Your Magic or Mine? (37 page)

“Yes. You told me how when you put it in the context of the equation. It took me a few tries before I could work it correctly. I learned something about calibration in the process, and I’m pleased with the results. Thank you.”

“
I
told you how to use the equation with the spell?
Me? The intuitive caster?
I didn’t even realize I had used it.”

“Yes, you were specific about power levels.”

“I still don’t understand how to use the formula.”

“I think you do, but you’ll have to experiment and decide that for yourself. It may change your whole idea of the process.”

“There’s something else we have to do first.” She looked around before she whispered, “Marcus, we really must discuss what I’ve learned from Lulabelle. She had news that might make big changes for us, too.”

He winced internally at her statement. If they were alone again together, he doubted they’d spend too much time talking, and mating would only make it harder for him to walk away from her—as he must do for both their sakes.

He was pondering what to say when Prick interrupted, “Hey, Forscher, come over here and tell me and Horner about the spell you learned.”

“Excuse me, Gloriana,” he pleaded, for once grateful to the blowhard. “First things first.”

Gloriana watched him walk over to the two men and start talking. Within a minute, they were sitting at a table again, scribbling equations and diagrams. One of the other twosomes called to her, and she went to help them at another table. When she looked back at Marcus several minutes later, his entire group had vanished.

“Where’d they go?” she asked the remaining pair.

“They said something about getting a drink and looking up some elementary spell books,” the Fomster said.

“Can you come here when you’re finished with them? I don’t get how the formula is supposed to work,” the Traddie complained.

“Sure,” she said. It took all her self-control to stay calm. She’d never find him tonight. He wouldn’t be on the plane in the morning, either. Best to help these people and go to bed.

Tomorrow, however, it was time to get in touch with his mama.

When she arrived home Sunday afternoon, Gloriana hardly stopped to reassure her parents that all was well despite the riot or to do more than give Delilah a quick petting. She’d explain everything to her parents that night at supper. First, she fired up her computer and found the practitioner registry.

Okay, the Forschers were somewhere in Europe. That put them seven hours ahead of her. Two o’clock in the afternoon here, nine o’clock at night there. They would probably be at dinner. No, she couldn’t call at this time. Nobody wanted to be interrupted while eating, and if they were in a restaurant or with friends, real conversation would be out of the question.

E-mail was the solution to the problem. She’d hope that Judith Forscher would check her e-mail first thing in the morning. If she had no answer to her message tomorrow, she’d call, no matter what time it was there. Composition of the message took a while, but she finally put together a note to send. She read it over, checking for typos.

Dear Judith
,

It is imperative that we speak at your earliest possible convenience. You see
—
and I’m sorry to have to spring the news on you by these impersonal means
—
your son and I are soul mates. We only discovered it recently
.

Given our first meeting
—
over the spell-casting controversy
—
neither of us expected such an outcome. There is, however, no mistake here. We are, in fact, soul mates
.

Marcus first denied the facts vehemently. He is determined to reject the phenomenon and me. He claims that he could not possibly be a good soul mate or a good father to our children, your grandchildren
.

Would you please call me as soon as possible at one of the numbers under my name at the bottom of this message. Either my home or the cell phone number is fine. I will be home tonight after 10 p.m., my time, or 5 a.m. tomorrow, Monday, your time. If that isn’t convenient, send me the best time to call you. Do not worry about waking me up. I’m looking forward to discussing the situation with you
.

Thanks
,

Gloriana

There. That sounded urgent enough and not overly emotional. It raised questions while offering no answers. The zinger about grandchildren should get Judith’s attention, and stating only the bare facts left lots to her imagination. Gloriana copied the message from her word processing program to the e-mail screen and hit
Send
.

Nothing to do now except wait and discuss the situation with her parents over dinner.

The next morning she woke up at two, and at three, and at four. At five, she said to hell with it and got out of bed. When Delilah whined for a run, Gloriana let her out into the fenced backyard. The dog gave her a dirty look before going out the door. Too bad, she wasn’t budging from her house.

Gloriana first checked her e-mail. No word from Judith. She made herself some breakfast and was on her third cup of coffee, jotting down the points she particularly wanted to make, when the phone rang. At last.

“Hello, Gloriana. I hope it’s not too early,” Judith said to her hello.

“Oh, no, of course not.” Gloriana overcame a small feeling of panic, almost wishing for a moment she’d taken up her parents’ offer to be a party to the conversation. No, this she had to do on her own. “Thanks for calling promptly.”

“Stefan and I are extremely happy to learn that you’re Marcus’s soul mate. As you can imagine, we’ve been wondering when he’d find his. I was beginning to despair, in fact. You’ll be perfect for him. You’re intelligent and beautiful and come from a good family. We were very impressed by all the Morgans at the Boston debate.”

Gloriana could hear nothing except joy and warmth in Judith’s voice. “Thank you. It’s gratifying and encouraging to have your support.”

“Why on earth is Marcus rejecting you? How?”

“He says he’s not opposed to me personally. He simply maintains that he doesn’t want a soul mate, at all, period. Ever.”

“How do you feel about him?”

His mother certainly asked the hard questions. “I’m drawn to him more and more—when I don’t want to shake some sense into his head. I don’t think I’m in love with him yet—or he with me. We haven’t had the time alone to get to know each other. I’m willing to give the process a chance, however. He’s not.”

“What are his exact reasons for his recalcitrance?”

Gloriana took a deep breath. There was no use in sugarcoating them, not if she wanted to get Judith on her side. “They are twofold. First, his upbringing, and second, his genes.”

“What? He’s blaming his father and me?” Judith paused, then continued, “Tell me everything, please.”

“Here’s the story,” Gloriana said, not surprised at the astonishment she heard in the questions. As requested, she laid out all the details, referring to her notes and making new ones while she talked.

“That’s the situation,” she finished.

Silence on the other end of the line.

After some seconds, she asked, “Judith?”

“Oh, I’m here, dear, a bit shocked, a little sad, and really quite alarmed. To think Marcus had these feelings and ideas all along. He never said a word. I’ve suspected something wasn’t quite right between us for the past couple of years, and I’m sorry to say, I put it down to his overworking. He’s always driven himself, but for him to think we want him to live up only to
our
expectations … or that we don’t love him … or that he’s flawed in some way …”

There was another little silence, and Gloriana didn’t try to fill it. She’d told Judith all she knew, and the woman needed to think it through. The pain she heard in Marcus’s mother’s voice made her want to cry, though.

Finally Judith spoke again and with a firmer tone. “I think I see where all his thinking is coming from. Gloriana, don’t you worry. It’s our problem to correct. Stefan and I will straighten Marcus out, and I’m sure he will return the favor—about a number of matters. I only wish it had come to light long ago, and we have to accept full responsibility for why it did not. We simply went along with his saying everything was fine. Thank you for telling us. I’m sorry to have put you in a difficult position.”

Gloriana wished she wasn’t in her position, either, but thought it better not to voice that opinion.

Judith didn’t wait for a comment. “I have a good idea of what you’ve been facing with my son. Marcus takes after his father, and they are both stubborn. When faced with incontrovertible proof, however, they do change their minds. I’m going to talk to Stefan as soon as we hang up. I know we can get to the bottom of the matter quickly. We’ll let you know what happens with our son—or Marcus himself will. Once again, we’re both overjoyed you and Marcus have found each other. Please give your parents our regards.”

“I’ll do that. Is there anything in particular you want me to do or tell Marcus?”

“No, I think we’ll surprise him. I’d let him stew if I were you. And,” she chuckled, “let the imperative work on him, too.”

“Judith, I think we’re going to get along fine,” Gloriana said with a chuckle of her own.

“We’ll talk soon. Good-bye.”

“My regards to Stefan,” Gloriana said and hung up the phone.

She slumped in her chair, exhausted and relieved. At least their talk was over and had gone pretty well. Part of her would have liked to talk longer with her future mother-in-law.
Mother-in-law!
Yikes! At least Judith had taken her report seriously.

All she could do was wait and see what they did and hope they could get through to their stubborn son where she had failed. They, and the phenomenon, had their work cut out for them.

In the meantime, she supposed she should get back to work after the weekend away. First, check her e-mail. When she saw what awaited her, she wished she hadn’t opened the program. Numerous messages about the debate filled her in-box almost to capacity. She opened a few and discovered a disturbing trend. The subject lines often gave no clue to the contents, and while the vast majority applauded the outcome, a distinct few made vile, vicious, violence-threatening attacks on her, Marcus, Ed, the High Council, and whoever else wanted a reasoned study and discussion.

Gloriana immediately called Ed and told him of her messages. He had also received the attacks.

“Send them all to John,” the editor said. “He has some of his people working on them. Have you heard if Marcus received threats?”

“No, we haven’t spoken.” She wasn’t going to elaborate on that.

“Okay, I’ll call him.”

“Any word from Walcott? How did the discussion with him go Saturday night?”

“Nothing from him personally. He had control of himself when we talked to him after the debate. Claimed he couldn’t help it if people chose to take action because of our high-handed refusal to let him state his opinions. Smug bastard.”

“How serious are these threats? How worried do I need to be?”

“The prime instigators seem to be Walcott and Kemble. While many people are sympathetic to the Traddies’ view, very few of them are actually following the extremists. John thinks it’s basically the two of them causing an uproar. Thus far, it’s only talk and these letters, and we’re watching them closely. Just in case, keep an eye out. If you feel threatened in any way, tell John, and we’ll assign a Sword to you.”

“I’ll be glad when the last debate is over,” Gloriana said with a sigh.

“We’ve done good work, but I will, too.”

She said good-bye and put down the phone. Thinking about what Ed had said, she decided to tell her parents about the threats. She herself wouldn’t worry about them. She’d be at the farm all week, they could confine customers to the store areas, and strangers stood out, especially around the greenhouses where she’d be working.

By Wednesday afternoon she’d done most of the work she had planned for the week and was feeling restless. Oh, a few more threats had come in, and a couple were extremely rabid, but all else was calm.

Except for her. She felt itchy, restless, and generally discontented. There’d been no word from the Forschers, parents or son. What was she going to do for the next few days?

The last debate would be in San Francisco, a city she’d always loved. She talked it over with her parents and decided she’d go there the next day. She had friends to visit, she wanted to discuss some botanical issues with colleagues there, and she could use the downtime. Staying in Austin, she’d only obsess over Marcus—or she’d give in to impulse and go see him, and neither act would accomplish anything. Not in the long or short term. Besides, the imperative was leaving her alone, so she ought to take advantage of the lull and prepare herself for seeing him on Saturday.

She made the arrangements and flew out early on Thursday.

Thursday morning while he drank his second cup of coffee and read the paper in his living room, Marcus congratulated himself on the amount of work he’d accomplished since he returned from Atlanta—he’d evaluated an article for a professional journal, proofed one of his appearing in the next quarter, written a chapter in his novel in progress, and sent the rabid e-mails to Ed and John. The threatening messages had given him pause, but their origin and their specific details were still too vague for him to worry much. Let the Swords take care of it.

Best of all, he’d succeeded in blanking the soul-mate situation out of his mind.

Oh, sure, he had a couple of bad moments—when he’d gotten a country music station by mistake on the car radio and heard a plaintive ballad that sang of deep loneliness and loss when the loved one had left and wouldn’t be back. Something about not loving as often as he should have and asking for one more chance.

No, that didn’t describe him or his problem. He quickly changed the station and tuned his mind to another subject.

He’d had the usual erotic dreams about her and had woken up aching.