Halfway Hexed (9 page)

“Black magic, for the love of Hershey. I can’t leave him alone for one minute,” I murmured.

When I got inside Bryn was rinsing his arms under cold water. There were dozens of tiny puncture wounds in the middle of his forearms, and the skin was raised and red around them, like burns.

“Are those constellations?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“You pricked your skin? Made a tattoo for the stars to send down their light?”

He nodded.

“Did it hurt?”

“Not as much as drawing power with bright magic does. Black magic is less painful. That’s why a lot of people turn to it when they need to draw more than they should.”

“But it feels wrong, doesn’t it? After it’s inside you?”

“It feels different,” he said, turning off the water.

“It feels wrong,” I repeated firmly.

He moved so that he stood in front of me, his hands on the counter on either side of me. The magic didn’t sting as much as it had at first. It was more like fingernails trailing along my skin, hard enough to leave a mark.

“Well, let’s hope that I’m never on the brink of death again and forced to sacrifice all the magic that feels right to you,” he said.

Bryn had gotten poisoned saving my life. “I’m sorry about that,” I said.

“I’m not. It was worth it.”

Even under the influence of black magic, his charm was as seductive as ever.

I slipped my arms around his neck and hugged him. The magic wrapped around us, thick and heavy. It was hard to breathe at first, but then I got used to the feeling. I had some vague idea that I could fixthings without really knowing how. It was instinctive, like everything bet ween Bryn and me.

“Tamara—” His voice was low and smooth. “Be careful.”

I ignored the warning. Instead, I pressed my lips to his collarbone and drew the darkness, like smoke into my lungs. It was damp and cold and made me cough.

He snaked a hand up to my hair and drew my head back. Then he kissed me, and it consumed us, pushing the natural world away. I tried to draw the magic out of him, but he didn’t let me. Not even a sliver.

A terrible pain in my leg finally made me jerk back. I looked down at the bloody scratch where Mercutio’s claw had torn my jeans.

“Merc!” I snapped.

Bryn glanced down and spoke to Mercutio in Gaelic.

“What did you say?” I asked, taking a damp washcloth to clean the scratch.

“That’s between him and me.”

Merc licked my leg and rubbed his head against my arm. I petted him. “I don’t think Merc cares for black magic.”

“I think you’re right.”

The wall phone rang, and Bryn strolled over to it. He stared at me as he answered it.

“What’s up?” He listened for a few moments and then said, “Sure, let her through.”

“Jenna Reitgarten?” I asked.

“No.”

Bryn retrieved a white button-down shirt from the seat of a chair. He slipped it on and began buttoning as I followed him to the foyer. He glanced at my suitcase.

“You pick now to move in?”

“People are trying to kidnap me.”

“Can’t really blame them for that,” he said with a sexy smirk. “I’ve had the same temptation myself.”

“Very funny.”

His blue-gray eyes darkened, making me realize that he wasn’t totally kidding.

I gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He studied me intently. “I don’t like waiting for you to turn up. But you are always worth the wait.”

I blushed, having to bite my tongue to keep from kissing him with it. “Um, that’s enough flirting.”

“You’re right. No point starting something when someone’s going to interrupt us. I’ll put your suitcase upstairs in my room. We can finish this conversation later.”

He reached for the handle, but I scowled at him and grabbed it, rolling it out of his reach. “I’ll stay in the downstairs guest room!”

“Better to sleep under the stars,” he countered. “With me.”

Magic and lust and all kinds of other dangerous energy undulated from his body to mine, curling around me like smoke, warming me to the core. For several long moments, I stared at him, trapped by what I wanted to do, but knew I shouldn’t.

I sucked in a cool breath. “Cut that out. That’s not fair.” I shuddered, pulling back from the brink of launching myself into his arms. I narrowed my eyes. “You see,” I said, snapping my fingers. “You see what happens when you get buzzed on black magic?”

“Yes, I see,” he said, still smiling.

I rushed to the downstairs bedroom that I’d slept in a couple times before when I’d been too wounded, poisoned, or exhausted to make it home. Boy, Bryn and I had a strange relationship.

I heard the doorbell and threw my suitcase into the room and shut the door. Then I hurried back down the hall, stopping at the end, in a spot where I wouldn’t be easily seen.

Bryn opened the door, and there was a young woman in a tailored navy blue suit standing on the threshold. Caramel-colored hair and peaches-and-cream skin. She had the kind of fresh, pretty face you’d see in a soap ad, but the clothes were all business. I waited for her to introduce herself, but instead Bryn spoke.

“Hello, Gwen. You know, I didn’t think you could possibly be as beautiful as I remembered, but it turns out you are.”

I froze, a horrible knot of jealousy twisting inside me.

She smiled a lovely supermodel smile at him. “Hello, Bryn,” she said in a perfect British accent. She studied his face for a moment and then touched her thumb to his lid just under his left eye. She clucked her tongue. “That color’s different. What wicked things have you been up to?”

I wanted to scratch her eyes out.

He ignored her question, asking instead, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for the investigation.”

His eyes widened for a moment in surprise. “You’re here to investigate me,” he said and frowned. “You’re part of Barrett’s entourage?”

“I’m training under the Winterhawk. I’m here as a Conclave junior operative.”

“Congratulations.” The chill in his voice made her blush, and I shifted uncomfortably.

“For heaven’s sake, you mustn’t take this personally,” she said.

“Since you’re here officially, I should introduce you,” he said, calmly turning toward me. He waved, and I stepped out from around the corner.

Gwen’s perfectly arched brows rose, and her hand fell away from his face. “Well, it seems it’s my turn to be surprised. The notorious Miss Trask, I presume. She ought not to be here, Bryn. Badly done,” she said, but she held out her hand to me.

A part of me wanted to sock her, but good manners left me no choice but to shake her perfectly manicured hand.

“You’ve got quite a good grip,” she said.

“If you pushed power into her palm and are surprised that she didn’t pull back or flinch, it’s because she didn’t feel it,” Bryn said. He was right. Bryn’s was the only magic I ever felt. I was tempted to tell her all about our magical synergy, but I managed to hold my tongue.

“Didn’t feel it,” Gwen echoed. “We had heard there was an impairment. I wasn’t sure how accurate the account was.” She gave me an appraising look. “The hair’s every bit as red as reported. So unlucky, that.”

I fumed.

“Depends on where one’s from. Red hair isn’t considered the thing in England, but in Ireland there’s nothing luckier.”

I heard the trace of his Irish accent when he spoke, and I guessed she did, too, because she pursed her lips into a tight white line. The corners of my mouth turned up in a small smile.

“Well, if she’s such a lucky charm, you won’t need any advice from me.” She turned on her heel and with crisp steps and military posture walked to a silver Jaguar that was parked in the drive.

Bryn sighed and watched her drive to the gate before he closed the door.

I folded my arms across my chest. “She’s an ex-girlfriend?”

He nodded.

“And now part of the Conclave,” I said.

“She’s only the second woman ever inducted.”

“So she’s a powerful witch?”

He nodded.

“More powerful than you?”

“No.”

“Does she know that?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Because didn’t you say that John Barrett’s petitioned to have your wizard class raised above four? So they can prosecute you differently for any rules you break?”

He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Christ,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “When you’ve got secrets, the only thing more dangerous than a whole mess of tequila shots is pillow talk.”

Chapter 10

I took the locket from around my neck with trembling fingers. I’d been its guardian for months, and I didn’t want to part with it—with Edie.

Normally, Momma and Aunt Mel shared the locket, but when Momma left to find her lost love, she’d left it with Aunt Mel. And when Aunt Mel had gone to look for Momma, she’d left the locket with me. I wondered if ghosts couldn’t pass into the faery realm. Was that why they’d had to leave Edie behind? Whatever the reason, I’d liked having her to myself. Edie had irresistible charisma. Even when she made cutting remarks or made life difficult, I’d never wanted her to stop coming to see me.

I bent my head and kissed the locket. “Be safe, and come home soon,” I whispered. I tied the ribbons carefully, then closed my hands around it. “Edie, the ties will keep you inside the locket. The ties will keep you at home in the locket.” I let my lids drift down and repeated the incantation over and over.

When I opened my eyes, my cupped hands were resting on my lap with the locket warm and safe within them. I felt calm. She would get to Melanie okay.

Feeling reassured, I went to the post office and mailed her to London. When I got home, I followed the smell of coffee and found Bryn sitting at the kitchen table, drinking freshly brewed French Roast. I poured myself a cup.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, taking out a frying pan and stainless steel bowl.

Bryn nodded.

“So who’s the Winterhawk?” I asked, setting flour, eggs, and milk on the granite countertop.

“You know your way around my kitchen,” he said with a smile.

“Well, I did make all those desserts for the party you didn’t have last week.” I cracked eggs into the bowl. “Winterhawk?”

“Mrs. Thornton,” Bryn said. “Her personal life and background are murky. The rumor is that she was an assassin in the sixties and seventies, but the Conclave blocked her entry into their ranks for years. In 1980, she uncovered a plot. A powerful Croatian vampire coven planned to kill Rutherford—he was president of the WorldAssociation of Magic then.”

I got out a small saucepan.

“She led a day raid and slaughtered the vampires, but even after she saved his life, Rutherford didn’t recommend Mrs. Thornton for promotion into the Conclave. It was Barrett who supported her induction. She’s semiretired now, but whenever he travels to potentially dangerous political meetings, she goes with him, overseeing security.” Bryn smiled. “And he brought her to Duvall with him. We should be flattered.”

“That’s just what I always wanted growingup—to make WAM’s Highest Threat to National Security List,” I said and snagged a bottle of Grand Marnier from the bar.

Bryn ran a hand through his glossy black hair. “Don’t worry. The worst that can happen is they’ll lock us up for a couple decades.”

“Is that all?” I swallowed hard, trying to keep my mind on food, which I always find so much more appetizing than jail.

I made crepes with strawberries and a cream liqueur sauce for breakfast. Probably it was too early in the day for a hundred-proof dessert, but who knew what was going to happen to us. I planned to treat every meal like it might be our last.

“Delicious,” Bryn said when he’d swallowed the last berry. “You’re a culinary genius.”

“Thanks, candylegger,” I said, making him laugh. Edie had called him that once. It had been a backhanded compliment, some twenties slang about him being too charming to trust. Turned out she was right since he’d done a spell that blocked her from seeing me.

“How is the family ghost? Still dripping venom from her phantom fangs?” he asked.

I clucked my tongue. “She doesn’t have fangs.”

“That you know about,” he said, getting up and putting his dish in the sink.

“She’s going on a trip.”

“Good for her. Tell her she should include a tour of the world’s cemeteries. Bangkok to Belfast. Shouldn’t take her less than a hundred and twenty years if she takes her time.”

I smiled. “You’re terrible.”

“Am I?” He leaned close and stole a kiss. While I caught my breath afterward, he emptied the pocket of his black bathrobe onto the table, looking for something. When he pulled out a small silver flask, he didn’t set it down. Instead he uncapped it and held it out to me.

“I made you something.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know how bad the interrogation will get. This is a precaution in case they try to drug us. A serum that protects against mind-altering potions. It’ll last about twelve hours.”

I drank some. It tasted like onions mixed with dishwashing soap. I made a face and forced it down. So much for only consuming scrumptious stuff during the Conclave’s visit. I gagged a little, while he drank the rest of the liquid in the flask and glanced at the clock. Then he picked up a pill from the table. It was about half the size of an M&M.