“I will not go away,” the familiar voice said with a harsh laugh. “I have come back and you will help to make me grow stronger and stronger.”
“I will not,” she argued.
“But you will. You want to. You miss me.”
“I have Michael now.”
“Foolish witch, I am Michael.”
She shook her head, attempting to deny his words. “No, Michael is different. He is good and kind—”
“He is me. We are one and I am the stronger.”
“No,” she said adamantly. “Michael has learned what you never did and he will choose wisely when the time comes.”
His voice held anger. “I will conquer your spell, Tempest, and you will surrender completely to me.”
“Not to you, to Michael.”
“Not Michael. Me, Marcus. Marcus. Marcus.”
“No!” Tempest shot up in bed, Michael bolting upright beside her, his arms going instantly around her.
“It’s all right. It’s all right,” he said, holding her tightly.
She pressed her head to his chest and tried to calm her rapid breathing.
Michael rocked her back and forth in his arms. “It’s only a dream. It can’t hurt you.”
She wished she believed that but she knew better. Marcus had the strength to come to her and let her know that soon he would emerge, blend with Michael and regain full power. But she believed in Michael.
But Michael was Marcus.
Once she had also believed in Marcus. She had seen a brief light shine in his soul and that had given her hope for him and given her the courage to cast her spell. Now she must have patience and do the only thing she could to help.
Love.
The strongest of all magic.
Michael sat at the kitchen table stroking Bear who sat contentedly in his lap. He kept a steady and concerned eye on Tempest who was fixing lunch. Early morning had found them not very hungry, so they skipped breakfast. It was already well past noon and if he hadn’t mentioned his hunger he doubted he would have considered eating. She had been preoccupied all morning, and he was certain it had to do with her dream.
He thought he had heard her call out for Marcus when she woke from her dream, or perhaps he had heard the name in his own dream, he just couldn’t be certain and that disturbed him. He didn’t want their relationship starting off with her still haunted by an old flame. He preferred her thoughts focused solely on him since he couldn’t think of anything but her.
Love sure could drive a person crazy, but then crazy didn’t seem so bad all of a sudden.
She chopped the celery and onions and mixed them with the tuna as if she was a mechanical robot. It was obvious her thoughts were miles away and he intended to bring her back right fast.
“Tell me about Marcus.”
Bear raised his head, hissed and spit and then settled down.
Tempest on the other hand dropped the bowl of tuna she was mixing, spilling the contents all over the countertop.
She sighed and with trembling hands began to clean up the mess with paper towels.
Michael came up behind her, having deposited an annoyed Bear on the chair. He reached out, slipping his hand over hers. “What’s wrong, Tempest?”
He was afraid to ask if she had had a change of heart. He thought she might have dreamed of her old love and decided she had made a mistake in declaring her love for him. That frightening thought tore at his gut.
Tempest turned, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. “I don’t want to lose you, Michael.”
Her remark stunned him and he wrapped strong arms around her. “You’re not going to lose me.”
“Promise me,” she said, looking up at him through misty eyes.
His kiss was possessive. “I promise. You have me forever and ever,” he whispered against her lips.
She sighed, though she didn’t sound relieved and placed her head back on his chest.
“Do you want to talk about this? And be honest with me. Does this have something to do with this Marcus character?”
She laughed lightly. “You’re perceptive.”
He admitted the truth. “No, jealous.”
She looked at him with surprise. “Really?”
“Really. The thought that you actually loved another man drives me crazy and I’m feeling crazy enough as it is. Crazy in love, to be exact.” He kissed her again to prove his point.
“I’m feeling just as crazy,” —she regained the breath his kiss had stolen— “in love.”
“Then the problem is?”
“Losing you. The thought frightens me to the depths of my soul.”
He could relate to her fears. The idea that he could lose her twisted at his gut and made him want to tremble. But life had its risk and there was nothing either of them could do about it. He had learned that at an early age. The only thing they could do? Love each other and face life together.
“I don’t plan on going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.”
She looked as if she still didn’t believe him.
He cupped her chin firmly. “I’m not Marcus. You have to believe in me. Me, Tempest.”
She asked him the strangest question. “Do you believe in you, Michael?”
He looked at her oddly for a moment and then smiled. “Yeah, I do.”
She kissed him softly. “I believe in you, Michael. Remember always that I believe in you.”
He gently returned her kiss and was concerned by the sadness he sensed she felt. He wanted her happy right now.
“Ham,” he said, nodding slowly. “I knew we should have had ham for lunch. It would have survived the fall.”
She laughed shaking her head. “Perceptive again. Are you sure you’re not a witch?”
“If I was I would clean this mess up with the snap of my fingers.” He snapped his fingers to prove his point.
They both laughed but Bear hissed and spat once again, alarming them both, but for different reasons. Michael looked his way and Tempest turned to see that the over-turned bowl of tuna was now upright, its contents intact. Michael’s magic had worked and it had upset Bear.
She blocked his view of the counter, turning and giving him a slight shove. “See to Bear. I’ll clean this up and make ham sandwiches.”
He didn’t argue, his concern for the disgruntled cat catching his full attention. He picked up Bear and soothed him with gentle strokes, and the agitated cat settled instantly.
Tempest had no choice but to toss the tuna salad in the garbage.
Michael pulled a chair out from beneath the table and settled down with Bear in his lap. “Tell me about Marcus.”
Bear hissed, slightly content with Michael’s attention. “It’s obvious Bear didn’t like him.”
Memories recalled just how true his remark was. Bear had entered her life when she was about five hundred years old. She rarely went anyplace without him. He had attended Sarina’s wedding but had refused to join her in the car for the return trip home. He hissed and spat and protested until she had no choice but to transport him home with a snap of her fingers. He had always been a temperamental feline but she loved him dearly and wouldn’t have him any other way.
The few times Marcus had come to her cottage Bear made it known that he did not like him. The two kept a safe distance from each other. Bear was confident that Tempest would not allow Marcus to harm him, allowing him to continue his usual antics. Marcus was aware of Tempest’s attachment to the cat, therefore he attempted to ignore the temperamental beast, as he had often referred to him.
“Tempest.”
She shook her head, looking to Michael and attempting to recall his question. She smiled after a brief hesitation and her shaking head turned to a confirming nod. “You’re right. The two didn’t get along.”
“You get a treat for that, pal,” he whispered to Bear.
“What was that?” she asked, having heard only a mumble.
He cleared his throat. “Ho
w did he treat you?”
She stared at him, lost in her thoughts once again wondering over the wisdom of the conversation and the sanity of it. He was Marcus and he was asking about himself. But then she did need to take responsibility for this situation since she had cast the spell.
He waved his hand at her. “Tempest, are you here with me?”
She shook her head, returning to reality. “Sorry, my thoughts keep wandering today.”
“Where do they wander?”
“To memories.”
“Good ones?” he asked.
“Aren’t the good memories the ones that are always remembered when a relationship ends?”
He recalled his childhood memories and nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
She realized then that she wanted to answer his question. “I have good memories of Marcus. He was a complex man, and demanding, and yet, “ —she paused as if searching—”He understood me and in his own way respected me”—she smiled—”even at times admired me.”
Michael didn’t care for the loving way she spoke of him. “What happened?”
“I couldn’t give him what he—” She stopped abruptly and then softly said, “Wanted. I couldn’t give him what he wanted.”
He saw the pain in her eyes and his heart ached for her and at that moment he wished that he had the bastard here in front of him so he could cause him some real physical pain. “What did he want that you couldn’t give him?”
“My soul,” she whispered.
A sudden chill ran down his spine and he stared mindlessly at her. “I don’t understand.”
“He wanted my complete surrender, everything I am, the whole of me, what gives me purpose, my very being. My soul.”
Her explanation made him shudder and he shook his head, still not understanding. “Why?”
She walked over to the table with a plate full of ham sandwiches and pickles and a bowl of potato chips. She sat them down and took a chair across the table from Michael. “Because he offered the same to me.”
“Now I’m really confused,” he said, reaching for a sandwich to place on his plate. “If he was willing to give you the same, to commit that strongly, what was the problem?”
Tempest filled her own plate. “Love.”
He stopped before taking a bite of a chip. “Love?”
Her smile was sad. “He didn’t love me. He didn’t believe in love.”
Michael dropped the chip to his plate and sat back in his chair. “What did he believe in if not love?”
“The power of two souls.”
Michael was about to shake his head again when he stopped and stared at her, stunned. “Good lord, he was a witch.”
She remained silent and watched his eyes widen.
“No—he was a warlock.”
Tempest simply nodded.
“And he sought you out because of your ancestor,” he said as if memories rushed back at him but interpreting them didn’t prove easy.
She nodded, again waiting to see how far this would take him.
He grew anxious. “Is that why you have so many books on witches and such? Did you want to understand his beliefs better? Did he come from a line of witches?” He grinned. “Did he possess magical powers?”
“He believed.”
Her simple answer stunned him and words failed him.
Tempest munched on a chip, waiting.
How did he respond? How did he even feel? The man she had loved had believed himself a warlock. He didn’t even know if he believed in witches, warlocks and things that go bump in the night. Damn, the guy could be a nut, a raving lunatic, or...
A warlock.
But in today’s day and age? He could very well practice the Craft, but a warlock with magical powers? There was no such thing. And yet Tempest said he believed. Damn. He had to go fall in love with a woman who had an ancestor that was a witch and who had once loved a man who claimed to be a warlock. Next thing you know he’d be seeing fairies.
“Do you believe, Michael?” she asked.
“I believe you were right in ending the relationship. Whatever attracted you to him? Besides his looks, since I recall you mentioning how handsome he was.”
“It wasn’t his looks that attracted me; it was his interests. We had much in common.”
“Your interest in the bizarre?” he teased.
“Are you bizarre?” she asked with a smile.”You find the history of witches interesting.”
“It does fascinate me. But tell me, do you really believe that witches possess magical powers or that at one time they did?”
“When we close our minds to possibilities we no longer believe, and belief encourages growth and sustains life. Without belief nothing can exist. Therefore, I believe in possibilities.”
He shook his head. “Remind me not to ask you a complex question.”
She laughed softly. “You’ve opened your mind, Michael, to possibilities. Do you believe Marcus possessed magical powers?”
He gave her question serious thought. “This may sound strange, but I think your ancestor outshined this guy Marcus.”
“Possibilities, Michael, possibilities,” she said and raised her water glass in a toast.
He clinked his with hers. “Possibilities and,”— he paused and smiled— “I believe in the possibility of a walk in the woods after lunch.”
She had walked in the woods with Marcus many times. Now she would walk in them with Michael. “I believe that’s possible.”
They laughed, talked and ate their ham sandwiches and Bear slept contentedly in Michael’s lap.
o0o
The woods seemed quiet to Michael. It was a beautiful pre-spring day. Winter’s chill remained in the air but the burst of sunshine added a degree of warmth reminding that spring was around the corner. Small buds peeked from tree branches. The green foliage stretched anxiously toward the sun, gaining nourishment for new sprouts. And patches of stubborn snow melted slowly away.
He held Tempest’s hand as they walked a well-worn path into the woods that surrounded a good portion of her cottage. He wore work-boots, black jeans and a black sweatshirt. He didn’t feel the need for a jacket. Actually he felt warm even though the air was brisk.
Tempest wore dark-green leggings with a matching hip-length cable-knit sweater. Black leather boots made the trail easy for her to walk and a dark-green blanket jacket sprinkled with tiny gold stars added extra warmth. Her fiery hair was free and her creamy cheeks were tinged pink by the bite of cold air.
Michael held firm to her hand, keeping it warm in his. “I love the outdoors.”
“Is that why you decided to backpack through Scotland?”
“I felt a need to see this land,” he attempted to explain. “We docked at Glasgow a few years back and due to unexpected repairs we were stuck there for a couple of weeks. I took off for a couple of days and discovered I loved the land and the people, and when the ship left dock I promised myself I’d be back to explore.”
He didn’t tell her that the need to return was so great that he had just picked up and left one day, catching rides on ships that finally brought him back to Scotland. He couldn’t understand the relentless urge that drove him, he only he knew he had to satisfy it. He had to return to Scotland. He had been away too long, far too long.
“Then you won’t mind living here, making this place your home?”
He stopped walking, bringing her to a halt beside him. He brought her hand up to meet his lips. “I love you. Tempest. Wherever you are is home for me.”
She wore a smile that teased. “You won’t get bored isolated here with me in this place?”
She caught the glint of mischief in his dark eyes and admired his slim lips as they came down on hers and kissed her senseless.
He moved off her mouth to nibble at her ear. “I can think of things that will keep us both busy.”
Her sigh was part moan as she leaned into him, and he in turn wrapped her arms behind her back so that he could feel the length
of her pressed against him.
“Those kinds of sighs are going to get you in trouble,” he warned playfully.
“Promises promises,” she teased, nipping at his neck. “The ground is wet, there’s no place for a romp.”
“Sweetheart, you just challenged me,” he said with a deep laugh and held her arms firm behind her back as he walked her backwards toward a thickly based tree.
She giggled and squirmed to free herself, though not wholeheartedly.
He nipped at her neck and mouth and all but carried her over to the tree as she continued her useless struggle. Her giggles didn’t help her any. They echoed eerily throughout the woods.
The first light sting to his face caught Michael by surprise. He thought it a bug and shook his head, attempting to shake the pesky pest away. But two more followed and he thought he caught a spark of light out of the corner of his eye. He freed one hand and swatted at the tiny shaft of light.
“Don’t!” Tempest yelled and was out of his grasp in a flash, dropping to her hands and knees.
“What’s wrong?”
“You just knocked out a fairy.”
Chapter Twenty
“I what?” Michael asked, stunned, swatting more carefully at the tiny sparkling pests that descended down around him.
“Leave him be,” Tempest commanded with a shout and a wave of her hand.
The tiny sparkling lights moved away from him and hovered over Tempest. He watched her reach down and pluck something off the wet ground and place it gently in the palm of her hand.
“Beatrice,” she said with concern.
“What the hell is going on?” Michael demanded.
Tempest shot him a lethal look and with a pointed finger ordered, “Silence!”
He and his senses froze into a silent rest.
Tempest turned her attention back to the tiny unconscious fairy. “Beatrice.” She held her hand over the plump little body, allowing her healing energy to rain down over the fairy.
The other fairies gathered around her, casting a soft glow from the sparkle of their wings. Whispers of concern sounded more like the buzzing of bees and they waited impatiently to see if the Ancient One could heal Beatrice.
Tempest continued radiating energy over the prone little body while keeping a careful eye on Michael. With Marcus regaining his strength her spell would not last long on him. She had to hurry and she had to rectify this unfortunate situation.
Magical Memories Page 20
