He wasn’t sure how he would write about that when it came time to do his book, but he knew he had to. He had always looked at magic backwards. He had thought that the belief that magic existed came because human beings couldn’t explain their world so they needed something—magic, strange religions, mysticism—to help them comprehend the incomprehensible.
Instead, he would approach his history of magic study the way he would approach the history of religion. He would accept the beliefs—just as he would accept the beliefs of Buddhists or Jews or Catholics—and then he would write the history from there. It would be a crossover text—one that the New Age stores would buy, and one that historians would use as well. He would document everything—his research had to be solid—but his approach would be new for a scholarly text.
He smiled as he drove through Coeur d’Alene and looked at the spectacular lake, sparkling in the sun. The biggest problem would be writing things he now knew were true—such as the ability to turn a cat into a lion or the fact that magic users lived very long lives—as if they were something unverifiable, and therefore unproven.
As he thought about that, a little shiver ran down his back. He frowned, and glanced at Emma. She was still sound asleep, her dark hair flowing over her like a blanket. Darnell was awake and watching him as if he could hear Michael’s thoughts.
Michael shivered again. He hoped that Emma’s magic hadn’t gone awry. The last thing he wanted was for that cat to read his mind.
But something Michael had thought of had disturbed him, and it had done so on a very deep level. He glanced at Emma again. He’d been thinking about magic. Magic and… long life.
His stomach twisted. Feo had mentioned that, using such derogatory terms. Emma had played along, even though Michael had seen the anger in her eyes. Feo had called Michael insignificant, had called him a toy.
Michael hadn’t really focused on the man’s words. His manner had been disturbing enough. But he had said something that had angered Michael—and he’d had to set it aside so that Emma could concentrate on Feo.
“I could extend the life of your toy there,” Feo had said. “Make him pretty as long as he lives.”
Extend the life… as long as he lives.
Michael would grow old and die, and Emma would look the same as she did now. He would be the first man in her life, true enough, and probably special for that. But he wouldn’t be the last, and he probably wouldn’t be the one she spent the bulk of her life with. That would be a man of her own kind, a man who would live forever—or however close to it that Emma lived.
She would be the most important thing in Michael’s life, and he would only be a footnote in hers.
His hands gripped the wheel tightly. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Darnell had fallen asleep. Emma had stirred slightly, still sleeping as well.
Michael made himself take a deep breath. He had fallen in love with Emma, and she had told him that she cared for him—which was probably as close to an admission of love as he would get from her. She needed to learn how to be close. He was willing to teach her, even knowing the future imbalance in their relationship. Even knowing that she might not be interested in him as he aged and she didn’t.
Somehow he had always thought, like everyone else, that magic would make life easier. He was continually surprised that it did not.
***
Emma drove down the familiar streets of Portland. When she had seen the bridges crossing the Willamette, her heart had leaped. She had missed this place more than she wanted to admit. The bridges were lit up against the black sky, their arching shapes familiar and comforting. The lights reflected in the river below, stretching them, blending them into colors that seemed planned, even though they weren’t. The city itself was spectacular, and beyond it, despite the darkness, she could see the outlines of the mountains.
She had missed it all more than she had thought she would.
Darnell had climbed into the front seat for the first time on this trip. He was standing between Michael and Emma and had his front paws on the dash, his tail wagging slowly, as if he were hunting prey. But she knew he wasn’t. He was wagging his tail happily, but doing it slowly so that no one would think he was practicing doglike behavior.
Michael had one hand on Darnell’s belly, bracing him, and Darnell didn’t seem to mind. But Michael wasn’t watching the cat. He was looking at the city through the passenger side window, seemingly lost in thought.
Emma wondered what he made of Portland, how he felt now that they were so close to their destination. They hadn’t said much during the day’s meals—one or the other of them had been waking up from fitful naps—and ever since Spokane, Michael had seemed distant.
She wasn’t sure if he really was distant or if she was perceiving everything through her exhaustion. Mixed with that exhaustion was a sense of relief. Her life would gain some semblance of order now that she was back in Oregon. Aethelstan would help her learn how to be the mage everyone seemed to think she was.
She took the downtown exit that led to Nora and Aethelstan’s loft. The neighborhood was made up of shops and warehouses and lovely old office buildings, all made of brick and stone. The loft was high enough that it had a view of the city and the bridges, but there weren’t enough trees or grass for Emma. There was no place in the neighborhood for a garden, and the exhaust fumes from a nearby busy street made most window box plants look sickly.
Darnell’s tail went faster and faster as they turned onto the street where he used to live. Michael seemed to withdraw further into himself. She didn’t blame him. He probably had no idea what would happen next. Neither did she.
She parked in her favorite on-the-street spot next to the only real tree on the entire block. The loft was several stories up. She hadn’t called ahead; she wondered if they would be home. The restaurant kept late hours, and sometimes Aethelstan was there until long past closing, planning his next great dish.
Still, they would be expecting her sometime soon. They knew she was driving. They just didn’t know when she would arrive.
She shut off the car, and glanced at Michael. He was still staring out the window as if they hadn’t stopped moving. Darnell was in her lap, purring. Apparently, he was happy that the trip was over.
“Well,” she said, “let’s see if they’re home.”
“Are you sure you want me along?” Michael asked quietly. He hadn’t turned to her. He was still staring out the window. She could see tension in his shoulders and back.
“Why wouldn’t I want you to come along?” she asked. Darnell sat down and looked at Michael as if he were spoiling the fun.
“These are your old friends. You’ve come to them for help, and I’d just be in the way.”
She let out a small breath. She hadn’t realized that Michael was nervous about this. “You won’t be in the way. You’re the reason I made it here. You kept me sane and helped me survive. Remember that vision of yours? It could have come true.”
“It was a dream. It might have been nothing more than that.”
She slipped her hand over his. “Come with me, Michael,” she said. “I want you to meet the other people who are important to me in this world.”
He turned to her then. With his other hand, he caressed her face. His fingers were cool against her skin. “Funny,” he said softly, “I’m the one who made us drive this last part nonstop, and I’m the one who doesn’t want the trip to end.”
“I’m sorry the drive’s over too.” Then she smiled. “But we had incentive to get here, remember? And it had nothing to do with magic.”
He smiled too. “Do you think your friends will take care of Darnell?”
“All we have to do is ask.” She kissed his hand, then reached for the car door. “Ready?”
He nodded. “The official end of the road. A few days ago, I wondered if we’d mak
e it.”
“A week ago, you thought I was crazy for suggesting it.”
“I’ve learned a lot since then,” he said.
“Me too,” she said, feeling surprised. “Me too.”
***
Michael carried Darnell inside the building, holding the cat in front of him like a shield. Emma led the way as if she had been here a thousand times—which she probably had. Darnell got squirmy once they were inside the elevator.
“You can put him down,” she said. “He used to live here. He knows the way.”
So Michael set down Darnell and felt strangely unprotected. He was tired, more tired than he cared to admit. He didn’t want to meet these people wearing rumpled clothes and having brushed his teeth in restaurant bathrooms. They were important to Emma; he wanted to impress them.
Fat chance of that.
Darnell stood in front of the doors, waiting for the elevator to stop. Emma leaned against the wall, watching the floor numbers tick by. Michael wanted to touch her, but he wasn’t sure if he could any longer. Even though she had reassured him, his status was about to change, and he knew it.
The elevator doors opened, and Darnell was the first one out, trotting down the corridor as if he owned the place. And, being a cat (and an extremely self-possessed one at that) he probably thought he did.
Emma slipped her hand in Michael’s. Then she smiled at him. “We’re together,” she said.
He nodded. He squeezed her hand in what he hoped felt like reassurance, and then he walked at her side to the big steel door at the end of the corridor. Emma knocked on it. Darnell stood in front of it, tail wagging.
Michael heard footsteps, a pause as someone looked through the peephole, and then bolts slid back and the door opened.
Casper, the Ghost of Christmas Present, stepped out. He looked different than he had in Michael’s dream; he was wearing a white linen suit, spats, and a fedora. He looked a little like a pug dog attempting to imitate James Cagney.
“Merlin,” Emma said and crouched so that she could hug him. He patted her back, looking vaguely embarrassed, then slipped out of her grasp.
“So you took my advice,” he said to Michael.
“It seemed like the right decision at the time,” Michael said.
“And now?”
“And now I know it was.”
Emma stood and smiled at Michael.
“Well, I can’t stay,” Casper said. “Got some things to do at the restaurant. Hi ho!”
And then he walked to the elevator, whistling “Whistle While You Work.”
“Hi ho?” Emma asked Michael.
“That first night, I insulted him. Guess this means he forgives me.”
“What did you do?” A new voice asked. “Compare him to Sneezy?”
A pretty petite blond who looked like she had once been captain of her high school cheerleading squad was peering out the door.
“Grumpy, actually.”
“I always thought he looked like Doc.” Then she smiled. “You must be Michael.”
He nodded but she missed it. She had wrapped her arms around Emma. Emma hugged her back. Darnell ran inside and Michael heard a long drawn-out hiss. It didn’t sound like Darnell’s.
“I missed you so much!” the woman said as she eased herself out of the hug, and extended a hand to Michael. “I’m Nora Barr. I can’t tell you how grateful Alex and I are that you brought Emma to us.”
“My pleasure,” Michael said, shaking her hand. She stepped back and invited them into the loft.
It was breathtaking. The sunken living room was decorated in reds and silvers. A chrome staircase twisted its way to the upper story where a sleeping area hid behind a silver screen. But the most dominant part of the loft were the windows, which, even though it was night, were still open. Through them, he could see the lights of the entire city and the bridges over the river.
“Wow,” he said. He would never have imagined Emma in a place like this.
“We like it,” a male voice said.
Michael turned. A man stood in the entrance to the kitchen. He was tall, with dark hair that covered his collar. He had classic features and eyes that looked almost silver. So this was Aethelstan, the man Emma had once loved. No wonder. He looked like every woman’s ideal—tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious.
Aethelstan seemed to be assessing Michael as well. “You made good time. I would have thought that this trip would have taken longer.”
He almost made it sound as if Michael had hurried to get here so that he could be rid of Emma.
“We ran into some troubles along the way,” Emma said.
“Darnell turn into a lion again?” Nora asked. Then she looked around. “Where is he? He was harassing Squidgy a minute ago.”
“Squidgy?” Michael asked.
“She and Darnell were both my cats once. They lived together for ten years, something Squidgy hates to be reminded of.” Nora smiled and in spite of himself, Michael found himself smiling back. He hadn’t realized that he’d been prepared to hate these people. After all, Nora had taken Aethelstan away from Emma, but it suddenly didn’t seem that clear-cut.
“He turned into a lion once or twice,” Emma said, “but it was the loose magic thing that made us decide to get here as fast as we could.”
A frown crossed Aethelstan’s face. “You two look exhausted. Why don’t you sit? Would you like something to eat? Some coffee, maybe?”
“No,” Michael started, but Emma said, “That would be good.”
Aethelstan disappeared into the kitchen. Emma led Michael to the couch. As he sat, he saw Darnell in the small hallway that led toward the back, his whiskers forward, batting at a roly-poly black cat who had its ears back and was hissing vehemently. Darnell seemed to be having the time of his life.
“Should I break them up?” Emma asked Nora.
“Squidgy can take care of herself,” Nora said. “Can’t you, love?”
Squidgy rose on her hind legs and swatted Darnell five times on the face before he could even swing a paw. He sat, dazed, as she made her way into the living room.
“I never thought anyone could take him on,” Michael said.
“Well, Squidgy decided a few years back not to take any crap from him,” Nora said. “I think living alone’s been good for her.”
Aethelstan came out of the kitchen carrying a silver serving tray. On it was a silver coffeepot, and several kinds of appetizers, all of them warm and smelling good.
Michael must have looked surprised.
“They’re from the restaurant,” Nora said. “He microwaved them.”
Such a simple explanation, and an unnecessary one for most people. But apparently they had all realized that Michael thought they were magically produced.
“Sorry,” he said, feeling stupid. “I haven’t had a lot of sleep.”
“You drove straight from where?” Aethelstan asked.
“Billings,” Emma said, and then she told him about Feo and the shadows. “Michael was the one who said we needed to get here fast.”
Aethelstan’s silver eyes studied him for a moment, as if reassessing him. “I think we owe you great thanks. Your friend Feo was the least of the wizards in that area. The others were probably planning something much more elaborate.”
“Emma said they couldn’t do anything without her permission, but I was worried nonetheless.”
“Rightly so,” Aethelstan said. “That group doesn’t always respect the boundaries of our laws.”
“I would have been all right,” Emma said.
“No,” Aethelstan said, “you wouldn’t have.”
Emma’s face flushed. “You don’t know what’s all happened. I’ve improved.”
“Probably,” Aethelstan said. “But anything yo
u think you’ve learned on this trip will have to be relearned.”
“Relearned?” Emma said. “Why?”
“Because there are right ways of doing magic and there are wrong ways. The wrong ways lead to bad spells.”
“Like the one you used to save me all those years ago?” Emma snapped.
“Yes,” Aethelstan said.
Michael looked at him, surprised. He hadn’t expected the man to admit a mistake so easily.
“And I don’t want you to have any bad habits. I suspect you have a lot more power than most of us do, and a bad habit from you might make the spell even more dangerous.”
“I can handle myself,” Emma said.
“If that were true, you wouldn’t be here.”
“I’m here because I have no choice,” Emma said. “You wouldn’t come to me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Well, if those mages in Montana could ignore the rules, why couldn’t you?”
“Emma, we’ve had this discussion.”
“I’ve been thinking about this, Aethelstan, and I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t think I can learn anything from you.”
Aethelstan’s cheeks grew red. Michael kept his hand entwined with Emma’s feeling as if he were over his head. “I’m a good teacher, Emma.”
“But you won’t listen to me when I tell you something.”
“I think that goes both ways,” Aethelstan said. “You always misinterpret what I have to say.”
“This type of discussion is not productive,” Nora said.
“We’ll handle it,” Aethelstan said to her.
“Actually,” Michael said, “Emma and I haven’t really slept for two days. Give her a chance to get some rest and I’m sure—”
Aethelstan waved a hand, and all of Michael’s exhaustion left him. He felt better than he had in years. Buoyant, almost giddy.
“Dammit, Aethelstan, you’re supposed to ask before you do that.” The shadows were gone from beneath Emma’s eyes. She looked as fresh as she had the day Michael met her, and even more energetic, if that were possible.
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