Daughter of the Spellcaster (13 page)

“I’m sorry to send you out in the rain.”

“I won’t melt.”

“Thanks.” She started to leave, but he put a hand on her shoulder.

“What about you? Are you okay?”

Turning, she smiled at him. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Okay.”

She headed back into her mother’s room and sat down beside the bed again, stroking her hand. She seemed to have sunk back into sleep, though. No more muttering or tossing. Lena spoke softly to her, in case she could hear, and within a few minutes the scent of sandalwood told her that Bahru had arrived.

Barefoot, he walked into the room and over to the bed. “How is she doing?” he asked softly, his deep brown, thickly fringed eyes on Selma’s still form.

“Better. She was really agitated, and then just...not.”

“I could perform Reiki for her, if you wish it?” he asked.

“That would be wonderful, Bahru. Thank you.”

He pressed his palms together and bowed a little bit, then rubbed them to get them warm and moved to the other side of the bed. Closing his eyes, he laid his hands on Selma’s head, cupping the top of her skull, thumbs touching.

Lena backed away, then turned toward the door, where Ryan stood watching. “I think she’ll rest now. We can leave her in Bahru’s hands for a little while. I, for one, need a hot shower and a huge breakfast.”

“What is it he’s doing?” Ryan whispered with a nod toward the bed.

“Reiki. It’s an eastern energy healing practice. Mom would want it.”

“From
him?
”

Lena frowned. “He’s only trying to help, Ryan.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I guess so. But...then there’s my gut.” He was speaking quietly, but she kept thinking Bahru could hear them if he wanted to.

She closed her eyes slowly. It was nice that Ryan cared enough about her mother to even offer an opinion, especially one he knew was likely to piss her off. “So what do you suggest?”

“You stay in the room with him, I’ll make us that huge breakfast. You can eat first, shower later. Good?”

She licked her lips. “I would argue with you, except...I’ve had your breakfasts before.”

“Yeah. Heavenly, right?”

“Sinfully divine,” she admitted. She wondered whether, if she just slid right into his arms right now, he would wrap his around her and kiss her good-morning like he used to do, all hot and steamy, especially if they’d just made love before getting out of bed. And if he did, would everything just magically go back to the way it had been before, only with him loving her this time?

“So it’s a deal?” he asked.

She blinked out of the fantasy, had to work to recall what they’d been talking about. “Yeah. It’s a deal.”

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed her on the mouth, a quick, familiar peck, as if they’d been doing it for years. Immediately he froze, and so did she. Their eyes locked, and she shivered right to her toes.

“I’ve got a storybook I want to show you later. Remind me, okay?”

“A storybook?”

Her stomach growled. “Go make my breakfast, already.”

He smiled, then turned and hurried away. She watched him go, trying to still the ecstatic little girl inside who was jumping up and down, and conjuring visions of domestic bliss.
Shut up, kid,
she commanded. And then she turned to Bahru. “I’ll help, okay?”

“Of course,” he whispered.

Lena moved to the foot of the bed and pulled the covers from her mom’s feet, then put her hands on them and mentally sent the sacred symbols of Reiki into her mother’s body.

“There is something you should know about him, Lena,” Bahru said softly.

“About who? Ryan?” she asked, her hands already growing warm as the power moved through them.

“Yes. I...” He looked at the floor. “I do not wish to cause him problems, but I feel you should know the truth.”

“And what is the truth, Bahru?” She narrowed her eyes on the guru, watching him closely.

“Before we left, I...I overheard him on the telephone discussing...custody law.”

The bottom fell out of her stomach. “Custody law?”

“A father’s rights.”

She pulled her hands away from her mother’s feet, so the anger zapping through her wouldn’t shoot into Selma and set her hair on fire. “A father’s rights?”

“I suspect he came here to...to inspect the home you will provide for the little one. More specifically, to look for flaws he can use to his favor in any future custody battle.”

“You think he’s going to try to take my baby away from me?”

Bahru lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “I cannot claim to know what his intentions are. I only felt you should be forewarned, just in case.”

“Son of a–”

“Take care, Magdalena. Anger isn’t good for the baby.”

She sent him a scowl. He closed his eyes as if to shut it out. “I am sorry. Believe me, I am.”

“For what? You didn’t do anything but tell me.”

But he lowered his eyes as if he had. Just like Bahru to feel guilty for ratting out a McNally, right? Maybe his loyalty to Ernst was bleeding over onto Ryan. But Lena was grateful he had overcome it enough to give her the heads-up. If Ryan thought for one earthly instant that he could take her baby away from her...well, he’d better think again.

“I’ve done what I can,” Bahru said softly, lifting his hands from her mother’s head. “I can do more later, when things are less...tumultuous.”

“Yes. Fine. Listen, Ryan’s cooking. Would you like some breakfast?”

“Thank you, but no. I am fasting today.”

“You’re already barely more than a bag of bones, Bahru. If you were caught by starving cannibals, they’d throw you back out of mercy.”

He grinned at her, looking like the old Bahru for just the briefest second. And only in that second did she realize how different he’d been before she’d left Manhattan. Before she had quit her job. Before Ernst had died. So much lighter. There was a new darkness around Bahru, a shadow behind his eyes and a heaviness to his being that she was only now seeing.

“I have already stocked my little cottage with supplies.”

“And where did you manage to find wheat grass and goat’s milk out here?”

His smile flashed again. “I bought enough to last an entire month from the Whole Earth Co-Op before we left the city.”

“You’re good to go, then.”

“I am.” His smile faded slowly. “You’ve never been anything but kind to me, Lena. I wish...” He hesitated, gathered himself, then went on. “I wish this wasn’t necessary.”

“What? Telling me Ryan’s secrets? It’s all right, Bahru. I won’t shoot the messenger.”

He couldn’t seem to hold her eyes for more than a moment at a time. He couldn’t have looked guiltier if he’d been caught stealing candy from her baby. “I will be nearby should you need me again.”

“Thanks, Bahru.”

Palm press. Head bow. Then he padded away into the hall and down the stairs.

She watched him go, then stared down at her mother’s sleeping form. “You’d think we were having a funeral in here, wouldn’t you? Hell, I guess he’s still in mourning. You know how much he loved the old billionaire, right?” Her lips thinned. “It bothers him, ratting Ryan out to me like that.”

Selma said nothing, just lay still, peaceful.

“I’m going down for some breakfast, Mom. If you wake up, I’ll bring you something. And if you don’t wake up pretty soon, I’m going to have to take you to a hospital so they can put an IV into you before you starve to death. But I’m willing to give you a little more time. Okay?”

Nothing. She bent to kiss her mother’s forehead, then straightened again and headed down to the kitchen, where Ryan was looking as domestic, well-intentioned and innocent as he could possibly manage to look.

Her first instinct was to flay him to the bone—verbally, anyway—for daring to even think about taking custody of Eleanora—the name the baby had made it clear she’d chosen for herself. She paused halfway into the kitchen, gathering up her words and her wits, working up to a big explosion while he scooped a giant, perfect omelet from the pan and divided it onto two waiting plates. Before he even looked up, he said, “I need to return the truck to the nearest U-Haul place today. But I need a vehicle of some sort while I’m here. Is there a dealer anywhere close?”

“A dealer?” Her mind wasn’t on what he was saying but on constructing the telling-off he was about to receive.

“A car dealer. Truck, really. I think out here we need a truck. Don’t you?”

She blinked. He looked up at her, then seemed to wonder what was going on in her head and studied her curiously. “You all right? You look like you just swallowed a lemon.”

It wasn’t a lemon she was swallowing. It was her well-deserved rant. Because he had just reminded her of something. He was the kind of guy who could drive into town to return a rental truck and stop along the way to buy a brand-new vehicle, any kind he wanted. If it could be found, he could plunk down his credit card and drive it away.

He could afford the best lawyers in the world. And he could afford to do whatever it took to win a custody battle.

Then again, so could she. But she wouldn’t use the baby’s trust fund that way, and he probably knew it.

She would fight him to the death, even if it cost everything else she had, but she hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. However, it might be best not to show her hand too soon. And not to antagonize him until she had her own game plan laid out.

Drawing a deep breath, she focused on shifting her anger onto a back burner to keep it warm until the time was right. In the meantime, she would make nice.

“Lena?”

“No, I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile and moving toward the table. “Just tired, and of course worried about Mom.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.”

“About Mom?”

He nodded, carrying the plates to the table, then spinning back to the oven and pulling out a tray of biscuits that wafted a heavenly aroma throughout the entire kitchen.

“You made biscuits?”

“The little pop-can of dough was just sitting in the fridge, so...” He quickly plunked a couple onto their plates.

Finally he sat.

She eyed the feast before her. A bottle of hot sauce stood in the center of the table. He’d remembered that she liked it on her eggs. Her tea was already poured. He had coffee, and it smelled heavenly. But no caffeine for their daughter.

Lena was reluctantly grateful, and seeing him like this, all helpful and concerned about her mother, she had trouble believing he was secretly plotting to steal her baby. On the other hand, both the house ghost and Bahru were warning her now. So there had to be something to it, right?

“Dig in, babe. You’re eating for two.”

She nodded, and since she was starved and it smelled delicious, she ate a few bites. Then she paused, and decided to go fishing. “Ryan?” she asked, after washing down the luscious omelet with a swig of tea.

“Yeah?”

“I...I ran away from you because I thought a baby was the last thing in the world you would want.”

He nodded. “I know that.”

“But I wasn’t lying before, when I said I never intended to have this child in secret. I mean, I know I let an awful lot of time go by, but I really was going to call and let you know.”

He stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. “I know you were.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” He searched her face. “Look, I was acting like an idiot back then. And the thing is...” He set his fork down and seemed to turn his attention inside for a moment. Then, with a firm nod, he faced her again and went on. “Here’s the thing. I was doing it on purpose.”

She blinked. “I don’t...follow.”

“I didn’t want you or any woman to ever think of me as a guy who could be...you know, landed.”

“Landed. Like a fish.”

“Right.” That wasn’t the kind of fishing she’d meant, though. “I was playing the role everybody expected me to. I think I might even have believed it myself, so I can’t really blame you for buying the act.”

“Act?”

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. It was big and strong and warm, and it sent chills right up her arm. “I came out here to start trying to show you who I
really
am, Lena. I came out here to try to earn the right to be a part of our child’s life.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I...I mean I—”

“No, don’t. I’m not asking you for anything right now. You’ve got enough on your mind. I’m here. Just let me hang, let me help, lean on me a little, and don’t worry about anything else. Not right now. Okay?”

She wanted to believe him more than she wanted to finish the luscious omelet. And
that
was saying something. “Okay.”

“Good. Now, eat, will you?”

Maybe Bahru was wrong. Or maybe Ryan
had
talked to a lawyer, but only because he was worried that
she
would try to keep the baby from
him,
not the opposite. Maybe...maybe a hundred things.

“Eat,” he said again.

It made her smile just a little. “You don’t have to tell me to eat. You’re lucky I haven’t eaten
you
by now.”

His smile was instant and genuine. “I’ve really missed you, Lena.”

Her heart did a little dance in her chest, and she whispered, “I’ve missed you, too.”

9

H
e felt good—damn good—about the way things were going with Lena. Except, of course, for whatever the hell had happened to her mother. Not to mention that he was still antsy about the magic knife he had tucked under the seat of the rental truck, but he was trying not to let that bother him too much right now. Meanwhile, he had a project to get underway, and he needed a pickup.

He drove the rental through the pouring rain into nearby Ithaca and chose a big black F250 extended-cab truck, so he could fit a baby carrier in the backseat. The dealer handed him the keys and agreed to return the rental truck for him.

Before he left, he took that damned box out from under the rental truck’s seat and tucked it underneath the front seat of the new one.

One task down.

Task two, the local hardware store back in Milbury for paintbrushes and rollers, trays and blue tape, sandpaper and more. He intended to make himself useful while he was taking up space in Lena’s old farmhouse, and contrary to popular belief, he knew how to work with his hands. He’d helped more than one friend redo a room.

He was pondering paint colors for the trim—pink to go with Lena’s premonition, or a gender-neutral yellow or green?—when he overheard a man’s voice an aisle over.

“It happened last night. Ben Fromer’s farm.”

“No fucking way. A
calf?
”

“Just a few days old. Some bastard slit its throat, left it lying there. And get this—not a drop of blood anywhere.”

“What the
hell,
man? Second time this month, isn’t it?”

“That we know of.”

“So what’s the sheriff say?”

“Shit, he’s as clueless as the rest of us. Thinks it might be kids playing around with occult shit or something, but what the hell are they doing with the blood?”

The two men stopped talking and looked at Ryan with undisguised curiosity, and only then did he realize he’d moved closer, inching around the corner and forgetting to be discreet. He was standing three feet away now, and looking right at the men, one of whom wore a red apron with the store logo on the front, so he shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, I...was looking to get some paint mixed?” He held up the color cards in his hand.

They eyed him suspiciously, but the man in the apron, whose name tag identified him as Bob, took the cards from his hand and nodded, while the other guy wandered away.

“You’re not a local, are you?” Bob asked as he yanked a can of white base coat off the shelf and took it to the mixing stand.

“No, I’m visiting. Staying with Lena Dunkirk and her mother.”

Bob’s eyes shot to Ryan’s. “Talk around town is those two are some kind of new-age crystal-wearing witches or something. You know anything about that?”

Definitely not good, Ryan thought. Lena seemed to believe they’d been “flying” under the radar. Clearly that was not the case. “Huh,” he said. “I’ve known them for over a year, and I’ve never seen either one of them riding a broomstick. But I’ll be sure to keep an eye out.”

The guy grunted. “Been strange things happening since they came here.”

“Since they came here? Really? ’Cause they’ve been here more than six months now, and didn’t that other guy say the weird stuff started a month or so ago? Or is there other weird stuff, besides that thing with the calf blood?”

“No, no, that’s the only thing. Unless you count the weather.”

“The weather?”

The man nodded toward the front windows. “It’s January, friend. And it’s raining. It ought to be snowing. But it’s raining. That’s weird.”

“That’s global warming. I know people are still arguing about whether it’s man-made or a natural cycle, but I don’t think anyone’s claiming it’s witchcraft.”

Bob shrugged. “Still and all, we never had calves with their throats cut
before
those two moved out here.”

“Come on, now, you really think a woman who’s eight months pregnant and her mother are into sneaking out at night and butchering cattle?”

“Scuttlebutt is, one of ’em was out in the woods doin’
somethin’
last night, though.”

Ryan’s blood ran cold. “This town has some grapevine. But you ought to know better than to listen to gossip like that, friend. Someone could get hurt.”

Bob focused on his work, running his finger along a color chart. “I’ll have this ready for you in about ten minutes. You have other shopping to do?”

“Yeah, I do,” Ryan said, knowing he’d just been told to take a hike. So he did. But damn, this kind of gossip, combined with what looked like ritual cattle murders, did not bode well for Lena and her mother.

Shit, maybe some local had taken it upon himself to do something about it. Maybe that was what had happened to Selma. He was suddenly eager to get back to the house, to warn the women about the sort of talk being generated about them. It was dangerous talk. And it needed to stop.

* * *

Lena had spent the entire gloomy, rainy morning working on her hand-stenciled sunflower border in the kitchen. When she heard the car in the driveway she smiled. It had to be Ryan, back from his errands, and the thought of him walking through the front door filled her entire body with a ridiculous warm, glowy feeling that was, she decided, very poorly thought out. Okay, not thought out at all. She had to be careful, because she could far too easily fall far too in love with him and get her heart broken all over again.

She’d decided to wait for him to get back from his errands to make up her mind whether to take her mother to the hospital or not. Doc had already phoned in to check on her, and he’d said she would probably sleep for a few more hours. It had been a late night, after all. He’d promised to come by later in the day.

When she heard a knock at the front door, though, she frowned. Didn’t Ryan know he could just walk right in? She went to the door, wiping her hands on a rag, yanked it open and felt her welcoming smile freeze in place when she met the sky-blue eyes of the blond-haired, steely-faced woman in a white, faux-fur-trimmed raincoat standing at the door, a large tote bag over her shoulder.

“Ms. Dunkirk?” the woman asked.

“Uh...yes?”

“Eloise Sheldrake, R.N.”

Lena frowned. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Doc Cartwright sent me. He has a full day and asked me to check in on your mother for him.”

“Oh.” Lena stepped aside and waved the woman in. Just before she closed the door, she saw a little black cat streak across the driveway toward the small shed and duck inside through a broken board. She had no idea where it had come from, but at least it had found shelter.

She closed the door and returned her attention to her visitor. “I’m glad you’re here, actually, because I just don’t know what to do about feeding her. I mean, if she doesn’t wake up soon, she’s going to need an IV or something, right?”

“We’ll see.” Eloise smiled. It was a only a brief flicker, but it transformed her face. She was beautiful when she smiled. But the expressionless mask returned instantly. “Is she upstairs?” the nurse asked with a glance at the stairway.

“Yes. I’ll take you up. Can I get your coat?”

Eloise took off her coat, revealing a uniform that could have come from the 1960s and went perfectly with her sensible shoes. Then she pulled an old-fashioned nurse’s cap out of the bag and put it on, complete with two bobby pins to anchor it to her blond hair. She pulled a little black satchel from inside her bag, then gave a firm nod and met Lena’s eyes again. “Take me to her now. Her name is Selma?”

“Yes. This way.” Lena swallowed her misgivings as she led Eloise up the stairs. Doc had talked often about a nurse, had even tried to convince her to have one move in until the baby came. She was pretty sure this must be the nurse in question, though she’d expected someone a bit older. This woman was, she estimated, in her thirties.

She led the nurse into her mother’s bedroom, then stopped, staring in shock.

Selma was sitting up in bed, thumbing through a magazine. She looked up when they came into the room and smiled. “Well, hi, honey. I don’t know what’s the matter with me this morning. I’m so
tired
. I think I might be coming down with something.” Then her eyes shifted to the nurse. Her expression turned curious but remained friendly. “Hello.”

“Hello, Selma.”

“Mom, this is Nurse Sheldrake–”

“Eloise, if you don’t mind,” said the nurse.

“Doc Cartwright sent her over to have a look at you.”

Selma frowned. “But...how did
he
know I wasn’t feeling well?”

Lena bit her lower lip, then turned to the nurse. “Eloise, can you give us a minute? There’s coffee in the kitchen. Why don’t you make yourself a cup?”

Those striking blue eyes shifted from Selma to Lena, but her expression never changed. Stony. “Fine. I’ll be back in five minutes.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

“Hon, what’s going on?” Selma asked.

Lena sat on the edge of the bed. “You never came home from last night’s...” she looked toward the doorway and lowered her voice “...gathering.” Her mother looked a little confused, so Lena clarified in a whisper. “You had a full moon esbat last night with Betty and Jean.”

“Oh, right.” Selma sent a look at the ceiling with a self-deprecating shake of her head. “Gosh, brain-dead this morning. I remember now. It was
great,
Lena. You should have been there. Betty got some flash paper and didn’t tell us, so we damn near jumped right out of our skins when she—” She stopped there, her frown returning, deeper than before. “I didn’t come home?”

“No. We got worried and went looking, and we found your car along the side of the road, near the woods. Apparently you went into the woodlot, then tried to cut across the field to the house.”

Selma blinked rapidly. “I don’t remember any of that. Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I was out looking for you when you came stumbling out of the field. You were muddy, confused....”

Her mother blinked, then said, “No. No, I don’t remember that at all.”

“What
do
you remember, Mom?”

Selma took a deep breath, pressed her hands to her forehead. “I remember the ritual at Betty’s. I remember getting into the car to come home....”

“Was there mead?”

“Yes. Jean’s homemade honey mead. She gave me a bottle to bring home. I promised to save it till after the baby comes and toast her with it.”

“Did you drink any of the mead before you left Betty’s?” Lena asked.

“Just the usual sip during the blessing of the cakes and ale. You know.”

“Yes, I know.” The customary Wiccan circle closing included the sharing of a bite of food, often fruit or a baked item, and a sip of some beverage, usually wine or juice, to acknowledge the blessings of the earth. “So you didn’t drink any more than that? After you left or anything?”

Selma shook her head, her eyes vacant. “No, honey, I don’t drink to excess, you know that.” She frowned. “It’s odd, though, I don’t remember much after leaving Betty’s house. There’s a big empty hole in my memory, and my head feels like it’s stuffed with wet cotton.” Squeezing her eyes tight, she said, “And it’s pounding pretty good, too.”

“We’ll get you something for that. And I’m gonna call Doc, too, let him know you’re awake and everything.” Lena studied her mom’s face, looking hard for the telltale signs of a stroke or any other medical issue, but there were none. No lax facial features on one side, and she was speaking clearly and logically.

The phone,
she thought.
I never looked at the phone.
She had wiped it free of dirt and plugged it in to charge, then had gone to sleep before doing anything more.

Nurse Eloise was back, tapping on the door frame, even though the door was open. She had a tray in her hands, with a bowl of oatmeal, a tall glass of water and a cup of tea.

“Wow. You work fast,” Lena said.

“Instant oatmeal, two minutes in the microwave. She needs something in her stomach.” She moved closer, and her demeanor changed just a little bit. She seemed lighter, friendlier. “There now, Selma, how are you feeling?” Her voice was lighter, too.

This must be her bedside manner, Lena thought. Odd, how she turned it on like a light.

“My head is pounding, and I seem to have lost a chunk of time, but other than that...” Selma shrugged. “I’d rather have you fussing over Lena, though.”

The nurse slid a sideways look at Lena as she lowered the tray across Selma’s lap. As she bent over, a pendant fell from the neck of her white uniform, dangling over the bed. A quartz crystal point on the end of a long silver chain.

Selma grabbed it. “Oh, how pretty! It’s just like the one Bahru has.”

“Who or what is a Bahru?” Eloise asked, snatching the necklace and dropping it back inside her blouse.

Though her mother only laughed, Lena found herself shivering. Everyone in her dream had been wearing a crystal like that. What the hell?

“As for your daughter, I intend to offer my services, though Dr. Cartwright assures me she’ll refuse.”

“I’m gonna call Doc right now and let him know you’re awake,” Lena said. “Be right back, Mom.” She left her mother to enjoy her breakfast and the nurse to figure out what else she might need, and headed down the hall and into her own bedroom. She left her door open, listening for any sign of a problem, and located her mother’s phone on the nightstand where she had left it to charge last night. Quickly she turned it on, and checked the call log. Nothing of interest. Recent text messages—nothing there, either. The last one had gone out to Helen soon after Selma had left the house.
On my way. C U soon
.
Emails? Nothing near the time when she’d apparently blacked out.

She checked photos on a whim, not expecting to find a thing. But there were three of the same exact blurry, dark shot.

Squinting, Lena tried to decipher them. They’d been taken in the woods at night. There were people standing around a fire, but it was impossible to see who they were.

She supposed the shots could have been taken at some ritual her mother had attended, though unless last night had turned into something completely unexpected, they had to be from sometime earlier. Easy enough to check the time stamp.