Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  At the thought of the future, Adrian found his gaze slipping to the couple across the table. Muriel and Jasper Grisomb were perfect together. As content with each other as field mice in a harvest bin. She was small and plump; he was big and compact. He liked their obvious respect for each other and he especially liked the way they shared secret threads of communication. The lift of her hand to his to gain attention, his return smile holding an emotional resonance that lingered long after she had found something new to draw his attention to. It had taken a lifetime of growing together to build those kinds of threads. He felt a slight ache above his ribcage and knew that he was envious of their happiness.

  He set his glass down abruptly, ice clinking. He should never drink when he was feeling melancholy. It unleashed too many unpleasant memories. He felt a sharp jab in his side and slanted his gaze to his right. Ginger sat looking at him, a suggestion of annoyance hovering around the edges of her mouth.

  “For heaven’s sake, Adrian, where are you? Muriel has asked you a question.”

  Adrian’s mercurial black eyes narrowed, and tilting his head back, he peered at the older woman who sat with a sweet smile, patiently awaiting a reply.

  “Sorry, Muriel, what were you asking?”

  “I wondered how long you had known Lloyd.”

  Adrian’s lips twisted into a cynical smile.

  “We met once — in the psychiatric ward of an Army hospital.”

  “You were the patient, of course.”

  Adrian’s mouth twisted into a sneer.

  “Of course.”

  “My God, Adrian, you never told me that.”

  The shock in Ginger’s voice was semi-accusatory, and Adrian suppressed a sigh. Where were the secret threads of communication when he needed them? Her shock had siphoned the blood from her face.

  “It was a long time ago, love,” he teased. “I barely remember it.” Her slender fingers twisted together and Adrian knew she was dying to hear the whole sordid story. He returned his gaze to Muriel. “And you, Muriel? What’s your history with Marks?”

  “Like you, Lloyd and I were friends for a short period of time. I interned at Duke University with him in the mid-eighties. As part of his Dream Laboratory Team.”

  “And you, Jasper?”

  The man who had been sitting quietly came to life. He removed his pipe stem from between his teeth and gave a conspiratorial wink.

  “Never met the man until today. Like him, though.”

  He returned his pipe to his mouth and the room fell suddenly quiet. Adrian realized they had now exhausted all the topics of conversation polite strangers could indulge in. He cupped the empty whiskey glass in his hand and gave it a twirl. Probing fingers touched the warmth of his outstretched hand and stilled the glass.

  “I’ve often wondered, Muriel, why Adrian is so reluctant to discuss his second sight with me. He admits to it but he won’t let me inside to understand it. Are all psychics so reticent about their gift? I would like to understand, for Adrian’s sake. It makes him so black some days.”

  “Get your hand off my behind, Ginger.”

  “See, that’s what I mean. All I have to do is mention the gift and his sharp fangs appear.”

  “Make your point, love. No need for Muriel to wait as long as an elephant’s pregnancy for the point.”

  Adrian saw Muriel’s lips twitch in amusement.

  “Are you really as jaded as you sound, Adrian? You’ll be the first psychic I’ve met who is.”

  Adrian shrugged, not about to confirm or deny her statement. She didn’t seem to mind, though as he saw her swing her attention once more to Ginger.

  “I myself am not so jaded about psychic gifts, my dear. I’ve had nothing but good luck attached to mine. But then, I am a trance channeler. I can pick and choose and turn the channel off when I want to. However, others, like Jasper and perhaps Adrian, are not so fortunate.” Adrian saw her transfer her clear gaze to him. “They suffer unwanted visions — visions that intrude and sap their energy. Visions that have haunted them since childhood in many cases.”

  Adrian didn’t even pretend to hide his discomfort. She was picking up some strand of time associated with him, he knew. Could sense it in his head. Her probing could be costly. Already, she had Ginger staring at him as if he was dirt-under-the-fingernails poor and it was her job to haul him up from the gutter. He shut his mind down from Muriel’s probing and stifled Ginger’s curiosity with a curt command.

  “Don’t ask about my childhood, O’Toole. Save your questions for our host … by the way, where the hell is our host?”

  His question produced a scornful laugh from Jasper, who swiveled in his chair. His pipe stabbed the air.

  “Meeting Miss Kelly. She was late in arriving.”

  “I hate modern women who enjoy being fashionably late.” Adrian leaned over and refilled his whisky glass. His gaze met Muriel’s smile across the table. She was probing his mind again, trying to make him feel less surly.

  “You’re really too unkind, Adrian. Janice’s flight was delayed. You can’t blame her for that. It’s the weather.”

  A door slam echoed in the outside corridor and Adrian gave a heartfelt sigh.

  “Well, it’s about time.”

  Fingers clasped his wrist and Ginger’s voice was low and throaty in his ear.

  “Behave please, Adrian. Stow that viperous tongue of yours. For me?”

  Adrian suppressed another sigh, raised his glass, and saluted her wryly. Hearing approaching footsteps, he turned and saluted the doorway with a smug taunt.

  “To late arrivals … may they … ”

  The words froze on his lips at the sight of the red-headed woman crossing the threshold with Lloyd. For a fraction of a second, he heard a pop in his head and his pulse did a rapid nosedive. In its wake, an icy chill swept into the pit of his stomach and crawled upward to constrict his lungs. Holy Christ! It was her!

  The glass in his hand began to tremble as his black eyes met her green ones across the crystal. A light, friendly smile greeted him. And then in the next instant, the glass in his hand exploded and the smile vanished. Shards of glass sprayed the air and Adrian shot to his feet with a painful yelp. His dinner companions bolted from their chairs as well.

  “Sweet Jesus!” The curse was out before Adrian could stop it — and hurled directly at the woman before him. For a brief instant, the group stood paralyzed before Ginger took control, snatching up a napkin and grabbing his bleeding thumb, which caused another muttered curse to fly from his lips. “For Christ’s sake, woman, there’s glass in there. Why don’t you just rip my thumb off while you’re at it?”

  She mopped at his thumb with her napkin.

  “I ought to. What the hell happened?”

  “The glass shattered; what the hell do you think happened?”

  “But you weren’t even clutching the glass tight. It shattered by itself.”

  “Give me a break, O’Toole. Magicians have been known to break things every now and then.”

  Adrian cupped his thumb with his free hand in an attempt to stem the heavy throbbing that was now part of the digit. Beside him, Lloyd picked up the remnants of the shattered glass and held it up to the light. Adrian saw his unspoken confusion and bit down on a rising curse. No, he’d not say it. Instead, he stared at the woman across the table from him. He let his gaze rake every inch of her as she stood anxiously watching Ginger’s busy fingers. Adrian didn’t leave his eyes on her face long. No, he didn’t need to study her face. It was ingrained in his memory. Had been since he was ten years old, and she had come to taunt him in youthful dreams. It was the body he now looked at, his mind dislocating itself from the pain in his thumb. Holy Vegas! She was beautiful. With a body more rounded than ever he created for her in any of his wet dreams.

  A sharp stingin
g pain assailed him and he snarled under the abuse.

  “Jesus, Ginger!”

  “Sorry, Adrian, I can see the sliver. If you just hold your hand still a little longer … ”

  Her voice tapered off and Adrian smothered a second growl. He transferred his gaze to the group, and while he gave a tight-lipped smile for their benefit, inside he cursed the flesh that felt as if it were a raging ball of fire. Ginger’s finger tweaked the sliver at last and he inhaled with a sharp jerk as she muttered “got it.” Feeling the pain dwindling, Adrian signaled to his companions.

  “Sit down, everybody. No use continuing to steal Miss Kelly’s limelight. She obviously needs to be the center of attention.”

  Adrian knew from her quick intake that his viperous remark had stunned Janice. So much for making good first impressions, he thought. But what the hell? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except to stop the aching in his hand. And of course, the one closer to his rib cage.

  “Adrian’s right.” Jasper echoed. “The scare seems to be over.” He sat himself quickly and Adrian saw him motion to the others, who dropped back to their places with less speed. Adrian didn’t miss the bewildered glance Janice tossed his way as she settled into a vacant chair. Holy Christ! He wanted nothing more than to offend her — to goad her into despising him. That way he could end his personal torture. Lloyd’s voice cut through the sudden silence and Adrian watched his attention return to the glass he still held in his hand.

  “Can’t imagine how the glass came to break. These crystal glasses are hundreds of years old.” His gaze lifted to Adrian’s face. “Are you sure you’re alright, Adrian?”

  “I will be if I can get Florence Nightingale here to wrap my thumb with a clean bandage.”

  Ginger came to life beside him, snatching up a clean napkin and twirling the fabric into a make-shift bandage. She then tied it around Adrian’s thumb, giving him a tremulous smile when she finished.

  “Too tight?”

  He heard the tears in her voice and reached up and stroked her cheek.

  “Buck up. You know what a clumsy lot we magicians are.”

  Muriel’s lilting tones crossed the table.

  “I don’t think you broke that glass, Adrian. I felt a strong electrical current just before it shattered. You felt it, I know, and I know Miss Kelly did. Her face gave her away.”

  Adrian’s mind froze. Her face? What about his? What had he given away? His mind-rambling came to a screeching halt as Janice picked up the conversation.

  “You’re right, Muriel. I did sense something just as the glass exploded.”

  Adrian felt his throat constrict and closed his eyes. What had she sensed? His fear? His rising body heat? For no reason he could think of, he felt his heart beat begin to race in his ears. Across his mind, vivid images formed, invading his senses. His hands spanning Janice’s waist, drawing her to him … the whisper of his breath on her cheek … his mouth moving over hers in sensuous exploration … the piston-driving strength of his body possessing hers.

  “Adrian?” Ginger’s concerned voice cut through his thoughts like a knife, severing the images. “You’ve gone completely white.”

  “It comes from bleeding all over the tablecloth and having to endure Miss Kelly’s inane comments about shattering crystal.”

  Adrian shot each of them a withering scowl in emphasis, saving Janice for last. Every curve of her body stiffened as she read his intense dislike and Adrian knew he was being a surly son-of-a-bitch. But what else could he do?

  “Have I offended you in some way, Mr. Magus?” she asked politely.

  “Of course you haven’t,” Ginger cut in. “Don’t pay Adrian any mind. He’s been in a black mood ever since the headache started.”

  “Headache?” Her look was startled as she leaned in to him, her confusion seeming to evaporate with the news. “Have you been experiencing headaches?”

  “One or two.” Adrian evaded. It wasn’t evasion enough, however. She turned toward the woman on her right.

  “And you, Muriel?”

  Adrian saw her brief nod.

  “Jasper, too.”

  “Lloyd?”

  Adrian swung his gaze in time to catch their host’s reluctant nod.

  “Psychics experiencing headaches is serious business,” Janice commented. “But for the five of us at the same time?” She let the sentence hang and Adrian heard the unspoken concern in her voice. What was she driving at? He drilled a probing stare her way.

  “Make your point, Miss Kelly.”

  She angled her head more toward him, her eyes boring back into his. Her tone was terse as she spoke.

  “Do you still have your headache?”

  Adrian wondered what she’d say if he told her he had an ache, but much lower down. Could he make her blush to the roots of her being? He had an urge to try.

  “Do you?” she prodded.

  He chickened out with a growl.

  “No.”

  She swung her gaze back to Muriel who shook her head and tossed a questioning glance to her right. Jasper shook his head and Adrian had the impression nothing much perturbed his even demeanor. Certainly not inane talk of linked headaches, which was what Janice was implying. Turning to the man seated at the head of the table, Adrian heard him verify their unspoken question.

  “Gone.”

  At the simple word, Adrian found himself the target of ice green eyes daring him to make a scathing retort. He refrained, listening to her sultry tones instead as she addressed Muriel.

  “I felt a distinct ripple while coming over on the ferry. I thought for sure I was going to tap in but something — someone — kept me from doing it.”

  “Someone?” Muriel asked, startled.

  Jasper’s pipe tapped the table.

  “Winter storms are often electrical in nature,” he advised. “Especially when it’s dismal like it is now.” He swirled his pipe in front of his face. “Don’t forget, as psychics, we run on electrical impulses.”

  Adrian pondered that thought.

  “All right, for laughter’s sake, let’s say we’ve all shared the same headache. So what?”

  “Strangers, living hundreds of miles apart, linked to the same headache?” Janice responded. “All of us about to meet each other for the first time? What are the odds of that?”

  “We’re all telepathically linked whether we know each other or not,” Jasper replied. “Given the right set of variables, I could tap into your thoughts from hundreds of miles away.”

  Beside him, Ginger stirred in her chair and Adrian knew she was unnerved by the talk of sizzling heads and tapping in. Feeling for her, Adrian placed a reassuring hand on hers, surprised to find it trembling.

  “Relax. Nothing more than shop-talk. If Miss Kelly were less free with her mouth and more inclined to stuff something edible into it, we could all face the next few minutes in a much better frame of mind. I’m starved.”

  His sarcasm roused Lloyd from his chair immediately. Reaching out, he uncovered the steam trays on the sideboard behind him and called “dig in” over his shoulder. Adrian was the first to bolt to his feet. Finally, some food to counteract the alcohol buzz in his head. Behind him, he heard chairs scrape and knew the others were following his lead. As he dumped a heaping portion of roast beef onto his plate, he heard Muriel remark softly to Janice.

  “Adrian’s rather hard to take at first, my dear. But once the shock of the first set down wears off, his barbs are highly entertaining. You’ll find it so.”

  “I doubt it,” she responded. “I don’t hold a black belt in mouth karate the way he does.”

  “All men are little boys and all little boys misbehave, my dear. Some more than others. Rather than losing your patience, it’s best to just search out the reason for their naughtiness and act on that.�
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  Adrian thought that a truly revealing statement and wondered what Janice would do if she learned outright why he was being so naughty. He forestalled further thoughts on the subject as slim fingers reached out and around him in search of a plate. Her light touch on his shirt back sent his pulses skittering again. When she straightened from him, the smell of her fruity perfume remained, mingling with the smell of roast beef.

  Adrian felt his knees start to buckle and quelled the tremor by moving back to the table. Once there, he attacked his mashed potatoes with grim ferocity. Who was she? A sorceress out to rend him apart? First in his dreams, now in the flesh. He loathed her. For smelling good, for looking good, for touching him and not seeing the result of that touch.

  He speared a broccoli stalk and stole a peek at Janice through lowered lashes as she rejoined the group at the table. He’d make her pay! Pay for all the torturous wet dreams he had suffered through as a teen. He tossed the spear into his mouth, and then tasting its blandness, he reached for the saltshaker only to have his fingers collide with Janice’s slender ones.

  At the collision, their minds linked to an erotic image of wet-soaked thighs, rounded buttocks, and orgasmic rhythms. Caught off-guard by the unexpected mind meld, Adrian shut off the image, severing the shared link. He felt Janice’s guard go up and knew she had been as disturbed by the vision as he had. Well, he didn’t give a rat’s ass. Let her stew. And as for his thoughts … so what if she had tapped into his mind at the link? He had tapped into hers as well. And he liked what he had discovered. She had come to Carrington House prepared to like him, but after his earlier rudeness, she had changed her mind. Now, she wished they had never met.

  Delighted to be the cause of her discomfort, Adrian tossed down a slice of roast beef. If she thought she had seen him at his worst, she was mistaken. He could be much, much worse. And he would be. She didn’t know it yet but her fortune cookie had just come up empty. His ribcage suddenly hitch-kicked and a staggering, sobering thought flashed through his brain. What if his fortune cookie had just come up empty, instead of hers?