Hidden Magic: A Ley Line World Urban Fantasy Adventure (Relic Guardians Book 2)

by Victoria DeLuis

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Thank you for your help. If I need anything, I’ll call the museum as you suggested. Please, forgive my intrusion and enjoy the rest of your holiday.” With that, I ended the call.

  My heart pounded and my head swam. Magic couldn’t be real. Could it?

  I paced the room. My gaze was drawn over and over to the statue. Its eyes followed me wherever I went. I couldn't think. My head was a jumble. Something about that statue made me crazy.

  I moved into the bathroom and splashed water on my face. It was cooler in there and I could breathe again. I looked at my reflection in the mirror above the washbasin. The same face as always with brown hair and brown eyes looked back at me. I didn't look crazy, but I did look tired.

  That’s it! I was tired. That made perfect sense.

  It was almost ten o’clock. I'd been awake since four thirty in the morning, and the day before that, I’d spent travelling from London to New York. I’d had only four hours of sleep in the last forty-eight. It was a miracle I wasn’t hallucinating.

  Feeling foolish, I splashed some more water on my face and resolved to get some rest, but as soon as I left the bathroom, the Buddha statue caught my eye and my heart sank. How could I sleep when I'd stolen a valuable artefact? I'm pretty certain the ‘tired’ excuse wouldn't cut it in a court of law.

  Chapter Five

  The noise from the hotel restaurant filtered through the corridors as I edged downstairs. Not knowing what else to do, I called Ben. He'd answered his phone on the first ring and agreed to meet me.

  I rubbed at my aching head. Mock conversations played over and over in my mind, but none sounded reasonable. I guess there was no good way to say, 'Hi, I stole a statue and now need your help to return it. Fancy becoming an accessory after the fact?' At least, there was none I could think of.

  All too soon, I entered the restaurant. People, and their determined revelry filled the large space, creating a busy hum that echoed in my mind. The churning in my stomach increased as I scanned the room, searching for Ben's table. A few people turned their attention towards me. They couldn't possibly know what I'd done, but I saw suspicion in their eyes.

  After a moment, I spotted Ben in the corner. He was sitting at a table with a bottle of red wine and two empty glasses, so I straightened my hair and clothes and pushed my shoulders back. I could do this. All I had to do was walk over and tell him what happened. He would understand and help. He had to. I didn't have anywhere else to turn.

  For the second time that night, I found myself silently wishing Nathan wasn't in the Amazon. If there was one person I knew who could get me out of this mess, it was my old university buddy. He was resilient, confident, and just about the cleverest person I ever met, but more than that, he was my friend, and boy, did I need a friend right now.

  Trying to look as confident as I could, I sat down opposite Ben and smiled.

  "What happened?" he asked before I had the chance to say anything. "You look like hell."

  Not exactly the words a woman likes to hear from a good-looking man in a restaurant, but on this occasion, I assumed he was right. No wonder I'd been getting funny looks from the other patrons.

  "It's bad, isn't it?" he said. "Is something missing from the shipment? Is something broken? Am I fired?"

  "No, no," I said, placing my hand on Ben's. "It's nothing you've done."

  "Then why do you look like you just killed a puppy."

  I sighed. "It's silly, really. Just a big misunderstanding." I tried to look Ben in the eye but couldn't. Instead, I focused on my hands, fidgeting with a mat on top of the table.

  This time, it was Ben who placed his hand on mine. "Whatever it is, you can tell me," he said. "I was joking about the puppy thing. Nothing could be that bad."

  "No." I shook my head and smiled. "Nothing that bad."

  I raised my eyes and looked at Ben. His own shone with concern, and before I knew it, the words were tumbling from my mouth. "I took a Buddha statue from the museum," I said. "It was such a stupid thing to do. I don't even know why I did it. Not really... I was tired. Mr Davenport, the man from earlier, was there. I heard him on the phone and I had the statue, and I panicked. I just had to get out of there, so I took it."

  "Okay, okay," Ben said. "Slow down."

  “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

  He poured the red wine and handed me a glass. The heady scent of the Cabernet Sauvignon dizzied my senses and dried my mouth when I took a sip, but I felt marginally better.

  "Now, start from the beginning," Ben said. "You took a statue."

  I sighed. "Yes. I found a statue of Buddha in the crates. An amazing find. It could really be the showpiece for the gala on Friday."

  "Okay, well, that's great news. Now get to the part where you took it, and how is Mr Davenport involved?"

  I told him everything: how I had overheard Sebastian Davenport on the telephone in Doctor Naidoo's office telling someone to kill the locals so he could find his stone, how I suspected the stone was inside the statue, how Wikipedia described it. The only parts I left out were my telephone conversation with Zoe Stark, the strange feeling that the statue was calling to me, and details of the nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me magic was real. There was no need to look crazier than I already did.

  "Okay," Ben said as soon as I finished my story. "Where is the statue now?"

  "I left it in my room."

  "Then it's safe."

  I nodded. I'd had the foresight to put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on my door when I first arrived, so there was no reason for anyone to enter.

  "Then everything will be fine. Now, nobody knows you found the statue, let alone took it. We will just take it back to work with us in the morning, and it will be like nothing happened."

  "But what about the Cintamani Stone? Do you think it could be in the statue?"

  Ben shook his head. "Who knows if anything is in the statue?"

  "And Mr Davenport?"

  "I'm sure there's no need to worry on that front. Some people just express themselves heatedly. I'm sure Mr Davenport has no intention of killing anyone. And if he does, then surely the best thing we can do is help him find the stone so he doesn't see a need to."

  I nodded in agreement, but doubt circled my mind. If the stone was magical, did I really want someone like Sebastian Davenport getting his hands on it?

  "Now, I know you're tired, but what do you say to a bite to eat and a bit more wine before you get some rest? This Cabernet begs to be savoured with food."

  I looked around the restaurant at everyone enjoying their drinks and food and realised I'd only eaten a bagel all day. Some food wouldn’t go amiss, and Ben's company couldn't hurt either.

  ~

  Ben topped up our wine glasses and we ordered a late dinner. He'd done wonders in easing my worries, although the bottle of wine helped, too. His easy manner was infectious and comforting. We would take the statue back tomorrow and no one would be any the wiser. As for Sebastian Davenport, he was only a problem if I believed in magic, and right at that moment in time, I really didn’t want to believe in magic.

  More and more, I caught Ben looking at me as we ate our meals and enjoyed small talk. He would avert his eyes quickly, straighten his collar, or push a morsel of food around his plate, but every time his eyes caught mine, my cheeks burned and I couldn't help but be conscious of his previous comment on how hellish I looked.

  "So, what's your story?" Ben asked after a while.

  "My story?"

  "Yeah. I've been working at the museum for months now and we'll be working in New York for another week or so, and I don’t know the first thing about you. It would be nice to learn a few things."

  "Like what?" I asked, hoping that Ben was right and I'd still be working for the museum tomorrow, let alone in a week or so. At least for now, I could pretend everything was okay and the threat of incarceration wasn't hanging over my head.

  "Like where you're from. Most of the time you speak in Stan
dard English, with no trace of an accent. It's very hard to pin down your origins. But earlier, when you were worried, something slipped through."

  "It did?" I took a large swig of wine.

  "Yeah, there was a definite melodious lilt to your accent. One I can't quite place."

  I laughed. "You can thank my Welsh roots for that. I'm originally from South Wales, and my parents were both Welsh. We moved to London when I was nine."

  "That must have been a culture shock."

  "Not really. Aside from having to make new friends, school was much the same. I guess the main difference was the accent, and that soon changed. Not consciously, of course. I'm very proud of being Welsh." I smiled. "Although, one difference that felt strange was England's patriarchal society. Wales has more of a matriarchal society and people found it a bit weird that Mam was in charge of the purse strings, but, other than that, people are still people."

  "I never knew that about Wales." Ben took a bite of his steak before continuing. "The matriarchal society thing, I mean."

  "Most people don't, but if you spend any time there, you'll soon learn that Mam's the boss."

  Ben raised his eyebrows at me. "Does that mean you're predisposed to being in charge?"

  I laughed again. "In my experience, most women are predisposed to being in charge. They just let men think it's the other way around."

  Ben chuckled and shook his head. "I think that pretty much sums up my experience, too." His eyes swept over me. "Although, I'll bet it comes easier to a girl like you."

  "A girl like me?"

  "Yeah, beautiful, rich, privileged. I'm sure you're used to men doing exactly what you ask of them."

  I raised my eyebrows. "Beautiful? Earlier you said I looked like hell."

  "That was when you had the whole deer-in-headlights look going on, and even then, you were still beautiful." He waved his fork around the restaurant. "There's not a guy in here who hasn't checked you out."

  For a moment, I looked down, embarrassed, my cheeks flushed with heat, but then the implied insult in his other words registered.

  "Well, be that as it may," I said, suddenly bristling. "But I’m neither rich nor privileged. I've worked for everything I have. We moved to London because my parents’ house was repossessed and an old army friend of my dad’s was able to rent us a studio flat for a reasonable rate. I had a paper round at age eleven, and I’ve worked my entire life since that time. Even through my time as a student at Cambridge, I held down a thirty-hour-a-week job, tending bars and waiting tables. I am privileged, but not in the sense you mean. I had great parents who instilled in me a sense of hard work and the belief I can achieve anything I set my mind to. That no matter how low you sink, you can fight your way back up again, and I am extremely proud of that privilege."

  Ben’s face sobered. For a moment, I saw a flash of anger in his eyes, but it was wiped away in an instant and he held his hands up in mock surrender. "Sorry. I stand corrected. I really didn’t mean to cause any offense."

  I looked at his face, searching for any lingering trace of anger, but only saw the honest regret in his eyes.

  "No." I sighed and shook my head. "I'm the one that's sorry. You're right, you don't know the first thing about me, and yet you're still willing to help me with the statue. I'm just tired and being oversensitive."

  I'd been foolish to think I could carry on as though nothing had happened. Sebastian Davenport was still a dangerous man, and try as I had to convince myself otherwise, Zoe Stark believed in magic.

  I looked at the pasta in front of me and pushed it away, my appetite lost. "Maybe, I should call it a night," I said and stood to leave.

  Ben stood with me. "I'll walk you to your room," he said. "I'd hate to think I drove you away by my careless words."

  Ben paid the bill and we left the restaurant, an uneasy silence between us.

  "What about you?" I asked to break the tension as we walked through the lobby. "What's your story?"

  "I don't have much of a story. I'm a Londoner — born and raised. Although, most of that raising took place in and out of different foster homes."

  "Oh, I'm sorry," I said, feeling even more foolish over my privileged outburst.

  "No need to be sorry. I'm a happy man with a good life, even if I don't have anyone to share it with."

  I nodded in understanding. A brief image of my parents driving me to university flashed in my mind. They were so happy, so full of pride in everything I'd achieved. They had kissed me and held me close. They should never have let go, but they did, and that was the last time I saw them alive.

  Ben reached over and squeezed my hand. "You okay?" he asked. "I hope you're not still fretting about the statue. Everything will be fine, I promise."

  I wasn’t okay, but I smiled anyway. Ben looked at me with his big blue eyes and smiled back. My stomach fluttered and my heart pounded so hard, I was sure he could hear it when we entered the elevator.

  "How did you end up working for the museum?" I asked to cover my fluster.

  "Typical story, really: rambunctious kid grows up seeking adventure, winds up searching for treasure in the only place he can. One day, soon enough, I'll be working on a dig in Tibet myself and not just cataloguing some other guy's find."

  "Ah," I said with a knowing smile plastered on my face. "You're one of those guys."

  "Those guys?" He queried, as I turned his 'girl like you' statement back on him.

  "Yeah, the ones with the Indiana Jones complex, seeking fortune and glory."

  "Fortune and glory sound pretty good to me."

  We stood facing each other for countless seconds. Ben's eyes locked with my own. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, and, unconsciously, I swayed towards him. The sweet scent of his cologne filled the space between us, and it felt as though the world outside the rumbling elevator no longer existed.

  "And what do you seek, Hayley?" Ben asked. "Not fortune and glory, I take it? Tell me, if Mr Davenport knocked on your door this evening and offered you a million dollars for the statue, would you take it?"

  I shook my head. "The statue belongs to the people of Tibet. It should be catalogued, studied, and returned to benefit the people it belongs to."

  "You really believe that?"

  Ben leaned closer, his face a hair's breadth from mine. My mouth was dry and I had to lick my lips to speak. Before I could answer, Ben sealed my mouth with his own, and all thought left my head. His lips were soft, teasing, and all I wanted was for him to kiss me deeper. Instead, he pulled away.

  "What about wishes?" he asked, his voice a whispered caress in my ear. "If you had the stone, and it had the power to grant wishes, what would you wish for?"

  "You mean besides world peace and an end to suffering?"

  Ben chuckled and kissed me again.

  Wishes were for the desperate, and fools who wanted more than they could work for. Right at that moment, I had everything I wanted and more.

  Ben pushed me against the mirrored wall and trailed his fingers down my back. His hot breath sent fire through my sensitive skin. "I have everything I could wish for right here," he said, his words mirroring my thoughts.

  A moment later, the elevator doors pinged open and our illusion of solitude was shattered by the presence of a group of college boys. "Going down?" One of the men queried, much to the mirth of his friends.

  Ben clasped my hand and stepped out of the elevator with me in tow. "You have a good night, fellas," he said as we stepped passed the men.

  "Hopefully, it'll be as good as yours, dude."

  The elevator door closed with the college boys inside, and I burst out laughing. "Well, that was slightly embarrassing," I said.

  "Could have been worse." The light in Ben's eyes told me exactly what he meant.

  I didn't know what I was thinking. I wasn't the sort of woman to kiss on the first date, and certainly not in an elevator, and this wasn't even a date.

  I cleared my throat and gave Ben a final, lingering good night kis
s. "I'll see you in the morning," I said.

  "In the morning," he agreed, although there was a sad look in his eyes.

  Chapter Six

  I felt like I'd only been asleep a few minutes when I awoke with a start. I’d had the strangest dreams about lights falling from the sky and my parents walking me down the aisle. I snuggled beneath the cover, but a pervading sense of danger filled the room. At first, I cursed my overactive imagination, but I lay still and listened for any out-of-place noise. My heart raced and I held my breath.

  The night wind battered the window, and I wondered if the building storm had woken me. I blinked, trying to force my eyes to focus, and peered from beneath the bed covers. My gaze was drawn to the table where the statue still rested. Its wise face overlooked a grey room, bleached of colour by the night sky. Memories of the day's events stirred in my mind and I wanted to curl in a ball and smother the dread building inside me with slumber.

  Then, from outside the room, a commotion of jumbled voices filtered along the corridor and through my door. I listened hard, unable to filter one voice from the next and discern any words, yet the overwhelming sense of danger clouded my mind and made the air thick with a tension that turned my skin clammy and caused my head to ache.

  Something was wrong.

  After a moment, I scrambled out of bed and put my dressing gown on, determined not to hide under the covers like a frightened kid scared of the bogeyman. As I turned on the light, I had the impression that the statue wanted me to smash it, to free whatever was inside and escape. Every instinct told me it was the right thing to do. The Cintamani Stone was hidden in its hollow depths and it had the power to save me — I didn't know what it needed to save me from, just that it could — but my rational mind wouldn't accept there was magic in the world; that this crazy instinct was right.

  How many times as a child had I wished for super-powers? How many times had I wished for my parents back, for their car crash to never have happened? If magic were real, why didn't it show itself then, when I truly needed it?

  I shook my head, feeling crazier than ever, and edged towards the bathroom.