Magic Flame (Enchanted Book 3)

by Sara Dobie Bauer

  Liam followed her inside, the strange tingling moving from his fingers into his whole body. The familiarity of the place—the sights, smells—prodded at his insides like reminders of something dead. No matter how much he’d loved his job at the Bistro, he didn’t know if he could find peace there again. The three-story restaurant stood for everything he’d once had and lost, namely, a normal life.

  Layla put her hand on his arm. “Are you okay?” She immediately sputtered, “That was a stupid question.” She walked away, her cowboy boots giving her walk a sexy sway.

  “Will you judge me if I ask for a drink right now?”

  She laughed, a high-pitched musical sound. “Of course not, Liam. I don’t even understand how you’re up and walking around, really. What’s your pleasure?” She walked around to behind the bar and leaned her elbows on hard wood. Her breasts practically poured over the top of her low-cut white sweater. “Wait. I know. You drink red wine.”

  He nodded and made his way closer to her—this woman who meant nothing to him. He shook his head a little at the strange buzzing in his ears.

  “Maybe I’ll have a glass, too.” She spun around. “I’ve got a Cab open. California. How’s that?”

  “Perfect.” He slid onto a barstool and clenched his fists as she poured.

  “Here.”

  “That’s a pretty heavy pour.”

  She turned back around with her own glass. “I thought about giving you the whole bottle, but…” She shrugged. “You look really good, Liam.”

  “So do you.”

  “Is there anything else I can…” She sighed. “Get you?”

  Under normal circumstances, Liam Cody knew when a woman was throwing herself at him, and he usually laughed it off. He didn’t like girls who tossed themselves at his feet like discarded cocktail napkins—though he was used to it. He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Cyan right before Max’s attack, when she’d made his good looks into more an accusation than observation. True, he’d used his looks for personal gain before, but he never did so with ill will. Did he? Now that he knew that he was deep down a dark witch, he wondered.

  “Can I…” Layla sauntered out from behind the bar until she stood at his side. She ran her fingers through his hair. “Would it help if I held you?”

  The buzzing in his ears increased as he turned on the barstool and pulled her into his arms. She stood between his legs and pressed her breasts against his chest. Near his throat, her mouth made a light humming sound before she pressed one, simple kiss against his skin. They held each other for about thirty seconds before Layla pulled back and looked into his eyes.

  She tilted her head. “I thought you had green eyes.”

  “What?”

  “I was wrong, though. Your eyes are blue. Almost like they’re glowing.”

  His fingertips burned. “Do you like me, Layla?”

  She chuckled. “Everyone likes you, Liam.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her. Her mouth was hungry and wet, and his stomach practically boiled. As he stood, he took hold of her waist and lifted her straight up and onto the edge of the bar. She made a pleased little squeak as he did so. He was tall enough to lean her body back over the bar and pin her below him. He held her hands above her head and kissed her throat and the top of her breasts. She moaned his name like a prayer.

  His brain shut down as the unfamiliar tingling in his body intensified. He was nothing but animal instinct as he unbuttoned her jeans and pushed his hand inside, his other still pinning Layla’s wrists above her head. She bucked under his touch and moaned, begging for more.

  Then, his vision shifted. The room took on a deep blue, foggy haze, as he seemed to lift above the scene on the bar. From above, he watched himself let go of Layla’s wrists. His hand moved to her throat instead and squeezed. He squeezed until she clawed at his hand. She tried to fight back, but he was too big, too strong, especially when blue light pulsed from his palm. Layla kicked and kicked some more until her legs fell limply over the edge of the bar.

  Which was when Liam returned to himself, returned to the sound of Layla’s pleasured moans beneath him—and the sudden pressure in the back of his brain. He closed his eyes against the pain, willed it to go away, but the pain fought back.

  He groaned—not in a good way—as he let go of Layla and slid back down onto the barstool, holding his head. The tingling was gone, as was the buzzing in his ears.

  Layla sat up, panting. “Liam, what—”

  The sound of shattering glass interrupted her as bottles along the bar exploded. The young bartender took cover as glass flew, but despite the headache and without even looking, Liam whispered words he didn’t know he knew. The flying shards of glass fell harmlessly on top of the bar, scattering like fallen snow.

  His headache disappeared.

  Layla knelt on the floor and reached out for him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he sprinted for the door.

  Although Max was right—he wouldn’t have been able to enter Sea Books with ill intent—Cyan still forbid Sybil from giving him tea or hospitality. She made him stand near the point of sales counter, and she stared at him until her parents arrived. Meanwhile, Sybil reverently touched the Plainacher family crystal ball and whispered to it. The occasional flashes of bright pink light lit the room from the tips of Sybil’s fingers until Cyan finally snapped, her eyes never leaving Max with his dark eyes and bald head.

  “Cut it out, would you?” she hissed.

  “You fought well last night,” Max said.

  Cyan pointed a finger in his direction but kept her distance. “Don’t fucking talk to me.”

  “Language,” Sybil whispered, cradling the crystal ball like a newborn babe, which was creepy really. The crystal ball itself was creepy. It wasn’t pretty inside like the ball Sybil usually used, filled with light purple amethyst. This ball was completely clear, suspended by what appeared to be a human hand made of copper. It reminded her of Thing from The Addams Family.

  “I don’t like that family heirloom. It’s freaking me out.”

  “It likes you,” Max said, folding his hands harmlessly in front of him.

  She held up the pendant around her neck. “Crystal balls can’t see me.”

  Max nodded toward Sybil. “That one can.”

  Before she could cuss him out, her parents barreled in the front door. The fact that her mother had put on shoes worried Cyan more than anything. Drake grabbed Max by his collar and pushed him against the counter so hard the cash register almost tumbled.

  “He’s not the Dorcha,” Sybil said calmly.

  “What?” Drake stood nose to nose with Max.

  “Where the…” Rue hurried to her sister’s side and put her hand on top of the Plainacher crystal ball. The see-through orb momentarily emitted a bright, white light before Rue took her hand away. “Grandmother’s.”

  Sybil lowered her chin as if in thought. “Max had it. He claims Grandmother gifted it to him, and I see no other way that he would have it.”

  Drake let go of Max, who didn’t waver. He still stood strong like a soldier. “Explain yourself, you son of a bitch,” Cyan’s father spat.

  “I’m here to help.” Max adjusted his dark suit to its proper alignment.

  “By attacking my daughter in the streets last night?”

  Max’s eyes moved to Cyan. “She knows I wasn’t really attacking. I was testing.”

  “Like you tested that exploding trolley on Broad Street,” she said.

  Max bowed his head. “That was also a test. Indeed.”

  Rue shoved past Cyan. “Tell me why Grandmother gave you our crystal ball.”

  “Because she trusted me.”

  Rue snickered. “We don’t trust dark witches in this family.”

  “I am no dark witch, Mrs. Burroughs.”

  “Bull shit,” Cyan said, and Rue didn’t even bat an eye over “language.”

  “I am a light witch.” He lifted his hand like a man taking a pledg
e. “I swear to you. Augusta Plainacher found me at a very difficult time in my life, following the death of my wife and child, murdered by dark witches to get at me. That was during my life in New Orleans when my name was Maximilian Laveau.”

  Sybil gasped, but Rue just crossed her arms. “You don’t look ‘Laveau’ to me, if you get my meaning.”

  Cyan did. Marie Laveau was one of the most famous voodoo priestesses—ever. She was also African American.

  Max nodded. “We changed our family name after Marie taught us all she knew as an homage to her amazing art.”

  “Voodoo ain’t exactly light magic,” Drake snarled.

  “True, but I only dabbled. I stuck to my light magic—which was why those dark witches knew to come for me. They knew I was not properly prepared. I heard about your great-grandmother,” he said to Cyan, “and mourning the loss of my family, I came here. She honed powers I didn’t know I possessed, which was why she entrusted the crystal ball to me—to keep watch over you.”

  Rue sighed. “Of course the family crystal ball would be able to see Cyan. Grandmother would have made it so.”

  Cyan’s fingers glowed gold in frustration, so she crossed her arms. “Can we back up a second? We just skimmed over the fact that this asshole killed a bunch of innocent people using a flying trolley as a weapon. Then, he basically shot fire at Liam and me last night. Care to explain all that, voodoo light witch man? Speaking of voodoo, you steal a corpse recently? I know your people are all into zombies.”

  No one moved to defend Max, so he took a long, slow breath. “People die in War.”

  “We’re not in War,” she said. “For the big War, you need a Loach and a Dorcha. I’m here, but if you’re not the Dorcha, who the hell is?”

  Max glared at her. “Liam Cody.”

  Cyan was finished with this man. She lifted her hand, palm filled with scalding gold, and was about to just lob his head right off, but Drake’s strong hand stopped her.

  “Explain,” her father said.

  “I not only kept an eye on you, Cyan. Your grandmother put a spell on that crystal ball. It would also come to life, no Craft required, when the Dorcha arrived in Charleston. When do you suppose that happened?”

  “A month ago,” Rue said.

  Max nodded. “I saw that boy as soon as he set foot on the peninsula.”

  “Which is why you hired him at the Bistro,” Rue continued.

  “Took some finagling on my part to make the timing right. Had to make a man sick, but like I said, War has extreme costs that I am willing to pay. However, as soon as I met Liam, I realized he had no idea what he was. But it would only be a matter of time, with you so close,” he nodded at Cyan, “before he started manifesting.”

  “His eyes are the same color,” Cyan said.

  “He wears contacts,” Max replied.

  “No, he…” She remembered, when he was sick, asking for help to the bathroom so he could wash up and change his contacts. Her chest tightened. “He does wear contacts.”

  “I tested him at the Bistro. Small things: knocking glasses over, pushing people down steps. Just my luck that he had excellent reflexes, but no sign of magic. When I met Zoe, I knew she was his pressure point.”

  “You killed her.” Sybil still cradled the crystal ball in her arms.

  “Only because Liam didn’t save her.”

  “Tell me you didn’t steal her corpse,” Drake said.

  “No, Mr. Burroughs, I had nothing to do with that.”

  “You killed a woman to test…” Cyan shook her head. She felt sick.

  “What I didn’t realize is that he needed you, Cyan, to increase his power—your proximity, as evidenced by last night.” He gestured to the cut on his face.

  “And Cyan needed Liam,” Rue said.

  Cyan looked back at her mother, whose face was tilted toward the floor as if her whole head weighed a hundred pounds. “He’s not the Dorcha,” Cyan said. “This is insane. No.” She pointed at her father. “You told me if Liam was the Dorcha, he’d have had a dark witch watching over him his whole life. He doesn’t have that. He doesn’t have anybody.”

  “She’s right,” Max said. “I haven’t solved that puzzle yet, but I know the young man has a darkness growing inside him—and I believe he is now aware of it.”

  “What makes you say that?” Rue asked.

  Max nodded at Sybil. “He’s disappeared from the crystal ball. He’s shielding himself, consciously or not. He knows he needs to hide.”

  “He can’t hide when I know where he lives,” Cyan said. She walked toward the door and didn’t have to look back to know her whole family followed. Before they could even step out onto Broad Street, though, she commanded Max to stay put.

  He bowed his head. “I’ll follow your orders to the end, Loach.”

  Liam closed the door behind him and leaned his back against it. His hands, although not glowing blue, tingled. He ran them down the sides of his jeans and walked shakily into the kitchen where he found Zoe calmly making sandwiches. She’d changed out of her black dress from the night before and now wore her usual attire: skinny jeans and a puffy, gray sweater that fell halfway off one shoulder. She smiled and extended a plate to him. “Did you say your goodbyes?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You need to keep your strength up.”

  He leaned over the sink and used his hand to scoop water into his mouth, washing the taste of Layla down the drain. He turned and looked at Zoe—beautiful Zoe—and said, “Why did we fall in love? I don’t remember.”

  She frowned. “Well. That’s not a very nice thing to say.” She tossed the sandwich and plate into the sink and walked quietly in stocking feet across the living room. “They’re coming for you now, by the way, and they know.” She lobbed him a sad little smile and disappeared into their bedroom, door closed securely behind her.

  “What?”

  The sound of a massive fist hitting thick wood echoed in the foyer. Without having to check, Liam knew that fist belonged to Drake Burroughs. He hurried to answer, because the Burroughs family cared about him. They would help him, comfort him, unlike the strange, unfamiliar Zoe who now walked around the shadowed edges of his life.

  Liam opened the door and found the hallway outside crowded with not only Drake but also Rue, Sybil, and Cyan, way in the back.

  “Hey,” Liam said.

  Drake moved to charge into his condo, but as soon as his foot lifted to cross the threshold, a floor-to-ceiling barrier of liquid pink appeared and threw him backwards into a wall. Liam stepped away, shocked, and then remembered what Drake said the night before…

  “Sybil. She did some protection spells, made it impossible for anyone who wants to harm you to come inside.”

  Liam stared at Drake, who’d recovered enough to stand straight. “What were you going to do to me, Drake?”

  No one spoke, but Rue studied the doorway for a moment before stepping forward with confidence. She had no trouble entering his condo, which surprised Liam: he always thought she’d be the one to curse and ask questions later.

  Instead, in her soft moccasins, she stood right in front of Liam and stared up into his face. “Show me.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Let me see, boy.”

  He used his forefinger to pluck the colored contact from his eye. He blinked and allowed her to see. “Please believe me: I didn’t know, Rue.”

  She nodded. Even though he knew she was gifted at keeping a stiff upper lip, her lip—this time—trembled.

  “What happens now?” he asked, hiding his blue eye again behind his green contact lens.

  Rue put one hand on his face, leaned in close, and said, “Hopefully. You die.”

  “But I…” His voice trembled.

  She shook her head. “You won’t be you much longer. The darkness will take over, and the Loach will take you down.” Her hand slid away from his face as she turned and walked for the door. “It was nice knowing you, Liam Cody.” She stepped b
eyond the threshold.

  Tears now running down his face, he looked to Cyan and said her name. She rushed around the corner of his building. He heard her boots running on the pavement as she left him.

  He didn’t wait for the rest of her family to leave. He closed the front door and leaned his back against it before sliding down and sitting on the floor, his head in his hands. He didn’t hear Zoe come near, but he felt her hands on his shoulders.

  “I told you she would turn her back on you.”

  He wanted Cyan to hold him—to have her hands on his shoulders.

  Zoe scoffed. “She’ll never touch you again.”

  “Get out of my head,” he whimpered.

  “You’re the thing she hunts.”

  “Can I… can I leave the house? Or will they be waiting for me out there?”

  Zoe’s hands massaged the back of his neck. “You underestimate me. The dark witches of Charleston have been watching you since we arrived, biding their time under my command. Now that War is imminent, they will not let anything happen to you. And let’s not forget: I’m much more powerful than I look.”

  “Will you teach me?”

  He looked up to find her smiling. “Most of it will come naturally, like your brawl with poor, sad Max. He’s a light witch, you know, hell bent on revenge. He looks forward to the War almost as much as I do.”

  Liam wiped tears from his cheeks. “Why would you look forward to War?”

  “I’ve had enough of the light witches. I’ve dealt with them for centuries.” She leaned her nose against his and breathed her words into his mouth. “I’m ready for dark witches to rule, my Dorcha, and we’ll rule together.” She kissed him. She tasted of wet soil and death, and he tried to pull away but she held tight to the back of his skull. “Don’t resist me, Liam. I’m all you have to guide you through this. You’ll fall apart without me. You love me.”

  “I don’t know who you are.”

  “I’m your queen. Forever.”

  As soon as she walked into Sea Books, gold, glittering light shot from Cyan’s palm and knocked over a bookshelf. Her father said her name, her mother shouted “Hypatia,” and Sybil said nothing. Max stood there, center of the room, holding a cup of tea. She punched him in the stomach.