Storm of Visions

by Christina Dodd

She gasped. “Be careful! Ribs!”

  Caleb loosened his grip. “What did he do to your ribs?”

  “Jumped on me.”

  Caleb glared at Tyler; then he turned her face to his. “I can see what he did to your throat.” With light fingers, he traced the bruises there. “And your face.” He traced a lump on her forehead, one she hadn’t been aware of. He burst out, “How could I have left you alone? Why didn’t I listen to your warning?”

  “Because you’re obstinate and think you always know best?” she suggested, then buried her face in his shoulder to hide her grin.

  “I’m an ass.”

  “Yes.” She lifted her head, and in a voice filled with her own worry, she said, “You can’t be everywhere. Even now, you’re almost twitching with the need to go back to Irving’s and save them.”

  “I told them to go to Tyler’s room and look for a cell phone. If the house goes up—”

  “It’s not your fault. You were the only one who suspected a traitor and went looking for him. Without you, we’d all be victims of a blast at Irving’s and . . . oh, Caleb.” She threw her arms around his neck, ignored the pain the sudden movement caused, and said, “God help me, but as we wait to hear, I am so glad you’re here and alive.”

  “God help us both, then.” He kissed her, a gentle touch of the lips that told her how much he had worried.

  The phone rang shrilly, breaking them apart. They both jumped for it, and Caleb punched the button for the speakerphone.

  McKenna’s voice said, “Sir, I stopped Miss Fangorn from opening Mr. Settles’s phone. Is there anything else you would like me to do?”

  “Thank you, McKenna.” Relief knocked the starch out of Jacqueline’s knees, and she slithered down onto the floor and leaned against the cabinets.

  Caleb instructed, “Get them out of the house until Irving, or someone, can take that enchantment off that phone.”

  “I’ve got the cell phone here, sir. What would you like me to do with it?”

  Jacqueline sat up straight.

  Caleb put his hand on his head. “You shouldn’t have touched it.”

  They heard a woman’s voice in the background; then Charisma came on the phone. “Last night, I was reading one of Irving’s textbooks on magic, and I think I know what this is. It’s an enchantment meant to vaporize things like garbage or potato peels. You put a containment spell around a trash can—like the spell around the Gypsy Travel Agency or Irving’s house—hit the trigger, and everything inside the can vanishes.”

  “What does that have to do with this?” Caleb asked.

  “Don’t you see?” Charisma said. “The explosion fills whatever space that contains it and does its job. This was a very clever usage of a very old technology, magically speaking.”

  “I think she’s right.” Irving’s voice joined the conversation. “There’s always a lag on the timer so a lid can be put on the can. The problem is, once a device like this is inside a containment, it can’t be taken out without setting it off. In this case, if it left my house, it would blast the whole world. So I’m sending everyone out of the house, and I’ll put it in the trash and see if I can contain the explosion.”

  McKenna’s voice spoke coldly, formally, clearly as offended by Irving’s intended sacrifice as it was possible for him to be. “I just escorted Miss Fangorn out the door. Now, sir, if you would leave—”

  “I have no intention of leaving,” Irving said, “nor will I let you sacrifice yourself in such a manner—”

  “I am your butler, sir, and these duties are my responsibility—”

  “I’m very old, and you’re still a young man, and I will not permit—”

  “I’m forty-nine, not young at all, and I’ve lived a full, rich life of service to—”

  Jacqueline heard a muffled explosion in the background.

  Irving and McKenna abruptly stopped talking.

  Martha’s voice spoke into the phone. “It’s all right, Mr. D’Angelo. I took care of the matter. And the garbage is most definitely gone.” Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked away.

  A long silence followed.

  Jacqueline grinned at Caleb.

  In an unbiased tone, Caleb said, “I guess that resolves the problem, does it not, gentlemen?”

  McKenna cleared his throat. “Indeed.”

  “That it does.” Irving’s voice changed. “And you? You caught Settles before he could do any damage?”

  Caleb looked around the kitchen, at the blood, at his mother and her dog, at Jacqueline, at Tyler, and his face kindled. He was still starkly angry, yet anxious about her and his mother.

  “No harm done,” Jacqueline rasped. “We’ll see you soon.”

  Caleb cut the connection.

  Jacqueline looked down at the palm of her hand. The blast of magic that had knocked Tyler aside had healed her wound. The stitches had been burned away. The slash was nothing more than a thin white scar.

  Yet her other palm tingled and throbbed.

  She looked—and saw another eye, a mirror image to the first, etched into the palm of her hand.

  She gasped.

  Caleb leaped to her side. “What’s wrong?”

  She showed him her hands.

  He took them in his, and stared in wonderment. “Have there been prophecies about this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “That I do know. I’m ready for the battle ahead, for I am going to be the best seer the Chosen Ones have ever had.”

  He smiled—not one of his patented restrained half smiles, but a joyous smile that transformed his face.

  Keenly aware of how lucky she was to get a second chance, and how few second chances came along, she said, “I’m sorry I said those things to you. You were right about everything. Almost everything.”

  “No.” He put his finger over her lips. “I’m the one who was wrong. No child receives a gift like yours unless she is discarded in the cruelest way, deprived of the love every child is owed. You . . . you’ve had Zusane as a mother, and God rest her soul, I saw how difficult she could be. I lost my father and brother, but I was always secure in my family’s love, and I had no right to tell you about Zusane’s past. She would have hated that, and she would have hated more that I compared your ordeal to hers. Because she wasn’t always unselfish, but she understood how very much you have accomplished in your life.”

  “Yes, but she would have liked to be told more often that I loved her.” And Jacqueline laughed.

  He cocked his head curiously.

  Soon she would tell him about her meeting with Zusane, but not now. Now she could hear sirens coming, and she knew she had only a few minutes alone with Caleb. “Caleb, you helped me so much. You protected me as you did Zusane. I know with you around, I can go into a vision and be safe. I know that with the Gypsy Travel Agency gone, we’re going to be desperate for your kind of fighting experience. Somehow, your love makes my gift stronger and more magical.” Again, she showed him her hand.

  “It’s not my love that makes you strong. It’s that special soul that shines out of you like a beacon.”

  “I love you. I want you to marry me. You asked last time. This time it’s my turn. Marry me and fight by my side.”

  He hugged her again, then quickly loosened his grip. “I have never wanted anything else.” Her big, muscular, bodyguard-man’s eyes filled with tears. “Jacqueline, I love you.”

  She was home at last, in his arms.

  Chapter 36

  On the other side of the kitchen, Tyler gasped so loudly, he sounded like he was dying. Caleb’s jaw clenched. “The big faker.”

  The sirens were coming closer, turning the corner onto Mrs. D’Angelo’s street.

  Tyler gasped again, and this time the sound rattled in his throat.

  Jacqueline flinched. “That doesn’t sound like faking to me.”

  “I didn’t hit him hard enough to kill him. I wanted to, but—” At another one of those awfu
l rattling noises, Caleb jumped to his feet. “Stay there,” he told Jacqueline.

  She paid no heed, but eased herself up onto her feet and followed.

  Tyler’s skin had a gray tinge, his fingers were swollen, and he rolled on the floor, holding his belly in apparent agony.

  “He swallowed something, a drug of some kind. It’s the only explanation for this.” Caleb grabbed his shoulders and shook him to get his attention. “What did you take? Tell me! What did you take?”

  Tyler shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing you can do about it.” His voice was broken, his words slurred.

  “He took poison? Like a cyanide capsule or something?” Jacqueline knelt beside them. “Who does he think he is? A spy for the . . .” As the truth hit her, she met Caleb’s gaze.

  “A spy for the enemy, one who won’t allow himself to be taken and questioned,” Caleb finished.

  The sirens stopped outside.

  “You Chosen . . . haven’t got . . . a chance. Inexperienced. Irving . . . that old duffer . . . to lead you.” Tyler gasped over and over. “I’ve been . . . talking to the dead man . . . and he . . . will . . . triumph.”

  Jacqueline stiffened.

  “What’s wrong?” Caleb asked. “Jacqueline?”

  She shook her head, concentrating on Tyler.

  Still compelled by that frantic need for attention, Tyler spoke through blue lips. “I’ll . . . go . . . to the master. I’ll be . . . at his side.”

  “The master?” Jacqueline drew away, appalled and disgusted. “You mean . . . the devil?”

  “He . . . will . . . honor me.” Blood oozed from the slash on Tyler’s face, but it had turned a ghastly shade of brown.

  New York’s finest hammered at the front door and burst through the back.

  “In here!” Caleb called.

  EMTs, firemen, and policemen swarmed the house.

  Caleb helped Jacqueline to her feet. “You fool,” he said to Tyler. “Your master doesn’t tolerate failure.”

  Tyler looked at him in astonishment. “Not . . . true!”

  “You will burn in hell forever,” Caleb said.

  “No!” Yet Tyler recognized the truth, and as the idea took hold in his brain, he sat up and desperately clawed his way toward them.

  Chilled, Jacqueline backed away.

  Tyler stared at some vision beyond them. His blue eyes grew wider and wider. As Jacqueline and Caleb watched, blood vessels burst, obliterating the whites. He fell back.

  He was dead before he hit the floor.

  Caleb helped Jacqueline up the steps to Irving’s front door and rang the doorbell. “We’ll get you in bed and give you some pain medication, and you can sleep for the rest of the day.”

  “I think I must be surging with endorphins, because I don’t feel too bad.” Jacqueline belied her protest by leaning against him.

  “The bruises will make themselves known tomorrow.” He cursed himself again for leaving her alone to face Tyler.

  But Jacqueline knew what he was thinking, and kissed his cheek. “The hospital is keeping your mother overnight for observation, but she’s so annoyed you know she’s going to be fine. And they were so unimpressed with my injuries, they couldn’t wait to toss me out. So stop blaming yourself. Everything came out fine. Better than fine.”

  McKenna opened the door. “Ah. Good evening, Mr. D’Angelo, Miss Vargha. Come in. Will you be staying long this time?”

  “I sense sarcasm, McKenna.” Jacqueline peered around the dark, empty entryway. “Where is everybody?”

  For one second, Caleb tensed. He had that creepy crawly feeling of being watched.

  Then—“Surprise!” The Chosen Ones filled the entry. They came from the library, the study, down the stairs, yelling, waving their hands, grinning.

  Caleb relaxed. This was a friendly assault.

  Jacqueline flung herself at her friends. “You guys!”

  Charisma and Isabelle reached her first with their arms outstretched.

  “Careful!” Caleb fended them off.

  “Caleb, it’s only a couple of broken ribs.” Jacqueline scolded him and embraced the women at the same time.

  Charisma took Jacqueline’s arms and looked at her wrists. “Where’s the protection bracelet I gave you?”

  Jacqueline fished it out of her pocket and showed her. “The clasp broke.”

  “I’ll fix it for you.” Charisma put it in her own pocket, but a frown tugged at her forehead. Obviously, she didn’t like that development.

  “So you only have a couple of broken ribs,” Aaron mocked, and hugged Jacqueline gently.

  “I’ve had broken ribs; they’re a bitch.” Samuel gave her a token embrace.

  “You’ve got to stop running into stuff with your face.” Isabelle rubbed the bump on Jacqueline’s forehead.

  The redness and swelling receded.

  “Thank you.” But when Isabelle would have continued, Jacqueline stopped her. “The ribs aren’t too bad, really.” She moved her shoulders as if testing the waters. “I think I might have somehow developed some superhero healing power.”

  “Or it’s a hangover from Isabelle’s healing,” Charisma suggested.

  “Her work as one of the Chosen Ones has benefits, and a quicker healing is one of them.” The crowd parted to allow Irving through. He put his wrinkled, bent hands around Jacqueline’s face and looked into her eyes. “God bless you, Jacqueline Vargha. You saved us all.” He looked up and caught Caleb’s gaze. “And you, Caleb D’Angelo. Without you, we would be both dead and foolish.”

  “Yeah.” Samuel offered his hand. “Thank you for alerting us in time. Charisma had just located the cell phone when McKenna came running in.”

  Caleb shook his hand, and Aaron’s, and Irving’s, then offered his to McKenna. “Thank you for running.”

  “It was more of a fast walk,” McKenna said, his dignity untouched.

  Charisma hugged Caleb. “I never wanted to be at the center of an annihilation.”

  Isabelle put out her hand. Caleb appreciated that she wasn’t as warm and fuzzy as Charisma, but he pulled her into his embrace, anyway. She had healed Jacqueline and right now, she was his favorite Chosen.

  Aleksandr scooted his way through the crowd to Jacqueline. With a grin, he presented her with a leopard-print gift bag. “We got together and decided to get you a present.”

  When she would have ripped into it, Caleb placed his hand over the package. “Wait. We can’t stand here all day. Jacqueline has barely left the hospital. She needs to sit down.”

  “Shall I prepare the library for a meeting, sir?” McKenna asked.

  “Meetings are such a drag in the library,” Charisma said. With a start, she realized she had been tactless, and corrected herself. “I mean, it’s a gorgeous room, but it’s too big and there are all those antiques and I’m always afraid I’m going to break one. . . .”

  In his coldest voice, McKenna suggested, “The study, then? The billiards room? The dining room, perhaps?”

  “She’s right. This is a gorgeous mansion, but it’s like living in a museum. I’m always tiptoeing around.” Obviously, Aleksandr didn’t give a damn about tact.

  McKenna was so annoyed, he snapped, “Then where would you suggest you go to allow the rest of you to speak to each other easily?”

  Caleb knew where he’d rather be. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”

  “Good idea!” Aaron clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Yes, I’m always comfortable in a kitchen.” Samuel glanced sarcastically at Isabelle. “It’s my servant mentality.”

  “Really?” Isabelle proved she did sarcastic as well as he did. “I thought it was because you like to watch a woman prepare food for you.”

  Jacqueline stepped between them. “Great. Then it’s settled. We’ll hold our meetings in the kitchen.”

  “But . . . I . . . My home . . .” Irving waved his arms around the impressive foyer.

  Charisma tucked her hand in his arm and started
toward the stairs that led down to the kitchen. “It’s not that we don’t like your house, Irving. It’s that we respect it too much.”

  Aaron smothered a grin and gave Caleb a thumbs-up.

  “That’s true.” Caleb wrapped his arm around Jacqueline and followed them. “You have to remember that at heart I’m an Italian peasant.”