The Magic's in the Music (Magic Series Book 5) (3 page)

Didn’t matter. He scraped up the sheet music, wadded it into a ball, and tossed it vaguely in the direction of the wastebasket. Nobody wrote music except on a computer anymore. His flute leaned at the corner of the desk. Why was it here? All his other instruments were up in the music room with the door firmly shut. He couldn’t bear to even touch it. He’d ask Jane to move it up with the others. He rubbed his temples. The pull of the flute was palpable. He could hear its pure tones trilling, accompanied by the drumbeat of his headache. Once it had been his constant companion, handy in case some of the notes flying around in his head had to be tried out, played. He pulled away from the lure of the flute, his breath shallow, anger welling up inside. Not for him. Not anymore. It was all gone, along with the life he’d known. Not fair. Not any of it. Before he knew it, he’d punched the wall behind the desk. A small, framed portrait of Beethoven clattered to the floor, glass shattering. The plaster bore a spider web of accusation.

Lan tried to get hold of himself, reel in the anger. Like a writhing mass of worms, it was hard to get back in the can these days. Chest heaving, he put one hand on each side of the doorframe above his head and just tried to breathe. He hated these episodes where he spun out of control. What he needed was a drink.

It was all the fault of that girl two nights ago. Or was it three?

He stomped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Sure she’d been good-looking. Blonde, blue eyes, slim. But right after he’d left The Breakers, he’d had a lot of girls who were hot. They were a dime a dozen in clubs like Magma. It wasn’t her looks that had gotten under his skin. She’d looked vaguely familiar. Yeah, that’s it. He stepped into the steam and stood under the showerhead. The hot water poured over him, clearing his head. Maybe she was one of the chicks he’d banged when he’d first started hitting the clubs. Turned out banging chicks didn’t change anything either.

He grabbed the soap and lathered up.

No. He’d have remembered her. Hell, the problem was that he couldn’t seem to forget her. He’d only seen her for an instant, but the minute they’d locked eyes a disturbing connection had taken hold of him. He slicked the soap over his body. Just remembering her was making him half-erect, headed toward a full hard-on. The longing that had been dogging him for the last three days waited to pounce as she wormed her way into his thoughts. He’d never heard her voice. He could imagine how it would sound though. Sweet. Musical almost. A contralto, even though that didn’t seem like it would go with her angelic good looks.

The truth was he’d felt her presence in the bar before he’d even looked at her. He was sure of it now. What could that be?

Stop lying to yourself.
He knew very well what it was. He had examples all around him of his family’s magic. And their curse. It was why he was trying so hard not to think about her.

The destiny he’d been trying so hard to avoid might just have found him anyway.

*

“I could pick
him up before we go,” Jason said. He cleared his throat. His power had grown now they’d found three of the four Talismans. He felt strong. But he didn’t let that lead him into being foolish. However strong he was, Morgan’s power was stronger.

He watched Morgan straighten from where she had been latching her carry-on bag. They were in the living area of the suite in the casino Morgan had finally purchased. Three display cases shed their glow over the posh red and black furniture. One display held the Sword. One held the Cup. Only the one that normally held the Wand stood empty. Morgan almost always took that Talisman with her. It was the one she related to the most.

“From what you’ve said, we don’t need to rush things.” Her yellow eyes dared him to tell her his reports were in error. “He’s not likely to hole up at The Breakers again for any length of time, as broken as he is. We can pick him up any time.” She raised her brows in a silent question.

“True,” Jason said trying to sound definite. Actually, he wished the Clan included a Finder. The youngest Tremaine boy could be elusive. He showed up at a different club every night, changed dirt-bag motels frequently, and used cash only. The Clan’s surveillance on The Breakers made it the one sure place to locate him, but he didn’t come home often.

Morgan grinned. She was a stunning woman these days, except for the golden eyes, which Jason never could like. Vibrant, she looked about thirty-five. But no one could call that grin attractive. “I rather like the idea that they must be sick with worry about him.” She pulled on her gloves. Who wore gloves for traveling in Southern California? Her real age showed in small things. “Besides, Hardwick is right. I have been far too focused on the Tremaines. They are no risk without their leader, and I’ve taken care of him rather nicely, if I do say so myself. Thank the gods I didn’t kill him. His suffering is much more satisfying.” She motioned to the valise. Jason made haste to pick it up. “Let’s get moving. We have much to do.”

Jason was relieved to change the subject. “How many more will you recruit?” Recruiting didn’t quite describe what she was doing, of course.

“At least three.” Morgan’s self-satisfied grin made him uneasy. “Hardwick is making excellent progress in orienting them. Hannibal is ready for deployment, and Alexander is coming right along. Now all we need is the last Talisman.”

But with Hardwick so engaged in Morgan’s little military projects, how could he search for it? And how would the Clan know if the Tremaines found it, now that their spy at The Breakers had been neutralized? Their plans required all four Talismans of the Tarot before they could be consummated. Without the fourth Talisman all this chasing around after military strategists was useless.

Morgan got a sly look about her. Jason hated that look. Had she seen the doubt in his eyes? “All in good time, Jason. I can feel the forces of the universe begin to align. Can’t you? Besides, Phil can keep an eye on The Breakers while I’m away.”

“How…how long will we be gone?” Morgan didn’t like to be questioned. But he was traipsing half way around the world with her. Didn’t he have a right to know?

“No idea. Once we reach Ulaanbaatar, I’ll want to meet with the Minister of Antiquities. Then we still have to trek out to the gravesite.”

At least a week in constant proximity to Morgan. That would be hell. But of course Jason had been in hell for some time now, working for Morgan. So it didn’t much matter.

*

Better get it
over with.
Lan pulled a blue tee shirt from the fully stocked chest of drawers in his room and tucked it into a pair of clean jeans in a vain gesture of tidiness. As if that would placate his family. He took a breath to gird his loins and headed out to the terrace.

They were all there: all the couples that comprised the family. Only Lan and Tammy were still unattached. His oldest sister Drew had Michael. They lounged together on a double chaise under the jacaranda tree. Kee was painting them. She’d perfectly captured Drew’s cool sophistication and Michael’s brute strength. Kee had set up her canvas at the edge of the flagstone terrace next to Devin, who had his nose in a book. The surfer boy wasn’t attending classes anymore. Must be writing his dissertation. Desalinization, if Lan remembered. Or cared, he reminded himself. His brother, Tris, was riding Jesse around on his shoulders across the grass beyond the terrace. Kid was getting big. Tris’s wife Maggie was discretely breastfeeding their newest, Elizabeth, though if the baby wasn’t dressed in pink he’d never know whether it was a boy or a girl. Lan tried to stay as far away from babies as possible.

Tammy, Kemble and Jane were not in evidence. Tammy was probably down at the stable. That’s where she always was these days. Tammy might be trying to escape her fate almost as hard as he was.

His mother glanced up from where she was reading to his father. Lan forced himself to look in their direction. Pain stabbed his gut and closed his throat. She looked so much older than she had eighteen months ago, before the attack. She’d be sixty this year and for the first time she looked it. She’d always been a beautiful woman. Still was. But the hair that once showed only a dramatic streak of gray had gone salt and pepper almost overnight. All the wisdom she’d seemed to exude in former times went unsaid these days. She didn’t even read her tarot cards anymore, like she’d given up on the future. He understood that feeling pretty damn well.

He kept his eyes carefully away from his father and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Lanyon.” His mother put down the book and stood, apparently surprised. Everyone else on the terrace stopped what they were doing and looked up. Lan could feel himself flush.

“Mother.”

“Decide to grace us with your presence?” Drew drawled. God he hated her manner sometimes.

“I’m sober. What more do you want?”

His mother came out from around the table and hugged him. He stood stiffly in her embrace. When she was done, she looked up at him. “We just worry about you.”

“Why the hell would you do that? You know where I am because Michael can Find me any time you want. And Drew probably reports my future like the six o’clock news.”

“You know that’s not how it works.” Drew frowned, marring her porcelain features. His sisters were beautiful, all of them.

Kemble came in from the kitchen. He carried a plate with a sandwich about six inches high. “I wanted to chain you in your room. But Miles said that was kidnapping.” He shrugged his big shoulders. “Lawyers. They only see the downside.”

Lan had given his oldest brother a merry chase for a while. He used to skip out of The Breakers by heading down the cliff path to the beach and hiking north, until Kemble put security cameras out there. Hid in the trunk of a car a couple of times, until Edwards started searching everything going out the gates as well as in. Then Lan discovered that even if he made it out, Michael would just Find him as soon as the family missed him, and they’d come and pick him up wherever he was. But he kept at it. He just started walking out the front gate as soon as they brought him back. What were they going to do, shoot him? And when they came to get him he ignored them. They weren’t going to wrestle him into the car or drug him, were they? He’d been plenty drugged during that time anyway, by his own hand.

Finally, Kemble knew he was beat. Now Lan came and went as he pleased. Not that he was pleased about anything these days. Numb was the best he could do and he didn’t manage to achieve that often enough.

Kemble handed him the plate. “Jane thinks you’ve lost weight.”

Lan crouched on the edge of a chair at the far end of the terrace, plate balanced in his lap, instead of joining them at the weathered, teak table. He concentrated on the sandwich to avoid everyone’s gaze. They’d be judging him. The sandwich was roast beef with cheese, and a slug of mayo and horseradish on the sourdough bread, under the tomato and lettuce. Just like Jane to remember how he liked his sandwiches.

“Are you taking care of yourself, Lanyon?” his mother asked. The question was tentative these days, like she was. Once she would have been standing in front of him, grilling him…no ordering him to stop taking the chance of Morgan capturing or killing him.

“Sure,” he said around a mouthful, not looking at his mother. Why hadn’t he brought in some booze from the living room bar? If ever he needed a buzz on it was now.

Oh, hell. He’d forgotten why he was here. Might as well get it over with. Then he could skip out any time. “Uh, happy birthday.”

His mother smiled, though like all her smiles these days, it seemed a thin cover for her sadness. “You’ll stay for the celebration tonight?” She must have seen the panic in his eyes. “Don’t worry. It will just be family.” The days of the huge parties his father had always arranged for her were gone, of course. He sucked in a breath as he realized there was another problem. What an asshole he was. He looked away so he wouldn’t see her face. “I didn’t bring a present.”

“Good going,” Tris muttered. He lowered Jesse to the flagstone terrace. The six-year-old dashed over to Maggie. “Leave your mother alone, Jess. She’s nursing.”

“She’s always nursing.” The boy pouted, kicking at nothing in particular. “I thought you said a little sister would be fun.”