Spellbound Falls [5] For the Love of Magic

by Janet Chapman

  “Good for you, Peg. I hope you have—” The truck suddenly shuddered as if something had slammed into the rear of the driver’s side, making Rana jerk them to a stop again. “What did I hit?”

  “No, something hit us,” Peg said, twisting in her seat to look back. “Ohmigod, it’s another one of those weirdos, only—ohmigod, he’s huge.”

  Rana shoved the lever into park and unfastened her seat belt to the sound of branches scraping the truck, and twisted around in time to see a blur of leaves rush past the rear window.

  “That’s not a man!” Peg yelped, hitting a button on her door that snapped all the locks—which apparently unlocked whenever the shifting lever was put in park, Rana realized. “That was a real tree,” Peg continued. “Only I swear it had a face.”

  “Did the face appear to be in pain?” Rana asked, watching out the rear window and seeing what definitely looked like a tree disappear into the forest. “Was it grimacing?”

  Peg checked her still-sleeping son and faced forward again. “I don’t know. But I do know we’re not chasing after it to find out,” she said, gesturing for Rana to also face forward. “I vote we call Mac and have him come down and find out what that thing was. Preferably before Duncan gets back from Pine Creek,” she added, pulling out her cell phone.

  Rana refastened her seat belt, then started driving down the road again. She listened to Peg explain to Maximilian what was taking place on the road halfway to Turtleback Station, the one side of the conversation she could hear suddenly stopping and the interior of the truck turning silent but for the racing thump of the windshield wipers.

  “What do you mean, you have no intention of doing anything?” she heard Peg ask in disbelief. “Mac, there are friggin’ trees running around out here. Real ones. Well, one of them was real,” she said more softly, obviously attempting to sound calm. “He—it—was nine or ten feet tall and had a trunk the size of . . .” She fell silent again, and Rana took her eyes off the road long enough to see Peg looking incredulous as she clutched the phone to her ear. “Okay. Yeah, thanks for nothing,” she muttered as she lowered her hand and tapped the phone’s screen.

  “What did he say?” Rana asked as Peg silently stared out the windshield.

  “Nothing I didn’t already know, other than that he’s not going to do anything. But it appears Duncan’s more worried than he’s been admitting to me about the colony practicing some sort of magic.”

  “It’s not unusual to practice magic, Peg,” Rana said gently, “even in this century.”

  “But a new god? Is that even possible?”

  “As I had started to say when Vanetta walked in, I see no reason why it wouldn’t be possible. All mythical gods were created in men’s minds before they actually came to exist. They were imagined into being, Peg.”

  “Even . . . even Titus?”

  Rana smiled over at her wide-eyed friend and nodded. “Even Titus.”

  “Could . . .” Peg cleared her throat. “Could he be un-created? I mean, could people suddenly un-imagine Titus out of existence?”

  “Although unlikely,” Rana said with another nod as she watched the road for more trees, “it is possible.” She looked over with a smile. “But not by un-imagining him, as the very act of thinking about something gives it presence. Titus would have to be completely forgotten. But if even one man, woman, or child believes a god exists, then it does. Don’t worry,” she said, reaching over and patting Peg’s arm. “Titus will not suddenly vanish, because I will always believe in him.”

  “But . . . but you’re eventually going to die,” Peg whispered.

  “I am mortal,” Rana agreed. “But my children are not. Nor are my grandchildren. The Oceanuses will be around for a long, long time. Oh, look, the rain has stopped,” she said brightly, wanting to calm her friend’s worry. She turned off the wipers with a small laugh. “This certainly has been an eventful driving lesson.”

  Rana didn’t stomp on the brake this time, but she did slow to a turtle’s pace at the sight of several cars parked on both sides of the road, no less than two dozen men and women standing around them holding what appeared to be hand-painted signs.

  “Don’t stop,” Peg said. “And whatever you do, don’t make eye contact with any of them.”

  “Who are they? What are they doing?”

  “That road on the left leads down to the colony, and these people started hanging out here a couple of weeks ago in protest. Don’t slow down too much or they’ll jump out in front of you and start preaching that something a lot worse than an earthquake is going to happen if we don’t get rid of the ‘pagan devil-worshippers.’ I know, because they caught me last week.”

  “But pagans don’t—” Rana was forced to stomp on the brake when one of the men darted into the road in front of her, the cardboard sign he was carrying slapping onto the hood of the truck when she stopped only inches from him.

  “Well, shit,” Peg growled, twisting to check on Charlie—only to reach out and stop Rana from lifting the shifting lever into park. “Don’t unlock the doors and definitely don’t roll down your window. I don’t recognize any of them, so we’ll just stare straight ahead and you start slowly creeping forward until they get out of the way. Then you kick this horse into a gallop.”

  “Hey, lady,” a man said, making Rana flinch when he rapped on her window as several people crowded around him. “You gotta hear what that cult is trying to do,” he shouted through the glass.

  “Is Charlie still sleeping?” Rana asked, staring down at the dials on the dash. “I could blast the horn, but I don’t want him to wake up and be frightened.”

  “Try inching the truck forward,” Peg suggested as she stared down at her fists balled on her lap. “This is why we need a police force. Most of those cars are wearing out-of-state license plates. People from away can’t just come up here and tell us what we’re supposed to think, and they sure as hell can’t ambush innocent people by blocking the road and forcing us to listen to their—”

  The rest of what Peg said was cut short by the simultaneous arrival of a brilliant flash of lightning and an earsplitting clap of thunder, the ensuing deluge of windswept rain effectively sending the protestors scrambling to their vehicles.

  “That worked,” Peg said with a laugh when several signs were ripped from their grasp as people held them over their heads like umbrellas. “Probably better than a police siren. So let’s get out of here.”

  Rana turned on the wipers and headed down the road again. “For the love of Zeus,” she muttered. “What will we encounter next, a parade of penguins?”

  Not penguins but Titus, she discovered when the rain stopped two minutes later. Rana pulled onto the gravel edge of the road, put the truck in park and shut off the engine, then dropped her head onto the steering wheel with a silent curse. “All I wanted was a simple driving lesson, and I get a comedy of errors.”

  “No offense,” Peg said, “but instead of practicing your driving, maybe you should work on learning some magic tricks. That way you won’t—wait, how’d he get down here ahead of us?” she asked, only to suddenly gasp. “Was he responsible for that storm?”

  Rana lifted her head to see her husband walking toward them. “He most likely was responsible for the second one.”

  “Then I vote we be nice to him,” Peg said, grabbing Rana’s arm when she reached to start the truck again. “And give him a ride. Hey, what’s he wearing?”

  “You mean other than that proud-of-himself grin?”

  “Yeah, besides that,” Peg said with a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so . . . wrinkled. Well, except for where that tunic is pulled tight across his chest. He’s dressed like the colonists, only everything looks two sizes too small. Where do you suppose he got those clothes, anyway?”

  “I imagine he got them from the same place he does every time he unexpectedly goes swimming—off someone’s clothesline.”

  “He swam here?” Peg said, this time in a whisper because Titus was s
tanding beside Rana’s window. “Ah, the key has to be turned on for the windows to work,” Peg added, reaching over and turning the key, but apparently not far enough to start the engine.

  Rana pressed the button to lower her window. “Is there a reason I’m seeing more of you than I did when we were living together?”

  That got rid of his grin. “I need a ride back to my car.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, gesturing out the windshield, “but our errands are in the opposite direction.”

  He reached for the back door handle. “I don’t mind accompanying you.”

  “No, wait. You can’t . . . I don’t . . .” Rana released a heavy sigh. “Very well,” she said, opening her door to get out. “I’ll ride in back.”

  Titus caught her door and slowly closed it. “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your test drive. I’ll ride in back with young Murdoc.”

  “Good heavens, no,” Peg said, unfastening her seat belt and opening her door. “There’s barely enough room for my kids back there. You ride up front.”

  Rana grabbed Peg’s arm the moment Titus headed around the rear of the truck. “You drive, Peg, and I’ll ride in back with Charlie.”

  “I’m not putting you in the backseat, either.” Peg patted Rana’s hand on her arm. “Hey now, you’re driving like you were born holding a steering wheel. And this is your chance to wear a proud-of-yourself grin of your own.”

  Glancing in her side mirror to see Titus had stopped and was studying the rear fender of the truck, Rana scowled at Peg and let go of her arm. “Well fine then, I’ll drive the friggin’ truck.”

  Peg spun back with a gasp, her hands going to her mouth.

  “What?” Rana asked, looking around for more two-legged trees or protestors.

  “I’ve corrupted you, too!” Peg splayed her hands over her face and shook her head. “I’m going to hell for my contagious cussing.”

  “There is no hell,” Rana snapped, twisting the key to start the truck, “unless you count being married to a friggin’ magic-maker for forty years.”

  Chapter Seven

  Titus couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent a more enjoyable afternoon, although some of that may have had to do with the fact that he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his wife so flustered. In truth, she reminded him of a beautiful young maiden he’d known long ago who had found herself the sole focus of a man determined to make her his queen. At present, however, he was more interested in wooing the even more beautiful woman back into his bed.

  Rana had left it to Peg to carry most of the day’s conversations, although that hadn’t appeared to be a problem for Duncan’s wife, who had more questions than a three-year-old about the magic in general and how a new god was called forth in particular. Titus had remained vague in his answers, often suggesting she ask her husband, even as he’d worried he might develop a permanent crick in his neck from constantly smiling into the backseat as Peg had excitedly told him about the colonists running around dressed like trees. And the protestors. And the giant real tree with a face that had slammed into their truck—the latter relieving Titus of the worry that Rana was responsible for the dented rear fender.

  Not really being dressed to appear in public, he’d offered to stay with Murdoc while the women did their shopping, assuring them he was fully prepared to entertain the young highlander when he woke up and help him drown a tree if need be. And if Peg had been excited before, she had become downright exuberant on the return trip when Titus had directed her attention away from the magic by asking what names she and Duncan were considering for their new twin sons.

  Confirming their genders had gotten him a grateful smile from Rana.

  But despite the pleasantly relaxing afternoon, Titus found himself yawning as he got out of the truck in Rana’s driveway. He was surprised he was tired, since he’d taken a nap with Mur after he and the boy had wolfed down a large takeout meal at one of their many errand stops. Not that Rana had ever returned carrying any packages, whereas Peg was in danger of sinking her pontoon boat with all her purchases—including several bags of grain—when she crossed the fiord to go home.

  He hadn’t been aware the MacKeages owned a veritable zoo of farm animals, which had Titus worried that he had been too self-absorbed lately to notice the simple, everyday happenings around him.

  “Let me go get my clothes,” he said as Peg climbed behind the wheel of her truck, “and I will follow you to the marina and help transfer your purchases to your boat.”

  “Oh, thank you,” she said, waving away his offer as she reached for her seat belt, “but I have a whole tribe of heathens getting off the bus who can help me.” She stopped from closing the door, her eyes lighting with mischief as she shot Rana what appeared to be a conspirator’s smile. “I hope our little ride today helped you decide which vehicle you want to drive.”

  His wife darted a quick glance across the road, and Titus stifled a groan when he saw the tired-looking pickup parked beside the garage.

  “Yes, I will definitely consider getting one like yours,” Rana said, her own eyes sparkling in the low-hanging sun. “Especially if it’s smart enough to lock its own doors.”

  “Well, if I don’t catch you in town before then, I’ll see you Wednesday morning when we start fixing up the church basement. Wave good-bye, Charlie,” Peg said as she also waved before starting the truck and backing out of the driveway.

  “Why does she object to the noble name of Murdoc?” Titus asked as he stood beside Rana, watching the large SUV head out the camp road much faster than it had come in. “Murdoc is Celtic for ‘protector of the sea,’ which is fitting for Duncan’s son.”

  “I don’t believe she objected until all you men started calling the boy ‘Mur the Magnificent.’” Rana eyed his car parked in her driveway. “Does your newest toy have an automatic transmission?”

  “No, it’s a five speed.”

  She looked up at him, her big brown eyes unreadable. “Is it very hard to shift through five speeds while paying attention to all the dials as well as the road?”

  “It quickly becomes second nature,” he said, eyeing the old pickup across the road and disguising a shudder by turning away. “I’ll go get my clothes off your beachfront,” he added, stifling another yawn as he headed toward the side of the house, only to be surprised when Rana fell into step beside him.

  He was even more surprised when her hand slipped into his. “Thank you,” she said, giving him a squeeze.

  “For what?”

  “For many things, not the least of which was your restraint from commenting on my driving. Especially when I stopped a little too quickly backing up to the grain store loading dock and I heard your head bump your headrest.”

  He gave her hand a return squeeze. “The first time I got behind the wheel of a modern vehicle, I’m afraid I scared several years off Henry’s and Sophie’s young lives when I drove down to the turnoff to pick them up from the school bus. In fact, they both got out and walked most of the length of the Inglenook road.” He gave her a wink. “But then, I hadn’t even driven one of the electric carts, but went straight to a vehicle with the power of hundreds of horses.” He stopped and turned to face her, lifting her hand to hold it against his chest. “What else do you wish to thank me for?”

  She stared at her captured hand. “For rescuing us from the protestors, for entertaining Char—Murdoc all afternoon, for calming Peg’s worries about the new god, and . . .” She looked up, gracing him with a beautiful smile. “And for not taking an unguided tour of my home while I was away.”

  He arched a brow. “What makes you think I didn’t let myself in and—”

  “Are you two going to spend what’s left of the afternoon smiling at each other?”

  Titus turned to see Maximilian standing with his hands on his hips next to a small campfire on the beach, Kitalanta standing beside him.

  “Or are you going to come tell me all about today’s little adventure?”

  T
itus gave Rana’s hand another squeeze, then tucked her arm through his and continued down the lawn. “Did Peg not say she called Maximilian and explained in detail what happened?”

  “Yes, but your son told her there was nothing he could do about it.”

  “He damn well could have gone down and calmed your fears.”

  “I wasn’t afraid. Well, not of some silly new tree god.” Rana pulled him to a stop. “The protestors did worry me though, because I truly didn’t want to run over any of them.”

  “Why didn’t you call me instead of rushing down there alone?” Mac asked as he strode up to them, his glare aimed at Titus.

  “Odd that I don’t recall,” Titus said dryly. “When exactly did I die and leave you in charge of protecting the world? Or is it your belief that I’ve simply become too feeble of mind to do my job?”

  Rana stepped away with a laugh, giving her now-scowling son a pat on the arm before continuing down to the beach. “Ah, Kit, how nice to see you again,” she said when the wolf ran forward and fell into step beside her. She gave his broad head a pat. “Is this an impromptu visit, or did your king press you into service guarding my home from that scary new god?”

  Titus returned his attention to his son. “Get lost.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Go back up your mountain. If you couldn’t be bothered to make sure your mother and your friend’s wife were not in danger this morning, then you have no right to question my not calling you.”

  “But I did check on them. I only acted unconcerned for Peg’s sake, then rushed there the moment I ended the call.” His son crossed his arms over his chest, making a point of running his gaze over Titus’s borrowed clothes. “In fact, I arrived just in time to see you climbing into the passenger seat of Peg’s truck. So,” he continued before Titus could say anything, “having made sure they were not in danger, I followed the storm.”