01 Do You Believe in Magic - The Children of Merlin (33 page)

She climbed out of bed, trying
to ignore the pull toward the kitchen.

Time to get out of here before she
really got hurt, either by Tris Tremaine or by whatever spook-fest
lived in this house. The very thought of leaving made her stomach
heave.

*****

Tris felt her get out of bed. Of
course he did. He felt every move she made. It was like he was
connected to her somehow. Shit. He’d never liked tethers of any
kind. Refused to return messages back when he’d had a cell phone.
Didn’t answer email. And here he was obsessing over Maggie O’Brian
so hard that it felt like he could feel where she was.

And where she was, was moving
quickly around her room. Closet, bathroom, bed.

He knew what that meant. She was
gathering her things.

She was leaving. He braced his
arms on the counter and hung his head. What else had he expected?
He wasn’t what she wanted and she knew that. No home, no family, no
undying loyalty or true love for her if she hooked up with him. He
was a drifter, an outsider in his own family. He fought the urge to
go up there and grip her upper arms and kiss her until she was too
breathless to move. He could make her want him enough that she’d
tumble back in bed with him.

Selfish bastard.
Like
that would be good for Maggie.

He couldn’t do that to her. For
her own good, he had to let her go. His gut wrenched at him. It was
all he could do not to vomit all over his mother’s kitchen. He
lurched over to the French doors and shoved them open. He’d wait
out here until she was gone. For once in his life, he’d think of
somebody besides himself and do what was right for her.

But instead all he felt was
anger. He pounded a fist on the post of the pergola. Couldn’t she
even give him a chance? Had what they’d shared last night meant
nothing to her? Damn her to
hell
for making him feel like
this. She’d fucked him twice, for the hell of it, and was now
getting out before he could leave her. It hadn’t meant to her what
it did to him.

The anger washed out. Maybe he
was angry at himself. Last night... for a minute... true love
hadn’t seemed like such a sad joke. But the joke was on him. He was
getting payback for all those girls he’d left.

He doubled over and retched into
the azaleas. It felt like some cord was being torn apart inside
him, something really important like a climber’s lifeline or a
diver’s air hose. He gasped and retched again. Falling to his
knees, he wrapped his arms around his gut, as much to hold himself
in place as to stop the vomiting.

He heard voices in the hall. And
he knew at least one of them. He couldn’t go out there. Couldn’t.
Sometime later he heard the front door slam, and in another few
moments the sound of the truck roaring to life.

He blinked in exhaustion. The life just
seemed to drain out of him.

*****

“Going so early?”

Maggie whipped around to see
Mrs. Tremaine standing in the shadows of the arch into the main
house in a really lovely sea-green peignoir, her hair down around
her shoulders, looking like a black-haired Glinda the Good Witch
from the
Wizard of Oz
. Maggie swallowed the bile in her
throat and tried to straighten around the cramps in her stomach.
She’d been about to scribble a thank-you note on the pad sitting on
the table in the foyer under the cone of light from a single table
lamp. You didn’t leave a thank-you note when you escaped the
haunted house, but these people seemed so... unhaunted. Except for
Tris. He was haunted, but that was a different thing.

“Got to get back to Elroy.” She
tossed the silver pen back onto the table and clutched her stomach
as a particularly bad cramp passed. She’d already vomited
everything she had in the toilet upstairs, but the cramps just
wouldn’t seem to leave. “My pa,” she amended.

“Oh, of course.” Mrs. Tremaine
stepped closer and looked her over carefully. “You seem upset. My
son hasn’t done anything stupid, has he?”

Maggie flushed to the roots of
her hair. Like make her come half a dozen times? “No,” she
lied.

Mrs. Tremaine smiled and took a
couple of steps toward her. “You don’t look well. Is there anything
I can do?” Her concern seemed so
genuine
. Was this woman
evil? Was this happy, boisterous family she would give anything to
have... evil? If they weren’t then why was she feeling like crap?
Had they poisoned her last night? She had to go for so many
reasons.

“No. No, nothing. I .. I just
have to go. Uh, thank you. You’ve been very kind.”
Maybe.
She turned to go. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was awake,” Mrs. Tremaine
said. “I knew this would be a time of crisis. All I could turn up
were the fives of any suit.”

See? This is the problem,
right here. She probably
could
tell the future with her
cards.
Maggie turned, and her confusion and the stomach cramps
and the hot and cold flashes that even now assaulted her made her
more than a little angry. “Mother’s intuition, Mrs. Tremaine? Or
are we talking something more here?”

“The cards help you channel your
powers of perception, and focus on possibilities. That can seem
like magic but I don’t think it is.”

What a diversion. Not working.
“So. No magic. Because your son wasn’t limping just now and he
doesn’t have a bruise on his body, and something happened to me
yesterday at the barn, and nothing ever happened to me like that
before I met you all. And now I’m sick. And I’m thinking this isn’t
a normal, rich-as-God’s-green-earth, happy family, is it?”

The look of concern on the older
woman’s face deepened. “I have no right to ask anything of you. But
you shouldn’t drive when you’re sick. If you give me a chance, I’ll
explain it all.” She took a couple of hesitant steps toward the
living room. “Come sit over here by Lanyon’s piano and we’ll
talk.”

“No disrespect, but I’ll stay by
the door.” That came out like a gasp. She should be out of here at
a dead run, but she did want an explanation, God help her. She’d be
glad if there was one.

Mrs. Tremaine motioned to a
bench that looked like it was medieval, all big carving and dark
wood. Maggie lowered herself with difficulty. “This might be a bit
of a shock, Maggie. But you’ve guessed much already.”

“If you could make it short,
ma’am, I’d appreciate it.” Rude, but if the woman didn’t want to
witness another heaving session, she’d better get to it.

“Very well. Let’s start with
what you know. I healed Tristram. That is the power I inherited.
I’m a Healer.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. “Power?”
This was
not
the explanation she wanted.

“How else would he heal so
completely? You know how injured he was. He’s been faking the cast
since the first night for your benefit. I healed your bruises
yesterday morning along with some aches and pains you were
having.”

True.
She felt it in her
bones. “You’re a witch.”

Mrs. Tremaine gave a rich
contralto chuckle. “You could call it that. This family carries the
genes, passed down through generations, of a great sorcerer,
Merlin.”

“As in Merlin of Camelot.”
Right.

Mrs. Tremaine didn’t laugh at
what must be her own joke. She just nodded. “We each got only a
piece of his power, though. He had hoped his progeny would have
powers greater than his, that they could change the world for the
better. But instead the magic scattered over the centuries. Maybe
it became recessive because the world wasn’t ready for it. I don’t
know. But it’s reappeared. I’m a Healer. Brian is an Adapter. He
can do pretty much anything if he sees it done once. ” She smiled
ruefully. “A little hard on his sons. Our powers emerged when we
fell in love. We believe Merlin’s DNA creates an attraction between
those who have it, so the powers that were once dispersed can be
aggregated. I guess you could say it’s a genetic version of true
love. It’s hard to resist, and the consequences are... pretty dire
if you do.”

This woman actually believed
this hoo-ha. Maggie frowned. “So you believe your sons and
daughters will be Healers and Adapters too?” She realized that she
felt Tris out on the patio.

“Maybe not. Each one will have
his own brand of power. And who knows what my grandchildren will be
able to do?” She looked excited about that.

Maggie would be willing to bet
money Tris didn’t believe this crap. “So, Kemble is magic? Your
other kids?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.
They haven’t found their one true love.” She looked like she was
gathering herself. “But you’ve found your magic, haven’t you?”

It was as though she’d slapped
Maggie. “What?”
Honey, I’m a dirt-scrabble rancher and rodeo
rider who can barely pay her mortgage and definitely
can’t
heal her dying-of-cirrhosis, piece-of-shit pa.

“That’s what happened to you at
the barn yesterday,” Mrs. Tremaine continued. “You have a power.
I’m not sure what it is exactly, but you know in your bones what
I’m saying is true.”

“I, I just have ... an affinity
with animals. I’m not
magic
for God’s sake.”

“Drew said you not only soothed
the injured horse, but you essentially washed the entire audience
with a sense of calm and well-being.”

“It wasn’t me.”
But it
was.

“Anything like that ever happen
before? Maybe after you met Tristram?”

God, the time when I calmed him
on the way to the ER!

“I thought so. You two are meant
for each other. You have Merlin’s genes too.”

“I’m Irish,” Maggie protested,
feeling like an idiot for even getting drawn into this
conversation. But part of her was saying,
There’s got to be some
explanation for what happened yesterday. Psychic abilities,
radiation poisoning, spider bite?

“Ireland is riddled with Celtic
clans. You’ve got Merlin’s blood. Your power is proof.”

This can
so
not be
happening. I don’t want to be magic. I just want to be wanted,
permanently. Not someone you can just toss off and discard. Like
Tris does his women.

But if we’re destined, maybe he
can’t cast me off.

Dangerous thought. Wishful
thinking was always dangerous. Tris wasn’t coming in from the
patio. Did he know she was here? Something tickled her brain,
quenching the hope rising there. “So, uh, Tris get his, uh, power
yet?”

She knew right away she’d hit
home. Mrs. Tremaine frowned. That said it all. He might be her one
true love, but she wasn’t his.

Mrs. Tremaine tried to recover.
“We’ve all seen how he’s been looking at you....”

“Well, I hate to break it to
you, Mrs. Tremaine, but he’s probably looked at hundreds of women
that way, and he’ll look at hundreds more. I’m outta here.”

The cramp that struck her made
it almost impossible to push herself up from the bench.

Mrs. Tremaine reached out a
hand. “You can’t go, my dear,” she pleaded. “Refusing the call of
your DNA will kill your soul.”

Maggie shrugged it off. “Look, being
tossed aside is one rodeo I’m not up for anymore. As long as I
avoid that, I’ll be just fine.” Tris wasn’t coming in from the
patio for a reason. Maggie hauled open the door and then pulled it
shut behind her as she staggered out.

*****

“Tristram, are you going to just
let her go like that?”

Tris didn’t want his mother to
see him heave into the azaleas in the predawn light. He felt Maggie
gunning her truck up the driveway. It was like she was tearing his
guts out, they hurt so bad. He pushed himself up and wiped his
mouth. “Yeah. That’s about it.”

His mother heaved an exasperated
sigh. “You know she loves you, don’t you?”

Maggie love him? A guy who
couldn’t give her what she wanted most? If there was even a hint of
her growing to love him, it would just make it worse for her. She’d
be in for a double scoop of unhappiness with a cherry on top when
he disappointed her. Because Tris was bound to disappoint her.

“She’ll get over it,” was what
he said.

“Why do you think you’re sick?”
his mother asked, her voice hard.

“Too much drink and sex?” he
sneered. Maggie was a raw wound and he wasn’t going to let his
mother poke around in it, not right now.

She threw up her hands. “No,
idiot offspring. Because you’re letting your one true love leave
you, and denying your nature.”

Tris pushed himself by sliding
up the four-by-four post of the pergola and leaned against it for
support. “My nature. You must mean the long line of Tremaine
mechanics that seems to run in my veins? Mrs. Tremaine, I’m not
sure who my parents really are, but I doubt they’re either you or
your husband.” When he saw her face crumple, he knew he’d gone too
far. But that’s what you got from a disappointment. She should
expect him to be an ungrateful bastard.

She gathered herself and set her
lips. “She got her power. Yesterday at the barn.”

That hit Tris between the eyes.
The calming thing. Was that a power? Could it be that Maggie
did
love him? Nah. How pathetic that he could get his hopes
up so quickly. “She had that before we....” He trailed off. Didn’t
exactly want to tell his mother they’d screwed. “She calmed me down
when she dragged me into the ER after the accident.”

“But she’d met you, right? You
knew her before the accident....”

“I’d met her
twice
. It
wasn’t like it was true love or anything. I just thought she was...
interesting.” He saw his mother getting excited. “But even before I
met her,” he continued, like taking a knife to his heart, “she
could calm wild horses.” Maggie must have had a “one true love” who
awakened her power. It just wasn’t him. That made Tris feel sick
again, but in a new way. Sick with anger and jealousy.