Sorceress of Faith (53 page)

Marian
rubbed at her temple. She was undergoing serious culture shock—something she
hadn’t anticipated.

“Get
yourself down here at once, or I won’t deposit the second half of your college
fund. I did teach you to honor your word.”

By
the Song! “Sorry, Mother, I’ve been, uh, in an intense French seminar the past,
uh, couple of days—”

“Just
get down here as quickly as you can.” Candace sounded furious. She hung up.

Setting
the phone carefully back in its cradle, Marian pressed both hands to her head.
Her mouth was dry—her whole body seemed thirsty. With measured steps she opened
the refrigerator. The cold air blasted her and she flinched, she was so unused
to it. Her hand curled around the filtered water pitcher, her fingers chilling
at the touch. She kept her hand steady as she poured a tumbler full of water.
Then she drank it down. And another.

She
needed more—a full immersion, a bath. She might have time for a shower.
Automatically, she undressed.

Candace
was right. It was rare for Marian to break her word. She didn’t recall ever
doing so with her mother. Yet she’d done it when she’d left. Because of Andrew.

So
much had changed, but her priorities remained the same. She wanted Andrew cured
and only hoped that he could be convinced to come to Lladrana with her.

She
also wanted a loving mother.

That
wouldn’t happen.

She’d
once had hopes that she and her mother could build a mutually satisfying
relationship. Now Marian had limited time to find words to reconcile with
Candace. Marian’s gut told her it couldn’t be done. She’d have to leave one of
the major threads of her life dangling, untidy, unfinished, never to be
perfect.

It
hurt.

Candace
was already furious with her. It would be difficult for Marian to work her out
of her stubborn anger.

The
shower water cooled as it cascaded over her and Marian reluctantly turned the
faucets off. She used minimal makeup and shimmied into her black evening dress.
It fit better than ever. She’d toned up a bit in her weeks away—all that stair
climbing.

She
wound her hair into an elegant twist, grimacing at the new wide streak of
silver over her left temple. Then she checked the small black beaded evening
bag that she kept prepared for her mother’s events.

And
hesitated.

Her
mind boggled at the thought of driving a stick-shift in the dark from Boulder
to Denver. The traffic! She didn’t know if she could do it.

But
when she entered her living room again, the pentacle glowed. She saw it with
new eyes. It held Power.

Marian
closed her eyes.
She
held Power, too. She could feel it surge through
her. It wasn’t as strong as when she was on Amee, but she’d be able to do
wondrous, magical deeds.

Slowly
she moved into the middle of the pentacle. She knew the building where the
fund-raiser was taking place very well. It was Candace’s preferred place for
charities, an old, elegant hall. That had once been a Scottish Rite Masonic Temple.
Marian’s lips curved. Plenty of star symbols there.

Even
as she thought of that, a neon-blue star appeared in her mind—it was in a
mosaic on the wall of a large balcony.

Perfect.

With
a small chant, Marian raised her arms, Called the Wind and chanted that she
wanted to be in the hall. The zephyr picked her up and whirled her. There was
an emptiness, then her feet hit solid ground and her left hand touched small
tiles. When she opened her eyes, it was to see her fingers in the center of the
star.

Her
breath rushed from her and she leaned against the wall. It hummed with the
aftermath of Power. The remaining energy soaked into her and she accepted it
gratefully. It was one thing to be a Circlet of Lladrana and practice magic
there. It was completely different to do something magical on Earth, where
she’d always considered herself a rational person and where magic didn’t seem
to exist.

The
babble of cultured voices rose with the scent of costly perfume from the floor
below. Marian let dislike of the event tremble through her, then set her
shoulders and pushed away from the wall to walk with staggering steps. She
barely made it a few paces down the hall to the ladies’ room. It was blessedly
empty.

She
checked herself in the mirror. Her mouth fell open and she snapped it shut.

She
looked better than
all right
. In the dim light she seemed to glow. Her
hair was sexily tousled; her makeup appeared to have interacted with her skin
to emphasize her eyes, cheeks, mouth. She stared, and felt a slight tingle as
if she wore a shimmering coat of conditioner. An old word occurred to her,
magic.
Glamour.

Realizing
she was wasting time—time her mother was counting in seconds—she left.

With
the knowledge that she’d never looked better, and slightly hysterical, bubbling
amusement at the effect of Power on her skin, Marian hurried down the old
wooden staircase at the back of the building and into the ballroom.

She
stopped at the bottom of the staircase to look around. The people and the party
furnishings looked so strange after her sojourn in Lladrana. Nerving herself,
she spotted her mother and crossed to her. She hadn’t seen Candace in nine
months, and she looked thin, pale and expensively elegant. She was speaking to
two men with false affection. Her husband, John, smiled vacuously as he sipped
champagne.

Candace’s
eyes widened, and for one instant Marian heard the faulty tune between her and
her mother.

“Marian,
how good of you to finally come,” Candace said coolly. Her expression had
hardened.

Marian
felt as awkward and gawky as when she was twelve and had a growth spurt that
sent her towering inches over Candace.

“Good
evening, Candace,” she said.

The
men were introduced and bowed over her hand. Their auras had altered
slightly—they were attracted to her, Marian realized. John stared at her.

Candace
watched with sharpened gaze. The mother-daughter Song brayed with brass. With
it came a word from Candace’s mind.
Competition
.

Marian
nearly gaped at her mother, but murmured something appropriate to the men and
offered them a weak smile.

“Please
excuse me, gentlemen, I must speak with my daughter alone.” Candace smiled,
too, then gripped Marian’s arm in a clawed-handed squeeze and moved her away
from the men.

Still
stunned by the rapid shifts in her life, Marian didn’t hear Candace’s first few
words.

“—at
my wit’s end to keep Trenton’s new wife amused. Her name is Juliet. Go over
there and keep her happy so I can work on Trenton for a plump donation.” With a
tilt of her head, Candace indicated a woman dressed in black knit tunic and
trousers with a long, silver, fringed and beaded evening shawl draped around
her. She moved a little and Marian saw the Chinese pattern for longevity woven
in metallic thread on the back of the robe.

And
she heard the woman’s tune. Earthy, amused, strong. Clashing with Candace’s own
life Song. She listened to her mother’s Song, which fluctuated between strident
and whispered sharp notes…fading.

Shock
rippled through Marian as she realized her mother was seriously ill, perhaps
dying. She opened her mouth.

Candace
discreetly poked Marian in her back. “Go do your duty.”

Only
a rusty, “Yes, Mother” escaped Marian. Operating solely on instinct, she walked
up to Trenton’s bride.

The
woman took a glass of wine from a server who arrived at the same time as
Marian. Needing something to settle her, Marian took a glass, too. It tipped,
liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

Juliet
reached out to steady Marian’s wrist. “Easy,” she said, then, “Thank you,” to
the server who moved off with his tray.

A
tinkle of connection sounded between them. Juliet gasped, dropped her hand. Her
eyes widened, and Marian gained the impression that she hadn’t heard the
sparkling notes but had
seen
a shift in their mingled auras.

Then
she smiled, quite genuinely. “How kind of Candace to provide someone
interesting for me to speak with.”

Marian
choked on her drink. She spilled a few droplets on her bosom, watched them soak
into her dress and disappear. It didn’t look as if the material would stain.
Good.

She
racked her brain to recall the meager information her mother had given her
about this woman weeks ago. “You, um, own The Queen of Cups store?”

“Yes.”

“It’s
the best New Age establishment in Denver,” Marian said, glad it was the truth.
She wasn’t acclimatizing as quickly as she had thought she would to being back
home on Earth.

“Thank
you.” Juliet smiled. “What do you like the best?”

“Your
books. Excellent selection.”

Juliet
looked askance. Did Marian have an accent? Did Juliet think Marian was as
superficial as Candace? “And, um, your herbs. I bought a nice marble mortar and
pestle the last time I was in.”

Juliet
relaxed. “We have a good stock of tools. We recently received a new shipment of
pendulums.”

Frowning,
Marian said, “Pendulums can be quite attractive, but I’ve never used one.” She
didn’t think she’d seen any in Lladrana, either. Did they use them?

With
a tilt of her head, Juliet said, “Is something disturbing you? You
seem…distracted.”

Disconnected
was a better
word. Linked to Mother Earth, but that Song was subdued here in the city. It
had faded to a hum that spoke more to her blood than her mind. Otherwise Marian
was disconnected to everything around her, everything she’d been linked to a
few hours ago.

Except
Candace, and the Song between them was so pitiful it was depressing. Marian
shook her head, hoping to jar a little sense back into it.

“Sorry,
I’m just back from an…intense retreat. French.” She smiled. “I’m a little tired
and coping with language echoes.”

Juliet
narrowed her eyes. “Maybe you should have some food.” Then, with a sweep of her
arm, she called to a waiter who was circulating with small steak kebabs.

“Thank
you,” Marian said as she took three. She munched one quickly and then she and
Juliet drifted over to a waste basket and dropped two of the bamboo skewers
into it.

Juliet
slipped the wineglass from Marian’s hand and set it on a nearby table. “And I
think you should have less to drink.”

“Very
wise,” Marian said, then finished off the second kabob. She was ravenous, could
eat ten of the appetizers. Was this a reaction to her using magic here, or to
the Dimensional Corridor, or to landing on Earth again, or what?

“Marian,”
Juliet said softly, as Marian discarded the third empty stick.

Heat
flooded her. “I’m sorry, as you said, I’m distracted, and here I came just to
meet you. Please, forgive.”

Juliet
looked intrigued. “Just to meet
me?
”

Marian
nodded. “Yes, my best teacher, Golden Raven, just left for the coast. I thought
I’d talk to you about the Denver community and see if you could recommend
someone comparable.”

“Ah.
Yes, I’d heard Wood Elk and Golden Raven were heading west.” Juliet’s brow
furrowed. “You want another teacher?”

Actually,
that was the last thing she wanted. Thinking on it, she had a surfeit of
teachers lately, but Marian nodded anyway.

“Hmm.”
Juliet tapped her finger against her lips. “Do you get our newsletter?”

“The
print one, but I think I’d pay attention to an online one more.” That made
Marian think about her PDA. She’d been careful not to touch it when she
returned to her apartment. The intricacies of time-travel paradox had stumped
smarter people than she. Marian caught herself rubbing her temples. “Sorry.”

“Let’s
sit down.” Juliet led her to a small sitting area against the wall. She took
Marian’s hands.

Their
Songs flowed together in counterpoint. Juliet’s eyes widened again.

“Your
energy is fluctuating too extremely,” she said.

Marian
tried to withdraw her hands, but Juliet held tight.

“Breathe
with me.”

Of
course! Why hadn’t Marian thought of that? Too fuzzy brained. She let her
eyelids drift closed. For several moments the women breathed together. At first
Marian was aware of all the people and muted Songs around her, then she focused
in on Candace’s Song and felt her mother’s disgust at her and Juliet. Marian
sent love down the bond to Candace, but it seemed to dissipate against the
shield of Candace’s heart. In turn, Marian searched for emotions from
Candace—pride in her daughter, respect, affection, love,
anything
—and
only sensed a distant acknowledgment of blood, nothing more.

Finally
she blocked her aching heart and emptied her mind, and found serenity,
solidity. She withdrew her hands and opened her eyes to Juliet’s considering
gaze.