by Sonia Parin
Lexie frowned and slid her gaze to one side and then the other. Catherine had sounded different. Almost as if she’d been sitting right next to her.
“Oh, everything’s changed now that you’ve spoken the words,” Mirabelle said. “And about time too. I was getting tired of sounding like italics.”
Lexie sensed her smiling.
“Don’t worry, silly.” Catherine laughed. “No one else can hear us. We might sound as conversational as the next person, but we’re still in different time zones.”
“I’d hate to be the party pooper,” Mirabelle said, “But we need to tackle some business. It’s rather urgent and we’ve wasted enough time waiting for you to come to your senses. Not that I’m begrudging you your right to be cranky with us. It’ll work itself out of your system.”
Biting back a retort Lexie lifted her glass and signaled for another one.
Mirabelle cleared her throat. “You may continue indulging. After all, it is still your birthday.”
“I might never stop,” Lexie said under her breath.
“Yes, you will. We can’t have a slush as head of the American consortium. Everyone will be looking up to you… in due course. You have years of lapsed practice to brush up on. Your skills need to be honed. I’ll never understand why your mother approved your lengthy sabbatical from the coven.”
Her mother, who’d been ever so supportive, had suddenly made herself scarce. Lexie had tried appealing to her nurturing nature. She’d begged to be heard. But a deal was a deal. Ten years to do as she pleased, to live as a normal person, all her powers by birthright as well as those she’d been gifted throughout the years and inherited had undergone a binding spell… of her own making. A spell she’d forgotten until a few minutes ago when…
She’d spoken the words.
Or rather, she’d had the words stuffed into her.
And now, when it was too late, she remembered designing the spell in such a way she’d never remember it. Sure, it had been underhanded, but needs must. At the time, she hadn’t been able to think of any other way out of a life she didn’t want.
They must have known all along what she’d done, so she couldn’t throw it in their faces and accuse them of underhandedness.
At age fifteen she’d only had one thought in mind. To be like everyone else. She’d wanted to create fond memories of her high school years. To attend a regular school and not the Mackenzie version of Hogwarts. Being aware of every possible scenario that could crop up at any given moment when someone with her ‘gifts’ tried to blend in, the council had given her a choice. She could have her temporary reprieve from all responsibilities but only for ten years and she’d have to spend that time “gift” free. No magic for her.
Everyone had warned her she wouldn’t last a month, but she had. She’d lugged her schoolbooks around. She’d caught a bus. She’d scraped her knees trying to learn to ride a bicycle—
The tips of her fingers tingled. Lexie brushed her hands along her thighs. She could feel the energy awakening. Soon, it would surge through her.
One with the elements.
Jonathan placed a glass of champagne in front of her but he didn’t move away. His eyes danced around her face. “Mind telling me what’s going on?” He narrowed his eyes. “On second thought, maybe the less I know the better.”
“What did you just see?”
He gave a slow shake of his head.
“Would you like us to compel him to tell you?” Mirabelle asked.
“No!”
Jonathan raked his fingers through his thick chocolate brown locks. “Lexie…” He cleared his throat. “The light… around you. You’re glowing… brighter.”
“The awakening,” Catherine said sounding almost awestruck. “Do you think she’ll go on a rampage and paint the town red? Literally? I’ve heard stories about dormant gifts running amuck.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s been so resistant and resentful, it would be a miracle if she ever clicks her fingers again.”
Right on cue a flow of warmth surged up to Lexie’s fingertips.
Catherine hummed softly. “She’ll cave in, eventually. She has to. Otherwise, the power within her will consume her.”
“What did you say?” Lexie swung to her left, toward Catherine’s voice.
“You need to get in the flow of things. At the moment, you’re recharging, absorbing all this energy in. Not because you want to, but because you’ve been starved for so long and it’s your natural state of being. But you can’t store it all. It has to return to nature and you do that by using it. We know you relinquished your ‘gifts’ at a significant time in your development, but you learned enough. Now you can just pick up where you left off. Don’t worry. It’ll all come back to you.”
Lexie slanted her gaze toward Jonathan to see if he’d heard any of that. His unblinking gaze told her he had.
“Right. Back to business,” Mirabelle said. “I’m afraid we have no time to dawdle. In two days’ time you need to be in House St James.”
“Where?”
“It’s in England. North County. According to our sources, trouble is brewing up at the St James Manor and we need you to nip it in the bud before it causes any havoc.”
Lexie tipped the glass back and drank deeply. “You actually think all that made sense to me? You’re nuts, the both of you. And… and why me? You’re already there.”
“It’s called conflict of interest,” Mirabelle explained, “I’m acquainted with the family and cannot interfere with their lives.”
Lexie trawled around for an excuse. “I don’t have a passport.”
Catherine snickered. “You don’t need one, silly.”
Lexie shifted in her stool. This could be over even before it began. “I’ve never flown.” An odd way of describing traveling at the blink of an eye.
“That’s right,” Mirabelle said, “You threw away… renounced your gifts as a hatchling. Never mind. It’s simply a matter of holding the image of where you want to be in your mind and… voila, you’re there. Go ahead, you can try it now.”
I will do no such thing, she thought.
Lexie pressed the glass against her lips and chortled. Shifting from one place to another… in the blink of an eye. Yeah, right. She’d never given it much thought… back in the day, but now that they expected her to do it…
She was five eight and weighed…
A normal weight, she thought not wanting to fall back into her calorie counting habits. Shifting her puppy fat out of her body had been an ordeal… now they expected her to shift herself from one place to another?
She chuckled under her breath.
Then in the next moment, everything went dark. And silent.
She became aware of a light sensation. She was hovering. In an instant it all clicked.
She’d done it.
She’d done it?
Lexie scrambled to remember what came next but before any thought could take shape in her mind, she fell with a hard thump. Along the way, her arms flailed and she tried to grab hold of something, anything.
“Lexie?”
The voice sounded distant.
“Where did she go?”
Lexie rubbed her bottom. She sat in complete darkness. Stretching her legs out, she hit something hard. She tapped it with the tip of her boot. Another hard tap nudged the obstruction. Her closet door. She’d transported herself back home.
“Here she is. What are you doing in your closet?”
That’s what she’d like to know.
“Lexie. It’s time. Come out of the closet. You don’t have a choice now.”
Yes, she did. There had to be a door number two she could pick. An out clause. An alternative to all this.
A deal’s a deal, Alexandra Elizabeth Mackenzie.
Your ten years are up.
Time to resume your true calling.
Sighing, she crouched forward and crawled out.
Catherine harrumphed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d
say you were trying to ditch us.”
“It was worth a try.”
“You forgot this.”
Her birthday gift sat on her bed.
“A nice gesture, but I doubt I’ll ever have the opportunity to wear it. In case you haven’t noticed, I like denim.”
“She’s still in denial,” Catherine mused.
“Yes, Yes. But we’re losing daylight here,” Mirabelle snapped. “As I was saying, you need to be—”
Lexie lifted a halting hand and rose to her feet. She patted herself and checked to see she hadn’t left anything behind in the ether. Her first thought had been to get as far away from them as she could and find somewhere quiet where she could process all this. Why she’d ended up in her closet she had no idea.
Denial.
All right. She couldn’t deny being in denial…
Mirabelle pushed out a long-suffering sigh. “Stop patting yourself. You’re all there.”
Again, she held up a halting hand. She strode over to her desk, drew in a deep breath, and opened the top drawer.
Inside it sat her family heirloom box, inlaid with semi-precious stones, it twinkled in the daylight. It hadn’t done that the day before when she’d peered inside the drawer. It contained a parchment stating her name and lineage. At any given moment, she could look at it and see if there had been any additions to the family tree. She hadn’t looked at it in a long time. Ten years to be precise.
She flipped the lid open and withdrew the scroll.
Her name glowed in a kaleidoscope of colors and then settled back to black, swirling lines expanding around it as other names appeared.
Her uncle Horace had married again. And he wasn’t the only one… Her cousin Annabelle had married too? And she had three children…
How much had she missed?
And…
It really was too late.
She was a fully-fledged witch… in training.
“Oh, it’s just dawned on her,” Catherine said. “And we’re all in training. Learning never stops. In fact, just the other day I picked up a new skill.”
Lexie swung round as if to face Catherine and Mirabelle when in reality, they could be anywhere. Giving them a brisk smile, she said, “We need to lay down some ground rules.”
The silence suggested they were consulting with each other.
“I suppose that’s only fair,” Mirabelle said, “We’ll listen to what you have to say.”
“First, no interfering with my private life.” She didn’t really have one but she lived in hope. “Second. I’m not moving. I like living here.” She tapped her foot, impatience gnawing at her insides. Her nose twitched. “What’s that smell?”
“It’s a fragrance,” Catherine chirped. “Smell implies something nasty.”
She turned slowly and saw a bouquet of fragrant lilies sitting on her desk.
“Something to brighten the place up. I’ll get you a vase.”
In the blink of an eye, a vase materialized.
There had to be a catch. They wouldn’t be so quick to agree to something they disapproved of.
“Any chance of knocking down a few walls to enlarge this room?” Mirabelle asked.
Lexie growled under her breath. “Well?”
“Agreed. You may remain living here but on the condition that you don’t shut us out again.”
She gave a stiff nod. “Also, you can’t interrupt my daily work schedule.”
“You don’t have a job. At least, not a proper one.”
How did they know that? “I work at the pub part time… and… I’m in the process of getting a proper job.” So far, no one had been willing to hire someone with qualifications in history and art. She’d tried teaching, but for some reason, she had always ended up getting fired or simply being passed over for someone else.
“It was always a struggle between your true calling and your ego,” Mirabelle offered.
“Stop reading my thoughts.” She did some more serious foot tapping. “Well?”
She heard them whispering among themselves.
“We must take priority,” Catherine said.
Lexie frowned. “What does that mean?”
“There is a high demand for our presence. It must come first. Whenever we’re called, we must be there,” Mirabelle explained.
“What about your inheritance?” Catherine asked.
“What inheritance?”
She heard more whispering.
“We’re not sure what’s happened here but we think the moment you relinquished your powers, you gave up everything else. But that’s all right because now you’re back. You can claim what’s rightfully yours.”
She’d turned her back on money? Had she been that stupid? More like desperate and naive. As a fifteen-year-old she hadn’t had to worry about overheads. Rent. Food. Utilities… She’d only wanted to be free and have fun and catch Bobby Ray’s attention.
“Okay, now we’re talking.” She paced around the room. “Is this real money we’re talking about?”
“As real as it gets. It’s from your great aunt Tillie.”
“Who is she again?” Clearly, she’d done a thorough job of forgetting.
“She ran a successful cosmetic empire with a rejuvenating moisturizer as her bestseller.”
“At the risk of sounding crass, how much are we talking about?”
“Only what you need. That’s the deal. She didn’t want to spoil you.”
Mirabelle cleared her throat. “Now can we get on with it? If we delay this any longer, the consequences could be severe.”
Lexie glanced at the costume on her bed. “Please tell me I don’t have to wear that.”
“But you look so pretty in it,” Catherine said. “Turn around.”
She remembered Catherine saying it was her official Mackenzie Coven costume. Whenever she came in the presence of another coven member, they would see her wearing it.
“It’s just the right length. I love the way the skirt falls just above the knees teasing them when you move. You can show off your legs.”
Lexie went into a frenzy of swatting the air around her. “Stop gawking at me.”
“Children, please.” Mirabelle clapped her hands. “We only have a couple of days to bring Lexie up to a reasonable standard of functionality. As it is, we don’t know where she’ll land when she transfers over to House St James.”
Lexie tuned out the excited chatter and slumped down on her bed.
This was it.
No turning back now. No undoing any of it.
The Mackenzie Coven had reclaimed her and now she could never turn her back on them.
Unless…
There had to be a way. There had to be…
Chapter Three
“Catherine, please stop pacing.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Please, Catherine. I’m trying to focus. There’s something in the air. A disturbance. Definitely a threat. And it’s all coming from House St. James.”
“That makes it worse. Can we really trust her? What if she makes a run for it?”
“It’s a risk we have to take. Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if she does evaporate into thin air. Her loyalty hasn’t been tested yet.”
Lexie set her mug of coffee down. “You know I can hear you.”
“How much longer are you going to be? That is the third cup of coffee you’ve had.”
“Well, excuse me your Royal High Chair of the British Isles and all Circumferential Domains Pertaining to the Mackenzie Coven. Some of us need our daily fuel.”
“You’ve been pigging out on a full breakfast for the past hour.”
“Would you prefer I shovel my food in without chewing it? This might well be my last supper. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I click my heels.”
“We’ve been through this a dozen times, if not more. You simply think of where you want to be. No clicking of heels required.”
“I think she was being facetious,” Catherine said.
>
“In that case, she must understand this is a serious matter we’re dealing with here.”
“We?” Lexie snorted. “What’s with the royal we. As far as I understand, it’ll be me sticking my neck out to do who knows what.”
“We’ll be there with you all the time,” Catherine offered.
“Right, and that’s supposed to assure me because…” Lexie slumped back on her chair and huffed out a breath. They had been relentless. So far, she’d undergone a full twenty-four hours of constant drilling. They’d focused on getting her to shift from one place to another. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d landed in the basement of her apartment block and then there had been her impromptu appearance at her neighbor’s afternoon tea party. Mrs. Bridgerton’s eyes had glazed over. Lexie had smiled and pretended she’d been sitting there all along. “Will I be able to cash in on my frequent flyer points?”
“Hush,” Mirabelle said. “I feel a massive obstruction.”
“Try porridge,” Catherine suggested. “That’ll loosen you up.”
“I was referring to House St James. I can’t get through to them.”
Lexie smiled. “Maybe they grew tired of you poking into their business and blocked you out.”
“Highly unlikely since they’re the ones who contacted me in the first place. You must hurry.”
Lexie felt a poke on her back. “Hey. No rushing me, it’s bad for my digestion.”
“She’s so skinny. Where does it all go?” Catherine wondered.
Mirabelle huffed. “Never mind all that nonsense.”
“All right. I’m done. I just need to wash up.”
“I’d offer to help with the drying, but… I’m not in my corporeal form,” Catherine said.
“Thanks, Catherine. It’s the thought that counts.”
“Did you spend time looking at the photo of the house as I asked you to do?” Mirabelle asked.
Lexie whipped around. “Can you stop moving around? You’ll give me whiplash. And… wear bells so I know where you are.”
“We’ll do no such thing. Now focus. It’s imperative you fix on a specific image so you don’t end up in a closet or somewhere behind a locked door or, heaven forbid, in someone’s bedchamber.”
Mirabelle’s handwringing tone made her smile. It had been getting worse in the last few minutes. “I figured the front door would be a safe bet.”
