The Magic's in the Music (Magic Series Book 5) (32 page)

Damn right she looked well. She looked twenty years younger than when she’d been here last year. “It’s time.” She had no patience for beating around the bush. Hardwick might already have gotten the location of the Talisman out of the Tremaine boy, and she might be that much closer to her goal.

“You have come for him at last?” the monk asked.

“Yes. My plane waits in Athens.”

“Let me send for him. He is working in the stables. Or perhaps I should send him to wash first. He will be dirty.”

“Let us go to him.” She didn’t want him out of her sight another minute. She had cultivated him since he was nine. She’d waited long enough. “I will supervise his preparation.”

Brother Theodosius glanced to her, then down. “Very well. He belongs to you, after all.”

Yes, he does
, she thought with satisfaction.
Body and soul.

The monk led the way from the tiny visitor’s room, out through the brilliant Mediterranean sun. Of course, Thomas would not be out in the sun. She wanted him well-muscled by work, but she preferred a paler skin than the local olive tone—one more in keeping with his Celtic origins. They crossed the stone-flagged courtyard and into another stone building where the animals were kept. She saw a fleeting shadow or two in the cloister corridor beyond, but most monks were apparently at their prayers.

“And has he remained pure?” she asked her companion sharply.

“Oh, yes. As you required.”

“Any more of those nasty nocturnal emissions to report?” He’d had his first shortly before her last visit.

“Sadly, yes,” the monk said. “But he is nearly twenty-five. I’m afraid it’s natural at that age, in spite of one’s best efforts. And he always reports them faithfully.”

Morgan felt herself getting wet between her legs. “And you take proper action?”

“He has been scourged on each occasion. I will say his questioning nature has been quite suppressed. He is totally focused on being worthy of your faith in him and on his purpose.”

Of course, neither Thomas himself nor the monk who had preserved his virgin state knew what that purpose was. She was sure the monk thought it was a holy purpose. She smiled inwardly. Maybe it was.

“Excellent.”

The barn was dark to her eyes as they moved in through the wide doors. Morgan heard the animals moving around in their stalls; the soft shuffling, an occasional snort or lowing sound. There—the grunt of a pig. The stable was actually huge. Through the doors at the far side of the aisle she could see a chicken coop with cackling fowl wandering around a yard. Inside, the stable smelt of straw and dirt and leather and…

There he was, naked, as she required, bending with his pitchfork to toss straw into a stall.
Dear me.
Since she’d required additional work for him, his body had grown more thickly muscled. He was perhaps a little lean. Monks apparently didn’t know the meaning of, ‘Feed him enough food.’ But she would soon cure that. His back was turned to them, showing tight buttocks and thick thighs, gleaming with a light sheen of sweat in the heat of the fall afternoon. The muscles moving underneath the skin as he worked made him look like a sleek machine of skin and blood. His nut-colored hair curled around his shoulders, which were laced with scars and fresher welts, as were his lower back and buttocks.

Morgan calmed her breathing. What a pleasure he would be as he fulfilled his destiny.

“Thomas,” the monk called. “Stop your work. You have a most prestigious visitor.”

He turned. Morgan didn’t know what was more startling, his blue eyes or the impressive organ nestled in the thatch of hair between his legs. He had angelic features, open and regular, with a cleft chin and a strong jaw. But it had always been his lips she loved; sensual, a little full. Lovely. He immediately knelt and bowed his head.

“Sir,” he breathed. “How may I serve you?”

“It’s time you fulfilled your purpose,” she said sternly. “You will prepare yourself to come with me.”

He glanced up, his eyes full of hope, even joy. Oh, the monks had done their work well. “Thank you, sir. A thousand thank yous.”

He spoke English to her, as she had required, but he had also been taught Greek, both ancient and current, and Latin. In fact, he was quite educated, though much of it was self-taught in the books he was required to study by the candle in his hut, which sat just outside the walls of the monastery. Still, Brother Theodosius tested him rigorously and had found him intelligent and diligent. No contact with the outside world had been allowed, of course. His studies had been mathematics, certain philosophers, and classical literature. No religion, though that hurt Brother Theodosius mightily, and no social or political tracts or current history. He had no idea of the modern world. She didn’t want him getting any independent ideas. No, he was to be a perfect, innocent, willing vehicle. She had picked him most carefully. His lineage was perfect. His parents had exhibited the powers of the gene before she had eliminated them. His upbringing had been as perfect as she could make it. It had taken her nearly sixteen years to achieve this result. And he was now ready, just in time for the acquisition of the final Talisman.

“Let me be certain the baths are vacant, Mr. Le Fay, so that you may supervise his preparation.”

She nodded. She was going to enjoy that.

She did enjoy it. She enjoyed his blushes, even though he thought she was a man. She enjoyed watching him soap his body. She instructed him to rub himself all over with the stiff sponge and the brushes in the bath. She was careful in her instructions to scrub his fingernails. She didn’t want to be seen traveling with someone who looked like a peasant. He soaped his hair and washed his genitals. The water was cold, of course. It was a monastery after all. His penis and testicles contracted in the cold. Delightful. She soaped his back herself, her hands running over the welts and enjoying his discomfort as he flinched at the soapy sting. She had him stand and fill buckets from the well inside the bathhouse, enjoying the muscles in his arms pulling at the ropes. He lined them up on the short rock wall that edged the area with a drain, and she commanded him to upend them over himself.

Then she helped to blot him dry. It was all almost more than her willpower could withstand. She would love to take that big cock inside her and ride him mercilessly until they were both screaming. But his destiny must be preserved. She wondered if oral sex counted. She’d love to have him on his knees, lapping at her sex. But she couldn’t take a chance. She’d have to use the handsome brutes she kept at the casino for any kind of sex. She couldn’t take a chance with ruining Thomas.

Morgan unzipped the large backpack she’d brought with her and produced jeans and stockings and boots. She’d packed a dark tee shirt for the very purpose of absorbing any blood he might have on him from opening his welts, as well as a denim shirt to wear over it. No underwear of course. She wanted to think of him naked under the jeans.

“Dress,” she commanded. “We have a long journey ahead.”

*

Tris inherited the
lovely job of telling the rest of the family that Lan and his Destiny had been taken. He gathered them in the kitchen. Jane helped hold his mother together. Kee and Dev had each other. Tris gave Tammy a huge hug. But it was his father’s expression of guilt and defeat that most affected him. Senior blamed himself for the rebellion that had led to Lanyon’s capture.

Now Drew was trying to do the painful job of sorting through the visions cascading through her mind.

“Can you see anything?” Kee asked.

“I’m trying,” Drew said, exasperated. The entire family looked on anxiously.

Michael rubbed her back. “I know it’s hard to open the door, honey.”

She sighed. “I’ve been trying so long to get control…it’s depressing to let them all in.”

“I remember you said you saw Lanyon and Greta against multicolored lights,” his mother said, her voice tentative. Tris hadn’t actually expected her to participate at all. She was clinging to Senior’s arm, her eyes red.

“You’re right,” Tris agreed. “That could be the neon of Las Vegas.”

“Look for that, honey,” Michael said, “as the visions flip past.”

Drew nodded her head. “Let’s go again.” She took a breath, let it out. Her eyes went unfocused, flickering here and there, though the family knew she wasn’t seeing anything in the room. They were all silent. Tris tried to keep from fidgeting. It would do no good, and might distract her.

Drew jerked back and sucked in a breath. She was back. She looked around with big eyes, swallowing hard.

Kemble came in with his iPad. “I thought I might be able to help with picture of the place if you can find me any landmark, Drew.”

“We won’t need that,” she said. “It was pretty distinctive. It’s the one with the pyramid.”

“Great!” Kemble said. “The Luxor.” He tapped the tablet surface and passed it over to her. “That it?”

She nodded. “There was a lot of green light in the background.”

“That would be the MGM Grand across the street,” he said. “Good news and good work.”

“I’m not sure it’s good news,” Drew said dully. That stopped everyone’s murmur of approval.

“What?” Tris prompted. Best to know the worst.

“It wasn’t the vision of neon lights that showed the pyramid. It was the one where everything was in flames.”

The silence felt like a heavy blanket on the room.

“That might not be bad news,” Jane said softly into the vacuum. As everyone looked up at her, half of them incredulous, half hopeful, she continued. “Well, you saw them against the background of flame. That means they were outside, not caught in it, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s right,” Kemble said, trying to sound positive.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Tris rubbed his hands together. All this planning and trying to figure things out was just wasting time. He wanted action.

Kemble chewed his lip. “What it doesn’t really tell us is whether that’s where they were being held, or whether they’re just running by it on their way from somewhere else.”

Michael stood, bringing Drew with him and hugging her to his side. “It’s our best shot, Kemble. Can you get us the plans?”

Kemble nodded. “Plans for the Luxor coming up.”

*

“Greta,” Lan whispered,
trying to scoot over to where he knew she laid in the darkness. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He’d fallen into a groggy state of semi-consciousness after the guy with the light eyes had dumped them here. Though his head felt like a tympani being assaulted by a hyper-active five-year-old, at least he was fully conscious. “Greta?”

He brushed her with his body and felt the usual electric charge to his groin. It was almost comforting at this point. The music he thought of as hers started weaving through his brain. She groaned. That was even more comforting. Guy could have overdosed her or something. He didn’t seem like the careful type. He felt her try to roll onto her back. When she realized her wrists were bound she started to panic.

“Shhh, shhh,” he soothed, over her frightened gasps. “I’m here.” He heard retching noises. He got that one. That meant she’d had a blow to the head as well.

“Lan?” Her voice was small and hoarse. “Where are we?”

“Keep calm,” he said, putting the thigh with the flute holster over hers. He wondered if the flute was still in it. The feel of his thigh against hers was a comfort. Would it be a comfort to her, too? He kinda hoped so. “I think the Clan has got us. Not sure where. But we took a long car ride.”

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “What are they going to do with us?”

That was the sixty-four-thousand dollar question, wasn’t it? Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good. The music in his head took on an edgy tone. He cleared his throat. “The guy who took us must have overheard me say I knew what the fourth Talisman was.” He gripped his lips together until he could grit out, “This is all my fault.”

She gave a relieved sigh. “Oh, Lan. That’s great. All you have to do is tell them about this Talisman thing then.”