“I will ask one last time. Hand over the necklace.”
“Ask as many times as you like,” Lucian said. “You’ll get the same answer: No.”
Before the last word had left his lips, she fired another bolt.
Bang-hiss.
Bang-hiss, bang-hiss.
Plates smashed. Stemware shattered. Shards of porcelain and glass landed on Lucian’s head and rained onto the floor.
As another stream of fire shot toward Lucian, he swung his blade. The bolt hit his sword and rebounded toward Molly.
She darted sideways. The bolt slammed into a carved chair and knocked it backward into a table.
“She’s going to destroy the store,” Galahad meowed.
“Not if I can help it.”
“Want me to distract her?”
“Not yet,” Lucian said. “I’d like to try to stop her attack.”
“How? You can’t just ask her to quit.”
“Can’t I?” Lucian held Molly’s flickering, furious stare. “Can we not resolve this in a civilized manner? If you’d hold off attacking—”
She lobbed another bolt. Lucian ducked, but caught the crackle and stench of singed hair.
He straightened, fighting anger. “Think about Molly,” he said to her.
“I have.”
“You’re willing to risk injuring her?”
A rough laugh broke from her. “Are you?” Fire gathered in her palms as she pouted. “If she’s hurt, Lucian, it will all be your fault.”
“No, it will be yours.”
She shot the fire toward him. Swinging his sword, he sent the blazing bolts racing back toward her. She tried to dodge, but her right heel caught in the rug on which she stood. With a shriek, she pitched sideways.
Lucian saw her falling toward an iron-bound wooden trunk. He cried out in warning, but she couldn’t stop her fall. Her head hit the trunk, and she crumpled on the floor.
“Molly!” He raced out from behind the counter.
“Beware,” Galahad howled. “It could be a trick.”
Lucian’s grip tightened on his sword as, angling the blade away from her, he knelt at her side. When he gently rolled her onto her back, she moaned.
Her eyes fluttered open. They were blue and held no trace of fire.
“Lucian.” He heard fear in her whispered voice.
“Are you hurt?”
“Not important.”
“Of course it’s—”
“I’m sorry.” Molly clutched his arm. “I can’t stop her. She’s controlling me.”
“I know. I’m going to stop her. Tell me her name.”
Molly grimaced, and her fingers dug into his arm.
“Molly,” he said sharply. “Quickly. Tell me—”
Her back arched, and her eyelids squeezed shut as she cried out in pain. Then, with a long, hissed breath, her body lowered to the floor again.
“Molly?”
Her eyes flicked opened. Once again, they glittered with orange-yellow flames.
Stop manipulating me! Molly silently cried. Leave me alone.
For an instant, after she’d hit her head, she’d broken free of the presence that had possessed her. But, as she’d gazed up at Lucian’s worried face, her heart aching to see him so concerned, the controlling force had sent unbearable pain racing through her. She’d had no choice but to surrender to it. Once more she’d become a prisoner in her own body.
Lucian had clearly noticed she wasn’t herself again. His gaze had hardened, and he’d scooted backward.
Molly pushed up on one arm, fire gathering in her hand. How strange that she couldn’t feel the burning flame against her skin, but experienced full-force the emotions of the entity controlling her.
Why did the presence feel such jealous rage toward Lucian?
Molly’s arm moved. She willed it to stop, tried to lower her limb to her side, to no avail. Fire from her palm whooshed toward Lucian. He dove sideways, slamming into the Edwardian chair. He grunted, a sound of pain, and the dark energy gloated.
Lucian scrambled to rise. “Tell me who you are.” He was standing now, his right hand flexing on his sword.
Molly silently wept, because the evil presence was enjoying the attack. It liked Lucian’s torment and wanted to inflict more.
“You know who I am,” the dark energy made her say.
“Do I?”
Lucian’s answer infuriated the presence.
“I’ve known lots of women in my many lifetimes,” he added.
Wait. What?
How could he have lived many lifetimes?
“I care only about your first life,” the entity said.
Molly struggled to understand. She’d heard of immortals, even watched a popular series on TV about them, but they were just fictional characters. Weren’t they?
Lucian’s head tilted to the left, and she heard another man speaking; a voice she’d heard earlier before her thoughts had focused on the fight. She’d seen Galahad dart behind the counter, but a customer must have hidden there as well.
Unless…
No. Galahad was just a normal cat. He didn’t speak as a human would.
Then again, antiques on shelves near Lucian that she hadn’t noticed before today were moving around and growling, so nothing happening right now fitted her ideas of ‘normal.’
“I do remember,” Lucian was saying. “Agnes.”
The dark energy’s smug satisfaction burned inside Molly. “Aye.”
He scowled. “I killed you.”
“You slew my physical body, aye. With my dying breath, I cast a spell that bound my spirit to the gold I’d been wearing.”
“So I was right about that,” Lucian muttered.
“For centuries, I existed in a box,” the sorceress continued. “Many people through the years tried to remove the lid and failed. Molly, though—your clever, curious Molly—managed to open the box.”
I’m sorry, Molly silently sobbed. So very sorry, Lucian.
“Don’t blame Molly for this situation,” he gritted. “You tricked her.”
“No. She chose her fate. She had free will through every step of my resurrection; right up until last night.”
With sickening dismay, Molly thought of how wonderful she’d felt every time she’d worn the necklace. The addictive pleasure had been Agnes manipulating her.
“Molly didn’t revive you just by opening the box,” Lucian challenged. “Nor did your powers return by her wearing the necklace now and again.”
“Quite right.” The sorceress smirked. “However, the more she wore the necklace, the stronger I became. I also analyzed her conversations, what she watched on television, what she listened to on the radio, and I learned the modern language. It was easier than I’d ever imagined to become part of her.”
A muscle ticked in Lucian’s cheek. “How—?”
“She and I are highly compatible. You see, we share ancestors.”
“Common DNA,” he growled.
Oh, no, Molly silently moaned.
“Molly did, at times, resist me. Then last night….” Agnes smiled. “The spell you used to put her to sleep? I used that magic, Lucian. Your magic. Thanks to you, I was able to take control over her.”
Poor Lucian looked aghast, as though the sword he held had turned on him and run him through.
“Molly and I will be together now until the day she dies.”
Oh, no. No!
“Using what Molly’s mother learned about her ancestry, and the help of the Dealers who have already contacted me, we’ll meet many more of our relatives.”
“That’s why you want the necklace,” Lucian said. “You’ll use the magic in the gold to gain control of those relatives.”
The sorceress laughed. “Aye.”
“I won’t let you.”
The sorceress sneered. Molly’s arms rose, and even as she struggled not to obey, tremors of power rippled across her palms.
Lucian’s left hand moved. Silver light rushed toward h
er and hit her stomach. She jolted, her body instantly numbed. She couldn’t move at all.
Good. Now the sorceress couldn’t hurt him—
The dark presence within Molly, though, merely laughed. Her skin tightened, as though she’d suddenly been encased head to toe in plastic wrap. With a fiery burst, the paralysis vanished.
Flames shot in steady streams from Molly’s fingers. Agnes forced her to move forward, toward Lucian. He tossed aside his sword and used both hands to counter the fire with orbs of glittering silvery light.
With a thunderous bang-hiss, the table beside him exploded in flames.
Lucian lunged to the side, still shooting silver light, but with a firm wrench of her hand, the sorceress sent him flying into the store counter.
Lucian! Molly silently shrieked.
He fell to the floor, gasping, the breath knocked out of him. No doubt he’d soon have bruises from the impact.
With the frantic scrabbling of claws, Galahad raced from behind the counter. “Get up,” he shouted to Lucian. “You can’t let her get the necklace.”
Oh, goodness! The voice Molly had heard before hadn’t been a customer’s, but Galahad’s!
Did all cats talk? If so, would she be able to understand her mother’s kitties? Molly had no way of knowing because she hadn’t seen them that morning. Agnes had made her leave the house without feeding them.
Clearly struggling to breathe, Lucian pushed up on his hands then twisted onto his side to shoot more silvery light. The bolts plowed into Molly. She staggered, careened into an oak side table. Despite throbbing pain in her hip, the sorceress made her keep walking. Only a few more steps, and they’d reach the shelf holding the plain wooden box.
“Don’t,” Lucian bellowed, on his feet again.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” the sorceress said.
He shot a stronger pulse of light that howled through the air. With a flick of Molly’s hand, Agnes deflected the blast into a glass-front cabinet. Wood, china, and glass exploded. As Molly gasped in horror, Lucian cast a spell that contained the explosion and all of its tiny, deadly fragments.
The sorceress aimed Molly’s hand at the still-burning table.
No! Stop, Molly silently pleaded. But, she couldn’t keep the table from sliding across the floor. With a dull thud, it hit Lucian and propelled him sideways. He slammed into the counter, trapped between it and the tabletop. With a jerk of her arm, the sorceress made the flames on the table leap higher, making it impossible to see him any longer.
Lucian! Molly silently cried.
How desperately she wanted to help him. Molly tried to run to him, but the sorceress sparked intense pain in her skull. Crying out in agony, Molly yielded.
Agnes made her approach the shelf. The box was easily within reach, but the sorceress didn’t make her grab it.
Why not?
Molly’s shaking hand rose, but on Agnes’s command, she tapped patterns in the air that she’d never known or even imagined possible before now. Shimmering layers of colored light appeared in front of her, along with symbols: lions, initials, letters….
They were hallmarks. Magical hallmarks.
Several layers of light faded away. “So many locks,” Agnes hissed, as Molly’s fingers continued to move.
Molly prayed the sorceress wouldn’t be able to undo all of the locks. How was Lucian? She couldn’t see him, because of the direction she faced, but she could hear Galahad yelling his name and the roar of the flames.
What if Lucian was mortally injured? What if he—?
More layers of light vanished.
Oh, no. No!
Its wings buzzing, a scarab beetle rose from the shelf of antiques and zoomed toward the ceiling. Other antiques were escaping, now that they were no longer contained by magical locks. Seeing them go deepened Molly’s despair, because the antiques had been contained for a reason—and knowing what she did now about Lucian and magic, it would have been a good reason.
She gasped at more stabbing pain in her skull: The sorceress wanted her to take the box.
Molly reached for it. But, just as her fingers were about to close on it, sparks erupted, snapping and popping and swiftly spreading to surround the box. A row of hallmarks glowed inches from her wrist.
The sparks faded to reveal the box was encased in round links made of silver light. The patterning reminded Molly of…medieval chain mail.
“Lucian,” the sorceress snarled.
When Lucian had talked about going all medieval on her, Molly really had thought he’d been joking. However, the sorceress knew this was Lucian’s spell, because of its elements of ancient magic. If, as he’d said earlier, he’d lived many lifetimes, could one—or several—of them date back to the Middle Ages? How was that even possible?
The sorceress forced Molly to execute more patterns in the air.
Sparks zapped her skin, the sensation similar to snapping elastic bands. But, the hallmarks remained bright. The spell was holding steady.
Yes! Thank God.
“Try again,” Agnes commanded, forcing Molly to convey patterns once more then draw lines and swirls in the air. But, the hallmarks didn’t disappear. The spell didn’t break.
With a furious shriek, the sorceress spurred Molly to face the burning table. Thick, black smoke rolled like fog along the ceiling. The flames, four or five feet high, consumed the furnishing.
No human being could survive such an inferno.
Yet, within the yellow-orange flames, she glimpsed silver light. Lucian’s light.
Please be okay. Please.
“We’re not done, Lucian,” Molly heard herself shout.
Panting, darting back and forth by the claw-foot table legs, Galahad hissed at her. “Damn right. We aren’t done.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, you stupid—”
Faint laughter carried from outside the shop. The stores on the street would soon be opening.
Molly sensed the sorceress’s wariness; she mustn’t be seen or discovered in the damaged store. Agnes wouldn’t risk her plans being undermined.
The sorceress forced Molly to head for the rear door. Broken glass and splintered wood crunched under her shoes.
No! We can’t leave yet. I have to know Lucian is okay.
The sorceress subdued her with more agonizing pain. “Bring me the necklace today, Lucian, or Molly dies.”
Chapter Fifteen
Flames battered Lucian’s magical shield. Scorching heat assaulted him. His head pounded as he struggled to remember the incantation that would move the table and douse the fire. He knew the words; he just couldn’t pull them from his rattled mind. When the sorceress had thrown him against the counter, he’d hit his head, and now he had trouble thinking clearly.
“Come on. Focus,” Galahad yowled.
Lucian’s eyes streamed from the heat and smoke. He had to remember the spell. He had to save Molly.
Yet, handing over the necklace wasn’t an option, either.
Seething anger and frustration broke from him on a roar. With his deepening rage, his thoughts coalesced.
He ground out the words of the spell, and with the squeal of wood on wood, the table skidded away across the planks. The flames extinguished. He exhaled a harsh sigh and canceled the shield.
The squire bounded over to him. “You okay?”
“I think so.” Ignoring the aches in his limbs, Lucian raced for the rear door, flung it open, and scanned the parking lot for Molly, but she was nowhere in sight. He dragged his hand over his sweaty face, swore and kicked the pavement. He needed to find her, but he couldn’t confront Agnes in the middle of town where she could jeopardize the lives of non-Magicals.
“Someone’s trying to enter the shop,” Galahad said from the doorway.
“Is it nine o’clock already?” Lucian hurried back inside. According to his phone, he didn’t have to open for another five minutes. With the cursed antiques loose in the antique shop, and the floor littered with debris, it was a good thing hi
s earlier spells remained in place. Whoever was now tapping on the door would have to come back later.
A droning sound cut into his thoughts.
“Um…Lucian?” The feline nudged his chin toward a spot behind him.
Glancing back, Lucian saw the scarab beetle diving straight for him; payback for it being confined to a shelf for years. Lucian lunged sideways, while the scarab swooped low then veered toward the ceiling.
Muffled growling came from a chair to his right. Shredding the padded armrest, the teddy bear looked at him, snarled gleefully, then went straight back to chewing.
Lucian surveyed the rest of the room. Luckily, none of the cursed antiques had escaped—and he’d make sure they never got out to wreak havoc in Cat’s Paw Cove.
“We must go after Molly,” Galahad said.
“We will. She’s safe enough for now.”
The cat’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve got to be joking. Did you breathe in too much smoke?”
Lucian’s lips flattened. More than anything, he wanted to look for Molly, but he couldn’t neglect other priorities. “Agnes won’t seriously hurt Molly. Not until I hand over the necklace.”
“You do recall what she’s going to do with the necklace, right?”
“I do.” Lucian raised his hand toward the scarab, scuttling along the top of an oil painting’s gilt frame. With a twist of his wrist, he sent the scarab back to its shelf, quieted it, and quickly added magical locks. “You and I are going to stop Agnes for good and save Molly.”
“We’ll rescue her, just like we rescued Brigitte.”
Lucian noted the wobble in the squire’s voice. “Yes,” Lucian said, even as he silently acknowledged what might be the only way to save Molly and destroy the sorceress: he might have to sacrifice himself.
After twenty minutes of chasing artifacts and securing them all back in their assigned spots in the collection, Lucian lifted his earlier spells and turned the store sign to ‘Open.” He went to fetch a dustpan, broom, and bucket.
Just as he was returning to the main part of the store, the bell on the front door jingled. Cora and a plump, gray-haired woman entered.
“This day just gets better and better,” Galahad meowed.
“Good morning,” Lucian called.
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