My Merlin Awakening (9 page)

“We’re wasting time.” Vane waved his hand. The crushed Land Rover and SUV parted. Blake blinked up from where he sat with a groggy Gia. Vane strode past them toward the soccer-sized field that stretched across the square.

Grey followed him.

Beside me, Matt cursed.

“Blake, stay with Gia,” he commanded. “Will you be able to clean this mess before anyone sees?”

Blake answered affirmatively.

The other wizards, the guardians, came running as soon as they saw Vane leaving.

Matt told them. “One guardian stays with Blake. I want the others to follow me.”

Ahead of us, Vane and Grey crossed into the field. Matt, three guardians, and I ran after them.

“Where are we going?” Matt demanded when we caught up to Vane.

“Where were you exactly when the gargoyles contacted you?”

Matt gave him an impatient look. “Holland.”

“Holland,” Vane repeated. “Rotterdam, Holland?”

Matt’s expression blanked. “Delfthaven, actually.”

I rolled my eyes. “What are you getting at, Vane?”

“You don’t know? I thought you liked history,” Vane chortled.

I ground my teeth. “But obviously you do, so why don’t you tell us?”

We crossed the field and out of the Salem Commons. Vane led us past a hotel with bright sconces. I’d been there not too long ago for a wedding reception. In the ballroom, I’d sat by an antique wood fireplace in chairs that looked like they could’ve been stolen from Ben Franklin’s house. Salty ocean air snuck around the corners of the tight buildings. The town of Salem sat off the edge of Massachusetts Bay and had been a huge seaport at one time.

Vane clucked his tongue. “Sad education you’re getting these days. Two ships left from Southampton, England in 1620. They were on a long voyage to a new world. Do you at least know this part?”

“The
Mayflower
and the
Speedwell
,” I said.

“Yes, but only one ship made it here. The
Speedwell
had a leak and didn’t make it past Dartmouth, England. Some passengers transferred to the
Mayflower,
some stayed in England, and some went back to Holland.”

“The
Speedwell
left from Delfthaven.”

Vane wagged his eyebrows. “Coincidence? I think not. My brother has been tracing the pilgrims, but why? Was it really the gargoyles who suggested meeting here or were you already on your way?”

Matt’s cheeks puffed a bit. I could sympathize. Vane did excel at pushing buttons. I glanced at Vane and had to fight a smile. He wore a devastatingly smug expression at having one-upped his brother.

Matt stared at the simple arches on the brownstone buildings. The spaces between them became wider, the closer we got to the wharf. “I’ve come full circle, haven’t I? Keltoi were among the pilgrims. It was an oppressive time in England and many of our treasures were divided among those traveling to the New World and given to safeguard.”

The Keltoi were what the wizards called themselves.

“Pilgrims. As in Plymouth? That’s almost two hours from here,” I said.

Matt shook his head. “No, I found out in Holland that more Keltoi came later with the Puritans to Boston; and some Keltoi left the pilgrims at Plymouth and joined their brethren among the Puritans. Of course, as you know, the Keltoi were famously discovered and persecuted. Some, among other innocents, died. The ones who escaped scattered. Many changed their names. I do not know how I’m going to trace them; that’s where I’m hoping Rourke has some answers.”

“The Salem witch trials,” I said, starting to connect the dots.

Vane swung his sword in a practice thrust. “Indeed, Ryan’s research for her exhibit turned up quite a few known Keltoi names—”

“I’m so glad,” I said with attitude.

Vane ignored me. “The witches started panicking when the trials started, but they kept close to the two magistrates.”

Matt nodded. “To help those accused.”

“Some great help they were,” I muttered.

Vane walked us past the maritime museum. In the dark, white snow glistened along the open spaces on the wharf. “To help or hide themselves. It hardly matters now. However, what
is
interesting is that I found a Keltoi was related to one of the magistrates. The wizard was never accused and the families stayed close for years. Later, a descendant of the magistrate wrote a most interesting story. In his novel, he writes about a house built by a man who was persecuted for being a wizard. In reality, the house still stands today.”

I finally realized where we were going.

Vane continued, “The house is said to be haunted. Peculiar noises. Odd drafts. Ghosts… all knocking about inside a building with one of the most unusual architectures in the country. If I am correct, what is hidden there will never be found by a regular.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

Matt explained, “A spell will last for centuries if it has a way to keep itself energized. In this case, by taking energy from any visitors to the house. The cold draft one feels is probably the spell draining them.” He gave Vane a shrewd look. “If you’ve figured out this much, you must have tried to open the message.”

Vane glanced at me. “I have been a bit preoccupied.”

Matt snorted. “You’re worried it will explode on you. If the spell has been around for so long, it will be volatile.”

The smell of food hit our nostrils. A pub topped with the weathervane of a fat pig lit the wharf. Laughing people drank out of pints and snacked. Grey and Vane gave the place a longing look. I pinched Vane.

Vane’s eyes turned to me, pupils still dilated from adrenaline. “Saucy girls get spanked.”

In the dark, I blushed deep red. Matt let out a sound of disgust.

Vane tore his eyes away. “The gargoyles know about it, but I wager they have not figured out how to unlock it.”

We passed the pub and the scene changed. Even in the shadows, the quaint street of pristine trees and shrubs looked deceptively serene. It led up to a tall, grey mansion with large, withered elm trees guarding the front. Open sky and the sound of endless water served as the backdrop to the battered-looking house. The home should have beckoned us forward, but we stood unmoving at its entrance. Wind screamed across the snow-decorated lawn and whistled through the large garden half-hidden at in the rear.

A light flickered high up in the third story of the square-paned dormer windows where nothing but darkness should have been. I blinked and the light disappeared.

We’d come to the only true haunted place in Salem—the House of the Seven Gables.

***

Grey made a face. “You really want to go in there?”

The seven pointed gables, wooden triangles crowned with finials, stood aloft like lonely beacons at various points spread out over the roof. Three thick, brick chimneys protruded from behind the gables. Snow sat in the crevices of the roof. A path had been cleared to the framed entrance with cranberry glass sidelights. The house had been built sometime in the late 1600s, just before the witch trials, and the air around it still evoked the turbulence of that time.

We all jumped when a loud crash sounded from inside.

Vane hoisted his sword. “Gargoyles.”

We trod through snow up the short walkway to the entrance. Outside, a sign told us tours had ended hours ago. Garlands trimmed with red holly lined the doors and windows. Christmas was over long ago, but it was nice to see a bit of festivity left over. By now, most everyone’s cheer had been bled away by the dreary relentlessness of winter.

Vane started to march up to the entrance.

Matt stopped him. “We should split up.”

“I’ll take the front,” Vane said.

“I’ll go with you,” Grey volunteered.

“If there’s a garden, there’s a backdoor,” Matt said to the guardians.

The three guardians nodded and hurried away. To the right of the entrance, just off the sidewalk, a small door stood. Matt motioned me toward it. “We’ll go this way. It’s more likely to be empty.”

I made a face. “I can take care of myself.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Vane looked at Matt. “Keep her out of trouble.”

Matt nodded. Vane and Grey crossed to the entrance.

“You don’t need to baby me,” I said.

“Vane shouldn’t have brought you at all. You need more training.”

“I’ve had training,” I said.

“Then, you need time,” Matt replied. “You ran away, Ryan.”

He walked to the small door. Fuming, I stared after him. Even after all I’d done, they still saw me as five-foot-nothing blonde flower. I stalked to the door. “I went home to recover not to run away.”

“That is what you say.” Matt waved a hand and the wooden door creaked open. “But not how you really feel.”

I made a face. Why did he have to understand me so well? He and Vane. Both managed to get under my skin so easily. It was annoying. We entered a small room, straight out of slasher movie. Matt’s hand glowed a faint blue, giving us enough light to look around. A medley of innocuous scented candles and soaps had been laid out in neat rows on shelves all around the small space.

“The hallway.” Matt pointed to the opposite end of the room and started walking to it.

“Strange place for a candleshop,” I muttered, following him. Black blobs of dark matter popped in, out, and around us. Anyone of them could have hidden the fanged face of a bloodthirsty gargoyle.

Every nerve on end, I walked straight into a shelf. Matt stopped my fall by jerking me up by my shirt with one hand. I slammed into his chest. With his other hand, he righted the wobbling shelf. Soaps and bottles floated in mid-air. The faint aura of blue magic sparkled in low light.

My face mashed against his ribs. I inhaled a breath of amber and earth, the smell of morning dew dripping on tender leaves across a green lawn.

Images flooded into my mind.

Matt and I lay on the floor, kissing like there would be no tomorrow. Both naked. His hands skimmed across the bare skin of my chest. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer
—

As quickly as the images had flashed, they stopped.

It took me a second to center myself back in the scent shop. I realized I was panting. Heat weakened my bones, forcing me to hold even tighter onto Matt.

He let out a choked sound.

In the dark, I whispered, “Matt.”

CHAPTER 5 - NYMPH’S LURE

CHAPTER 5
NYMPH’S LURE

“I’m sorry.”

“Aren’t you always?”
I thought back.

Carefully, I pushed away from him.

The images lingered in my mind. From his tone, I could tell he was embarrassed. With another blue shimmer of magic, Matt returned the floating soaps and bottles to the shelf. I stared at him. He’d already chosen his path and it didn’t include me.

So had I.
Vane.

Then, why did my heart still race?

Matt put a finger to his mouth. The ceiling creaked under the weight of someone walking above us. I took a step and winced as glass burst under my boot heels. Just behind me, another shelf had been knocked over. An array of fine little soaps and bottles lay scattered around the floor. The sinister shadows of the storeroom closed in and I expected a gargoyle to leap out at me at any second. My stomach knotted. I wished I had Excalibur.

Whether it was our connection through the amulet, or he just sensed my nervousness, Matt touched my shoulder, a warm hand easing the cold given off the barren room. He drew out a knife and gave it to me. It shimmered with a faint blue glimmer that always preceded Matt’s magic and the blade lengthened into a sword. Excalibur’s hilt gleamed under a ray of moonlight that penetrated through a small window.

“You actually brought it?”
I thought to him.

“I brought Excalibur to Boston for this in the first place.”
He headed out of the room. We crossed what looked like a kitchen to a narrow hallway.