Magician's Muse

Linda Joy Singleton
lives in northern California. She has two grown children and a wonderfully supportive husband who loves to travel with her in search of unusual stories.

She is the author of more than thirty books, including the The Seer series, the Dead Girl series, and the Strange Encounters series (all from Llewellyn/Flux). She is also the author of the Regeneration, My Sister the Ghost, and Cheer Squad series. Visit her online at www.LindaJoySingleton.com

Woodbury, Minnesota

Magician’s Muse
© 2010 by Linda Joy Singleton.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover models used for illustrative purposes only and may not endorse or represent the book’s subject.

First e-book edition © 2010

E-book ISBN: 9780738727493

Cover design and wand illustration by Lisa Novak

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Manufactured in the United States of America

Thanks to my agent,
Jennifer Laughran

And my editors,
Brian Farrey and Sandy Sullivan

Also to writer-friend-sister,
Kate Emburg

All that may come to my knowledge in the exercise of my
profession or in daily commerce with men,
which ought not to be spread abroad,
I will keep secret and will never reveal.

… a modern Magician’s Oath

The phone was going to ring.

I knew this for a fact—the way you see dark clouds in the sky and know it’s going to rain. Premonitions were no big deal to me. But the flash of fear that came with this sudden knowing was scary. Someone was going to call and I wouldn’t like what they told me. It could change my life. Not in a good way.

My cell phone sat on my desk beside my keyboard. Only a few feet away. But I didn’t move from my bed, where I sat cross-legged in a festive jumble of wrapping paper, tape, and ribbons. Seconds ago I’d been humming to my holiday playlist while transforming gift-wrap into
art
with glitter, foil paper, and miniature golden angels. Now my holiday spirit was dead.

Usually my psychic vibes clued me in on who was calling and I often made a game of caller-guessing. I tried to guess now; closing my eyes to concentrate, I picked up a masculine vibe. Someone close to my age and to my heart. Immediately I thought of Dominic. Oh no, please, not him! Ever since I broke up with my last boyfriend, things had been made of awesome with Dominic. We talked endlessly about hopes, dreams, and our future together. But what if something bad had happened to him?

My cell phone rang.

I jumped, knocking a roll of wrapping paper onto the floor. Then I stiffened like a statue, cold and frozen inside, and couldn’t bring myself to answer.

Finally by the fifth ring, I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed the phone and flipped it open—stunned to read the Caller I.D.

Josh DeMarco.
My ex-boyfriend.

But when I answered the call, it wasn’t Josh. It was his mother.

“Sabine?” Mrs. DeMarco asked in an odd, anxious voice. “Are you there?”

“Yeah,” I managed, through my surprise. My phone vibes usually weren’t this far off.

“Sorry to call you so early,” she told me.

“No problem. I’m an early riser.” A million questions slammed into my head but I focused on the most important one. “Um … how is Josh?”

“I—I don’t know.” She spoke so softly, her voice edged in sadness. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

“What do you mean? I haven’t seen him at school lately and heard he was out sick with a bad virus.” The timing of his virus and our breakup was too coincidental; I’d suspected he was faking an illness to avoid seeing me. I mean, our breakup had been
that
bad. Worse than bad—apocalyptic.

“You’re into the occult, the work of the devil,” he’d accused me after catching me summoning ghosts at a séance. “I can never forgive that.”

That was over three weeks ago. When Josh walked out that day, I knew it was really over for us. I should have felt sad … but I didn’t. Instead I was relieved, and hopeful that we’d both be happier now. Josh would hook up with a nice normal girl who applauded his magic tricks and didn’t see ghosts or have telepathic conversations with her spirit guide. And finally, I was free to give my heart to Dominic.

Still, our break-up left me with an unfinished feeling, like when you walk out of a movie before the final scene. I wanted to explain to Josh that being psychic was an important part of me and had nothing to do with black magic. But he hadn’t returned any of my messages.

And now his mother was calling …

“Josh isn’t sick—at least I hope not. He’s … he’s—” Mrs. DeMarco cut off with a sob. “Gone.”

“Gone?” I tensed. “For how long?”

“Over a week. He left a note telling us not to worry, but there’s no word from him and I—” Her voice broke. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What about the police?”

“They wouldn’t even put out one of those missing kids alerts for him because he left a note. They say he’s a runaway.”

“Not Josh. He’s one of the most responsible, reliable people I know.”

“That’s what I told the police. But even my husband wants to wait for Josh to come home on his own. But what if he’s hurt or sick and needs help? I’ve waited long enough. I have to try to find him, so I’m calling his friends.”

As I wondered if Josh’s disappearance could somehow be my fault, I realized there was silence on Mrs. DeMarco’s end. Thinking I’d lost the connection—and feeling a teensy bit glad to bring this awkward conversation to an end—I was about to hang up when Mrs. DeMarco suddenly blurted out, “I—I understand you and Josh broke up.”

“Uh, yeah,” I replied cautiously. How much did she know? Had Josh told his mother I worshipped the devil and practiced black magic? I knew, from past experience, that some people weren’t cool with paranormal stuff.

“He didn’t say why,” Josh’s mother replied. “I realize this is none of my business, but was he upset when you broke up? Upset enough to … to hurt himself, or—”

“Oh my god, no! Josh would never do anything like that,” I insisted. Josh has been upset, all right, but he wasn’t suicidal. Especially since he’d been the one to dump me, not the other way around. Yet why did I feel so guilty?

“If you have any information at all, you must tell me,” Josh’s mother said firmly, almost as if she were the psychic one. “Even if things between you and my son ended badly, I know that deep down, you still care about him.”

“I swear I’d tell you if I knew anything.”

“You may know more than you realize. Would you come over so we can talk in person?”

“You mean …
now
?”

“If you don’t mind. Besides, it’ll do Horse good to see you. That impossible dog won’t eat since Josh left. I’ve tried four vets and none of them have helped. Horse is always so excited to see you. Maybe you can convince him to eat.”

“He’s a great dog,” I admitted. “I’ve missed him.”

“So you’ll come over right away?” she asked hopefully.

“Well … okay.” A thought came to me. “I have this friend who is really amazing with animals and might be able to help Horse. Is it okay if I bring him?”

“Of course. Is he a vet?”

“No. But he understands animals so well that you’d think he was actually talking to them.”

Then I hung up, and went to find Dominic.

* * *

It was an unusually frigid morning for northern California, wintry breaths of air puffing across the slate-blue sky and frost sparkling in ice crystals on fences, trees, and vehicles, transforming our rundown farmhouse into a Christmas card scene. Even my grandmother’s dented secondhand sedan glimmered like a holiday gift.

I wrapped a jacket over my sweatshirt as I stepped onto the porch. The screen door banged behind me, not quite shutting, so I reached back to close it securely. My footsteps crunched on frosty weeds as I crossed the yard and I held out my arms for balance so I wouldn’t slip and fall, which would be humiliating if anyone was around to see. But there were only horses, cows, geese, and chickens. Even my cat Lilybelle wasn’t spying from the porch rail as usual, but content to stay inside by the wood stove.

Dominic’s truck was parked in its spot on the side of the barn. Its frosted windows reminded me of a scary-wonderful night when we’d been stranded in a snowstorm, huddling inside the truck for warmth. It was one of those pivotal life moments when everything was suddenly as clear as the sun breaking through gray clouds. And I knew that Dominic was the one for me … and Josh wasn’t.

Since then I’d been smiling a lot.

It was hard to believe it had only been a few months since Dominic had come to live and work on my grandmother’s farm, accompanied by his falcon Dagger and shrouded in mystery. It was loathing at first sight for me. Dominic was rude, and I resented how my grandmother treated him like a long-lost son rather than an employee. He messed with my emotions, which complicated my relationship with Josh—who was so perfect that I was flattered he’d chosen me for a girlfriend. Dominic was the opposite of perfect, and so damn secretive I still wasn’t sure about his last name. But he was like a sliver under my skin that I couldn’t ignore. And he won me over with his kindness to animals, unconditional loyalty to Nona, and quiet interest in literature.

He kissed great, too.

Dominic’s supernatural connection to animals was only one of the reasons I sought him out now. The other reasons were completely personal and included thoughts that made my cheeks burn. Visualizing his gentle, rugged face, and imagining the rough-yet-soft touch of his hands, sent my emotions rocketing.

He lived in the barn loft, which sounded primitive until you stepped into the spacious, gleaming, wood-floored room with its large picture windows, high wood-beamed ceiling, antique furniture, bathroom, and kitchenette. Nona called the rustic décor “pioneer modern.” The loft had originally been used by her third (or fourth?) husband as an artist’s studio. The paint smells had long faded, and I couldn’t imagine anyone other than Dominic living here.

I climbed the steps leading up to the loft and tapped on the door. When I called Dominic’s name, there was no answer or sound of footsteps. I turned the knob and stepped inside. The room was empty—even the wooden pedestal by the window where Dagger usually perched.

“Dominic?” I called, in the direction of the bathroom.

The door was cracked open and I listened for sounds of running water in case he was showering. But there was silence. So I peeked inside the bathroom, misty warmth enveloping me. A damp towel was draped over the shower door, evidence that Dominic had recently been here. And I got this mental image of Dominic wearing nothing but a towel, smiling at me in a way that could lead … well, somewhere I wasn’t ready for yet. We’d agreed to take things slowly, to just enjoy being together.

Guessing he’d gotten up early to tend the livestock, I left the loft and checked the out-buildings and animal pens, even the stinky pig enclosure. Still no sign of Dominic. I was starting to worry until I caught a flash of movement far away, at the border of my grandmother’s property where dense woods sprawled for acres.

A horseback rider.

I recognized Dominic’s muscular shoulders and sandy-brown hair, and the comfortable-yet-totally-in-control way he sat a saddle. With an admiring sigh, I leaned against a fence rail, watching.

Dominic rode Rio, the youngest of my grandmother’s horses, a dusky-brown, six-year-old Arabian gelding. They galloped with such natural grace, as if man and horse were one being. Their stride quickened—rising and falling, flying across the hard dirt pasture with dust puffing behind them like dark smoke. Although I was used to Dominic’s uncanny skill with animals, I was awed all over again. Just like Dominic connected psychically with animals, we’d connected, too, and he seemed to understand me better than anyone ever had. I wanted to know more about him, too, but he’d had a violent childhood and was reluctant to talk about his past.

He was too far away right now for eye contact, but I sensed the instant he became aware of me. Just like that, he knew I was watching and I knew he knew. He clasped the reins in one hand and waved with the other. Then he spun the horse in a slow, graceful arc—showing off. Laughing, I applauded, and climbed high on the fence to wave back.

Rider and horse galloped toward me, closer and closer until I could see Dominic’s grin. He leaned over to say something to Rio, then the horse flicked its tail and pranced to a smooth stop a few yards from where I waited at the fence.

“Hey,” Dominic said in his usual short-on-words way. It used to annoy me, but now I could read between the lines.

“I need to talk to you,” I told him.

“Sure.” He patted the horse but his gaze stayed with me. “Wait while I tend to Rio.”

I slipped down off the fence, admiring Dominic’s gentle way of murmuring to the horse as he unfastened the bridle and slipped off the saddle. I couldn’t hear what he was saying as he rubbed down Rio’s sweaty back, but obviously Rio understood, because he swished his brown tail as if offering thanks.

Only after Dominic had given Rio a bucket of oats and led him to a trough of water did he finally return to me.

“Sabine,” he said, clasping my hands in his calloused palms and pulling me close.

It was so natural, effortless, and I was a perfect fit in his arms, as if we’d been together in past lives. He lifted my chin with a gentle touch of his thumb, then whispered my name again as he tilted my face to meet his. As his lips caressed mine, the world seemed to stop. Sounds and worries faded away until I was only aware of Dominic … and then reality came rushing back.