AARON STARED at the bracelet made of stones and hair as he absentmindedly listened to JD on the other end of the cell phone. “I’m sorry man,” JD said. “The Daughters think that Maeve’s baby will be some kind of messiah. She just isn’t available. Jolie said that there’s talk now about Maeve taking some final vows and retiring from public life after the baby’s born. They all say your match will show up soon and then you’ll barely remember her.”
Aaron didn’t say anything. This was the third person who had told him that Maeve carried this other guy’s baby, but all this time he’d been hoping they were wrong. Aaron wanted her baby to be his own. He wanted to be a family with Maeve, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen. Maeve had been clear from the very start, but he had been stubborn.
“Look man, I know it’s a bummer, but please don’t let it keep you from coming to the wedding. You’re the closest thing to a brother I have and I need you there standing beside me.”
“I’ll be there, JD. No girl’s going to keep me from your wedding. Call me if you need anything between now and then. I love you.”
“I love you too. Don’t do anything crazy, okay? Maeve’s baby-daddy is hell bent on keeping her from getting upset and he’s more than a little scary.”
“No, I know. See you.”
Aaron flipped his phone closed and lifted the bracelet from the jewelry box. He had planned to give it to her at the wedding. He couldn’t now. Aaron didn’t want to bind Maeve to him with magic when she clearly wanted to be with someone else. It didn’t sound like she was forced into anything, and she had enough people making demands on her right now.
The voice on the phone hadn’t completely explained how it worked but told Aaron what it could do. With it, the maker could subtly push her. If Aaron wanted her to meet him, she would seek him out. If Aaron wanted her on her knees, Maeve would desire the same thing.
He decided to get rid the bracelet. Aaron tossed the jewelry and the box into a trashcan and carried it to his balcony door. He gripped the lip of the wastepaper basket with one hand and unlocked the deadbolt with the other. He opened the door.
Walking out onto his back balcony, he was surprised by a group who stood on his stairs. The woman in front held up an odd looking handgun. A thick needle poked out of a longer-and-thinner-than-normal barrel. It made a thump sound like a paintball gun when she pulled the trigger, but the sharp hot pain in his chest told him he’d been shot. He fell, tunnel vision closing in quick. His body felt heavy and uncooperative. The can dropped and clattered away. As cold radiated from the wound above his solar plexus, he heard a familiar voice say, “Now all we need is a pretty little bow.”
“CALL HIM again.” JD studied himself in the mirror. The plain tunic and pants had a certain luxury, and the undyed cloth must have taken weeks to hand-weave. When Jolie had told him what he had to wear to wed a Daughter, he wasn’t thrilled. But seeing it in person was different. Both he and Lucas looked good. Aaron’s suit still lay on the back of a chair.
Lucas held his tiny cell phone up to his ear and waited. “Voicemail.”
“Again?” JD held out his hand and Lucas put the phone in it. “Aaron you better have a damn good reason for being late.” JD turned to the side and lowered his voice. “You’re the only family I’ve got; I can’t do this without you.” He disconnected the call and handed the phone back to Lucas. He went back to primping his hair. The usual fauxhawk had pink tips—a surprise for Jolie on their wedding day.
“He’ll be here. Don’t worry.” Lucas walked over to a chair and perched on the arm.
“I’m not worried. I’m pissed. He said he would be here.”
There was a soft knock at the door. The Abbess had given the guys her suite to get ready in. It was nice of her but they both got the feeling that it was so she could keep tabs on them.
“Come in,” they both said in unison, spinning toward the door.
Maeve’s head poked in but her eyes were closed. “Everybody decent?”
“Yes,” Lucas said rubbing the back of his neck.
She stepped in, her bodyguard in step behind her. The giant wore a leather cloak. Maeve wore a simple strapless dress made of the same natural material as the bridal party’s. The mid-calf-length skirt bustled a little in the back and she wore her usual corset underneath the bodice. Her long hair hung down her back, loose and virginal. Her only jewelry was a bracelet of stones. She looked around the room. Her brows furrowed, ruining the tranquil look of her ensemble. “Aaron’s not here yet?”
They shook their heads.
“Call him.”
“We already did. Five times. It just goes to voicemail.”
“Damn it! He shouldn’t be missing his own cousin’s wedding just because he doesn’t want to face me.” Maeve’s Guardian reached out and took her hand. She stared daggers at him before tearing it out of his grasp.
The Abbess ducked in. “It’s time. Everybody ready?”
“The best man’s missing,” Maeve answered.
Nathalia came inside, her trailing dress swishing softly on the stone floor. The ornate green vines stitched on the hems clearly marked her as the woman in charge. Her stone necklace, older and plainer than Maeve’s bracelet, barely peeked above the high neckline of her matronly gown.
“I didn’t say missing,” JD contradicted. “He’s just late. Can we wait a few more minutes?”
Nathalia looked to Maeve to answer. She, not the Abbess, officiated over all marriages. Maeve nodded, “Sure. When was the last time you talked to him?”
“A few days ago...Thursday, I think. He said he was coming. He was down; you broke up with him. But he acted like he was going to be okay. He certainly didn’t say anything about leaving town.”
Maeve declared, “He’s still in Austin.” Everyone looked at her, astonished. She closed her eyes and pointed northwest. “That way. Maybe twenty miles or so.”
“How do you know?” Nathalia asked.
Maeve shrugged. “I just do.”
JD spoke up. “I can feel where Jolie is too.” He closed his eyes and pointed out through the sanctuary but his arm was angled down.
Nathalia and Maeve exchanged a look. “That’s because you’re a matched pair. You’ll always be able to feel where she is. You received the call spell so you’re drawn to her.”
“Is she drawn to me?”
“No, she received the recognition spell. She knew you were the one as soon as she saw you.”
JD thought about how confident Aaron had been that he and Maeve belonged together. And Maeve just admitted that she knew where Aaron was. It sounded awfully similar to what JD and Jolie were feeling. The next glance between Nathalia and Maeve told him that they had come to the same conclusion.
LIBBY SAT at her antique vanity putting the finishing touches on her updo. Her hair might be gray but it wasn’t thinning yet. Wearing it up showcased her slender neck, a favorite feature of Leonard’s.
Most Renuntio clung to odd treasures. The ability to touch a thing and know its history skewed their value. Libby wouldn’t touch a diamond on the chance it was involved in the bloody trade war. A diamond might be forever but the violence in obtaining one definitely was for psychometrists.
Her dress was was her prize possession. It was silk, of the most pampered silkworms in the world. The Daughters in France wove using empty cocoons embedded with their protective spells.
This was the gown she was married in. Touching it took her back to the most romantic moment of her life. Peggy had been Matchmaker Primo then, presiding over her wedding to Leonard. Libby tried not to think about her friend and the pain she must be in below ground with the Capacitors.
Margaux had bought them some time but the Holy Ones would all suffer until Camilla could clear out the ever growing blackness at their center. That would only happen if they could find the source of evil and stop it.
She slipped her necklace made of blue river stones over her head. Laying her palm against their cool smoothness soot
hed her nerves. The tranquility of the mountaintop stream they’d been smoothed in seeped into her psyche. Libby used them like rosary beads before her skills were completely honed. She’d seen Nathalia finger her necklace in the same way, though it comforted her for a different reason. Libby would never touch those stones; they had witnessed the brutal murder of Nathalia’s parents.
Desire to go to the Abbess’ office pressed her to stand. A wave of nausea established Nathalia called with her telepathic ability. She demanded the librarian’s attendance but the only word that came through clearly was Libby’s name.
Passing through their living room, she caught sight of Leonard and their adult son Billy putting on the finishing touches of their own formal attire in Billy’s room. Her soft-soled footsteps were silent on the stone floor but they heard her open the door. They turned in unison with an unspoken question. She answered, “I’ll be right back. Nathalia called.”
“Wait,” Billy insisted.
“Yeah, how do we look?” Leonard asked. Then they both held out their arms, palms up, and gave a little twist first left, then right. How similar the two men in her life really were.
“Perfect. I’ll be the envy of every woman here tonight.”
She heard the sound of a high-five as she closed the door behind her. The one person Billy really longed to impress, Nathalia, had no eyes for him. She’d never see his value, had rejected every advance, barely suffered his presence on the compound. Libby didn’t harbor ill will toward the Abbess. The woman was messed up about men; her background made that understandable.
The walk through the library and then the sanctuary didn’t take long. It was about an hour until the ceremony and people started to trickle in. Libby greeted a few in passing and then opened Nathalia’s door as she knocked. Jolie’s fiancé and his groomsman pointed toward the closed bedroom door.
Complimenting them on their attire, Libby didn’t dawdle. If Nathalia hit her with another dose of mind-to-mind communication, Libby might upchuck on her wedding gown. She went through the inner door without a knock and closed it behind her.
Nathalia had let the boys use her office as a dressing room, but this was her bedroom. Her discomfort at having the Guardian here was palpable. He wouldn’t be there if Nathalia had any choice.
The Guardian was taking up more room than usual and Libby stole a sideways glance at him. There was a waviness to him, like looking through a heat wave. He only had eyes for Maeve’s waist. Guardians could sense when they were being considered so Libby pointedly ignored him so that she could remember the details of this meeting. She could think about this later if he didn’t block her memories.
Nathalia didn’t offer any greetings; something was troubling their leader. Nathalia asked, “Is there any record of a Vinculum being a match for one of her marks?”
No need to think about it. She’d memorized the histories. Libby shook her head.
“Is it possible?” Nathalia pressed.
“Possible,” Libby said. “Not probable. Sorry, Maeve. Aaron?”
Maeve nodded.
“Is there any way to see the magic? Any ability that can be used?”
“Not that I know of. An Iudex could, but she would have to be touching the spell caster at the exact moment. Maybe an Ingenium could make a detection potion.” Libby sympathized but couldn’t help.
Maeve piped up, “You could read my corset, Libby.”
“My ability doesn’t work that way. It shows me what happened while an object was being used, but seeing spells is impossible.” Not that she’d shy away from seeing what had transpired between a Levitus and a Matchmaker.
“You did it with Anne’s glove,” Maeve argued.
“No. I only saw the dancing, the spell casting, not the magic itself. We already know you cast the spells. I’m afraid my magic only deals with the physical.”
The Guardian interjected, “Our power source modifies efficacy and consequence.”
The three women stared at him. That was the first complete sentence Libby had ever heard him say. Like a person possessed, more than one voice came from his mouth. Goddess, she needed to be writing this down. Actually hearing the beast within him was something she wanted to remember. Don’t think about it, she told herself.
“You should be saving your strength for Camilla and the Capacitors,” Nathalia argued.
The Guardian raised his chin and tilted his head. “Our wellspring flows interminable.”
He offered his hand to Libby, the movement making her aware that his cloak was no normal cloth but supple leather. She wondered how many poor animals had to die to supply him with it. When Libby took his hand, she pilfered a feel. The Guardian jerked and then turned her hand over and placed a kiss on her inner wrist. Libby’s pulse jumped and she forgot about the living flesh-like texture of his cloak.
Libby gasped, then continued to draw breath as though her lung capacity was endless. She would have described it as falling if the sensation hadn’t been so akin to soaring. His touch was electric, invigorating.
Keeping his lips in contact with her skin, he lifted his lids and made direct eye contact. His eyes sparkled in every color of the rainbow. In them, Libby saw the powerful women of her childhood. First her mother, then her grandmother, even her great grandmother whom she barely remembered. They led her back through generations, farther back than even they could have known. The rewinding of time sped until she had to close her eyes. The Guardian highlighted the path that would disappear without him to show the way.
A foreign but familiar energy gathered in Libby’s hands. She felt tingly and warm. With the flush fresh on her face, she pushed the words from her muddled brain. She managed only two. “The corset?”
“I’m wearing it.”
The Guardian snarled, “You endanger the One.” Thunder rolled in the back of the Guardian’s throat and his eyes became raging fires. The hair on Libby’s arms stood up and her scalp tingled. The sensations snapped Libby out of her magical stupor quickly. But the Guardian’s anger wasn’t even focused on her.
Maeve took a step back, her eyes wide. The air crackled with electricity and the Guardian’s words came out as a growl, deep enough to rattle the window panes. “Never threaten the One.”
A monster now towered over the Matchmaker. Libby stepped in front of Maeve and slapped him. Hard. She could feel the women’s stares at the back of her head. What was she doing? Risking all her hard-won knowledge on the Guardians was what.
Libby took a deep breath. “For shame! Letting your beast get the better of you. Rein him in this minute. You know he would like nothing more than to kill the One.” The fire died down but a more alarming calm replaced it. She stared into his eyes and whispered, “Shock and stress can kill a fetus as quick as anything else.”
This was it. Libby prepared for the memory wipe but it never came. Purposefully those amazing iridescent eyes slid from her face to rest on Nathalia’s then Maeve’s.
Once she realized he was letting her keep her knowledge of him, Libby’s knees went weak. She put her hand on the Guardian’s arm in an attempt to steady herself and he allowed it. The cloak beneath her hand rippled, like the hide of an animal bothered by insects.
Feeling his gaze bore into the top of her head, she studied the leather. It moved like hide. Then it all came back to her. The times she’d seen his true form. His appearances out of thin air. The magic he wielded. When he had removed Camilla from Maeve’s room because her presence threatened any pregnancy. Wings. This cloak was not clothing at all. He used massive leathery bat-like wings to cover his nakedness.
Lifting her head to meet his gaze, in a hushed tone she asked, “What are you?”
He said only, “Cursed.”
He gestured toward Maeve with his head and backed away as far as he could. The conversation ended, Libby seated herself in a chair and tried to focus on the job at hand.
Maeve unzipped her gown and turned her back. “Be sure not to learn from the ties; they’re new.”
Libby’s magic had never been this powerful. Before she would have seen them having sex but this was so much more. She watched as the white energy grew, building inside Maeve. The architecture of the spells was complex. She waded through them until she found what she wanted. The magical language wasn’t something she knew, but her heart understood.
She patted Maeve. “Your magic is a true work of art. I’ve never seen spells before.” Libby smiled at the Guardian. Surprisingly, he smiled back.
Nathalia zipped Maeve back up as she asked, “So you could see the recognition spell on Aaron, then? Could you see the call go out, and the bridge between them and the Capacitors?”
“Yes and no,” answered Libby. “The call didn’t go anywhere. It settled right in Maeve’s chest. You and Aaron are a mated pair.” Libby could see the panic on Maeve’s face, not the reaction she’d expected with her happy news. She quickly explained, “It’s not like with Jimmy. You didn’t distort the spells to acquire Aaron for yourself. You just happened to be the best match for him.”
The blood drained from Maeve’s face and she covered her mouth with her hand. Libby stood and let Maeve take her place in the only chair. The matchmaker, Holy Mother to the One and mate of Aaron, said, “Then why am I ruled by the need to stay away from him?”
Stay away from me, Maeve. I don’t want you here. Stay away. Aaron focused his thoughts, hoping his will could channel through that wretched bracelet. He should have never made the thing. He’d probably condemned her to a fate worse than his, tied facedown and bleeding on a slab of carved marble.
The whip sliced through his skin. Aaron strained against his bonds as searing pain overtook his body. When the pain subsided, he focused his thoughts again. Stay away from me, Maeve. Stay away. He had no hopes for his own freedom. Perhaps he could save Maeve from the death he would surely face soon. Through the haze of the fading tranquilizer Aaron had watched the nude and shredded body of Rob the bartender being removed from the altar to make room for Aaron. He didn’t like the man, and hated the way Rob spoke about Maeve, but nobody deserved to die like that.
For the Love of Magic Page 17