Charmed: Destiny Romance (11 page)

What planet was the woman on? ‘Are you serious?’

Her godmother waved a hand, her rings clinking together. ‘Oh, you’ve got things to talk about, no doubt. But I do love a happy ending.’

Mel covered her face with her hands. Her godmother had clearly begun to slide into senility. Just what she needed to deal with now.

‘What happy ending?’ Mel asked wearily. She was too exhausted by her grief to keep up her anger. ‘Didn’t you just see what happened? We’re never going to be together. And now it’s worse, because I know we’re soul mates.’

Aunt Gertrude stopped her fiddling with the goddess charms display and gave Mel an aghast look. ‘Didn’t you read the book?’

‘Yes, I read the book. I can’t read Michael because we’re soul mates,’ Mel summarised. At least there was an explanation. Cold comfort that it was. ‘It doesn’t change the fact that he’s non-magical. And I’m not allowed to have a relationship with anyone who’s non-magical.’ Which basically meant no one at all.

‘But you didn’t read it properly!’ Aunt Gertrude grabbed the book and lay it open on the counter to the relevant page.

‘It’s practically incomprehensible!’

‘
There is an automatic right to recognise such a pairing
,’ Aunt Gertrude recited, pointing at the passage of purple ink.

‘So?’

Aunt Gertrude rolled her eyes. ‘That’s what we call a
loophole
, my darling girl.’

It took Mel a moment. Her mouth dropped open as realisation hit.
The right to recognise a pairing
. Soul mates were automatically allowed to be together. The
Magic Code
was specific. Very specific. And the Magic Council made all their rulings according to it. And this time there were no sneaky parentheses exempting anyone, including psychic-seers. She read it over again, just to be sure.

‘I’m allowed to have a relationship with my soul mate,’ she whispered, feeling almost dizzy as the knowledge settled inside her.

‘Of course you are.’

‘Why . . . How . . . Why didn’t I know about this?’

Aunt Gertrude shrugged. ‘Not much point telling you and getting your hopes up when it’s more likely you’ll be hit by lightning. Do you have any idea how many people actually meet their soul mates? It’s very rare, missy! And thank your lucky stars that you like him.’

‘Huh?’

‘That’s why I kept telling you to have fun with him. We needed to be sure you clicked. People don’t always like – let alone love – their perfect match. Some soul mates are bound together because they’re destined to
hate
one another for eternity. Tricky business this soul mate thing.’

‘You couldn’t have just told me this from the start?’

Aunt Gertrude’s eyes sparkled. ‘Now, where would the fun have been in that?’

Mel’s breath was coming fast, as if she’d run a sprint. Did this really mean . . .? Could she really . . .? With
Michael
?

But he was so angry with her. And, she belatedly realised, it didn’t matter anyway. ‘But you’ve wiped his mind now.’

‘I did no such thing.’

‘But you cast a spell on him – I saw it.’

‘Well, I am still a member of the Magic Council. And we can’t have just anyone out there spouting off about the magical world. I just saw to it that he can’t.’

‘Can’t what?’

‘Tell anyone about us. He still remembers everything. But if he tries to tell anyone about it, he’s going to come down with a nasty bout of gastro. Instantly. Be sure to tell him about the “instantly”, won’t you, dear? When he tries it out – which he no doubt will – he might want to do it by phone from his bathroom.’

Mel shook her head.
Poor Michael
.

‘Now, get your skates on.’ Aunt Gertrude made a shooing motion towards the door.

‘No. I need to wait. Give him time to cool off.’

‘Haven’t you wasted enough of your life waiting? Go on, get. Don’t come back ‘til I can see the smile on your face from a block away.’

‘Aunt Gertrude,’ Mel groaned.

Her godmother turned away and busied herself with the charms again. ‘He’s a lovely boy,’ she said quietly, wistfully. ‘And those arms . . . 
oh, my goodness
.’

Mel grabbed her handbag, gave her godmother a quick hug and headed to her car. Could she do this? Could she win Michael back? Or, knowing she was a freak, would he reject her the way so many others in her life had?

It was a risk she had to take.

Michael sat in his car, looking out the window without seeing anything. The events of the past couple of hours had completely shifted his view of the world.

Mel could read minds, predict the future.

Magic existed.

Mel’s weird aunt could make rooms appear and disappear – rooms that were bigger inside than the walls outside, breaking every law of physics, engineering, and, well, reality.

It was insanity.

But then Michael’s life had pretty much been turned upside down from the very moment he’d set foot inside that shop and the beautiful gypsy sales assistant had swooned in his arms.

He’d been lost from the beginning.
Or, no.
Maybe he’d already been lost and meeting Mel was when he’d finally been found. That made about as much sense as everything else on this weird-arse day. It was all too much.

He thought about calling someone – although who, he wasn’t sure – to see what they thought. Was he crazy? But the very thought made his gut rumble oddly, so he decided not to. They’d never believe him, anyway.

But there was one thing he had to sort out. He grabbed his phone.

‘Dad?’

‘Michael.’ His father’s voice always sounded deep and serious, even when he was yelling at the football.

Michael swallowed hard and thought about what Dave would have done, how Dave would have handled this situation. ‘I want to apologise.’

His father made a muffled sound of surprise and was then silent.

Thanks for making this easy on me, Dad.

Michael looked around the car, as if he’d find inspiration for what to say next somewhere on the dashboard. As if to help him, the sun emerged suddenly from behind dark clouds, and a piece of brown paper sticking out from the compartment between the seats caught his eye.

Michael grabbed for the crumpled paper bag. The deck of angel cards that he’d bought at Mel’s store came tumbling out, and cards scattered everywhere. Michael swore under his breath. So much for divine guidance.

‘Is everything okay, son?’ his father asked.

‘Yeah, I just . . .’ Michael broke off as he noticed two cards that had somehow stuck, face up, next to the gear stick. Propped up, as if someone had put them on display.

The archangel, Michael. And a card with a garden scene that simply read, ‘Guardian Angel’.

Tears sprang to Michael’s eyes, unbidden. He didn’t believe in this stuff, he reminded himself. Except for the evidence he’d seen with his very own eyes.

Did he have ‘guardian angel Dave’ looking out for him? The idea was preposterous and yet . . . it made all the sense in the world. Dave had always been there to look out for him. Perhaps his big brother wasn’t going to let a little thing like death stand in the way? That’d be just like him.

Michael smiled and wiped his cheek.

‘Dad, I want to apologise. I still don’t understand what happened with the Johnstone file . . .’ He was tempted to add, ‘because you wouldn’t let me find out’, but he looked at the guardian angel card and stopped himself.

‘But,’ he continued, ‘I know that I haven’t been on my game these past few months. Since Dave —’ That familiar locked-up feeling in his throat was back.

‘I know, Michael.’ His father’s voice was as soft as Michael had ever heard it. ‘I miss him so much, too.’

Michael clenched his lips between his teeth, willing himself to continue with this conversation. He had to. He picked up the two cards from where they sat and rubbed them between his fingers.

‘I want—’ Michael’s voice broke, but he sucked in a deep breath and found the strength to continue. ‘I want the chance to prove to you that I’m good at what I do. As good as Dave.’

‘I already know you’re good at what you do.’

‘What?’

‘You’re very good at what you do. And as for being as good as Dave – you do know that you’re better than he ever was, right? Not that he wasn’t a great accountant, he was – methodical, structured, by-the-book. But you’ve got a spark, a creative and risk-taking nature that he didn’t. It gives you an edge that Dave never had.’

Michael was shocked into silence. That reading from Mel, when she’d been apparently talking to the spirits – his grandmother, or whoever – had said his father was proud of him. Michael had never believed it until now.

‘I . . . Thank you,’ he eventually managed to say.

‘As for you being on leave – your mother and Annie and I were all just concerned for you. We wanted you to have some time to work things out. Dave’s passing,’ his father’s voice wobbled a bit as he said that, ‘was somehow hardest on you. You needed a break.’

‘I get that now. But I’m ready to come back to work.’

‘Not yet. Beginning of July, okay? Take time. Get your head sorted. It’ll all still be here waiting for you. Come back refreshed.’

Michael should have known his stubborn father wouldn’t cave after something as simple as a heart-to-heart. Anger rose inside him but the cards he’d been rubbing together suddenly gave him a little static electric shock.

Thanks, Dave.

‘Yeah, okay. First of July.’ It wasn’t right. It didn’t make it okay that they’d hidden the news of Dave’s illness from him. But maybe, just maybe, it was a step towards forgiveness. Michael slipped the two angel cards into his pocket.

‘Excellent. Now, will we see you for lunch on Sunday? Your mother’s cooking lamb roast.’

Michael made his way home after cleaning up the cards and returning them to their pack. He was determined to make the most of the next ten days or so before he went back to work. He was going to enjoy this vacation time just as his father had instructed.

Starting with a nice glass of Scotch. Then he’d figure everything else out – like magic and mind-reading and their associated mystery. And what the hell he’d do about the blonde-haired gypsy who’d turned his life inside out.

The intercom buzzer startled him as he was pouring his drink.
Who could that be?
Probably someone trying to sell him electricity or something – he was tempted to ignore it. But he wasn’t built that way. If it was a salesperson, he’d just hang up.

‘Hello?’

‘Michael? It’s Mel. Can I come up? I want to talk to you.’

The sound of her voice made his heart leap and his stomach sink. He yearned for her, but he was still angry. Angry to have been made a fool of. To have been kept in the dark about her real life, her real world.

‘
Please
, Michael? Let’s not leave it like this.’

He also didn’t want to leave things the way they were – he didn’t want another unsatisfactory ending in his life. But he’d thought she’d give him more time to pull himself together.

‘I’m not ready yet,’ he began.

‘I’m not ready, either,’ she said quickly, before he could say anything further. ‘But I’ve wasted a whole heap of my life waiting for things to get better. I don’t want to wait any longer.’

He sighed. Yeah, he knew what it was to have wasted time waiting for things to get better.

Michael stared at the button on the intercom. It felt more
inevitable
than a
choice
when he reached out to press it and let her into the building. He’d really never been going to turn her away.

He realised the instant she was in his apartment that he’d made a mistake. There was no way he could hold on to his anger while she was here like this. She still smelled of sunshine and flowers. Her hair was still in that messy ponytail. Her tight jeans and flowing blouse reminded him of the delicious treasures within. Whatever she said, it wasn’t fundamentally going to matter. It wasn’t going to stop him from falling in love with her.

‘I didn’t mean to turn your world upside down, Michael,’ she said.

He shook his head and sat down heavily on the sofa. He still needed answers. ‘Tell me. Tell me it all, from the beginning.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yes, I need to understand.’

‘Even the magic stuff?’

‘Especially the magic stuff.’

Mel perched on the coffee table, facing him, just out of touching distance. She looked solemn but determined. ‘I was forbidden to tell you. The Magic Council has strict rules. I’m not allowed to reveal my talents to anyone outside our community. You can understand why.’

‘Yeah, I get it.’ And he did. But it was just another example of him being left out of critical information. Of it being assumed by others that he couldn’t handle the news. Whether it was his family, or Mel, or this Magic Council she was talking about.

‘Michael, I need you to know that I’ve never done this before.’

‘Done what?’

‘Been with someone that I . . . that I cared about.’

Michael’s breath caught. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? ‘Do you mean you’d never . . . You were
a virgin
?’

She flushed. ‘No. No, not that. It’s just . . . The Magic Council has rules about what I’m allowed to do because I’m a psychic-seer. I’m only allowed to have relationships with other people from the magic community. If it’s someone outside that, I’m not allowed to develop any kind of
attachment
.’

He thought he got it. ‘Ah. So one-night stands but nothing more?’

Her blush deepened a little and she looked away. ‘Exactly.’

‘Is that why you ran out of here last night?’

She met his eyes again, and he could see her plea for understanding. ‘Yes. That’s it. And it’s why I wasn’t sure if we should spend more time together – because I was developing an attachment.’

‘You were falling in love with me,’ Michael said. He’d overheard her in the shop telling the old lady exactly that.

She gave him a cautious, beautiful smile. ‘Yeah.’

Michael looked over at the surfboard standing on proud display. ‘When Dave died . . .’ he began. Could he do this? Tell her this? Something inside him told him that he
needed
to.

‘When Dave died, he’d been sick for about six months. But he kept it a secret. He didn’t tell the family until after I’d left for my trip to South America. And together they decided it would “ruin” my holiday if they told me while I was away. So I came home, all full of stories and handing out trashy souvenirs, and Dave’s hair was already gone. I lost six weeks of time with him. And then he was gone. Three weeks later.’

He balled his hands into fists at the memory. He could still taste the bitterness of returning home to find his brother a pale shadow of the man he’d farewelled.

‘Oh, Michael.’

‘It doesn’t sound like much – six weeks. But out of six months, it’s a lot. And out of the nine weeks we had between him telling the family and, and . . . passing away, it’s even more. Sixty-six per cent! Two-thirds! Dave said he didn’t want to spoil my trip. But I’m pretty sure he thought it was because I couldn’t handle it. And . . .’ Now came the sucker punch to the gut. The guilt that had snuck in with his grief. ‘And he didn’t want to have to deal with
me
, my grief, while he was dying.’

Mel leaned forward and reached out to squeeze his knee. Michael caught her hand under his, keeping her there.

‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

Michael shook his head. He’d analysed the situation from a million different viewpoints, and that was the only thing that made sense.

‘What . . . what happened in the reading?’ she asked. ‘What made you leave so abruptly?’

He shrugged a shoulder. ‘You said . . . you said it was a gift from him. That he wanted me to enjoy my trip.’

Mel smiled. ‘I didn’t know your brother,’ she said gently. ‘But I get the impression he was a pretty great guy. Which sounds more like something he would do? Shut you out from something important because he wanted you to enjoy life? Or shut you out because he didn’t want to have to deal with you?’

When she put it that way . . .

That was totally Dave. So fucking selfless.

He reached into his pocket and took out the two angel cards. He put them on the table and Mel gave him a strange look but didn’t ask.

He swallowed hard. It was going to take time for him to incorporate a potentially new way of looking at things into his life. He couldn’t do it all at once. Besides, that was the past. There were some things about the present – and potential future – that more urgently required sorting out.

He squeezed Mel’s hand. ‘Now I want to hear about your secrets.’

‘I didn’t
want
to keep this a secret from you, Michael. I was playing by somebody else’s rules.’

‘I know. But —’

‘And I didn’t keep it from you because I didn’t think you could handle it. On the contrary. Here I am. Telling you things I’ve never told anyone in my life before. I’m telling you because I desperately believe you can handle it.’ Her lips quivered as she smiled. ‘I need to believe it.’

Michael gripped her hand under his more tightly. She was delicate and fragile and here she was, laying herself bare to him. Should he be angry at her for keeping secrets? Or should he be grateful to her for sharing them?

‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘All of it.’

Mel swallowed hard. She’d never revealed herself like this to anyone before. Aunt Gertrude had made sure Michael couldn’t blab, but even still, finding the words to explain herself, her life, was like digging through an old, dusty trunk and trying to holding up fragile dried flower petals to the light. Mel wasn’t sure if she might just disintegrate from the inspection.

‘I found out I was a psychic-seer when I was about fourteen. Like most witches and other magical people, that’s when my powers started to manifest.’

Michael opened his mouth but then closed it again.

‘What?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘No. I’m not going to ask questions. I have too many. Tell me your story and I’ll ask about the rest of it all later.’

‘Good idea.’ And a relief. It was hard enough telling her own story. She didn’t want to have to give the potted history of the entire magical community along with it.

She pulled her hand out from Michael’s grasp, but only so she could twist her own fingers together.

‘It’s pretty unusual to be a psychic-seer, even in our community. They’re very rare. I was put into special training as soon as my powers became evident.’