Halfway Hexed (33 page)

“You and Bryn Lyons have yourselves to thank for the salt. You told the mayor and the city council to get in the way of our property acquisition.”

“That’s because you’ve got no right to scare people into selling their homes! This isn’t your town!” I snapped.

“It is if we buy it. We’ll be happy to return the mayor and his people to their rightful form once we’re finished convincing your neighbors to leave.”

I glared at her, opening the door. Merc hopped out and I followed him. I bent forward to look inside at her. “We’re not going to let that happen.”

She smiled. “Then pick a spice. Do you like curry? Or perhaps you’d do better as a pile of hot pepper flakes.”

I gasped and slammed the door, then hurried over to the gate and buzzed Steve. “Let me in,” I said, flicking off the gun’s safety. She wasn’t turning me into a pepper pile, and she wasn’t following me onto Bryn’s property either.

Mrs. Thornton didn’t even wait for the gates to open. She just smiled, inclined her head, and drove off, cool as winter.

I was still shaking my head when Mercutio and I walked into Bryn’s house. I called out, but didn’t hear them. The security phone on the kitchen wall rang, and I picked it up.

“They’re in the yard,” Steve said. He’d obviously seen me on the security cameras, looking around and calling out. Turns out when I’m not nearly naked or sneaking into a room I’m not supposed to be in, the security cameras can actually come in handy.

“Okey dokey. Thanks,” I said, waving Merc over to the back door. We walked outside, but I only got a few feet from the house before I stopped. Most of the time I can’t see or feel magic, and except for chocolate sculptures and cake decorating, not too much stops me in my tracks with wonder, but Bryn and Andre’s work did. There was an area of about a thousand square feet dotted with white lanterns and strung with cascades of tiny white and blue lights. Crystals hung from tree branches, sparkling like diamonds, and the smell of sandalwood and roses wafted through the silky air. A haunting melody played softly and male voices murmured in German and English, intermixed with low chuckles.

I glanced down to see what Merc thought of this modern wizard’s garden party, but he’d left my side and was racing around the lit square, leaping and pawing the lights and basically doing some kind of kitty jig.

“Wow,” I said, limping over to where Bryn and Andre were securing a huge chunk of rock crystal so that it hung from a tree limb in the center of things.

Andre smiled. “Nice, yes?”

I nodded.

He hooked my arm through his and took me on a tour of the stars and galaxies as they’d been laid out on the ground. Meanwhile Bryn had climbed a ladder and was flinging something on the swags of white netting that hung over the area.

‟What’s he doing?” I asked.

“Scattering dirt and herbs. This is to represent the Earth. We have reversed things. Earth above. Stars below. To use both kinds of magic. Celestial and elemental for each of you.”

“Well, even if it doesn’t work, it’s sure pretty.” I walked to the ladder and waited for Bryn to come down.

‟What happened to your leg?” he asked when he was standing in front of me.

“Got into a tangle with a fence. I was trying to fly over it, but didn’t quite make it.”

“Gravity, she is a tough mistress,” Andre said. “Nine-point-eight meters per seconds squared. It does not sound like much, but how it pulls.” He rambled in German for a few seconds.

“We’ve got a problem. The Conclave’s turned some people to salt. I think before we do anything else, we’d better turn them back to human.”

“Organic matter into inorganic matter?” Andre said. I could tell by his tone he was skeptical.

‟Turned them to salt?” Bryn echoed. “That can’t be.”

“I saw it.”

“If they really have been altered in that way, undoing it will take the kind of power that is nearly immeasurable. To build that kind of power . . .” He blew out a breath. “Let’s hope that the prophecy allows you to trust me because we will certainly need to be magically bonded to attempt a spell that changes one form of matter into another. The bond will need to be strong and permanent.”

I took a step back, licking my lips. My stomach and muscles tightened. My body was saying yes, even though my mind was saying: hold on, not until we know what the prophecy says.

“Well,” I said, clasping my hands together. “They did it somehow without a magical marriage. We should be able to do it, too. I shrunk Jenna to mini-Barbie size. My power should be enough right? You can draw it off like you do and cast a counterspell.”

Andre clucked his tongue.

‟What?” I asked.

“It wouldn’t be so simple as you think. Ask him to swallow a lightning bolt. This would be easier than what you propose,” Andre said.

“But they did it. If I get you the original spell so you could see how it was done, then could you undo it?” I asked.

Bryn shrugged. “Maybe, but how would you get the original spell?”

“I’ll have to steal it for you.”

Bryn stared at me. “You’re not immortal, you know. You almost died last week, remember?”

“I know. My memory’s not all photographic like yours, but those little things like nearly getting killed tend to stick in my mind.”

Bryn’s gaze swiveled to Mercutio and then back to me. “I can’t figure out if you’re getting more bold because you’ve survived the past couple of weeks. Or if there might be another reason. Like a growing attachment to your cat. As predators go, big cats are the top of the food chain. They don’t really know fear. It could be influencing you. Or maybe it’s the fact that some of your dormant genes were unleashed.”

“I’m not fearless!” I said. “I’m just practical. These Duvall people are my people. I can’t just let them get turned into Spice Girls . . . and guys. Whatever I have to do to get that undone, I’ll do, whether it’s scary or not.”

Bryn nodded. ‟Whatever it takes?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s find out what that prophecy says because if we enter into a spell to turn salt sculptures into people, there will be no going back for you and me. We’ll be connected to each other for good.”

I shivered. “So, time travel first. Then robbery. Then . . . whatever comes next.”

Chapter 32

When Bryn told me that I’d have to be naked except for a bolt of purple silk fashioned into a kind of toga, I decided we’d have to be alone in the yard, well except for Mercutio. Andre went to the library to do research on transfiguration spells.

Bryn turned off the security cameras for the grounds and changed into dark pajama bottoms and a black bathrobe. Swathed in purple silk, I followed him outside to the backyard star chart.

He positioned me between two lanterns, and I was happy to have the heat they gave off. It was so darn cold out, you could almost forget you were in Texas. The wind kicked up and drops of rain dripped from the dark sky.

“You’re on Orion’s belt,” Bryn murmured as he took a position behind me. ‟What I want you to do is picture your aunt’s house. If you can get your mind in that place while I cast, the spell should take you to the right moment.”

“Do I need to do an incantation?”

“No, I’ll do it. You’re the energy. I’m the anchor. You’ll travel with a metaphysical tether to me.”

“Won’t that hold me back?”

“We’ll find out, but don’t let go of my hands, Tamara. Whatever happens, hang on to me. If this spell doesn’t work, we can try another, so long as you’re not hurt in the process.”

“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath.

He shrugged off the robe and tossed it out of the decorated area.

“Maybe the prophecy was that we’d die of exposure while trying to do a time-travel spell,” I joked. “Wouldn’t that be ironic?”

“Yes,” he said, stepping close to me so that his chest pressed against my back. I felt his body heat and lean muscles through the thin layer of silk. He positioned my hands to my sides, slightly behind me, and laced our fingers together.

He brought his mouth close to me, his voice tickling my ear. “Look at the rock crystal and concentrate on your aunt’s house. Picture what she described. Picture it all around you.”

I stared at the hanging rock, seeing a reflection that wasn’t actually there, myself and Bryn over my shoulder, black hair touching red. Lights flickered in the wind. Cut crystals swayed and sparkled. His words in soft Gaelic mixed with the music.

My vision blurred, and I smelled perfume, sharp and sexy. I strained my eyes, trying to get them to focus, but everything seemed fragmented, like long shards of broken glass. I turned toward a voice I recognized.

Edie!

“How could she prefer
The Covered Wagon
to Valentino in the
Four Horsemen
? Dumb Dora,” she said. The voice softened, and I floated toward it. The images shifted so they weren’t so much shattered as watery.

I pursued her voice. The carpet under her feet was deep red and edged with a gold border. Her dress was dark blue or maybe black with gold embroidery and crystal beads. The back had delicate swirls and circles around a central circle. Below the low waist, there were horizontal patterns of solid lines alternating with twisted swirls of beads. The bottom of the gown was asymmetrical, creating scallops of fabric that skimmed the floor. Her shoes were like old-fashioned clogs, but daintier, with a square pattern, like a witch’s buckle, on the front.

She slowed, but I didn’t, and, the next moment, a rush of air stole my breath and the colors vibrated around me as I saw them through her eyes. She gasped and stumbled. The world whirled as we fell backward. Toward the stairs!

The momentum took us, but her voice, sharp and scared, snapped, “Cradle catch.”

A thrust of energy pushed us to the side, and her hand caught a rung of the banister, jerking us to a stop. She turned her head, and I saw down the stairs, at least twenty of them, to the marble checkerboard floor where we would’ve probably cracked our head or broken our neck.

“Out,” she hissed, and a vacuum of air sucked me out of her body, leaving me cold and confused. “Grasping little bitch,” she whispered, narrowing her clear green eyes as she twisted her legs around to get them under her. She kept her white-knuckled grip on the banister as she crawled up the stairs, looking carefully from side to side like she was trying to spot me. I was inexplicably drawn to her. The lights had been so bright and warm. I wanted back in.

“No spirit rides me. Try that again and I’ll trap you in a hell you’ve never imagined.”

Despite the warning, I floated nearer, which was scary, because I couldn’t seem to control the way I moved. She glared and raised a hand. I edged closer, still not able to stop myself.

Help! Help me!

I felt a sharp pain, like a knife slicing me, but it pulled me backward, away from her.

Edie grimaced, touching her glossy finger-waved black hair. Her black-lined green eyes were almond shaped and beautiful, but deadly calculating. A Park Avenue Cleopatra.

She walked carefully but quickly to a door. I followed, very slowly. She entered the room and slammed the door. I passed through it, into a pretty-as-a-picture bedroom.

A porcelain-faced doll with auburn hair lay on the covers of a high four-poster bed. The cream-colored dressing table had panels painted with delicate branches and birds. The silver-handled hairbrush and cosmetics had been pushed to one side to make room for a journal. A woman sat in the table’s matching chair, bending over the book, writing with a fountain pen. I could see her face in the gilded mirror. Edie’s face, but softer. The waves in her long dark hair were natural, not coiffed, and she wore no makeup, which made her look young and fresh. Her teal green dress was high-waisted with a gold braided cord that laced the bodice together.

“Did I leave my cigarette case in here, Nor?” Edie asked.

Lenore didn’t look up from her writing. “Yes, as you well know, since you did it on purpose.”

Edie sighed as if very put out. “What if I did? If that little fiend found it in here, she wouldn’t give it to Papa. She’d never get
you
in trouble. None of the servants would.”