Would-Be Witch (11 page)

“It’s all right. I’d feel worse if I’d lost much blood.”

I turned to Lennox. “Are you awake?” I asked softly.

“Yes,” Lennox said in a voice that was sandpaper rough.

“Where are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Just tired,” he said, but the upper right shoulder and chest of his suit were wet and dark.

“I’m sorry they broke through,” Bryn said, brows drawn together with worry.

“If you hadn’t been there, we’d all have been dead,” Lennox said matter-of-factly.

“Why did they do that? Why did they come and attack you?” I asked, shaking like a vine in a hurricane.

“They must have been hunting someone. Werewolves have preternatural tracking abilities. Not only can they follow a human’s scent, but also a particular witch or wizard’s magical essence. Our energy has a unique signature,” Bryn said. “It’s unfortunate that they caught up with whoever they were looking for during the meeting. They tried to kill the rest of us just because we were there. In that form, they’re basically animals.”

We rode for a while in silence with only the sound of the rain for company. I looked out the window and cried for the strangers who’d died. In all my life I’d never seen anything so violent, and it had shaken me up like not much else could have.

Finally, I pulled myself together and cleared my throat. “What kind of spell can we cast to heal ourselves? ’Cause I definitely don’t want to turn into a werewolf.” I coughed and shivered some more before adding, “I’m real firm on staying human. I don’t even like dogs, and I’m pretty sure Mercutio feels the same way.”

Lennox laughed softly. “She’s entertaining, this one.”

Bryn smiled. “We can’t be turned. The magic doesn’t cross over. The power that makes us witchfolk prevents us from becoming werewolves or vampires or other types of magical creatures. We’re a different species.”

“I’m not much of a witch though. Not really.”

“You certainly are,” Bryn said. “When you came out of that blood circle, the energy I used to create it should have dissipated, but you thrust it back into me, gave me back my strength.”

“I didn’t give it back. I didn’t cast any spells.”

He shrugged. “You willed it. It happened. That’s witchcraft.”

“Think so?”

He nodded.

“Am I strong enough to undo my spell on those people that I put to sleep?”

“Yes, with the right ingredients for the counterspell.”

“Then you’re going to tell me what to use. No more asking for permission and checking with the other witches and wizards. We tried to play by the rules and almost got eaten. So, you tell me what to do, and I’ll keep it a secret that you ever helped me. I can’t let those people die on a technicality.”

“And if he does you a favor, you’ll owe him one in return,” Lennox said.

I looked pointedly at Bryn.

“That does seem fair,” Bryn agreed.

I could see that I was going to be trapped very neatly into associating with him more than I wanted to, but I couldn’t help that. And no one in my family could actually tell what the list really warned against anyway. Maybe the name Lyons had been a mistake. Maybe it was supposed to be “lions” and meant I should never go on safari. Okay, it was a stretch, but, under the circumstances, you couldn’t blame me for trying.

Bryn had the car wait while I ran into the house and dried off and found the paper with the spell on it. I put on a pair of jeans, my fastest sneakers, and my lucky Longhorns T-shirt that I wore when they won the Rose Bowl.

Bryn glanced at the faded orange and quirked an eyebrow.

“What?” I demanded. “This is a black-tie spell-casting?”

“Your new outfit’s practical, but you can’t expect me to view it as an improvement over the dress.”

I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes and forced the frown from my face. “Sorry. I’ve still got the jitters.”

“No need to apologize.”

The driver slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt, causing us all to lurch forward.

Lennox grimaced and murmured, “He’s fired.”

“What happened?” Bryn asked.

“That leopard’s in the road,” the driver said.

“It’s not a leopard,” I said, opening the door. “Right?” I asked, looking pointedly at Bryn.

“No. Not a leopard.”

“Of course not,” I said, stepping out. “Mercutio,” I called.

Merc sprang toward the car, startling me. He did look a lot like a leopard in the low light, but with prettier, rounder eyes than the leopards you see on
Animal Planet
.

“Will you stop creeping around like a cat?” I grumbled, but reached down to run a hand over his smooth fur. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

Merc hissed at the backseat of the car.

“Yeah, I know. You smell dog—lots of them. You wouldn’t believe what happened to us. I’m glad you didn’t come,” I said, climbing in. “Come on, Merc.”

He hopped gingerly into the car and looked around before lying down on my feet. Occasionally during the drive to Bryn’s house, Merc swiped the air in the car in a way that told me he could sense some things that I couldn’t. Just one more reason I needed my cat.

When we got to the house, Bryn left Merc and me in the foyer while he walked Lennox to some downstairs guest bedroom. I was in a hurry to get on with things, but Lennox did look like he might just go on and collapse at any minute, so I couldn’t blame Bryn for walking him.

When Bryn came back, I could tell by the way he moved that he was in pain. I folded my arms across my chest and gave him a stern look.

“Lennox needs to go to a hospital. And so do you.” It was the third time I’d said so since we’d left the meeting.

“He won’t go.”

“You could make him go. We could’ve driven to a hospital like I suggested on the drive back. Not like he could’ve stopped us.”

“You think they treat a lot of werewolf wounds?”

“I think they treat a lot of dog bites, and that’s what he’s got, basically.”

“Sure, and a hurricane is just a breeze with a little extra wind,” he said as he walked to the big staircase that looked like an extra set from
Titanic
.

“Well, kind of,” I said mock cheerfully, just to be contrary. “And I still say they could help him.”

“Come on,” he said, waving to me.

I looked skeptically at the stairs. “Why?”

“You want help with your spell or not?” He continued to climb the stairs, not bothering to look back at me for an answer.

I glanced at Mercutio as I headed after Bryn. “Are you coming?”

Merc didn’t budge.

I sighed. “Sometimes you’re not the best sidekick,” I hissed and jogged up the stairs.

Bryn waited for me next to a door.

“So my spell—” I said.

“We’ll talk about it after I take a shower. Though I’m sure you’re of the opinion that a dab of Neosporin and a Band-Aid would do—”

“I never said it wasn’t a bad wound. Those werewolves are a real menace. What are you going to do about it?” I asked.

“What do you suggest? A strongly worded letter to the werewolf king informing him of their bad manners?”

“That’s as good an idea as Cherry Coke, and I’ll be ever so pleased to proofread the letter for you.”

He grinned and leaned forward so his mouth was near mine. “You like to have the last word, don’t you? That’s going to be a problem in our relationship.”

“We don’t have a relationship. I don’t go out with men who take me on dates where I nearly get eaten.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then you haven’t had the right man nearly eat you.”

I gasped, my jaw slack. He brushed his lips over mine, making them tingle.

“Yeah, somehow I figured I’d have the last word with that comment.” He opened the door to the room and walked in, but I stood stuck to my place on the plush cream carpet.

Chapter 10

I hesitated outside Bryn’s bedroom, but there was no way I could leave without his help, so I padded into it and looked around in awe. There was an enormous faceted skylight of leaded glass creating a prism effect of the night sky. The pearly white walls had some sort of gloss over them, so they shimmered and shined, reflecting the light. Large mirrors stood in each corner, making the huge room look huger. A sleek, black-silk duvet covered the king-size bed.

He nodded to a small sofa near the large bay window. I walked over and sat, looking down at the garden and pond that were lit up with landscaper’s lights. It was like the pictures you see in
Architectural Digest
.

“Nice yard.”

“Glad you approve.” He pulled some clothes from a dresser, then went through a doorway that I guessed led to the master bath. When the door closed, I itched to get up and snoop around, but I sat still. I wasn’t even supposed to talk to him. I should never have been in his house, but well, circumstances being what they were, there was no help for it.

I didn’t move for the ten minutes it took for the door to open again. He walked out from the steam dressed only in jeans with a white gauze bandage taped to his wound. He was leaner than Zach, but still made of perfectly sculpted muscle, and I took a few extra moments to stare at his chest before looking away.

“All right, let me see it,” he said.

“Are you going to finish getting dressed first?”

“Not yet. I want to see if this gauze stays dry.” He held out his hand.

I pulled the paper with the spell from my pocket and handed it to him. He bent his head over the sheet for a minute and then looked up. “Not bad. Not the way I would have done it.”

“Can you tell why it went wrong?”

He shook his head. “It’s not the spell. I don’t do much dirt magic, but this looks adequate for what you intended.”

I pursed my lips. “Dirt magic?”

“Slang for Earth magic involving ground plants.”

“Not a very nice way to describe it.”

“No.”

“And what kind of magic do you use?”

He looked back to the paper without answering. “The problem isn’t the ingredients you put in, it’s the magic.”

“But I didn’t put any magic in it. When Momma or Aunt Mel cast spells, they said they felt how much power they were using. But I never felt a thing.”

He didn’t respond.

“You can feel how much you use?”

“Yes.”

“Since I didn’t feel anything, do you think I actually used my own? Because I’ve never had any bona fide power. Maybe Momma and Aunt Mel’s power is still in the house and yard, and I tapped in to it.”

“No.” Bryn went into his closet. I waited, drawing my brows together when he didn’t come back. I stood and went over, peering inside. The closet, full of expensive designer suits, had a back door that led to a tiny workroom. Not exactly Narnia, but plenty intriguing.

Bryn leaned over an open book on a small antique desk.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, walking through the closet.

“A reference book.”

“A spellbook? Can I see it?” I reached for the book, but he caught my hand, holding it and turning toward me.

“Didn’t they teach you anything?”

I glared at him. “Of course they did.”

He took a step forward so that our bodies were nearly touching. I took a step back.

“Then you know that you shouldn’t touch another mage’s book without permission.”

“I wasn’t going to cast a spell while touching it.” I pulled my hand free of his.

“Give me a couple minutes. I’ll be right out.”

I walked back to the bedroom and sat on the bench at the end of his bed, feeling like a scolded child. I resented it and him and the whole darn mess.

I tapped my foot impatiently until he walked out with a couple pieces of paper. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking them over.

“Got it?” I asked, holding out a hand. I’d been gone for almost three hours, and I was anxious to get back to Glenfiddle.

He touched the bed next to him, and I moved to sit by him.

“Most of the fever-breaking spells were created to treat fevers that come from infection, not magic, but if the counterspell doesn’t work, then you could try one. It might at least improve things temporarily.”

I looked at the first sheet he handed me. It was marked “Fever Treatment Spell.” It called for mixing henna with water and turmeric to make a paste that was supposed to be smeared above each eyebrow while reciting a healing blessing.

“What’s the blessing?”

“You have to write it yourself. It’s how you’ll infuse your own power into the spell.” I guess he could tell by the way I drew my brows together that I was skeptical about being able to put power in. He nodded encouragement, then added, “And here’s a counterspell for you to cast.” He handed me the second slip.

I looked over the list of herbs that were to be bundled together after being blessed by sacred verse. “I don’t know if I have all of these.”

“You can replace an herb if you have to, but just don’t delete one. You’ll also have to be sure the replacement herb has the same properties as the one you’re removing.”

I nodded. “You’re not going to come with me?”

“No. I’ve got some of my own work to do, and it can’t wait. But there is one other thing I can do to help prepare you.”

“What?”

“Focusing energy is the most important part of casting any spell. You have to be able to ignore distractions.”

“Not my best thing.”

“Take off your shoes,” he said, moving back on the bed and lying down.

“What have my shoes got to do with it?”

“Trust me. Take off your shoes and lie down.” He stared up at the skylight.

This sure sounded like one of Zach’s millions of ploys back in high school to separate me from my clothing and my virtue. But I imagined that Bryn’s routines, by this point in his life, would somehow be a bit more sophisticated than trying to trick a girl into his enormous silk-covered bed.

“You forgot to put your shirt on. Maybe you want to do that before we start?”

He glanced over, looking me up and down. “Do you need me to?”

“Do
I
need . . . No, I’ll be just fine. Right as rain.” I lay down next to him on the bed.

“I want you to count the number of facets in the glass and then, with your eyes, trace the squares created by the lead between the panes. No matter what I do, keep your count.”