Must Love Magic (Magic & Mayhem Book 2)

by Erica Ridley

  Through his clenched jaw, Trevor sucked in a deep breath…

  And remembered everything.

  Chapter 20

  There. She did it.

  Daisy indulged herself in one last glance at the dark-eyed professor who’d stolen her heart.

  He’d never remember the orchid-spiced breeze cooling their shoulders as he kissed her in Costa Rica. He’d never remember sweeping the contents of his desk to the floor in his impatience to make love to her. He’d never remember coming this close to, well, coming, beneath the velvet canopy inside the Human Containment Center.

  And he’d certainly never remember their weekend of pseudo-dating bliss, starting with libraries, trains, and tooth fountains and culminating in the best sex of her life.

  Why? Because he’d be too busy tromping through the mud on his digs, or sleeping on dead people’s teeth, or writing papers about the shipping habits of Scottish skeletons, or coaching intra-mural baseball.

  She ought to be pleased. He could finally be happy.

  Actually, peering closer, he looked more like he was in shock. Strange. Katrina had seemed more vacant. Entranced. Well, no matter. The ten-second window wouldn’t last forever. She couldn’t waste time standing around staring at him until he snapped out of his ForgetMe haze and started asking who she was and what in Hades she was doing in his laboratory.

  With a reluctant nod, she lifted her hand to her collarbone and whispered for Bubbles. The second the where-frog’s little green feet settled onto her palm, she heard a soft, hesitant, “Daisy?”

  She froze. Unless she’d accidentally conjured a name badge when she’d changed into her tooth fairy outfit, there might be a slight problem here.

  Flashing Trevor a brittle, panicked smile, she placed Bubbles back on her shoulder, snatched the ForgetMe orb from her purse, and shoved it within inches of his nose.

  “Forget. Forget. Forget.” Her voice coming out high-pitched and desperate. Almost as desperate as her heart. “Forget Nether-Netherland. Forget Nether-Netherland’s inhabitants. In the name of Mnemosyne, forget me.”

  A tiny muscle twitched at his temple. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Her breath caught. He was exhibiting a distinct lack of susceptibility to the ForgetMe orb. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She brought the orb up to her own face. Maybe she could be the one to forget. “The same thing worked on Katrina. Why isn’t it working on you?”

  The muscle under his temple pulsed faster. “You’re asking me?”

  She dropped the ForgetMe orb back into her purse and lifted her face heavenward. Once the Elders caught wind of this latest blunder, she was guaranteed a stint in Purgatory. She was still on probation from the initial snafu. She stared sightlessly at the endless counters. “What am I going to do?”

  “You can’t make me forget?”

  Was there something in his voice that—no, don’t be silly. He was just angry. Frustrated at the unexpected setback. Wasn’t he?

  “No,” she admitted, forcing herself to make eye contact.

  He gazed right back, expression inscrutable. He still had the longest eyelashes she’d ever seen on a man. And the best smile. Not that he was smiling now. He looked miserable.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “But you’re going to go away anyway?”

  “I have to.”

  She did have to. Like it or not.

  She’d made a major breakthrough with her newest wand and was positive she was close to perfecting the design. As soon as she could do magic on her own, she could tell Vivian to take a hike. And then Daisy could apply for apprenticeship elsewhere. Maybe even become a fairy godmother like Mama.

  Of course, all of that hinged on the success of future mechanical wands, which hinged on her returning to her lab for more experiments, which hinged on the judge not banishing her anywhere, which hinged on her being able to tell the court she’d followed instructions to the letter and put everything back to normal.

  Considering yet another spell had screwed up, her life seemed normal.

  Trevor shoved his hands in his pockets. “Now what? We pretend to go on?”

  She ignored the nausea in her belly. And the hope.

  On the one hand, she might’ve been secretly pleased to be unforgettable if he weren’t so callous about remembering. On the other hand, there was clearly nothing wrong with the spell. After all, Mama had made them both at the same time and Katrina forgot right away. She’d never heard of a ForgetMe orb expiring from disuse.

  So why hadn’t it worked?

  “The Elders will lock me away for good.” She tried not to hyperventilate.

  “How will they know?”

  She arched a brow. “Truth spell, anyone?”

  “Why would they bother? They didn’t before. That was all Vivian.” He knelt and gathered his fallen documents. “Besides, I won’t be there. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Daisy sat on her heels to help pick up papers. “You would do that for me?”

  “Why not? I’ll never see you again.”

  Daisy handed him the papers she’d collected and stood. So did he, their toes touching, their gazes locked together.

  “I see your point,” she said. And she did.

  She saw that she had no business even fantasizing about him being part of her life. The best thing she could do, for her career and for her heart, would be to take his offer and leave.

  This time, for good.

  She reached up for her where-frog—really she did—but her traitorous hand caressed the side of his face instead. Her fingers curved around the edge of his jaw, the familiar stubble scraping against her palm.

  He didn’t move. He didn’t lean forward into her touch, nor did he jerk away in disgust. He just stared at her from under those long lashes, his dark gaze unwavering and unreadable.

  She removed her hand from his face, bringing her fingertips to her lips and breathing in his scent.

  She let her arm fall back to her side. “Thank you.”

  He flinched, but said nothing.

  Daisy stalled for a long, awkward moment before retrieving Bubbles from her shoulder. If he wanted to stop her, this was the time. But he made no such move, and she couldn’t stay.

  She couldn’t have him. She shouldn’t even want him. She should go home, make her court appearance, and live a peaceful, humanless life in Nether-Netherland. She might not have love, but at least she’d have wings. Ignoring the sense of loss deep in her belly, she dipped her head to whisper to her where-frog.

  Trevor’s lips parted. “Daisy—”

  But she’d already spoken to Bubbles, and the rest of Trevor’s words were lost.

  Daisy lifted a brand new lemon yellow mechanical shaft from the Create-A-Wand assemblage press, and tossed the lime green wand in the lab’s recycle bin. After affixing a new star atop the sun-colored stick, she headed out behind the Neurophysics Compound for another round of testing with a smile on her face. True tooth fairies missed out on all the fun of engineering experiments.

  As planned, Maeve met her at the exit door this time. After a quick hug, they walked in companionable silence. Daisy had already confided a much-abridged version of the story to her best friend when she’d first returned to Nether-Netherland, and totally didn’t want to keep rehashing the same information.

  She was doing a fine job of dwelling on Trevor all by herself.

  They picked their way along the dewy trail, snaking from the compound to the woods. Mud squished between Daisy’s bare toes with each footfall on the spongy dirt. Maybe she should’ve arranged for galoshes to go with her lab coat. No matter. Perhaps this was the day she would finally prove herself magical enough to earn real wings. If this worked, she wouldn’t need clothes powder anymore. She would be able to conjure her own galoshes.

  Deep inside the woods, she aimed her wand and began the first few practice spells. After a couple false starts—and some hysterical snort-giggles from her best friend—the wand began to follow orders. Maev
e whinnied in surprise. Daisy could’ve done the same.

  Thank Isis, she must be close to conquering the secret to engineering a reliable mechanical wand. She tried a few more simple spells. Some worked. Some didn’t.

  She kept on trying, until a sudden thought hit her. If she did perfect the mechanical wand, would she be ethically obligated to return to Earth with a supercharged ForgetMe orb? Or would the ethical path be to leave Trevor in peace?

  She lowered her wand. “Can you think of any reason why magic wouldn’t work on someone?”

  “Sure,” Maeve said with a swish of her violet tail. “Lots of reasons. Poor quality wand, anti-magic invisible resistance shields, obstruction of True Love, incompetent spell-casting, interference by—wait.” Her impressive nostrils flared. “What magic are you referring to? Something to do with Mr. Eyelashes?”

  “Nothing. Forget it.”

  If there was one thing Daisy was even better at than neurophysics, it was incompetent spell-casting. She’d left out all the illegal parts of her story, just in case D.A. Sangre dragged her on the witness stand again. She couldn’t risk having Maeve put two and two together and figure out Trevor was down on Earth remembering things he wasn’t supposed to, and why.

  Today, however, her ratio had bumped up to five successes for every two failures. Well beyond statistical probability. She was so close to being magical she could almost feel wings protruding from her back.

  “Great work.” Maeve nudged Daisy’s shoulder and nickered. “It’s taken a while to get this far, but I have to admit. Your engineering skills are starting to impress me.”

  “Thanks. Neurophysics was easy, but artificial magic is a lot of work. The entire afternoon passed by in a blink of an—”

  “Oh, crap!” Maeve’s ears flattened as she glanced up at the darkening sky. “Work. Gotta go. If I’m late again, they’ll saddle me.”

  She took off, soaring up over the trees before Daisy had a chance to respond.

  After a bit more practice, she headed back to the Neurophysics Compound, washed and reclothed herself, and slid into the overstuffed chair behind her old desk. Bubbles perched atop her encephalopathic endo-periscope, eyes closed as though napping.

  While her where-frog might be indifferent to the newest mechanical wand, the artificial magic experiments were progressing fabulously. Even Maeve had complimented her! So why wasn’t Daisy feeling celebratory? Was it because she couldn’t get a certain dark-eyed anthropologist out of her mind? Well, maybe she should think like a scientist, not like a moonstruck would-be fairy. She should approach the problem logically.

  Daisy rummaged through her desk drawer for a pen and a piece of paper. Across the top, she wrote, “Why I Don’t Want Trevor Masterson,” and waited for rational inspiration.

  Nothing came to mind. Except the sound of his chuckle, the warmth of his arms, the passion for his work, the encouragement he gave his students, the thoughtfulness that had gone into the visit to the baby tooth fountain…

  She banged her forehead to her desk and sighed. This was going to be a very short list if all she could think of were his positive qualities.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll do Pros on one side and Cons on the other.”

  Her where-frog opened one eye and promptly closed it again.

  She drew a vertical line down the center of the sheet, labeling each side. She began with Pros.

  “He’s smart. Respected. Respectful. Thoughtful.” The pen slid across the paper, making row after row of neatly printed words. “Sexy. Fun. Friendly. Charming.” She paused. Better stop with the pros before she needed a new sheet of paper. “Now for the cons.” She nibbled the end of the pen for a long moment.

  “Anti-wings,” she wrote after a long moment, followed by “Illegal” and then, “Human.”

  There. Trevor Masterson, summed up in two tidy columns. Slowly, purposefully, she crumpled the paper in her fist.

  Gone.

  Was that symbolic enough to let her stupid heart move on? Daisy unfolded her fingers and stared at the mangled ball. As if he thought she was baring her palm for him, Bubbles leapt right on top. He ribbited sharply, as if shocked to discover a strange object in her hand. Wide-eyed, he perched atop the wadded paper like a trained bear at the circus.

  “Don’t be silly,” Daisy admonished him.

  He stared up at her resentfully. After all, it wasn’t his fault she was holding a crumpled ball of paper in her hand. But she couldn’t do anything with it with a where-frog sitting on top.

  “I’m serious, Bubbles.” She wiggled her hand in an attempt to dislodge him. “Get lost.”

  With a tiny pop, both he and the paper disappeared.

  Chapter 21

  Daisy leapt to her feet. What in Hades had just happened?

  She stared at her empty hands and empty desk and empty floor. Granted, Bubbles had been in her palm as though waiting for a teleportation request, but he’d somehow left without her.

  Impossible.

  Skin-to-skin contact was all it took to join him wherever he decided to—oh crap. She collapsed back into her chair. Bubbles hadn’t been touching her. He’d been touching an itemized list of reasons why she shouldn’t moon over an anti-magic mortal.

  Just wonderful. Her where-frog hadn’t run away from home in two decades, but Ganesha only knew where the little rascal was now. Daisy wasn’t looking forward to hiking all over Nether-Netherland for the second time in a month, but when your where-frog teleports off the job, what can you do?

  With a sigh, she pushed back the seat and stood. The Neurophysics Compound hallway filled with commotion. Probably it was a former coworker’s birthday. Or an audit. Crap. She sure hoped not.

  To protect them from prying eyes, she pulled the curtains on her Create-A-Wand machine and her star topper bins.

  She grabbed up her handbag and stepped out into the hall.

  An army of burly trolls rushed forward to surround her.

  “DAISY LE FEY,” boomed the now-familiar voice. “You are hereby summoned to the Elders’ High Court for violating the terms of your probation.”

  One of Daisy’s ex-coworkers careened around the corner with several of her ex-interns close behind. From the looks of horror on their faces, they were as thrilled about this surprise visit as Daisy.

  Heavy black netting scraped down the hallway, trapping her beneath the thick, scratchy web. She didn’t get a chance to ask what she’d done to violate the terms of her probation this time. With her luck, it could be anything. She hugged herself, her fingers ice cold against her bare arms. Judge Banshee was going to love having her back in court again.

  Shaking with trepidation, Daisy lifted her hand to her shoulder before she remembered that even her trusty where-frog had abandoned her for parts unknown.

  This time, she was all alone.

  When Trevor woke up alone, he felt neither rested nor refreshed. For the third day in a row, his bedroom just seemed… lonely.

  Sometime during the night, even his blanket had deserted him for the floor. His pillow had shot out from under his head and was now poking out of the white wicker trash bin beside the bed. Only the sheets twisted around his ankles like a 300-threadcount serpent.

  He kicked his legs free and stumbled to the bathroom sink. He managed to scowl at his less than charming reflection long enough to get his teeth brushed. Without bothering to shave, he headed straight to the kitchen for his coffee.

  The twin pair of no-longer-mint-condition vintage Chicago Cubs coffee mugs were not on his windowsill. They tilted against each other upside down in the dish drainer, probably dinging and scratching one another just to spite him.

  To the right, the glass coffee pitcher brimmed with ten cups’ worth of hot, steamy tap water. He’d apparently forgotten to fill the filter with fresh grounds the night before.

  Great.

  With a sigh of defeat, he plopped into the closest chair at the kitchen table and faced a few undeniable facts.

  One. He was no
longer a morning person.

  Each new day brought him a little closer to the tenure vote, and based on the hints Dr. Papadopoulos kept dropping, it wasn’t going to be pretty. Plus, it was hard to be cheery when even the coffeemaker was out to get you. Stupid machine probably missed Daisy, too.

  Two. He wasn’t going to publish in time to save his job.

  The markings on the pottery didn’t match a single printout. He couldn’t prove the damn things were or weren’t Costa Rican for God’s sake, let alone Scottish. Even if he happened to discover the highway to Atlantis this afternoon between classes, there wouldn’t be enough time to draft a decent treatise, publish the research in a respected periodical, and get said periodical in front of the department head’s nose before it was too late.

  Three. His life was not better. He did not feel normal. He felt upside-down and inside-out. Lost. She’d melted his brain with her touch and taste and scent. She’d colored every room of his house with her very presence until his world now seemed a series of empty black lines. He was angry. He was despondent. He was heartsick. And there wasn’t much he could do except muddle through and face each day as it came.

  He showered, dressed, and stalked into the living room to get his briefcase. A soft scratching sound crinkled from across the room. He glanced left and right to find the source of the noise. He nearly walked into the wall when his gaze landed on a tiny green frog perched on a ball of crumpled paper in the middle of his otherwise empty aquarium.

  Bubbles! Delight gave way to confusion. What the hell was Bubbles doing here?

  Was this Daisy’s idea of a practical joke? Or some sort of pity gift to say, “Sorry I screwed up your life. Here’s a get-out-of-jail-free card for when things go south. You can always come to Nether-Netherland and get a janitorial job at the Pearly States.”

  If Daisy realized she missed him—even a little bit—then she’d show up herself, not send a tiny green emissary to take her place. And if she’d sent her where-frog to tempt Trevor back to Nether-Netherland… well, as much as he’d like to see her, she had to realize how much trouble missing a single day of work was. He couldn’t do that again. Not with his job on the line.