Spellbound

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by Trana Mae Simmons


  The grayish light shifted like a pool of water, then began forming into a tall sphere. When Wendi tore her attention from it, she saw her mother standing where the white light had been.

  “Mother,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Sabine replied. “I’m here, darling. I’m here to let my killer know he has finally received his punishment for my death.”

  The grayish light never formed into a recognizable shape, but Sabine talked to it anyway.

  “You thought only of yourself, Julian. You didn’t care that Lucian, your own cousin, would be deprived of his rightful inheritance by your killing me. You would have killed Dominic if he’d come back from the war, also, so no one would know another Bardou heir was more rightful than you. You even killed your own father when he wouldn’t agree to never tell Nick about Lucian.”

  She glided forward, and the gray shape appeared to cringe. “When Nick returned, it wasn’t enough for you to have him deed Belle Chene over to you, was it? You knew if the truth of Lucian’s parentage ever came out, no family of blue-blood lineage, including Felicite’s family, would have anything to do with you. The other scandal had died, but a new one was brewing, wasn’t it? The scandal you would face when it came out you were the cousin of a warlock.”

  A howl of rage escaped from the gray shape, and it suddenly narrowed and grew taller, filtering into the air and across the loft. Out the loft window. When Wendi drew her attention back to Sabine, her mother was shadowy rather than fully formed.

  “Mother!” She held out her hand. “Please don’t go yet.”

  “I must, daughter,” she said. “But I’ll always be with you, as I have been all this time. You’ll realize now what it was all about--that the karma had to be corrected by Nick saving your life this time, so he wouldn’t blame himself any longer for my death.”

  Her gaze fell on Nick. “You understand now, don’t you?”

  “I think so,” he replied, but he gripped Wendi’s hand so tightly she thought her fingers would break. “I just can’t believe I’m standing here talking to a ghost.”

  Sabine laughed merrily. “If you try to insist later it was only the henbane, Nick, you’ll be wrong. You need to accept her as she is, you know. But you will. Dominic and I were starcrossed, but yours and Wendi’s path is now free of obstacles. You have to crawl out from under all your guilt, however, or you’ll never make a proper father.”

  Sabine faded in a twinkling of the eye, and Wendi whispered goodbye. She heard a faint answering acknowledgement.

  “‘Bye,” Nick put in, and Wendi finally managed to free her hand from his.

  “Nick, the next time we talk to spirits, please don’t try to break my fingers. I might need them for something.”

  “I’m sorry. I still can’t believe it.”

  He wobbled, then sat down on the ground, and Wendi hastily knelt beside him. “I still need to get the bitterroot for you,” she said worriedly. “Will you be all right while I get it from my room?”

  “It’s not that,” he denied. “I think I’ve overcome the drug. It’s--” Suddenly he looked at her in apprehension. “What do you mean, the next time we talk to spirits?”

  “I--”

  “And what did Sabine mean about me being a father? Wendi are you--?”

  He got to his feet and took her hand. “I’ll take you back into the house and you can rest while I take care of things out here. A woman with child needs to rest all she can. I at least know that much about it, although--”

  “Nick, hush and listen to me.” She tugged her hand free. “Nick, as far as I know, I’m not with child. But even if I were, I can’t leave you here to deal with things alone. I think there’s one more deed that needs handled.”

  “What? I’ll take care of it.” He pulled her into his arms. “Oh, I know what you mean. But I’m not about to ask you to marry me here. We’ll do it right. Go back to New Orleans and have dinner at one of the finest restaurants. I want to see you all dressed up and with candle light shining in your beautiful eyes. Candle light that looks like reflected moonlight.”

  She threw her arms around her neck. “You better be sure you want me to say yes this time, Nick. I love you.”

  “I love you, Wendi. I want you for my wife forever.”

  “Even with my magic?”

  “Even with your magic.”

  Thalia Thibedeau’s voice broke into the dreamy atmosphere surrounding her and Nick, and Wendi immediately bristled.

  “I can’t believe you don’t recognize her, Sybilla,” Thalia said. “Why, it’s plain as day.”

  Wendi stared over Nick’s shoulder to where Thalia and Sybilla stood, holding the statue between them. She didn’t see Julian’s body anywhere.

  “What are you two doing here now?” Wendi demanded.

  “We just dropped in to help you clean up,” Thalia said with a nonchalant wave of her free hand. “I put Julian’s body outside, in a coffin in a wagon.”

  “Aunt Sybilla?” Wendi said.

  Her aunt shoved the statue at Thalia and rushed toward Wendi. Nick refused to relinquish his hold totally, but Sybilla wrapped her arms around Wendi and held her close.

  “I’m sorry, my darling,” she said. “You don’t know how hard it was for me to let you handle this alone. But you had to do it. It meant your happiness for the rest of this life if you accomplished righting the karma.”

  “I know, Aunt,” Wendi said, patting her on the shoulder. “But what are you going to do about the part you still have left to play?”

  Sybilla stepped back, her face white and strained. “I suppose the Book’s up there wherever you found the statue.”

  Wendi nodded. “Yes, the statue of Psyche, the Roman goddess Cupid fell in love with. Not Aphrodite.”

  Sybilla studied her warily, and Wendi inclined her head toward the loft. “It’s up there, beneath some hay. I assume you didn’t find it because there was a litter of kittens protecting it, and you didn’t search in that corner.”

  Sybilla looked over at Thalia, who had moved closer to them. “Can’t you--?”

  “I can’t get it for you, Sybilla,” Thalia interrupted. “This is something you have to do yourself, if you want your own magic back at full power. That’s why we couldn’t get your dog to come with us. He isn’t supposed to help you.”

  Sybilla gulped audibly, clenching her fists at her sides and staring at the loft ladder. Very slowly, one hesitant step after another, she walked over to the ladder. Gathering her skirts, she ascended the ladder in the same manner--one step, a hesitation, then another. Finally, she disappeared over the top, into the loft.

  They couldn’t hear her footsteps, but here and there particles of hay filtered down between the cracks in the boards, marking her progress. Then they heard the hiss of a cat, silence, then laughter.

  “Go on with you!” Sybilla said. “Your babies are beautiful, and I want to hold one of them. Oh, they’re soooo cute!” She raised her voice and called, “Wendi! Wendi, there’s a kitten up here that’s the same strawberry color as your hair. Do you think we could take it home with us?”

  “What about Alphie?” Wendi responded with a laugh. “He’s not overly fond of cats.”

  “Oh, we’ll teach him to tolerate them,” Sybilla called. “Oh. Oh, look. There’s Sabine’s Book of Shadows. Right there beside the kittens’ nest.”

  There was silence for a few seconds, then the hay particles tracked Sybilla’s return to the edge of the loft. She peered down, holding a small kitten in one arm and a leather-bound volume in the other.

  “Catch!” she called, tossing the Book to Wendi.

  Nick reached out and grabbed it, and they watched Sybilla carefully descend the ladder, carrying the kitten with her. When she reached the floor, she turned to face them. Chucking the kitten under the chin, she said, “Because I hated cats so much, I never saw any baby kittens before. I didn’t realize they were this cute.”

  “They grow into cats,” Wendi cautioned her.

 
“Pooh. By then, I’ll love it so much it won’t matter.”

  Thalia moved over to admire the kitten with Sybilla, and Nick slipped his arm around Wendi. He led her out of the barn and down the path toward the gardens. Overhead, the moon had changed from orange to the soft, silvery light so similar to candle light. He didn’t speak until they went through the gate and settled on a marble bench.

  Picking up Wendi’s hands, he gazed at her as though they were the only two people in the universe.

  “She’s right, you know. You can come to love someone so much nothing else matters. I’ve been so steeped in guilt, it didn’t occur to me that others were suffering, too. And my own half-brother was one of them.”

  “You didn’t know, Nick. Instead of feeling more guilt over that, you should be glad you know the truth now. That you’re in a position to make things right for Lucian.”

  “I will,” he promised. What do you think of us staying in New Orleans? Cecile said Lucian loves Belle Chene, and I can make sure he’s trained to take it over when he’s of age.”

  “What about your businesses in California?”

  “There’s nothing there I can’t either sell or run just as well from here.”

  Wendi hesitated, turning her gaze away from him. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s time you came to terms with your own problems, Wendi,” Nick said quietly. “The way I have.”

  She rose to her feet and paced back and forth in front of him. “You don’t understand. Everyone here knows now, and it’s not just me who will be effected. It’s you. And our children. They’ll be called children of a witch, and it will keep reminding you of everything over and over again.”

  “You don’t trust me then. This has all been for nothing.”

  “Trust you?” She whirled, shaking her head and not understanding how he could be so dense. “It’s not about trust.”

  “It is,” he said. “You tried to avoid love once by marrying Colin, but you set him free when you realized he loved someone else. Then Charles tried to use you. Now you think I’ll never be able to overcome all that’s happened and stand by your side. That your magic and your being a witch will ruin our marriage if we stay here in New Orleans. You don’t trust me enough to believe I mean it when I say I love you. When I tell you how proud I will be to have you as my wife. Now and forever.”

  A tear trickled down Wendi’s cheek, and she brushed it away.

  “But--”

  “No buts,” Nick said. “All or nothing. Do you realize how much good you do with your magic? With the arts that come with it? I haven’t been this pain-free in the last ten years. And you took away that woman’s birthmark that day. I have no idea how many other good deeds you’ve done, but I’m sure there are hundreds.”

  He held out his arms. “Trust me, Wendi. Let’s stay here and make a life for ourselves.”

  A beam of moonlight flowed down from the sky, outlining Nick as though a hundred candles had flickered into being. Wendi stepped inside the circle of light, into his arms.

  Copyright © 1998 by Trana Mae Simmons

  Originally published by Jove (ISBN 0515123900)

  Electronically published in 2012 by Belgrave House

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more

  information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

  http://www.BelgraveHouse.com

  Electronic sales: [email protected]

  This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.

 

 

 


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