Night Magic

by Susan Squires

  Senior walked in with a steaming mug of coffee and stopped dead. “You’re here early,” he said by way of greeting. “Didn’t expect you for hours yet.”

  “Damn house doesn’t have any curtains in the master bedroom,” Kemble muttered. “The sun this morning was brutal.”

  His father snorted a chuckle. “Surprised you got any sleep at all. How’s married life?”

  “Fine,” Kemble said.

  There was a long pause while Kemble pretended to read the same page of the contract he’d been going over for the last twenty minutes. “Fine?” his father said. “Is that all?”

  Kemble sighed. “You wouldn’t expect me to kiss and tell, would you?” He was not telling Senior about his pathetic failure as a husband.

  “No, no, of course not, son,” his father said, embarrassed. Kemble glanced up to see his father soften. That was odd. “I guess we old warhorses just like to relive our glory days through our children.”

  Was his father admitting vulnerability? “Don’t act like you’re over the hill. You’re not kidding anyone. We all know you and Mother still. . . .” He cleared his throat. “Well, you aren’t dead yet.”

  That perked his father up. “I thought we were pretty discreet,” he said, but he looked very pleased with himself.

  “Not discreet enough.” Kemble turned his attention back to his contracts. But he couldn’t help a grin. “We’re totally grossed out, of course.”

  “That sounds like something Lanyon would say.” His father chuckled.

  “It isn’t.” He didn’t look at his father. “He’d just make some horrible gaakking noise.”

  “You’re right.” His father sat down across from him. “Speaking of which. What’s up with Lanyon lately?”

  “What do you mean?” And why would his father ask Kemble?

  “He’s been broody. Thought you might know why.”

  His father wanted his advice about the family?

  Kemble must have looked shocked, because Senior said, “I know, I know. You’re surprised I noticed.” He got a rueful expression. “I’m trying not to make the same mistake I made with Tristram.”

  Kemble wasn’t going to tell his father that wasn’t why he was surprised. He cleared his throat. He hadn’t really noticed Lanyon’s attitude. But now that he thought about it, his father was right. Of course. “Not hard to figure that one out,” he ventured. “He’s twenty-three and stuck in a compound with his family. He doesn’t meet girls. He can’t go to clubs and get rip-roaring drunk or drive a car he spent the last dollar of his allowance on way too fast. Oh, and he lives on an allowance.”

  “Did you do those things?” His father looked like he thought Kemble incapable of a young man’s peccadillos. It made Kemble realize that he often came off as stiff, old beyond his years.

  “That’s a combination of me and Tristram. I wasn’t interested in cars that much.” Take that. He’d done his share of sowing wild oats. But he wasn’t giving details.

  His father sighed. “You’re right, of course. But what can we do about it? We can’t let him out where the Clan can get at him. . . . What do you think?”

  His father was asking him for advice. Was that a first? “Just inviting girls to the Breakers won’t do it. He’s probably going stir-crazy pent up here all the time.”

  “Wait.” His father got a thoughtful look.

  “Wait, what?”

  “Well, it’s my job to keep the family safe.”

  “Yes.” That was their deal. Kemble looked for Talismans, Senior did defense and ran the company.

  “So I’ve been keeping track of the Clan. As best I could. They’re devious. But just this week I’ve come across evidence that they’ve decamped to the Mediterranean. Athens, to be specific. Plane tickets. Hotel Intercontinental. Under pseudonyms, of course. But it’s them. They’ve been seen by hotel staff. Twelve of them.”

  “Could they have found another Talisman?” Kemble’s heart sank.

  “Perhaps. We won’t know for a while. And nothing we can do about it at the moment. But that’s not the point.” He turned to Kemble. “If ever we’re going to let Lanyon off his leash, now would be the time.”

  Kemble’s eyes widened. “An outing might go a long way to keeping the powder keg from blowing. I still wouldn’t trust him at a nightclub or anything like that,” Kemble mused, now interested in the problem. “They might have left one or two behind. But they’d never guess we’d leave the compound. What about someplace that will already have security? Edwards and company would just supplement.” He cast about. He couldn’t help the grin as an idea struck. “How about the opening of the new exhibit at the museum? Security will be great. I know we hadn’t planned to go. . . .”

  His father brightened. Senior was on the Executive Advisory Board of the museum. Senior had suggested the firm handling the security for the traveling exhibit of Medieval European treasures, so he’d trust them. “But there are many different kinds of danger to the family, and cooping Lanyon up here isn’t good for him.” His father tapped his chin. “There will be lots of young women there, just for the display of jewels,” his father murmured, beginning to smile. “Nice, appropriate young women of good family. And Christian was disappointed when I told him your mother and I couldn’t go.”

  “He’ll love having you there as chaperones,” Kemble said. He kept his voice flat, but Senior didn’t miss the sarcasm.

  “Just to be sure the security is tight and lend an extra set of eyes,” he protested. “We won’t get in his way.”

  “Might as well take Tamsen too. Kill two birds with one stone.”

  His father started. “She’s not old enough. . . .”

  Kemble kept himself from rolling his eyes. “Yes. She is. She’s twenty-one in August.”

  “But she isn’t chafing. . . .”

  “How would we know? Her sunny nature covers any sign of the misgivings she might have about her situation.” Kemble was proud of himself. That was pretty damned insightful. “And even if she isn’t chafing yet, maybe a little preventive maintenance wouldn’t go amiss.”

  His father examined him as though he was an imposter, some alien who was impersonating Kemble Tremaine. Kemble was okay with that. “You may be right,” Senior said at last. “Okay. It’s a risk. But I think we have to take it. I’ll go see Edwards. Then I’ll call Knight, Inc. and check their arrangements again. . . .” Senior was back in Captain-of-Industry mode. He grabbed his coffee cup and strode out of the room.

  Leaving Kemble staring at his contracts, half wanting to grab Jane and take her to the new house right now, and half dreading his next encounter with her. No, he was not taking her back to the house now. He was going to follow his leads on the Talismans, just in case the Clan didn’t already have them all, he thought sourly. Then he was going to do his research, and be prepared for Jane next time. If there was a next time. They’d been pretty silent this morning as he rushed her off to the Breakers to get her foot Healed. No time for breakfast. No food in the house anyway. He wondered where she was now.

  *****

  Brina was in the sunroom off the family room when Jane limped in. Brina’s alabaster skin was bathed in morning light from the wall of windows that looked out over the side yard to the north. She wore a simple pair of black slacks and a white silk blouse with a drapey neckline. As usual, she looked great. Before her, on the glass top of the low wicker coffee table, her tarot cards were spread.

  “My dear, what’s happened?” Brina rose abruptly and came over to help Jane.

  “Oh, I was stupid enough to break a glass in the bathroom and then cut my foot on the shards.” Jane had never felt so awkward. And playing ugly duckling to Brina’s swan didn’t help.

  “Well, sit down here, and let’s take care of that. “ She positioned Jane on the couch and brought her foot up on the table. She swept the cards aside and sat on the edge.

  “Oh, you shouldn’t have disturbed the cards,” Jane protested. “Were you in the middle of a readi
ng?”

  Brina slid off Jane’s loafer and tsked when she saw the bloodied gauze. She began to unwind it. “No. I got what I needed.”

  Jane’s discomfort stemmed from more than the cut on her foot. She had a feeling she knew why Brina had been casting cards.

  Brina looked up at her and gave a rueful half smile. “I never could hide anything from you, Jane. You were always far too perceptive, even when you were a child.” She examined the cut. “This is a deep one. Yes, I was casting for you and Kemble.”

  Jane took a breath. Well, she couldn’t not ask. “What did you see?”

  “What I always see for you. You always have the same major arcana cards, Strength and the High Priestess most prominently among them.”

  “I don’t feel very religious.”

  Brina chuckled. “No, no. The Priestess is about wisdom and feminine intuition, not necessarily about religion.”

  “Oh.”

  “And lately I’ve been seeing more of the Empress. She showed up today.” Before Jane could protest that she didn’t feel like the ruler of any part of her life right now, Brina added, “She’s all about domestic stability, marriage, abundance, security. Or,” she continued, shrugging, “she could be about problems in a relationship, lack of affection, some kind of blockage if she’s reversed.”

  Oh, dear. Jane knew which version she suspected the cards meant. “Was she reversed?”

  Brina shook her head. “I cast several times. Sometimes she is and sometimes she isn’t. It’s a little unclear. The surrounding cards can also be interpreted in several ways.”

  “Oh.” Jane stared at Brina’s perfectly upswept hair as she bent over Jane’s foot. “How about Kemble?”

  Brina straightened. “He’s all about the Fool card right now. And it too is coming out reversed about half the time. So, either new beginnings and the prospect of happiness and prosperity, or rash choices he’ll live to regret.” She looked to Jane for a reaction.

  Jane didn’t know what to say. Yes, she did. Brina wouldn’t judge her. And she was the closest thing to a mother and mentor Jane had. “It didn’t go so well last night.”

  “Hard to make love with a bleeding foot,” Brina said, her voice kind.

  “I know. But. . . .”

  “I could tell you what all the other cards I cast indicate, but do you know what I think the real lesson of the tarot is?” Brina asked.

  Jane shook her head.

  “That to know the way things will unfold, you just have to work through them. The cards give indications that are subject to interpretation. But life is going to happen and we have to work through the challenges it gives us to the best of our ability.” She laid a hand on Jane’s cheek. “You are a smart and loving girl, Jane. The cards are right about how strong you are, and your wisdom and intuition. You don’t believe it at the moment, but you’ll win through. I know you will.”

  “You’re kind,” Jane murmured. Wrong, but kind. She cocked her head and looked at Brina, gauging whether she should ask the next question. But she couldn’t help herself. “Do you ever cast the cards for you and Brian?”

  Brina chuckled. “It’s funny you should ask that. I don’t so much anymore. Sometimes, if he’s especially worried or preoccupied, I’ll cast for him. But for us together? Not really.” She shrugged. “I guess because I’ve found my happiness. I have the man I’ve always wanted. I want him still, and I am very certain he wants me. We have a family of wonderful, difficult, bright and beautiful children, and now spouses and a grandchild. If I cast the cards for us, what could they say? There’s only one way to go after you’ve reached what you think is perfection. And I’ve decided I just don’t want to know if it’s going to be less perfect in the future. I concentrate on being grateful for what I have today.”

  Jane had never heard such a wonderful, brave sentiment. But it was also rather sad.

  Brina slapped her knees. “Now, let’s see to this cut.”

  *****

  Jane was adding a couple of extra yolks to her bowl of raw eggs to increase the richness of the scramble when Drew slouched into the kitchen about nine. That was early for Drew. Jane looked up. “Good morning.”

  “Don’t ‘good morning’ me,” Drew muttered, moving to the coffee pot like a meteor succumbing to earth’s gravity. Once she had her cup and had taken a sip, she turned on Jane. “Tell, all, BFF.”

  Was this what marriage did, put you in a state of permanent blush? “Nothing to tell,” she said lightly. She might tell Brina what happened. But she sure didn’t relish telling her best friend.

  “Your introduction to the world of sexual bliss is not nothing.”

  Oh, dear. Jane felt the air go out of her lungs. She took the bowl and turned to the stove, protecting herself from Drew’s prying eyes. “Didn’t happen.” And she should have left it there, but the excuses just tumbled out. “It was late. We were tired. Neither of us had gotten any sleep the night before. And then I was stupid enough to drop a glass in the bathroom, and I cut my foot, so. . . .” Finally all the words were gone, so she just shrugged, like it didn’t matter. And she would never tell Drew that he’d gotten her a nightgown. Or worn pajamas. Or that he hadn’t even held her. She felt as though she might break apart, she was so brittle. She grabbed a whisk and started beating her egg mixture within an inch of its life.

  She didn’t hear Drew moving, but suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder. “People put such stupid amounts of pressure on a wedding night. It’s just one night,” Drew said softly. “You have your whole lives together.”

  “I know.” But did they? Could a marriage built on settling for second best, at least on his part, thrive? No matter how much she wanted to make him a comfortable life, would that be enough for him? Would he tire of her? The horrible part was that she thought he was too honorable to divorce her even if he was just sick to death of being married to her. Unless he found his Destiny. Then she’d be out in a minute. But that was not going to happen. She agreed with him on that. No, she’d be there to see the distance growing in his eyes, the regret maybe turning to bitterness. Now she wondered if she could bear it.

  “It was one night,” Drew reiterated. “You have tonight.”

  Jane turned panicked eyes to Drew. Tonight. What would she do? What would she say?

  “You’ll be fine,” Drew reassured her. “Just let nature take its course.”

  Jane, for the life of her, couldn’t think what that meant. There was nothing natural about suddenly deciding to get married to someone you’d known most of your life, and never taken the slightest interest in, romantically. Or even noticed much about her. That’s what Kemble had done. But she nodded. Not her fault if it was a trifle convulsive. “I know,” she managed.

  But she really didn’t know anything of the sort.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “All right, what have we got, Hardwick?” Morgan barked as she swirled off her traveling cape and handed her shoulder bag to Jason. All the way home on the plane she had been thinking of Thomas, ripening and almost ready for enjoyment, brief though that might be. Still, he would give his all for her. Literally. And he was her path to immortality. She thought about bringing him back to Las Vegas with her. But that was too dangerous. Vegas was, after all, a Sin City full of temptation. The monastery was definitely the best place for him. For now.

  “The source says the Tremaines are going to the museum opening,” Hardwick said.

  Morgan smiled slyly. “Excellent. Tremaine isn’t as smart as he thinks he is, is he?”

  She whirled and paced, comforted by the light of the Talisman displays holding the Sword and the Wand. “It’s only a matter of time.” She looked up at Hardwick sharply. “But it’s going to get messy. How secure is your source?”

  “He’s ours, body and soul,” Hardwick reassured her. “We have something he wants more than anything.”

  She ran her hand through the streak of gray that remained in her hair. “Three! We’ll soon have three. But there’s so much more
to do. We must prepare for the day when we have them all. Even with three we can start.”

  Hardwick looked puzzled. The hard planes of his face made stark shadows in the glow of the Talismans. Well, she could make him look more than just puzzled.

  “Get me a list of the greatest military strategists.”

  Hardwick frowned. “You mean in the Pentagon or the Kremlin, or whatever?”

  She chuckled. “No. I want the greatest military minds of all time.” She watched his eyebrows rise. “That should keep you busy until it’s time for action.” She waited for questions. But he didn’t blink. That’s what she liked about him. He never hesitated, no matter what she asked, and he didn’t ask why. He’d know soon enough.

  *****

  The contracts for Redmond were complete. Michael had looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as he signed the last of them. Kemble was now trying to concentrate on the daunting task of looking for the Talismans of the Tarot. His computer screen glowed at him, but it wasn’t a cheery light. This whole effort had been so dispiriting lately. And what if Morgan and her crew were in Athens because she’d found one? Not that he thought it likely that a Talisman was in Greece. But the Sword had been buried treasure in the Caribbean, and the Wand was a walking stick in the possession of a Magister of the Golden Dawn. Maybe Greece wasn’t so farfetched after all.

  He sat back in his ergonomically correct chair. He just had to find a new angle. Okay. What did he know about the other Talismans? Maybe that would give him a clue. Well, they were all in great shape. It was as if there was some spell on them that prevented damage, even tarnish. The Sword had been buried, probably since the seventeenth century, and Michael said it came out of the ground gleaming. That was one thing. Then there was the fact that they were all very richly appointed—jewels and precious metals, carving, that sort of thing. He’d concentrate on the Cup, since he was stymied on the Pentacle.