Rite of Passage (10 page)

“See you at dinner,” she called, wearing the special look I loved. “Don’t you dare be late.” She giggled.

I threw the tube on the bed and lay down next to it, picturing Courtney and her new hairdo. As if she wasn’t adorable enough. I sighed and closed my eyes.

A soft knocking sounded on the door.

“Robert.” It was her again. “Let me in.”

I sat up, half asleep. “What is it?” I asked.

“Did you use the sunburn cream?” she whispered.

“No, but I will.” I stood and headed to the door. I opened it a crack. She pushed past me.

“You’ll never do it properly.” She sounded like a nursemaid. “Take off your robe and lie on the bed.” She waved me to the bed. “I promise not to compromise your manly virtue.” She grinned. “Go ahead.”

I looked around and shook my head. “But Courtney,” I protested.

“Oh, don’t be such a ninny. Lie down,” she persisted.

“All right.” I gave in.

She poured some of the aromatic cream on her thin, supple hands and rubbed them together. Then, with the delicacy of a masseuse, she rubbed the cool, soothing liquid on my back. A sweet, intoxicating smell drifted to my nostrils.

“My God.” I sighed as she applied it.

She stopped and withdrew her hands. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Just fine,” I managed in a whisper.

She leaned over, a few inches from my face, her damp, fragrant hair hanging, touching my cheek. She came closer, her scent filling the space around us. Her lips were so close.

“You’re sure?” she asked, a delicious smile materializing as her warm breath caressed my face.

I nodded. Was she naïve or teasing me? I wasn’t sure. She resumed the sensuous rub. I was silent, letting her long, fluid fingers wreak havoc. After a few minutes, she took more cream and began to massage my legs.

I pulled her hands away. “Don’t, Courtney. Please.”

“Why?” she questioned.

“I…I think it might be a good idea if you left.”

She stopped and leaned close, whispering in my ear as she touched it with her lips. “But I don’t want to leave, not now, not ever…not ever…not ever…” Her words echoed.

I awoke from the dream with a start. I saw by my watch it was 2:20. As I ran to the shower to rinse off, I smelled Courtney’s jasmine scent. But that was ridiculous. It had been a dream. Vivid, but still a dream. I threw on a polo shirt, some cotton slacks, and my shoes, grabbed my car keys, and headed out the door to meet Michael.

As I passed through the courtyard, a few guests relaxed around the pool. I threw the cover off the Jag and in thirty seconds I was down the gravel driveway heading to Boone’s Bar and Grill. I was terrified thinking about what my brother had found out about the girl I loved.

Chapter Fifteen

At 2:50 I pulled into Boone’s Bar and Grill. Michael waited outside, lost in thought, and smoking a cigarette as he paced in front of the entrance.

“Hi, Mike.” We shook hands.

“Let’s go inside.” He nodded, glancing at me as he crushed the cigarette out.

I followed him into the hazy interior. A few customers sat on wooden stools, feet resting on a worn brass foot rail as they stared into the foggy mirror behind the bar. Conversations centered on the Red Sox, politics, and the world situation. Several nodded at Michael as we entered.

“Let’s sit back here.” He directed me to a table at the rear.

“I haven’t got much time and there’s a lot to tell. My friends did a good job getting information on such short notice.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Wait till you hear what I have to tell you,” he cautioned. “Some of it’s strange, but remember it is from the locals. Country folk love their folklore.” He found my eyes.

A massive man in a greasy apron waved in our direction.

“Just a Coke for me,” I told Michael.

“Sounds good. Two Cokes,” my brother called.

The bartender nodded with a frown. I assumed his usual clientele ordered something with more hair on its chest.

“All right, here goes.”

I lit a cigarette while my stomach did flips. Michael’s gray eyes searched the room before finding mine again. “Courtney’s mother, Ellen, was beautiful, a champion equestrienne, and heir to a large fortune.” He leaned forward. “When she visited England for a riding competition in the mid-twenties, she met a man named Duncan Wellington. He had a fine family name. That was all he had. But he was smooth and handsome. Swept her off her feet.”

“All right.”

“None of Ellen’s family thought much of him, figured Wellington for a gold digger, but she was independent and headstrong. Anyway, she stayed, let him court her and in a few months they were married.”

I nodded.

“Ellen’s folks were killed in an accident a few months later,” Michael continued. “Wellington had it all: a beautiful bride and her fortune. Thanks to the inheritance, they bought Briarwood, a massive estate in Gloucestershire.”

“So far, so good,” I said, playing with my napkin.

“Things didn’t work out the way Ellen hoped. Wellington was distant, surly. He traveled a lot, building an export business using her money. No one understood. Ellen was gorgeous and classy. Because she was such a great horsewoman and since Wellington was away so much, the riding circuit became her life.”

“Gretchen told me. Courtney’s followed in her footsteps.”

He held up his hand and looked at his watch. “Anyway, somewhere she met a man named Courtney Phillips. Great horseman, interesting family background.” He paused, eyebrows raised. “Dark, handsome, and mysterious.”

“You did say
Courtney
Phillips?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He stopped for a minute and lit another cigarette. “Apparently the big fights between Ellen and her husband were about children. Ellen wanted a family, but Duncan…” Michael stopped and looked away. “Had other ideas. Some even suggest he had, you know, performance problems.” Michael shook his head. “Maybe that’s why he was away so much. So when Ellen had a beautiful baby girl in June of 1926, the countryside buzzed.”

“So then Courtney is named for…” I stopped in midsentence, understanding Wellington’s bitterness
.

“Her real father.” He stopped and shook his head, then held up his hand. “I need a scotch over here,” he called to the bartender.

My throat tightened.

“There’s more, and this is where it gets strange.”

“Go on,” I whispered.

“On the day
your
Courtney was born, Phillips died in a car crash. Hit a tree. He and the car burned to a cinder. Some thought it was for the better. Phillips paid plenty of attention to Ellen but he was…let’s just say he wasn’t a nice guy. In some ways he was worse than Wellington.”

“All that must have devastated her mother. First Wellington and then this character.”

He nodded, grabbing my forearm. “Here’s where the strange part really begins. Phillips and his family came from a long line of witches.”

“Witches?” I asked. “Come on, Michael.”

“Look, I’m telling you what they say.” He shrugged. “Don’t shoot the messenger. The real power was Phillip’s father, a man named Simon. He’s still alive, and if you believe this stuff, the most powerful male witch in Europe. But he had no use for his son. Simon’s a class act. Elegant, regal, a real gentleman, even descended from royalty. He was ashamed of his son, disowned him before Courtney was born. “

“Courtney mentioned him.” I sat, shaking my head. “Do you believe any of this? Do your friends?”

He shrugged. “Let me finish. You remember the newspaper articles?”

I nodded, not sure I wanted to hear more.

“Well, during Courtney’s lifetime, there have been other mysterious deaths. Friends, staff on the estate, a teacher she was close to. She’s always close by, but there’s no evidence she’s involved—just a terrified witness. Her best friend drowned while they were swimming, her favorite groom was burned to death in a stable fire, and her mother was killed by a freak lightning strike. There were rumors of strange signs near the bodies. Signs that indicate witchcraft.”

I heard the words but found it difficult to believe. “Have the local police investigated?”

He nodded. “They’ve looked at everyone close to her: the father, nanny, staff, even Ellen until she was killed. None of them were nearby or had a motive.”

Michael was silent for a minute, then continued. “Except to keep Courtney isolated. Don’t you see? Everyone who gets close to her gets killed.”

A shiver ran through me as I realized the implication. “I don’t know what to say. Are you suggesting that because she and I are…?”

“I’m not suggesting anything.” Michael looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go. But there’s something here none of us understand, and you’re right in the middle of it. “

“I appreciate what you’ve found. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Understood, brother. Neither would I. Look, they’re still searching so I may have some more.”

“Thanks. I want to know everything.”

“Rob, what are you going to do?” Michael asked as he stood to leave.

I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

He took my arm. “Just suppose you found out Courtney really was…something else?”

I took out a five-dollar bill and paid the check.

“I don’t know. There are times I’m sorry I ever met Courtney, but then I see her and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Michael asked as we left. A lot of what he’d told me was beyond strange.

I shook Michael’s hand. “I’ll be all right.” I stood, looking in the direction of Jon and Gretchen’s. “I just need some time to get my mind around this.”

Michael nodded. “I wanted to make your problem easier, to help you decide what to do.” He shook his head. “I’ve only made it worse.”

“No, you did what I asked. Now it’s up to me. Call if you find out anything else.” I forced a smile.

I headed to my car, Michael to his Jeep. We got into our vehicles and waved good-bye. I’d be back at the reunion before five. That gave me a couple hours to think.

I thought about Rachel and the picture-book life I had left behind three days ago. Guilt and misgivings continued to fill my mind. Mystery, suspicious deaths, witchcraft? But whatever strange events or mysteries surrounded Courtney, I wanted to be with her, to help her. I was consumed by the intrigue. Odd things were happening—things I had yet to understand, but nothing would change my need to be part of her life.

Chapter Sixteen

Courtney closed the witch’s circle, ending her meditation. She covered herself with her white robe, assembling her sacred implements as she headed back toward the house. She’d returned to the ritual site to seek guidance. She achieved a deep trance, attempting to find the answers she sought.

Confusion overwhelmed her. She wanted Robbie so much. Not as a vessel to achieve her purpose for the ceremony, but as a woman wants a man. The stirrings he evoked were like nothing she’d ever known. It was all so new, so foreign, so exciting. Nothing had prepared her for the passion that surged through her.

At first she feared she might need her powers to win him. After meeting him she refused. He must be hers, to want her without spells or magic. Now she knew. He wanted her, loved her as much as she did him.

She knew Robbie held a fascination with magic and the occult. But Courtney refused to read his mind. She reveled in the tempting mystery, in not knowing his thoughts.

Could he deal with the truth? He had no way of knowing who and what he really was—one of them, the chosen one selected to be with her. The family had done their job—throwing mysteries and questions in his path. Would he rebel and run away or become her mate?

She reached the house and put her implements away. Tonight and tomorrow were critical. Courtney wanted Robbie. And before Simon arrived tomorrow night, he would be hers.

She studied her image in the mirror. Her feline familiars looked up at her. “Don’t worry,” she assured them with a smile. She’d entice him, continuing to make herself mysterious and irresistible. Courtney
had
invaded his dreams. But that was the extent of her manipulation. Whatever happened between them would result from the incredible attraction they shared. It went against all they’d planned, but Robbie would want her without spells, potions, or magic. Nothing had ever meant so much to her. Courtney closed her eyes. “By this time tomorrow, Robert, you will be mine,” she whispered.

But as she studied her reflection, her thoughts turned to something more ominous—the dark feelings invading her meditations since last night. Her talk with Simon had done nothing to dispel her misgivings. Quite the contrary. Was someone or some force at work to sabotage their preparation? If so, why? Their sole purpose was to help humanity, to insure peace and prosperity, allow mankind freedom from the threat of war, disease, and terror. Courtney’s instincts were never wrong. But something else was. Very wrong. Simon would arrive on Sunday. They needed to find out what and who was at work to undermine their plans.

****

I stood in the shower for a long time, letting the hot water work its magic as I thought about what I’d learned from Michael. The strange deaths, the mysteries, the loneliness surrounding Courtney, even the veiled threats. None of it mattered. Just the opposite. It made me feel closer to her. I found the mystery, the hint of the occult, exciting.

My life had been a romp compared with Courtney’s. At that moment I wanted to take her in my arms, hold her, and tell her she’d never be hurt or lonely again. But what about the questions Michael raised? What about my well-ordered life, Rachel, my influential friends? Suddenly none of it mattered. Not if it meant a life without her. This was no passing flirtation. Being close to Courtney was like standing next to a high tension line. It was electric and energizing. No matter what it meant, there was no turning back, no retreat.

I shaved and dressed in my finest linen suit, a cream colored Brooks Brothers shirt, knit maroon tie, and expensive oxford loafers. Although dinner didn’t start until eight, at seven-twenty I headed to the dining room, hoping she’d be early. Like a vision she stood, looking out the large window fronting on the lake, stunning and elegant in a sleeveless white gown. Its front was subtle but revealing. The lower half of the silky evening dress fell into soft folds over her hips. She wore her hair arranged in an intricate braided style with a white silk bow at its base. Her new bangs were separated perfectly to show off her dark, luminous eyes. She heard me enter and turned, rushing over. Holding my eyes with hers, she pulled me down and kissed my cheek.