Witchful Thinking (Jolie Wilkins #3)

by H. P. Mallory

  I glanced at Rand, who smiled before turning to Mercedes again, his jaw tightening.

  “Jolie said you brought her back in time?” he asked. Mercedes simply nodded. “Why?”

  Mercedes glanced at me with slight annoyance before returning her gaze to Rand. “Simple—she was about to be killed, so I saved her.”

  “Yet when you sent her back to the present, she was immediately killed,” Rand pointed out while I swallowed the last three gulps of ale and refilled my empty mug with just a thought.

  Mercedes’ lips tightened into a white line. “I had no control over the exact moment we would return and it just so happened that my timing was off … a bit. But may I remind you I brought Jolie back from the dead.”

  Rand nodded. “Yes, I’m well aware of that.” He was quiet for another three seconds. “Why did you need to bring Jolie back into the past in order to save her?”

  Mercedes arched a brow as if to say that she didn’t appreciate being interrogated. “I did not do it just to save Jolie. I also needed her magic to help transport me into the present.”

  “Ah,” Rand said, a smile void of humor pasted on his full lips. “In reality, then, you were using Jolie’s powers to help yourself?”

  “Rand, if she hadn’t escaped 1878, she’d have been killed by Lurkers,” I interrupted, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with Rand’s persistence.

  “Lurkers?” Rand repeated in a dubious tone, although he knew only too well who the Lurkers were—a group of humans who were part vampire and thus possessed incredible strength but could tolerate daylight. The Lurkers’ sole purpose was to destroy the creatures of the Underworld. They often lacked any sort of unity, though, so they were more like marauding guerrillas than soldiers, killing our kind whenever the opportunity arose. And, no, their attacks weren’t limited to vampires. Any sort of Underworld creature was fair game. Apparently they had posed a big enough threat to Mercedes to make her flee 1878.

  “Yes,” Mercedes interjected while offering me a grateful smile. “I saw the Lurkers kill me in a vision. When I realized I could harness Jolie’s energy and powers to help me out of my predicament, I acted on it.”

  “And you call yourself the prophetess?” Rand prodded, his tone revealing his disbelief and, furthermore, his impression that she must be a charlatan.

  “I do not call myself anything. Your kind chose to give me that title.”

  Rand, can’t you see her aura? I thought the words.

  As I mentioned earlier, I have the ability to see people’s auras. Humans usually have pink or violet glows about them; yellow or orange for those who are sick.

  While witches might have more distinctive auras than humans, Mercedes’ was a rainbow of colors that billowed off her in blues, purples, yellows, oranges, and reds. It was spectacular to say the least.

  Yes, of course I can.

  Then why don’t you believe her?

  “Because it is Rand’s nature to distrust,” Mercedes said, answering my question.

  I gasped in a mouthful of air. So Mercedes could hear our telepathic conversations … She was the prophetess and then some.

  “You would have us blindly accept that you are who you say you are?” Rand demanded, apparently unimpressed by rainbow auras and telepathic eavesdroppers.

  Mercedes shook her head. “One of life’s lessons is to learn how to trust in the things over which we have no control.”

  “Good luck,” I snickered, thinking Rand wasn’t exactly the blindly trusting type.

  Rand said nothing as he downed his cup of ale. Mercedes’ attention shifted back to me.

  “You have much to learn as Queen, Jolie.”

  “Such as?” I glanced at Rand, trying to decipher whether or not he would argue against my being Queen. But he merely sipped his ale and watched Odran. The fairy King continued to engulf the poor fairy woman in a wet, urgent kiss, looking like he was trying to swallow her in one shot.

  “Magic, history of all creatures, leadership, and propriety.” Mercedes itemized, ticking off the list of my lessons on her fingers.

  “Whoa, what?” I questioned. “Propriety?”

  Mercedes nodded. “If you are to represent the Underworld, you must do so with the utmost grace.”

  This job was looking worse and worse by the minute. “What about freedom of choice?” I started, remembering Rand’s words. “What if I don’t want this job?”

  Mercedes seemed indifferent as she answered. “There is no choice, no free will. There is only fate and destiny. And this is your fate.”

  Rand stood up and turned to me with a frown. Before I could say anything, he simply walked away. I wasn’t sure if I should follow him and was toying with the idea when I felt Mercedes’ hand on mine. I glanced at her in surprise.

  “There is unharnessed power inside you, Jolie. You have no idea what you are capable of. It is up to me to direct that power and shape it.”

  I didn’t know what to think. Yes, I constantly amazed myself as I learned more about my powers, but this did seem over the top. And I still hadn’t exactly decided whether or not I liked the idea of being Queen.

  “When does my training begin?” I asked in a small voice.

  “Immediately,” Mercedes replied. “As soon as we return to Pelham Manor.”

  So “we” were returning to Pelham Manor. I could only wonder what Rand would think about that little arrangement.

  “Rand will want you to be close to him, and if I am part of your entourage, there will not be much he can say,” Mercedes finished with a self-impressed smile.

  I glanced at her in surprise. “What, you can read my mind too?”

  She shook her head and laughed. “No, I can read your expression. And I can hear any thoughts you ideate.”

  “That’s why you could hear my conversation with Rand? Because I was broadcasting it?” I asked, trying to fathom the extent of her powers. She just nodded, which was a relief. I mean, who in the heck would want to have their innermost thoughts and secrets overheard? Not me.

  Now it was my turn to throw a wrench into Mercedes’ plans—a wrench named Christa. “My next stop is Australia, not Pelham Manor,” I said with finality.

  “Australia?” Mercedes repeated, and the surprised look on her face was an absolute Kodak moment. It was a shame I didn’t have my camera.

  “Yep, I have to go get my best friend.”

  Before the battle with Bella had started, Rand had arranged for Christa (who lived at Pelham Manor and acted as Rand’s assistant) and me to travel to Australia, out of harm’s way. Also, if Bella was victorious, Christa and I could have lived there off her radar.

  When I rebelled and insisted on fighting in the battle rather than chaperoning my best friend, I had to charm Christa to go on by herself with the promise that I’d come get her as soon as the battle was over. If I was still alive.

  Well, the battle was over and I was still alive.

  “It is too dangerous.” Mercedes shook her head as if to emphasize the point. “You are a Queen now, you cannot concern yourself with such commonplace trivialities.”

  Anger started boiling up inside me, which, mixed with countless pints of ale, was enough to give me a stomachache. “My best friend means more to me than being Queen.”

  Mercedes shook her head again like I wasn’t getting it. “It is not about her being more important to you—you have a duty to the creatures of the Underworld. Only you have the ability to unite them against a threat larger than Bella.”

  “A larger threat?” I repeated, wondering what the hell she was going on about.

  “The Lurkers, Jolie.”

  “Bah.” I waved my hand at her dismissively. “They aren’t a threat at all.” To me, they were more like a bunch of half-vampires with fang envy. A massive problem? I didn’t see it.

  “Lesson one: Never underestimate your enemies,” Mercedes said in a harsh voice. “Your duty now is to your people.”

  “My people,” I repeated, standing up, and throw
ing my hands on my hips as I thought about free will, which I still believed in. Just as Rand had said earlier, this was my choice. I didn’t have to succumb to a destiny that was thrust upon me. I could resist it. “I have no people—I’m not a Queen and I’ve never wanted to be one.” I took a deep breath before facing her again in all my anger. “I’m done with this farce.”

  Then, dramatically, I spun on my heel in a great display of outrage and walked away, wondering if it could possibly be that easy to leave the title of Queen behind me.

  JOURNAL ENTRY

  What to write about today … Well, since I can’t seem to get him off my mind, I might as well talk about Rand … gosh, where do I even start? I’ve already mentioned that he’s an incredibly gifted warlock. His magic is probably among the strongest out there … well, of the witches and warlocks anyway. One time I watched him spar with Odran and Rand held his own. He is probably more equally matched against Sinjin, who has an ungodly amount of strength and speed. As a vampire, Sinjin can bewitch his prey just by looking at her, but luckily for me his powers don’t work on witches. And unluckily for me, my powers don’t work on vampires.

  I wouldn’t say Rand is the strongest force out there—I know some fairies who could rival him, namely Mathilda. Really, Mathilda taught Rand everything he knows. And I think Mercedes could make short work of him. Well, she could make short work of just about anyone.

  I think I also might have mentioned the fact that Rand is absolutely beautiful. Even though he’s one of the handsomest men I’ve ever seen, it’s not even his looks that intrigue me anymore—it’s the man inside. Rand is the noblest, most loyal and honorable person I’ve ever met. He is fair, honest, and responsible. He would make the best husband and an equally fantastic dad.

  And there’s the rub. A huge part of me suffers when I think about it—about a white picket fence and the little house on the corner with two kids running through the yard while I bake brownies and Rand comes up behind me, surprising me with a kiss.

  The problem is that Rand and I will never have that little fairy tale. And I’m not even talking about problems like whether or not Rand will support me as Queen or what he’ll think about the fact that we bonded. What I’m talking about is the fact that witches have an incredibly difficult time carrying a pregnancy to term. As I understand it, this is only the case in witch-to-witch unions. I wouldn’t have a problem carrying a fairy baby or a were baby or a human baby. Vampires can’t procreate so that isn’t even something worth considering—although strangely enough the idea has crossed my mind … casually of course. But witches and warlocks successfully having offspring together is very unlikely, which is why our race is dwindling.

  I still haven’t figured out where the witch gene was in my family. Rand said there must be a witch somewhere in my lineage because the gene was passed down to me. It didn’t require that my mother or father be in any way witch-like, which must be true because neither of them is, or in my father’s case was.

  Idealistic family life aside, I always seem to find myself in a quandary where Rand is concerned. He has this pervasive sense of morality, and while I love him for it, he can also be beyond frustrating. Sometimes I wish he would just give in to his desires and act on them rather than analyzing everything into the ground. But Rand wasn’t always like this—in fact, he used to be pretty different.

  What I’ve realized is that I’m in love with two men—the Rand I met in 1878 and the Rand I know today. And although I love the modern Rand more, a part of me bemoans the loss of my 1878 Rand. I can’t help but flood my mind with memories—memories of a Rand who was less complicated, who acted on his desires, and who wasn’t familiar enough with magic to worry about its consequences.

  I play that stupid game of “what if” with myself all the time. What if I were offered the option to return to 1878 and live out the remainder of my years with 1878 Rand? Would I take it? I don’t honestly know that I would. I mean, if it were just a question of love, maybe I would, but as silly as it sounds, then I’d miss my modern Rand. Besides, there’s so much I have to do in my own time, I doubt I’d be able to bail on the here and now. And then there’s Christa, my best friend. I could never leave her behind—yes, I would miss her and all that, but more important, I don’t know that Christa could really take care of herself. ’Course, she does have her werewolf boyfriend, John, to keep her company and out of trouble. But even so …

  I guess none of it really matters anyway, and thoughts like these are just a waste of my time. I’ll never be able to go back to 1878 Rand, and for that I am sorry.

  I couldn’t get Rand out of my mind, thoughts of him in 1878 running headlong into one another. There was something inside me that was broken, something that yearned for the love we’d shared in the past. And while I couldn’t send myself back to 1878, I could re-create my memories.

  I wasn’t sure if it was warranted but I felt guilty as I held my hands up, palms facing each other. Guilty about the fact that I shouldn’t have been living in the past, shouldn’t have been focusing on memories that could never be anything other than reruns.

  A whitish light began to build between my hands. The more I focused, the brighter the light became, until I could barely make out the outline of my fingers. I closed my eyes and forced myself to remember, forced myself to bring to life a memory of a time long gone.

  When I opened my eyes, I smiled, but there was a sadness in me as I focused on the images wavering between my hands.

  It was Christmas in 1878 and Rand had just appeared in Pelham Manor like Santa Claus himself, laden with an enormous bag of presents. Pelham had been alive at the time, and together with his sister, Christine, the four of us had celebrated the best Christmas I’d ever had. I smiled as I watched the images of merriment made possible by my magic. It was with a sad heart that I continued watching, as Pelham and Christine left Rand and me alone. I knew well what would happen next, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the reel playing out before me. In watching it, I felt as if I were there, experiencing the same feelings all over again …

  “We shall be along momentarily,” Rand said in response to Pelham, as his friend turned to inquire if we would follow him into the dining room.

  Rand dropped his head and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him and returned his thrusting tongue. He pulled away from my embrace and reached for his coat, which he’d draped over the coatrack. Flakes of melted snow wetted the stone hearth. He fished inside the coat pocket and returned with a small gift, wrapped in silver foil.

  He handed the gift to me and I reached out, accepting it. I tore the paper off, letting the silver foil fall to the ground. Rand lowered himself to one knee at the same time that I flipped open the box to find a ring. It was a brilliant sapphire encircled by white diamonds that reflected the firelight onto the walls, like a prism.

  “I love you, Jolie. And I want you to be my wife.”

  I shut my eyes to stifle the pain that suddenly overcame me. God, if only I could stay with him and play full-time homemaker. If only I could enjoy him warming my bed each night and sharing the rest of our lives together. But I knew it was useless. I couldn’t stay here. Not when so much depended on Mercedes and me returning to the present.

  “Rand,” I started.

  He took the ring out of the box and slid it onto my finger. It fit … perfectly. “It was my mother’s. And now I want you to wear it.”

  “It’s beautiful, Rand, but …”

  He stood up and kissed me again, erasing my concerns with his urgent lips. When he pulled away, his face was flushed. “No more talk of returning to your own time, Jolie. Not when you would be endangering yourself. I simply will not hear of it again.”

  “Rand …”

  “If ever your safety is in jeopardy, that is enough for me to refuse.”

  “I can’t stay here,” I protested softly. Rand’s attention focused on my hands, which he clasped in his. I tightened my grip as I felt new tears rolling down my cheeks. “I hav
e to go, Rand, and I have to bring Mercedes with me. There is too much at stake if I remain here.”

  “What is at stake aside from your safety if you return?”

  I swallowed hard. “Rand, Mercedes will die if we remain.”

  He gazed with an expressionless face toward the fire. He didn’t answer but remained staring intently at the flames as they crackled and hissed. Finally he turned to me with a face full of pain. “Then we could send her back alone,” he stated, almost desperate. “I cannot lose you, Jolie.”

  I shook my head. “Mercedes is the prophetess and it was my mission to come here and take her back with me. We have a master plan to fulfill. I can’t abandon my responsibility.”

  “Jolie—” Rand started when Pelham suddenly appeared in the doorway.

  “Cripes, old man, are you joining us?”

  Rand nodded, but continued to stare at me. “Momentarily.”

  Pelham returned to the dining room.

  “Will you consider my proposal?” Rand asked.

  I nodded and marveled at the ring on my finger as it gleamed, representing a life of happiness—the life I’d always wanted. Dammit all, for one moment I’d pretend this could really be. Just for one moment. “Yes, of course.”

  Rand held out his arm and I ran my hand over the fine material of his sleeve, allowing him to escort me into the dining room. Yes, I’d pretend that Rand and I really could be a couple. That Christmas was truly a time for miracles.

  Silver linens covered the table, where a huge centerpiece of red roses, oranges dotted with cloves, and pine boughs dominated. Tall red tapers illuminated the great length of the table, which contrasted with the snow plastering the windowsills outside and the fire crackling in the hearth inside. It was a Christmas scene to end all Christmases, bar none. I sat opposite Rand, beside Christine, who seemed to be studying us intently. Once she caught sight of the ring on my finger, her grin grew exponentially. She picked up my hand and inspected it, suddenly addressing her brother.