by Ann Macela
“I guess we reached our limit,” Marcus said and nudged the magazine with a finger to make sure it hadn’t glued itself to the table. “Our talents don’t run to more than lifting a feather. No matter. The only thing I ever really wanted to levitate to bring it to me was the TV remote.”
“What if…?” Gloriana was staring off into space.
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking about our merged lightball that shows a higher combined power than we have individually. Maybe we’re not going about the process right.”
“Okay, let’s try a combined effort.” He scooted his chair around next to hers and put his arm around her. “Concentrate and activate on the count of three. One, two, three.”
They cast simultaneously, and all of the pages riffled up and down as if through a reader’s fingers, but the magazine itself didn’t move.
“More power,” he said, mentally reaching into his center and feeding energy steadily to the book.
The object sluggishly rose, a wobbling movement that stopped about four inches up. A slight hum droned in the background.
“Okay,” she said after a few seconds, “I can feel my energy flowing toward the magazine, and that’s normal. What’s weird is, I can feel yours, too.”
He studied his power output and its target, then hers. “You’re right. I can almost ‘see’ another stream coming from you.”
“Can we combine energy, so there’s only one stream?”
“Good idea. Our power combines in the big lightball. Why not here?” At the suggestion, his center seemed to perk up and gather his increased energy into a tight formation. “I’m going to try to direct my energy to you. See if you can channel all of it toward the book. One, two, three.”
She jumped slightly. “Oh. I can feel your surge. Wow, what a feeling. I’m tingling all over. If I can increase the power …”
The hum grew in volume, and the magazine rose another two inches. Marcus fed more energy to her, and the book elevated another inch.
“I’m cutting power,” Gloriana said after about thirty seconds. “Constant output is exhausting, and I can feel my power quantity diminishing.”
Marcus ceased his energy projection also, and the magazine fell with a small thud. “How do you feel?”
“Tired but exhilarated. It was easy to combine our energies. Made me feel like I could cast almost any spell with that amount of power behind me.”
“Power …” An idea was suddenly hovering in the air, right before his eyes. What was he seeing? He stared at the magazine for a moment. What had she said about power quantity? The answer practically hit him in the head. “Oh, it’s been right there in front of us from the beginning.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“We’ve been going about calibration all wrong. Think about energy and the amount you have. I’ve been assuming, as I think others have, that we needed to specify exactly how much power to apply to a spell. What if we don’t have to assign a finite value? What if we don’t have to say, ‘expend X amount of ergs or dynes or amps or volts or some other specific measure’?”
The rightness of his questions resonated inside him, exactly like the solution to an equation did, and he eagerly followed them to the next logical step. “What if… What if each practitioner defines his amount of power for himself? When I pushed my lux to a higher level after our mating, what I’ve always considered to be the ‘well,’ the container, of power in my center expanded like crazy. I could actually feel it grow. What if we think of our energy resource like a well or a box or another sort of container?”
“Oh, that’s interesting,” she said, and he could see the idea take hold in her mind. “Since a person’s amount of power is finite and varies by level and individual, and you know or can feel intuitively how much you have, how much you’re using, and what’s left, then …”
He grinned at her in triumph. “We can speak in generalities, percentages, instead of absolutes. That woman at the first debate asked how much a cup of power was. You don’t have to work according to someone else’s scale. It’s your cup. You used percentages to describe your casting process for strength when you explained it to me. I used them, measuring against percentages of my own cup when learning the spell, only I didn’t realize it.”
“Aha!” She poked him in the chest.
“What?”
“See, you do use intuition in casting! You can’t do it all by the numbers.”
He thought about that, looked at her grinning mouth, and kissed it. “I surrender. You’re right.”
“So are you. I’m thinking these days in formulaic terms. I have all these math symbols and ideas in my dreams.”
“That’s funny. I’m looking at plants more carefully. I even tried to cast a growth spell on my ivy plant before we mated. Didn’t work, but something—my intuition?—compelled me to try it.”
“Looks like the soul-mate phenomenon is merging more than our lightballs—maybe our talents, too. Why don’t we head for some plants and try out some spells?”
They spent the day in a greenhouse full of herbs working on casting and energy sharing—with only mixed success. When he was directing energy, Marcus couldn’t make a plant grow, even in combination with Gloriana. He could and did push some of his mathematical spells to his new level. She, however, could cause even greater growth when channeling the energy from him.
Antonia came out to see what they were up to, and after trying a few spells, she became enthusiastic for the idea of a power well of the practitioner’s making.
Her mother also noticed something—when the two of them were casting together, concentrating on the same object, and touching each other, their individual spell auras coalesced into one. Usually practitioners couldn’t see their own auras, which stuck close to the caster’s body, while family members could. In their case, however, neither Marcus nor Gloriana could see each other’s aura, even though Antonia said the combined aura extended some inches from their bodies.
Although the aura combination made sense, given the energy sharing and their merged lightballs, where it might lead was another question to which they had no answer. Furthermore, Marcus had no idea how that fact or the reality of it might be incorporated into the equation. He’d expected the need for a number of equations, but it looked like the amount would grow exponentially.
Man, spell-casting got more and more complicated, the deeper they investigated it.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
As they were leaving the house for dinner, another call came from John. “I don’t think you have to worry about it, but Walcott left for Texas. He could be simply going home to Waco. He’s found out about the censure, and if he has any smarts at all, he’ll go to ground and not stick his head up. We’re on our way in a High Council plane to pick him up and deliver him to the council for their actions.”
“Do we need to do something actively?” Marcus asked.
“No,” John replied, “Keep an eye out and call if he shows up. I suggest refusing to talk to him. He’s only going to spew more of his usual rantings.”
“Okay,” Gloriana said. “We’ll throw him off the property.”
Marcus and Gloriana relayed the news to their parents at dinner, and everybody agreed to be on watch. Other than that, what could they do? So they turned to their attention to their spell-casting ideas. Soon lightballs and mathematical and physics equations were flying around the room.
After dinner, Gloriana sat back and watched the interplay. Marcus’s parents had certainly loosened up under her family’s influence. Stefan and Alaric were comparing the differences between displaying computations in the air—Stefan’s and Marcus’s method—versus highlights on paper as Alaric did in his auditing. Judith and Antonia were using glasses and bowls for visual aids to determine “well size.”
She, however, was pooped, and Marcus was looking somewhat tired, so she announced, “I’ve had enough casting for one day. Y’all keep going. I need to che
ck on something at my jungle.”
“I’ll go with you,” Marcus said.
The parents said good night and quickly resumed their spell discussions.
“Do you really have to check on the jungle?” Marcus asked as they walked to his car. “And thanks, by the way, for getting us out of there.”
“Yes, I do need to check on a setting. One of the pumps has been acting up. I meant to do it earlier, but we got involved in the spells. By the way, where are the dogs? I haven’t seen them since before dinner.”
“They’re around somewhere, I’m sure. The last time I saw them, they were headed in the direction of your house. I’ll drive by there first.”
They got into the car and started down the road. Gloriana snuck a glance at him. He’d certainly relaxed over the past few days. Oh, he remained intense when he looked at her, thank goodness. She still got a thrill from exchanging gazes. He and his parents appeared to be mending fences and making up for lost time, although she thought he might be still on the lookout for disapproval.
One indication of his relaxation was his changing the car’s radio station. Thank goodness. George Strait was preferable to that jazz he usually had on—although she was beginning to develop an appreciation for it. Yet another change in her thinking and preferences.
She was wondering idly what other alterations, besides those already identified, the phenomenon was making in both of them when she realized he was singing along with the radio. The station was playing “Can I Trust You With My Heart.” There was a song she could relate to. She started singing, too, and he reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the back of her fingers.
The song ended as they came to her house. He slowed the car, and they saw Samson and Delilah lying together on the welcome mat. The dogs looked up and didn’t move otherwise. “Okay, they’re fine,” he said and pointed the vehicle toward her jungle.
Once through the two doors and inside the glass structure, she turned on the dim, ground-level lights that outlined the path through the growth.
“Whoa, spooky,” he said, looking up. “I can barely see the treetops and only because the moon’s shining through the glass. I’m glad you don’t have man-eating animals in here.”
She laughed. She’d forgotten that he hadn’t been in the jungle in the dark. “Only Sassy’s lurking on his branch. Remember Clay’s toy? The control room is over here.”
She led him around one bend and behind the trees and bushes on the outer wall side of the computerized python’s clearing. She hit the switch when they entered, and the bright illumination was jarring.
“I suppose I could have cast lux, but to be honest, I’m tired of casting,” she said. “The only other bright lighting in the building is at the cabana. I wanted to leave the rest as jungle-like as possible.”
“You certainly did that. If you hadn’t showed me, I’d never have found my way here, light or no light,” he replied and pointed to an object on the table. “What’s that?”
“What? Oh, that’s the remote control for Sassy.”
“Can I try it?” He picked it up.
“Sure. I’ll be finished here in a couple of minutes.”
He picked up the implement and went back into the plant area. When she completed her adjustments, he reappeared.
“I played a little too vigorously, I’m afraid, and he slithered so far he fell off the branch. Where’s a stepladder?”
They put Sassy on his perch and the ladder and remote control back in their places. When she shut off the lights in the control room, she said, “I need to check the connection in back of the cabana, and we’re done.”
They followed the path around two more bends to the open area. She flicked the switches on a post holding up the palm-frond roof to turn on the waterfall and pool lights and manipulated the dimmer until only a soft glow illuminated the cabana. She went behind it and checked on the pumps residing inside their cabinetry while he walked around, looking at the waterfall and the plants.
When she came out of the pump room, he stepped up onto the cabana deck.
“What’s this plant?” he asked, pointing to a pot with a small, fuzzy-leafed, purple-blossomed plant on one of the small tables by the double chaise. “Why isn’t it out with the rest of them?”
“That’s an African violet I rescued from one of my friends. It doesn’t like much water. I was taking it to another greenhouse but forgot it when I got sidetracked by the pump the other day …”
Her voice trailed off as she looked at him and her mind took off on a different tangent entirely. It was still hard to believe that he was hers. She had no problem being absolutely certain she was his, but the reverse continued to surprise her. When he returned her gaze, she could feel the pull between them. The last thing she wanted to talk about at the moment was plants. They were alone here. Why not take advantage of it?
Swinging her hips more than usual, she sauntered over to him and ran her hands up his chest and around his neck. He immediately put his arms around her and pulled her close.
Pitching her tone low and sultry, she asked, “Ever made love in a jungle?”
“Not till now.” His blue eyes twinkled, and he bent to scoop her up.
“Uh-uh.” She took a step backward and gave him a mock frown. “My jungle, my rules.”
“Glori, Queen of the Jungle, huh? Okay, command me, my queen.”
His grin melted her insides, and she hid her reaction and looked him up and down. “You have too many clothes on for a jungle. Take them off.”
“Down to what? My underwear?”
“Down to the skin.” While he followed her commands and she stripped off her own clothes, she walked around in back of him and watched the interplay of his muscles and bones. Damn, he was so perfect. She sent a little thanks to the soul-mate phenomenon for its gift.
When he was down to nothing, he moved to face her. She stopped him with her hands on his shoulders. “Just stand there.”
She ran her hands down his back and squeezed his butt. He stiffened, and she noticed his hands clenching. She slid her hands around his waist to his front and up his chest. Under her touch, his muscles hardened even more. Her movement brought her breasts into contact with his back. He must not have realized she, too, was naked, because he inhaled sharply. She kissed his back between his shoulder blades, once, twice, three times, and rubbed her front over his back.
He raised his hands, probably to capture hers, until she tapped his chest and said, “Not yet.”
When she dropped her hands to his waist and lower still to run fingers through his springy curls, finally to hold his erection, he hissed and threw his head back. Through her cheek pressed against his back, she could feel his heartbeat increase.
The hum started, pulsating in her eardrums, and her blood heated as her heart speeded up to match his.
It wasn’t enough. She had to be closer.
She moved her hands to his hips and turned him to face her. His gaze was intense, and every muscle in his body was steel hard under her fingers. Happily, he was still playing by her rules.
“Lie down,” she ordered, and he lay on the chaise. She followed and straddled him, bracing herself on her hands and knees to lean down and kiss him. His hands came up to cup her breasts, and the familiar zings flashed from her nipples to her womb when he fondled them. The hum increased in tempo and intensity as she lowered herself until he was inside her all the way.
As she looked into his eyes, the playful ideas she’d had when she began this game evaporated like water in the Sahara before the heat in his gaze.
He pulled her down into a kiss that transformed in the time of two heartbeats from warm to hot to blazing to incandescent.
Her control slipped, then fell away altogether, when his touch grew more urgent and she began to move up and down on him. He changed his grip from her breasts to her hips and thrust in counterpoint. Their magic centers aligned and met with each thrust. Within seconds, they were pounding together. He added a
twist of his hips that increased her frenzy until her world consisted of him and her and the deep, sonorous hum and swirling magical energy. They strained together toward … toward … an explosive, prolonged merging … until finally, nirvana.
Sometime later he stirred first, and she raised up on her arms again. He smiled and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Glori, you simply blow me away.”
“The feeling is mutual, or couldn’t you tell? To be absolutely clear, I love you very much.”
“I love you, too, Glori.” He said the words very seriously as if to be sure she understood. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “To think, I wanted to reject it all. God, what an idiot I was.”
“Nah, in the end I wouldn’t have let you. I don’t know what I’d have done, but it would have been something.” She gave him her evil little-sister smile.
“Oh, I’m sure of that.” He laughed and gave her a hug. “Listen, I could stay right here forever, but if we don’t get up soon, we never will.”
She groaned and looked at her watch. “It’s going on midnight. Let’s get moving.”
They rose and started dressing.
“Now, that’s peculiar,” he said a minute later.
“What?”
“The African violet. It wasn’t that big or had that many flowers when I first noticed it.”
She came over to take a better look. “You’re right. How on earth …” She felt the leaves and the soil and counted the flowers. It had almost doubled in size. She measured the distance from the chaise to the table with her eyes. The answer she arrived at caused her to gasp. “Oh, my God, Marcus. We did that. We must have. It’s our combined spell aura. The magical energy, the hum—the plant must have been inside our spell-aura diameter, and that caused it to grow.”
He stared at her. “Antonia said our aura only extended a few inches.”
“We were certainly merging our bodies, and energy was flowing through both of us. The combined aura must be growing in the process like the bigger lightball.”
“Okay, if you’re correct, we’ve yet to see what else the soul-mate phenomenon has done to us.” He waved at the chaise. “What we went through here was almost as powerful to me as the bonding experience.”
