Your Magic or Mine? (40 page)

Right to the person who had brought him and his parents together.

His mate
.

What a revelation that nobody knew how to be a mate before they met their own. Judith had certainly set him straight about his thinking—if it could be called that—on the soul-mate situation and his ability to be one. So had Gloriana—and in more forceful terms.

Gloriana.

His soul mate
.

What was he going to tell her? How was he going to explain? He tried saying things out loud. “You were right and I was wrong? I was demented? All those things I told you about my parents and my upbringing? Most of them lived only in my head? They really do love me? I’m not too bad, actually?” He couldn’t stop his voice rising at the end of each sentence, making what should have been statements into questions.

Samson cocked his head and listened.

Should he beg? “Please be my soul mate? Please take me back, let me in, let me be with you, let me … love you?”

Damn, that was all worse than pathetic. It was pitiful. Samson even agreed because he came over, whined, and put his head on Marcus’s knee again.

“Well, boy,” he said as he rubbed the dog’s head, “it looks like both of us are surrounded by strong females. Delilah probably takes after her mistress, and I’m between my mother and Gloriana.”

Samson’s ears perked up at the sound of Delilah’s name, and he grinned.

“Yeah, I know.” Marcus’s center seemed to perk up also at the thought of her mistress. They both had it bad. He still had a problem, however. What was he going to

do about Gloriana?

No, wait, that wasn’t the first question he should be asking. The first was,
what did he want?

Gloriana
. He wanted her. He needed her.

Love
. He wanted her to love him. He wanted to love her and show that love every way he could. If what they’d been through was any indication, the physical part of loving would be mind-blowing.

Children
. The outcome of physical love. He wanted to have children with her. Plural. No more of this only-child business like his ancestors.

It All
. He wanted
It All
, everything the soul-mate phenomenon promised practitioners. A bond for life.

He’d hurt and confused her terribly, he could see that now. How could he get her to talk to him? Would she?

Of course, she would. She was still his soul mate.

He sat there, mulling over approaches and petting his dog. He’d probably come off as a pompous idiot to Gloriana, and more than one time. Still, he’d like to salvage a little of his pride if possible. He wouldn’t grovel. Not unless he absolutely had to.

But… he could ask for help. If he maintained that he really didn’t know how to be part of a family or how to have a soul mate, what if… what if he asked her to teach him how? She’d watched her brother and sister and their mates. She’d been part of a big family. She had the experience and must have the knowledge.

Oh, yeah. He liked that idea. He’d bet money that she had no clue that nobody knew how to be a mate beforehand. They could learn together, and that would put them on equal footing. He’d have some control. Over himself, hopefully. She was definitely a force of nature, uncontrollable by anybody—and he liked it that way.

He would institute his family’s new rule about saying “I love you.” Since his parents had started that practice, he wanted to hear it more and more.

Did he really mean it where Gloriana was concerned? A fierce little jab in his solar plexus accompanied the thought. “Oh, all right,” he said to his magic center. “Your damn process takes some getting used to. It’s all so damned new. Yes, I love her. Yes, she’s my soul mate.”

His center hummed, and warmth and joy spread out from it. Marcus had to grin. It appeared his thinking process was working—the solutions were coming swift and certain like they always did.

Samson gave a yip and looked at him as if to say, “What are you waiting for?”

“Good point.” He reached for the phone and the file with her numbers. Why hadn’t he put her on speed dial?

Two minutes later, he frowned at the phone. She wasn’t picking up at any location. Not at her campus office, not at her condo, not at the farm, and not on her cell phone. He looked at the file again—ah, here was the number for her parents.

Alaric answered. “Hi, Marcus, how are you?”

“Fine. Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m in a little bit of a hurry. Do you know where Gloriana is? I can’t get her at any of her numbers.”

“Yes, she’s gone to San Francisco. Left this morning.”

“Already?”

“She said something about wanting to get out of town to somewhere she could think with no interruptions. If you don’t mind my asking, how are you doing? Have you solved your soul-mate problems yet?”

Damn, she’d told her parents. He really didn’t want to talk about it with his prospective father-in-law. Oh, my God,
his father-in-law
. Marcus gulped and said, “No, and that’s what I want to discuss with her.”

“We had a nice talk a little while ago with your parents.”

“They called you?”

“They’re coming to stay with us for a couple of days after they sleep off their jet lag. We’re going to watch the Webcast of the debate together.”

Marcus could practically hear Alaric grinning. It was one thing to realize he was about to have in-laws. Then to find out the two sets of parents were going to be staying together? God help both him and her. “Thanks for the info, Alaric, I—”

Alaric interrupted. “Marcus, you go get that girl of mine. You two need each other. Everything will work out, you’ll see. Remember, being soul mates just gets better all the time.”

“Uh, thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the

information.”

They exchanged good-byes, and Marcus hung up the phone.

“Guess I need to check the airline schedules,” he said while he booted up his computer. Maybe she’d sent him an e-mail about her plans.

None of the e-mails listed her as the sender, however. He clicked on the oldest in the list to see what it was.

Didn’t these people ever get tired? He tried the next one.

At least the message was short. One more and he’d send all with an address he didn’t recognize to the Swords.

Uh-oh. That one sounded more serious. He quickly went through several more, and the anger and vitriol grew. He opened the latest message.

A cold shiver went down Marcus’s back when he read the words. He hadn’t thought it possible, but the evil in the words leaped off the screen as if it was alive. The message was no joke. He reached for the phone and punched the button to speed-dial Baldwin.

“John, this is Forscher. Where are you? Do you have access to your e-mail? I’m sending you a message that was sent to me overnight. It looks serious.”

“I’m at my computer,” Baldwin replied. “Send it and stay on the phone.”

“Okay, forwarding.” Marcus hit the button. “I found out from her father that Gloriana’s on the way to San Francisco early today. I don’t know if she’s received the same message.”

“Damn. I’m still in New York. Ed and I are flying out there later. You caught me before I left for the airport. Ah, your message has arrived. I guess we can thank the gremlins of the Internet for moving it through so quickly.”

There was a moment of silence while Baldwin read the message. “I see what you mean. It is the first communication with real action threatened. I agree, we have to take it very seriously. I’ll call our people in San Francisco. Most of the team is there already. We’ll put someone on Gloriana and double-check all the meeting rooms.”

“Good,” Marcus said. “I’m going to try to get out there as soon as possible.”

“Okay. Check in at the Sword office when you get there. If we’re not there yet, talk to either Steve Alioto or Fergus Whipple.”

“Whipple? He’s going to be there? You’re certainly pulling in the big guns, aren’t you?”

“Believe it or not, the most powerful Sword alive asked to join us. It seems he’s a big fan of Morgan herbs and spices—and your formula.”

“Great. I’ll look for all of you there.” Marcus said good-bye and set about finding a plane reservation.

Marcus was in luck. A flight out in the afternoon would put him in San Francisco about six in the evening. He packed and dropped off Samson with Evelyn and George, telling them he’d explain everything when he returned. On the way to the airport, he changed stations on the radio and found that country-western one again. The male singer asked if he could trust her with his heart. Good question. He was about to find out.

At seven thirty that evening the limo dropped him off at the San Francisco HeatherRidge on Nob Hill. He checked in and sent his luggage to his suite. He called Gloriana’s suite when she didn’t answer her cell, but no one answered there, either. That left the Swords as a source of information. They would be able to pinpoint her location.

“Ah, Forscher,” a giant bear of a man with flowing white hair and beard greeted him as he walked in the door. He radiated magical power and looked like a well-fed Gandalf. “I’m Whipple. Glad to meet you. You’ve done wonderful work with your equation. I’m having a great deal of fun with it. We’ll talk about it later.”

Feeling somewhat like a kid standing next to a legend, Marcus shook the large hand of Fergus Whipple, a wizard of such power that he was rumored to be off the level chart. “I’m honored to meet you, Mr. Whipple.”

“Call me Fergus. This is Steve Alioto. John told us you were coming and sent a copy of that threat.”

“Security officers and the rest of the Swords on the team have been scouring the building since John called. So far, we’ve found nothing out of place. Of course, we can’t go into the private condos,” Steve said.

“Where’s Gloriana?” Marcus asked.

“We don’t know,” Fergus answered.

“What?” An icy fist took hold of his stomach. “She’s supposed to be here.”

“She’s checked in, and her things are in her suite, but she’s not in the building.”

“Have you tried her cell phone?” The ice was growing, down to his gut.

“Yes, and we called her parents,” Steve said. “They told us she had planned to visit with some friends. The doorman saw her get into a car with some people yesterday. She had a small bag and a backpack, and she was laughing and hugging them. There’s no reason to think harm has come to her. The parents gave us names and a couple of phone numbers. We called and got only answering machines. When the Morgans asked why we wanted the information, we simply told them Ed wanted to rehearse early tomorrow.”

“That’s all fine, but… that was yesterday. What about today?” Marcus stopped himself from yelling at the man, took a deep breath, and regained some control. Steve had done the best he could. She was probably all right. The ice retreated a bit. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“Let’s go get some dinner,” Fergus said. “We’re doing what we can to find her, you need to keep your strength up, and I want to discuss your formula.”

“Fine,” Marcus acquiesced, and they headed for the restaurant.

Later in his suite, Marcus tried Gloriana’s cell again, but all he got was her voice mail. He decided against phoning the Morgans. They had promised to tell her to check in with the Swords if she called.

He ought to be on cloud nine. The dinner with Whipple had been one of those occasions he’d remember for a long time. Not only did Fergus understand his equation, he had actually used it and come up with calibration methods that might translate into ways lower-level practitioners could cast with it. To have a warlock of Fergus’s level, talents, and reputation on his side could make a powerful impact on those who were ambivalent about the formula.

Worries about Gloriana, however, kept him from enjoying the triumph. They also kept him from sleeping much. In the morning, he checked out the ballroom and the overflow rooms with Ed and John, who had arrived late last night. Afterward he went back down to the Sword office and hung out there.

Still no Gloriana. No call. No nothing. Where was the woman?

At eleven thirty, Ken Livingstone, the general manager of the HeatherRidge, came in with a serious look on his face. “We’ve had a bit of vandalism,” he reported. “Housekeeping went into your suite, Dr. Forscher, and found it a shambles.”

Everybody hurried to the tenth floor and into Marcus’s suite. Someone had thoroughly ransacked the rooms. Feathers and foam billowed from cut seat cushions and pillows, the bedsheets were in tatters, and Marcus’s clothes were in a pile with a sticky substance smelling of cleaning chemicals all over them. “FORCE FOR TRUE MAGIC” was spray-painted on one wall. Steve immediately left for the security offices to see if the hall cameras had recorded the vandal’s entrance.

“Thank God, I had my laptop and notes with me,” Marcus said after surveying the damage and tamping down the anger rushing through him.