by Unknown
She had to. If she didn’t it might rain frogs.
She glanced over at Roland and winced. Ro was so pissed his jaw was clenched. The last time his jaw had been that tight his future Princess had just turned down his marriage proposal and was considering dating a wizard who’d turned out to be a warlock.
A warlock, for the Lady’s sake.
It had taken weeks for Ro to get over it, but at least Ari had finally accepted his proposal. She was pretty sure the entire Lodge heard the huge argument they’d had, the way Roland had shouted his love for Ari. It turned out that was what Ari had been waiting for. Apparently Ro had chosen to couch his first proposal in formal court terms rather than letting Ari know he thought she hung the moon and the stars.
She still wasn’t certain how she’d kept her childhood friend from finding said warlock and turning him into a fly. Thank the Lady Ari had realized her mistake and made up with Ro. Jo was pretty sure Roland would have lost his mind if he’d lost Ari.
“Both of you need to lay off Zach.”
Jo exchanged a glance with Ro. If it were up to him, Zach would more than likely be stripped of his powers and banished from court. But Zach had the backing of the Princess and, Goddess help her, his teacher. She’d fight for him whether he knew it or not. “Only if he’ll lay off us first.”
Ari damn near growled. “There’s something about him, something…precious. Something we should be nurturing.” The Princess frowned. “He reminds me of someone I met a long time ago.” Princess Arianna grimaced. “Of course, if that were true I don’t think Annabelle would have sent him here.”
“He’s a warlock?” That might explain the numerous “accidents” that had been happening since he arrived. Others had taken notice, and now Zach couldn’t go anywhere in court without someone harassing him. She’d tried to put a stop to the persecution, but it was like trying to stop a tsunami with a dryer sheet. One of these days he was going to find himself in way over his head, and she didn’t know if she’d be able to save him.
“He’s no more a warlock than you are.” Ari tapped her finger against her teeth. “No, he’s…” She shook her head. “Different.”
That’s one word for him. Oh yeah, Zach was different all right. No other man had gotten under her skin the way he had with just a look and a smile.
She bit back an uncharacteristic snarl. Zachary Beckett had no right to be there. She had things to do that didn’t involve a ten-year-old in a twenty-four-year-old’s body. She was a teacher, damn it, not a nursemaid.
“I need a break.” Jo rubbed her forehead. This wasn’t the first time Zach’s antics had given her a headache, and she had the feeling it wouldn’t be the last. At least she’d finally gotten that funky smell out of her classroom. It had only taken two days of perpetual casting and a whole can of Febreze to do it.
She still didn’t understand what he’d done and she prayed she never found out. Still, she had to admit she’d been just a little more sensitive to the energies flowing around her since he’d…done whatever the hell it was he did.
Ro shook his head at the M&M on the back of his chair. “I’ll clean this up. Somehow.” He clapped her on the back. “Go make sure our new boy doesn’t do something else, like try that Mickey Mouse broom trick all the newbies do.”
Ari giggled. “Think of it this way. We’d probably be the cleanest city in the world.”
Jo bit back her smile, sketched her leader a bow and strode out of the room, careful not to crunch the candies on the floor.
But when she went to get Zach he wasn’t anywhere in the Lodge.
Something’s wrong. Something bad.
She moved faster and faster, searching for him as she went from room to room, but he just wasn’t there. Checking out front she saw his car was gone. Her stomach filled with dread. “Crap. I have a really bad feeling about this.”
She ran back to the Archives. It took her almost an hour to hunt down his current address, and when she did she had to double check it. “That’s weird.” Zach wasn’t living in any of the normal communities. She was certain there were apartment complexes housing witches that were much closer to the Lodge than the one he was staying at. Roland had to know that, so why had he set Zach so far apart from the others?
She darted out to her car, waving good-bye to a still laughing Ari. She had to get to Zach, and fast. Her instincts were screaming at her in a way they never had before. If she didn’t find him soon, she was going to lose something. She had no idea what, but the thought filled her with dread.
It didn’t take her long to get to his townhouse. She looked around and frowned. Ro had put the novice witch on the opposite end of the city from the rest of the magical community. It was almost like he was isolating Zach. Whether Roland was trying to keep the others safe or Zach away from court, she didn’t know, but the situation bothered her more than it probably should. She understood why she had issues with Zach, but if he was living here then it meant Roland had issues with him before he even arrived.
She’d have to look further into that. If one of the reasons Zach was such a screw-up was animosity from his Prince she’d need to speak to Roland about it. Emotions could tangle up a witch’s magic, making it more difficult for them to cast spells. While positive emotions could give them a boost of energy just when they needed it, negative emotions could give them too much energy, or cause the spell to affect not only the intended target but the spellcaster as well. They had to learn to control their emotions or the emotions would control the magic. The results if the witch never learned control could be catastrophic.
If Zach was as powerful as Annabelle Evans thought, and he was being battered by uncontrolled self-doubt? Jo shuddered.
That might explain why it took a whole can of Febreze.
Shit. His car was missing. She ran for his front door, but she already knew that he was gone. Her gut churned at the thought that he was out there all alone.
She had to find Zach and keep him safe. Had. To.
She huffed out a frustrated breath. He might be a fuck-up, but he was her fuck-up. She couldn’t let him go into something blind, even if she didn’t know what that something might be. She had to figure out where he’d gone and fast. And the best way to do that was to get inside his house.
She bent over his door and whispered into the lock, “Little house, little house, let me in.”
Before she could recite the second line of the spell, Zach’s disembodied voice whispered back from the keyhole. “Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.”
“Aw crap.” She felt her feet lift from the ground and prayed there wouldn’t be too much damage when she landed.
Chapter Three
Jo opened her eyes to a bright white light and a hell of a headache. That son of a bitch killed me.
“She’s coming around.”
She blinked as the light moved away, only to be replaced by the concerned face of a man in a dark jacket. Behind him she could see flashing red lights.
“Can you tell us what happened, miss?” The paramedic grabbed hold of her arm, preventing her from feeling the lump on the back of her head. Traffic was blocked by the ambulance some kind soul had called.
She wondered if morphine worked on headaches this big.
“Miss?”
“Slipped and fell.” She closed her eyes and hoped they’d buy that explanation, because there was no way in hell she could tell them the truth.
“Sure you did.” The paramedic sounded resigned and she knew he didn’t believe her. “We’re going to need X-rays and an MRI, make sure there’s no serious damage.” He turned to a female paramedic. “Let’s get her loaded.”
It was only when they lifted the gurney that she realized she was strapped down. She hadn’t even realized it wasn’t the paramedic holding down her arm, it was the restraints.
“Let’s get that IV started. Ma’am, you’re going to feel a little pinch.”
“No needles!” Too late. She barely beat back an unmanly squeak
of terror as the sharp, pointy object was stabbed into her unwilling flesh.
Darkness began to cloud her vision. Oh, Zach. When I catch up with you, you are so dead.
Zach picked up a rental car and GPS system at the Philadelphia Airport and headed straight for Annabelle’s. He was exhausted; it had taken him all night to get his shit together, arrange the flight and rental car and head out. He’d spent a good portion of it sitting in the airport. For some reason he’d had no desire to remain a minute more than necessary in the townhouse the Prince had rented for him.
If he had his way he’d never go back to it. The place was cold and unwelcoming, and Zach was sick of it. He’d go back to Pittsburgh and his own home soon, but for now he wanted to talk to Annabelle and meet with his brothers.
Luckily it wasn’t far from Philly International to Annabelle’s, just a half-an-hour drive on I-95. He hoped Annabelle would let him rest once he got to her place, but he knew it was probably a futile hope. She’d want to know why he was on her doorstep, but it was the first place he could think of to go. He needed her advice, especially since she was the one who insisted he head to court in the first place.
He was just starting across the Girard Point Bridge when his attention was caught by a small island in the Schuylkill River. It was a small one, with what looked like the remnants of lots of trees. It was completely dark. At first he thought it had been in some sort of fire, since the surrounding islands looked green and inviting. Slowing down, he quickly realized that the island wasn’t burned, just…dark.
It was a bright, sunny day. So why was the island in such deep shadow? Zach shivered, but the honking of a car behind him took his attention off the island. When he checked it again in his rearview mirror, everything looked fine. The trees were green, and the island looked completely normal.
“Maybe it was a passing cloud.” He turned up the music, blasting Rob Zombie, and tried to ignore the weird feeling coursing through him. The sensation gradually left him, but the memory didn’t.
Maybe he should check it out while he was in the area. It seemed wrong somehow.
Zach shook off the thought and pulled onto Annabelle’s street. For once luck was with him and he quickly found a parking spot. He got out of the car and walked to her house, eager to see her again. Annabelle knew how to make someone feel at home even when giving them hell for messing up. He knocked on her door and hoped the older woman would be happy to see him. She’d sent him to Cleveland to be trained, and instead he’d been humiliated, dissed and pretty much dismissed.
Really, when he thought about it, it was nothing new. He was used to being the black sheep of his family. Maybe he shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it.
The door opened and Zach took a deep breath. There, before him, was the matriarch of the Evans clan. “Zach?”
The deep purple T-shirt she wore proclaimed her a fan of Shania Twain. Her salt-and-pepper hair lay around her shoulders, her dark eyes clouded with confusion. She had to be the only grandmother he’d ever met who could wear skinny jeans and make them look good.
Chris is a lucky son of a bitch. If Lana looked half as good as her grandmother at that age Chris would have every right to walk around with a permanent grin.
“Hey, Annabelle. Can I come in?” He blinked at her, giving her his best lost-puppy-dog eyes.
But Annabelle Evans was made of sterner stuff. She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at him. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you over cookies?” He grinned at her wistfully. Damn, he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten since that measly slice of airport pizza.
Annabelle shook her head and let him in. “Do I really want to know?”
He put his head down and headed straight through her row house to the kitchen. He ignored the bright colors, modern furniture and homey little touches. He practically ran down the dark hardwood floors past the traditional, camel-colored sofa. The Spanish-style TV armoire that was currently open. Annabelle was watching a show where two people were explaining why a heavyset girl should not wear slinky fabrics. He dashed into the kitchen and parked his ass at the ebony-stained banquette. He crossed his arms over the table, rested his head on his arms and waited for the inquisition.
Annabelle sauntered into the kitchen, shaking her head. “Right. I don’t want to know.”
He grinned at her and hoped it didn’t look as ghastly as it felt. “Cookies?”
She sighed. “Cookies.”
She bustled around the kitchen and soon there was a heaping plate of Oreos and a huge glass of milk in front of him. Zach dug in with gusto, dipping the chocolate treats into the milk until the cookie was just so, popping the gooey mess into his mouth as quickly as possible.
“Enjoy your snack. I’ll be right back.”
He watched Annabelle leave the room. A few moments later he heard the jangle of the curtain rods and knew she’d opened the curtains. “Everything all right?”
She entered the room and sat next to him with a weary sigh. “A witch is missing, a young one, from my coven. Her parents have asked me to look for her.”
“Damn.” Zach sat straight, all of his instincts on high alert. Even his wolf took notice, nudging him to give Annabelle any assistance she required. “Need any help?”
She eyed him thoughtfully. “Sure. I’d appreciate it.” She stood. “Come on, we can do this in my workroom.” She led him down the basement stairs and through a small door. Typical of a Philadelphia row house of its age and neighborhood, the basement had been broken down into three sections. The Italians that had once, and still, lived in the area had used those basements for the making of homemade wine. One, the front, was decorated much as the upstairs had been, with hardwood floors and bright colors. A door led to the middle section and the laundry room. The second door had a shiny padlock on it.
Annabelle muttered something over the lock and it fell open. “Here we go.” She pushed open the door, and Zach whistled. A tile floor had been set, the lighter tile mingled with darker glass tile in the shape of a pentacle. The point faced north. Over that was a huge log turned altar, its surface polished until it gleamed. Various spellcasting implements were laid out on it, along with a map of Philadelphia and a black glass pendulum. A red magic marker rested atop the photo of a young girl, no older than fifteen. Solid oak bookcases stuffed with books lined the walls. Some of those books were so ancient they looked like they would fall apart with a glance. Some were squeaky new. He thought he caught a glimpse of Raymond Buckland nestled next to The Registry. “Nice.”
Annabelle snorted. “It’s good to be the queen.”
“Don’t let Arianna hear you say that.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Don’t talk to me about Arianna. I’m still pissed that you’re here instead of there. It means someone screwed up and I’m going to have to have words with them.”
Zach blinked. “You’re allowed to yell at the Prince?”
Annabelle gave him the most evil grin he’d ever seen on her face. “You may not be, but I sure as hell can.”
“Okay.” Nothing Annabelle Evans did could surprise him. If she wanted to go toe-to-toe with the forces of darkness she’d probably walk away from it with one of those foam fingers, a trophy hat, an “All I got was this lousy T-shirt” and a grin.
“Pick up the pendulum.”
Zach stared at the pendulum swaying gently over the map. His free hand, the damaged one, rested on the photo of the girl, almost against his will. He could feel the magic building inside him. “Annabelle?”
“Hmm?”
He could hear her puttering around the workroom, gathering supplies from barely seen cubbies and drawers built into the huge log. “I know what spell to use.” The urge to speak the spell was so overwhelming his speech slurred.
“Zach, no!”
“North to South, East to West,
Guide this pendulum in its quest.
Find the witch that’s hidden from me.
As I will
so mote it be!”
Zach gasped as the pendulum went insane. It swung all over the map in seemingly random arcs, touching down here, there, everywhere.
“Holy crap, Zach.” Annabelle watched as Zach’s arm got jerked all around the map. “You’ve just found every single witch in Philadelphia.” She frowned. “Even a few I didn’t know about.”
The pendulum came to a halt right over the Girard Point Bridge. “What. The?” Zach stopped himself from cursing at Annabelle’s glare. “Sorry.”
“Put the pendulum down and back slowly away from my altar.”
Zach did as he was told. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he’d screwed up again. “I’ll go up now.”
Her eyebrows rose, but Zach didn’t stick around to hear the lecture. He knew he’d messed up. He didn’t need to hear it in stereo. He just hoped he hadn’t screwed Annabelle’s chance of finding the missing girl.
He heard the phone ring, but ignored it. He didn’t want to step on her toes any more than he already had. He heard her come up the stairs and, out of the corner of his eye, watched her pick up the phone. “Hello?” She took the phone from her ear and stared at it in silence for a moment before putting it back to her ear. “Hold on.” She walked over and dropped the handset in his lap. “Phone for you.”
He hissed in pain as it landed just right on his manhood.
He picked it up gingerly, terrified that it was, Lord help him, his mother. “Hello?”
“Why the fuck aren’t you in Cleveland?”
Well hell. This was almost as bad. “Cleveland doesn’t rock?”
“Don’t be a smartass, fucktard. You’re supposed to be ‘in training’.” He could hear the quotation marks in Gareth’s voice. The future King of Wizards had that note in his voice, the one that said he’d scented a family problem and was ready to ride out on the warpath. “So why aren’t you?”
“No reason.” Not that he could put his overprotective older brother off with that excuse for long. He quickly dunked another Oreo and shoved it in his mouth. He had the feeling this conversation was going to take a lot of cookies.
