Wickedly Magical (5 page)

When he’d first stumbled across it, he’d had no idea what it was. The earthquake hit while he was in his car, parked in a lot by a rarely used stretch of sandy shore. He’d been in the middle of screwing someone else’s wife in the back seat of his Cadillac when the tremors started, and at first he’d mistaken the movement for part of their rather aerobic activities. It wasn’t until his companion’s screams had reached an even higher pitch than usual that Jonathan realized the earth was literally moving.

Afterwards, while his lady friend took a few minutes to straighten her clothes and reapply her makeup, Jonathan went down to the beach. He always liked looking for the little treasures that washed up on the shore after a storm, and he had a small collection of sea glass, coins, and other oddities he’d been adding to since he was a kid.

The waves were larger than usual, probably because of the quake, and the wet sand crunched under his feet. As he bent down to turn over a bit of broken shell, the foam deposited an unexpected gift next to his polished Italian loafers—a small chest the size of his palm, made of something that looked like stone, but weighed next to nothing. When he pried it open, there was only one thing inside: a bronze-colored medallion with foreign symbols or writing around the edges, dangling from a tarnished silver chain.

It didn’t look like much, but for some reason, when the woman he was with came stumbling down the path from the parking lot, he hid it behind his back, clenched tight in one closed hand.

“Oh, for the love of god, will you stop messing around down here and drive me back into town?” she’d demanded fretfully. “I need to get to someplace with a cell signal so I can check in with my family and make sure they’re all right.”

“You weren’t worried about your family five minutes ago,” Jonathan said. “Stop whining at me, will you?”

Surprisingly, she had. The beach was silent for a moment, and Jonathan felt heat coming from the necklace he clutched in his hand, surprising him so much he almost dropped it.

“Hey, did you find something?” the woman asked. “Can I see?”

The medallion grew even hotter, and Jonathan stared at her. “No,” he said. “Go wait in the car.”

As he watched her plump rear retreating up the path, John Bell realized that providence had sent him a gift.

Initially, he’d used it in small ways, mostly to encourage people to buy cars from him, and women to sleep with him. He rapidly discovered that the piece seemed to work much like hypnosis. It couldn’t make someone do something they otherwise would never do. If a man had no intention of buying a car, he still wouldn’t. If a woman wasn’t interested at all, she’d still walk away. But if that man wanted a car that was beyond his means, suddenly Jonathan (or John, as he was still known then) could get him to fork out that extra couple of thousand. And if a woman found him attractive, well, it didn’t take much to persuade her to follow those urges.

Unfortunately, his initial experiments backfired, and he had to leave town in the middle of the night and set out for someplace where he could start over. Destiny sent him another gift, though, this one in the form of the Morrisons, a lovely older couple from Illinois who he met in a rest stop restaurant on his way across country. They’d fallen into conversation over greasy hamburgers, and he’d mostly listened as the gregarious pair talked about the college reunion they’d just been to, and how all their old friends had children and grandchildren, and how sad they were that they’d never had a family. Now it was just them and their huge house and all that property—too much responsibility for them now that they were getting older, but what could they do?

By the time lunch was over, Jonathan had convinced the Morrisons that he was like the son they’d never had, and he’d promised to create the family they all wanted, and take care of everything from now on. By the time they arrived back in DeKalb, the Morrisons had happily signed their property over to him and moved into the smaller foreman’s house, and Jonathan had started the new, improved next phase of his life.

Now, as he gazed out the windows, he wondered how he’d ever managed without his little treasure. Everything was finally going his way.

***

There was a brisk knock on the edge of the door and Hugo stuck his head in. Hugo was one of Jonathan’s best finds; an ex-boxer who was happiest when he had someone to tell him what to do, and people to protect. Jonathan didn’t even have to use the medallion on him most of the time.

“Hey, boss,” Hugo said. “I’ve got a lady here, says she saw you speak in the park, and wants to talk to you.” He seemed a little hesitant, although Jonathan couldn’t see why—this was how they got most of their new members.

Jonathan sat up straight in his chair, feeling that spark of excitement that came whenever another beautiful woman entered his life. He had plenty already, of course, and a few were even favorites, but still, there was nothing like a new conquest. Especially if she happened to have money. Or a child to look up to him. Either one seemed to help fill the empty hole in his soul. At least for a while.

“Send her in, send her in,” Jonathan said. “All seekers are welcome here.”

“Uh, okay, boss,” Hugo said, and moved his bulk out of the way to allow their visitor to enter the room.

The reason for Hugo’s confusion became clear as the woman came into view. She might possibly have been beautiful, forty or fifty years ago. Her back was still straight, and her glossy silver hair was neatly tucked into a bun, but wrinkles covered her cheeks and her eyes had the slightly filmy look of someone who spent more of their time gazing at the past than at the future. Jonathan thought she could have been anywhere between seventy-five and ninety-five. But her clothes were clearly expensive, and gold rings with large winking gems covered almost every finger on her gnarled hands, one of which was wrapped around the top of an ornate cane, topped with the curve of a dragon with a ruby in its eye. Reason enough to be nice to her, for the moment anyway.

“Good afternoon,” Jonathan said, sweeping out from behind his desk and pulling up a chair for her. “Mrs. . . . ?”

“Miss,” his guest corrected in a lightly accented voice, sitting down gracefully. “Miss Anna Volkova. I apologize for coming without an appointment, but I must confess, I was so swept away after hearing you speak, I simply acted on impulse.” She gave him a small, tight smile that made it clear that this was not her usual approach.

“I’m honored,” Jonathan said, pulling up a chair next to hers, rather than returning to his seat. “And very flattered that you enjoyed my little talk, Miss Volkova.”

“Oh, I did,” she said, placing her cane neatly across her legs, feet in sensible low shoes aligned squarely in front of the chair. “I found it very inspirational. As you can imagine, at my age, one begins to ponder all manner of spiritual matters, and your discussion of becoming a higher being through acts of service really touched a chord with me.”

Jonathan nodded, smiling encouragingly. He offered her tea or coffee, but she said she’d rather just get on with it. Miss Volkova was undoubtedly a woman who rarely wasted either time or words.

“Yes, here at the Enlightenment Ranch we all try to be of service to each other,” he said.

“No doubt,” the old lady said dryly. Then she cleared her throat and went on, her reedy voice thin and light.

“In fact, I had a lovely chat with one of your young ladies when she came around with the offerings basket, and what she said about this being like one big family was what made me decide to come out and visit you.” She looked a bit wistful, her upright posture drooping for a moment before she straightened back up with an effort.

“It has been a long time since I have had relatives,” Miss Volkova admitted. “My parents had me rather late in life, and I was an only child. They died many years ago, and I never married. They left me quite well-off, and I’m afraid that most of my suitors were more interested in my inheritance than they were in me.”

Jonathan made the appropriate shocked noises, his pulse kicking up involuntarily at the thought of adding a wealthy elderly woman to his flock. “Have you no kin at all?” he asked, reaching out to pat her hand comfortingly. “How sad.”

“I have a lovely dog,” the old woman said, giving a tiny laugh. “He’s very good company.”

“Yes, but a dog is no replacement for the joy of having a family, is it?” Pat, pat, pat.

“No, indeed not. In fact, you might not be surprised to discover that I was quite drawn by the idea of becoming part of a ready-made clan , such as the one you have created here,” she said almost shyly. “If you would consider including an old lady such as myself. I noticed that most of your followers are quite young.”

“Ah, yes,” Jonathan said. “But we welcome all here. Think how thrilled the children would be to have a new grandmother.” He gave her his best charming smile and stroked the medallion under his shirt. Its familiar heat was like a reassuring touch from a lover. “I think you’d love it here.”

“There are children?” Miss Volkova said. “How lovely. I do so enjoy children. Might it be possible to take a tour of the house and perhaps meet a few of the people? Something tells me I’d love it here.”

Jonathan suppressed a feeling of gleeful triumph and stood up, putting his hand out to help the old woman rise from her chair. Somehow the curved end of her cane got hooked on the chain of his necklace, and pulled the medallion out to dangle in front of his chest. Before he could tuck it away, a wrinkled hand had wrapped itself around the flat metal disk.

“How curious,” Miss Volkova said, peering at it over her bifocals. “Goodness, this looks almost as old as I am.” She gave a cackling chuckle. “Is it some kind of heirloom?”

Jonathan couldn’t figure out how to get her to let go without risking breaking one of her fragile-looking fingers. “Uh, no, it’s uh, just a lucky piece, I guess you could say.”

“Hmmm,” she muttered, leaning in so close he could smell her rose-scented perfume. “I wonder what language that writing is in. Do you know?”

To his relief, she finally released it, and he tucked it hurriedly back against his skin.

“I don’t, no,” he said, wiping away a tiny bead of sweat. He hated having anyone else touch his prize. “I’ve always assumed it was just some kind of decoration.” He held out his arm. “Shall we go for that tour now?”

“Indeed. Let us see what there is to see.”

***

Jonathan showed Miss Volkova around the large house, carefully pointing out one of the empty bedrooms that was more luxurious than most, saved for special guests he wanted to impress. Eventually they ended up outside, where the backyard was split between a sizable garden (why buy vegetables when you could have your own people grow them for you) and a play area for the children. There were half a dozen small figures cavorting around the jungle gym and a sandbox, with two more seated rather glumly on a set of swings.

“Oh my goodness,” the old woman said. “Are all these children yours?” Her rheumy eyes went wide.

Jonathan chuckled, ruffling one child’s hair as they went by. “They are now. Their mothers live here, and none of their biological fathers show much interest in visiting. Sadly, I can’t have children of my own—a bad case of chicken pox late in my teens—but I love all these children as if they were mine, so it all works out for the best.” The medallion warmed even more, adding a familiar scorching sensation to his already scarred flesh. “The only thing they’re missing is a grandmother to bake them cookies.”

Miss Volkova gave him a brief scornful glance. “I’m afraid I don’t bake, Mr. Bellingwood.”

“Ah, oh, of course not,” he said, backtracking quickly. Obviously, the old lady wasn’t going to be much help around the place. But if she was as rich—and alone—as she looked, he’d willingly put up with that for the short amount of time she had left. And when her time ran out, who was she going to leave her money to, some tiny yipping dog? Or her new loving family, headed by one Jonathan Bellingwood.

“Those two children don’t look very happy,” she said, and marched over towards the swing sets at an alarmingly fast clip, cane and all. Jonathan tried to head her off, but somehow, even half-running to keep up, she got there first.

The two little girls, one three and the other five he thought, sat on the swings without moving, their chubby little fists holding on to the chains as they talked quietly to each other. The smaller one had been crying, Jonathan saw. He sighed. The medallion didn’t work as well on children, for some reason. It was as if their little brains were changing too fast to hold on to the commands he gave them. Most of the kids adjusted eventually, but these two had only been here for six months, and seemed more resistant than most. Of course, it didn’t help that their mother had a tendency to forget they were even here. She was so lovely, he kept her quite busy with other things.

“Hello children,” Miss Volkova said, sounding for all the world like a Russian Mary Poppins, with her faint hint of an accent. “Dear me, what seems to be the problem here?”

The smaller girl wiped one grimy hand under her nose and Jonathan winced. Kids were great and all that, but they were so messy.

“I miss my daddy,” she whispered. “I want to go home.”

Jonathan cleared his throat and smiled through gritted teeth. The last thing he needed was these brats ruining his carefully created image of blissful family life just when he’s clinched the deal. The old lady was clearly ready to sign on the dotted line. “Now, now, sweetie, you know this is your home, and you love it here. Look, here comes your mommy.” He turned and glared at Grace where she was sitting on a nearby bench until she put down her paperback and came over to wipe Elena’s tears away with a crumpled tissue.

Placing one hand firmly over the medallion, he knelt down in front of the two girls. “You don’t really want to be anyplace other than here, do you? Come on, I know you think this is the best house in the whole world. Better than Disneyland, even.”

Elena blinked rapidly. “Better than Disneyland,” she repeated.

“It’s great,” Katya agreed, smiling at her sister. “Can we go play with the other kids, mommy?”