Andre clucked his tongue.
"What?” I asked.
“It wouldn’t be so simple as you think. Ask him to swallow a lightning bolt. This would be easier than what you propose,” Andre said.
“But they did it. If I get you the original spell so you could see how it was done, then could you undo it?” I asked.
Bryn shrugged. “Maybe, but how would you get the original spell?”
“I’ll have to steal it for you.”
Bryn stared at me. “You’re not immortal, you know. You almost died last week, remember?”
“I know. My memory’s not all photographic like yours, but those little things like nearly getting killed tend to stick in my mind.”
Bryn’s gaze swiveled to Mercutio and then back to me. “I can’t figure out if you’re getting more bold because you’ve survived the past couple of weeks. Or if there might be another reason. Like a growing attachment to your cat. As predators go, big cats are the top of the food chain. They don’t really know fear. It could be influencing you. Or maybe it’s the fact that some of your dormant genes were unleashed.”
“I’m not fearless!” I said. “I’m just practical. These Duvall people are my people. I can’t just let them get turned into Spice Girls . . . and guys. Whatever I have to do to get that undone, I’ll do, whether it’s scary or not.”
Bryn nodded. "Whatever it takes?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s find out what that prophecy says because if we enter into a spell to turn salt sculptures into people, there will be no going back for you and me. We’ll be connected to each other for good.”
I shivered. “So, time travel first. Then robbery. Then . . . whatever comes next.”
Chapter 32
When Bryn told me that I’d have to be naked except for a bolt of purple silk fashioned into a kind of toga, I decided we’d have to be alone in the yard, well except for Mercutio. Andre went to the library to do research on transfiguration spells.
Bryn turned off the security cameras for the grounds and changed into dark pajama bottoms and a black bathrobe. Swathed in purple silk, I followed him outside to the backyard star chart.
He positioned me between two lanterns, and I was happy to have the heat they gave off. It was so darn cold out, you could almost forget you were in Texas. The wind kicked up and drops of rain dripped from the dark sky.
“You’re on Orion’s belt,” Bryn murmured as he took a position behind me. "What I want you to do is picture your aunt’s house. If you can get your mind in that place while I cast, the spell should take you to the right moment.”
“Do I need to do an incantation?”
“No, I’ll do it. You’re the energy. I’m the anchor. You’ll travel with a metaphysical tether to me.”
“Won’t that hold me back?”
“We’ll find out, but don’t let go of my hands, Tamara. Whatever happens, hang on to me. If this spell doesn’t work, we can try another, so long as you’re not hurt in the process.”
“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath.
He shrugged off the robe and tossed it out of the decorated area.
“Maybe the prophecy was that we’d die of exposure while trying to do a time-travel spell,” I joked. “Wouldn’t that be ironic?”
“Yes,” he said, stepping close to me so that his chest pressed against my back. I felt his body heat and lean muscles through the thin layer of silk. He positioned my hands to my sides, slightly behind me, and laced our fingers together.
He brought his mouth close to me, his voice tickling my ear. “Look at the rock crystal and concentrate on your aunt’s house. Picture what she described. Picture it all around you.”
I stared at the hanging rock, seeing a reflection that wasn’t actually there, myself and Bryn over my shoulder, black hair touching red. Lights flickered in the wind. Cut crystals swayed and sparkled. His words in soft Gaelic mixed with the music.
My vision blurred, and I smelled perfume, sharp and sexy. I strained my eyes, trying to get them to focus, but everything seemed fragmented, like long shards of broken glass. I turned toward a voice I recognized.
Edie!
“How could she prefer The Covered Wagon to Valentino in the Four Horsemen? Dumb Dora,” she said. The voice softened, and I floated toward it. The images shifted so they weren’t so much shattered as watery.
I pursued her voice. The carpet under her feet was deep red and edged with a gold border. Her dress was dark blue or maybe black with gold embroidery and crystal beads. The back had delicate swirls and circles around a central circle. Below the low waist, there were horizontal patterns of solid lines alternating with twisted swirls of beads. The bottom of the gown was asymmetrical, creating scallops of fabric that skimmed the floor. Her shoes were like old-fashioned clogs, but daintier, with a square pattern, like a witch’s buckle, on the front.
She slowed, but I didn’t, and, the next moment, a rush of air stole my breath and the colors vibrated around me as I saw them through her eyes. She gasped and stumbled. The world whirled as we fell backward. Toward the stairs!
The momentum took us, but her voice, sharp and scared, snapped, “Cradle catch.”
A thrust of energy pushed us to the side, and her hand caught a rung of the banister, jerking us to a stop. She turned her head, and I saw down the stairs, at least twenty of them, to the marble checkerboard floor where we would’ve probably cracked our head or broken our neck.
“Out,” she hissed, and a vacuum of air sucked me out of her body, leaving me cold and confused. “Grasping little bitch,” she whispered, narrowing her clear green eyes as she twisted her legs around to get them under her. She kept her white-knuckled grip on the banister as she crawled up the stairs, looking carefully from side to side like she was trying to spot me. I was inexplicably drawn to her. The lights had been so bright and warm. I wanted back in.
“No spirit rides me. Try that again and I’ll trap you in a hell you’ve never imagined.”
Despite the warning, I floated nearer, which was scary, because I couldn’t seem to control the way I moved. She glared and raised a hand. I edged closer, still not able to stop myself.
Help! Help me!
I felt a sharp pain, like a knife slicing me, but it pulled me backward, away from her.
Edie grimaced, touching her glossy finger-waved black hair. Her black-lined green eyes were almond shaped and beautiful, but deadly calculating. A Park Avenue Cleopatra.
She walked carefully but quickly to a door. I followed, very slowly. She entered the room and slammed the door. I passed through it, into a pretty-as-a-picture bedroom.
A porcelain-faced doll with auburn hair lay on the covers of a high four-poster bed. The cream-colored dressing table had panels painted with delicate branches and birds. The silver-handled hairbrush and cosmetics had been pushed to one side to make room for a journal. A woman sat in the table’s matching chair, bending over the book, writing with a fountain pen. I could see her face in the gilded mirror. Edie’s face, but softer. The waves in her long dark hair were natural, not coiffed, and she wore no makeup, which made her look young and fresh. Her teal green dress was high-waisted with a gold braided cord that laced the bodice together.
“Did I leave my cigarette case in here, Nor?” Edie asked.
Lenore didn’t look up from her writing. “Yes, as you well know, since you did it on purpose.”
Edie sighed as if very put out. “What if I did? If that little fiend found it in here, she wouldn’t give it to Papa. She’d never get you in trouble. None of the servants would.”
“You could try being nicer to them.”
“Why should I? The wretched little snitches.” She paused, calming. “Do you like this gown? It’s from the French designer I told you about. Gabrielle Chanel.”
Lenore looked up. “Very pretty, but I don’t like the square neck. You know I don’t go in for hard edges.” Lenore looked past her, toward me. She tilted her head.
“What?” Edie said, whirling in my direction. “Do you see something? There was a strange ghost in the hallway. Rotten cow jumped right into me. Nearly broke my neck falling down the stairs.”
Lenore smiled at me. “Poor dear,” Lenore said, and I didn’t know if she meant me or Edie. “It was an accident. She’s not malicious.”
“Well, who is she and what’s she doing here?” Edie demanded suspiciously.
“I don’t know, but I think she’s just passing through. She’s a tender heart. Nothing to worry about.”
“Well, you can tell her to bloody well stay out of my body, or I’ll stuff her into an ill-wish doll and stick her with pins like the Voudoun priestesses do.”
“You know better than to dabble in black magic, Edes. You really must be careful.”
Edie pursed her crimson lips defiantly.
Lenore sighed. “I’d think drinking bathtub gin would be enough lawbreaking for you.” Lenore turned back to her journal.
“What are you writing in that infernal book?” Edie said, walking up behind her and peeking over Lenore’s shoulder.
Their two pretty faces were framed together in the mirror. Identical bones and flawless skin, but one painted and clever and the other soulful and knowing.
“I have a new name for the list.”
“You and your list.”
“This one’s the most dangerous yet,” Lenore whispered. “He’ll divide the family.”
“The family could use some division. If I could get my inheritance early, I’d move in with the artists and young bohemians in Greenwich Village.”
“And give up French silk evening gowns?” Lenore said with a soft laugh. “I doubt that.”
Edie opened a drawer to retrieve an engraved cigarette case. She put a cigarette in a long black holder and lit it.
“Get Mama to talk Papa into giving me my money, and see where I go,” Edie said without an ounce of self-doubt. She inhaled, then blew out a puff of smoke. “So what’s the dastardly name then?”
“Lyons. I don’t know the first name. Perhaps Brian . . .” Lenore trailed off, then added, “Something like it anyway.”
No!
A crushing weight suffocated me.
“And what will he do to divide the family?” Edie asked.
Lenore’s finger traced the edge of the journal, then along the swirls of dried ink where she’d written the name. “He oughtn’t to be able to. They’ll be forewarned, you know. They’ll have my list. They’ll know the name, but she won’t get away quickly enough. She’s drawn to that power, you see. He’ll be so beautiful, that one. Spells so brilliant and hard to resist. When understanding dawns, it’ll be too late.” Lenore shook her head slowly. “The family’s already splintered. Dangerous decisions. Terrible ones. But there’s hope until . . . He’ll take their child. Even when she begs him to give it back, he won’t. He thinks he’s better than us, and he’ll want that darling girl more than anything. He lost something when he was young, you see. Something precious. So he’ll never give up anything that he thinks belongs to him. No matter that the child is half McKenna blood; no matter how much it will hurt them to be separated. He knows how to be ruthless, and he will be.” A round tear spilled over her lashes and rolled down her cheek. “The destiny they share will break the hearts of all those who live to see it.”
Edie shuddered and exhaled a curl of smoke. “Well, it’s their own fault if they know about the list and ignore it. Silly little fools.”
“Yes . . . fortune finishes the fool.”
A great dread pressed in on me, and I fumbled toward them, trying to speak, trying to promise that it wasn’t too late yet.
But when I got close to Edie, she raised her hand sharply. “No you don’t, tender heart. Be gone.” She snapped her wrist, flicking me away.
Air rushed through me with a deafening roar. I was lost and spinning, my ears splitting. I tried to yank my hands free to cover my ears, but they were pinned behind me. I struggled and thrashed, needles pricking my skin, a sharp pain in my leg and side.
“Tamara!”
I gasped and opened my eyes on the blurred night. My body twisted to escape. “Let go, Bryn! I’m back now. Let me go!”
He did and I stumbled forward, my knees landing on the cold, wet ground. He bent near me, putting a warm hand on my neck. “Are you all right?”
I looked up into his dark blue eyes and wondered if I might already be pregnant. I’d been careless with Bryn because, in all the hundreds of times with Zach, we’d never made a baby. A specialist said there was nothing wrong with either of us, but it didn’t happen. Maybe that was because I was part fae. Like Bryn. Maybe with him, making a baby would be easier. And maybe he’d love his little girl so much that, when we broke up, he’d decide I wasn’t a good enough mom and he’d take her away. The fear was like a dagger poking at my heart over and over until all my blood and all my hope seemed to drain away.
“What, sweetheart?” he asked. “What?”
He’d lost his own mom. He didn’t have much family. I could see why he wouldn’t want to just let me have her if we broke up. What if I ended up with Zach? Would Bryn take the baby out of spite? Would he think his child would be better off learning magic from him? Living somewhere outside Duvall? And if he did, what chance did I have of stopping him? Bryn was a lawyer who specialized in family law, and he’d never lost a case. People joked that he’d made a deal with the devil to get juries to always see things his way. Maybe not. Maybe he just bespelled them. Or maybe he just persuaded them with a handsome face and beautiful, irresistible eyes.
I put my hand up to cover his eyes, so I could look away as the tears started to well up in mine. He jerked his face back so he could see me.
“What?” he demanded as I got to my feet. I heard the sharp note of unease in his voice. He could see the truth in my eyes.
“No,” he said.
“We’ll work together to save the town,” I whispered.
“And then?” he demanded.
Then I’ll get away from you, and, if I’m pregnant, I’ll make sure you never find out. “Then we’ll see.”
He grabbed my arm and kept me from walking away. “Tell me! Tell me what you heard!” His teeth clenched, and dark power radiated from his body, all but swallowing me up in ice. I shuddered.
“Let go of me. I’m cold.”
He pulled me toward him, but I jerked back. His vise grip on my arm tightened until it hurt. I was afraid, not so much of him, but that I’d crack, that I’d look at him and want to tell him everything. A part of me loved him, wanted him in spite of everything. That part fought to get to him; that part wanted to press against him and cry into his ear and believe whatever he’d say to convince me to trust him. It took every bit of my strength not to snake my arms around his neck and turn my back on my family.
Tears dripped from my eyes.
Edie’s words echoed in my head. Their own fault. Silly little fools.
“Let go, Bryn.” I tried to make my voice sound hard.
“Won’t you tell me?” he asked, frustration laced with fury. He could be ruthless. It was there in his voice and in the things he’d done. The way he drove Edie away and blocked her from reaching me. When he thought he was right about something, he could be calculating and probably never regretted it. Who would he think our baby would be better off with? Him or me? Him. Of course, he would.
“Let’s talk about it. Tell me what you heard,” he said.
I stared at him, then turned my face away a fraction of an inch. With my heart breaking, I said, “No.”
Mercutio’s yowl made Bryn loosen his hold on my arm, and I pulled away. Mercutio rushed toward me, and I hurried in his direction. I didn’t hear or feel Bryn behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see that he’d turned his back to me, shrugging the bathrobe back on while he stared out at the water.
I walked without breaking my stride, anxious to put some distance between us.
Merc was almost to me when he hissed a
nd sprang toward the tree I was passing. I slowed just as a hand shot out and grabbed me. For a moment, I was face-to-face with Scarface until he whirled me around, levering a forearm across my throat and pressing a gun to my head.
Chapter 33
Scarface kicked viciously at Merc, but only landed a glancing blow. He whipped the gun toward Mercutio and fired. Merc sprang forward, and the bullet missed him by a hair. Real bullets, not tranquilizer darts.
“Run, Merc!” I said. I’d tried to yell, but the arm across my throat made my voice a rasp.
Mercutio stood his ground, back raised, front legs slightly bent like he was ready to spring at us.
Scarface pressed the muzzle of the gun to my head. “Tell him to back off. I will shoot you.”
“Go on, Merc. You get behind a tree,” I said. Mercutio didn’t listen. I’d known he wouldn’t. Back down from a fight? Leave me on my own? Not a chance. It made me mad at him. It also made me want to hug him.
“Who are you and what are you doing?” Bryn’s voice was soft. I almost didn’t hear it over the blowing wind.
Scarface spun to face Bryn. “I’m here to collect some things.” He rubbed the gun against my temple. “She took a brooch. Where is it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered.
“She doesn’t have it. It’s locked up in my house,” Bryn said, making me scowl. I’d worked so darn hard to get that brooch. Also, lying to the bad guys seemed like the right thing to do on principle, and, I reasoned, the longer Scarface didn’t have what he wanted, the longer he wouldn’t be shooting me in the head.
I shivered.
“I’m unarmed. Let her go. You’re better off with the gun on me,” Bryn said.
“You go in and get the brooch. We’ll wait here. And take the cat with you,” Scarface said, drawing us back away from Merc and Bryn.
I stiffened as Merc yowled in warning when Bryn took a step closer to him.
“Don’t bite him, Merc. You go on with Bryn. I’ll be just fine out here,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. It was just sinking in that there was an actual bullet a couple inches from my brain. I gulped. Just a little pressure on the trigger, and I could be Tammy in a locket or a brooch. Or in one of the earrings I had on, which were mighty small. I wished I’d worn real gold instead of Wal-Mart junk.
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