She swallowed hard and pulled her hand out of mine. I blinked, startled at the sudden break in intimacy, shocked that I’d asked her such a deeply personal question, but more shocked that I desperately ached for the touch of her hand again.
I’d said I didn’t have an anchor, but that wasn’t entirely true either. Because when I was around her, when I held her hand and felt her skin on mine, I found my anchor.
I flexed my now empty fingers, flesh still tingling where she’d touched me last.
She was rubbing her biceps. The movement caused her sleeves to dip, and for just a second, I caught a flash of a dark stain on her left wrist. I frowned.
“You have a tattoo?” I asked with a thread of surprise in my voice. I don’t know why it struck me as odd that she’d have one, but there was just something so old-fashioned about Zinnia.
“What?” she blinked, as though startled I’d switched subjects. I should have done that sooner rather than later since everything was feeling so tense and weird now. “Uh...” She glanced at her wrist with a small frown marring her normally smooth forehead. “This? Of a sort, I suppose.”
I held out my hand for hers. I was a masochist, and I darn well knew it. It was obvious she didn’t want my touch anymore, but that didn’t change how much I still craved hers.
Being with Zinnia—for good or bad—was having an unexpected and not wholly unwelcome effect on me. I knew I should break up this pow wow session and go find Edward, but I was reluctant to leave this place that had, at first, felt macabre and sinister and now felt like a warm hug on a cold winter’s night. I was safe here, protected from the storms of life, sheltered from all the pain. I knew the second we walked out of here, I would have to grapple with it again. And again and again and again. I just wasn’t ready for that yet.
I didn’t move my hand, even as she eyed it hard. I was sure she would deny me. But then...
Her light touch made my skin feel electrified. I wet my lips as my stomach flipped and flopped. I carefully turned her hand over.
I didn’t have any tattoos, and neither had Elle. I’d never really found them all that appealing, to be honest. Why mark up what was already perfect?
I stared at the tiny image of a broken infinity symbol. It looked incredibly bold and fresh. My finger traced its smooth pattern, and I was fascinated as her skin pebbled beneath my touch and her breath suddenly trembled.
I liked the look of this one. It was a secret inked into her skin, and I had a crazy need to know why it was there and what it meant to her.
“This is very well done,” I whispered, glancing at her face.
Her eyes were rounded, the whites prominent, and she was looking at me with a mixture of emotions that I knew all too well because I was feeling every one of them right now.
Excitement. Reluctance. Wanting.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to let her go.
She reached for her unfinished glass of wine, drank it down, then poured another glass and knocked that one back too. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked to me like her hand trembled just a little.
I grunted. Neither of us wanted this, even though we both so clearly did. So it was time for me to be a gentleman and back off on touching her. Still not quite ready to end things yet, though, I said, “So, Blue Moon Bay is a little odd.”
I must have said the right thing, because the heavy knot of tension surrounding her vanished as suddenly as a blanket of fog over still waters at the rising sun. She tipped her head back and laughed. I was hypnotized by the sight of her looking so abandoned to her humor, like she was free and wild. For a moment, I suffered a dizzy wave of... something, vertigo, déjà vu... though that wasn’t it either. It felt like Zinnia didn’t belong here.
Not here in Blue Moon Bay, because she very much did. She was as strange and odd as everyone else I’d met. But she didn’t belong here, in this time, in this era. She looked like something out of an old Hollywood movie, like Greta Garbo or Hedy Lamar. Her smooth, porcelain skin, her fine-boned brow, the way she talked, how she dressed and moved... all of it. She was like a woman transplanted to a different place from where she should be.
My heart beat wildly in my chest, and I drank in the sight of her.
Finally, after several minutes, her laughter began to quiet. As she knuckled the tears from her eyes, she leaned forward and said, “On the level, I would have to agree. Though, tell no one I said it. I might find myself cursed for it.”
She winked, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, so what you’re saying is you really are a witch. And your aunts. And maybe Coco the mechanic. Butch the Sundance Kid and—”
She held up a slender finger. “Well, my aunts and I, yes. Coco and Butch, no.”
I nodded, pretending what she’d said hadn’t pricked my ears. But it had. She wasn’t really a real witch. That stuff was nothing more than fairy tales. But I knew her Aunt Primrose at least practiced. I’d seen the pentagram dangling around her neck.
I couldn’t help but search Zinnia’s throat for a chain or something marking her the same way that pentagram marked her aunt.
Glass-green eyes narrowed, and she stared back at me as though she knew exactly what I was thinking. She likely did. I wasn’t very good at pretending. I shrugged.
“Blue Moon was founded in 1717 by a colony of witches seeking to escape the persecution they faced around the world. Witchcraft and devilry runs in our blood, you see.” She winked, full red lips curving deliciously at the corners like she was hiding a secret, one only she knew. She was looking at me with mock pity, since I was far too simple to understand.
I snorted and rolled my wrists as though batting her words away. I’d only just promised myself that I would try to be more understanding of people’s beliefs, even if I couldn’t make sense of them. I took a deep breath and gave her a small smile. “Well, no wonder you all seem to have such a macabre sense of humor.”
She sniffed. “Macabre humor would be the zombies’ domain, but”—she shrugged and held her palms face up—“don’t tell them I told you so. They tend to be a bit on the triggered side of their emotions. Doesn’t take much to set them off, and let me tell you, dealing with a melancholy zombie is not fun at all.”
I laughed. She was insanely crazy but in the most wonderful way. She took my own words and made a joke of them, letting me know she wasn’t offended in the slightest when maybe someone else would have been.
I grinned, and she grinned back. We settled into an easy but contemplative quiet after that. I was nowhere near ready to leave, and it seemed neither was she, but ten minutes later, she sighed and said, “I’m sure Edward’s wondering where you are.”
I jerked, embarrassed that I’d needed the reminder, and stood. “You’re right. I shouldn’t abuse your aunts’ kindness any longer.”
Her eyes widened, looking startled for a moment. “Oh, I hope you don’t think that I—”
Unable to keep myself from reaching for her, I helped her to stand as well, delighting in the obvious thrill that coursed through her body. When she stood beside me, I felt the wave of her heat press against my own.
She was so tiny in so many ways. Delicate bones, and short but graceful limbs. I wanted to tuck her into my chest and just hold her, breathe in her smell of roses, and close my eyes.
But I couldn’t do that.
So I dropped her hand with much reluctance and stepped back. “Where is Edward?”
“He’s at my house with my aunts and one rather taciturn kitty, I fear.” Her smile seemed nervous, as though she worried that I wouldn’t approve.
“Does this mean I’ll get to see your collection?”
She bit her bottom lip with straight white teeth, making my pulse stutter. It would be so easy to lean over and take that mouth with my own.
In college, pre-Elle, I’d been known to shuffle from girl to girl, kissing anyone who caught my fancy. I’d loved women, but especially their soft, yielding mouths and how they would sigh and catch their breath right before I gently slid m
y tongue into their candied warmth.
Only once I’d gotten with Elle, no other pair of lips had ever caught my fancy again.
Until now.
Until Zinnia.
I moved a micro-inch toward her, without even thinking, feet moving faster than my brain. She didn’t move. She reminded me of a cornered field mouse, the way she stared up at me with her mouth slightly parted and her eyes half lidded.
She would let me kiss her. I saw the surrender in her posture. She would let me if I tried, but I’d learned one thing from my time with Elle. Kissing tasted best when there was more than just sexual attraction behind it.
Elle’s love had changed the man that I was forever. So instead of kissing Zinnia, I brushed my knuckles tenderly over her petal-soft cheek. It might not have been the best idea, because the second I touched her, I felt lightning jump from her to me, felt my blood hum and my bones yield.
Deep down, I knew that kissing Zinnia would lead places. Places I wasn’t sure I was ready to go yet. Maybe not ever.
Her small hand wrapped around my wrist, fingers loosely clasped, long black nails looking dangerous the way they pointed toward my throbbing vein.
“Zane,” she whispered. “I really think there’s something you should know—”
As she was about to finish her statement, the tent flap was tossed wide, and in stepped a woman I’d never seen before.
She was older, with flowing silvery-white hair adorned with a string of ivy, and skin the shade of mint. I would think it was the green glow that filtered through the parlor except that, with a flick of her wrist, the old woman stood in a halo of glaring white light.
I knew I wasn’t seeing magic, but the green glow, the fog, and the candlelight were all gone. Now there was hospital-grade light filtering in from only God knew where, and I was squinting against its harsh glare.
Her skin was still an unusual shade of green, and her large purple eyes were fixed on Zinnia. My skin crawled, the primal parts of me seeming to revolt inwardly, while outwardly, all I could do was stare in slack-jawed wonder.
“Aunt Hyacinth!” she gasped and jumped away from me as though scalded, looking like a scared child and making me blink at the quick transformation. “Why are you here?”
Zinnia clutched at her heaving chest, looking shocked and confused.
I felt the same.
She gave a slight shake of her head and gestured toward me. “This is Zane Huntin—”
Hyacinth, whose lips were now firmly pressed together, looked at me with an offended sort of indifference. “Aye, I ken very well who ye are, young man. Zinnia, we have need of you.”
“We?” she asked. “We who? Aunt Prim and Vi are with his son.”
It was the way Hyacinth refused to look at me again that caused all the blood in my veins to turn icy.
“Where’s my boy? What’s happened to my son?” I barked, causing Zinnia to startle and jump. But I didn’t care. Panic was beating its violent wings in my chest. How could I have been so stupid as to leave him in the care of people I didn’t know? I tugged at the tips of my hair.
Hyacinth brushed her hand down her corseted waist, as though flicking away a bit of lint. “Well, the truth of it is, laddie, yer son snuck off after Malachite.”
“That devil cat? What did she do now?” Zinnia cried.
“Cat? Snuck off?” I all but yelled, causing both women to startle. “What the hell are you saying? Where is he? Is he alright?”
“Aye, aye, he’s going to be just fine. It’s just... weel, he’s trapped himself in the mirror, is all.”
“Malarky,” Zinnia said with a firm shake of her head. “Aunty Vi promised me she would tuck it safe away. He can’t have found it.”
“Aye, weel, ye ken the head of that scatterbrained peon. Why in the devil would you send her off with Mirror, Zinny? What were you thinking? And you know the mischief Malachite likes to bring down on you. She dragged that sweet bairn right off into her madness.”
“Aunty!” Zinnia cried, looking hurt and irritated. “Please think about what you’re saying in front of Mr. Huntington.”
My head was spinning, my heart hurting. I couldn’t make sense of what they were saying, and I didn’t care to. All I knew was that my son was in trouble and they were both standing here squabbling like a bunch of roosting hens.
I sliced my hand through the air, cutting them both off. “Take me to my son, now. Right now.”
Zinnia looked at me guiltily and Hyacinth looked at me with an air of annoyance, but they both nodded at the same time.
“Aye, aye,” Hyacinth said. “Weel, boyo, you’re about to learn some truths about this town whether you like them or no.”
The next thing I knew, we were somewhere else. One second, I’d been standing inside the parlor. The next, I was standing on a carpet in a musty looking library, surrounded by Zinnia’s other aunties wearing identical worried frowns.
Floating, lit candles hung throughout the room. Violet was sitting on an antique blue couch, and Primrose stood just behind her. In front of them was a glass coffee table on a black skull pedestal. Resting on it was a cauldron bubbling with green steam and a perching, massive black bird that I hoped to God was stuffed. It blinked beady eyes, and I swallowed hard. Not stuffed, then.
There are moments when something happens that so completely shatters the constructs of one’s reality that it takes many long seconds before the brain can adequately catch up to what’s happened. That was me right that moment.
I blinked several times, fingers clenching and unclenching, trying to understand why the room I was in suddenly smelled of dusty old books and not popcorn and cotton candy. Why I was surrounded by women who hadn’t been with me just a second ago.
How it was that I could have possibly moved from a carnival pier to a house?
The straw that broke the camel’s back was the familiar meow of a cat. I’m not sure when I blacked out. All I remembered were the cries of female shock and then bang.
Lights out.
Chapter 9
Zinnia Rose
“WELL, M’DEAR. HE DOES’NA have much of constitution, does he now?” Aunt Prim toed Zane’s lifeless body.
I dropped to my knees, crying out as I shook him gently, trying to wake him. “Aunty, how could you? You know using magick on the non-magical is never pleasant their first time. Did you have to teleport us quite so far?”
She rolled her eyes at me, looking as annoyed as ever. Aunt Cinth had one emotion—irritable. Crossing her arms, she tapped her foot. “Aye, and what would ye have had me do, lassie? Time was of the utmost importance. Now, we’ve been able to seal tight the portals to the other realms within Illusion, trapping him wherever he’s currently at and keeping him safe—”
“Well, safe as can be, aye?” Aunty Vi chortled as she drank a wee claret.
Prim groaned and popped Violet on the back of her head. “Do shut up, sister dear,” she said, sweet as venom.
Violet pursed her lips, but said no more.
“And just where were you, Aunty Prim? I’m not going to blame Aunty Violet alone. You were both supposed to watch the young master.”
“Aye, and we did, we did.” She snorted, holding up her hands in supplication. “But that damned Mirror showed up right in the lad’s lap.”
“Bloody thing’s possessed, it is,” Aunt Vi said softly. “I did lock it away, Zinny. I promise ye.”
My heart hurt for the man snoring on my lap, looking more relaxed than he had just a minute ago. Just before his collapse, Zane had gone completely red-faced, and there’d been a terrible throbbing vein in the center of his forehead.
Knowing the depth of his pain for the loss of his wife, I could only imagine what the thought of losing his son had felt like to him. He couldn’t know the boy was safe, or as safe as could be under present circumstances, as Aunt Violet had reminded me.
“The charm. Did you happen to make it?” I asked, hope burning through my words.
Aunty Violet no
dded happily. “Aye, I did. Strange affair that, making me swear an oath to craft him one, almost as if ye knew.” Her look was canny as she studied me.
I shrugged. I hadn’t known, really. Had I? True, we didn’t often have children in Blue Moon Bay, and because of what happened to Old Man Tinker’s son, we tended to be very vigilant in our care of them. But I had felt a smidgen of unease earlier. I frowned. I should feel the same kind of terror Zane had, but I didn’t.
And not just because the boy was protected by the safety charm. It was more like this was supposed to happen. I hadn’t experienced precognition often in my life, but there were moments of it, like making the peace dough the night before.
There was nothing in Illusion that could harm the child. But there was a lure to remaining there, a lure that in and of itself could pose a danger after a while. I pursed my lips. I wouldn’t think of that yet. No need to cross that bridge until we came to it.
“It was your blasted cat, Malachite,” Cinth said. “I ken it. I turned back time just long enough to witness it. Not that you hid Mirror all that well,” she barked, turning her gimlet gaze on Violet, who was busy munching on a cookie.
Cats were not bound by the chains of magick. I wasn’t sure why Malachite had it out for me, but I had no doubt this move had been intentional, if I could only figure the why of it.
What would possess Malachite to unlatch the trunk holding Mirror? And why now, when Mirror had never been an enticement to her before? I’d thought Malachite had taken an unusual interest in the boy. Had this all been planned?
I placed my hand over my rapidly-beating heart. My tumultuous thoughts were interrupted by Zane’s sharp snore. I frowned. “He should have woken from this fainting spell already.”
“Aye, weel.” Aunty Cinth rolled her wrist. “His squawking was setting my teeth on edge.”
“Aunty!” I snapped for what felt like the hundredth time. “Wake him up right this instant. He’s lost his son. We have to explain to him that he’s going to be just fine. I’ll find him and—”
“Nay.” Aunt Prim shook her head. “Nay, my darling. Ye canna go it alone. No this time. Ye see, the link is him.” She tipped her round chin in Zane’s direction. “He’s the only one can draw his boy away from what keeps him bound.”
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