Suddenly Spellbound

by Erica Lucke Dean

  Convincing myself was easy. Persuading Jack would be near impossible. His argument hinged on my being “out of control”—both physically and emotionally—and maybe he was right. Magic had an intoxicating effect on me. And a little seemed to go a long way.

  After looping around the parking lot for what seemed like an eternity, searching for the science building, I parked beside my mother’s worn-out Wagoneer and made my way inside. My father’s booming voice echoed through the vacant halls, and I followed the sound to the last door on the left, pushing the lingering sense of foreboding to the back of my mind with a shiver.

  Dad looked up from his gurgling beaker to beam at me. “Ivie! You made it. I’m so pleased. Liam, come meet my little girl.” My father yanked off his Plexiglas goggles and dropped them to the table in front of him. Before I realized what he was doing, he’d grabbed a tall, dark, and handsome stranger by the sleeve of his fitted navy pullover and dragged him in my direction.

  My face flamed as I watched the younger man approach, his blue eyes sparkling and his cheeks dimpling as he smiled. I’d never seen him before, but the way he gazed at me—as if he’d crossed a desert to drink me in—made me uncomfortable.

  Dad’s uncharacteristically eager expression didn’t do anything to allay my anxiety. “Liam, this is my beautiful daughter, Ivie.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss McKie,” he said with a faint Scottish accent and extended his hand. “Your father’s told me so much about you.”

  His fingers curled around mine, and I darted my eyes from Liam to Dad then back again. I seemed to be the only one in the room not in on the secret. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, but it would seem I’m at a disadvantage. My father hasn’t mentioned you at all.”

  Chapter 2

  “Oh, now don’t be silly.” My father sputtered and coughed into his closed fist, his shifty eyes avoiding my guarded ones. “Of course I’ve mentioned Liam. At least once or twice.”

  “No, Dad, you didn’t.” I gave him my sternest glare then turned my attention to the stranger. He didn’t look dangerous. But my dad—unlike Liam with his relaxed posture and easy smile—was wound up tighter than an eight-day clock. I didn’t need to be a witch to figure out he was up to something.

  “He’s my apprentice.” A wide smile cracked my father’s delicately lined face, and a matching one spread across Liam’s.

  That prickle of intuition at the base of my neck came back. “Apprentice? What do you mean by apprentice?” Since when do chemistry professors have apprentices?

  “Your father’s helping me with an important spell.” Liam’s soft, lilting voice wrapped around me like a hug. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”

  “A spell? As in magic?” What? My mouth dropped open, and my eyes shifted between him and my father. The pair of them grinned at me as if we were discussing interest rates, not deep, dark family secrets. “Are we letting the cat out of the bag all over town?” I choked back a giggle as the memory of my father the cat flashed back. “So to speak, I mean.”

  They both nodded.

  “But I thought only… How can he…?” To say I was confused would have been an understatement.

  “Oh, Liam comes from a long line of sorcerers, not the same line as ours, of course… but a long line just the same.”

  There are lines? As in plural? “And he’s been doing magic?” My voice squeaked on the last word. I whipped my head around to study the young Scottish sorcerer to my left. “But your…” I reached a hand up toward his head but pulled it back at the last moment. “There’s no red. When I did”—I used my finger to wiggle my nose from side to side like Samantha from Bewitched—“my, um, you know…” I glanced down at my chest then quickly looked away. “And my hair… And, Daddy, you have red streaks. But his hair is as dark as mine. How…?” I struggled to find the words.

  My father waved me off. “Oh, pish posh. The red hair is a McKie family trait. Liam is a McDougall. Their hair doesn’t change color.”

  “Doesn’t change…” My head bobbed a few times as my eyes trailed down the front of my father’s apprentice, searching for any telltale signs of magic. “So if your hair doesn’t change… what does happen to sorcerers in your family?”

  Liam sucked in his cheeks, a pink hue coloring his skin. “Other things.”

  “Other things? What kinds of other things?” My mind raced with the sorts of changes that might occur. Clearly, the guy didn’t have a set of boobs swelling from his well-defined chest. I would have noticed that. But then again, neither did my father.

  “Now, don’t be rude, Ivie.” My father stopped me with a pointed look. “Some things are best left alone.”

  “Oh… of course.” A hot flush spread over my face and down my neck as the overwhelming desire to know exactly what things they were alluding to struck me.

  I shot another glance at Liam, and Dad’s large hands came together in a loud clap, bringing me back to my senses. “Okay, you two—it’s time we gave this spell another go.”

  “Now, don’t be shy. Take his hand.” Dad nodded toward Liam’s outstretched fingers.

  The look of longing in Liam’s icy-blue eyes made my stomach twist and clench against itself like a fist. His expression reminded me of a kid peering through a candy store window with no more than a few pennies burning a hole in his pocket as he drooled over the all-day sucker.

  The part of the all-day sucker will now be played by Miss Ivie McKie.

  Jack’s words came back to haunt me. No good would come of working magic with my father. “Do I have to?” I heard the whine in my voice. What was I? Five? “Never mind.” I shook off my niggling suspicions and patent distrust and tried to relax, reaching out to clasp his warm palm against mine.

  My father closed his eyes and let his head fall back until his chin pointed toward the center of our little triangle. He cleared his throat and let the incantation fly. “Double, double, toil and—”

  “Really, Dad?” I narrowed my eyes and shot him my best death glare.

  Liam barked out a hearty laugh, but I refused to join in. I gave up shopping for this? They were nothing but a pair of naughty boys poking fun at me.

  “Come on now. That was funny,” Dad said in his heavy brogue.

  I shook off Liam’s hand and took a step back, eyeing each of them in turn. “What exactly are we doing here? What does this alleged spell do?”

  “Do? What do you mean, do?” My father fidgeted with the paper in his hand, crinkling it up then smoothing it out again.

  I studied the faint shadows around his emerald eyes and the shocks of red woven through his salt-and-pepper hair. Maybe Jack was right. The magic did seem to take its toll on him. “Yes… what is the purpose of the spell?”

  Dad waved his hand through the air. “Oh, it’s just a little training spell. Doesn’t really do anything spectacular. But as I’m sure you’ve discovered, magic is a precise science—like baking.” He took a deep breath. “Too little yeast and your bread won’t rise. Too much and you end up with a big mess. Nothing good comes from taking a willy-nilly approach. You either do, or you don’t. No dabbling. Practice—as they say—makes perfect. We can’t exactly jump right into the advanced spells, now can we?”

  I shook my head, certain my eyes had glazed over.

  “Didn’t think so. Now, take Liam’s hand. There’s nothing a good binding can’t fix.” Dad smiled and nodded toward his apprentice.

  At a complete loss for words, I stuck out my hand, and Liam seized it in his.

  My father slipped his glasses to the end of his nose and began to read the words scrawled out in front of him. “Cò an gobhar sin còmhla riut a chunnaic mi an-raoir…” I suspected he spoke in Gaelic, but it sounded like garbled nonsense to me. “Cha b’e sin gobhar, ‘se sin mo chèile a bha innte…”

  Overhead, the
fluorescent lights flickered a few times, and a warm wind whipped around us, rustling my blouse and blowing my hair into my face. I felt a sharp tug from inside, as if my very life force had yanked free and was making a slow but steady retreat toward Liam.

  His grip tightened, and I welcomed the strange sensation as the energy flowed from my fingers to his and back again. My body hummed, sparks licking along the surface of my skin as hot oil ran through my veins. Our two strong forces converged, and I tasted the distinct flavor of his power coursing through me—like butterscotch candies with a dash of hot pepper.

  So this is what it feels like to have a magical convergence. Jack would be impressed. Who am I kidding? Jack would be livid.

  Liam’s pulse jumped, setting off at a pace to match mine. Above us, the lights flickered and buzzed. Then one by one, the rows of long, slender tubes exploded like a Fourth of July finale. I flinched, tugging my hand as splinters of glass rained down on us.

  “Don’t let go,” Liam whispered, and his hold on me became almost painful.

  The thrilling yet uncomfortable wrenching sensation gained strength as ripples of current surged through my extremities. Heat pooled between my legs. My body drifted toward the Scottish hottie at my side. The enormity of the situation weighed me down. I could have sworn something had slithered its way inside me and ransacked my thoughts and feelings. I felt as if part of my very soul had ripped away from me.

  I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  A low rumbling vibrated beneath my feet, and the walls shuddered. My pulse quickened then slowed as the moment passed. I noticed the faint scent of ozone in the air around us and the musical sound of glass clinking together as the containers on the table shook. The rumble grew into a growl, and I gripped Liam’s hand like a life preserver as several beakers tipped over, pouring their contents across the steel tabletop. Streams of liquid spilled over the edge like tiny waterfalls. A high-pitched keening forced me to pull my hand free from Liam’s so I could press one to each ear to muffle the sound. A wave of panic washed over me as fountains of bright orange flames erupted from the Bunsen burners, and the windows exploded inward.

  Holy shit!

  My father blew up the lab. Again.

  “What the hell just happened?” Crouched down on the floor with my head tucked under my arms to fend off the attack of the shattered windows, I barely noticed the warm body pressed against me. “Training spell, my ass! That was—I-I don’t even know what that was.”

  “Are you okay?” Liam took my hand and helped me to my feet. He hovered over me, picking shards of glass from my hair.

  “I’m fi—” I tipped my face up to brush off his attention and froze, on the verge of getting lost in a sea of periwinkle. “Were your eyes always so blue?”

  He chuckled. “They get a bit lighter when I do magic.”

  “That makes sense, I guess.” I tried to concentrate on anything other than his magnetic stare—the glint of light in the glass fragments, the dribble of liquid splashing against the tile floor, the acrid scent of charred air—but every time I flicked my eyes his way, my pulse picked up speed. And it wasn’t only my heart behaving erratically.

  “Other things change too, but nothing you’d be able to see right away.” His lips tipped up on one side, and he glanced down his body.

  “Oh… Oh!” I caught a glimpse of the bulge behind his zipper and felt the flush spread from my face, down my neck, and over my entire chest. Damn magic messing with my libido again.

  His crooked grin turned into a full-blown smirk, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Ivie! Are you okay, lass?” my dad croaked from under the table.

  “I’m fine. Just a bit… shaken.” Understatement of the decade. The wail of approaching sirens nagged at me as I struggled to break free from the glacier-blue thrall of the Scottish hottie.

  “I tried to shield her with my body as best I could.” Liam’s fingers whispered over my cheek, sending a fresh shiver through my body, from top to bottom. “She might have a few minor scratches, but nothing a bit of peroxide and a Band-Aid won’t fix.”

  “Good thinking, lad.” Dad stood, brushing dust and debris from the front of his not-so-white lab coat. “Already taking your role seriously.”

  “His role?” A wave of confusion almost as troubling as the situation at hand rushed over me.

  My father’s eyes darted between my face and Liam’s before a shaky smile tipped his lips. “As my apprentice, dear.”

  “Uh huh.” Suspicion twisted my stomach.

  Dad shook the dust from his red-streaked hair. “You worry too much.”

  Red-streaked hair?

  My hand shot up to my own tangled mess. “Oh no! My hair! Is it… red?”

  They both nodded.

  “Daddy, I need to go.” I shoved Liam out of my way while I searched for my purse and my keys. I knew I’d tossed them somewhere when I came in. “I’m sorry. It was nice to meet you and all that, but I have to make a quick stop at the store for a bottle of dark dye before I go home. Jack will absolutely flip if I show up with red hair.”

  “But it’s such a lovely shade.” Liam’s voice caressed me, and I trembled at the sound. “I’m quite fond of it, actually.” He twined a few strands around his fingers, tugging me closer to his warmth.

  My breath caught in my throat as I gazed up at him. “You don’t understand. I promised…” Pounding footsteps in the hallway interrupted my thoughts. “Dad, I can’t deal with this right now. I need to go. I can’t be here—” I was cut off again, this time by at least a dozen cops in SWAT team attire, carrying guns, at least one of which pointed directly at me.

  Not this again!

  “Angus McKie, you’re under arrest.” One uniformed officer read my dad his rights while a second cuffed his hands behind his back.

  Dad sputtered out excuse after excuse, but I was too busy panicking to listen.

  Liam gripped my arm, tugging me slowly away from the melee, but I wrenched free and whispered, “What are you doing?”

  He splayed his hands around my waist, his lips brushing my ear. “I’m attempting to get you out of here before you get—” He stopped, his body rigid, as he stared at something behind me. “Damn it!”

  My head whipped around to see what had caught his attention, and his grip loosened until I stood alone with several armed men surrounding me. I eyed a pair of silver handcuffs, and my heart leapt into my throat.

  “Don’t worry, Ivie. No matter what happens, I’ll come back for you,” he murmured from behind me. I spun around just in time to see Liam’s form shimmer in and out of focus until he vanished.

  As if he was never really there.

  “So, whatta ya in for?” the haggard old blonde drawled in her thick Southern accent as she leaned closer to me on the bench. Her stale breath reeked of cigarettes and cheap whiskey, and I had to tamp down my natural urge to recoil.

  “Umm… I’m not exactly sure.” I shrugged one shoulder and inched slowly away. “Blowing up a lab, I guess.” Part of me wondered if I’d hallucinated my entire day—like some sort of paranoid delusion. Could my dad have been cooking up something over those Bunsen burners that made me imagine the whole thing? Peyote maybe?

  She nodded. “Meth lab? Fragile operation, I know it well.”

  “No!” I gasped. More like a magical meltdown, but I couldn’t tell her that. “The chemistry lab at the university.” The same chemistry lab my father apparently didn’t get reinstated to, given the trespassing charges pending against us.

  Her lips spread in a wide smile, exposing a row of chipped and rotting teeth. “Don’t you worry, sweetie.” She scooted closer and patted my shoulder with Cheetos-stained fingers. “Cici won’t say anything.”

  I suppressed a shudder. “Cici?”

  “Cici.” She cocked he
r thumb toward her chest, reminding me of an old Tarzan movie. Her Cici. Me… in deep shit.

  “Oh.” I bit my lip and eyed the thick Plexiglas wall preventing me from escaping Cici’s fascinating company.

  “Well?” She made a rolling motion with her hand. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

  I drew a blank. “Oh… umm… Ivie?”

  “You sure?” She chuckled. “What the hell were you cooking before the explosion?”

  I barked out a laugh. What were we cooking? I still hadn’t figured that out. But if I wasn’t in some drug-induced nightmare, my father and his so-called training spell stank of secrecy, deception, and a healthy dose of Liam’s baby blues. “I don’t even know. I got there right before it blew up.”

  “Well, ain’t it just your lucky day?” She wrapped a bare arm around my shoulder, pulling me in for an awkward hug.

  I choked back a scream. She was too lifelike to be a figment of my imagination, and her clammy skin made mine crawl.

  “No worries, though.” She gave my back three sharp thwacks, nearly dislodging my molars, before releasing me. “You just stick with Cici, and you’ll be fine.”

  Stick with Cici? I inched away again, my lunch threatening to make a reappearance. Greasy cheeseburger crawled up the back of my throat, and I swallowed it down. “So um… Cici…what are you in for?”

  She averted her gray eyes, suddenly transfixed by the concrete walls. “Got into a scuffle with my roommate. She went and died.”

  I took a huge gulp of air. “A-a scuffle?” What did that even mean? I once got into a scuffle with a soccer mom at Goodwill. We both wanted the same pair of Burberry sandals. They were stunning: light-blue plaid, four-inch heels, big fat straps across the foot—Barbie shoes for big girls. I needed those shoes the way I needed air. She had the left shoe, I had the right, and the bitch refused to let go.