman’s body.”
“Well, this woman’s got to pee. You’re going to know exactly how it feels to piss your pants if you don’t do something about that water.”
“Point your finger,” Sam commanded.
I listened. And waited. And waited. “Well?” I finally asked.
“Toss the water outside and bring in a lump of fresh snow. I know you can do that.”
I crossed my legs and concentrated on Sam’s command. Sure enough, I had snow to pee on. Wheee. I always wanted to make yellow snow. Men always had all the fun with that.
“You are demented, Ella. Now I know why Quentin likes you.”
“You ever been in Quentin’s body?”
“No. That would scare me.”
I laughed.
“Ella?” Quentin was on the other side of the door. “What’s so funny?”
“Uh, nothing. The toilet was gross so I did a switcheroo with snow. I’m just finding it funny to finally get to make yellow snow.”
“You would.”
“Is the fire still going? It’s frigid in here.”
&n
bsp; “Yep, and I’ll warm you back up. No worry there.”
No toilet paper. Piece of cake. I pictured an empty hotel room and snatched what I needed. So someone would walk in to an unflushed toilet and no paper. It was only pee, right?
Sam was silent. I think he was in there bribing my conscience.
For Sam’s sake, I settled on sitting beside Quentin. He had his arm around my shoulders. Sam had better not say a word about it.
I would have thought someone else would have gotten bored in a place like this and left Monopoly or something behind. I needed entertainment. And sex was out of the question.
I spent an hour juggling objects, learning the “preciseness” I needed. Problem was I didn’t know if I was getting any better or if Sam was just humoring me by adding his skills. He had to be just as bored.
“Can you leave from in there?”
“Only by stepping out and then hopping.”
“What about me? Could I leave with you still…uh, attached?”
“Nope.”
“Oh.” Well, as long as he was hitching a ride, I knew he wasn’t rescuing me from this place. “Then why are you here?”
“Quentin’s up to something. He followed you from the movie set, invisible of course. I actually assumed you’d been with him the whole time. I was not very relieved to find you were with Jim, but getting to the island was a benefit. I learned immediately you were there. Those fairies have a way of making sure information gets to me.”
“I didn’t realize you were so…important.” Was that the right word?
“Lou was my father.”
“Oh.” OH! That made things real new and interesting in the world. “Are you…human, then?”
“As much as you. Lou was as well, until the body he occupied was killed by another’s magic.”
“I don’t understand. How did he live?”
“He was unable to step out before the host died. So he became a soul without a body. The body ended up in a small pond. So did my father.”
“Then what?” I leaned against the wall, my feet curled up to my chin, my arms wrapped around my legs. I closed my eyes and snuggled further into the blanket. Quentin had gone upstairs. He sounded like he was pacing up there.
“My mother followed his cries. She could find him anywhere, even if he didn’t have his gems.”
“And?” I could picture a woman standing before the pond that held the face of her husband instead of her own reflection. How devastating it would be to know he’d never be flesh and blood again.
“Yes. She was torn with grief. She dove in, planning, I am told, to take her own life to remain forever with my father. He, of course, didn’t let her. He tossed her, and his gems, ashore.”
“Oh!”
“You wear the gems of my mother.”
I disengaged my hand and touched the necklace. It responded with a warm pulsation. “Did she leave then?”
“Yes and no. She found a large bucket and scooped up the water, insisting Lou should fill it. He did, never expecting she would transport him to the magical island, the one you saw. In hopes of bringing him back, she poured him over the waterfall. As he spilled into the rainbow waters, the fairies chanted, ‘Free the gems, free the gems’.”
Sam cleared his throat. My throat. I felt the tears at the corners of my eyes. The next part of the story was sad. “My mother would not release the gems. She carried her own, as well as my father’s.”
“Why?”
“What else is there, except power?”
I could feel the thundering of the waterfall as my blood coursed through my body. I could hear it, feel its vibrations, and smell its fresh tang. But on that day, I knew it hadn’t been calm and sweet. It had raged with the anger of a man betrayed.
“Yes. That’s exactly how he felt. You get that from the gems, as well as my story. Your gifts are strong, Ella. Use them well.”
I nodded. The gems pounded the rhythm of the water against the flesh of my neck. “What happened?”
“She gripped the gems and tried to flee the edge of the falls. They say a hand, larger than life, and the power of pure water snatched her before she could hop. She plunged to the bottom of the waterfall.”
I caught my breath. That sounded violent. “It was violent. Perhaps before Lou had done that, the king of the fairies would have granted him wholeness. His punishment was to be cursed to the water forever. But my mother, she died, taking all four gems to the bottom.”
“How did you get them?”
“I expected you to ask where I was during all this.”
I hadn’t thought about it. Surely Sam had been born.
“Yes, born and nearly grown. And oblivious to all that was magic. To me, my father had gotten killed and my mother was vacationing in the Caribbean. Everyone thought she was taking the first steps to reclaiming her life.”
“She never came back.”
“No. It was just a few years later that I went to the scene of the accident that killed my father. You can imagine how shocked I was when I heard his voice from the lake.”
“Lake? I thought she got him out?”
“Not all. He exists in two places. Obviously the island is where he is strongest.”
My head didn’t comprehend this well. I pressed my eye sockets into the points of my knees until tiny white spots glittered like the stars on a clear night. I’d never been stoned in my life, but I think I needed something to understand all this. Exist in two places? Talk about a split personality.
“Ella!”
“Sorry, Sam, I guess I tend to joke when I can’t react in any other way. It’s a tragic story. And I know exactly what you mean about being bugged out. You continue to do it to me.”
I heard footsteps on the stairs. Damn! I wanted to know how Sam had reacted and then found the island. But he had. That was important. I wondered if the gems Quentin wore were Sam’s father’s.
“Yes.”
I didn’t reply. Quentin was in the room.
He’d said Quentin was up to something. “Hey.” I squinted up at the lamp he carried. “What’re you up to?”
He handed me a plate. “Food. I thought cooking was supposed to be the chick’s job.”
“And lighting fire is the man’s.”
One eyebrow disappeared beneath the brown fringe, but he remained silent.
He didn’t flirt. In fact, he barely talked at all while we ate. I wondered if he knew.
“Quentin,” my voice cracked. Shit. I cleared my throat. “Quentin. You seem distracted. Something wrong?”
“Distracted? Is that really an Ella word?”
I rolled my eyes to check for an answer on the ceiling. Nope. No dunce cap ready to fall into place. “What other words would I have used?”
“I could see something like, ‘Quentin, you’ve got your head in the clouds’ or, I don’t know. Distracted seems too sophisticated for you.”
I just knew he knew. “Who does it sound like?”
He dropped his fork to his plate. “An English professor I once had. Constantly accused me of the exact thing.” He picked up my plate from my lap with one hand and knocked on my forehead with the other. “Hello, Mr. Casey, are you in there?”
I blinked innocently and rubbed where his knuckles had hit. “Ow! Just me. Lots of empty space, yes. But just me.”
He growled, low in his throat. For a split second I thought he saw right through my little white lie. But then he pressed his lips to mine. Surprise hit me like a bolt of lightning. I struggled to step back, but my balance was unsteady. I had no choice, I had to grab his shoulders. Quentin took it as encouragement.
In the cold room, his lips were white hot coals against my mouth, face and neck. I leaned, only a little bit, into him. And my fingernails nearly tore into his shirt.
I slid back a little, not because of me, I was sure. I had a feeling Sam hadn’t dozed off. And he wasn’t keen on kissing another man.
That did it. I broke away contact with a heaving breath. I knew i
t was just a kiss, but what it promised had me steaming under the collar already.
Quentin dropped a kiss on the tip of my nose and went upstairs. I still thought he knew.
“He hasn’t a clue.”
“How would you know?” I demanded to the inner voice that had a name, and a big attitude.
“I tuned in. You don’t bother to. He knows you don’t. But he has no clue about me, yet. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Except the kissing part. Yuck.”
“I figured you’d say that. What am I supposed to tell him when I wasn’t quite so hesitant this morning?”
“Leave it up to me.”
The hell I would. I unwrapped the bandages on my hand, wondering how bad the blisters looked now. I hadn’t felt pain in a long time. Probably numbness from this place. Even with the fire, it couldn’t have reached more than fifty degrees in here. It’d be nice if there was a fireplace on every wall.
“I fixed those for you.” Sam’s voice startled me into dropping the white gauze on the floor. But sure enough, my fingers looked as good as new.
“How—”
“Don’t ask. There’s a sacrifice involved.”
Ugh. I didn’t want to know. If Sam took it upon himself, then I certainly hoped it would have healed by the time he reclaimed his physical self.
“I just get to keep the scars.”
“Forever?”
“As long as I live.”
That sounded drastic. “Why, Sam? Why would you do that?”
“You’ll need your hands, your wits and every ounce of your power before this is over.”
“What is over?”
“The Magic Wars.”
Chapter Eleven
It didn’t matter that I begged, pleaded, promised him a hot fudge brownie sundae with a cherry on top. Quentin would not let me go upstairs. “Why?” I asked, hands on hips, blocking the doorway.
“Because.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“You sound like you needed more mothering.”
“This constant nitpicking is making me feel like I’m living with my brother.” I was bored. Stir-crazy. Had a very serious case of cabin fever and he was not helping by confining me underground.
“You have a brother? And you do…” He waved his hand around toward the blanket in front of the fire.
Believe the Magic Page 13
