by T. A. Foster
The last search I typed in was “Simone Davis.” The top article read:
Vegas Model Dies in Car Accident
I scanned the story to discover Simone had died six months after Helen in a car accident in the Mojave Desert. No other people were injured, and there were no other cars at the scene. Hmm.
I pulled up a blank page on my computer and typed my notes from the trip. All of the people involved were dead—Holden, Helen, even Simone—and the diamonds were still on tour. My witchy instincts were tingling and my fingers started buzzing. I had enough to write a novel, an incredible novel, I thought. I better order more coffee and let the words pour from my fingertips.
Sullen’s Grove, Present Day
The flames had quieted to glowing embers and an overwhelming chill filled the room as I finished telling my story. I rubbed my arms up and down to the rhythm of the clock. I waited for a reaction. Jack stared at me as if I were a zoo animal on display. The last log cracked in half and hit the bottom pile of ashes.
Jack’s voice erupted through the silence. “For Christ’s sake, Ivy! You expect me to believe this? You’re a witch? And you time travel? And there’s someone out there who is threatening us, threatening you and me and our families, because of some diamond-murder mystery?” He stormed out of his chair and paced the floor. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe this!” He threw his hands in the air. “I’m supposed to believe that you’re telling me there’s magic and you saw someone murdered, and you actually witnessed a diamond heist?” He paced more. “What the hell, Ivy? A witch?” He stopped and his eyes locked on the floor. He couldn’t look at me. “I’m going to get some more wood, don’t move, or should I say, don’t Time Spell until I get back.” He huffed past me and I heard the back door slam shut.
Well, I guess that could have gone worse. I let my shoulders sag and slid into the chair now that he was out of the room. I didn’t know what his reaction would be to the story. Of all of the circumstances imaginable, this wasn’t how I had ever envisioned telling him.
For two years, I had daydreams and night dreams of us wrapped up in front of some cozy cabin fireplace in big quilts, our clothes strewn all over the house, drinking wine and laughing. We had probably been there all day, making love on the floor, stopping to feed each other strawberries and cereal, telling each other stories, and talking about how we knew from the moment we had met that we would end up like this, on the floor in a cabin, naked. And I’d just tell him.
I would say, “Jack, you know all of those funny little things I do and how I know all of these little stories no one else knows? Well, that’s because I have magic. I’m a witch.”
And in this little fantasy of mine, he wouldn’t answer, he wouldn’t look shocked or disgusted or angry or scared, he would pull me under him with his strong arms, brush back my hair, and kiss me until we both needed to come up for air.
The armful of logs Jack carried dropped to the floor, and he grabbed the fire poker to stir the dying embers. Back in reality, I was afraid to speak, afraid he would start yelling again, or worse, afraid he would leave. Once the splintered wood started to catch and warmth returned to the room, he headed for the makeshift bar and poured two more drinks. He handed one to me.
“Show me.” He looked me straight in the eyes. “Show me, Ivy. I want to see it.”
I took the glass from his outstretched hand, but I was shaken by his request. “I can’t. It’s not like that.”
“Show me or I’m calling the police.” His words were firm.
“It’s not that I don’t want to show you, it’s just that I’ve never shown anyone before. I mean not anyone without magic. This is breaking every rule that I live by, that my family lives by.” I sipped the drink, trying to stall. “You’re asking too much. You have to trust me. I told you everything I know from my Vegas trip. We can figure the rest of it out together.”
I didn’t want to sound desperate. I wanted to sound strong and like a confident witch, but my pleas came out more like whimpers.
“We only have a few days to figure this out, or they’re going to start picking off our families one by one. If you really expect me to believe this convoluted story, you show me.” He tipped back his shot of bourbon and looked at me. He planted himself in the doorway of the study and waited.
I placed my drink on the coffee table next to the letter and stood in the center of the room. My pulse was racing and I bit my lip trying to control my breathing. No non-magical person had seen my magic before. This was a secret not to be broken, not ever to be broken, but I knew lives were at stake and I had already decided to trust Jack when I told him about my Time Spell.
I focused on my hand and lifted my palm in front of my chest.
“Illuminate,” I whispered, and a soft glowing orb of light formed in my hand and hovered.
I let it float in the air for a few seconds, just long enough for Jack to study it. It bobbed up and down, illuminating my face and the space around my hands. Then, I dropped my palm to my side and the orb’s light disintegrated. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet his and I could feel a tear sliding down my cheek.
I had broken my family’s bond. I had shared my magic.
JACK DIDN’T move. He stood firmly anchored with his arms crossed. I was afraid of what I had done, afraid that I had terrified him. What did I expect him to do after I showed him a magical glowing orb in the palm of my hand?
Whenever I was around Jack and I wasn’t deploying flirty tactics on him in the office or participating in relentless arguments over chapter rewrites, I studied him. I loved the way he analyzed the words I had written, the way he could change only one little word and an entire page came to life. He understood great literature and quoted my favorite writers. He was the perfect combination of super smart and ruggedly sexy.
We had spent late nights cooped up in his office, ordering bad pepperoni pizza, laughing about how tired we’d be the next morning, and trudging through my manuscripts. He had coaxed me out of my shell as a writer. He coached me through chapter after chapter, challenging me to be better, pushing me to take chances.
Jack was smart and pensive—I’d even dare to say brooding—when it came to novels he was focused on. He was sure and confident about the choices he made and never wavered on the direction of the story.
I knew what it felt like to rely on your own instincts. I trusted mine infinitely more than anyone else’s around me and I admired Jack for always standing his ground. Publishing houses were a business that needed customers. Those customers wanted sex, love, and intrigue, but he wasn’t always ready to feed the masses. He tried to protect the writing, protect the craft, and even in my short stint in the writing world, I knew that type of loyalty was rare.
Before my whirlwind trip to New York for the Vegas Star premiere, I was so engrossed with selecting outfits to pack, scheduling my stylist appointment, and setting up press interviews that I didn’t call Jack before I left for the airport. I had just enough time to lock the front door, hug Cooper good-bye, and lug my suitcases into the back of the cab before racing off to make my flight. I needed to blend in like a normal girl, and flying in and out of airports added to that normalcy factor. Plus, what a pain to conjure up a flying spell for my luggage and me.
Gina informed me a few weeks before the big trip that no one else from Raven Publishing would be accompanying me to New York. There were little funds for marketing, and the accountants deemed it more important to send me to New York with first class arrangements versus sending Jack or Gina with me on a low-rent budget. My heart sank when I heard the budget cuts would keep Jack in Sullen’s Grove. I wanted to see the city with him. I really wanted to see him in a tuxedo at the premiere of Vegas Star. Maybe it would even be a chance to chip away at the professional wall he had built between us. I pushed the disappointment to the side and focused on what was ahead of me—a fabulous, all-expense paid trip to New York City and a stroll on the red carpet. I told myself as long as I kept writing, there would be a
nother chance to see Jack out of the confines of the office.
On the way to the airport, I wrestled with the questions that kept sneaking into my mind. Should I contact him before the flight? Should I call when I landed? Outwardly, I tried to respect the boundaries he’d established for us as working partners, but on the inside, I let my daydreams cross boundaries with him at every encounter. Maybe I could call once I got settled in my hotel or maybe right before the premier. Loaded with my laptop, I boarded the plane. I stretched out in my reclined first class upgrade seat. Thank you, Raven Publishing. I smiled. One last email check before takeoff, and there it was sitting in my inbox, a message from Jack Coleman:
Ivy,
Sorry I’m going to miss your big debut. The world is going to love Vegas Star and you. I’m just glad I got to know you first. See you when you get back—let’s start on the sequel.
Jack
I blinked hard and stared at the screen again while the coiffed flight attendant requested all electronic devices be turned off before taxiing. The two gentlemen across the aisle mumbled under their breaths and powered down their laptops while reaching out for another Bloody Mary refill. I tucked my phone in the front pocket of my purse, and shoved it under the seat. I couldn’t think of a better way to start my New York weekend.
That trip was weeks ago and tonight everything had changed. In this moment, it was hard to imagine Jack and I working together on my next book. I couldn’t imagine he wanted anything to do with me. A growing emptiness churned in my stomach.
The ring from Jack’s cell phone broke the silence that had settled over the room. He reached into his front pocket and looked puzzled at the number flashing on the screen.
“Yeah? Yes, we got it.” Jack raised his voice and roared into the phone, “Who do you think you are? … Wait, just wait… Yeah, I understand.” Someone had cut him off, and he shoved the phone back in his pocket.
“Who was it?” I searched his eyes for an answer. “What did they say?”
“Them.” He pointed to the letter on the table. “He wanted to make sure we got the package and we agreed to the terms.”
“Terms? What terms? We have to do what they’ve told us or else they’re going after our families and us. Did you recognize his voice? Was he old or young or did he have any identifiable traits in his voice?” I searched for any tiny morsel of information to lead us to the identity of our tormentors.
“No, I don’t know who in the hell he is, or who they are. I didn’t recognize anything in the voice.”
The phone call had interrupted Jack’s concentration on the illumination orb, but I sensed he didn’t want to ignore it. It wouldn’t be that easy. “Ivy, how, how could you make that light? I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”
“I tried to explain it. It’s magic. It’s one of the many talents I have.” I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. I couldn’t read Jack. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling about the orb or me.
He left his post in the doorway and walked toward me. I stiffened as he put a hand on each of my arms. He gave me a slight squeeze.
“I get it now. I’m starting to understand. We can’t take this to the police. We can’t tell anyone else, but I think you know more than what you’re telling me. There is more to this, and I know you have to have more answers. I will do anything to keep them from getting to my sister.” He sighed. “Emily, her name is Emily. She doesn’t deserve this. I have to protect her from these people. Help me, Ivy. Help me keep her safe. Can you do that?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a silver frame positioned on the edge of one of Jack’s bookcases. A picture of a young girl with flowing hair, a wide headband, and the contagious smile of a sixteen-year-old beamed at me from the end of the room. Jack had his arm wrapped around her shoulder. He was proudly donning a graduation cap. It struck me in that moment I didn’t really know anything about Jack’s family or his life outside of work. I certainly didn’t know he had a younger sister. The picture of the happy siblings captured in that milestone moment at Jack’s college graduation made me think about Ian and how close we are. We had been together for all of those life moments too. Now, Ian was in danger just like Jack’s sister. The only difference was that Ian had magic on his side. Emily was vulnerable, and her life was in danger because of me.
“Can we do this together? Can you help me keep them away from her?” he asked.
The feelings he had for his sister outweighed anything he thought or felt about the revelation I had shared with him. He didn’t care if I was a witch or a waitress. He wanted to protect Emily.
I looked into his chestnut brown eyes and reassured him with a smile. “Yes, Jack. We can do this.”
The hollow pit receded. I felt like, for the first time all night, I could breathe. Suddenly, the danger I was in didn’t seem so threatening. He needed me. Jack needed me. Not the regular girl who wrote words for him, but the real me, Ivy the witch.
I RUMMAGED through the piles scattered on top of Jack’s desk. His workspace was tucked in the corner of his study. I needed paper and a pen. A legal pad with several pages of notes was buried under a stack of letters, and I rolled back the pages, grabbed a pen, and pushed them into Jack’s hands.
“Ok, just like at work, you take the notes, I’ll think through the story,” I directed.
He sat in the leather chair and started making charts on the yellow-lined paper. I stood in front of the fire, forcing my brain to think harder, think through all of the details of that 1968 trip to Las Vegas.
“Maybe you should retrace the steps of Vegas Star. What else did you see that you didn’t write? Is it possible someone did see you? Maybe you misunderstood what was going on with Helen and Simone. How do you know for sure you’re invisible when you travel? What if it faded?”
Jack had more questions than I had answers. I could tell we might end up spending more time on deciphering the ends and outs of my magic than on who the nefarious people were who sent the threatening letter. I had to be careful. I had already shared too much. There were consequences I would have to face.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but I can’t answer everything for you right now. I’ve already shown you and told you more than you can imagine. I’ll go over the story again, but this isn’t about my magic right now. It’s about finding these people before they get to us. And from what I heard on the phone, they may have already shortened the clock.”
I picked up the letter and traced the ink stains with my finger, swirling around each sentence, making a figure eight.
“Is that…are you doing a spell right now?” Jack stopped making his chart and watched me intently.
I glared at him.
“No, never mind. Just keep going. I’ll make the chart.” He returned to his task.
I focused on the letter. There was no spell I could perform on the writing to find its originator. I could only memorize every evil word that dripped from the page.
Dear Mr. Coleman,
You have in your possession knowledge of a chain of events that occurred in 1968. This knowledge is most certainly not to my benefit. It must be erased and extinguished immediately. However, I am quite reasonable and I’m sure you will find the following requests agreeable. In exchange for the lives of your sister and Ms. Grace’s family, I will accept the remaining VonRue diamonds, proof there will be no sequel to Vegas Star, and I want Ivy Grace. She’s not who you think she is, Mr. Coleman. Please, do not involve the authorities; it will only expedite the pursuit of your families. Enclosed you will find a most gracious invitation with additional instructions. Expect to hear from me soon.
Of course there was no signature, no return address, and no postmark on the manila package. I reached inside and pulled out a hotel key and two airline tickets. The flight was booked for tomorrow, and there was a ticket for Jack and one for me. We had four days to meet the demands of these lunatics. I glared at the destination: Las Vegas.
“Jot some of this down and we�
��ll piece it together.” I ran my fingers through my hair and piled it high on my head in a bun. “At the top of your columns write Helen, Simone, and Holden.”
Dutifully, Jack wrote the names and bordered each one with a box. He waited for me to dole out a plethora of information. Details, details, I needed Jack to help me sift through the details.
Las Vegas, Two Years Ago
After I left Simone’s suite in 1968 and Time Spelled back to the present, I stayed at the Starlight for the rest of the week. I sorted through online newspaper articles, researched the Chadsworths, and outlined the parts of the story I wanted to tell. I knew I wanted to write about Helen and Simone. They were fascinating, strong, and beautiful women, one thirty-five, the other twenty-five. They were determined to power through life unaffected by love and uninhibited by men, one man in particular. I also knew I wanted to weave the glamorous casino and hotel empire into the story. Then, there were the diamonds—the VonRue diamonds. But I was still confused. I replayed the scene over in my mind. Simone had scattered the gems across the bed, and the women had toasted to their success.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through to find the pictures I had snapped in Holden’s office. I reread the contract and focused on “Helen VonRue Chadsworth.” If the diamonds were in Helen’s family, how could Holden have used them for collateral for the casino? Who orchestrated the national tours of the diamond exhibit? I grabbed my coat and decided to hit the Las Vegas library. Even in this high-tech world, sometimes the best information was still on microfilm.
The library sprawled along Las Vegas Boulevard as if to stake out the best sunning spot in the desert. I smiled as I inhaled the familiar scent of fully stocked bookshelves. I waved at the librarian at the front desk. A quick peek at the directory pointed me toward the microfilm room. I selected an open cubicle and began searching for any article I could find on the VonRue diamonds.
