Essential Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  Victor Salinger.

  Since the fence was long gone, Ryanne walked slowly toward the man who had brought so much misery to her world. Staring down at his blackened remains, she was hit by exhaustion. Fatigue so deep, it nestled into her bones. Then came the numbness. In the span of two days, she’d morphed into a completely different person. Gone was any innocence or remaining illusions she’d had of her childhood. Of unhealthy past relationships. Like an onion, the layers had been peeled back, revealing a severely dysfunctional family at its core. No wonder she’d shied away from romantic involvement. The pain was too great a risk to take.

  As Ryanne continued to gaze dispassionately down at Victor, Autumn approached.

  “You okay?”

  “Far from it,” she managed past the lump in her throat. “I murdered a man.”

  “No. You rid the world of one evil twatwaffle, Ryanne. Don’t lose a single night’s sleep over it.”

  “I burned Nash,” she whispered.

  “Not on purpose.”

  “But I still hurt him.”

  Autumn sighed and shifted to stand in front of her. “Listen, he knew the risk he was taking when he touched you. Your skin took on a scarlet glow, Ryanne. Like a molten-lava chick. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Ryanne lifted her gaze to meet Autumn’s steady, non-condemning eyes.

  “It wasn’t your fault, and he’s going to be fine.”

  “You don’t know that!” Ryanne cried in her fear. “What happens if we argue and I accidentally lose control again?”

  “Why would you argue?”

  “Have you met the man?”

  Ryanne was thrown by Autumn’s laughter. She couldn’t find a single thing funny about the situation.

  Finally, the other woman calmed enough to say, “If you’re wise enough to worry, you're wise enough to control your temper moving forward. If all else fails and you’re truly that concerned, have my uncle bind your powers again.” Autumn shrugged and patted her shoulder. “Nash loves you. You love him. Everything else can be worked through.”

  Ryanne looked back at Nash. As she watched, he kissed his aunt’s cheek and said something to make her laugh. Relief and a whole lot of angst filled her for causing him such horrific pain. Maybe she should have Alastair bind her powers. Did she dare take the risk of hurting anyone ever again?

  Suddenly it was all too much. Her throat felt as if it were tightening, and her breathing became labored. She had to escape. Had to get away from Nash, his family, and the death around her. Without any thought other than a mental image of her apartment’s interior, Ryanne fired up her cells to teleport home.

  She realized her mistake the moment she arrived in her living room. Death was still with her in the form of her sister’s ghost. Although Alastair’s men had retrieved the body for burial sometime within the last two days, Ryanne could still imagine Rylee lying on the bed, eyes closed in permanent slumber.

  Sinking to her knees, she gave in to the grief and sobbed. She was so tired. So raw and disillusioned with life. Five days ago, everything had seemed exciting and new. She’d been about to explore a relationship with Nash after being more than half in love with him for nearly two years. She’d just discovered she had magical abilities. At the time, it was cool. The idea of conjuring food and moving between places with just a simple thought was sublime. Now, she’d give it all back for the blissful ignorance.

  The skin on the back of her neck prickled, and the air grew heavy. This was the sign she was beginning to associate with an incoming witch. Ryanne lifted her head just as Nash arrived.

  As he stared at her, his expression thoughtful, Ryanne wanted nothing more than to jump up and run to him. She couldn’t. She was completely depleted. The new problem remained. Dare she stick around and take the chance she might cause irreparable damage to him?

  “Go home, Nash,” she ordered tiredly.

  “Can we at least discuss this?”

  “What’s to discuss? I’m a ticking time bomb. I fried your ass without even trying,” she cried raggedly.

  “Nah, just my arms.” He gave a half-grin that never failed to wake the butterflies in her belly. Lifting his arms, he rotated them back and forth to show the undamaged skin. “I’m all better. Not even a red mark. Swear.”

  “You don’t get it.” Frustrated, she rose and crossed to the kitchen for a glass of water to ease the dryness in her throat.

  “Then explain it to me.”

  Ryanne gulped down three-quarters of the glass before she answered. “You were in agony, Nash. I saw your face. What if your aunt and father hadn’t been there after it happened? I wouldn’t have known how to heal you.”

  He crossed to where she stood and rested those sinewy forearms on the counter, then he bent forward to meet her eyes on the same level. “You wouldn’t have needed to heal me, babe. A simple call to my father or aunt would bring them running.”

  “Yeah, because I have their numbers memorized and you would be able to simply dial them with charred fingertips,” she retorted.

  “Ryanne, how upset are you right now on a scale of one to ten?”

  The question threw her. She wasn’t sure how to answer, so she remained silent.

  He raised a dark blond brow and waited.

  “I don’t know. Pretty damned upset,” she finally said.

  “Are you going nuclear now? Or are you having a discussion like a reasonable adult?”

  She glanced down. No glowing, no fire, not even a warming of the glass in her hand.

  Nash moved to her side of the counter and wrapped his arms around her middle, just as he had done to pull her back from going nuclear. She flinched at the contact.

  “See?” He said softly, his cheek pressed to hers. “Even upset and angry, you’re controlling yourself. You wouldn’t knowingly hurt me.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” she croaked. “But what about the times when I can’t control myself, Nash? I can’t risk hurting you or anyone.”

  “We will work each day, and you’ll get stronger. You’ll learn how to manipulate your magic so this never happens again.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can.” He turned her to face him, and lifted her chin. “You can.”

  She closed her eyes against the sting of tears. Her nasal passages burned, and she knew she was about to cry the big ugly for a second time.

  “It’s okay, babe. I promise you. It’s okay.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you again. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “I doubt you’ll ever be as enraged as you were when you served Victor up his Karmic spoon of medicine.” He settled a soft kiss on her lips. “But if you ever do get to that point again, you’ll have tricks to cool down. I guarantee it.”

  “What if we get married and have children? What type of power would they have? What if they walked around setting things alight or burning people?”

  “I don’t have all the answers right now, Ryanne. At some point, you’re going to have to take a leap of faith.”

  “Will you just go? Please?”

  He stepped back, and Ryanne felt the loss of his touch keenly. Her soul felt colder without him close. She almost changed her mind then and there. With a simple nod, he was gone.

  Ryanne closed her eyes and let the tears come.

  Chapter 29

  It only took Ryanne twenty-seven hours and eleven minutes to realize how much of an idiot she was being. Nash was right. She could learn to control her powers. Other witches did it all the time. Now, she owed him an apology. Being wrong was a lot harder to own up to. Basically, she said she didn’t trust in them enough to try. Her only excuse was fatigue. She’d been so emotionally wrung out, she didn’t know if she was coming or going. She hoped like hell Nash would understand.

  In all the time she’d been his assistant, she’d never been to his home. It wasn’t as odd now that she realized what he was and understood he needed privacy to protect his secret. A quick call to Liz obtained Nash’s home addr
ess, and Ryanne wasted no time hightailing it to his place. As she pulled into the driveway and stared at the palatial house, her nerves got the better of her. What if now that he’d had time to think about it, he didn’t want her? Her insecurities assailed her. She’d had to be many things to many people in the past. Never her true self. She’d be asking him to accept her as she was. That woman might not be who he truly wanted.

  The front door swung open, and Nash filled the doorway. Even in his jeans, tee-shirt, and bare feet, he looked like the lord of the manor. His inherent, commanding presence couldn’t be denied. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb, waiting for her to come to him. It was a very Alastair move. She’d seen his father do the same many times when he visited Thorne Industries. It made others uneasy, this watchful casualness. Would Nash grow more like his father in the coming years? A force to be reviled because he was feared?

  During their time surveilling the Salinger compound, Nash had told her the story of Alastair’s imprisonment by Zhu Lin and Victor. Alastair was forged into the formidable warlock he was today due to torture at his enemies’ hands. Yet, she saw so much of his father in Nash. At their core, they were the same. She had no doubt.

  On shaking legs, she approached. He didn’t appear to be all that welcoming.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  His features softened, and it occurred to Ryanne that he’d been just as nervous as she was when she arrived.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, Ryanne. You had an insane week.”

  She nodded, her eyes dropping to his crossed arms. She reached out and stroked the top of his forearm, running her fingertips along the blond hair. He didn’t flinch or withdrawal. A good sign.

  “Can we talk?” she asked softly.

  “No.”

  She yanked her hand back.

  He laughed and scooped her up. “No, but not for the reason you might think. I’m talked out, and I just want to hold my girlfriend. Maybe make out and see if she’ll let me get to second base. How does that sound?”

  “Wonderful,” she gushed. She gave him a tentative smile. “And, Nash? If we’re going with the whole baseball analogy thing, you’re assured a home run.”

  His grin widened. “Excellent.”

  Ryanne laughed when he kicked the door closed with his heel.

  Two hours later, when she could finally drum up the energy to move, she padded to the kitchen to forage for food. She stopped in the doorway and gaped at her dream kitchen. The nerve endings along her spine went haywire right before he rested his chin on her shoulder to survey the room with her.

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it!” Everywhere she looked, there was beauty. From the white cabinets to the pewter-and-glass-tiled backsplash to the top-of-the-line stainless appliances. Splashes of contrast peppered the room and massive island from brightly colored pottery, most in shades of purple—her favorite color. “Nash, this is gorgeous. A good thirty or more people could mingle about in here.”

  “I heard you and Liz discussing HGTV one day. When I pressed her for information about your favorite designs, she gave me a few magazines. This is what I conjured with you in mind. The purple dishes are the various hues your highlights made when they caught the sunlight.”

  She dragged her attention from the magnificent room and twisted to face him. He had observed her that frequently? How had she missed it? “That was the most romantic thing you could say to me.”

  He chuckled as he captured her lips in a searing kiss. When they parted, they were both a little breathless. “I worried it was obsessive because I couldn’t stop thinking about you and what you might like. I began surrounding myself with anything that reminded me of you.”

  “Oh, Nash.”

  He went still, his expression serious. “I’m crazy about you, Ryanne. Tell me this is meant to be. Tell me we will have a forever kind of love. You’re essential to my happiness.”

  When she remained silent, too wonderstruck to speak, he continued. “I don’t want to put undue pressure on you. I get it if you don’t feel the same. I just—”

  Ryanne heard the nerves in his voice. She understood his fear of rejection because she’d dealt with it herself many times in the past. Placing her fingertips against his lips, she halted his flow of words. “I do feel the same. I think I always have.”

  “Thank the Goddess!” he said on a breathy exhale.

  “Oh, and while all this…” She gestured to their surroundings. “…is definitely a little stalker-like, I won’t hold it against you, because I love you.”

  Wicked intent filled his jade eyes. “In that case, we should definitely break in this counter.”

  She raised her arms for him to lift her up. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Knox Carlyle pulled the chain mail bag from inside his leather satchel and laid it upon the stone altar in the clearing. Normally, to request an audience with the Goddess, one would place a gift where the sack now rested. However today, this was all he had. He hoped she’d take this offering for the sake of all mankind.

  It didn’t take long before pure white light illuminated the glen. It flared brightly for a moment, then calmed to a muted golden glow.

  Isis.

  Today, she was gowned in gold silk. Her black hair was gathered up, and a cascade of curls tumbled down the back of her neck and across one shoulder. Her expression bordered on irritated as she sashayed forward.

  “Why did you call me, child? You are not one of mine.”

  “Exalted One,” he intoned as he bowed low. “I’ve come to present you with the Red Scorpion. I’d hoped you might find a way to contain or destroy it for the sake of humanity. This cursed object is too dangerous to entrust to a mere human.”

  Her eyes dropped to the metal bag on the stone surface. For a split second, her lips tightened before she once again smoothed her features to serene. “You are more than human, Knox Carlyle. Why do you not become the keeper of this object?”

  “I can’t risk my wife’s safety.”

  “Your attachment to the woman is unnatural,” she snapped. With a deep inhale and a casual wave of her hand, she dismissed their conversation. “Go. I shall see to the Red Scorpion.” She spoke the last words almost lovingly.

  Alarm bells began clanking inside his mind. Surely Isis wouldn’t revere such a deadly object.

  “I shouldn’t have bothered you with this,” he said as he shifted to reclaim the bag.

  She beat him to the altar and scooped up the armored sack. “I appreciate that you returned my necklace, lover.”

  Her tone of voice changed seconds before she morphed into the goddess Knox never wished to encounter again—Serqet!

  Fuck!

  He backed away, gathering elements to strike. “Where’s Isis?”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s around. As the creator of your little gift, it called to me first. Now, it has been returned to its rightful owner.”

  “The gift was not meant for you, Serqet. Return it to me immediately.”

  “No, I don’t think I will.” Her smile was as malevolent as the cursed object she cradled to her chest like a precious babe.

  Knox didn’t offer a warning, he simply struck, sending a lightning bolt straight for her heart. But he was too late. She’d already disappeared in a flash. He roared his frustration and mounting fury. He’d lost the fucking necklace, and now he had to tell the Thornes that Serqet had the ability to stir up her special brand of mischief for their family again.

  Keep an eye out in the coming months for MOONLIT MAGIC. Liz’s story is sure to delight.

  From the Author…

  Thank you for taking the time to read ESSENTIAL MAGIC! If you love what you’ve read, please leave a review. To find out about what’s happening next in the world of The Thorne Witches, be sure to subscribe my newsletter.

  Books in The Thorne Witches Series:

  SUMMER MAGIC

  AUTUMN MAGIC

  WINTER MAGIC

 
; SPRING MAGIC

  REKINDLED MAGIC

  LONG LOST MAGIC

  FOREVER MAGIC

  ESSENTIAL MAGIC

  MOONLIT MAGIC (coming soon)

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