Hidden Magic

by Amy Patrick

  “I see. So we’re in hiding then.”

  “Basically. Are you okay with that?”

  I squeezed his hand tighter and wrapped my other hand around his wrist, leaning against his arm as we walked. “As long as you're with me, I don’t care if I see another soul for weeks.”

  23

  Nic

  Two weeks later

  * * *

  The knock came early in the morning. I opened the door of my room to find a servant standing in the hall with Macy. A look of concern creased her face. I stepped out of my room, took her hand, and interpreted the servant’s unspoken request.

  “She says we’re wanted in the medical clinic.”

  “Do you think something’s gone wrong with the samples?” Macy walked quickly to match my hurried stride.

  “I hope not,” I said. “They’ve been working non-stop. If this isn’t working, I’m not sure what the next step would be.”

  When we reached the clinic, both Wickthorne and Asher rushed forward.

  “It works,” the younger healer declared, nearly shouting the words. “It works. The new formula completely cleared the virus from the infected blood. We should be able to administer this to anyone who’s been infected and see a complete reversal in their carrier status.”

  He looked elated, though a bit worn out. He and Wickthorne had been toiling tirelessly to create the right formulation of Macy’s blood, coming close several times but failing until now. Macy had been extremely patient, submitting herself for additional blood draws again and again.

  “The next step is creating a vaccine to prevent further infections,” Asher explained. “But at least the fan pod girls can be treated now. We have enough for a couple hundred of them. Wickthorne and I are working to create duplicate batches for the rest.”

  Wickthorne spoke up, though only to me and mind to mind. This is good news, of course, but there’s something else you should know. We noticed something strange when working with the British girl’s sample. The amount of virus contained in her blood continued to increase over the course of time we’ve been working on it. I’ve never seen anything replicate that quickly.

  He shook his head, rubbing the tension lines on his forehead with one hand. The sooner this treatment is administered to the infected girls, the better. They are not just ticking time bombs—they are the equivalent of nuclear weapons. Any human near them would be instantly infected and virulent within hours. Once this thing starts, it will move fast and devastate every population in its path. And if it’s true that the Italian Dark Princess can activate the virus simply by touching one of them…

  I nodded, understanding his meaning completely. I’d already directed Estelle to get to work compiling a list of the fan pod girls who’d been at the castle during the time of my betrothal to Alessia and up until Dr. Schmitt had released them. She’d told me last night she was nearly finished pinpointing all of their locations.

  Very well, I told him. I will leave today to take the treatment to the girls. I’ll have to visit each of the fan pod girls one by one, moving from country to country until I get to all of them.

  I only hope what we have on hand will be enough for all of them, he said. If the Plague starts to spread to the general population before you reach all the infected girls… well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen. Macy has only so much blood, after all.

  I shivered at his silent words, thankful she couldn’t hear them. There was no way I’d let this turn into a situation like those in the Elven histories, where my people used nymphs as sacrificial lambs, draining them dry for their own purposes. I was concerned for the human race, but if it came down to a choice between them and Macy, there was no choice. I’d grab her and hide her away somewhere until the carnage was complete—with or without her consent.

  Nox had offered to let us keep one of his jets at the airport in Oxford in case we had a need for a quick escape or for any other emergency. Asher had shipped some of Olly’s blood to his healer in L.A. as well, but as far as I’d heard, he hadn’t made a similar breakthrough. Now it was time to call my friend in the Dark Court to tell him of the healers’ success here and prevail upon his generosity—and his pilot—once again.

  “I need to go to the surface and make some calls,” I told Macy. “And I’ll be leaving immediately after that—as soon as I can pack.”

  “Leaving? Altum?”

  “The country. Wickthorne says the danger from the infected girls is even greater than we thought. I must take the treatment to Europe and begin treating the girls as soon as possible. Estelle is still in L.A. We’ll send her a portion of the cure, and she’ll take care of the few American fan pod girls who were infected and returned to their homes stateside.”

  “I’m going with you,” Macy said, her eyes wide with fear. “I want to go to Olly first, if there’s that much of a hurry.”

  “No, piccola. It’s too dangerous for you to be in Europe—”

  “I have to go,” she insisted. “She trusts me. It has to be me. And she can’t be swayed, remember, so I need to be the one to take her the cure.”

  I heaved a sigh. “I thought you might say that.”

  Reading the determination in her eyes and knowing my inability to refuse her anything she wanted, I caved in. “I’ll ask the pilot to make England the first stop on our flight plan. Why don’t you go ahead and start packing. It could be an extended trip. I’m not sure how many countries yet—I’ll need to ask Estelle when I speak to her.”

  I held up my phone. “Going up to call her now. Can you be ready to leave in about an hour?”

  “Sooner,” Macy vowed.

  * * *

  An hour later we were boarding the plane, preparing for the eight-hour flight back over the pond to England. It would be eleven p.m. on Friday night when we reached the UK—too late for a visit. Olly’s treatment would have to wait until morning. I had something different in mind for tonight anyway. Nox and Estelle weren’t the only phone calls I’d made before our departure. I instructed the pilot to land at London City airport. In the morning, we’d make the short hop to Bristol, where Olly lived.

  Once we were in the air, Macy and I both relaxed a bit. In fact, she was a little too relaxed, sitting close to me and draping her legs over mine, resting her head on my shoulder and playing with my fingers. It was messing with my very tightly held self-control.

  Over the past two weeks, we’d kept ourselves busy—and surrounded by other people. It was the safest thing to do. Every time I was alone with her, my natural inclination was to kiss her, and once I started kissing her, I didn’t want to stop. I wanted more—of everything.

  So I’d been as chaste as I’d ever been in my life, keeping our physical contact brief and avoiding being alone with her at all costs. The fate of the world literally depended on me keeping my hands—and the rest of me—off of her.

  But now… now we had eight hours of alone time. And the desires always simmering at the back of my brain had crept to the front, drawn there by her tempting nearness, her sweet, captivating scent. She stretched up and planted a warm kiss on my neck.

  “You smell good,” she murmured in a sexy purr, stealing the words from my brain.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  I sat straighter and shifted slightly away from her, looking out the window at the landscape spinning by in a dizzy circle as we lifted off and the plane turned.

  “I’m surprised a town this small has an airport,” I said, trying to distract her—and distract myself from the overwhelming desire to attack her.

  It worked—at least the part about distracting her. She leaned across me to peer out the window at the town growing ever more distant below us. “It must be because of the University here. See? There’s the Lyceum building—and the stadium. A lot of alumni fly in for football weekends—you know, the real football kind, not the soccer kind,” she added with a flirty smile.

  I smiled back. “There are millions of football fans across Europe, Africa, Australia, an
d South America who would argue with you about which is the real football.”

  She reached down and released her seatbelt buckle then scooted onto my lap, her impulsive nature taking over. “You are so cute when you get all ‘snooty French-Italian’ on me.”

  Sliding her fingers through the hair at the back of my head, she pressed her lips to mine. The pent-up heat inside me exploded. I was like a wild creature that had been deprived of food for too long and had just spotted a helpless prey animal. I basically attacked her with my mouth, my hands, devouring her sweet softness, fighting against a ravenous hunger that threatened to steal all reason and ability to control myself.

  A battle raged between my mind and body. The healers had formulated a cure, but Wickthorne had hinted that Macy’s part might not be done yet. My mind pointed out they might still need her healing power. I’d never let someone drain her completely, but I knew I’d have a hard time stopping her from donating more blood if it was necessary to create additional doses for the suffering humans. And her blood might become useless to the cause if I allowed myself to cave in to the compelling desire that only grew each day I was with her.

  On the other hand, my body argued, I’d already waited a long time. I’d been patient, and I was at this very moment on the way to begin administering the cure. There probably wouldn’t be a need for additional doses. I’d done my part without (much) complaining. I had the girl I loved this close to me, and I wanted her. Needed her. In fact, if she had my glamour gift, she’d probably be terrified to see exactly how strong my greatest desire actually was.

  Macy was not helping Team Brain one bit, squirming on my lap then shifting and turning so she sat facing me and returning my kisses with a passion that told me the waiting had been equally as difficult for her.

  Every nerve ending in my body was on high-alert—some were reaching critical mass. Her weight on my lap and the feel of her soft curves in my hands was setting off a series of connected explosions inside me, each of them destroying the parts of my conscience that cared about the fate of the world and leaving gaping holes for my self-centered hormones to rush in and take over. I had to stop this before the invasion was complete and my desire obliterated the human race’s chances of survival.

  Drawing on every shred of moral decency I possessed, I pulled my mouth from hers. Team Body objected immediately, but I forced the ragged words out.

  “Macy. Piccola. Wait a minute, mi amore. We need to slow down.”

  “No.” She breathed heavily. “The cure works. It’s okay. We can be together now.” Her soft lips came back to mine, and I felt myself melting back into a brain-surrenders-body-is-winning-the-battle state.

  Holding her shoulders, I exerted enough pressure to break the contact again. “We can’t. Not yet.”

  I was reluctant to tell her what Wickthorne had said. Knowing her, she’d immediately volunteer to give up every ounce of healing blood she possessed. I wanted to reserve the right to save her from herself if it came down to it, so I wouldn’t mention what he'd told me about what would happen if the Plague was released before we got to all the girls.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “We’re… not married. We should wait.”

  She wrinkled her nose and smiled. “What? Is that an Elven thing or something? I don’t remember you being all that concerned about your marital state when we were in Italy.”

  “I know—but I’ve had more time to think about it now. And now that we’re talking about eternity, I think we should do things the traditional way. Don’t you?”

  She sat back a bit and let out a long breath. “I guess so, but—wait—are you having second thoughts about us? Do you think you’re going to change your mind or something?”

  She hadn’t come out and asked, but I knew Macy had been wondering why I hadn’t proposed yet. My glamour told me it was her strongest desire, but I’d been waiting for an appropriate moment. I wanted it to be special, and while we were hiding out in Altum the perfect moment had not presented itself. I was hoping it would tonight.

  “No, definitely not.” I reached up to take her face between my hands. “I just don’t want either of us to have any regrets when all is said and done.” She would have eternal regrets if our inability to wait led to the demise of the human race.

  Gripping her waist, I lifted her from my lap and deposited her back into her own seat. “With that in mind, I think we’d probably better keep to our own seats for the remainder of the flight.” There was a small pout on her face, until I added, “You are a little too persuasive when you want to be.”

  She nodded and gave me a sheepish grin. “Okay.”

  I laced my fingers through hers and smiled back, then turned to the window again and focused on soccer stats as I willed my inflamed hormones to recede.

  After a while, Macy interrupted my (mostly) successful self-talk.

  “Nic… how do Elven people get married? I mean, within the Ancient Court, is there a certain ceremony or way of doing things?”

  “It’s usually a grand ceremony in the castle of the bride’s family—sometimes the groom’s, if the location suits better. Why do you ask?”

  She shrugged. “Just curious. I was thinking about Olly, and I realized she’s going to think we’re on our honeymoon. I told her that’s when we’d visit.”

  I nodded. “I see.” It was killing me not to blurt out my plan for tonight, especially when I could tell what was on her mind. I held my tongue though, determined not to ruin the surprise I’d arranged on the phone this morning.

  A car met us at the airport and drove toward our hotel in the city. Macy gazed out the windows at the impressive city skyline, smiling. “I loved being in London last year. What a great city,” she said. “Where are we staying tonight?”

  “The Shangri-La. It’s supposed to have unbelievable views.”

  “Oh wow. That’s great.”

  After a few minutes, as if it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, I leaned forward and spoke to the driver. “You know what? I think I’d like to get out and stretch my legs a bit before we go to the hotel. Could you drop us off in front of St. Paul’s?”

  “Really? You want to walk… now?” Macy asked.

  “I do. It’s a beautiful night, and I’ve always wanted to see St. Paul’s. It was designed by Britain’s most famous architect, Sir Christopher Wren.”

  “I’m sure it’s closed at night, though.”

  “That’s okay. We can see it from the outside.”

  The driver did as I asked, and we got out in front of the majestic English Baroque style structure. Macy stared up at it.

  “Wow. I didn't see this when I was here before.”

  Before he drove away, I leaned back into the car and handed the driver an enormous tip, asking him to meet us later in a different location. Then Macy and I began our walk around the cathedral. The entire majestic building was fully lit by spotlights, from its colossal dome to its columned porticos, the white stone glowing and visible to nearly the entire city from one angle or another.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, her warm breath leaving a cloud in the cold night air.

  It was beautiful, but seeing this place was only my cover story for what I really had planned. After only a few minutes of exploring the grounds and admiring the building’s facade, I took her hand.

  “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

  “You don’t want to see the other side?” she asked, obviously confused.

  “I’ll see it another time. I just want to walk with you through the streets of London as the snow falls.”

  She grinned at that. “Okay.”

  Thankfully we were both wearing appropriate coats, and Macy had gloves and a hat as well, because it was cold. But it was the kind of calm, still cold that wasn’t uncomfortable, and indeed there were light snowflakes falling all around us, lending exactly the sort of magical air to the night I’d been hoping for. Occasionally other couples would pass on the sidewalks, usually giving us an isn’t
-it-lovely smile.

  After a few blocks, we reached a small, lushly planted park tucked into a street corner among the multi-story buildings around it. It was contained by a low stone wall and featured a variety of trees and shrubs and plantings, many of them retaining their leaves even in this season.

  “Oh, look—it’s William Shakespeare,” Macy cried, pointing to the bust of the famous playwright rising from the greenery.

  “It is. Would you look at that?” I said. “Hello Will, old boy. Nice work.”

  On the other side of the street, a group of four young men ambled along together, or staggered, rather, down the pavement, talking and laughing loudly. They appeared to have just left one of London’s many pubs and had been very good customers, from the looks of things. One of them still held a large bottle, in fact.

  When we reached the corner of the park’s hip-level outer wall, I stopped and leaned against it. “Let’s stop here for a minute.”

  Macy complied, stepping between my spread legs so she could burrow against my chest. She pressed the tip of her nose into the warmth of my neck. “I’m starting to get a little cold.”

  I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer. “Okay, we’ll head for the hotel in a minute then.”

  “It is beautiful, though. Did you arrange for this snowfall?” She looked up at the sky then narrowed her eyes in feigned suspicion.

  I raised my hands above my head. “You caught me.”

  Just then, Macy looked down and spotted the black and white block-lettered street sign affixed to the stone wall.

  Finally.

  “Oh my gosh, Nic. Look at this. We’re on Love Lane!” She giggled in delight.

  I slid from the wall and stepped back, pretending to have only now noticed the sign myself. “Wow. How funny. We should take a picture. Go stand in front of the sign.”