Mystical Love (55 page)

Brianna's gaze found the clinic dome. Had she entrusted it to an Elder instead? She hoped not; they would keep it hidden from her—at least until they had deemed her magical skills suitable. A bead of sweat trickled down the front of her bra, and she grimaced. She needed to find a cool place to hibernate until Devlin and Tommy returned from the clearing. She heard the tinkle of a shop bell, and saw a couple entering the Tea Room Cafe a few storefronts ahead. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of food, and she headed for the door.

Not to her surprise, the cafe was half empty when she stepped inside. She let the glass door slide into place behind her, spotting an empty table at the rear of the diner. Maneuvering past the front register and three occupied tables, she gave only a brief glance towards the hovering cashier at the counter. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until she caught the appetizing smells emanating from the small kitchen.

Reaching the rear area, Brianna plopped down and crossed her arms on the table. It felt good to be indoors and out of the stifling heat. In less than fifteen seconds, the female cashier was alongside her chair, pencil and pad in hand. Her greeting was friendly.

“Hello, Brianna.”

Brianna glanced up, attempting to put a name to the face.

“My God, Marla, is that you?” She sprang to her feet, embracing the woman with a warm bear hug. Surprised by the overture, the plump woman pulled back, giving Brianna a bright smile.

“It's me alright—all one hundred and sixty pounds of me.” She patted her round midriff. “There's more of me than when you last saw me, huh?”

“And it's a good thing,” Brianna stated, slipping back into her seat. She scanned Marla's face. “I'm glad to see you suffered no lasting effects from the Dark Time. You do know Devlin and I are extremely sorry about what happened that day.”

“Hey, you don't have to tell me that. Prior to the bad part, I was having the time of my life. I never felt as alive as in that circle. Everything around us was brighter; colors more vivid, smells more memorable, and my energy was definitely off the chart. There are moments when I long to feel that way again, but . . .” She shrugged leaving the rest of the sentence hanging. “Now, what can I get you to drink? You must be famished in this desert heat.”

“Do you still serve that terrific strawberry cooler?”

“It's the best seller on the menu.”

“And those great veggie pitas?”

“Still on the menu, too.”

“I'll have one of each.”

Marla scribbled the order on her pad, and then scrutinized Brianna's face.

“I'm sorry about your mother. If there's anything I can do to help, you must tell me. I owe a debt of gratitude to her.”

“There
is
something,” Brianna said. “Mother didn't happen to give you a package to keep for her, did she? A package that might've been square, like a book?”

“Why, no, but isn't she more likely to give one of the Elders a package like that?”

“I suppose,” Brianna answered, biting her lip.

“I wish I could help,” Marla murmured. “Your mother was instrumental in my taking over the management of the Tea Room. Without her belief in my abilities, I might have left the commune the same as you, and wound up alone and miserable . . . oh dear, that didn't come out right.” She glanced down at Brianna's left hand. “Besides, your wedding ring proves that you are certainly not alone . . . or miserable.”

Brianna's fingers found the band and spun it absently.

“I am truly sorry for not staying in touch with you. I have no excuse to offer except that I was in a bad place for such a long time after I left.”

“Hey, I'm not mad at you. Sienna has told me all of the wonderful things she's read about you over the years, and I'm as proud of you as she is. I wish she had told me you were married though. I would've sent you a wedding gift.”

“There's still time.” Brianna smiled. “I haven't been married all that long. I'll give you my address in Washington.”

“It's a done deal,” she grinned. She flashed her notepad at Brianna. “I'll be back shortly with the drink.”

She moved away, leaving Brianna to her own shadowed thoughts. The Dark Time had ruined so many lives. And all because of one careless, stupid mistake . . . she banished the thought. Better to think on the mistakes she might be making now.

Propping her elbows on the table, she rested her chin on her raised hands. She hoped Devlin and Tommy were having better luck with their search than she was. If they found no trace of the amulet, she would be forced to focus on Rufus Lord as the sinner. As Third Elder, he would have the knowledge and skills to conjure a debilitating spell and hide it under a title. Brianna glanced at her watch. One fifteen. What was keeping Devlin and Tommy?

“Here you go,” Marla said, arriving at the table with her drink. She placed the glass in front of Brianna. “Your sandwich will be out soon.”

“We'll have what Brianna's having,” Devlin declared, plopping into an empty seat at the table, and flashing Marla a smile. The woman looked startled at his familiar greeting, but held off replying as Tommy's rotund figure dropped into the second empty chair with a grunt.

“That drink looks positively refreshing. Can you bring me
two
glasses? I'm overheated.”

There was a trace of laughter in Brianna's voice as she addressed Marla.

“It's alright, Marla. They're with me.” She lifted her hand in Devlin's direction. “In case you haven't guessed, that's Devlin Janus.”

“Devlin?” Her glance trailed across his face, studying the contours. “Why, it
is
you. How are you?”

He flashed her one of his boyish grins, and Brianna wondered what Marla's reaction would be if she mentioned the wedding ring on her finger had been placed there by Devlin. Tommy's apology drove the thought away.

“We're running late. So sorry for putting you out. Are we forgiven?”

Marla smiled at his toothy apology and nodded, rushing off again towards the counter. Brianna waited a moment before addressing the pair.

“Well?”

Pulling his cell phone from his shirt pocket, Tommy called up several photos, and handed the phone off to Brianna.

“The amulet was buried inside the circle,” Devlin stated, as she clicked through the images.

Brianna's head shot up.

“Inside? That means Mother buried it, not her attacker.”

“Which also means she shielded the amulet so its energy wouldn't go underground and be neutralized.”

“And that's not all we found,” Tommy added. “We found a piece of twine threaded within the circle border—across the front portion. If Devlin hadn't used your mother's amulet as a dowsing rod, we'd still be sweating our balls off down there.” He flushed immediately. “Sorry. That was rude.”

Brianna swept his apology away, her anger overriding her sensibility.

“They have lied to us,” she exclaimed. She slammed the phone down on the tablecloth and caught Devlin's gaze. “Someone on the Council knows exactly what happened in that circle and is attempting to cover it up.” She bolted to her feet, and Devlin snatched her wrist, keeping her in place.

“Sit down,” he ordered. “And lower your voice. We need time to adjust our thinking.”

Brianna pulled her wrist from his grasp, rubbing the area where his fingers had clamped.

“I mean it, Devlin, one of the Council members is behind this.” Her eyes flashed with outrage. “Mark my words, in less than an hour the Elders are going to feel the wrath of a very pissed off High Priestess.”

“Sit down and stop making a spectacle of yourself. You're drawing attention to the table.”

Brianna glanced around, noting the surprised expression of the other diners as they sat studying her awkward posture of flight. She sank back down, lowering her voice and leaning in to the two men.

“As soon as I invoke the Weaving, I'm going to browbeat every single member of the Council until one of them confesses their sin.”

Devlin's mood veered sharply.

“What you're going to do is soften your image,” he stressed. Her mouth opened and he held up a finger. “I'm not talking as your husband now, but as your High Priest. You need to lose the shirt and jeans and don a traditional coven gown. You cannot direct the ceremony dressed like a modern-day business woman. The Weaving will take finesse on your part, not bold accusations.”

“And let whoever is responsible continue to pull the wool over our eyes?” Brianna groused.

“If that's what it takes, yes.”

“I don't like it.”

“But as the current High Priestess of this Coven, you will take the sage advice of your High Priest, and do it anyway. I cannot allow you to browbeat any member of the coven just because you've seen a damned photo. Now, start acting like the High Priestess your mother raised you to be, and come up with a sensible plan that doesn't get any of us killed in the next hour.”

“Here now,” Tommy intervened. “The children don't like it when Mom and Dad fight.”

“That's not funny, Tommy,” Brianna groused.

“And neither are the insults you two are trading. Besides, we all want the same thing here.” He looked back and forth between the pair. “Don't we?”

“Of course,” Brianna answered. Her fingers found Tommy's. “Mom and Dad are finished fighting now.” Her gaze found Devlin's. “Any problems in the clearing?”

“We left the place as we found it.”

“You're sure? The Elders will notice any suspicious clumps in the ground.”

“Relax. It was just us, and the damn cat.”

“Nicodemus was there?”

“Yes. That precious cat of yours pointed the way . . . now, why are you frowning?”

“Because you're asking me to wear a ceremonial gown for the Weaving when I no longer own one.”

Devlin flicked his fingers at her.

“Borrow one from your mother, and do something with your hair—something magical. If you remember your lessons in spell making, clothes make the Priestess. Besides, I've waited a long time to see you decked out like a Fairy Queen. You wouldn't want to disappoint your husband, now would you?”

“Certainly not,” Brianna said, gritting her teeth. “I've been waiting a long time to cast a spell on him that can't be reversed, and this seems like the perfect opportunity for that.”

She heard Tommy's familiar chuckle, followed by Devlin's boyish laugh.

“You're years too late, Rapunzel. You've already cast a spell on me that can't be reversed.”

Brianna sensed that odd pull of her energy again. Devlin's eyes were boldly appraising her and she felt her heart ache under her breast. Or was it Nicodemus, who was close by; she could feel the pull of his aura as well. She shook off both magnetisms.

“If I had been able to find mother's journal—which I didn't, by the way,” she said, “thanks for asking. I could reconstruct her spell. I'd be able to manifest the same conditions that took her down.”

A heated growl sliced the air.

“Don't make me cast a binding spell on you.”

She flashed her hand in front of Devlin's face.

“Stop! I was only joking. Besides, there is simply no time to construct a proper counter spell.” Her eyebrows rose. “I thought you wanted me to act more docile and unassuming, and now that I am trying to be, you're against it.”

“That's because there is no possible way for you to be docile and unassuming for very long. We'll think of something else.” Devlin pointed to her glass. “Now drink your fizzy and cool off.”

“Yes, dear,” Brianna replied, picking up her glass, and taking a swig. Devlin's mumble was barely audible.

“Give me the strength not to hex her, Tommy.”

His chuckle came, along with Marla and their sandwiches. Before long, the only discernible sound at the table was a series of long, contented sighs.

Devlin popped the last morsel of pita into his mouth and gave one final sigh. The sandwich had restored his energy completely. He glanced at his table companions and noticed the change in their expressions as they finished the final crumbs of their sandwiches. Funny, how food tended to satisfy all forms of hunger—mental as well as physical.

His gaze focused on Brianna, surprised to find her studying the wall hangings as she nursed a second strawberry cooler. Was she attempting to restore old memories of the place? He glanced around. Little changes had been made here and there, and the room exuded a more homey essence than it used to. Devlin was sure the transformation was due to Marla's charming skills with needle and thread.

An over-loud sigh emanated from beside him, and Devlin turned his head.

“Now, that's what I call a sandwich,” Tommy remarked, patting his stomach.

“Better than ten tacos and a margarita?” Devlin asked, amused by his childish gesture.

“Much better. And what is in this red drink that makes it so friggin' good?”

“We could tell you, but then we'd have to kill you,” Devlin remarked, reaching back and digging into his jeans pocket. He whipped out his wallet, hearing a pleased chuckle greet his sarcasm.

“This commune does have shades of the gangster lifestyle, if you think about it,” Tommy stated. “No alcohol served anywhere, Elders who hold the power of Godfathers, gang rivalry. Shall I go on?”

Across the table, Brianna shivered in disgust.

“No, the comparison is too real.” She picked up their earlier conversation. “What have you done with the amulet and twine?”

“They're perfectly safe,” Devlin replied. He saw her mouth open. “No, I'm not telling you where we've stashed them. I know you. If you have the amulet, you'll use it. You'll design some counter-spell in secret with it. And then you'll hunt Nicodemus down and merge your powers with his. I can't allow that—without a discussion first.”