Hot Magic

by Catherine Kean

  Brigitte screamed again.

  Resolve burned in the knight’s blood as he staggered to his feet. He would save his betrothed. He’d die if he had to, to save her.

  Palms up, Agnes focused on his lady love, crouched behind the squire. Brigitte was trying to draw a dead man’s dagger.

  As Galahad attacked the sorceress from the front, Chadwick ran at her from the side.

  Hit by bolts of light, the squire screamed in agony and collapsed. The knight brought his sword down in a deadly arc. Spinning to face him, Agnes shot more light, but at the last instant, he tilted his sword. The light bounced off the weapon and plowed into her.

  She jolted and fell to the ground.

  “Beware,” Brigitte cried.

  “Aye.” He stood over Agnes. Both hands on the hilt of his sword, he pointed it downward, between her breasts. One firm thrust, and he’d pierce her heart.

  Fingers curled into the grass, she glared up at him. “You cannot kill me.”

  “Is that so?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I rule these lands. I can and will slay you.”

  Agnes’s eyes narrowed. “Try, and I will curse you.”

  He ignored a flare of misgiving. “Yield. Refuse, and I will end your life.”

  Firelight glinted on her right bracelet. She was raising her hand to shoot fire.

  He shoved the sword down.

  “I curse you.” Her voice caught, turned shrill. “You, your squire, your bloodline—”

  Bone snapped. Blood spattered.

  “—damned…together…forever.”

  A gurgling sound came out of her mouth.

  Agnes twitched several times then went still.

  He inhaled a deep breath and drew his sword free of her corpse. As he did so, bright light rushed out of her chest and momentarily blinded him.

  As the light faded, he shook his head to clear his vision.

  Brigitte stood close by, holding the dagger. Her clothes were scorched, and she no doubt had more burns than the ones on her arms. Her frantic gaze shifted from the sorceress to him. “Are you well?”

  “I am.” He yearned to pull Brigitte into his arms, to calm her and be absolutely sure she was all right, but he couldn’t yet. He must deal with Agnes’s body first. Then, the danger would be over.

  “The light that broke from her.” Brigitte trembled. “The curse—”

  “Forget them. Never mention them again.”

  Her bottom lip quivered. “But—”

  “No. ’Tis not safe to speak of such things. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  He sheathed his sword then leaned over the sorceress’s corpse. Her bracelets were engraved with symbols he’d seen at ancient sites while he was on Crusade in Eastern lands. He reached to take the bracelets—the gold would fetch a good price—but a chill washed over his skin. He wanted naught to do with the evil bitch.

  He picked up Agnes’s body, strode to the blazing pyre, and threw her into the inferno. His shoulders lowered on a sigh of relief.

  He wiped his hands on the grass and crossed to Brigitte. She ignored his bloodied garments and sank into his embrace. As he held her, gently kissed her hair that smelled of smoke, she wept against his shoulder.

  Close by, a cat meowed.

  “Milord,” said the squire.

  Chadwick stilled and drew his betrothed to arm’s length. As he brushed tears from her cheeks, he asked, “Are you all right, squire?”

  “I…am not.”

  Brigitte frowned. “Do you hear a cat?”

  The knight’s stare locked with the gaze of a ginger-colored feline standing where Galahad had fallen.

  “Milord,” the cat meowed. “The curse… ’Tis real.”

  The vision faded as a weight slumped on Lucian’s chest. He opened his eyes to see Galahad, his eyes sliding shut, his head lolling.

  Concern whipped through Lucian as he removed the collar and sat up, his right arm going around the cat. “Galahad?”

  The squire’s eyes opened a crack. They were no longer light gold, but their usual color. “Feel…weak.”

  “Let’s get you a snack.” Lucian carried the feline to the kitchen, set him down, and opened a can of duck dinner. “There you go.”

  The cat ate slowly. Lucian sat next to him to keep an eye on him.

  His back against a kitchen cabinet, Lucian tried to make sense of what he’d seen. The vision he’d experienced in Molly’s bedroom had clearly been a mental snapshot connected to the longer flashback he’d just experienced.

  As a twelfth-century knight, he hadn’t known what to call the symbols on the sorceress’s bracelets. Modern-day Lucian knew, though: they were hieroglyphics.

  When Agnes had died, her life force had somehow merged with the Ancient Egyptian bracelets, which someone—the peddler, perhaps?—had salvaged from the fire’s ashes. The gold, infused with dark magic, had been melted down to make the necklace for the nobleman’s wife.

  Trying to destroy the necklace had caused the four witches to be turned into cats. Those cats had become Molly’s mother’s felines.

  So, Molly’s late mother’s pets had been cursed by the same Magical as Lucian.

  And Molly…. She’d also been affected by the same magic, although Lucian had resolved that problem by locking up the necklace.

  How many other lives had the dark power influenced?

  Why, also, did he still not have an explanation for what he’d seen in Molly’s eyes?

  Lucian dragged his hand over his jaw. Then, still sitting on the floor, he called Julius. When he got forwarded to voice mail, Lucian hung up and reviewed the three files Julius had emailed before calling his superior again. “I really need to speak to you,” he growled before hanging up.

  Then, he phoned Molly. He might wake her, but he needed to check in with her. When that call also went to voice mail, he left a message for her to phone him as soon as possible.

  Galahad meowed at his empty plate. “Need…more.”

  Lucian spooned out a second can of duck dinner, left the cat to eat, and returned the collar to the antique store. When he walked back to the kitchen, the feline straightened away from his food dish.

  “Ready for can number three?” Lucian asked.

  “Nah.” Galahad licked his lips. “I’m going to nap now. Tell me what you saw tomorrow, okay?”

  “I will.”

  After Galahad curled up on the chair and fell asleep, Lucian went to bed. He left his phone on and put it on the nightstand before turning off the light.

  Sleep, though, eluded him. His mind racing, his hands behind his head on the pillow, he stared up at the shadowed ceiling. His gut instincts warned him there could well be consequences of his actions today that he’d never anticipated—just like when he’d confronted the sorceress centuries ago.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Wake up.

  With a sigh, Molly ignored the whisper in her mind and snuggled deeper into her bedding. No reason why she couldn’t spend five more minutes in bed. She was warm, cozy, had slept really well—

  Wake up.

  Eyes still closed, Molly frowned. The voice had been louder this time. It was definitely inside her head, not someone in the room speaking to her. She’d heard the same voice over the past few days, but it had mostly been interwoven with her thoughts, not independent and demanding.

  What was happening now was…weird.

  Get up. Now.

  Suddenly feeling too hot—also weird, since she’d been comfortable until a second ago—Molly opened her eyes to see the sunlit bedroom. Memories of the previous night raced back to her, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she remembered leading Lucian into the room, him pushing her down on the bed. How she’d wanted him—

  Find the necklace.

  Molly sat up, the bedding sliding down to bunch at her waist, and glanced at the clock on the bedside table: 8:34 AM. Not only had she slept a bit later than usual, but she was still wearing her sk
irt and top from last night. Why hadn’t she changed into her pajamas? Had she washed her face and brushed her teeth? She couldn’t remember doing those things, and she never skipped them before bed.

  Sweat beaded on Molly’s brow as her hand, as though guided by someone else, reached up and touched her throat, confirming the necklace wasn’t there.

  What was happening to her? First, though, she’d better go and pee—

  No. Find the necklace.

  The words were accompanied by another hot flash and a flare of determination. Gripped by panic, Molly glanced about the room, looking for the jewel. What she wanted to do was go to the bathroom. What she actually did was look for the necklace…as though someone else was controlling her actions.

  Yes.

  “Yes?” Molly squeaked.

  You and I are one now.

  Molly shook her head. Could she be dreaming?

  No. What she was experiencing felt too real to be a dream. “Who are you?” she asked. “What do you want from me?”

  I want what’s best for both of us. Get up. Look for the necklace.

  Molly struggled not to obey. Her hand, clutching the bedding to draw it aside, shook as she willed herself to remain still.

  I am far stronger than you. You can’t resist me.

  “I don’t want you in my head!” Molly had to get help, but who could she talk to? Hers wasn’t a normal problem, and it hadn’t affected her until today.

  Had something happened during Lucian’s visit last night?

  Lucian is the reason I am here.

  “He is? Why—?”

  I gave you the chance to obey me.

  An orange-yellow haze clouded Molly’s vision. Heat, like molten flames, shot through her veins. She gasped at the shocking pain. As a shriek burned in her throat, the agony cooled, as though the fire within her had burned down to embers.

  The awful heat could rekindle at any time, though. So could the pain.

  Now. Look for the necklace.

  Molly wanted to disobey, but she couldn’t bear to be in agony again. Trembling, she pulled back the bedding, slid her legs over the side of the bed, and went to the dresser where she’d left the box yesterday. Her phone was there, but the box wasn’t. Maybe she’d put it away?

  She searched the dresser, the room, and her bathroom, but the box and necklace weren’t to be found.

  Damn Lucian! He stole them.

  “I did what you asked.” Molly couldn’t keep her voice from wavering. She mentally calculated how many seconds it would take to reach her phone, dial Lucian, and beg for help. She’d risk more pain—

  You’ll call Lucian when I say you can.

  This couldn’t be happening! But, when she tried to run to the dresser, her body wouldn’t move. The fiery punishment returned.

  “Let me go,” Molly screamed.

  Not until I have what I want. Get dressed. We’re going to pay Lucian a visit.

  “I’ll pose as a collector of antique jewelry.” A ticking noise—a car’s turn signal—sounded in the background of Julius’s phone call. “I’ve brought credentials.”

  “You’ll need them. Molly’s not easily fooled,” Lucian said while pouring himself a mug of just-brewed coffee.

  “One of my assistants has updated the website on my business card and made sure there are breadcrumbs on the internet. Molly will have no reason to suspect I’m not who I say I am.”

  After sipping the stronger-than-usual java, Lucian glanced at the clock on the apartment’s stove: 8:29 AM. If Molly wasn’t already awake, she would be soon.

  “Any word from her?” Julius asked.

  “No.” Lucian fought not to yawn. “I’ve called three times and left messages. She might still be sleeping.” After being awake most of the night, Lucian would love to still be abed himself, but he had to run the shop—thus the strong coffee.

  “Molly might be ignoring you.”

  Regret twisted Lucian’s gut. “I know.” He hated to think of Molly being angry with him.

  “No matter. Once I reach Cat’s Paw Cove, we’ll take care of the situation and give her a generous payout,” the older man said. “We can also use magic to alter her memories.”

  “I don’t want to do that.”

  The distant honk of a car horn sounded on the line.

  “With the necklace locked up and the dark magic contained, Molly will never be influenced by magic again,” Lucian insisted. He bent down to pat Galahad who, thankfully, had suffered no lasting effects from using the collar.

  “Let’s see how things go when we visit Molly later today.” The turn signal clicked again. “For now, stay at the store. Guard the necklace—”

  The dark magic alarm sounded.

  Galahad yowled. “It’s only…what time?”

  “8:34.” Lucian skimmed the data on his phone.

  “Similar signatures to before,” Julius noted.

  “Now it’s…a Category Four,” Lucian said.

  “What?” The squire’s mouth gaped.

  Dread gnawed as Lucian set his mug on the closest counter. “It doesn’t make sense. The necklace is locked away.”

  “Are you sure?” the older man asked. “It was secure last night. This morning?”

  Lucian swore under his breath. He hadn’t been down to the store yet. “I’ll check.”

  “Do that. Report back.”

  Lucian downed the rest of his coffee. He raced for the apartment door, swung back to snatch up the sword he’d taken to Molly’s, and then hurried to the shop.

  A riot of sounds greeted him.

  The Steiff teddy bear growled.

  The desiccated finger was tapping in its box: Morse Code for SOS.

  The wooden box containing Molly’s necklace was still shelved and protected by magical locks—just as he’d left it yesterday evening.

  “Is what’s happening my fault?” Galahad meowed. “Because I used the collar?”

  “I don’t think so.” With the cat running alongside him, Lucian went into the back room to view the latest readouts. While the data was similar to what he’d tracked to the necklace in Molly’s late mother’s home, he noted new elements.

  He hadn’t contained the corrupt power when he’d secured the necklace.

  The magic had evolved.

  Molly wasn’t free of it after all. Was that why he’d seen the spark in her eyes?

  Oh, hell

  According to the data, the dark energy was on the move; heading for the town.

  Lucian went back out into the main room, unsheathed the sword to lean it against the back of the counter, and reinforced the protections around the shop. Whatever happened within the next few minutes, Molly mustn’t be harmed. For his grandfather’s sake, Lucian also must minimize damage to the shop and its antiques.

  Perhaps, if he was lucky, he’d be able to use his quick thinking and charm to defuse the situation. He’d start with diplomacy, at least.

  Molly’s car screeched to a stop outside. She got out, slamming the door behind her. As she rounded the front of the vehicle and headed for the shop, Lucian’s throat went dry.

  She looked incredible: snug black top, black jeans, black heels that made her legs look long and sleek. She’d left her hair loose, and it drifted on the morning breeze.

  While the woman approaching the door was definitely Molly, he saw no warmth or sweetness in her expression. This woman had been wronged. Bitterness defined the set of her mouth.

  The shop didn’t open until nine o’clock, but Lucian didn’t want their conversation to take place on the street, where passersby might overhear. He started for the front door, to let her in, but with a flick of her hand, Molly threw the locks. The door flew inward. She walked through the magical barriers as though they weren’t even there and entered the shop.

  Misgiving settled inside him like a block of ice.

  He caught a hint of her perfume and…darkness. It swirled around her like an invisible cloak.

  Yet, the energy wasn’t extrane
ous, like a garment she could take off and set aside. It had become part of her.

  Oh, Molly.

  The finger continued to tap out SOS. Indeed, every antique in the special collection was reacting to Molly’s s powers.

  Lucian cast another, stronger spell to lock the front door and turn the sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed.’ He also cast a glamour across the front of the shop. To people walking past, the interior would appear blurry, the objects within indistinct enough to avoid stirring interest or suspicion.

  Molly’s head turned slightly, an acknowledgement of his spells. When he stepped back behind the counter, closer to his sword, her gaze locked with his.

  “Good morning—”

  “Where is it?”

  Not even a ‘hello.’

  “Where’s my necklace?”

  Lucian braced his hands on the counter’s edge. He and Molly had kissed last night, almost made love, but he saw no hint of affection in her eyes now, only rage. He silently cast a spell on her car; she wasn’t going anywhere until he’d resolved what was going on with her.

  She stopped in the middle of the store and set her hands on her hips—a posture that warned she was prepared to fight. “Give me the jewel.”

  He raised his hands, palm up. “I get that you’re upset.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “If you let me explain—”

  “No. I want the necklace.”

  Orange-red light flickered in her eyes: a stronger spark than he’d seen last night.

  “Lucian,” Galahad growled.

  “I saw it.” Lucian didn’t break Molly’s stare. His mind, though, raced. “Tell me, does Molly want the necklace? Or do you, the Magical who has taken over her body?”

  A humorless smile curved Molly’s lips. Her gaze found the plain wooden box. “You should have just handed it over.”

  She raised her arms, holding them away from her sides.

  A cry of warning flared in Lucian’s mind. He instinctively reached for his sword.

  With the sound of scrabbling claws, Galahad ran behind the counter.

  A fiery bolt shot from Molly’s right palm. Bang-hiss. The bolt left a sizzling, smoking hole in the wall behind Lucian. An etched Victorian mirror, which he’d put up yesterday, fell and shattered on the floor.