Hot Magic

by Catherine Kean

  “Good morning. Our breakfast meeting finished early, so we thought we’d stop by.” Cora’s wide-eyed gaze traveled over the chewed chair, scorched table, and debris-covered floorboards. “What happened?”

  “I had a problem to deal with earlier,” he said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s mostly resolved now.”

  “What kind of problem?” Cora’s companion asked, obviously intrigued.

  “Lucian, this is Roberta Millingham.” Cora gestured to the woman. “Remember, I told you about her?”

  Lucian remembered. Not only had he helped her during the storm, he’d seen her name in some of his grandfather’s records. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Roberta.”

  The older woman blushed then gestured to the table. “Is it too damaged to be repaired?”

  “I don’t really know. I haven’t had a chance to inspect—”

  “I can recommend a restorer, if you need one.”

  “Thanks. I might—”

  “He did some of the work on the Shipwreck Museum. Have you visited The Guinevere down at the waterfront?”

  Lucian’s grip tightened on the dustpan’s handle. “Actually, that’s one of the places I’d planned to visit—”

  “The museum’s been very busy since it opened. Lots of tourists. Visitors from all over Florida, too.”

  “Well, it’s terrific it’s so popular—”

  “Yes. Most exciting. We’ll soon be—”

  “Roberta,” Cora cut in. “Lucian hasn’t told us what happened to his shop.”

  “Oh. Of course. I do get a bit excited about the museum. I just can’t help myself. I know I shouldn’t talk so much, but—”

  Cora glowered.

  “Right,” the gray-haired woman said. “Lucian’s turn to talk.”

  “I had a problem with one of the light fixtures,” he said, setting aside the items he was holding.

  “Light fixtures?” Frowning, Cora took a step closer.

  “She doesn’t believe you.” Galahad’s head moved as he studied the antiques near him.

  “I’m hoping insurance will cover the damage,” Lucian added.

  “How did the fire start? Are you all right?” Cora’s features etched with concern, while her gaze fixed on the singed spots on his sleeves.

  “I’m fine.” Lucian sure as hell wasn’t going to mention his headache.

  His tail swishing, Galahad leaped up onto a side table.

  “Were you hurt at all?” Cora cooed.

  “Nope,” Lucian said. “Not hurt.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Galahad padding over to a small lamp with a ruffled glass shade. Before he could say another word, the cat rubbed against the shade. The lamp teetered, almost enough for the base to fall over.

  Lucian dashed over and snatched up the lamp.

  “Your cat caused this morning’s damage?” Cora’s tone revealed both shock and outrage.

  “Hey,” Galahad drawled. “I was just demonstrating one possible scenario.”

  “I know,” Lucian murmured.

  Roberta squinted. “You know your cat caused the damage?”

  Damn. “No. What I meant was—”

  His cell phone rang.

  Julius. Thank God.

  “I must get that.” He set the lamp on the counter and picked up his cell. “Sorry, Ladies, but this call’s important.”

  Cora waved at him. “You go ahead. Roberta and I will clean up the mess for you.”

  Ring.

  “Thanks, but that’s not necc—”

  “We insist.” Cora shoved the broom into Roberta’s hand. “We’ll have this place tidied up in no time. I’ll call Diane and a few others to help.”

  Ring.

  “Really, I appreciate the offer, but—”

  “You’ll owe the Historical Society.” Roberta smiled. “We’re always short of hot…I mean, dashing heroes to dress in costume for special events.

  Dress in costume?

  Ring.

  “Okay. Fine,” he said.

  Roberta and Cora squealed like teenage girls.

  Crap. What had he just agreed to?

  Mentally shoving aside his dread, Lucian hurried toward the rear of the store and answered the call.

  Something awful was going to happen.

  Something catastrophic.

  Molly sensed the peril as keenly as she felt Agnes’s determination to crush Lucian. If only Molly could figure out exactly what was going to occur. But, the sorceress had learned how to mentally block her. Every time she tried to access Agnes’s thoughts, she was rebuffed, as if she’d walked into a solid mental wall.

  Molly shivered. Existing now was like being confined to a tiny cell inside her own consciousness. She could still smell, see, hear, taste, and feel, but she was no more than a living puppet with an omnipotent master. Agnes had made it clear that Molly would never again be able to control her own body or the words that came out of her mouth.

  Agnes had been horrible to Lucian in the antique shop. How desperately Molly hoped he was okay. But, he might not be.

  He might also have decided he didn’t want her in his life anymore. Lucian had far more reason to reject her than Howard ever had. Sadness wove into Molly’s heartache, because she might never kiss Lucian again, never share breakfast with him, or tease him while his eyes softened to a smoldering, chocolaty hue.

  Stop it, Molly. Don’t dwell on such thoughts.

  No.

  She mustn’t give up.

  She couldn’t.

  She hadn’t lost absolutely everything: She still had free will. She could still make her own choices, and she’d choose to do all within her power to help Lucian when he faced Agnes again.

  Earlier, after running several blocks away from the antique store, the sorceress had used Molly’s phone to hire an Uber. The car had arrived promptly, but Agnes had become annoyed with the young woman with spiky pink hair for not driving fast enough.

  The driver, whom Molly had recognized as a twenty-something cashier from a local store, had met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “I’m not going to go over the speed limit. Don’t like it? I’ll stop the car. You can get out.”

  Magic had kindled in Molly’s palms, and terror had almost choked her, because she’d seen firsthand what Agnes could do with such powers. Families with small children walked the downtown sidewalks, and if the sorceress’s actions should cause an accident or hurt pedestrians, Molly would be blamed. But, as though deciding to avoid trouble, the sorceress had fallen silent until the car had pulled into the driveway of Molly’s late mother’s house. She’d thrown a five-dollar bill at the young woman and gotten out of the vehicle.

  Shaking her head, the woman had driven away.

  Even as Molly had silently expressed relief that the driver was safe, a man rose from where he’d been lounging on the front porch: Crow.

  He grinned, and Molly’s sense of impending doom had deepened.

  No! she’d cried. I don’t want anything to do with him.

  But, she might as well have been pounding her fists against a stone wall.

  “We’ll talk inside,” Agnes made her say, while she unlocked the door and motioned for Crow to follow her.

  The cats didn’t come to meet Molly as they’d done every other time she’d returned home. After shutting the door behind the Dealer, Molly spied the four felines peering out from behind stacked boxes near the sofa.

  “You were right earlier, Rose,” Marigold hissed. “That’s not our Molly.”

  Her late mother’s cats did talk!

  If only she could enlist their help, but being animals, they couldn’t dial 911 or knock on neighbors’ doors, even if those things could free her from her entrapment.

  Truthfully, Molly didn’t know what anyone could do to free her from Agnes’s control.

  “How could we have let such a terrible thing happen to Molly?” Daisy wailed.

  Rose growled. “Lucian didn’t keep his vow. He betrayed us.”
/>   No, Molly silently cried. Lucian wouldn’t do that.

  With a heavy sigh, Petunia covered her face with her front paw. “After centuries of keeping that necklace from doing harm, we failed, because of him.”

  Lucian isn’t at fault for what happened. Molly silently wept. I’m the one responsible. But, even as she thought the words, she knew no one else would hear them.

  The sorceress forced Molly to glare at the cats. “Stay out of the way. Try to interfere, and I’ll kill you.”

  The cats drew back behind the boxes. One of them muttered, but too softly for Molly to hear.

  “So?” Agnes asked, as she walked into the kitchen, Crow a few paces behind.

  “Others are on the way,” the blond man said.

  Others? Who did he mean? How many others?

  “We have an agreement, then?”

  Crow smirked. “We do. It will be our pleasure to help you kill Lucian.”

  No! That must never happen.

  “And grow my magic,” Agnes added.

  “You are already remarkably strong.”

  Anger crackled within Molly.

  The Dealer dipped his head. “Of course, it will benefit us all for you to be stronger still.”

  The sorceress smiled then forced Molly to retrieve the folder of Historical Society notes which she handed to him.

  He opened the file and glanced through the top papers. “We’ll start with the Hendrickson relatives in Florida, as you suggested.”

  No. No!

  “Good. We’ll start as soon as I have the necklace. I told Lucian to bring it here. He might be stupid, though, and try to be heroic.”

  Crow’s gaze wandered down Molly’s body. “He’ll do as you asked. He’s smitten. He’ll also believe he still has a chance to rescue her.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Almost a Category Five.

  The danger was nearly beyond critical.

  To non-Magicals, Molly’s late mother’s house would look no different than any other residence in the neighborhood. But, Lucian had seen the black, tornado-like funnel of magic swirling over the home long before reaching the area.

  Crow’s vehicle was parked one house down. Lucian pulled into the curb. Better not to use the driveway and risk getting blocked in by other vehicles. A grim smile touched his mouth, because such thoughts implied he’d actually survive the coming battle and would, at some point, be leaving.

  After switching off the engine, he turned to Galahad, who hadn’t said a single word since leaving Cora and Roberta at the store, but had stared out the window the entire drive.

  The cat returned his gaze. “Lucian….”

  There were things Lucian had wanted to say to the lad, but now that the time had come, he didn’t want to add to the strain Galahad was clearly feeling. Instead, he reached over and scratched the cat’s neck, the way the feline liked. “You’ve been an excellent squire to me. Thank you.”

  “That sounds like goodbye.”

  It likely was.

  The feline rubbed his whiskered cheek against Lucian’s hand. “I couldn’t have asked for a better owner.”

  Aww, how nice—

  “So, you’d better go kick ass.”

  “I intend to.”

  “Good, because if you let that bitch win, or if you die, I’ll never forgive you. Got it?”

  Lucian’s eyes burned as his thoughts slipped back to his conversation a short while ago with Julius. The Expert had ordered him to kill Molly. Slaying her might not eliminate Agnes’s life essence, or force the sorceress back into the necklace, but would at least temporarily stop the threat she posed—until The Experts figured out how to eliminate her.

  The thought of killing a woman who meant a great deal to him made Lucian want to throw open the car door and retch.

  Yet, the Molly he’d grown to love might not even exist anymore. Agnes could have already wiped out every trace of her.

  Damn Agnes.

  Damn the gold that had allowed her to survive in that damned bloody box.

  And damn bloody DNA.

  He shoved the car door open. The storm over the house, lit by flashes of lightning, howled like thousands of souls in Purgatory.

  Shrugging off a ghastly chill, Lucian got out.

  Galahad clambered onto the driver’s seat. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No. Stay here.” Leaning in, Lucian grabbed the box holding the necklace from the console between the front and passenger seats.

  “I’m going.” The cat jumped out before Lucian could shut the door. “A squire always stays with his knight. I’m with you until the end.”

  “All right,” Lucian said gruffly.

  For an instant, the magical chain mail he wore gleamed like iron links. While the enchanted armor was invisible to non-Magicals, Agnes would see it. She’d know he intended to fight with the conviction and honor he’d not once forsaken, before or after her curse.

  Lucian reinforced the protective spell around Galahad.

  The feline swished his tail. “Lead on, my lord.”

  With the cat running at his side, Lucian crossed the lawn to the house. The rotating winds, narrowing over the house, didn’t affect the building or ground; but, Lucian had no doubt that if Agnes wanted, she could make the tornado wreak havoc or pull him up into the tempest. The fact that she hadn’t done those things told him she wanted a face-to-face battle—just like when they’d fought centuries ago.

  The front door opened. Crow stood on the threshold.

  The crunch of gravel warned Lucian of a vehicle pulling into Molly’s driveway. Snatching a glance, he saw the truck belonged to a yard maintenance company. Its logo cleverly disguised a serpent. No doubt more Dealers would be arriving at any moment.

  Lucian reached the porch and stopped a few paces from Crow.

  “The necklace,” Crow said.

  Lucian gestured to the box in his left hand.

  “Prove it’s in there.”

  “It is.”

  “Prove—”

  “I can’t. I don’t have the DNA to get the box open. Do you?”

  The Dealer’s hands opened, as though he intended to attack. Then, perhaps receiving a non-verbal order, he nodded once, stepped aside, and gestured for Lucian to enter the house.

  Every one of his senses on high alert, Lucian stepped over the threshold. His whole body screamed a warning, because the magic he sensed was unlike anything he’d ever felt before: as cloying as toxic perfume, and as seductive as illicit dreams.

  Galahad darted into the living room.

  The four female cats peeked out from behind some boxes.

  Daisy meowed. “Look who has arrived!”

  “Liars!” Rose hissed. “Traitors.”

  Galahad approached the other felines. “We’re here to help.”

  “Now I know we’re going to die,” Marigold yowled.

  “Chins up, Damsels. We’re not dying without a fight,” the squire said. “Let’s think how we can help Lucian.”

  Magic kindling in his palms, Lucian headed toward the flickering light coming from the hallway near Molly’s bedroom.

  Fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The power emanating from that room…. It glided like wicked fingers over the magical armor surrounding him.

  “Luuciaaan.”

  The sultry way Molly had drawn out his name—the way she’d addressed him in his fantasies—caused sweat to bead on his brow.

  He reached the doorway. Her head propped up by one arm, Molly reclined on the bed.

  Aww, h-h-hell.

  His throat went dry as his gaze traveled over her lacy black bra, black thong, and black stockings with seams down the back. He’d imagined her in lingerie, all vixen curves and shapely legs. Perfection.

  But, with Agnes manipulating this scenario, she would be.

  She smiled and crooked a finger. “Come closer.”

  “No.” Lucian fought not to remember the little sounds she’d made when they’d kissed; how much h
e’d desired her…as he did now.

  Yellowish-red light burned in Molly’s eyes. “Are you teasing me?”

  “Nope.” Forcing out the lie, he said, “I’m not interested.”

  Giggling, she trailed a finger down her cleavage to the front fastening of her bra. “I know you want Molly.”

  “Molly, yes. You, Agnes?” he ground out. “Never.”

  The smile on her face hardened.

  “Is Molly still alive?” he demanded.

  “She is for now. How much longer…? Who knows?”

  That meant he still had a chance of rescuing Molly. “Let her go.”

  “No.”

  “Let her go, and I’ll give you what you want.” He tipped his head toward the box he still held.

  Her eyes sparked. “The necklace is mine anyway.”

  “Not yet it isn’t.”

  Before he’d finished the last word, her fingers twitched. The box jolted in his hand, as though she’d cast a spell to take from him. But, the sparkling mesh of silvery chain-link light surrounding his body glowed, held strong, before becoming invisible again.

  “You won’t get it that way,” he said.

  “Maybe this way, then?” She thrust her hand toward him.

  He lurched as an invisible noose locked around his neck. His protective spell, though, kept the noose from tightening. Through the silvery light around him, he glared at her.

  Her smile broadened. “Oh, Lucian. You might as well give up now.”

  “Why would I—?”

  She murmured words that sounded like Latin. The dark magic abruptly thinned, became no more substantial than lengths of thread. Warning flared, even as the threads wove into the light around him, looped around the chain links…and under them.

  No!

  The threads converged at his neck and braided into a rope. Fighting not to panic, he reached up to grab the noose, but his fingers closed on air. The noose, though, remained in place. Tightened.

  “How arrogant of you, to think I wouldn’t break through your spell.”

  Somehow, she’d found the origins of his incantation. Fear knotted his gut, because that knowledge had been archived by The Experts long ago and stored in a secret location. How, then, had she gotten hold of it?

  The mattress creaked. She sat up then swung her legs over the bed. “Now,” she purred. “Kneel.”