Waiting for Magic

by Susan Squires

  Waiting for Magic

  Susan Squires

  Version 1.0 – October 2013

  Copyright 2013 by Susan Squires

  Discover other titles by Susan Squires at http://www.susansquires.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Other Books by Susan Squires

  Danegeld

  Sacrament

  Body Electric

  Danelaw

  No More Lies

  Sacrilege (novella in The Only One)

  The Companion (Companion Vampire Series #1)

  The Hunger (Companion #2)

  The Burning (Companion #3)

  One With the Night (Companion #4)

  One With the Shadows (Companion #5)

  One With the Darkness (Companion #6)

  Time for Eternity (Da Vinci Time Travel Series #1)

  Twist In Time (Da Vinci #2)

  Mists of Time (Da Vinci #3)

  Do You Believe In Magic? (Children of Merlin Series #1)

  He’s A Magic Man (Children of Merlin #2)

  Your Magic Touch (Children of Merlin Novella)

  Critical Acclaim For New York Times Bestselling Author Susan Squires

  “Superb writing, vivid narrative combined with complex plotting, and intricate characterization make each novel by Ms. Squires an absolute winner.” Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  “Susan Squires has a fascinating, unique voice:[she] is a rare talent.” New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan

  “Few writers combine a sensual romance within a supernatural thriller as well as Susan Squires consistently does.” Midwest Book Review

  “Full of colorful characters, romantic locales and vivid details of 1820’s life [One With The Shadows] has a delicious pace and plenty of thrills...” Publisher’s Weekly (A Best Book of the Year)

  “Do You Believe In Magic? is an entertaining and exciting paranormal romance that will leave fans desperate for more. This novel features a great couple introduces a charismatic family and sets up what should be a very fascinating series.” (Four Stars) The Romance Review

  “...action, adventure, magic fighting, loving and more. Since it is the first of a series, there are enough threads left dangling that you know it’s going to continue yet the story gives a satisfying ending. Recommended for anyone who likes paranormal romance...” (Four Stars) Nightowlreviews on Do You Believe In Magic?

  “Squires’ deft plotting and full-bodied characters make this whirlwind adventure worthwhile.” Publishers’ Weekly on Body Electric

  “A darkly compelling vampire romance...the plot keeps the reader turning pages long into the night.” Affaire de Coeur on The Companion

  CHAPTER ONE

  “What?” Kemble Tremaine never used that tone of voice with his father. His only excuse was that he was shocked.

  Miles Vanderlaan, their new corporate lawyer, snapped his gaze up from the contracts he was reading in surprise. The three of them were in the office wing of the Breakers, cleaning up details of the latest acquisition.

  “I said I’d like you to focus on acquiring some objects for the museum. Miles can help you with the contracts.” Senior’s tone was mild, just as though he hadn’t practically slapped Kemble. When his father was stretched thin managing Tremaine Enterprises and the family was in constant danger of attack, to relegate Kemble to buying antiques.…

  “They have an acquisitions department,” he said, jaw clenching. “You give them the money, they buy the stuff.” This was a make-work job. A flush rose from his neck into his face.

  “Is that really necessary?” Miles asked. “Kemble should be focused on absorbing the new acquisition.”

  Senior got that “Captain of Industry” look about his mouth. “Cameron Phelps is a good man. He’s brought Petra this far and he’s eager for it to be a part of our family of companies. He and Johnson can handle the integration.”

  Miles shut down. One didn’t argue with that tone. He began packing up his contracts.

  But Kemble couldn’t let it go. “How am I ever going to take over for you if you never let me do the important things?”

  “Are you planning a coup?” His father had picked up the quarterly reports on the wind farms and was leafing through them.

  “Of course not,” Kemble snapped. He was only too aware that he’d never be able to match a father who could do anything after simply being told about it or reading a book. That included anything his sons were interested in doing; surfing, music, engineering, sailing, racecar driving. Didn’t matter. He sighed. “But you have to retire sometime.”

  Kemble couldn’t believe he’d said that. His father looked up, his sharp blue eyes fixed on his son. There wouldn’t be anything he didn’t see, once he focused. He just didn’t often focus on Kemble. His oldest son was just part of the Tremaine Enterprise infrastructure.

  “I’ll have these ready tomorrow,” Miles said, as he closed his briefcase. His expression was impassive. There was no way he’d get between Brian Tremaine and his son. “I’ll let you know if the final proposals on the wind farm come in.” He gave a nod and vacated, while Kemble stood there, stiff with rage.

  “Is this because I don’t have magic?” Maybe he could blurt it out because he’d begun to accept that fact, depressing as it was. “And not likely to get any at thirty-six. Maybe you could bring Tristram into the business, or Drew.” They’d each found a soul mate who also had the magic gene. They’d gotten a power.

  His father blinked at him. “You’re kidding, of course. They have no interest in the company. You’re it. Even Tristram calls you ‘the Prince of Wales.’ ”

  “What difference does that make?” All the frustration of the last years welled up into Kemble’s throat. “I’ll never be an Adapter. I’ll never be able to run the business or lead the family like you do. But that doesn’t matter, because you’ll never retire. So that leaves me where? Acquiring artifacts for the museum.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” his father asked, anger rising. “I ask you to take on an important task and you throw a fit like a five-year-old.”

  “Important,” Kemble snorted. “Acquiring artifacts?”

  Senior was about to retort, but caught himself. A look of surprise crossed his face before his expression turned wry. “I couldn’t call them Tarot Talismans in front of Miles, now could I?”

  Kemble felt his anger drain away, probably along with the rest of the blood in his face. His father was asking him to take responsibility for acquiring Talismans?

  Senior tossed the reports onto the conference table. Behind him, French doors looked out across the terrace and lawns, past the pergola covered in bougainvillea to the iron gray of the Pacific and Catalina Island. The sky was fractious with storm clouds. It was supposed to rain like sixty later. “I’ve been wrong, Kemble,” his father said, leveling his gaze at his son.

  Kemble raised his brows, stunned into silence.

  “I know. I know. I don’t admit that often enough.” His father rubbed the bridge of his nose. Kemble had never really noticed the gray infiltrating his father’s black hair, or the lines deepening around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. His father looked at that moment as though he had turned the corner out of middle age. What was he, fifty-nine? Kemble had always thought Senior was invincible, but his father was tired. Kemble felt the supports knocked out from under his world.

  Senior looked up. “I’ve been fighting a defensive battle. I’ve tried everything I know to keep
you all safe from the old woman and the Clan.”

  “And you’re doing a great job. The Secret Service could learn some tricks from you.”

  His father stared up at the painting that looked vaguely like a Rothko on the conference room wall. His sister Keelan’s work, of course. “I’ve thought about selling the company so we could keep a lower profile. Move the family somewhere harder to find.”

  Kemble was really shocked now. “Tremaine Enterprises is force for good in the world. That counts for something. Besides….”

  “I know. Your mother wouldn’t let me.”

  Exactly what Kemble had been thinking.

  Senior sighed. “But my family is paying the price for this feud.”

  “Tamsen was homeschooled. Big deal.”

  “We’re under siege, Kemble. Keelan can’t study in Paris. Lanyon had to turn down Julliard. Children grown and married are still living on the estate. We’re a compound.”

  “It’s how things are. You didn’t start this thing. The old woman found you.”

  Senior leaned over the table on braced arms and hung his head. Then he pounded the table so the pile of reports jumped. Kemble jumped too. “That’s the problem. We’re playing defense when we should be playing offense.” For the first time, Kemble saw fear in his father’s eyes. “We’ll make a mistake … or one of the children will run off in frustration like Drew and make themselves vulnerable. That was almost a disaster. And she wins.”

  Kemble was shaken.

  “And I might not catch her next plot. There have been six or seven since she brought down Lehman Brothers.”

  “That was the Clan?” The ensuing recession had caused misery for untold millions.

  “She tanked the economy and then bought up banking shares, knowing the government would have to bail them out. These weather-related disasters? The old woman’s weather witch. Tornados, storm surges. How do I stop those?”

  Kemble felt small. If his father couldn’t stop the Clan, who could? “What do we do?”

  His father turned. “It’s what you do, son.”

  “Me?” Panic squeezed his chest. His dismay at being relegated to the sidelines was nothing compared to the dread of having such an important, impossible task.

  “Morgan said to me once that with a ritual and just the right timing, Talismans could increase our powers. What if she’s right? What if more still exist? If she gets them all, she might be invincible. Lehman Brothers and a few bad storms would be dwarfed by the things she could do to the world. I should have been working on finding them since the moment we got back from Chicago, not just hunkering down at the Breakers and thwarting a few plots.”

  “If you need to find something, Michael’s your man. He’s the Finder.” Kemble found he could breathe again. Not his job. Not his imminent failure.

  “He could find the Sword because the Clan discovered what it looked like.” Senior ran his fingers through his hair. “I have no idea what the other Talismans look like.” He got up to pace the conference room. “If they still exist. They’ve had sixteen centuries since Merlin’s day to disappear. And if we do find them, we have no idea how to use them to augment our power.” His father rounded on Kemble. “We’re totally in the dark. That’s not a place I like to be.”

  Kemble got that. An Adapter could do anything, but he had to know what to do first. It must frustrate the hell out of Senior. Still.… “You can’t think I can help here.”

  His father strode forward and took Kemble’s shoulder. His grip was firm, steadying. “You may be the only one who can, son. If the Talismans are out there, someone knows about it. And these days, if knowledge exists, it’s in the virtual universe. Nobody is better with computers than you are. You can hack anything, which means you can look everywhere.”

  His father valued him? Kemble had to remind himself to breathe. It was what he’d always wanted. But that made disabusing Senior of his confidence feel even worse. “Any trace would be in old manuscripts or something.…”

  His father turned and stood with his hands in his pockets, looking out at Catalina again. Was he embarrassed by that moment of connection with his oldest son? “All transcribed online. You’ll get Drew to help you, of course. She’s a history major. She found the true origin of the tarot, for God’s sake.” A small smile touched his lips. “That was good work.” Then he was all business again as he turned that ice-blue gaze on Kemble. “Together, you can do this.”

  Kemble chewed his lip. He could almost feel the disappointment creeping up from behind, waiting to surprise his father. Failure wouldn’t be a surprise to Kemble, of course.

  “Please.”

  Kemble sucked in a little breath. He wouldn’t call it a gasp. Not exactly. When had his father ever asked him to do something? He’d used the word “please” before. But there was a way to use it that was really a command, not a request. This was almost as if his father needed him. He couldn’t refuse that, even if Senior was doomed to disappointment. “I’ll give it a shot.”

  It was only a matter of life and death to the family, if what Senior said was true. And Senior didn’t feel up to tackling it himself? What chance did Kemble have?

  *****

  A misshapen shadow fell across Kee’s canvas. Her brush, laden with the deep teal she was using for the early November shadows under the pergola, paused in midair. The somber tone of her painting matched her mood today. She might be moving out of her Monet period. The question was, whose style was she moving into? She sighed.

  “Those are going to fall off one of these days,” she said to the shadow without turning.

  “You always say that,” the familiar deep voice complained. “They never do.”

  She gave a reluctant smile and swiveled. In spite of his protest, Devin put his surfboard down on the lawn and hiked up the baggy, wet board shorts from hips to waist, retying the cord. The chill November wind had dried his body on the hike up from the beach, but his longish blond hair was still wet and dark. She refused to ask if he was cold. He always called the weather “brisk,” even if she was freezing. Today she’d bundled up in a turtleneck under the men’s work shirt she used as a painter’s smock, while Devin was half-naked. Salt rime left a wavy line over his tanned chest and shoulders. He had to be strong to surf the big waves and he’d worked hard at it. His muscles were sleek. Like a seal, he seemed to have been born for the water.

  Kee turned herself forcibly back to her painting. Somehow the bougainvillea looked like the last bright defiance of the coming winter. She hadn’t intended to make it seem so poignant.

  “You just want to give those surfer girls a thrill,” she said over her shoulder.

  He snorted and plopped down on the grass. “Like I care.”

  “Not for any of them?” she asked, suddenly serious.

  “No.”

  Her brother, with whom she’d shared everything since they were nine, had seemed, well, closed off lately. She’d thought maybe he’d finally found a girlfriend. “You’ve got to start dating.” It was inevitable. She’d been dreading it, but he had to move on. He wasn’t a boy anymore.

  Everyone’s life would move on, except hers. She was like that mosquito stuck in amber for a zillion years from Jurassic Park. Frozen, still.

  “Back at you.” Devin plopped down on the grass next to her, drew his knees up to his chest, and looked up. People said you couldn’t really tell what brown-eyed people were thinking. She’d never understood that. Maybe it was only that they had lived practically like twins, but Devin’s eyes usually told her exactly what he was thinking. Not right now, though.

  She cleared her throat but nothing came out.

  Devin glanced to her canvas. “That’s good.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Different then. What’s wrong, Kee?”

  She waved her brush around in the air. “Oh, you mean besides the fact that I’m stuck here at the Breakers when I wanted to be studying in Paris? Or the fact that some horrible people want to kill our famil
y for what we are? Or that Father’s overprotectiveness is ruining our chance of having any kind of life? We’re on lockdown, waiting for an attack that hasn’t come in more than four years. That’s not living.”

  “Yeah.” A tiny curve appeared at one side of his lips. “Besides that.”

  Could she hide from her best friend? Her brother? Technically, some cousin, but they’d all considered him family ever since the Parents took him in after his family died. What was the use of hiding? Maybe she’d quit wondering every morning whether it was safe to go to her volunteer gig at the museum, even with her “escort” in tow, but that was just because they’d all gotten used to being prisoners of war. The whole thing could come to an end at any moment. She might as well tell him. Live for today and all.

  She looked back at her painting, feeling his presence behind her. The clouds needed to be darker to balance out the strong dark verticals of the pergola posts. A swirl of ominous threat, just like their lives. She stabbed her brush into black and mixed a charcoal, then curved a swipe that feathered into the lighter gray of the clouds. That was better. She always seemed to paint more cohesively with Devin around. He grounded her.

  “Earth calling Kee Tremaine,” Devin called, as though from a distance. “There’s a question hanging. It’s not polite to ignore people.”

  Case in point: grounding. Well, she could start with the obvious answer. “Autumn, I guess. Time passing.” But that was only part of the reason she was restive.

  “You’re only twenty-two, Kee,” he said softly.

  “Almost twenty-three. Old enough.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I keep waiting for lightning to strike. That’s how Father said it happened for him with Mother.” She turned to stare at Devin. “And Tris was obsessed with Maggie from day one. Drew saw Michael on TV, for goodness’ sake, and that was it for her.” She sighed. “But lightning never strikes me. I never even meet people now that I’ve graduated, except at the museum.”