by Sandy Wright
She looked surprised. "Oh yes. She would have initiated him into the coven, but she left so abruptly it didn't happen. Probably just as well. She didn't really care for him."
Maybe he acted like he didn't know her because they didn't get along, I thought. "Does Nicholas know where his aunt is?"
"I don't think so." Maya opened the back door and we stepped inside. "I asked him before Samhain and he hadn't heard from her."
"We had an argument," I said. "He said something weird, like his family members will have died for nothing if I don't study with him."
Maya stopped and stared at me. "Are you sure he said someone died?"
"Yes, but he wasn't specific. The last thing he told me was, 'Our fate lies in your hands.' He didn't seem too happy about it."
She shrugged, looking worried. "I have no idea what he's talking about."
I packed up my belongings, more confused than I had been when I arrived. I would drive to Jerome tonight, apologize to Nicholas, and convince him to tell me exactly what happened to his family.
I carried my stuff out to the truck, and Maya walked out with me. "Sam, I don't know what is going on with his family or why Nicholas is taking the action he is. But if he has offered his teaching—and his protection—I would advise you to take it."
I opened my mouth to ask her more, but closed it abruptly as Nuin appeared in the front doorway. "Non-football fans?" he asked in a teasing voice.
I plastered a smile on my face. "Too full to sit. I think I'm going to go get Rumor and head home."
"She has a bet riding on the game," Nuin said. "I don't think she'll be thrilled about leaving. But I'd be happy to take her home when it's over."
I hugged him goodbye. He would have preferred more. But Nuin had lied to me about knowing Bella. Nicholas may not have lied, but he'd withheld information. I didn't trust either one of them. But I was stuck here, smack in the middle.
Chapter 21: Snowy Path to Truth
Despite running the truck's heater full-blast, I shivered most of the drive to Jerome. The few intense moments I'd shared with Nicholas ran like a movie loop though my head. His hands tangled in my hair, his breath on my neck while he whispered, "You have no idea what you've stumbled into. You have neither the skill nor the intellect to be taught." The current of sexual energy. The cold fury.
Thanks to Sinclair, I no longer worried about my abilities or my intellect. But I worried plenty about my lack of knowledge. If we were going to work together, I'd have to convince Nicholas to get serious about teaching me magic, to supplement my spirit and power work with the medicine man. As for the sexual tension? I tried to picture looking into those dark eyes and discussing the attraction between us. Damn.
Fifteen miles outside of Jerome I hit a mountain snowstorm. Tiny hard crystals of ice swirled in my headlights as I wound slowly up the switchbacks. By the time I got to the narrow blacktop road at the city limits, I could no longer see the end of my headlight beams. At the top of the mountain, snow was blowing sideways, producing whiteout conditions.
I thought about pulling onto the shoulder and calling Nicholas, but I wasn't sure I would have the traction to get going again if I stopped. I crawled the last mile up Black Cat Road in first gear, hunched over the steering wheel, white knuckled, and muttering desperate prayers to whomever was listening.
As I maneuvered a sharp turn, my headlamps swept across a mottled brown image. The elk hesitated in the middle of the road when the lights hit him. I stomped on the brakes and crunched to a stop a foot from his shaggy flank. He gazed at me with utter nonchalance, turning his majestic antlered head to look behind him. A smaller female stepped onto the road. With a flick of their tails, the pair bounded off the road into the woods below.
I stepped gingerly on the gas. My back wheels spun and the rear end skittered to the side. Unable to find traction on the ice-covered blacktop, I let up on the gas, intending to try again, but the truck began sliding sideways down the steep road. In a panic, I pumped the brake, but the slide continued. I pulled the emergency brake. The back tires stopped but the front end slewed around, crunching across the frozen soil at the edge of the drop-off.
I held my breath. The truck shuddered to a stop half off the road. I uncurled my cramped hands from the steering wheel and put the vehicle in park. Then I carefully eased open the door.
The front end faced downhill, hanging partially over the edge of the embankment. Remembering the thousand-foot drops along this part of the road, I killed the engine, slid slowly out onto the ground, and crawled across the crumbling soil to the blacktop. Looking back, I saw swirling snowflakes in the headlights' beams, the truck balanced in the air like a huge metal torch.
Muttering obscenities at the mountain, the weather, and finally the elk, I scrambled back down the embankment to the rear door, cracking it open just enough to grab my purse. Afraid if I shut the door—much less crawled into the front seat—I might upset the delicate equilibrium, I abandoned my poor truck, doors open and lights on.
I sat down in a snowbank on the side of the road, my legs too shaky to stand, and dug my cell phone out of my purse. I would call Nicholas and explain. He'd come get me.
Dead. I stared at the blank screen. Damn! I would have to walk the last half-mile to Nicholas' house.
The uphill hike was slippery but I covered it quickly. The near-disaster had swept all previous misgivings and self-consciousness from my mind. I didn't care if Nicholas had no notice of my coming, or if I would be stranded with the cranky man. I was here and alive, and vowed to stay until the storm passed.
I rapped the brass door knocker of the dark house. Nothing. By the time I'd knocked three times, my teeth were chattering so badly I bit my tongue. For the first time it occurred to me. Maybe he wasn't home. I pushed down my glove and peered at my watch. Well past midnight. Maybe he was a sound sleeper. Maybe he had company. I hadn't even thought about Nicholas's personal life. Lilith's smirking face and bony body, naked in his bed, flashed in my mind, just as a single light went on in an upstairs window.
Nicholas cracked the door without turning on the porch light. He belted his robe across his bare chest and watched me silently as I struggled to stop shivering enough to speak.
Then his eyes swept the empty driveway. One eyebrow came up and he surveyed me for another long moment. Without a word, he stepped aside and let me pass into the warm entryway.
* * * * *
Nicholas led me to his study, past a stately grandfather clock in the entry hall, its pendulum swinging slowly with a quiet tic-tic-tic. He opened the double doors and guided me across the shadowed room, gesturing to one of the two leather chairs by the dark fireplace. He picked up a blanket on the seat and tucked it around me, patting me absentmindedly before disappearing into the kitchen.
I kicked off my wet boots and drew my legs beneath me. The shivering began to subside. I sat in silence in the dark until Nicholas returned with two steaming mugs and handed one to me. I wrapped my hands around the hot cup and held it under my nose. It smelled of apple cider, alcohol, cinnamon and cloves. I took a sip. The brandy in the toddy sent a trail of fire down my throat and into my belly. I took a larger swallow, and then another.
Nicholas disappeared again and returned with an armload of firewood. His head and shoulders were covered with snow and his slippers left wet footprints on the rug as he carried the wood to the fireplace and stacked it neatly. He leaned in and opened the flue, turned a knob in the stone front a quarter turn, lit a match and held it below the grate of wood. With a soft pop, the gas starter burst into flame.
Before I had finished my toddy, the logs were burning and crackling. I stretched my legs out straight and put my sock feet onto the now-warm hearth. I felt decidedly drowsy.
"Better?"
"Uhmm hum."
I heard a quiet laugh from the adjacent chair. "Where's your car?"
"Truck. Cliff."
Another soft chuckle.
I
was beyond full sentences, but I'd come up here to tell him something important, if I could just remember what. "Nicholas?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
But I was too tired to explain. Tired and toasty and a bit tipsy.
* * * * *
When I awoke, the room was dark and the fire had burnt down. Nicholas was stretched out in the chair beside me, staring into the glowing red embers.
I sat up and rolled my neck in a circle to loosen the kinks. "I'm starving."
He swore softly under his breath. "Does this look like a pub?"
"Do you have eggs?"
He sighed and stood up.
I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and followed him through the dark into the kitchen.
Soon the smell of eggs scrambled in melting butter and garlic made my stomach growl as if I hadn't eaten in days. Nicholas tossed in green onions he had chopped, crumbled some cheddar cheese on top of the bubbling eggs, covered the skillet and turned off the burner.
I poured us two cups of scalding hot coffee. Nicholas brought the pan of eggs and two forks over to the oak table, placing it between us on a potholder. We sat side by side and ate the eggs straight out of the pan.
At the smell of food, a huge black cat sidled through the doorway, waddled across the room, and heaved himself into my lap. He had to weigh at least twenty-five pounds, and pure black with bright yellow eyes. He bumped his head against my hand, a demand to be scratched.
"Well, hello there, mister." I stroked his soft head with my free hand. He buried his face in my palm, purring so hard I could feel the rumble vibrating through his ears.
"His name is Magic." Nicholas looked amused. "It appears he's in love."
"I didn't know you had a cat."
"He came with the house. He's my aunt Bella's."
"She left her cat here alone? How irresponsible."
"I don't think she planned to be gone this long." Nicholas reached over and stroked Magic. "These guys are the reason I'm staying here, rather than chucking the house onto the market and going back East." He looked at me. "One of the reasons anyway."
A flush of embarrassment heated my cheeks. This man had always gone out of his way to be unpleasant to me. I wasn't sure how to respond to his abrupt new openness now, alone in the intimate confines of his kitchen at three o'clock in the morning. I decided to take the safe route and let the comment pass. "Guys? Are there more?"
I watched a succession of emotions flit across Nicholas' face—disappointment and then irritation—until he regained his look of complacent control.
"There's a second cat, Shadow, but he seems to be in hiding. I have yet to see him."
"I hope he's all right."
"I'm sure he's in the house somewhere. He's had no opportunity to run away. I've been putting food and water out for him upstairs and it disappears. Bella warned me he's shy."
"Where is your aunt Bella?"
The complacent expression vanished. His face grim, Nicholas cleared the table and took the pan to the sink. He stood looking out into the darkness beyond the kitchen window for a long time. Finally he spoke, so softly I could barely hear him.
"That is the question, isn't it?" He turned to lean his back against the counter, arms crossed. "I don't know where Bella is."
He rubbed the stubble on his chin, definitely looking like he'd been up all night. But it made him more human, rather than the aloof, perfectly tailored, upper-class demeanor he normally maintained. I wondered if I looked as attractive to him as he did to me right now. I ran my fingers through my sleep-tangled hair. Ugh. Probably not.
"Are you listening to me?" Nicholas asked, scowling. "You look tired. We can continue this in the morning. Well, later this morning."
Obviously, my daydreaming about the man in front of me had made him think I wasn't paying attention. If he only knew. "Uh, I drifted off for a moment. When was the last time you spoke with Bella?"
"She called and told me she'd be traveling and asked me if I'd be willing to house-sit," Nicholas said. "She was quite abrupt about the whole thing." He came back to the table and sat next to me. "She seemed upset and she told me…."
"What?"
"Well, it was odd." He thought for a moment. "She told me, 'If I'm not back by fall, put the house up for sale.' And…." Nicholas paused. "Let me think on how she worded it. She didn't say 'dispose of my things.' She said, 'release my belongings.' Then she told me specifically her cloak would choose its next owner because she planned to spell it to do so."
He looked at me. "When she didn't return, I took all her things to her old store. And there you were."
"Your aunt owned Past Lives?"
Nicholas seemed surprised by my shocked expression. "You didn't know?"
"I had no idea. The title was listed under an estate name I've never heard of, not under your family name."
"True," Nicholas said slowly. "It was part of her late husband's estate. His last name was something else. Let me think. Clayworth, I believe." He looked down at his hands for a long moment. "It seems I have done you an injustice, Samantha. The sale seemed exceptionally convenient for you. Then your reaction to her cloak was so strong, I suspected you might have had something to do with her disappearance. Now I think Aunt Bella had a hand in the whole arrangement."
Nicholas continued to avoid looking at me. A faint blush worked its way up his neck and flushed his cheeks. I'd swear the confession embarrassed him. But it also explained at lot of his previous attitude toward me. He was finally opening up a little.
I put my hand over his. "Apology accepted. I see how you might feel it's a lot of coincidence." I stopped, my mind buzzing. "But there's no such thing as coincidence."
Nicholas looked at me in puzzlement.
"I've been thinking about the message I received during Mom's séance," I said. Actually, I had done nothing except think about her message. "Did Kamaria tell you the exact wording?"
Nicholas turned toward the little desk behind him. "I wrote it down here somewhere."
"Don't bother, I have it memorized," I replied wearily. "He will make you his or see you dead for the power."
"Before the blood moon," Nicholas finished. "Not much time. Do you have any idea who she is talking about?"
I shook my head. "But I think you're right. All these weird occurrences, they haven't been random. And none of it would have happened without the cloak." I looked at Nicholas grimly. "We really need to find your aunt. I think she's trying to warn me."
"Hmm."
Nicholas's gaze drifted to the snowy window. His thoughts seemed far away. "I might have a way to find her." His eyes cleared and he gave a sharp nod.
"We can discuss it more when we're both more rested."
The coffee pot was empty so Nicholas put a kettle of water on to boil for tea.
"Were you close to your aunt?" I asked as he pulled a canister from the cabinet.
He dropped teabags into the kettle, and I smelled the sweet scent of bergamot and mint. "Did you know Aunt Bella was the High Priestess of the Crescent Moon coven?"
"Yes, Maya told me. I was surprised to hear it."
"My grandmother had the position before her, for many years. The coven was different then. Such a long time ago." He paused, lost in thought. "There were seven women, scattered across the States and Europe. They met for a week four times a year, at each of the solar Sabbats. Of course, it was all done in secret. But every third year they would meet at Grandmother's and she allowed me to attend their celebrations."
I tried to imagine what his life had been like as a child, learning witchcraft before he was old enough to go to school. What an odd setting to grow up in. Isolating, yes, but such an advantage. It would have to affect how he related to people around him. There was something different about him, but even after this much time together, I still couldn't tell what exactly. Maybe the eyes?
He met my stare dire
ctly, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth, and I knew what was different about him. Nicholas didn't look at you, he looked into you.
Unnerved, I forced my gaze away from his and onto my teacup, stirring it as I spoke. "Where did your grandmother live?"
Nicholas leaned back in his chair and gestured around him. "This was the stateside covenstead. She divided her time between England and the States. The last time I came to visit I was in college. Then grandmother stepped aside and Aunt Bella took over the coven. But grandmother's the one who taught me most of our family witchcraft."
He grinned. "She was a terrifying old bat." The smile faded. "I'm sure she went out fighting."
"Nicholas, I'm so sorry I was flippant about studying with you," I said. "I feel awful. I had no idea you would be breaking your family's tradition to teach me."
He sighed. "At this point I have few options. My grandparents and mother are dead. My aunt has disappeared. It appears I am the last of our family. I'd hate to see our knowledge die with me."
"Has your family been gone long?"
"No. Grandmother died last year. Car accident."
"Oh! I'm so sorry."
He managed a small, sad smile. "It's been a bad stretch for our family. My mother was murdered the year before."
"Murdered?" I leaned across the table toward him in horror.
"Mugged in New York. Stabbed. She was there for a Sabbat get-together with her friends. She'd gone to the theatre."
"Alone?"
"No," he said. "They all went. Grandmother and Bella were with her, and the other coven members. It rained that night, and the others stayed inside the building to say their goodbyes. Mother had stepped outside to hail a cab." He grimaced. "So much for her divination skills."
He shook himself, as if to rid his mind of the sad memories, and stood up. "You should get to bed. It's nearly dawn."
I looked up at him, still numb from his family tragedies, and followed his gaze to the kitchen window where pale pink tinted the eastern sky. I swiped my tears away with the back of my hand, head down so Nicholas wouldn't see, and nodded. Our conversation, on top of my terrifying drive through the snowstorm, had left me exhausted.
