The Lost Enchantress

by Patricia Coughlin

  “Eve! What are you doing here?”

  Rory didn’t sound happy. Eve didn’t care. In fact, she hardly noticed. She was too busy being relieved and overjoyed to see that she wasn’t bound and gagged or under attack by spinning blue lasers or worse. Like a new mother counting her baby’s fingers and toes, Eve did a quick inventory: two arms, two legs, head still attached and operational. Nothing missing or bleeding. Only when she was certain Rory was all right did she remember how upset she was with her.

  “Me? You want to know what I’m doing here. Do you have any idea how worr—”

  “I gotta bolt,” said the kid on the bike just as Eve was warming up. He deftly wheeled around her to get back on the paved walk. “See ya, Rory.”

  “Toby, wait.”

  But Toby didn’t wait, and for just a second Rory looked exactly as she had when she was five and the string attached to her balloon slipped through her fingers and the balloon floated away . . . a little surprised, a little wistful, her full bottom lip trembling almost imperceptibly. She’d watched until the balloon was out of sight; then she’d blinked and put her chin up and got on with her life. Now that she was older and more self-conscious, she threw in a casual head toss that sent her long dark brown hair sailing over her shoulder and revealed the trio of small shining silver studs in her left ear, a sun, a moon and a star.

  As soon as the kid took off, Hazard stepped from the shadows close beside her. “Shall I bring the boy back?” he asked.

  Eve shook her head. She had no doubt he could catch the kid, but she was less certain about what he’d do with him once he had. As far as she knew, whoever Toby was, he hadn’t done anything to merit finding out.

  “Bye,” Rory called after him. “Don’t forget about Thursday night.”

  “I’ll be there,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Be where?” Eve asked. “What’s Thursday night? Rory, who was that?”

  “Toby.”

  “Toby who? And what were you thinking coming here alone with him at this time of night?”

  “Seven thirty?” Rory countered, rolling her eyes as only a fifteen-year-old can.

  Seven thirty? It had to be later than that. Eve checked her watch and frowned. It sure felt later. And time wasn’t the issue anyway.

  “I don’t care what time it is,” she told her niece. “I still want to know what you were doing here alone with him and how you know him . . . and why he was in such a hurry to take off the minute he saw me.”

  “Probably to avoid the inquisition,” Rory retorted. “God, Eve, Gestapo much?”

  “Don’t be a wiseass. You don’t want me to ask questions? Don’t take off without telling me or calling or leaving a note so I know where to find you. You turned your cell phone off, for heaven’s sake. What if I’d needed you for some reason?”

  “Is that why you’re here? Because you need me for some reason?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “It never is,” Rory retorted, sounding exasperated. “You know as well as I do that if I were home now I’d just be sitting around by myself because Mom’s away and Grand had to go to her . . .” She stopped and waved her hand in the air. “Her whatever. And you always work late on Monday nights.”

  “Not always,” Eve muttered.

  “I’ve forgotten to leave notes before and you never freaked out and went all Dog the Bounty Hunter on me.”

  “Also not the point,” said Eve.

  Rory heaved a tortured sigh. “So what is the point?”

  “The point is that I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  “About me?” she challenged, shoving her hand into her jacket pocket. “Or this?”

  She dangled the pendant in the air between them.

  “So, you did take it,” Eve said softly.

  “Borrowed it,” Rory corrected. “And I thought I’d have it back before you or Grand found out. I meant to. Really I did.”

  “But why would you take it in the first place? You had to know that if we hid it, it was because we had a good reason.”

  She sighed, looking even younger than she was.

  “I know, but . . .” She gathered the chain back into her palm and closed her fingers around it. “I just wanted to see if it worked.”

  “Worked?”

  “You know, if it could really tell whether a guy was your one true love, like Grand said.”

  “You heard us talking?” Eve asked, cursing inwardly as colorful bits and pieces of her conversation with Grand came fluttering their incriminating little wings back to her.

  Rory did a little uneasy squirming and nodded. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, honest. I just happened to wake up and hear your voice and I knew you were home from the auction. I got up to hear all about it and got as far as the kitchen when I heard Grand say something about a long-lost family talisman . . . so I sort of decided to hang out there and listen a little while longer,” she finished in a guilty rush.

  “Which is the definition of eavesdropping,” Eve pointed out.

  “Well, yeah, I guess if you want to get all technical about it. Anyway, that’s how I happened to hear her telling you about how the talisman was a gift from a goddess and about it being a link to divine magic. Divine magic of the Everrealm, is what she said. Is all that true, Eve?” Her voice quickened with excitement. “Is it really a magic talisman? Do you think it’s true that all we have to do is press it to a man’s heart to find out if he—”

  “What I think,” Eve interrupted, suddenly remembering that Hazard was standing only a few feet away, listening to every word, “is that it’s something we should talk about later. At home,” she added pointedly.

  As grateful as she was for his help finding Rory, Eve still didn’t trust him one hundred percent, maybe not even fifty percent, and the less he knew about the pendant the safer she would feel.

  “All right,” agreed Rory, savvy enough to recognize a hint when her aunt dropped one on her. “I just have to grab my bag and . . .” She trailed off and glanced at the bench behind her and under it. “Oh bollocks,” she muttered, an expression she’d heard on a favorite television show and made her own.

  Also one familiar to Hazard judging by the quick “heh” from his direction.

  “What’s the matter?” Eve asked her.

  “My bag. I must have left it with Roger.”

  “Roger?”

  “Williams,” she said, hitching her head toward the statue on the other side of the fence.

  Eve knew that climbing over the fence and creeping along the narrow ledge to sit in rebellious privacy at the base of the stone arch was a rite of passage for local kids. She’d done it herself more than once. She just didn’t remember the ledge being as narrow or the drop as long as it looked to her now. Before she had a chance to say “Be careful,” Rory was over the fence.

  She pressed herself against the flat outer wall of the arch with one hand on the stone and took a step sideways. Then she stopped and looked back at Eve.

  “Here,” she said, “take this so I can use both hands.”

  She stretched her right arm out to hand the pendant to Eve, and as she did, her left foot lifted off the ledge.

  “Whoa, careful,” Eve cried, hurrying to reach out and take it from her. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea. It’s dark and—”

  “Please,” Rory said. “I’ve done this a hundred times in the dark.”

  “Oh really?” That was something else they would need to discuss later.

  “Well, maybe not a hundred,” she conceded, sounding not at all concerned as she inched her way along. “But definitely enough times to know what I’m doing.”

  She disappeared around the front of the arch.

  “Got it,” she called and a few seconds later reappeared on the ledge with the bag.

  Halfway back the strap slipped off her shoulder and the bag bounced against her hip. Rory took her hand off the wall to hitch it back up, but a step later it slipped again. This time the weight s
eemed to tug Rory slightly backwards and off balance.

  “Be careful,” urged Eve, cringing a little. “Better yet, hand it to me.”

  When she went to hold on to the fence in order to lean forward and take the bag from Rory, she realized she was still holding the pendant and looked around.

  “Here.” She shoved it at Hazard and returned to helping Rory.

  With both hands free she was able to hold on to the fence and reach for the bag. She was still a few inches short, so she stepped up onto the bottom rail of the fence and leaned forward, stretching her arm out as far as she could.

  She almost had it when Rory’s foot slipped and she lurched sideways. Adrenalin pumping hard, Eve shot forward to try to grab her. Immediately Hazard was at her back with his arm clamped tightly around her waist, anchoring her to safety.

  “I’ve got you,” he said.

  Eve hung farther over the fence than she would have dared on her own and managed to curl her fingertips under the strap and haul it in.

  Rory took a second to regain her balance.

  Hazard bent his head.

  “Nicely done,” he said, his voice deep and very close.

  Eve shivered. From relief, she told herself. Either that or the cool night air. It had nothing to do with Hazard whispering in her ear or with how strong and warm his body felt against hers.

  He slowly slid his arm from around her waist and extended it to Rory.

  “Would you like a hand?” he asked.

  Rory tilted her head to the side and stared as if seeing him for the first time. And Eve had a pretty good idea what she was thinking.

  “Who are you?” she asked him.

  “My name’s Hazard.”

  “Hazard something or something Hazard?”

  “Just Hazard will do. A hand?”

  She grinned. “Sure.”

  Shifting one foot to the bottom rail, she grasped the hand he offered and with him supplying momentum, vaulted gracefully over the fence.

  “Are you okay?” Eve asked, succumbing to the urge to give her a quick hug.

  “Of course,” Rory countered, hugging her back. When Eve let her go, she reached for her bag and fished out her comb.

  Hazard met Eve’s gaze. “And you?”

  “Better now,” she admitted. “Wouldn’t mind sitting down, though.”

  He nodded and they started back toward the car.

  Rory snagged Eve’s arm to hold her back a step and shot her a look from beneath raised brows.

  Who is he?

  Nobody, Eve told her with a small but firm shake of her head.

  The silent exchange of looks continued behind his back.

  I’m impressed.

  You have the wrong idea.

  Oh yeah? Well, something tells me he’s got the same wrong idea.

  He doesn’t. At least I don’t think he does. No, he definitely doesn’t.

  Want me to try to find out?

  Want to be grounded forever?

  Rory just grinned.

  “Nice car,” she said from the backseat as Hazard slid behind the wheel.

  “Thank you,” he replied.

  “Satellite radio?”

  “It seems so,” he said. “I know there are four weather stations.”

  “That’s nice,” Rory said politely and waited half a beat. “So. Do you guys know each other from work or—”

  “Or,” Eve said without waiting to hear the second choice.

  She glanced sideways and found Hazard doing the same.

  “Are you a reporter too, Hazard?” Rory asked.

  Damn, thought Eve. She should have known Rory would want to know more. She wasn’t sure exactly how she was going to explain Hazard to her and wanted some time to mull it over. She was very sure she didn’t want him explaining himself.

  “No,” he told her.

  “A photographer? Producer? Director? Butcher . . . baker . . . somebody want to help me out? I’m running out of job titles.”

  “Hazard is a consultant,” Eve told her.

  “That sounds interesting.”

  “Oh, it is. Fascinating, in fact,” said Hazard. He slanted a wry look at Eve and added, “At times. Unfortunately, it can also be tedious and repetitive.”

  “That’s probably because you stick with one project too long,” Eve countered. “You have to know when it’s time to throw in the towel and move on.”

  “I never move on until the job is done.”

  When they pulled into his driveway, Eve breathed a sigh of relief and quickly got out of the car. She started to thank him, expecting him to say good night and go inside; instead, Hazard accompanied them across the street to her car and walked around to open the passenger door for a surprised and delighted Rory. He even offered her his hand as she climbed in and told her it had been a pleasure to meet her. Eve wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard him use the word “charmed.”

  As if, she thought, he hadn’t made enough of an impression on her just by standing upright and breathing.

  “You do realize that in a matter of minutes you have completely dazzled her,” she told him as he walked back to where she was standing.

  “I have? How?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.

  “By being dazzling. Holding her door, holding her hand, paying attention . . . did I hear you tell her she was charming?”

  “I was merely being polite and doing what’s required of a gentleman.”

  “Last century maybe. These days . . . not so much.”

  He shrugged. “I was being a gentleman, nothing more. I never intended for it to be seen as anything else.”

  “Well, what you intend and what a fifteen-year-old sees are not necessarily the same thing. Besides, it’s not only what you do or say, it’s you . . . the hair, the face, the accent. The hint of mystery and I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude don’t hurt any either.”

  “I don’t give a damn.”

  “And it’s working for you, so keep it up.”

  He appeared mystified and a little bothered by her observations.

  “Oh come on,” Eve said to him. “You must be aware of the effect you have on women. Some women anyway,” she added so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. “Girls Rory’s age are especially susceptible to your brand of dazzle.”

  “Dazzling.” His lip curled as he said it. “That’s not something I would ever want to be.”

  “Really?” she countered, not believing a word of it. “Most men I know would really get off on it.”

  His gaze swung back to meet hers. “It would be a mistake to confuse me with other men you know.”

  “I’ll make a note,” she said, trying to keep it light in spite of the fact that there was no hint of teasing in his voice or his eyes. “Before I go I have to thank you for helping me tonight, but first I want to apologize for the way I came barging in and throwing accusations at you. I’m sure you noticed I was pretty frazzled.”

  “Frazzled?”

  “You know, freaked out. Worried.”

  He nodded. “That’s understandable.”

  “It’s still no excuse to go jumping to conclusions . . . especially the wrong conclusions. I kept thinking of all the bad things that could have happened to her and I panicked. Then when I looked at your card and saw where you live . . . well, it pushed me over the edge.”

  “Why would that matter?”

  She turned to look at the house. “Because this is where I used to live. A long time ago. I grew up here. And I couldn’t believe it was a coincidence that of all the places in Providence you could have lived, you chose this one.” There were lights on inside the house, and something about standing there on the outside, looking in, made her suddenly homesick. Which was absurd since it hadn’t been her home for a very long time.

  “There used to be a weather vane,” she said, mostly to have something to say. “A black raven with ruby red eyes. When I was a kid, no matter where I was in the neighborhood I could look up and see him watching me. I knew that there was
home, and it made me feel . . . safe.”

  She turned to find him leaning against the car with his arms folded, watching her with an expression she couldn’t decipher.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and ask me?” he said.

  “All right. Is it just a coincidence that you’re living here?”

  “It must be, since when I bought the house I didn’t even know you existed, much less that you’d once lived here.”

  Eve caught the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth, stared into his eyes and tried to decide if she believed him. “Would you lie about it?”

  “Yes. If I had to. But I’m not lying now.”

  Unless he was lying about lying, she thought, but there was no sense jumping into that vicious circle.

  “Are you happy living here?” she asked impulsively.

  He did hesitate at that. “I never thought about it. I don’t think in terms of being happy or unhappy. I certainly didn’t buy it for that reason.”

  “Why did you buy it?”

  Again he hesitated. Eve had the impression of a man searching for safe ground between the truth and a lie.

  Finally he shrugged. “For the three things that experts say matter most when buying a house . . . location, location, location. And I suppose because the room at the top of the turret is ideally situated for magic and the flow of energy. That suits me, as I’m sure it once suited you.”

  He said it offhandedly, but the interest in his gaze was anything but casual.

  “That was a long time ago,” she said, trying to block memories that threatened to bully their way in and tear her concentration to shreds. “But I know my grandmother will be pleased to hear that the house belongs to someone who appreciates it. And speaking of Grand, it just occurred to me that I didn’t leave a note either. Maybe I can get home before she does.” She rested her hand on the door handle. “I just want you to know how grateful I am for your help finding Rory. Without you, I’d still be looking . . . and going crazy.”

  “You did all the work.”