Barely Bewitched (17 page)

Chapter 27

We hit a couple of tangles over shallow rapids, which would have been fun if we’d been inner-tubing on a hot day as opposed to freezing our behinds off after an already exhausting week.

I banged over the rocks, sputtering and cursing, pretty darn annoyed that Bryn took bouncing around like a pinball in stride. We finally saw the golf course, and I knew we’d hit the northeast edge of town.

I’d lost sight of Merc, but guessed he’d decided we were okay to float downstream without his help. The current had picked up again, and as soon as we got into Shoreside Oaks, I swam to the bank and climbed out. Bryn came to the edge, too. With his hair slicked back and his eyes glittering that dark blue, he looked as handsome as ever, and I didn’t think it was a great thing that I was noticing again.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“This is where I get off,” I said, pointing myself in the general direction of where my car was parked by the Macon Hill woods.

“Incendio and Jordan will probably comb the town for you. They can’t get onto my property. It’s fortified.”

“I don’t care. I want a hot shower and clean, dry clothes that fit me. I’ve got so much to do. I need to get a move on.”

“Is that the most sensible plan?”

“Yes, because you’ve got to come up with some spells to save us and the town, and you don’t need me there distracting you.” I waved my hand when he started to protest. “I’ll swing by later, if I don’t get killed or slip into an elf-poison coma.”

Bryn dragged himself out of the water and shivered. “My house is close. You can shower, borrow some clothes, and Steve can drive you.”

My feet did object to the idea of walking farther than absolutely necessary. “I’m tired of floating down the river. My fingertips look like raisins,” I complained, shaking from the cold and pulling some twigs from my hair. My stiff body ached in places I didn’t know you could ache, but I marched out to the road with Bryn.

As we neared his house, I heard classical music and raised my eyebrows at him.

Bryn cocked his head. “Sounds like
Swan Lake
.”

“See, this is the difference between my neighborhood and Shoreside. We never blast Beethoven or Chopin or any of those guys. It’s a real fundamental difference between you and me.”

“I suppose Sutton has the same taste in music as you?”

“Yep.”

“And he likes the same kind of food and has the same politics?”

“Yep and yep,” I said, warming to the conversation.

“And he understands you and your family? He’d never do something like force you to see a psychiatrist for disclosing your most guarded secret? Because he understands your background and can completely relate to it more than I ever could?”

A darn trap. Just like Bryn! Him and his mental chess.
“What makes you think I saw a psychiatrist?” I asked, choosing to focus on who had blabbed my business instead of on his point. “And that was a long time ago. He’s way more open-minded now,” I fibbed.

“Sure he is,” Bryn said with a patronizing smile.

“Mind your own business.”

“I am.”

“Uh-oh,” I said, spotting the source of the music. A bunch of Bryn’s neighbors were sitting in a circle with a woman dancing ballet in the center. She wore a form-hugging blue dress with a flared skirt, but her feet were bare. From the look of her, she was exhausted and one pirouette away from falling flat on her face. Standing behind the circled audience was a big woman in a ball gown, holding a very big gun.

“Come now, really leap!” she snarled. “We know you can do better.”

Hellfire and handbags!
First the Rodeo Snoopy Parade on my street. Now Shotgun Swan Lake. I sure needed to find a way to re-collect that darn dust.

“Bryn.”

He nodded grimly and strolled up to them. “Cecily.”

The woman with the gun spun and I jumped. She had thick streaks of gray through her rat’s nest of tangled black hair, and her rouge looked like she’d finger-painted it on. When she snarled, her deep wrinkles formed a road map to the fiery hereafter, making me take a step back.

Her expression eased when she realized who it was. “Bryn, it’s about time you got here. Join us. Push Charles out of his seat. He’s been asleep for half an hour.”

Bryn glanced around. The people in the chairs wore mixed expressions. Some looked plumb tuckered out, but some looked attentive and scornful at our interruption of the performance.

Cecily raised the gun barrel at the ballerina. “Miranda, did anyone say you could stop dancing?”

“Holy Cruella Duvall,” I mumbled.

I recognized Miranda Castel. She had been a dancer, but she’d retired when I was about ten. Nowadays, she taught dance classes and helped my friend and hairdresser Johnny Nguyen Ho with the town play productions.

At Cecily’s sharp voice and the angle of her twelve-gauge, Miranda let out a sob and started to dance again, tearing up her feet as she twirled on the asphalt.

I’d seen more than enough and opened my mouth to say so, but Bryn spoke first with his typical calm, which I felt defied the serious injustice of the situation. I supposed staying calm was smart, but it still made me want to punch him in the arm.

“Why don’t we go into your house for some coffee?” Bryn suggested to Cecily.

“Decaf,” I added.

“No. I am in charge of this production. For once, the casting will be perfect. Unlike when Mrs. Castel does it.”

Good grief. This was revenge for some slight involving the volunteer theater? Some people really do need to get a life. If she wanted something to complain about, she should try getting shot by a poisoned elf arrow or having fireballs hurled at her until she had to park a car on the bottom of the Amanos River.
Then
she’d have something to get mad about.

Cecily swung the gun barrel skyward, so she could step closer to Bryn. “Your father is nearer to my age, but he’s rarely around. And you do look so like him.” She ran a finger over Bryn’s jaw.

I wanted to punch her. In usual Bryn form, he didn’t even blink.

“Let’s go inside for coffee,” he repeated.

“No. Not yet. I want her feet to bleed first.” That did it! She started to turn as I charged forward. Bryn caught the gun and yanked it from her hands just before I rammed her. She stumbled back, and several people jumped angrily out of their seats, sending chairs toppling.

I tripped the closest man who rushed us, and Bryn turned and shot the stereo, which exploded to bits. He swiveled the gun back toward his startled neighbors.

“Everyone to his or her own house. Right now,” he said.

The protests started low, but rapidly picked up volume.

“I’m calling my lawyer!”

“I won’t stand for this!”

“You’ll be disbarred!”

Men and women were shouting all at once, and I blinked at their vehemence and their gall. I saw Bryn shiver occasionally from the cold breeze, but the gun never wavered.

“That’s enough!” I snapped. “Y’all should be ashamed of yourselves. Shouting like you’re on reality TV. This is Shoreside Oaks, not some trailer park.” Just as I expected, the insult to their dignity startled them into silence. “Mr. Lyons doesn’t want to shoot you, but he will if he has to and a shotgun leaves a mighty big hole.” I started pushing people to get them moving. “Go on now.”

It was like herding cows, I thought as I circled and prodded them.

“Go on. Go inside your mansion and count your money,” I said to the last man.

In the end there was only Mrs. Castel, sitting on the pavement, crying. Bryn and I went and got her up on her poor feet.

“I know just how you feel. Yesterday I skinned my feet something fierce. You know what though? Today they don’t even hurt. You just need a good night’s sleep. You’ll feel better,” I said soothingly as we walked her home. “And there’s good news. Remember when you used to have to be a ballerina full-time? You were one sandwich away from collapsing and couldn’t eat it for fear of gaining an ounce? Not anymore. Tonight you can soak your feet and eat chocolate cake if you want. You’ll feel a lot better.”

She sniffled and rubbed the tears from her face. “Cecily’s always been jealous. She lies about it. She says she wouldn’t sink to actually performing, but that’s sour grapes. She’s a witch.”

I bit my tongue to stop from saying Cecily shouldn’t be lumped in with witches, since most of us are really sweet. “So you have any chocolate cake in the house?”

“No, but I have a gun. A twenty-two somewhere.”

Oh boy.
“How about ice cream?”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully and nodded. “Häagen-Dazs, strawberry cheesecake flavor.”

“Yum.”

“I do indulge in a bowl now and then.”

“Tonight’s a perfect night for it,” I said. A thought struck me. My sweet tooth. Honey instead of gravy on biscuits. Powdered sugar on my toast. Chocolate chips in my pancakes from the time I was little. Momma and Aunt Mel never ate them that way. I even drank sugar water for hangovers. It was because I was part fae. Inside, I smiled. It was like I was a jigsaw puzzle that I’d never been able to finish, and Bryn had dumped a bunch of missing pieces on the table, so now I could fill in the empty spots and finally see who I was. It was more exciting than the new season of
Top Chef
.

I slid a glance toward Bryn, fighting the urge to plant a kiss on his brilliant, beautiful lips. Luckily he didn’t catch me looking or who knows what Mrs. Castel would’ve had to witness.

Bryn opened her unlocked door, and I gently pushed her inside. I pulled the door closed behind her and looked at him.

“Should we go in and confiscate her gun?” I asked.

“If we make it our priority to disarm the neighborhoods, it’ll take us all night. This is Texas, after all.”

Despite the jigsaw puzzle triumph, I rubbed my eyes and shuddered. It was cold out and my clothes were dirty, wet, and stiffening against my body. “We probably should get the guns, but if I don’t get a hot shower, I might start shooting people myself.”

He nodded, and we walked the rest of the way to his front gate.

He pressed the buzzer and announced us. Steve, who was still working, bless his heart, let us in.

Bryn slowed his pace, looking around. I found I couldn’t resist any longer. I caught his arm to stop him and gave him a quick fierce hug and a sound kiss on the cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“None of your business,” I said, which made him laugh.

I started toward the house. “You coming?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could manage.

He continued to smile at me. “In a minute. I’m going to check the wards on the property. You go ahead,” he said.

I nodded and hustled myself up to the door just as Mr. Jenson opened it.

“Miss Tamara, is he . . .”

“Not cured, but he’s okay for the moment. He’s down by the gate. Mr. Jenson, as usual when I land on your doorstep, I’m a wreck. I need a hot shower and some more spare clothes. I ruined the heck out of these.”

Mr. Jenson ushered me in. “You mustn’t concern yourself with trivial matters. A good soak in a hot tub of water will put everything right.”

I nodded, shuffling inside, leaving muddy, smeared footprints in my wake on the normally pristine tile. “You have any hot chocolate?”

“Naturally.”

“Can I have some?”

“Of course you may.”

My shoulders dropped with relief. “Mr. Jenson, will you marry me?”

He chuckled. “That would not be a very good match, considering our relative life expectancies.”

“You’ve got me there. The way I’m going, you’re sure to outlive me by a whole bunch of years.”

Chapter 28

After my shower, I borrowed one of Bryn’s white button-down shirts and some black leggings that one of his lady friends had left behind. There were no shoes to fit me, so I just borrowed some socks. I felt like a cross between a pajama ad and a cartoon ninja.

I asked Mr. Jenson where Bryn was and he said Bryn was already down in the library. When I got there, I found that Bryn had showered, too. He was dressed in a black bathrobe and was arguing with someone on the phone. I decided my socks were crooked and spent a few moments just outside the door pulling them up and straightening them.

“No one new to the craft could be expected to be ready for that at the end of a few days’ training.” He paused. “I don’t care. I know what this is about. Let him challenge me outright,” he said and paused again. “He’s a coward and a prick, hiding behind the position he lied and cheated to get into.” He fell silent a moment. “Yes, Andre, I know exactly how that sounds, but absolute tyranny inspires only two things: fear and rebellion. And unlike Barrett, I’m no coward.” He put the phone down hard, and I crept into the doorway.

“How’d the eavesdropping go?” he asked.

“I was fixing my socks.” I chewed my lip, then added, “I did hear a little.”

He folded his arms across his chest.

“Was that about me? About my challenge?”

He nodded and walked around the desk to me. “There’s no way you could get through it. It would take Class Three skills at a minimum. You’ve got the power, but not the control.”

“Well, it’s good that I didn’t waste a lot of time preparing, then. I’ll just fix the town’s dust problem, then take off for parts unknown. I always wanted to see Graceland. Maybe I’ll get a job at a restaurant in Memphis.”

“They’d hunt you down.”

I twisted my hands, pretending I was rubbing them for warmth instead of wringing them nervously. “What do you say I should do, then?” I said.

“Slip through a loophole in the law.”

“I don’t even know how to play fair, let alone how to cheat,” I said, but I knew well enough that Bryn didn’t bring up many problems that he didn’t already have a solution for, so I waited.

“There’s only one option I can think of. You and I have to bind ourselves in a commitment ceremony.”

I felt myself flush as my mind conjured pretty images of candles, long-stemmed bouquets, and Bryn in a tuxedo. I slammed the brakes on my imagination, feeling a stab of guilt for taking it so far. He wasn’t for me, and I knew that, but boy did I want him most of the time. “What do you mean a commitment ceremony?”

“It’s a partnership where we agree to share magic.”

That made it sound very businesslike, but things were never that straightforward between us. “I’m not going to be your apprentice.”

He shook his head. “For you, this is a far better deal than that. It means I could legally face the challenge for you.”

“And what do you get?”

He pushed a lock of wet hair back from my face and looked me in the eyes. “I get whatever you decide to give me.”

“What if I decide not to give you anything?”

He smiled. “Then it wasn’t a good arrangement for me.”

I wrinkled my nose, feeling as suspicious as a girl who’s offered a diamond for a dollar. “You know what Zach’s big brother, the smart businessman, always says? If a deal sounds too good to be true, that’s because it is.”

“Tamara, John Barrett wants you dead, presumably because he’s worried about how powerful we’ll be if we join our magic. Even if you don’t completely trust what I’m proposing, you have to see that it’s better than the alternative.” He leaned close, his mouth near my ear, and whispered, “Elfin poison still courses through my veins because I refused to let you die. Doesn’t that inspire trust? Tell me,” he said, pausing. “What proof beyond risking my own life can I possibly offer?”

I shivered as the words danced along my spine. He was so good at doing that, at making me want him for better or worse, despite all the warnings. I wished I could trust him and have him on my side for always. Who wouldn’t when he’s all blue-eyed, brilliant, and buff, with years of magical experience? Yet there was the list and Edie’s warning. How could I ignore those things?

I took a step back, staring into his glittering eyes. “I’m real grateful for your help, but I just can’t. Not right now.” I bit my lip. “Probably not ever.”

He scowled in frustration. “Then you might as well take all the poison. There’s no point in both of us dying. I’ll be of better use to the town with my full power restored.”

I swallowed hard, trying to pretend that his saying that didn’t put a dozen cracks in my heart. I knew it was only fair, but, even so, it shocked me to pieces that he suggested it. Zach never would have. Zach had old-fashioned ideas about men protecting women. But this wasn’t Zach. Bryn was more practical than sentimental. And, truth be told, that was exactly what the town needed.

“Okay then,” I said with a tremor in my voice. I closed my eyes and waited for him to kiss me. Nothing happened. And some more nothing happened. Finally I opened one eye. “What are you waiting for?”

“To come to my senses, so I can do this.”

Okay, maybe he was a little sentimental after all. “Well, hurry,” I said, shoring up my courage as I closed my eyes again and puckered my lips. I wanted to get it over with before I lost what was left of my nerve.

A bunch of seconds passed with my pulse pounding like a drum in my head. I realized I’d been holding my breath. I took a deep one, fighting off the trembling that started in my hands.

C’mon!
He needed to get on with poisoning me so I could get back to the things I had to do before I died.

“Get out of here,” he whispered.

My eyes popped open. “Can’t do it?”

He shook his head, the edge of his mouth turning up in the kind of smile that says you wish you could find something amusing, but don’t. I could’ve kissed him.

Bryn turned and walked to the window. While he looked out, I stared at his back, wondering what he was thinking and wanting to go to him.

Instead, I reminded myself that the town was falling apart so I’d better get my butt moving. Silently, I blew him a kiss and shuffled out of the study and then out of his house. Mercutio was waiting for me on the driveway, and he fell in step with me.

“Just you and me again, Merc.”

He meowed.

“Yeah, it’s for the best.”
Even if it doesn’t feel that way.