Spellbound

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “They want to give me a soul, Gramma, and then they’ll rip it out,” Charlotte mumbled crazily. “I can feel it in my bones, eating, chewing. Crunch. They want to make me forget, but I see what they’re doing. I see. They can’t have my soul. I hid it where they will never find it.”

  Jane slowly backed away as Annabelle helped Charlotte inside the house. The ghosts turned to face the home as if to stand vigil. Jane used their distraction as her chance to escape down the side of the hill. The last thing she wanted was to be followed home.

  Chapter 12

  “What do ya think ya are doing?” Iain demanded in anger. He wanted to chase after Jane. Actually, he wanted to shift into bird form so he could fly after her. But knew he needed to deal with his family first. “Never in my life have I been so ashamed of my family.”

  “We can’t trust her,” his ma answered. She looked frail and weak, but he knew better. He’d see the power shoot out of her hand. Jane had seen it too. It was careless of his ma to let magick slip in front of an outsider.

  Niall sighed and pushed up from the table. “I’ll go after her and erase what she saw.”

  Iain put out his hand. “No. Ya will not touch her.”

  “Ya know what must be done, son,” Angus said. He placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Niall will be gentle, but her memory must be erased.”

  “So she ends up like Charlotte?” Iain shook his head in denial. “Shall we place the two of them in the garden with Helena—a whole statuary of those we’ve failed?”

  “I have footage of Charlotte standing on her lawn for three hours in the middle of the night, doing nothing but staring at the road.” Euann averted his eyes and concentrated a little too hard on his fingertip. “It’s like she’s forgotten how to do everything.”

  “Charlotte was different. We took away her trauma. No one should have to live with what happened to her. Time will fill the gaps she’s missing,” Niall stated. “Charlotte is not Helena.”

  “Why would ya have footage of Lydia’s house?” Cait asked.

  “Erik told me to include it in our security,” Euann answered.

  “We’re warlocks,” Iain said in exasperation. “We don’t need footage. We need instinct, and my instinct says we do not need to erase Jane’s memory. She poses no threat to us.”

  “Are ya sure it’s your instinct ya are talking about, Iain?” Euann chuckled.

  “She is dangerous.” Margareta pushed to her feet.

  “How?” Iain demanded. “What has she done that is so dangerous?”

  “I can’t say yet, but I know something is not right. The memories are coming back slowly.” Margareta narrowed her eyes at her son. “But my feelings are not wrong. There is death in her, and that death does not have pure intentions.”

  “I trust her,” Iain stated.

  “You’re spellbound by her,” his ma countered. The others stayed abnormally quiet, watching the ensuing argument.

  “I’m in love with her!” Iain shouted. He grabbed a tomato slice and shoved it into his mouth. Talking while he chewed, he said, “And she is not trying to kill us.”

  “Iain—” Margareta reached for him as if she’d make him spit the food out.

  Iain dodged the narrow stream of magick aimed at his stomach. It hit the wall behind him with a small pop. He swallowed. “See, I’m fine. No poison. No ill intention. Not even pesticides. The tomato is a tomato. Jane is just Jane. And whether she will still consider me or not after how my family has treated her, I am hers.”

  “Iain,” Cait said, trying to sound soft and reasonable. He knew better. Cait was powerful in her own right. “Your ma is not wrong. There is something off about her life line. It’s jagged. I’ve only seen the mark in those who have beaten death, and never so many on one hand. Either she’s a survivor of some horrific circumstance or she’s more than she seems.”

  “No one questioned Erik’s choice.” Iain took a deep breath. He loved his family, but he knew his feelings for Jane were real. “Why don’t ya trust me?”

  “Ya need to trust your family,” Margareta said.

  “I do trust my family,” Iain answered, frustrated.

  “Iain, there’s more. Her hand. The cut I healed was not the first. I think she is working blood magick. Ya know she’s a natural green witch because she has a talent for growin’ things. Who knows how far those talents go or what she truly cultivates in those gardens of hers. This is your life, laddie. She admitted to being sick as a child. Perhaps someone taught her how to survive—to really survive.”

  Blood magick? Cheating death? Iain didn’t want to believe it. He trusted his family, knew them to be powerful and smart, but he felt what he felt. “I know what a spell feels like. What I feel is not a spell.”

  “What makes ya say you’re in love, laddie?” his da asked.

  “I feel something when I am near her. I feel her energy. It’s like the plants in the garden waiting to feed my powers without asking for anything in return. When I touch her, I hear bagpipes. When I smell her, I feel the wind inside me. Surely that is love? My entire body hums to life. My heart quickens. I’m more powerful. I even froze time with the mere thought of wanting to be with her.” Iain wanted desperately to explain. He needed them to understand. He wanted his family to like Jane, to see her how he did—well, not exactly like he did. “And not just a petrifying spell. I froze everything. Even birds. And they did not fall from the sky like stones either. When I’m with her, time stops.”

  “Could she have amplified your powers on purpose?” his ma asked, though it really wasn’t a question. “If ya were spellbound, would ya be able to tell?”

  “Ya think ya care for her. Spells can be tricky like that.” Cait held out her hands, palms up. A soft glow radiated from her fingertips. “But spells can also bring clarity.”

  “What do ya mean?” Iain asked.

  “A test,” Cait said, cupping one hand under the other. “One simple test that should tell us all we need to know.”

  “What kind of test?” Iain frowned.

  “A potion.” A small blue bottle formed in Cait’s palm. “Get her to drink it, but make sure she takes the whole thing. I tried a few drops when she arrived with the naked brigade, but it had little effect on her.”

  Iain understood natural magick, but mixing potions traditionally fell more to the females of his family. “What will it do to her?”

  “It will reveal the truth.” Cait stepped forward, presenting the bottle for him to take. “The real trick is going to be in getting her to drink it. Usually to work a few drops can be hidden in hard liquor, but this is a whole bottle. Ya are going to have to be creative, Iain.”

  Iain frowned. He could just imagine what his aunt meant by creative. “I won’t force it down her throat.”

  “I’ll do it,” Niall said, resignedly. “And I will erase the memory after. It will be done by morning light.”

  “Just…” Iain held up a hand in warning to his brother. “Stop. Always with the magickal cleanup. You’re not force feeding or erasing anyone.”

  “Someone in this family has to clean up the messes. I don’t see ya volunteering to do what must be done,” Niall muttered with just a touch of bitterness. He swiped a bottle of unopened wine from the table. “I’ll be in the garden. Let me know when my services are required.”

  “Laddie,” Angus said to Iain. “The family needs to know her intentions. If ya do not have the stomach to give her the potion, let one of us handle it for ya. Your ma is rarely—”

  Margareta hit her husband on the chest.

  “—is never mistaken,” Angus corrected without missing a beat.

  “No. I’ll do it.” He finally took the bottle from Cait. Better he than his family. Heat radiated against his fingers. “If this is the only way to prove to ya she does not mean us harm, I’ll see to it.”

  “It’s the right thing,” Angus assured him.

  “Remember she needs to drink it all or it won’t work,” Cait instructed. />
  “Be ready to fight,” his ma warned. “She might not want ya to see what she is hiding.”

  “I have nothing to fear from Jane.” Iain lifted the bottle. “And I will prove it to ya.”

  “Take care, laddie,” Margareta said. “Death wears many faces and does not like to lose.”

  Chapter 13

  “Jane?” Iain knocked on the nursery building’s front door. He knew it was late, or early depending on what day you thought it was, but he had to see her. He’d tried to take a walk, to wait for a decent hour, but the potion bottle in his pocket was a hot little reminder of what he was expected to do. Was he bound by a spell? Was his judgment so wrong when he was with her? He trusted his family. Yet what he felt when he stood near Jane was…magickal. Pure magick. Not a spell. Not a trick. Magick—natural, raw, primal. He was sure of it. “Jane, are ya there?”

  “Iain?” A sleepy Jane appeared on the other side of the glass door. Her pajama pants and T-shirt were wrinkled, matching her disheveled hair. She yawned and scratched her hip. “What are you doing here?”

  Guilt filled him at the very sight of her. A man did not call upon a lady at this hour. What was he doing? He didn’t want to give her the potion. It didn’t matter how valid of a point his family made, he trusted Jane. If he were under a spell, he wanted to stay that way—under her complete control.

  “I won’t hurt ya,” he said, desperate that she should know that. “I need to explain what happened. I know ya must be frightened by my ma, but—”

  “Iain, what are you doing here?” She reached for the lock, turning the key she’d left in the inside latch. “Did something happen?” She pushed the door open, and a little bell jingled. “Oh, no, you’re here to fire me, aren’t you? I don’t suppose if I apologized for leaving dinner abruptly it would change your mind?”

  “I trust ya,” Iain said.

  “Ah, okay?” She scratched her temple. Her fingers paused on her head, and she instantly began smoothing down the tangled locks as if just realizing how she’d answered the door. “Does that mean I’m not fired?”

  He took her hand from her head and held it in his. “Your beauty could make a rose blush.”

  “Are you…drunk?” Jane frowned and pulled her hand back. “Do you need a couch to pass out on?”

  “Please, don’t be frightened of me. I’m sure ya have questions. I can give ya answers,” Iain said.

  “I’m not frightened,” Jane answered. “I’m half-asleep and confused.”

  “I know seeing light shoot from my ma’s hand like that must have been very confusing for ya, but it is going to be all right. We MacGregors are just normal people, well, almost normal, well, not normal at all but—”

  Jane stiffened. “Wait, you saw the light come from her hand? I didn’t hallucinate that? That was real?”

  “Aye. Magick is real. We’re warlocks,” Iain stated.

  “Hallucinations and ghosts and now warlocks,” she muttered. “Why not?”

  “Ghosts?” He glanced over her shoulder but didn’t see any spirits around her.

  She shook her head in dismissal of his question. “Am I crazy, or did you just say you were a warlock?”

  “Aye. I’m a warlock.”

  “And magick is real?”

  “Aye.”

  “And you’re a warlock?”

  Iain nodded.

  “A magickal warlock?”

  “Aye,” Iain said. “I’m a magickal warlock.”

  “And I’m not hallucinating right now.”

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “And I’m awake?”

  “Aye.”

  This was not the eloquent conversation he’d rehearsed on his way to her house. In fact, though he’d intended to tell her the truth, he hadn’t intended to tell her the entire truth—at least not at first. The more she knew, the more Niall would insist on erasing her memory.

  She took a couple of deep breaths. “Huh. All right, continue.”

  Her reaction was highly underwhelming.

  “Are ya…in shock?” he wondered out loud.

  Jane slowly shook her head in denial and bit her bottom lip in thought. “No. Not really. Why not a warlock? It makes sense in some ways. And I now understand some of the things your uncles have said.”

  “I’m a warlock. I do magick. Not magic trick magic like they do in Vegas, but the old magick. I…” He released her hand and held his palms together, creating a small electrical ball of energy.

  Jane pushed his hands together and glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, maybe you should come inside before someone sees that.”

  She pulled him behind her into the dark nursery store front before locking the door behind them. Without pause, she led the way across the store to an open door. A narrow staircase went upstairs to her apartment. She slid her hand along the rail as went up, giving small pulls with each step as if to help her tired legs move.

  “How are ya not terrified right now?” Iain followed her, confused. Even though he wanted her to be comfortable with who he was, he found himself saying, “I mean, I’m a warlock. I can kill ya with a flick of my fingers. I can magickally entrance ya, so ya have no will of your own. I can throw energy balls at ya. I can levitate ya and throw ya out the window. I can—”

  Jane laughed. “I don’t think you would have come here to tell me you’re a warlock if you intended to kill me and wreck my home.”

  “How are ya not having a panic attack right now?” Iain barely looked around the small apartment except to get the vague impression of homey comforts—older furniture, knitted blankets, woven rugs on unpolished wooden floors. It felt like her. “Do ya not believe me?”

  “Would it make you feel better if I had a panic attack?” Jane sat on the couch and suppressed a small yawn. “I mean, it’s almost four in the morning and a little early for a panic attack, but I can try to muster up the energy to fake one.”

  “Have ya met my kind before?” he asked. “Is that why you’re not surprised?”

  “If you’re going to stand here being all shocked by my easy nature, do you mind if I head back to bed? We can resume this in a few hours if you like. I had a long day and more work tomorrow. Unless you are here to fire me, in which case you better make it five hours because I might sleep in.”

  “No. I want ya to do the gardens if that is still what ya want. They seem to please ya.”

  “Then I’ll be at work tomorrow.” She didn’t move.

  “There is no reason for ya to go without sleep to do them. Sleep in if that is your wish.”

  Jane gave a small smile at the offer. “Was there anything else?”

  His heart beat faster and his breathing deepened. Iain wanted to tell her everything. Instinct told him he could trust her. His heart told him he loved her. But his family’s words circled in his head, keeping him from confessing his full feelings. Perhaps that was for the best, as he might scare her away if he moved too fast. What did he know about being in love—really in love? This was new territory for him. If he came on too strong, he might lose her.

  Or was this a spell? What if they were right? What if what he was feeling wasn’t real?

  His heart squeezed in his chest. The very idea caused a wave of pain inside him.

  “My family moved here from New York,” he said, trying to remember what he’d planned on telling her. Though, at this point there was hardly any reason to ease her in to the truth. She was taking the news of magick better than anyone he’d ever seen.

  Iain touched his pocket, feeling the warmth of the potion. Did her lack of reaction mean she’d already known what he was? Should he simply ask her to drink it? Even in his own mind, asking a woman to drink a strange liquid in the middle of the night sounded sketchy.

  “I seem to recall hearing that.” Jane braced her elbow on the arm of the couch and leaned into her hand. “It’s an abrupt segue in conversation, but all right, I’m following.”

  “We move around a great deal, every twenty years or so.
That’s quite a bit for us, maybe not for mortals. The city was nice for blending into the crowds, but it lacks nature. That’s why we’re here. For the nature.” Iain placed his hand on his hips but felt too much like a dictator, so he crossed them over his chest. Her steady eyes were on him, watching. Nerves bunched up his stomach and made his limbs tingle.

  “So you moved for a change of scenery. I hear city folk do that,” she prompted.

  Why was she so calm? Iain began to pace. “No, no, we need nature. It fuels our powers. Without it, we wither. Here we can take from the forest as a whole rather than kill a single tree. We live in peace with nature because it gives us life. It’s like we plug in to it and…and…light up.” Iain let his body glow briefly.

  “You’re a walking Christmas light?”

  “No,” he said a little defensively. “I’m a powerful warlock. I’ve lived for hundreds of years.” Realizing he sounded like a petulant child, he dropped his arms to the side and took a deep breath.

  That seemed to register with her, and she shifted to a more attentive position on the couch. Finally, a reaction. Now he could ease her into his arms and comfort her fears like he’d first planned.

  “You look good for being hundreds of years old,” she said.

  So much for easing fears. Iain sighed again, louder.

  “You were saying, you plug into trees like a light bulb,” Jane prompted when he didn’t readily continue. “I’ve heard of potatoes being used to conduct electricity, but never a tree. Please go on. This is all very fascinating.”

  “I’m not a potato.” Why wasn’t this conversation going well? Did one of his brothers cast a spell on him to take away all his charm? Euann would think such a thing was hilarious. He took a deep breath, hoping he’d sound more intelligent if he slowed his words. “It’s power, not electricity. And it’s not always nature. Sexual energy can give a rush though it’s more of a surge rather than a steady stream. An orgasmic rush.”

  Jane pushed up from the couch and stood before him. Bloody hell, the woman was beautiful. And he was an idiot babbling about light bulbs. The soft lamplight caressed her cheek, falling along her neck as she moved. She mesmerized him. She didn’t need makeup or glamorous attire. Her messy hair and nighttime clothing were more seductive than anything he’d seen in his life. She was just Jane, simple, perfect Jane.