To Spell & Back Page 12

  “Repel and redirect? This was my fault, then.” Terra tossed an apologetic look in Flix’s direction and then fixed her gaze on me. “I overheard you talking to Salem, and I knew you wouldn’t ask me for help. So...I added my protection into the mix. Unfortunately, I went with a variation, and I guess the different energies must have generated a feedback loop when Serena’s intentions triggered them.”

  Despite Carl not looking too happy with him, Flix couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Must have hit her like a ten-ton gargoyle on a rampage.”

  “You put some whammy on me without even asking?” Carl and Flix stepped outside to have an earnest conversation that involved a lot of hand gestures and dirty looks while the rest of us failed miserably at trying not to watch. They kissed and made up, finally, but anyone with eyes could see the hint of resentment still simmering under Carl’s placid demeanor.

  Even the faeries picked up on it, and they often miss the finer emotional strokes.

  “You know what we need? A game night,” Soleil bounced in place and even though I know he loves me, the sight of a well-proportioned, absolutely gorgeous hunk of Fae jiggling around in front of Kin was enough to make his eyes glaze over. I’d wonder about his testosterone levels if it didn’t.

  “A what?”

  “You’re drooling, Sweetie.” I nudged his mouth closed with my index finger. How is it a man can go from being reasonably suave, with a command of the English language, to a gibbering, monosyllabic mouth-breather at the mere sight of a little jiggling flesh?

  “You in?” I said to Flix. As the reigning champion from our last game night, he had a title to defend. “It’s too late tonight, but Kin doesn’t have a gig this weekend, so we’ll plan it for Saturday—make a night of it.”

  “Oh, I’m in, and you’re going down, Balefire.”

  Chapter Twelve

  KIN WANTED TO STAY, but I convinced him to go home. I had a trip to make to the past, and I wanted to get it done without any more drama than we’d already had for one night.

  It had taken just under a week for the ring to recharge this time. After each trip to the past, the carvings on the band altered slightly. Tonight, two of the circles had filled in as though marked off a list and another shimmed with an inner fire.

  The crossed out spaces reminded me of those exams we took in school where you had to use a number two pencil to fill in an oval for each answer. I hated those tests. Unless you sharpen your pencil every two minutes, there’s no way to stay inside the lines.

  “Salem.” I called to him with both voice and mind, “It’s go time.” He’d meet me in the sanctum, which lately he’d taken to calling my laboratory with a distinctly Frankensteinian pronunciation.

  “I’m right here,” he announced as the fireplace closed behind me. “I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve completed my mission.” I wanted to ask if his virtue was still intact, but I didn't dare.

  “And, did you learn anything?”

  “I did. Big news and you’re going to want to sit down for it.” Since I already was, I gave him the circling hand wave to indicate he should continue—well, that and a smirk.

  “Serena’s pregnant,” and so was the pause he took after dropping that bombshell on me.

  “She’s what now?” It was almost too much to contemplate.

  “Knocked up. With child. Preggers. Explains why she’s going to some lengths to get what she wants. There was some dark magic brewing, and she’s dead serious about finding Jett.”

  “Wow! That’s all I can...I can’t wrap my head around it.”

  “You should also know that I’m done. Do you hear me? I will not be pimped out ever again. Do you know that horrible cat of hers, Morana, wanted to do it in human form? It’s disgusting, Lexi, and you’re lucky I got away before she started trying to undress me. I refuse to go back.”

  So many ewws. “Um, I’m sorry?” What was I supposed to say to that? “You’re off the hook if that makes you feel any better, and I’ll buy you a tuna steak,” I added when he continued to frown and glare at me. What more could I say? My head was spinning, and I needed a minute to process his news. Not that I had a minute right then.

  Refocus, Lexi. I shook a mental finger at myself.

  But that baby is going to be related to you. Myself answered back.

  You shut up right now.

  “Didn’t you hear me say it’s go time? Let’s get to it; it’ll make you feel better,” and take my mind off other things before I lose it down the rabbit hole to Wonderland. Or worse, Blunderland.

  “Okay, he sighed. But let’s call it an even dozen tuna steaks. I’ve got the checklist.” He picked up a notepad from the ottoman in front of him, and then cast a critical eye over my clothes. I felt like a teenager trying on prom dresses in front of her dad. “Sneakers? After last time? Go back and get a pair of boots and not the ones with heels. Something sturdy.”

  “I'm not going to trip over a branch every time.” Unimpressed by my superior logic, he did the finger whirl that meant I should turn around and do what he said. “You’re not the boss of me,” I muttered on my way back through the fireplace.

  When I returned wearing boots, jeans, and several light layers, he grinned his approval.

  “You’ve got the compass?”

  I pulled it out of the neck of my shirt along with the Stone of Blood. Salem gave me an eloquently-raised brow when he saw them both dangling from my fingers.

  “Family heirloom.” Having seen my great-grandmother sporting the pendant, I’d reconsidered my feelings about being connected to my past. My mother had only been the most recent bearer in a long line of them, and while she deserved no respect, I would not dishonor the Balefire name by refusing to wear the stone.

  “This should be a piece of crab cake.”

  “Yuck. That’s not right at all.” And now I had a weird mental image. Thanks.

  “It’s cake. Works for me.” Salem licked his lips with a dreamy expression at the thought.

  “Besides, you just jinxed me.”

  “Did not.” He retorted.

  Before we devolved to a grade school level did not-did too fight, I held up a hand. “Enough. I’m going to go now.”

  Filling my thoughts with the image of living gold, I twisted the ring and let myself sink into the familiar feeling of being tugged along through the dimensional passageways. Threads of time wove around me, curling into tendrils of nothing if I reached my fingers toward them.

  I landed in a white whirlwind of stinging snow and cold that felt like a monster biting at my bones. Blizzard conditions caught my breath almost before it could leave my lips and flung it back down my throat in a choking wall of frigid air. The sweatshirt tied around my waist added very little extra heat to the layers of clothing I already wore. I thanked my lucky stars that Salem had made me put on boots and that he’d stuffed a pair of gloves into the pocket of my hoodie. I should have listened when he suggested a winter coat, the dirty minx.

  The sound of my teeth chattering disguised the ping when the compass homed in on what I’d come here to find, and I could barely see it past the ice forming on my lashes. If the gold was more than a five-minute walk from here, I doubted I would make it. If I froze to death, what would happen to my body? And why hadn’t I considered that particular question before I let myself get drawn into this situation? Salem tried to warn me about being prepared, and I’d let the last two trips blind me to the chance of bad weather.

  Still, if my luck held, and I was, once again, in the space where Clara would one day stand frozen, I was close enough to make it to the house if I hurried. I couldn’t see anything through the blinding storm, but I set off for where the compass pointed.

  Five minutes felt like an hour while I struggled through the cold and a series of what if thoughts. What if the gold wasn’t inside the house? What if I couldn’t open the door when I got there? What if?

  Each question fell away as I put one foot in front of the other and by the time I slammed into the shi
ngled wall, I had stopped thinking altogether. The only thing keeping me going was the need to find warmth.

  No one spared me a glance as I stumbled inside on a drift of snow and wind, slamming the door behind me. My feet carried me along the familiar path to the fireplace without me providing them any direction, which was good because I was long past thinking at that point. The Balefire danced blue and green and yellow while I thrust my hands toward her brilliant flame. For the first time, I knew how a flower felt when it bent its face toward the sun.

  If you’re going to thaw out in front of a fireplace, by all means, choose a magical one. Only a few scant minutes passed before I stopped shaking like a leaf and tuned into my surroundings well enough to get an idea of when I was.

  “Clara, you’re too young yet to understand this.” I recognized my grandmother, mainly because she looked just as I had at her age, which I guessed to be around thirteen, though I couldn’t tell if she had been Awakened yet or not. Plus, the name Clara tipped me off. She sat cross-legged at the edge of the fireplace, so close to me I could see the flecks of amber in her green eyes, which lost their sparkle at the other girl’s slight.

  “Stop treating me like a child. You’re my sister, not my mother, Margaret; I’m nearly old enough to get married myself.” Whoa, how times have changed. I knew Clara had been around two hundred and fifty years old at the time she turned to stone, and that meant I had just popped into the eighteenth century when the normal human life expectancy was several decades shorter than in my time. People married younger out of necessity.

  Margaret? I had a great aunt named Margaret, and no one had ever told me? Was she dead? And if she wasn’t, why hadn’t she come looking for me a long time ago?

  Still, there was something about the girl that niggled at my memory. The twist of her head or the shape of her jaw. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “Like anyone would want to marry you,” Margaret replied with a sneer.

  Clara’s fingers strayed to the Balefire, and I watched in astonishment as she lifted one of the flames into her hand and flicked her finger. It morphed into a palm-sized dragon and let out a breath of fire before turning in a circle, lying down and disappearing. If she still hadn’t come into her powers, Clara was more gifted than I had even guessed.

  “My future husband is going to be gentle and sweet like Daddy was, not a freak like that God you love so much.”

  “Being sweet and gentle was what got Daddy killed, Clara. You’d be better off with someone you won’t outlive. Trust me on that one.”

  “Oh, Mag. Don’t talk about him like that. He was twice the man Cupid will ever be.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Clara,” Mag replied in a tone that indicated they’d had variations of the same conversation more than once.

  Mag? The Mudwitch? The same woman who had threatened to turn me into a modern-day Cinderella and then given me the ring that had brought me to this exact place and time. That Mag? Now that I knew where to look for it, I could see the resemblance between this fresh-faced teen and the fluffy-haired woman who reminded me of a grandmother and acted like a snake.

  Well, isn’t that just peachy? Our whole conversation on the night she’d caught me doing a bit of breaking and entering into her cottage came back to me. The way she assumed I was Sylvana, and that I’d come to make trouble; the look in her eyes when she realized I wasn’t; and the way she’d pressed the ring into my hand and bade me hide it away.

  Even if I hadn’t known who she was at the time, it seemed as though she’d tried to help me. Still, I couldn’t help feeling a bit hurt that she’d made no effort to let me in on our shared heritage. Hadn’t she realized I might need some guidance? Or at least a history lesson?

  Then again, what had she earned for her trouble? Sylvana could easily have been the one to go back and blast that charming little homage to Victoriana right off the roots that made up its foundation.

  Now I felt even worse. When I got back, I vowed to find Mag and make sure she was all right. If I got some answers in the process, all the better.

  I’d pulled the compass back out, but hardly had time to look at it when someone started banging on the front door. What idiot would be out traveling on a night like this? You know, besides me.

  Tempest emerged from the kitchen, and I was surprised by the change in her. She looked older and more tired than she should, and I wondered how old she’d been when she’d met Kenneth. The family tree listed on the first pages of the Grimoire handed down to me didn’t include dates, and as such had been perused with only moderate curiosity. It hadn’t occurred to me that any of them were still kicking around, and since nobody had ever come to call, I’d assumed I’d been correct.

  Nothing could have prepared me for who was on the other side of that door when it opened. Nothing.

  No weary traveler lost in the storm, no neighbor who needed healing or help with birthing a baby; instead, it was my father’s face that appeared out of the swirling flakes and howling wind. What was he doing here? Again.

  Had the mere mention of his name drawn him to this place, or had he kept as close an eye on the Balefire witches as Clara had inferred?

  A long wool coat draped over broad shoulders, and he wore a top hat rakishly pulled low over one eye as he stepped inside like he had a right to be there. My eyes searched his face for a shred of any trait we shared. Intuitive knowledge of lovers was one thing, but it would have been nice to see something physical that I could point to and say, I get that from my dad.

  All I saw was arrogance, and I’m not that girl. I guess that’s the difference between being a God and being half of one.

  Old enough to feel the aura of magnetism he wore like a second skin, Mag cast an appreciative eye over the man who took up too much space in the room. Clara, younger by a good seven or eight years, merely stared at him with suspicion while I wrestled with similar feelings.

  The abandoned child inside me insisted that this was Father, Daddy, someone I should want to know and who should want to know me. Family. Sometimes that word is more a curse than a blessing. Every little girl without a father yearns for that feeling of safety found only in the strong arms of the one man who, by reason of her birth, should be committed to keeping her safe. There are a lot of us who will forever be denied the pleasure. I needed to separate myself from that kind of thinking and see him for who he was. A god who didn’t play by human rules.

  “Mother?” A wealth of questions threaded through Clara’s voice.

  “I’m fine,” Tempest reassured her daughter, but the look she gave Cupid was full of fire. “Come, you must be frozen, let me get you a hot drink.” His eyes traveled over her with a speculation I couldn’t define because it had more to it than sexual interest. “Girls, you’ll stay here.” Her tone brooked no refusal, but it didn’t apply to me and, forgetting my mission, I followed.

  “What are you doing here? I told you, the answer is no. Always no.”

  “You’re still a young woman.” Again his gaze took her in, “Relatively. I thought you might feel the need for some...masculine interaction.”

  “My husband is still fresh in his grave, and I’d not disrespect his memory by taking up with another man so soon. And should I feel such a need, t’would never be with the likes of you.”

  Cupid’s eyes widened, then narrowed. I got the impression his thoughts were running along the lines of, you don’t want to get with all of this?

  Clearly, the answer was no, and he wasn’t used to a woman who didn’t trip over her panties trying to jump into bed with him. If the whole thing didn’t make me feel icky, I’d have laughed myself into a heap on the floor. The look on his face was priceless. I shook my head at the idea that someone who was clearly well-versed at playing the game could also incite lifelong love and passion, and bring true soul mates together. It didn’t look to me like Father had a true love of his own, and that bit of information simply smacked of irony.

  “Mother, is everyt
hing all right?” Clara appeared in the doorway, her face a study in dark worry.

  “I’m fine, Clara. Go back to your sister. Our guest was just leaving.”

  “Think carefully about your decision. My patience is not endless. One of these days, you’ll miss your last chance with me.” Hah, that was about as truthful coming from him as it was from those robotic telemarketing calls that assure you there’s nothing wrong with your credit, but this is your last shot at reducing your interest rate.

  Tempest’s lips twisted in an attempt to hold back a smirk. “Thank you for the warning.”

  The second the door closed behind him, Margaret burst out, “Did you see how handsome he was?”

  “Handsome on the surface, but underneath there's darkness and light in equal measure without enough conscience to choose between them.”

  Mag sniffed at Clara’s observation, almost ridiculous in its astuteness, considering how young she was then. “What did he want?”

  “He wanted Mother.”

  “She ought to have said yes; get us out of this godforsaken town and back to Ireland where we belong. Someday, I’ll get to see it, and London and Rome, too.”

  “What about us? You’d just leave us behind?”

  Mag considered Clara’s question with the jaded look of superiority every teenager since the beginning of time has learned to cultivate. I think it’s part of puberty; something in our DNA—perhaps the equivalent of whatever instinct prompts all animals to venture out on their own once they’re capable of surviving without a parent’s care. Or maybe it’s just the opposite; preparation for the inevitable loss a mother feels when her children are no longer dependent. Irritate her well and good so when you’re gone relief takes the place of grief.

  Fascinated as I was, it was time to get the living gold before the ring called me back and I lost my chance. The compass needle swung wildly, and for long enough that I began to worry before it finally pointed toward the fireplace. It took under a minute to verify there was no gold on this side, and I realized I would have to enter the room behind the Balefire. The room that would one day become my sanctum.