That Touch of Magic

by Lucy March

  He stared at me. “You really believe that?”

  I lowered my head, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah.”

  He went silent for a while, and then he said, “For ten years I’ve tried to convince myself it was my imagination, this thing between you and me, but it isn’t, is it?”

  I gathered my stuff in my arms and climbed up the cement stoop to my door. All I had to do was open it and go inside and hide until he went away. But I couldn’t pull the door open. I couldn’t shut him out. I just stood there, frozen, listening as he moved closer.

  “Tell me it’s my imagination, Stacy. Tell me there’s nothing special between us, and I’ll go away. I’ll get a better therapist, check myself into some kind of … I don’t know … rehab for delusional people.”

  I rested my forehead against the door frame, willing myself to go inside. I couldn’t move.

  “Stacy,” he said, his voice low. “Is it my imagination?”

  Before I realized what I was saying, I’d already said it.

  “No. It’s not your imagination.”

  Even without looking at him, I could feel the tension releasing from him, as though I’d just done him a favor. I hadn’t. Lying to him would have been the kindness, but long ago, we’d promised each other we would never lie to each other.

  And at least one of us was a man of her word.

  I managed to turn myself around and look at him, and my love for him was still so powerful it almost knocked me over. I wanted to throw my arms around him, kiss him until neither of us could see straight. Bring him to my bed and keep him there forever.

  But that was weakness, and if loving Leo had made me anything, it wasn’t weak.

  “It’s not your imagination,” I said, my voice gaining strength. “If knowing that matters to you, if it makes a difference, then great. Have it. I still love you, and I always will.”

  His eyes reddened, and my heart cracked at the sight of his pain. I could always handle my own pain, but his just wrecked me. That night when he’d told me about the girl he’d screwed in his dorm room on the last night of finals, just eight weeks after his father’s death, half of my misery was in seeing how much he’d been hurting. And then he’d walked away, and I’d wanted to go after him, but I didn’t because I thought it would be easier on both of us to give it some time, to tell him I forgave him when he came back.

  Except he never came back.

  I looked at him now, and he was beautiful and I wanted him for my own again so bad, I felt like I was cracking down the middle. But I couldn’t have him. I didn’t work that way anymore. The part of me that knew how to be with someone was broken, and there was no point in pretending otherwise. No way was I taking him inside only to have no place for him to stay.

  “Loving you isn’t something I did for a while, Leo. It’s something I am. I can’t change it any more than I can change the color of my eyes.”

  His jaw tensed and his lower lip quivered, and I knew what was coming. In two minutes, we’d both be blubbering helplessly like a couple of stupid kids, and this was all going to get to be too much very soon if I didn’t put a stop to it now.

  “I love you.” I felt the relief in the words for just a moment as I said them; then I pulled myself together and pushed through the rest of it. “But that matters so much less than you’d think.”

  His face froze, and it took a moment, but he nodded.

  I swallowed, willing the tears back.

  “Go back. Go to the wedding. Get on your plane. Then don’t ever darken my fucking door again.”

  I stood there on my stoop and watched while he slowly walked to Nick’s truck. A moment later, he drove away, leaving a trail of dust kicked up in the air behind him. I don’t know how long I remained there, staring, but it was long enough for the dust to settle, and for a silver Honda with Canadian plates to pull in and park next to my Bug. A moment later, a long, lean Desmond Lamb stepped out, cutting a fine figure in a classy black suit.

  I barely noticed. I was still staring at the dust Leo had left behind.

  “Well, Stacy, I must say, I didn’t have you pegged as the rustic sort…” That must have been when he caught the look on my face, because he stopped talking.

  “Stacy? Are you all right?”

  The sight of Desmond went hazy through my tears. Without a word, he relieved me of my dress and shoes and matching clutch, and ushered me inside. He sat me at my kitchenette and dispensed the Anwei Xing potion into a glass of Diet Coke.

  I drank it down without a word and went to take my shower.

  * * *

  “I don’t know what you did to Mom,” Nick said as we danced to Harry Connick Jr. on the parquet floor the wedding planner had set up in the middle of the town square, “but thank you.”

  “Me?” I smiled up at him and batted my eyelashes. “I didn’t do a thing.”

  “Yeah, right. Was it that magic stuff? The stuff you and Liv have?” I’d explained how the magic worked to Nick a few times, but he never really understood. Kind of the way I never understood when he explained to me how a carburetor worked.

  “Liv has magic,” I said. “I have potions.”

  “It’s all the same to me,” he said. “Did you hocus-pocus her or what? She told Peach she was beautiful twice, and didn’t follow it up with for a whore or anything.”

  “I didn’t do anything magic to her,” I said. “I just explained things in a way she could understand.”

  “Good for you.” He tried to twirl me around, and ended up stepping on my toe. My big, bald brother was good at his landscaping business, and he was good at making Peach happy, but he couldn’t dance worth a crap.

  “Sorry,” he said, and I rubbed the top of his head.

  “Twinkle lights were a bad idea,” I said. “They’re all reflecting off the top of your shiny pate.”

  “Yeah, cut it out,” he said, and pushed my hand away. Next to us, Desmond twirled Peach around with perfect grace and she hollered out, “Is it too late for returns? I want this one instead!” and a bunch of nearby guests laughed.

  Nick shrugged. “It was only ever a matter of time before she got wise and left me for someone better looking.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said. “You’re a catch and you know it.”

  Nick shrugged and smiled. “I know.” His eyes clouded a bit, and he said, “Hey, you okay?”

  I blinked in surprise. Nick had once accidentally knocked me off the monkey bars. I’d landed hard and he’d carried me, bleeding from the head, to the school nurse’s office. Not once in that entire fifteen minutes had he asked me if I was okay.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

  He bopped his head back and forth a little, the way guys do when they don’t know how to express an emotion-based thought. “Nothing. It’s just … Leo. I thought by now you’d have stabbed him with a spork or scratched his eyes out or something.”

  I rolled my eyes. “One time. One time you stab someone with a spork, and you never hear the end of it.”

  “Hey,” he said, giving me that big-brother look. “I’m not kidding. I know you let it all go for me, and thanks, but now I want to know. You okay?”

  I smiled, and came upon the edge of the strange emotional chasm I’d been feeling since Desmond had shown up that afternoon. Turns out, Des was a crackerjack conjurer, and the Anwei Xing had draped a thick canvas over everything I felt connected with Leo. Our eyes had met a few times during the ceremony and reception and I had felt … nothing. It was weird; certainly not unwelcome, but … weird. Never in my life had I felt disconnected from Leo North, even in the worst moments. It was the connection that hurt, and I was glad to be rid of that pain for a night, but at the same time, it felt wrong, like a vital piece of me had gone missing.

  Well, better missing than hurting. But at the moment, my big brother was staring down at me, wanting an answer.

  “That was a long time ago,” I said. “Old news.”

  Nick nodded, and didn’t seem to quite believe me,
but he accepted it. He tried to twirl me again and met with more success this time, but it still wasn’t great. The music ended and I hugged him.

  “Congratulations, butt munch.”

  “Thanks, sissy girl.”

  “Hey!” I pulled back and punched him playfully on his shoulder, but before we could get into a real brawl, Desmond walked Peach over, her arms around his neck.

  “I love this man!” she said, and leaned back, hands still clasped around Desmond, to offer a kiss to Nick. Nick took her offer while Desmond dipped her a bit for easier access. I laughed, and Desmond met my eye and winked. Then Nick, five inches shorter than Desmond but a good bit heavier, said, “Get your mitts off my woman, limey.”

  “Alas, fair lady,” Desmond said, smiling at Peach, “honor compels me to release you. Honor and fear of your new husband.”

  Peach shot her arms up in the air and screeched, “My husband!” and then threw herself around Nick and kissed him in a way that I didn’t need to see. I tucked my hand in the crook of Desmond’s arm and let him lead me back to a table at the far edge of the party, where we could sit and watch the revelry from a distance. He handed me a full champagne flute, and we clinked.

  “You seem to be feeling better,” he said.

  “I am.” I sighed. “I’m sorry about all that this morning. It was just—”

  He held up one hand. “No explanation required. I’m glad I could help.”

  I smiled at him. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

  He raised a brow. “Are we friends?”

  “We’re friends,” I said. “Yeah.”

  “Excellent.” He sipped his champagne. “I’d like that very much.”

  I felt a whoosh of cold air on the other side of me, and turned to see that the Widow had seated herself in the chair next to mine.

  “I have had five separate people come up to me tonight to tell me how young I look!” She grinned and held up one hand, all fingers splayed. “Five.”

  “Great.” I held up my champagne flute and motioned toward Desmond. “Lillith, this is my date, Desmond. He’s a … colleague. Desmond, the Widow Lillith Easter. My mother.”

  The Widow kept her eyes on the dance floor, allowing an absent “Uh-huh” as Desmond held out a hand to shake, which went ignored. I rolled my eyes and he smiled, bringing his hand back gently to rest on my knee. I allowed it. I had ditched the crinoline underskirts after the ceremony, allowing the pink polka-dotted satin to hang naturally, and the warmth of his hand was nice through the sheer fabric. I wasn’t sure if there was anything between me and Desmond or not. I hadn’t really thought of him that way before, he was just the guy I got my supplies from, but things were different now. Maybe. I wasn’t feeling anything at all in the moment, but the chasm was still there, and if I did have any romantic feelings, I wouldn’t have felt them anyway. For tonight, I was letting that go, enjoying the peace of the empty space inside.

  “See over there?” the Widow said, pointing to the dance floor. “That’s Vicki Federman. Her husband Dan just told me I was absolutely glowing, and I swear, she’s going to kill him!”

  “Ah, homewrecking,” I said. “Such a fun pastime.”

  The Widow turned her eyes on me and huffed. “Sorry, dear. Have I been treading on your territory?”

  “Ah, ah, ah.” I patted my polka-dotted clutch, a warning tone in my voice.

  The Widow’s eyes widened. “You said I had to be nice to Peach.”

  “I said everyone. That includes me.”

  “Why should I be nice to you?”

  “I would say because I’m your daughter, but I know that wouldn’t get me anywhere, so let’s go with because I said so.”

  “Well,” Desmond said, standing up. “I would quite like another turn around the dance floor.” He stepped past me and offered his elbow to the Widow. “Would you do me the honor, Mrs. Easter?”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you … English?” She looked at me as though to say, How did you get a classy date?

  He smiled at me briefly, then turned his attention back to the Widow. “I am indeed, and it’s my goal as the sole representative of fair Britain to dance with all the beautiful women at this affair today, yet you have somehow evaded me. Might I have the pleasure of a place on your dance card?”

  Without so much as a glance at me to see if it was okay, she jumped up and tucked her hand in his arm. Desmond gave me a quick wink before escorting my mother out to the dance floor.

  He was a good egg, that Desmond. Way too good for me, probably, but I’d cross that bridge later.

  My clutch buzzed on the table behind me, and I reached in to see who was calling.

  DEIDRE TROUDT.

  I hit the top button twice, sending the call directly to voice mail. She’d left three messages just that afternoon, and I hadn’t had the time or energy to call her back. She probably wanted more potions; that happened a lot with first-time customers. One potion works, and suddenly they want potions for everything. That was why I had a new VW Bug.

  Well, whatever she wanted, it could wait.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  I didn’t need to look up to know the voice; as soon as I heard it, an empty calm fell over me like velvet, and I knew it was Leo. I glanced at my watch; Desmond had dosed me at eleven that morning, and it was a little past ten now. I was still feeling the peaceful, cozy nothing I’d felt when Leo and I had made eye contact at other times during the day, and it was probably safe enough, for a little while longer at least.

  I shrugged and motioned to the chair. “It’s a free country.”

  “My plane leaves in a few hours,” he said, taking the seat.

  I took a breath, then shifted in my seat to look at him. I was tense for a moment, but then there was nothing.

  It was glorious.

  I smiled. “Have a nice flight.”

  There was a hint of confusion in his expression, but he just said, “Thank you.”

  We sat in awkward silence for a moment, and I just kept looking at him, feeling nothing. It was wonderful. Amazing. Thoughts raced through my head, all of them unencumbered by emotion.

  Desmond is a really good conjurer.

  I should marry him.

  It’ll be okay, as long as I never love him.

  Which I won’t, because I love Leo, and I will never love anyone else.

  “Are you okay?” Leo asked, breaking into my thoughts.

  “Me?” I lifted my champagne flute and took a drink. “Never been better. Why?”

  “You look a little strange.” He seemed to realize what he just said, and backtracked. “I mean, you look great, but … something’s different.”

  I stared at him for a moment, wondering how he could tell. How could he see it, with just a glance? Liv hadn’t said a word, and she’d spent much of the day standing next to me, watching Peach get married. Plus, she knew me better than anyone.

  Well, better than anyone other than Leo. Who was getting on a plane and leaving me forever, again, in just moments.

  And I didn’t feel a thing.

  Definitely going to have to marry Desmond, I thought.

  “Stacy?” He shifted a bit closer. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.” For a moment, I felt a twinge of something unpleasant, and wondered if I’d gotten too cocky, tested the power of the Anwei Xing too much. I forced myself to look at him, felt the twinge again, and said, “Don’t let me keep you from socializing with everyone. You’ve got a flight to catch.”

  “Okay.” He stood up, took a few steps away, then turned back and motioned toward the dance floor. “I just wanted to say … he seems like a good guy.”

  I blinked for a moment, not understanding, and then I looked in the direction Leo had indicated and saw Desmond twirling my mother around the dance floor, heard her laughing even above the music.

  “Oh, what? Desmond?” I waved a hand in the air. “We’re not—” And then I thought, Why the hell am I protecting Leo? and let my h
and fall again. “Thanks. He’s fabulous in the sack.”

  Leo smiled. A genuine smile. “Glad to hear it.”

  I met his eyes. “Really?”

  “No. And yes.” He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I didn’t realize you were with someone when I came by your place earlier. Nick said you weren’t…” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I want you to be happy. I hope you know that.”

  “I’m happy,” I lied, and damn him, he knew it. I could see it in his face, that slight raise of the eyebrows that said, Oh yeah? How did he always know?

  This time it was a jolt, not a twinge, a debilitating lightning bolt of everything I’d ever felt for Leo. Love, anger, hurt, sexual desire. All at once, in one overwhelming blast. Christ. I glanced at my watch again. He needed to leave, now. I stood up.

  “I gotta go. Have a safe flight home, Leo—augh!” Saying his name cut through me, and I hunched over a bit and winced. In a moment, Leo was at my side, holding me up, sending more pain, love, and heat shooting through my body at his touch. I pushed away from him, grabbed my clutch, and headed away.

  “Stacy!” I could hear his footsteps thudding softly on the grass behind me as I moved into the dark, away from the twinkly party lights and into the empty playground area of the town square.

  “Go home, Leo.”

  “What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you … are you smoking?”

  That threw me, and I stopped and turned to look at him. He stopped, too, a few feet away, but instead of staring at my face, he was staring at my clutch.

  “What the hell is going on here?” he asked, eyes wide.

  “What?”

  I glanced down, and that’s when I saw it. It looked like ropes of glowing red smoke, dancing around my hand, and I caught a whiff of a strange, acrid smell.

  Burning satin.

  Under my fingers, my clutch was on fire.

  Chapter 6

  “Jesus!” I threw the clutch to the ground and held up my hand; the glowing red smoke was dissipating, but it was definitely still there. This was not my imagination.

  I swallowed, my mind reeling. I’d had that power, firestarting, only once before, when Liv had transferred magic to me accidentally. Magic manifests differently in everyone, and had manifested in me as fire, and I had burned paper and melted metal without feeling so much as a touch of warmth on my palms. Had Liv somehow…?