by Juliet Dark
She said it as if I’d had a reccurrence of shingles or bedbugs.
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” I said defensively. “I’d still be spinning through space if Liam hadn’t pulled me back, and that wouldn’t have worked if he weren’t my true love.”
Liz clucked her tongue and started the car. “According to him, Callie!” she said, keeping her eyes on the road and grasping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “He’s enslaved you. Look at yourself. You’ve got so much Aelvesgold in your system that you’re glowing. He’s gotten you addicted to the stuff.”
“Oh, so now I’m an addict and a sex slave … Hey, wait a second, I’ve been using Aelvesgold under the direction of Duncan Laird, the tutor you got for me.”
A pained look crossed Liz’s face and she took her eyes off the road long enough to give me a doleful stare.
“You don’t think …?”
Liz turned her eyes back to the road but not before I saw her lip tremble. “I’m sorry, Callie, but yes, I think Duncan Laird is your incubus.”
“No,” I said, my stomach roiling. “You said he was recommended by a member of the circle …”
“Yes, but I’m afraid it’s possible that the circle member who recommended him might not have been acting with your best interests in mind.”
“Who …?” I began, thinking of Moondance’s obvious hostility and wondering if she had been the one to recommend Duncan, but Liz silenced me with a raised hand.
“I’d rather not say until I’ve verified my suspicions, but I think we have to consider the possibility that Mr. Laird might have been foisted on us under false pretenses.”
“But you checked his references personally.”
“Such things can be faked. I’m afraid now that I might not have been careful enough. Believe me when I say that the thought that I may have made the same mistake twice and put you in harm’s way again is deeply mortifying to me.”
Liz’s face, even in profile, was so pained that I had to look away. I looked out the window at the woods that lay to the west of Trask Road, into the deep shadows of the pines. The same woods where I’d roamed as a deer and an owl with Duncan Laird. I had felt an attraction to him—he was undoubtedly a handsome man—but when he’d tried to kiss me, the wards had prevented him.
“Duncan can’t be the incubus. My wards pushed him away.”
“That might be a trick, Callie.”
But it hadn’t just been the wards. “I pushed him away,” I said, turning back to Liz. “I wouldn’t let him kiss me.”
“Well,” Liz said with a tentative smile, “maybe you’ve finally developed some sense.”
I sighed. I’d very much like to agree with Liz that I was developing better judgment in my love life, but I doubted it. I had slept with Liam in Faerie and in my dreams. So why would I have any better judgment if Duncan were my incubus in the flesh?
I pondered in silence until we headed up Elm Street to my house.
“What are we going to do? Duncan Laird is coming over tonight. Should I still go ahead and transform with him? If he’s the incubus, it could be a trick.”
“It may indeed,” she said with a grim set to her lips. “I’m afraid that what Duncan’s been doing with you hasn’t unlocked your power …” She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. “What an idiot I’ve been! I’ve compromised your power just when we needed it the most—and Lorelei’s still on the loose.”
“Soheila didn’t find her at Lura’s house?” I asked.
“Lura wouldn’t let her in.”
“I could try talking to Lura,” I said. “She let me into her house before.”
“I think it’s better if you try to rest up. I have another idea of how to trap Lorelei. I’m going to ask the Stewarts to help.”
“The Stewarts?” I asked, remembering the plaid-shirted farmers at the diner and the guileless boy I’d met last night in the woods. “Do you mean Mac Stewart’s family?”
“Oh, so you’ve met him … a nice boy, although a bit thick. Yes, his father, Angus, and his brothers are part of an ancient order that has protected the woods for generations. I’ll coordinate their efforts … oh, hellfire!”
“Liz!” I’d never heard her swear before.
“Look!” We’d pulled up in front of my house but Liz was pointing across the street to the Hart Brake Inn, where a large black SUV was hulking like a malevolent water bug in the inn’s driveway. Three doors clicked open at the same time; two disgorged men in identical navy blue suits, both so tall and blond and similar in features they might have been twins. Each carried a long furled black umbrella. The third occupant of the car was a silver-haired woman dressed impeccably in a St. John knit suit and carrying an ox-blood Birkin bag.
My heart sank. “I didn’t know my grandmother was going to stay at the inn … It’s not exactly her style.”
“I didn’t know either. She must have made the reservation under a different name. Diana will be beside herself.”
We both watched in horror as my grandmother led the way up the path, glancing disdainfully at the ceramic gnome at the foot of the porch steps. She said something to one of the men and he touched the tip of his umbrella to the offending gnome. The red-capped figure began to vibrate, then rock back and forth on his stubby feet, then, with a high-pitched whine, he exploded.
In the car Liz flinched and cried out, “Oh no, poor Aethelready! He’s been with Diana since she moved to Fairwick.”
Adelaide brushed powdered plaster off her suit jacket and proceeded up the steps, followed by her gnome-smashing minions.
“I’d better help Diana cope with them,” Liz said, flustered. “Don’t worry about tonight. I’ll organize the plan to trap Lorelei. In the meantime, try to … um … fend off Duncan Laird, if you know what I mean.”
“I had no intention—” A bang from inside the inn made both of us jump.
“I really must be off,” Liz said.
I got out of the car and hurried up my front path, swooping up Mr. Rukowski and bringing him into the house.
“There you are,” I said putting the statue down in the foyer and locking the door. “You’ll be safe here.”
But would I? As Liz had pointed out, my threshold had been breached. I might already have let an incubus into my house. Who knew what else might be coming?
I hurried upstairs and into Liam’s old study to get a view of the inn. I caught sight of Diana hurrying out onto the porch with a basketful of bric-a-brac. Her face looked pinched and pale. A series of pops, crackles, and loud bangs from the house made her look over her shoulder. A trail of smoke wiggled out of a second-floor window.
Poor Diana. I’d always thought that the inn was too cluttered with bric-a-brac. Only now did it occur to me that the ceramic creatures might have greater significance to her. Why would Adelaide be getting rid of them if they didn’t have magical powers? It couldn’t be just because she was offended by the twee decor. Perhaps, like the gnome, they were guardians that protected Diana’s home and person. I recalled the way Liam brought home little tokens from the forest—round river stones, twisted bits of wood, birds’ feathers—and lined the windowsills with them. Had he been weaving a protection spell?
I looked around the empty room, running my hand along the windowsills. I crouched on the floor to check for loose floorboards.
“Are you looking for something?”
My hand jerked at the unexpected voice and I jammed a splinter into my finger. Looking up, I found Bill standing in the doorway gazing down at me, his cap, even indoors, pulled low over his eyes.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” he said, crouching in front of me and taking off his cap. “I thought you knew I was up here painting the ceiling. Let me see that splinter. I’m good at getting them out, seeing as I’m always getting them myself.”
I laid my hand in his wide cupped palm, where it fit as snugly as a bird in a nest, and felt a swell of warmth that made me dizzy. It must be exhaustio
n from today’s circle or the pain of the splinter, which Bill was now prodding with blunt calloused fingertips—only it wasn’t really pain. The current of sensation his touch released felt a lot more like desire. The feeling was so overwhelming that I let out a little moan.
“Sorry,” he said.
“It’s all right! It’s my own fault!” I squeaked, trying to mask my reaction to Bill’s touch. I must still be under the effects of Aelvesgold. Liz was right. It was making me attracted to my handyman … who really was quite handsome, I thought, getting my first good look at him with his cap off. He had beautiful eyes—the color of leaves in autumn or aged brandy flecked with gold …
“Why your fault?” Bill asked.
“Oh … I was checking the planks for hiding places like I was Nancy Drew or something. My … um … boyfriend stayed in this room last winter and I thought he might have left something behind.”
“You mean like a note?” he asked, his gaze bent down, his fingertips deftly stroking my finger … which made me wonder what it would feel like to have those fingertips stroke other parts of my body.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said, shaking off the image of Bill’s hands on me. “It was a silly idea, though. He had to leave … in a hurry. He wouldn’t have had time to leave a note.”
“Unless he knew he might have to leave suddenly,” Bill said. “Then maybe he’d have hidden a note somewhere. I’ll keep an eye out if you like … There. It’s out.”
I looked down and saw a half-inch of jagged wood tipped with blood squeezed between Bill’s thumb and forefinger. “Wow, I really skewered myself!” I exclaimed, looking into Bill’s eyes, eyes full of compassion, and something more. Longing.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said, still looking into my eyes.
“It doesn’t hurt a bit now …” I said, leaning toward him. An inch farther and our lips would touch … but then my cell phone, which was in my pocket, chimed, startling us both.
“Oh,” I said, feeling as though I’d been woken from a dream. “I suppose I should get that.”
“Sure,” Bill said, dropping my hand. “Just make sure you put something on that. Those kinds of wounds can fester.”
“Uh huh … I will …” I said, blushing as I retrieved my phone from my pocket. There was a text from Duncan.
The Grove has descended, he had written. We need one more transformation to free your power. I’ll be there before dark.
TWENTY-TWO
Is something wrong?” Bill asked.
He was still crouched beside me, brow furrowed, a look of concern in his kind brown eyes. What a nice guy, I thought, immediately followed by I have to get rid of him. Liz had said to stay away from Duncan but I had a better idea.
“No, it’s just … that was my … um, advisor. He needs to speak to me about a project.”
“Your advisor? Is that the guy who was here before … the one with the messy hair? Sort of snooty-looking?”
I laughed at Bill’s description of Duncan Laird. “That’s him. He’s … Scottish,” I added, as if that explained the snooty look. “But yeah, he said this was important … so I’m afraid …”
“Oh, I see.” Bill got to his feet. “You want me to clear out.”
“It’s just that I’m afraid we’ll be in your way …” I stood up, too, and put my hand on Bill’s elbow. Then took it off again when I felt another jolt of raw heat and desire. “I really do appreciate how hard you’ve been working on the house. I can’t thank you enough,” I said, my embarrassment making the words come out stilted and formal.
“You don’t have to thank me at all, Ms. McFay,” he said stiffly, picking up on my tone. “It’s my job. Shall I come back first thing in the morning … or maybe not quite first thing?”
I bristled at the implication that I might have company that early. “First thing will be fine, Bill,” I replied, matching his formality.
He nodded, put on his baseball cap, and turned to go. I bit my lip to keep from calling him back to apologize for kicking him out. I waited until I heard the front door close and then watched him drive away in his truck. I felt rotten about going all “lady of the manor” on him, but I didn’t want an audience for what I had planned.
I’d lay a trap for Duncan and find out for sure if he was the incubus. It bothered me that I couldn’t tell. If we were true lovers, as Liam had said in my dream, shouldn’t I have swooned in his arms? I certainly shouldn’t be falling into my handyman’s arms.
I headed for the bath off my bedroom to take a quick shower before Duncan arrived. I needed to look my best. Shucking off jeans and T-shirt in my closet I heard a clink as my jeans hit the floor. The Aelvestone rolled out of my pocket. I knelt down and picked it up. It pulsed in my hand like something alive. I’d already absorbed too much Aelvesgold from the spell circle, but I couldn’t resist closing my hand around it.
A wave of warmth swept through my body and buckled my knees. I sank to the closet floor, my back cushioned by a soft quilted suitcase that held winter sweaters and scarves. I let my head sink back onto the bag, the smell of wool and lavender bringing back memories of being little and hiding in my mother’s closet.
I was five or six, small enough that I could fit in the space between suitcases. There were lots of suitcases because we were always going places. That’s because my mother and father went to faraway places to dig things up—wonderful treasure they sometimes brought back for me, like brightly colored beads and globby coins with smushed-in faces. Sometimes I went with them but sometimes they left me with Grandmother. I didn’t like that. Grandmother always looked at me as if I might be about to explode all over her white couch, which made me feel like I might throw up. She never touched me. This was supposed to be one of those times when they left me. The car to take me away was outside waiting, but if they couldn’t find me then maybe they would send it away and I could go with them instead. I heard them calling my name, making a game of it like they always did, my daddy calling “Kay” and my mommy calling “Lex,” but then they stopped right in the middle of my name and I heard my father say, “I hate her going there as much as she does. One of these times Adelaide is going to notice …?”
“There’s nothing to notice. She’s been warded.”
“That’s another thing. That can’t be good for her, having all those locks and binds on her spirit. It’s like she’s been caged up. Sometimes, Katy, I swear she looks at me like she’s lost. What if she has gotten lost? What if she’s lost now …”
I heard my father’s voice crack, and I couldn’t hide anymore, even if it meant going to my grandmother’s.
“Here I am!” I cried. “I’m not lost …”
“I’m not lost, I’m not lost …” I woke in the closet, murmuring the words to myself. The Aelvestone lay on the floor by my side. How long had I held it? It had taken me into some kind of fugue state. Into some part of my past … my mother saying I had been warded. My parents had known about the wards on me!
I picked up the stone. It throbbed against my hand like a trapped animal. Like she’s been caged up … My father had sounded scared. As if I might be in danger. Then why hadn’t they removed the wards? I shoved the stone into the suitcase with my winter sweaters.
In the bathroom I looked longingly at my deep claw-foot tub, but I didn’t think it was a good idea to surround myself with that much water.
She’s been warded … I heard my mother’s words again as I stepped into the shower. Strange. I had very few memories from my childhood of my parents beyond the stories they read me at bedtime. That had been the time I’d loved best, nestled between them in bed, their voices alternating as they took turns telling stories about fairies, princesses, wizards, and magic …
She’s been warded …
It’s like she’s been caged up … like she’s lost …
My parents’ words seemed to float on the steam that writhed around me. Feeling skittish, I didn’t linger. I toweled off and then put on a rose-scented skin lotion that Lia
m had liked and a slinky blue jersey dress that he had loved. When I put it on—for the first time since he’d left—I could almost feel his hands on me. Catching my eye in the mirror I asked myself what I would do if Duncan were the incubus. Would I really send him back to Faerie?
I looked away and slipped the emerald-and-diamond ring Liam had given me onto my right ring finger. Then I went downstairs and straightened the library, plumping the couch cushions and picking up several books from the floor that Ralph, who had taken to hiding in the bookcases lately, had knocked over. I picked up Fraser’s Demonology, which had fallen open at a woodcut of a winged creature with nasty claws that made me shudder, and reshelved it. Then I picked up Wheelock’s Spellcraft from the coffee table and turned to the chapter “Magical Disguises and How to Uncover Them.” It was divided into three sections (Wheelock, and all witches, I was discovering, had a thing for threes): a) Disguises for Self-Protection; b) Disguises for Sexual Uses; and c) Wards.
Wards? I hadn’t realized they could be used as disguises.
I read on.
It is this author’s belief that sometimes it may be necessary to hide one’s true identity to survive an attack from an enemy. Therefore the wards of disguise are included here to be used as a means of protection in life-threatening situations only. The author disavows responsibility for any other uses. If these terms are agreeable, please depress the author indemnity icon below.
I flipped the page and saw that the next several pages were blank. Then I flipped back to what Wheelock called the author indemnity icon. It was a tiny picture of a closed book surrounded by a spoked circle. Small print below it explained that by touching the icon I agreed to the terms stipulated above and that I would not hold the author responsible for any mishaps attached to the use of the following wards and spells. There was some even smaller print below that I would have had to get a magnifying glass to read, but I was impatient to find out about these wards of disguise. Pressing the icon was like checking the “Agree to Terms” box on the internet, I figured. Whoever read the full text?
