Do You Believe in Magic? (9 page)

Read Do You Believe in Magic? Online

Authors: Ann Macela

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Magic, #Fantasy, #Paranormal, #Romance, #Contemporary

BOOK: Do You Believe in Magic?
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Being with his family would also take his mind off Francie for a little while. He still hadn’t come to terms with his reaction the previous evening. Maybe not thinking about it would allow the situation to percolate in his brain cells. Let his subconscious handle the puzzle. He had often used the method to solve problems in the past. Besides, to deal with Glori’s usual teasing, he had to pay attention or she’d get the best of him. As her older brother, he couldn’t allow that.
He pulled up to Daria’s home off Sunset Boulevard by Rice University and saw Gloriana’s dark green Mercedes convertible sitting in front. His younger sister drove like a bat out of hell, and Clay shook his head as he got out of his car, remembering the last time he had been so foolish as to let her drive him somewhere. Talk about a white-knuckle trip.
It was almost the end of September, but the temperatures remained high, and in Daria’s garden, the lush plantings still bloomed. Clay surveyed the grounds with a practiced eye as he approached the front porch. From the state of the plants, he had at least another month before Daria would be wheedling him to help Bent clean out the annuals.
“Hello, Zorro, Lolita,” he greeted the two cats sitting by the front steps.
“Mmrow,” answered Zorro, his large black body lounging insolently, the tip of his tail flicking. Lolita came to twine around Clay’s legs as he rang the doorbell. He reached down to pet her while he waited. “Yaaah,” the dainty Abyssinian said, arching her back to take full advantage of his caress.
John “Bent” Benthausen opened the door with a big smile for his brother-in-law. “Come on in. We’re back here.” The tall, auburn-haired man led the way to the kitchen.
“Hi!” Two green-eyed women greeted Clay as he walked in. They put down the cooking implements they had been using, and both gave him a hug at the same time.
“Hi, yourselves,” Clay said as he returned the hug. He leaned back and surveyed his two sisters. They looked so much alike, so like their mother, he thought again as he always did when seeing them together after the passage of time between visits. The only major differences were that Gloriana was a little taller and her dark hair much longer, past her shoulder blades, in fact, while Daria’s short curls danced whenever she shook her head.
“Something smells good,” Clay said, sniffing the air as he released them.
“Roast chicken,” Daria stated as the timer dinged. “And it’s time to baste.” She put on oven mitts and, opening the oven, pulled out the pot. First she poured sherry over the browning bird, then used a baster to suck up the drippings and squirt them over the chicken. “I’m trying a new recipe for stuffing,” she told Clay, “with apples and pecans and raisins. No bread.”
“But lots of sherry,” Bent interjected. “She soaked the raisins in the stuff.”
“Does Mother know about this?” Clay asked as he stole a piece of the tomato Gloriana was cutting for salad.
“She will as soon as I get home,” Gloriana said. “We concocted the recipe yesterday.”
“Sounds good.” Clay smiled a thank-you at Bent’s handing him a glass of wine. “So, how have you been, Glori? How’re the plants and your classes and all?”
“Fine. The farm’s doing well, the university is its usual self, and my botany classes are full,” Gloriana replied, as she scraped the tomatoes off the cutting board into the salad bowl. “I have a couple of very promising graduate students this year.”
“Didn’t I see your name in
W
2
? Some sort of letter to the editor about how to cast spells?”
“Oh, that was in response to an article by a theoretical mathematician who wants to reduce spell-casting to a strict formula. He claims casting never emerged from the Middle Ages. Shows how much he knows, stuck in his ivory tower. I attempted to set him right.”
“If anybody can do it, it’s you,” Clay laughed.
“I’m sure he’s one of those with no respect for our history or knowledge of practical conjuring. You know how these theory guys have their heads in the sky,” Gloriana stated as she put the salad in the refrigerator.
Daria interrupted. “Let’s take this discussion into the family room. The chicken needs to cook about a half an hour longer.” She picked up a tray of munchies and led the way.
The conversation over hors d’oeuvres and dinner covered Gloriana’s writings and other articles in
W
2
, The Witches and Warlocks Journal
; Bent’s reorganization of his finance department, sans criminals; Daria’s latest consulting work; and finally, Clay’s hacker investigation.
Daria brought up the latter subject as they finished dessert and coffee. “How’s Francie and the big sting?” she asked.
Clay noted the expression of conspiracy and glee on her face but couldn’t fathom what was behind it. Why such a look when talking about a hacker? “She’s fine. She’s being a big help. She’s still bothered about her friend, but she’s going ahead with the plan. The sting is progressing.”
“What are you talking about?” Gloriana interjected.
Clay told her the story of the hacker and the plan for catching him.
“And you’re pretending to date this Francie to get close to the hacker?” Gloriana asked.
“Sort of,” Clay answered, thinking that pretense was rapidly becoming reality.
“You ought to see her, Glori,” Daria said to her sister. “She’s about six feet tall, blond, and gorgeous. I’m sure it’s a real hardship for Clay.”
“Oh, really!” Glori grinned. “A real bombshell? Built like a proverbial brick . . . ?” She waved her hands in the classic hourglass shape.
“Yeah,” Daria smirked.
“All right, you two,” Clay grumbled as the two women laughed. God save him from little sisters.
“So, how are y’all getting along?” Daria persisted.
Her nonchalance could have floated a boat, it was so strong. Clay had seen her play the game before. It usually boded ill for him, and he raised his eyebrows as he asked pointedly, “Fine. Why?”
Daria laughed, more of a snicker really, and exclaimed, “He’s clueless!” She rested her forearms on the table, leaning toward her puzzled brother. “When you’re with her, does your blood seem to run faster and hotter? Can you feel yourself drowning in her eyes? Do you have the constant need to touch her? Do you think about her when you’re not with her? When you kiss her—and I’m sure you’ve kissed her by now—is it all you can do not to take it further, or at least as close as the nearest bed? Does she reciprocate your feelings?”
“Daria! Whatever is or is not between Francie and me is none of your business!” He never discussed any woman he was interested in with his sisters, and he wasn’t about to start now, even if Daria did hit every nail right on the head.
“Oh, Clay, you idiot. I was right. I told you after we met her. I’ll bet she’s your soul mate!” she retorted, still laughing.
“What?!? My s-, s- . . .” He couldn’t say the word. A cold zip of panic raced up his spine as his thought processes stalled. His magic center grew warmer, however.
“Soul mate. S-O-U-L M-A-T-E. The good old soulmate imperative is at it again. I just know it,” she crowed.
Clay sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face, partly to hide his expression from Daria and partly to jiggle his brain back to action. Was she right? Memories of the night before flooded his mind. Walking away from Francie was one of the hardest things he had ever done.
No, she couldn’t be, he denied to himself. He wasn’t ready to meet the woman who would become the love of his life. He did know he had to give his sister an answer and decided the best defense was offense.
“How did you arrive at this conclusion? You’ve only seen the woman once. This doesn’t make any sense, Daria. You’ve had soul mates on the brain ever since you and Bent got together. Just because you found yours in a nonpractitioner doesn’t mean that I will, too.” He tried to make his voice as stern and disbelieving as possible, but he could see it didn’t affect her. He ignored the itch behind his breastbone.
“I observed the two of you together at our meeting, remember? All of a sudden, you were both looking at each other so intently I’m surprised sparks didn’t shoot between you. She was nervous, and it wasn’t because of the subject of the discussion or because she’d done something wrong. She was definitely reacting to
you
. Furthermore, she’s not impervious to magic. She jumped when I kicked the spells up a notch. I know you saw that.”
“So what? A lot of nonpractitioners react that way,” he retaliated.
“You know,” Gloriana put in with an innocent tone matching Daria’s, “just the other day, Mother and Daddy were wondering when you and I were going to find our mates now that Daria’s found Bent.”
“I don’t need such nonsense from you, too,” Clay complained, pointing his finger at her. “Bent, give me some help here.” He extended his hand toward his brother-in-law.
“Hey, I’m just telling you what they were saying.” Gloriana carefully folded her napkin and shrugged at him, but her face displayed a gleeful smile.
Bent looked from one woman to the other. “Daria, give your brother a break. You know what it’s like, finding your soul mate and then getting used to the idea. That damned imperative can make it downright painful.” He rubbed his chest as if it still hurt.
Clay recalled the story of the imperative’s “persuasive” techniques it used on Bent and winced in sympathy.
“Clay teased both of us enough. You remember.” Daria assumed a smart-alecky voice. “How many soul mates does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Two and nobody cares about the lightbulb.” She went back to her normal tone while Gloriana laughed. “It’s time he got some of his own back,” Daria told her husband. “Well?” she asked Clay.
“No, I don’t think so,” he answered, but a sharp pain hit his solar plexus, as if he had been stabbed with a hot ice pick. He hid his grimace behind taking a drink of water.
Her eyebrows raised, Daria just sat there, looking at him.
“It could be,” he admitted, as memories of the kiss flooded his mind. His chest grew pleasantly warm.
He slumped in his chair. “Hell, I don’t know.” The ice pick jabbed him again. What the hell was going on with his stomach? Well, worry about that later, he told himself. This business Daria was talking about was much more serious.
He waved his hand in surrender. “Yeah, all right, it might be.” The pain ceased, and the warmth returned, accompanied by a tingle. It felt like his magic center was grinning.
He replayed the memories of last night and the night before. Those kisses, those leave-you-weak-and-hurting kisses, those can’t-get-enough-of-her kisses. If Francie was his mate, then no wonder she’d affected him the way she did, more than any other woman. No wonder he had so much trouble sleeping. All he could think of was her. “God, if this is what you went through, I apologize for all the teasing.”
Bent chuckled. “And it only gets better—or worse, before it gets better.”
“Thanks a lot,” Clay muttered. “You’re a big help.”
“Now comes the real question.” Daria sobered and looked him straight in the eye. “When are you going to tell her about us, what we are?”
The deal he had made with Francie came back to him:
No camouflage, no artificial barriers. Only the truth.
Now he knew the source of the idea and his notion last night of telling her about his wizardry—the imperative’s handiwork. “You’re right. I owe it to her to tell her all about practitioners and soul mates before . . .”
“Before you’re irrevocably bonded,” Daria finished for him.
Clay nodded. “She has to know what she’s getting into, doesn’t she? I need to do the same thing you did with Bent, don’t I? Lay it all out for Francie.”
“I concur,” Bent said as Daria nodded. “If you’re feeling the way about Francie like I was about Daria, with your control hanging by a thread, the sooner the better.”
“Thanks for the advice, I guess.” Clay rubbed his hand over his face. “I need to think about this before I do anything. I’m still not totally convinced she’s the one. We’ve only been out twice. I hardly know the woman.” He thought his last sentence sounded hollow, even to himself. His center gave a flutter, as if it was laughing at him.
“Let us know what happens,” Daria said. “But first, let’s clear the table. Glori, shouldn’t you be hitting the road if you want to get home by nine o’clock?”
“As much as I hate to leave just when the discussion’s getting good, you’re right,” Gloriana said. “But y’all have to keep me posted. Shall I mention any of this to our parents?”
“Glori, if you have any regard for me at all, please don’t say anything to Mother or Dad,” Clay pleaded. “I don’t need
them
on my back.”
“Okay, but it will cost you, and I’m not making any promises, either. You know how Mother seems to pull secrets out of us as easily as she makes up healing potions.”
“Only too well,” Clay said with a grimace.
There was a flurry of activity as the foursome cleared the table, said good-bye to Gloriana, and watched her drive away. Clay and Bent helped with the dishes and talked sports. Daria did not bring up Francie or soul mates again.

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