This Rough Magic

by Heather Graham

  Crunch...

  She heard it again, the ruthless, merciless sound.

  She found the door and wrenched it open. There were lights on here.

  They suddenly flickered out, and darkness descended upon her.

  “No!” she whispered.

  The door jolted closed behind her. Carly ran around, seeking some hiding place. Horses whinnied and snorted, sensing her fear. She hurried along the stalls. She could see nothing, but she could feel the shapes of each stall.

  The stable door opened.

  Carly lunged into one of the stalls. As silently as she could, she closed the door behind her. She moved around the restless animal and cowered, hunched against the wall, barely daring to breathe.

  She heard him. Moving. Walking slowly. Pausing. Walking again.

  Then the stall door opened, and a light shone into her face. “Carly...”

  A scream rose in her throat. She held up a hand, squinting beyond the light.

  It couldn’t be! It just couldn’t be....

  “Yes, Carly. Me...” he said.

  She dimly heard the horse whinny and nervously prance out of the way. She didn’t have time to move; she barely had time to scream. Then he slammed the flashlight against her head.

  * * *

  They were still in the process of driving back when Dustin first felt the chill of unease. He didn’t know what had brought it on, but it seized hold of him like a vise and didn’t let go.

  “Can’t you hurry?” Dustin demanded.

  With Gallic abandon the inspector used hand signals to indicate the fog and the impossibility of seeing the road. “I’m going as fast as I can. What is your sudden hurry?”

  Dustin gritted his teeth. “Because we know now!”

  Irritably LaRue glanced his way again. “We know! We have no proof. Just because this information came in, it doesn’t mean we have proof.”

  “I’m willing to bet my life,” Dustin murmured.

  “You still owe me one tremendous explanation,” LaRue said.

  “Yes,” Dustin said uncomfortably. LaRue still didn’t know who he was. Or if he had guessed, he hadn’t let on. And letting him in on the truth still didn’t seem a very prudent thing to do. That would leave both Jon and himself vulnerable.

  “We’re here,” Dustin said. The tension was rising in him unbearably. He tried to calm himself, tried to breathe, but couldn’t get the fear to subside.

  It was Carly. There was no reason why he should be so afraid for her, yet he was. It was daylight; the murderer chose to strike by night. She wouldn’t have been alone, anyway. She would have been with Jasmine and Jon, and nobody could touch all three of them, he was certain. And all the servants were there, too, of course.

  The inspector had barely parked before Dustin was jumping out of the car. He looked anxiously through the fog. Knowing the layout of the courtyard and the terrace, he made his way through the fog.

  “Attendez-moi!” the inspector puffed, breathless. “Count Vadim!”

  He couldn’t wait. He felt a growing urgency. He paused, thinking he heard a scream.

  The inspector crashed into him. “What? What?” LaRue demanded.

  He must have imagined it, Dustin thought. He didn’t hear anything else. Then he heard a wolf’s cry, a high, plaintive cry, as if the creature was confused by the fog.

  “Nothing,” Dustin muttered. He rushed on into the house. He burst into the library. It was empty.

  “God!” he groaned, his sense of urgency mounting.

  “Count—” the inspector said at his heels.

  “I can’t wait!” Dustin snapped. He raced back through the terrace and up the stairs. He burst into Carly’s room and saw that she wasn’t there. He tried to calm himself. Of course not. She shouldn’t be here, alone; she should be with Jon and Jasmine.

  He came back into the hallway just as the inspector reached it. He didn’t give any explanations; he hurried on toward his cousin’s room. He slammed his fist against the door. Jasmine opened it, staring at him anxiously.

  “Where’s Carly?” he demanded. He stared from Jasmine to Jon. “Oh, God,” he said, feeling sick. “She’s not with you.”

  “She’s not in her room?” Jasmine demanded.

  He shook his head.

  The inspector reached them. He looked from Dustin to Jon, then back to Dustin again. “So, I was right. You are back, Dustin Vadim, and you contacted your cronies because of your secret service connections, yes?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I ought to arrest you both!”

  “Inspector—”

  “I will have an explanation, and a long one!” LaRue insisted.

  “But not now! Carly is in grave danger. We must find her! Now, before it is too late!” Dustin exclaimed.

  Jasmine burst into tears. Dustin stared at Jon, and together they nodded.

  “The cottage!” Dustin said. “Where else would he take her?”

  “Wait. Maybe she is with Alexi—” Jon began. But at that moment, Alexi came along the corridor, attracted by the noise and the excitement.

  Dustin practically picked him up by the lapels. “Alexi, where is Carly? Have you seen her?”

  Alexi shook his head. “I tried to talk to her,” he said sulkily. “She locked herself in her room.”

  Dustin dropped him, turned and raced down the stairway. Outside, he blundered his way through the fog. He tore into the stables and found Satan. Satan knew his way through the fog. LaRue and Jon could follow in the car. Dustin couldn’t risk a single second.

  * * *

  When Carly awoke, she knew she was near a fire for it was very warm.

  Her head ached horribly. She strained to open her eyes, then to lift a hand to her head. But she couldn’t move her hand. She realized that she was tied to the bunk and that she was so warm because she was naked and the firelight seemed to be touching her body.

  He was bent over the fire. He was wearing a black cape and heating a huge, sharp knife in the flames.

  He turned suddenly as if he had sensed that she had awakened. She held back a scream, knowing it could do her no good, and prayed desperately that she could reason with him.

  They were in the cottage where Dustin had brought her that first night and where they had spent an entire day making love. She had promised here that she would believe in him. And she had betrayed that promise again and again. She had fallen in love with a man but hadn’t given him the faith he deserved. The doubts had torn at her.

  Now, ironically, she was here again.

  Hysteria bubbled within her again. He was looking at her, and she realized that he was staring at her with eyes that glistened with madness.

  “It’s almost ready,” he told her.

  “Geoffrey,” she murmured, “you don’t want to do this. I’m going to make you costumes. I’m...”

  “Beautiful costumes, Carly. You’re talented. I enjoy you. I enjoyed the others, too. Carly, it is an honor. I am unique among modern men. Death is so often in vain. Not for you, Carly. You will feed the beast in me. Do you understand?”

  He wasn’t wearing anything beneath the cape, she realized, though he did have gloves on. That’s why he could escape detection so easily, she thought. He would burn the cape and the gloves and wash away any blood. He was good. Ironically, he was sane enough to murder his victims carefully.

  Now he was going to kill her. He was going to savagely slit her throat and then he was going to drink her blood. And she was tied to a bunk, and there wasn’t a thing that she could do about it.

  “No!” she cried frantically. She tugged desperately at the ties that bound her. The rope chafed her wrists, but held tight.

  She prayed for reason, for her own sanity. “Geoffrey, you can’t do this now. It’s all wrong. The moon isn’t even up. It’s daytime. You’ll ruin everything.”

  He smiled and turned the knife blade in the flame. “It’s easier when the blade glows. It slips through flesh as if it was butter. Honestly. I
t’s easy, very easy. The first...was messy.”

  She wondered if she could keep him talking.

  For what? she wondered desperately. For how long? Who would learn that she was missing? Who would suspect?...

  Instinct made her press on, despite her despair. “You mean last Halloween?”

  He glanced at her, startled. “Oh, no. The first was years ago. In Brooklyn.” A dreamy, faraway light came in his eyes, dark eyes that were glazed by the fire. “It was in Brooklyn. I first felt the full moon touch me, and then I knew that I was one of them. A man among men. A wolf, more powerful. Immortal. I could live forever. The moon was full, and she was in my arms. A little slut of an ingenue. She wanted a part so badly. I gave her one. But it was messy, very messy. I tried to stay away from the theater after that.” He paused, frowning. “I think that there was one more. An actress. Or maybe a lighting technician. I don’t remember.” He gazed back at the blade. “It’s ready. It’s hot, and it will kiss your throat gently. You will not feel the savage need when I feed.”

  She was going to throw up.

  What would it matter if she was dead?

  Carly’s tone was reproachful. “Alexi—Alexi was really crazy about Tanya. And you killed her. How could you?” Geoffrey was walking toward her. The blade glittered in the firelight. Perspiration shone on her body. She wanted to start crying, raggedly, desperately. She had to stop him. She had to do something.

  “They’ll catch you!” she cried.

  “No. I am the wolf. I am immortal.”

  “No! You want them to think that Jon Vadim is the wolf, but they’ll know. They’ll know that he did not kill me.”

  He wasn’t even listening anymore. He stared at the knife euphorically, then touched her glistening breast. “It will be quick, my beauty. I promise.”

  No. It could not be happening. Geoffrey Taylor was a respected American artist who had scores of SRO plays to his credit. It could not be happening—but it was.

  He smiled at her. “Quick, and gentle...” he whispered.

  She saw the silver glitter of his knife, and a scream tore from her throat.

  Then the door burst open, and she saw a blur of sudden motion.

  Dustin Vadim came into the room like an offensive tackle, slamming into Geoffrey with a force that sent both men flying off their feet. Carly saw the knife raised high; Geoffrey still held it.

  “Dustin! Watch the knife!” she screamed. She worked at her bonds with renewed fury. She heard the scuffle and the thud as the two men fought viciously. Then she heard Dustin swearing; she heard every nuance of his proper British accent growing stronger with his rage.

  Then she heard a last, crunching blow and everything was silent. And she felt something soft and warm come over her and she looked up.

  Up...into golden eyes, blazing and fierce and beautifully tender.

  “Oh, Dustin...” She shivered. He cut her ties.

  “Dustin—he killed people in New York.”

  “I know. When I first began to suspect him, I asked a friend in Manhattan to look into his past. He dug up a few corpses that somehow pointed to Geoffrey Taylor.”

  “Dustin...”

  He was cutting her feet free. “What?” he demanded a little curtly.

  “Dustin, I’m so sorry. I didn’t trust you. I was afraid. Well, you did disappear, and your slippers were wet.”

  “Damn right you didn’t trust me. My slippers were wet just because I was restless and took a walk outside! I heard sounds coming from the stables and checked it out.”

  She sat up, clasping the blanket around her, rubbing her wrists. “You saved my life.”

  “Yeah, fine. But I haven’t really forgiven you.”

  “Dustin—”

  “Trust is important in a relationship, you know,” he observed.

  “Dustin.”

  “What?”

  She curled her arms around him and held him close. Her heart was beating atrociously again. She had almost died. She had almost lost all of this and more. She held him tenaciously, as she had held on to life. And she kissed him, with the fire searing them both.

  The door burst open a second time. The inspector was there, with Jon and Jasmine and Alexi. The inspector glanced their way briefly, then hurried to Geoffrey where he lay crumpled on the floor. Jasmine began to weep, raced to Carly and Dustin and kissed them both.

  “Carly, you’re all right! Oh, God!”

  Moments passed in pure emotion. Carly held tight to her blanket and kissed them all—even LaRue. She apologized to Alexi, who sheepishly told her that he had just been trying to explain his relationship with Tanya.

  “You did love her, Alexi,” Carly murmured.

  “She didn’t love me. But yes, I loved her, and it hurts, and I will miss her, whether she used me or not.”

  Jon placed a hand on his shoulder. The inspector cleared his throat. “Messieurs Vadim, I will have full explanations on this, and I will have your utmost cooperation.”

  “Yes, sir, I promise,” Dustin said. Jon drew himself up regally, ready with noble disdain. Then Dustin grinned, ignoring them both as he stared at Carly. “Yes, sir, but not just yet. I’m taking Carly out of here.”

  “In the morning, then,” the inspector said gruffly.

  “Oh, no, it will have to be later.” Dustin’s eyes, amber and gold and as warm as the fire, remained fixed on her. He lifted her into his arms, sweeping the modest covering of the blanket along with her. “I’m taking her to Paris tomorrow. And I’m going to marry her as quickly as I can. She’s dangerous if you don’t keep her under control, you see. I was really worried. If she marries me, she can’t testify against me.”

  “What?” Carly gasped.

  Jasmine started to laugh, but Carly barely heard her. Her gaze was fixed on Dustin’s as he carried her outside.

  Miraculously, the mist was lifting.

  “You will marry me, won’t you?” he asked.

  “Cocky, aren’t you? And I never testified against you. Even when I was afraid I defended you,” she retorted.

  “Oh, yeah, sure!” he scoffed.

  “I did!”

  “All right. I forgive you.”

  “You forgive me?”

  “Well, I will if you marry me. What do you say?”

  Carly pretended to ponder the question, but not for very long. “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Definitely.”

  He stared down at her tenderly. He was about to kiss her, when Carly gasped suddenly in disbelief.

  It was the wolf. The large, silver-gray wolf of her dreams. It was crashing through the trees, through the remaining mist, straight toward them. And just as she had been terrified that the animal meant to consume her that first night, she quivered with fear now, for she had everything in the world to live for.

  “Dustin! The wolf—”

  The animal charged at him. Dustin swore and lifted Carly higher. “Vixen, damn you, get down!”

  “Vixen!” Carly demanded in her turn.

  The wolf, as obedient as a puppy, fell at Dustin’s feet, rolling and fawning. Carly stared at him. “Vixen?” she repeated.

  He shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, she’s a pet, you see.”

  “She’s your pet?”

  “Jon’s pet. Well, all right, we both found her as a pup. We were about fourteen, I guess.”

  “She’s a pet!” Carly was enraged. “You made me think you dared a savage beast and saved my life—and she’s a pet?”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll grow to love her.” With a grin he started walking toward Satan. Carly slowly started to smile again as he set her upon the magnificent horse. “You owe me a lot of explanations, as well as the inspector!”

  He mounted behind her and nuzzled her neck. “We have a lifetime for that,” he murmured. “A lifetime.”

  He nudged Satan in the ribs. The horse took off as if he were flying. Dustin swept her away, safe from the mist.

  It could never have happened in Manha
ttan, she thought. Not this...

  Magic.

  This rough magic. Enchantment, Carly realized, relaxing against him. Enough to last a lifetime. And they would have a lifetime together, she knew. Of learning, exploring...explaining.

  As soon as they finished with the inspector, of course.

  But before that...there would be a wedding. And a honeymoon. And more...

  “Magic,” he said aloud.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  And Satan carried them onward, while a silver wolf ran along beside them.

  EPILOGUE

  Midnight.

  The witching hour.

  The French doors to the patio were open, and Carly could see the moon high over the black velvet of the night.

  The full moon...

  The breeze lifted the white draperies and sent them softly floating about, pale and ethereal against the panoply of the night sky. A stronger gust of wind came now and then and cast them about more strenuously. But Carly did not move to close the doors. She welcomed the breeze as she welcomed the night.

  She longed to welcome her lover.

  She was dressed in white herself. Soft, shimmering white that hung in silken folds about her body. Her shoulders were bare except for two slim straps that held the low-cut bodice of the nightgown to her breasts. Shadows fell against the creamy mounds so displayed by the gown and darkened the valley between them. Soft, sheer gauze flowed from the tight bodice to the floor and hauntingly displayed the shape and substance of the woman beneath.

  She was obviously a woman awaiting a lover.

  Suddenly she cried out. He was there, coming to her from out of the darkness. Forgetting what she was wearing, she raced out to meet him, throwing her arms around him.

  “Dustin! What happened? Did he understand? He isn’t still angry, is he? I mean, LaRue must understand by now that you had to do what you did!”

  Dustin laughed and easily swung her off her feet. Carly rested her hands on his shoulders and stared down into his eyes. “Dustin, please, tell me. Is everything all right?”