The Emerald Key

by Vicky Burkholder

  “Could you send Nic in here for a minute?” She chewed her lip, regretting how harsh her words sounded.

  Dori studied Cass, her dark eyes showing not anger, but worry. “Sure.”

  Cass ignored the questions in her friend’s face. “It’s all right, Dori. Just ask him to come in, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Cass waited for Nic by the window. She rubbed the already fading raw, red marks on her wrists. Who waited in the shadows for her? Who could do these things to her? She turned from the view when Nic entered. “I’m being watched.”

  Nic strode to the window and peered outside. “What? When? Where did you see him?”

  “A minute ago. In the field. He’s gone now.”

  He dropped the curtains and turned to her, eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you call me as soon as you saw him? We could have followed him.”

  “I don’t think so. He didn’t really go anywhere. He appeared there, then he disappeared.”

  Nic stared at her. “You want to explain that?”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “He’s a ghost?”

  She shook her head. “No. But I think he can appear and disappear as he wants.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t you believe me?” For some reason, having him believe her became extremely important. Would he accept power as real? Or shrug it off like Steve as the product of a fanciful imagination? Though to be fair to Steve, she’d never really shown him what she could do.

  She and her aunt had powers normal people didn’t. But they had to be careful how and when they used them. She knew others in this world also had magical gifts. Cass never understood where the magic came from or why she had it, but it formed a part of her, like her hair color. Yes, charlatans existed who professed to be connected to other realms, but except for a select few, those with real gifts didn’t usually advertise their abilities. Those who did couched it in terms of sleight of hand or illusions. What would Nic think if he ran up against true magic?

  Nic shrugged. “I’ve seen some odd things in my line of work, but most could be explained by logical means.”

  Dori rapped at the door frame. “Hey you two, are you coming to dinner? Or are you going to stay here together? If so, you really should shut the door.” She leered at the two of them and Cass’ face heated up.

  “Shards, not you too. It’s bad enough I have to put up with that from Aunt Minerva.” She watched as Nic hurried out and had to admit, he did have some awfully good attributes, even with the limp. And the man could kiss. She pulled her gaze back to Dori. “Besides, Steve will be back tomorrow night. We have plans.” They really didn’t, but she could come up with something between now and then. Something to distract her from Nic and the dark stranger.

  Dori’s snort didn’t surprise Cass. She knew Dori’s point of view concerning Steve and, like Minerva’s, it didn’t fall into the realm of happily ever after.

  “Honey, Steve’s not the right man for you. You need someone who will let you be who you are. And that’s not as a piece of eye candy on his arm. Now Nic—there’s someone who could get your blood—and other parts—heating up but good.”

  Cass shooed her out. “Enough already! Go. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m going. But ask yourself this about Steve—are you happier when he’s around, or when he’s not? Imagine your future. Whose face is on the pillow next to you?”

  Before Cass could answer, Dori left. But her words lingered. Cass closed her eyes and tried to imagine her future. The face she saw belonged to Nic. As if he fit there. Why? She didn’t even know him. And didn’t like him much. He came across as bossy and demanding and…and…sexy as hell. “Damn.”

  She exhaled loudly and joined the others in the kitchen.

  Cass didn’t feel like eating, but the food tasted so good, she ended up eating more than she thought she could. The four of them chatted and joked and laughed, ignoring the reason Cass had come. Finally, they finished eating, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher, and had nearly finished their after-dinner drinks before the subject arose.

  “Greg? Does your offer for me to stay here still stand?” Nic asked.

  Greg glanced from him to Cass and back to Nic, eyes thoughtful and head cocked to one side. “Yes. Problem is we only have one spare bedroom and we haven’t finished the basement yet. It’s still stacked full of boxes and crates from our move.”

  “You have this futon.” Nic patted the sofa where he sat with Dori.

  “If you’re sure…” Greg said.

  “I am.”

  Greg nodded. “Dori can make it up for you. I’m going to check the locks.”

  Cass yawned. “I’ll leave you three to talk. I’m beat and think I’ll turn in. Good night, all.”

  “Night, Cass,” Dori and the others said.

  * * * *

  Nic watched her go. What had she done to him? He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe. And wanted to kiss her senseless and bed her so much he hurt. He’d never experienced any such inclinations before. Why her? Yes, she looked endearingly beautiful, but so did other women. Her head barely reached his shoulder, but her presence made her larger than life. And he’d never seen anyone with eyes the shade of hers—a light brown that shone gold in certain light. Though she tried to hide it, the concern in those eyes bothered him the most. He needed to find out more about her. And that strange aunt of hers. And her so-called boyfriend. If he had a woman like Cass, he’d do everything in his power to keep her safe. That dork didn’t seem to realize what he had. Idiot.

  “Greg? You mind if I do some Web searching?” he asked.

  “You can use my office if you want.”

  “Nah, I know you have things you need to do. I’ll use the wireless hookup on my laptop if that’s okay with you?”

  “Sure. I’ll get you logged in. You need anything, just yell.”

  After Greg did his thing, Nic set his laptop up on the kitchen table and started his search. No neophyte to Web searching, he still found his efforts frustratingly useless. Two hours later, he rolled the tension out of his shoulders and shut his search down. He knew no more about Cass and Minerva now than he did when he started. Oh, he’d found out surface stuff—the basic garbage anyone can find on the Web. But when he went deeper, he discovered very little. Minerva seemed to have appeared out of nowhere at the same time Cass’ parents died. He ran his hand through his hair. He sensed that he knew Minerva, not as well as he did Cass, but he knew her. It made no sense. He’d just met her. So how did he know her? And from where? It was like trying to remember a dream, one he couldn’t quite catch hold of.

  He stopped that search and tried another.

  The boyfriend had a lot more information available. He had all the right stuff to make a good politico. All very neat. Too neat. In his experience, everyone had something off in their background. He just needed to dig deeper. He also didn’t understand where Cass fit in with the man’s obvious ambitions. Her type of store would draw a lot of criticism. Plus, she had neither money nor powerful connections, so why choose her? He could understand the sentiments on the surface. Who wouldn’t want someone as beautiful, strong, and unique as her? She had everything a man could want in a woman. But from what he’d seen in the store earlier, they had little heat between them. He’d seen divorcing couples with more passion than he saw there. So what did Cass mean to him? Like an odd piece to a puzzle, something didn’t quite fit.

  He finished his searching, put the laptop away, and made a cup of hot cocoa to help him sleep. He’d just poured the fragrant brew when he heard a noise behind him and turned. His breath stopped at the vision in front of him.

  * * * *

  Cass had gone to her room earlier, but sleep eluded her. She’d stayed away from the windows, hung up her skirts and poet’s shirt, and slipped into a long silk negligee. Though most of her clothing fit her more practical side, she had a passion for the sensation of silk against her skin so
wore it as often as possible. She also wrapped a warm robe around herself. Dori and Greg liked to keep the temperature cooler than she did.

  She willed her cell phone to ring with a call from Steve, but when it remained silent, she slid into the chilly sheets and drew the quilts up. It took a few minutes for her body heat to warm the bed. Steve didn’t like her to call him in case she caught him in the middle of something for work. She understood his reasoning, but sometimes, like now, she just wanted to talk. She’d go to Dori, but she could hear the muffled sounds of Greg and Dori talking in the next room and didn’t want to disturb them.

  She rolled to her side and laid her hand on the second pillow. Like earlier, Nic’s face appeared in her mind, lying next to her. But how could that be? She knew nothing about him. Did he have a family? A wife? Her hand caressed the empty pillow. No matter what her mind said, her heart knew he belonged there. She chewed her lip. He belonged there? As in Nic, not Steve. Some dark stranger she’d just met. Why Nic? And why now?

  Cass turned onto her back, closed her eyes and chanted a mantra she always found calming. An hour later, she felt no closer to sleep than when she’d first climbed into bed. She rose, wrapped the robe around her gown, and headed for the kitchen and a cup of hot cocoa. To her surprise, she found Nic there, mug in hand.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

  “No. Is that cocoa?” He wore a faded T-shirt and loose sweats and she thought nobody had ever looked so good. His muscles bulged in all the right places, but not overdone like a professional body builder. She noted scars along his left arm and on both bare feet and wondered what had happened to him. But even with the scars, she had to admit he drew her to him. She forced herself to breathe and hoped he couldn’t hear her wildly beating heart.

  He nodded. “Sit. I’ll fix you a cup.” He heated the chocolate and milk, then poured in a healthy dose of Bailey’s Irish Cream. At Cass’ raised eyebrow, he grinned. “It helps. Here.”

  “What? No marshmallows?” she asked.

  “Whipped cream would be better.”

  Cass rose and opened the fridge. “Dori made a gingerbread cake last week and…there.” She pulled out a glass bowl filled with whipped cream. “Voilà. Whipped cream. And not that chemically-induced nondairy stuff either. This is the real deal.” She added a generous dollop to each cup.

  She took a sip of her drink and coughed as the fiery liquid burned a path down her throat and tears sprang to her eyes. “Whew! Now that’s a cup of cocoa.”

  Nic spun a chair around and straddled it. “Mind if I ask you some questions?”

  “Not if you don’t mind if I don’t answer some.” She stirred her spoon through the chocolate, making patterns in the cream.

  “Fair enough. Do you know who your stalker is?”

  “All I have is the name he uses in his e-mails.” The patterns started to form letters.

  “The Brotherhood of Ahmit?”

  “Yes.” An “N” followed by an “i” and a “c” formed in the beverage. She stirred harder, obscuring the pattern, then took a drink, downing the offending cream.

  “Who are they?”

  Cass shrugged. She knew bits and pieces, but nothing of substance. “I really haven’t done a lot of searching. I figured someone was playing a prank, so I mostly ignored it.”

  “So why you? What is in your past that someone would want to take vengeance on you? Especially in such gruesome detail.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.”

  “Tell me about yourself.”

  “There’s not much to tell. I grew up here. My parents died in a car accident when I was three and Aunt Minerva raised me. She’s not really my aunt, more of a distant cousin I guess, but she stepped in when my folks died and took me on. She had her teashop and a couple of years ago, we expanded to include more retail. She’s been letting me take over more and more. Claims she’s getting too old for running a shop.”

  “She lives nearby?”

  “A couple of blocks over. She has her own place.”

  “Alone?”

  Cass laughed. “Yes, alone. Minerva would kick the first person to suggest she slow down. She not only has her own place, but along with me, she owns the building our store is in and two more places as well.”

  “What do you call your store?”

  “Madam Minerva’s Mystical Manor.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Not at all.”

  “I’m assuming the madam part isn’t, um…”

  Cass burst out laughing. Nic’s glance back the hall reminded her about Dori and Greg, but the more she tried to quiet her laughter, the harder it became. “She is not a madam. But she’ll love that you thought so. No, Aunt Minerva is a seer. She reads tarot, palms, tells fortunes, stuff like that, but all for entertainment purposes only. I’m the one who sells magical paraphernalia and jewelry.”

  Nic’s smile warmed her more than the cocoa. In fact, she felt downright hot.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Completely.”

  “And people pay you for this?”

  “Enough to make a good living. I sense a skeptic.”

  “As I said before, I keep an open mind, but I do have my limits.”

  “Do you want your cocoa warmed up?” Cass asked, tempted to show him something that might test those limits, but she held back. No sense alienating the one person trying to help her.

  “No, I’m good. So why don’t you and your aunt live together? It would cut down on expenses and you could be around to help her out.”

  “Aunt Minerva claims I cramp her style. Actually, I believe she thinks if I live with her, I’ll never get out.”

  His hand lay next to hers on the table. He had long, tapered fingers and strong wrists. The thin white lines of scars ran over the left one. She’d always been fascinated by people’s hands, believing they showed more of a person than the face. Faces could be changed through makeup or plastic surgery, but rarely hands.

  “So do you?”

  She forced her thoughts back to the conversation. “What? Get out? When I have time. The store keeps me pretty busy.”

  “That sounds like an excuse. What about that poster-boy cop I saw earlier?”

  “Steve? We’re…” How to explain their relationship. She had no idea anymore. Not after meeting Nic. “We’re sort of a couple.”

  “A couple of what? Didn’t look like a couple of lovebirds to me earlier. Seemed more like friends—maybe friends with privileges, but still just friends.”

  “That’s none of your business.” Cass’ face heated up. She’d had dates with other men, but rarely more than one or two. Even with Steve, they’d dated more or less steadily mostly because neither one had time to look for anyone else. She cared for him, but did she love him? Certainly not the way Dori and Greg loved each other.

  No one had ever touched a spark in her. As a teen, her aunt had told her she would know when she found the right man, that she would feel it in her soul. She studied Nic. Nic was so wrong for her. A man of action, he lived in a world of violence and mistrust. And yet, she saw his face next to hers in her mind. His eyes held a depth of life lived too hard. But, like a piece of layered candy, within the hardness, she also saw softness.

  A tiny dimple flickered in his right cheek when he smiled. He didn’t smile enough. Or maybe too much. The effect sped up her heart and sent waves of heat to her core. A dab of whipped cream on his upper lip begged her attention. Cass leaned forward, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. She stopped a foot away from him, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Instead of touching lips, she reached out one finger and wiped the offending dollop off, then slowly licked her finger. She smiled when Nic’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrow rose. Then she drew back. What the hell? She’d just met this man. She covered her embarrassment with a yawn.

  “Oh, sorry. I guess the cocoa’s kicking in.”

  Nic took their mugs and rinsed them in the sink.


  “Gee, he makes cocoa and cleans up after.”

  He bowed low. “Ah, just two of my many talents, my lady.”

  “Sir Nicodemus, you are definitely a man among men, but it is not your talent for refreshment which draws me.” Cass stopped, her brow furrowed as Nic froze in front of her. “I’m sorry! I don’t know where that came from. Your name…”

  “Technically, is Nicodemus. How did you know that? Nobody knows that. Not even Greg.” He remembered her aunt Minerva using his real name earlier. Cass must have heard it then. But how had her aunt known?

  “I…I don’t know. It just felt right.”

  “Most people would guess at Nicholas, but not the other. You feel it too, don’t you? I know you. But I don’t,” Nic said.

  “It’s not possible. I don’t know you. I can’t,” Cass whispered. “Can I?”

  Nic ran his hand over his short hair. “Look, I don’t know what’s happening here. I’m here about a job. With Greg. I’ve met Dori a couple of times, but never felt this…connection like I seem to have with you. But we’ve never met. Have we?”

  “No. Believe me, I’d remember meeting you.” She reached up to touch his face, then drew back. “But I know you, too. You’re my Protector. You’re Nicodemus.”

  He studied her with eyes full of pain, and passion. “And you’re my Cassandra. Mine to protect. Mine to love.”

  Cass jumped when he said “love.” “I…I have to go. Thank you for the cocoa. Good night.” She bolted like a scared rabbit running from a falcon. She dashed back to her room, but instead of crawling under the covers, she pulled out her box of crystals. After selecting the ones she wanted, she sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, hands on her knees, eyes closed, stones of power surrounding her.

  “Spirits who protect me, spirits who see. Show me the past for Nicodemus and me. So mote I say. So mote it be.”

  Instead of swirling grayness giving way to clarity and mental pictures telling her what she wanted, the fog never lifted. She tried several times, all with the same result.

  “Cassandra?” Minerva’s voice broke into Cass’ thoughts. “Let it go. Just accept what is.”