Mysteria Nights

by P. C. Cast

  “Yuck.”

  “Yeah. So I asked Glory to cast a zit spell on me.”

  “Goddess! There’s such a thing as a zit spell?”

  Summer nodded. “She got the spell from her sister, Evie. You know she’s a vengeance witch.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Okay, go on.”

  “Well, it should have been simple enough. I wanted the zit gone. I have opposite magic. Glory casts a spell to fill my face with zits, which should have totally cleared my face of zits.”

  “It does sound simple enough.”

  “It didn’t work out that way.”

  “What happened?”

  “It cleared my face. Of everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Absolutely everything. I had no gigantic zit, but I also had no eyes, nose, or mouth.”

  “Shit! What did you do?”

  “Freaked out. I knew it was bad, because I couldn’t see anything, but when Glory started screaming, ‘Oh great Goddess help! Her face is gone,’ I lost it. I tried to scream with her, couldn’t, so I did what any normal girl would do when scared shitless and utterly blind.”

  “You ran?”

  “Yep. And promptly fell over my cool fuchsia beanbag chair, smacking my head on the corner of my very large and very metallic stereo cabinet, which negated the spell. Thank the Goddess.”

  “So your face came back?”

  Summer nodded. “Along with the Cyclops zit. See, that’s what happens when I think I’m smart, take a chance, and let my opposite magic do its thing. It never works exactly opposite. It’s more like sideways, around-the-corner, upside-down magic. And the spell only goes away if something major happens to me.”

  “Like smacking your head.”

  “Like smacking my head.”

  “Okay, I get that that was bad, and your control issues are making more and more sense, but have you ever tried to control your magic instead of controlling yourself?”

  “Huh?”

  “Think about it. You have weird magic, fine. Besides that, you have strong weird magic. How you’ve dealt with it is to clamp down major control over everything else in your life, but maybe all you have to do is to take control of your magic—you know, show it who’s boss—and make it act right.”

  Summer shook her head. “You’re nuts.”

  “I’m just sayin’ discipline can be a good thing.”

  “Sure, for someone who is comfortable with it,” Summer said.

  “So get comfortable with it.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Maybe you just need the right incentive,” Jenny said. “Want me to give you a quick dominatrix lesson or twelve? It’d be fun.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’ll just bumble along as I am, which means no ‘helpful’ magic spells from you or anyone else. Okay?”

  Jenny held up her hand like she was taking an oath. “Promise.” Then she added, “Guess it looks like you’re going to have to get a handle on your übercontrol issues and your bizarre magic.”

  Summer sighed. “Sadly, it looks like it.”

  “Well, never fear. You have a Certified Discipline Nymph on your side. Plus, Kenny-benny may surprise both of us and take forceful control of your date tonight and ravish you properly.” Jenny giggled and then, at Summer’s frown, cleared her throat and sobered up. The bus lurched to an awkward halt in front of Dark Shadows, Mysteria’s only art gallery. “But before anyone gets ravished, we will edify and educate the masses.” She winked at Summer, stood up, smoothed her hair, and faced the bus full of teenagers. “Touch anything and you will have to deal with me—before school in the boy’s restroom with a toothbrush, a can of Comet, and a collection of Shakespearian sonnets.”

  “What’re the poems for?” whispered a voice from the silent, staring students.

  “To clean your minds out while your hands—your gloveless hands—clean out the urinals,” Jenny said sweetly. She turned around and, to a chorus of gagging sounds from the students, grinned at Summer. “Let’s go, shall we?” Jenny sashayed from the bus, leading the way into the gallery with Summer and the well-disciplined students following close behind her.

  Summer thought entering the gallery was like leaving one world for another. Inside the spacious building it was cool and dark. Even from the foyer she could see that instead of the usual plain white expanse of gallery walls, Dark Shadows had been painted in unyielding black, broken only by spotlights trained on each painting so that the entire exhibit gave the impression of floating dreams poised on the surface of a dark, sleeping sea.

  “Wow, it’s been years since I’ve been here, and I’d forgotten how dramatic the black walls make this place,” Summer told Jenny in a hushed voice.

  “Yeah, Barnabas told me that he hadn’t planned the effect. He’d painted everything black only because it’s easier on his vampire senses. The weirdness of it was just a happy by-product.”

  “Well, vampires gross me out with their definitely non-vegan diet, but there’s something about this place that I like, even if it is a little creepy and—”

  “Ladies, how may I help you?”

  At the sound of the deep voice, Summer jumped guiltily and looked up . . . and up . . . and up into the face of a god of a man. He was standing just inside the shadowy entrance of the gallery, and even though it was dark and cool within, he was wearing mirrored sunglasses. As she blinked at her own reflection in those glasses, the man slowly reached up and removed them, revealing eyes so dark they looked black. His gaze locked with hers. Gorgeous, dark, dangerous were the descriptive words that flitted through her mind. “You’re not Barnabas,” she said abruptly.

  One black brow lifted. “Astute observation, ma’am.”

  “Oooh, you must be Colin, Barnabas’s older brother. Tell me I’m right, handsome,” Jenny demanded, flipping her hair coquettishly.

  “You’re right.” His eyes sparkled playfully when he turned to Jenny. “And you must be a Certified Discipline Nymph.”

  “Smart and handsome—my second-favorite combination,” Jenny said.

  “Your first favorite?” Colin asked with a sexy smile.

  “Smart, handsome, and bound by the wrists,” Jenny said.

  Summer felt the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she cleared her throat and said, “High school field trip—students—right behind us. Remember?”

  Jenny shrugged, barely glancing at the wide-eyed students. “I’m just being friendly. But you’re right. We should get down to business.” The purr in her voice said that she’d rather go down on Colin than get down to any other business.

  Summer frowned at Jenny and then stuck her hand out to Colin. “Hello, I’m Miss Smith. I sent the e-mail several days ago reserving the gallery for the field trip this morning. I’m assuming that’s still okay, even though your brother isn’t here?”

  Colin took her hand in his, and Summer had to force herself not to gasp. His grip was strong, but she’d expected that. He was, after all, a very big man who had very big hands. It was the temperature of his skin that shocked her. Being touched by him was like being touched by an awakened statue. His hand was smooth, hard, and cool. Their eyes met again, and Summer was jolted by the dark intensity with which he was studying her—as if she was, at that moment, the most important thing in his universe. She’d only known of one species of Mysteria’s creatures who could spear someone with such intensity and whose skin felt like molded marble . . .

  “You’re a vampire!” she blurted, pulling her hand free of his firm grip.

  His smile was slow and knowing, not in the least bit ruffled by her statement. “I am. Both of my brothers and I are vampires. It runs in the family, you know,” he said smoothly.

  “Does it?” Summer made herself not wipe her tingling palm down the side of her slacks.

  “It does when you’re all bitten by the same master vampire,” he said.

  Summer noticed that when he spoke to her, the playful sparkle that Jenny seemed to automatically evo
ke in his eyes changed . . . darkened, and even though he was no longer touching her, he was still studying her with that uncomfortable intensity. Feeling weirdly light-headed, Summer spoke more briskly than she’d intended. “That’s interesting. Maybe we can talk about it later. Right now I think we should start our field trip. If that’s okay with you—or your brother. Is Barnabas really not here?”

  Colin cocked his head and looked down at her, a small curve of amusement shadowing his full lips. “Barnabas is in Paris drowning himself in wine and young Frenchmen so that he can forget being jilted by Hunter Knight.” The vampire shrugged one of his broad shoulders. “Foolish of him to become so obsessed with a straight guy. I tried to tell Barnabas that Hunter’s as gay as I am.”

  “Which is to say not at all,” Jenny chimed in.

  Colin’s grin was almost a leer. He answered Jenny, but his eyes stayed on Summer. “Yes, ma’am. You’re right about that.”

  “So, does that mean the field trip is off?” Summer said, wondering why Jenny’s flirting with Colin should annoy her.

  “Not at all. The reason I moved to town temporarily from my ranch is because Barnabas asked me to babysit this special exhibit. The field trip is definitely on. Besides, you just got here, Miss Smith. I’d hate for you to leave until we’ve gotten to know each other better.” Colin’s dark eyes trapped her gaze, and she felt her breathing deepen.

  Is he making me dizzy? Is he working a vampire mojo on me? Summer mentally shook herself. She was being ridiculous. Magic didn’t work on her. Or if it did, it went way wrong. Her overactive imagination and hormones were the only things working on her. What was probably happening was she was displacing her excitement about the impending dream date with Ken. No way was she interested in this vampire! He definitely didn’t fit in with her well-thought-out plan for her future. “Excellent. Let’s get started. The students have really been looking forward to this field trip,” she lied.

  “I hadn’t been thinking much about this field trip at all.” Colin lowered his voice so that it seemed to brush against Summer’s skin. “At least not until I saw who was leading it. Now I do believe it’s going to be a very interesting experience. It is good to meet you, Miss Smith.” He tipped an imaginary hat to her in a cowboylike move that appeared to be second nature to him. Then he raised his voice so that the waiting students could hear. “Come on in and check out the art. And, yes, there are some nudes.”

  There were spontaneous high fives given in response as the students filed into the gallery.

  “Ladies, if you’ll follow me, I’ll give you a more personal tour,” Colin said. Though he spoke to both women, his eyes rested on Summer’s face hungrily. He strode into the main gallery, giving Summer plenty of time to take in the faded jeans that snuggled his firm ass and the broad shoulders that strained the fabric of the black, long-sleeved shirt he wore. And were those cowboy boots? On a vampire? Sweet Goddess, gay Barnabas’s brother was a sexy cowboy vampire!

  “Damn, Summer! Are you secreting some kind of come-fuck-me! hormone? Tall, dark, and vampire is clearly hitting on you.”

  Summer pulled her eyes from Colin’s muscular body and managed to scoff. “Oh, please. I’m so not interested in him.”

  “Really? That’s not what your nipples are saying. Better check your control, girlfriend.”

  Horrified, Summer glanced down to see the outline of her very obviously aroused nipples pressing against her cream-colored blouse. Hastily she crossed her arms over her chest and muttered, “It’s just cold in here,” as she hurried into the gallery with Jenny’s knowing laughter following her.

  Four

  “All right! Move away from the nude, and no one gets hurt!” Jenny snapped, and the group of gawking teenage boys shuffled reluctantly away from the full frontal nudity of George Wilson’s The Spring Witch.

  Colin waited until the three of them were alone before saying, “Wilson was a big fan of Dante and William Blake, so he liked the poetic and romantic subject here.”

  Summer blinked in surprise up at Colin. The tall vampire actually seemed to know something about art.

  “Huh!” Jenny snorted a little testily. “I don’t see anything terribly romantic about witches. Sexy—maybe. Wanton—for sure. Romantic? Nah.”

  “The subject isn’t a witch as we know them in Mysteria,” Colin explained, his eyes on the nude painting. “It’s actually Persephone as she emerges from the underworld. See the pomegranate in her hand?”

  “Oh, well, that makes more sense. Goddesses are definitely romantic,” Jenny admitted.

  “What do you think of her, Miss Smith?”

  Colin’s question, as well as the intense gaze he shifted from the painting to her, caught Summer unaware, and she automatically said what was foremost in her mind. “I think I like her body better than most of the other women in the exhibit. They look too manly.”

  Colin’s brows lifted. “I agree with you, Miss Smith. The Pre-Raphaelites tended to give their female models masculine characteristics. I like my woman to look like a woman, and not like a man in drag.”

  “As if that matters to the germs and hormones,” Jenny said, eyes lighting on a group of laughing, jostling teenage boys clustered around the huge, colorful, and seminude painting of Toilette of a Roman Lady. “Excuse me for a sec. I’m going to kick some boy butt.”

  As she hurried toward the students, Summer called, “Herd them back into the main gallery in front of the Romeo and Juliet painting. I’m going to give them their topic for the essay assignment.”

  Jenny’s teeth flashed white as she grinned over her shoulder. “Oh, good. They’ll hate that.”

  And, just like that, Summer and Colin were left completely alone for the first time.

  She didn’t have to look up at him to know his eyes were on her. Again. She could feel his gaze—against her skin, inside her blood. It heated her body, arousing her nipples and making her inner thighs tingle, and her woman’s core became hot and wet and needy . . . needy for his touch, which wouldn’t be sweet and gentle and loving, as she’d fantasized about Ken’s touch being. Colin’s touch would be like his body: hard and strong and sexy. No, Colin was nothing like Ken.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  His deep voice came from very close to her. When had he stepped into her personal space? She looked up at him. Those eyes! They’re so intense—so sexy. He was close enough that his scent came to her, and it, too, was a surprise. Instead of smelling like the grave or worse, like a carnivorous, bloodsucking monster, Colin smelled as sexy as he looked. His scent was man mixed with something spicy, like cinnamon or even more exotic, like cloves and darkness and cool nighttime breezes sifting over love-dampened skin.

  She stared at him and breathed the unique scent that was Colin distilled by his own skin. Nothing like Ken, who smells like lemons and laughter, and who I’m supposed to be having a dream date with tonight! “My date tonight,” Summer finally managed to answer.

  Colin’s dark eyes narrowed dangerously. “You shouldn’t lie to me. You know vampires can smell lies.”

  Summer took a step back and put up her chin. She was damn sure not going to let this overbearing, way-too-masculine creature intimidate her, no matter how yummy he smelled. She was a college graduate and a professional teacher!

  “Then you should sniff again. I was definitely thinking about Ken,” Summer said with finality.

  “Ken?” his dark-chocolate voice was heavy with amusement. “As in Barbie’s boyfriend?”

  “No. Ken, as in my boyfriend.”

  With a movement too fast to follow with her eyes, Colin grabbed both of her arms and lifted her so that he only had to bend a little to fit his face into the soft slope of her neck. He inhaled deeply and then let his breath out slowly, caressingly, so that it brushed against her sensitive skin and caused her to shiver.

  “You may have been thinking, briefly, of him. But you do not have a boyfriend.”

  “What makes you say that?” she asked breathl
essly.

  “If you belonged to a man, I could scent him on you, and you smell only of yourself: sunlight and honey and woman.”

  He let her go as abruptly as he had grabbed her, and Summer stumbled back a couple of steps.

  Her head was spinning, and her breath was coming short and hard. It was like he’d filled her mind with the white noise of the inside of seashells. All she could think to say was, “I smell like sunlight and honey?”

  “Yes.” Colin ran one cool finger down her heated cheek and the side of her neck. “Warm honey on a golden summer’s day. You draw me to you like a field of lavender draws bees. Will you let me taste you?”

  “Hey, Miss Smith! Miss Sullivan says we’re all waiting for you, and we need you now. Uh, you better come, ’cause she seems kinda pissed.”

  Colin’s hand fell away from her face, and Summer turned to see the little blond cheerleader standing in the doorway to the main gallery.

  “Y-yes. Okay. I’m coming. Now.” Without looking back at Colin, Summer hurried from the room.

  She could feel him following her. She thought it was like having a dangerous but darkly beautiful panther stalking her. He wanted to taste her! Summer shivered and crossed her arms concealingly over her breasts. Again.

  “There you are, Miss Smith. The students are ready for their essay assignment.” Jenny told her, then her eyes snapped over the group of milling students. “I said get your notebooks out. Now.”

  Book bags exploded as kids hurried to do her bidding. Summer could only watch in awe. How the hell did Jenny do that? She hadn’t even raised her voice. Soon the entire room (which included one dark and brooding vampire) was looking expectantly up at her.

  Summer cleared her throat. “The topic of your essay is this: a Pre-Raphaelite art critic wrote that this painting of Romeo and Juliet by Ford Madox Brown was ‘splendid in expression and fullness of tone, and the whole picture is gorgeous in color.’ I want you to be a modern art critic and tell me in your essay what you learned about Romeo and Juliet from Mr. Brown’s painting.” Summer paused, narrowed her eyes, and did what she hoped was a believable impression of Jenny’s firmness, then added, “No, that does not mean that I want you to tell me Romeo is wearing a gay-looking red outfit, and Juliet’s boobs are showing. What I want you to tell me is what this painting says about them as a couple. Questions?” She didn’t give them time to ask any but hurried on. “Good. I’ll let you have about fifteen more minutes here in front of the painting to take notes and start getting your ideas on paper.”