Spellbound Falls [5] For the Love of Magic

by Janet Chapman

  “Yes, dear, I know.” She pulled free and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Titus, Caro’s having her baby today! Come on,” she said, slipping her arm through his and starting toward the church. “Come see what a beautiful job Maude did on the clinic while, instead of helping, I was strolling through the wilderness with the love of my life.”

  He pulled them to a stop. “I will see it some other time, when it’s not in use,” he muttered, eyeing the basement door like it was going to explode. “Meanwhile, I’ll wait out here and keep Alec company.”

  “Oh, Titus. Alec is going to stay with Carolina.”

  “In the birthing room?” he said in a strangled whisper.

  She patted his chest. “Fathers don’t pace the halls in this century, husband. They hold the mother’s hand and mop her brow, and they even cut the umbilical cord.”

  He turned as pale as snow and took a step back. “Sweet Zeus, why?”

  “To witness a miracle.” She leaned into him and rested her cheek on his chest to hide her smile, even as she wondered how he was going to survive the twenty-first century. “You would have stayed with me had I been with child, would you not?”

  There was an interminably long silence before his arms came around her with a heavy sigh. “Yes, of course,” the blackguard blatantly lied, “if that had been your wish.”

  She wiggled free and slipped her arm through his again, then headed out the driveway.

  “Are you not going to attend your daughter?” he asked.

  “Roger is right; it will be hours yet. Meanwhile, I intend to order one of everything on Vanetta’s menu and stuff my face until I can’t walk.” She stopped and glared up at him. “And the next time you feel like going camping, you better show up in an RV bus.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Now this was the proper way for men to conduct themselves during a birthing, Titus decided as he drained his mug of beer: men descending on the nearest bar—this one conveniently located a stone’s throw away from the church—while their women gathered around the mother-to-be. Word had quickly spread by way of cell phones, and everyone had rushed to town, with Mac and Nicholas and Duncan dropping off their wives at the clinic before heading to the Bottoms Up. And not wanting to kick out five paying customers when closing time had rolled around, Vanetta had handed the keys to the new chief of police and told Niall to lock up when they left.

  Well, all the men were here except for Alec MacKeage. Titus decided he needed to have a talk with the idiot about wearing the britches in his family—assuming the highlander ever became family. Thank the gods the good people of Atlantis couldn’t see how badly their king had lost control of his family; what with his wife running off, his daughter getting married after having her babe, his son treating him like a doddering old man, and his grandchildren wrapping him around their magical little fingers.

  Yes, he was quite happy to be mortal, Titus suddenly decided, not wanting to hang around to see what other outrageous traditions future generations came up with. What in the name of Hades had Providence been thinking, making Winter MacKeage the first female drùidh? Hell, next thing he knew, goddesses would be running the world.

  Then again, there would probably be fewer wars—likely because all the gods would be too busy looking for their gonads.

  “That old warhorse of yours is an ornery bastard,” Duncan said from across the table, his eyes looking a bit bloodshot. “I had to chase him over a mile when he broke out of his stall, then turn the hose on him when he went after one of my mares.”

  “Who?” Nicholas asked. “Which warhorse?”

  “Salt was before your time,” Titus said. “I had him when I met Rana.”

  Nicholas’s own bloodshot eyes narrowed. “And just how did he happen to show up in this century?”

  “A bird must have dropped him off in the woods,” Titus said, glaring at his son.

  Mac leaned back in his chair with a smug and somewhat drunken grin. “Really? I heard a limping old wizard conjured up a ride and two bulging satchels of food.”

  “Which the new god is likely right now gorging himself on,” Titus muttered.

  “So did you finally find out why Rana left you?” Nicholas asked.

  “It turned out to be nothing more than a misunderstanding. All that matters is we are back together.” Titus lifted his empty mug toward Duncan in salute. “You MacKeages may be onto something when it comes to kidnapping contrary women.”

  Duncan snorted. “Now if we could just come up with a way to control the lasses after we’ve caught them.”

  “Speaking of birds,” Niall said, walking over with five full mugs of beer in his fists. “Ye actually saw the new god? What did he look like?” He scattered the drinks around the table then sat down. “The markings we found where it dragged itself to shore left a trail wide enough for a blind man to follow. So as the police chief, I’d like to know what I might be dealing with.”

  “He was a medium-sized oak when I saw him,” Titus said. “But he finally smartened up and turned himself into something inanimate to escape the demons.” He shrugged again. “I imagine he’ll eventually settle on a human form, once he has time to acclimate to being here.”

  “And until then?” Duncan asked. “Do we seek him out before he starts causing trouble?”

  Titus looked at his son. “I guess that would be up to Maximilian, since his magic will soon be all that is protecting mankind.”

  Mac stilled with his beer halfway to his mouth. “Excuse me?”

  “In three weeks,” Titus said quietly, “my authority will be yours to command.”

  Stark, absolute silence fell over the table.

  “Sweet Zeus, why?” Nicholas finally whispered.

  “Because it’s time.” Titus stared directly into his son’s eyes. “Atlantis no longer has any real purpose now that you’ve established your seat of power here in this place and time, which is why I’ve decided it would better serve humanity for the island to stop being a myth.” He looked down and fingered the handle of his empty beer mug. “And I have also renounced my immortality.”

  An even deeper silence ensued, only broken when Maximilian pushed back his chair and stood up.

  “It’s done,” Titus said quietly. “I am now mortal, and will finish aging naturally with my wife.” He finally looked up. “The day will come that you, too, will have no desire to spend eternity without Olivia. Gentlemen,” he went on, gazing around the table at their shocked expressions, “I assure you I’m not dying tomorrow. Contrary to what some people apparently think, Rana and I are still of sound mind and body, and have many years of grandparenting ahead of us.” He grabbed the full glass Niall had set in front of him and lifted it toward Maximilian in salute. “To the new reigning theurgist, may he serve mankind with a stronger, more modern, and hopefully wiser magic. And,” he added on a grin, “with the same patience and sense of humor as his predecessor.”

  Still nothing.

  “Poseidon’s teeth; I’m retiring, you idiots, so quit looking as if I just told you I’m dying.”

  Maximilian very slowly reached down and picked up his beer, but lifted it to his mouth instead of in salute, and drained the entire glass in one swallow.

  Duncan and Nicholas did the same, but apparently Niall was too busy trying to decide if he liked this new turn of events. The highlander cleared his throat. “Ah, can I ask what ye mean by Atlantis no longer being a myth?”

  “He means he’s destroying it,” Mac answered—still staring at Titus. “And the people?” he asked softly.

  “Most will follow their offspring into the world. Those without children will choose where and in what century they wish to live out the rest of their natural lives.”

  “Does Mother know?”

  “Yes—both about Atlantis and my mortality. It’s the natural order of things, Maximilian, for new generations to continue building on the foundations of the previous.” He grinned. “And for new gods to be born and old gods to quietly fade away.”r />
  “Did it ever occur to you to ask me if I wanted your job?”

  Titus stifled a snort as he stood up and walked around the table. “You’ve been positioning yourself to take it for the last four years.” He stared into the mirror image of his own sharp green eyes and clasped his son’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I stole your thunder, but I was growing tired of waiting for you to make your move.”

  “You were supposed to live forever,” Mac said roughly, his face darkening with his admission, “which always made me wonder why you even needed a son.”

  Titus chuckled and gave the boy’s shoulder a vigorous pat. “I guess I’ve always been a mortal at heart. So exactly how were you intending to take me down?”

  Maximilian didn’t even try to stifle his snort. “Do I look that drunk?”

  Titus pulled him forward and gave him an even more vigorous hug. “I’m proud of you, son,” he whispered thickly, wondering if he wasn’t a bit drunk. “And I would have been sorely disappointed if you hadn’t at least tried.”

  “It’s a boy!” Alec MacKeage shouted as he slammed through the door. “Jane gave me a strapping, screaming son!” He ran over to the table, grabbed the first beer he came to and chugged it down, then collapsed into Titus’s chair, set his elbows on his knees, and hung his head in his hands. “I swear by all that’s holy I am never going through that again,” he muttered to the floor. He looked up, found Duncan, and gave him a glare. “If you ever see me heading for a delivery room again, ye have my permission to break both my legs.” He then turned his glare on Titus. “I thought the church was going to burst into flames when your daughter started cussing in every language on the planet.”

  “That’s why men belong in the nearest bar getting drunk,” Titus said, grabbing the remaining beer and handing it to him, “while their wives or girlfriends are cursing them for having had the fun of putting the babes in there with none of the work of getting them out.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Titus stared up at the ceiling not three feet above his head as he listened to Rana moving around in the kitchen below, and found himself rethinking this whole mortal business. Poseidon’s teeth, his head hurt; the problem being he’d never experienced a headache before, or anything even resembling a hangover, for that matter.

  It wasn’t that immortals didn’t feel pain; battle was just as bloody and gruesome for gods and demons as it was for humans. And taking a bad fall off a horse sure as hell hurt, as did a poke in the eye or stubbing a toe. But the pain lasted only until he got his bearings again, unlike the incessant hammer pounding his skull hard enough to make his teeth ache. Granted, he would always have command of the magic, but he figured using it to cure a hangover sort of defeated the whole purpose of being mortal.

  He closed his eyes with a muttered curse, guessing he was in for a long day.

  And come to think of it, what in Hades was he supposed to do all day once he fully retired? He’d never fostered any hobbies, what with being so busy saving mankind from itself. And he didn’t believe there were many positions he could apply for in this century when his only marketable skills were winning wars, ruling kingdoms, and nudging humans—sometimes with a hammer to the head—into smartening up. Although he had done a pretty good job of cultivating the Trees of Life, and he did happen to be living in the middle of a vast forest, so maybe he could become a logger. Then again, his talent lent itself to growing trees, not cutting them down, and Mother Nature already seemed to be doing a good job of that around here.

  Titus lifted his hands to his throbbing head and carefully scrubbed his face with a groan. He then carefully rolled out of bed and slowly straightened—in the middle of the room—with a sigh. Maybe he could purchase an RV bus like Rana suggested and take her on a cross-country camping trip like Maximilian had taken Olivia on for their honeymoon four years ago.

  But then he sighed again, figuring that would only use up six months or at best a year of their time before they ran out of wondrous sights to see. So then what? And anyway, he doubted Rana would leave her new grandbabies even for a month.

  He swiped his pants off the chair and slipped them on, only to brighten when he remembered he had a house to build. And by not involving the magic and considering he sure as Hades wasn’t building a tiny hovel, construction should take at least two years, with landscaping and building a barn and outbuildings taking another.

  He eyed the bed built for a gnome as he shrugged on his shirt and buttoned it up, then studied the ceiling above it. He would never survive long enough to move into their new house if he had to sleep in that bed two more years, so maybe he should do a little remodeling here first—including straightening the roof.

  Swiping his socks off the bureau, he rushed toward the stairs to tell Rana about his plan, only to stagger to a halt and grab his throbbing head. “Slowly,” he muttered, holding the ironwork banister as he carefully descended.

  He not so carefully stubbed his toe on the leg of a table at the end of the couch, then banged his throbbing head on a bookcase crowded against the opposite wall when he bent to rub his toe. He cursed again when he had to catch several falling books before they landed on his other bare foot, only to straighten to see his terrible wife standing in the kitchen doorway holding her hands to her mouth. Stifling her laughter, however, did nothing to disguise the amusement in her eyes.

  “Yes. Well,” she said, tugging down the front of her blouse, “now that I have a big strong man around to lift the heavy stuff, I guess I can start thinning this place out.”

  Titus turned to scan the crowded living area—noting with satisfaction the plant in full bloom—then turned back and smiled tightly. “Today?”

  “Oh, no. I have too much to do today,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

  He limped into the kitchen to find her standing at the gnome-height counter as she wrote on a pad of paper. “What are you doing today?” he asked, going to the small table crammed between the door and fridge and sitting down to put on his socks—only to discover he was missing one. He leaned over to see it on the floor next to the toe-stubbing table and stood back up with a sigh. “Because I would like to go get some of my clothes and belongings first,” he said as he headed after his wayward sock.

  “Oh, sure,” she called over her shoulder to him. “You can take my truck and I’ll use the cart to do my errands in town first, and save my trip to Turtleback for after my lesson with Zack this afternoon. Or I can drive you to the marina to pick up whatever vehicle you drove there the day of our race.”

  He hobbled back into the kitchen and sat down again. “What time is Zack coming? Maybe we can get all our errands done before he arrives.”

  She stopped writing and slowly turned to him. “We?”

  He stilled with one sock half on. “I thought I would accompany you on your errands, since I have nothing else to do today except get my clothes.”

  “Or,” she said very softly, “you could visit with your new grandson, since Carolina and Alec will be staying in our cottage at Nova Mare for the next couple of weeks.” She turned back to the counter. “By that time I’ll be done with my errands and welding lesson and can meet you there. Then we can have dinner at Aeolus’s Whisper and follow each other back down the mountain.”

  Titus finished putting on his socks. “I’ll buy a change of clothes at the Trading Post and get my belongings tomorrow instead,” he decided out loud. “If they’re using our cottage, I imagine both Carolina and Alec would rather spend the day sleeping than visiting. So,” he said, standing up and walking to the counter to read over her shoulder. “After Ezra’s store, what’s our first errand?”

  She stopped writing again and stared down at the counter, saying nothing for several heartbeats before he heard her sigh. “I was going to a furniture store in Turtleback to get a small crib to have here for when Carolina comes to visit. I was also going to stock my cupboards, take some food items to Roger’s cabin at Inglenook, run up and see Carolin
a, run back down for my lesson with Zack, then cook you dinner.”

  Okay, then; apparently being mortal meant he might be a little slower on the uptake, as it was just dawning on him that she had planned on doing her errands alone.

  Then what in Hades was he supposed to do all day?

  “Could you not postpone your trip to Turtleback until later in the week?” he asked, partly because he didn’t want her going alone and partly because he had no idea where they were going to put a crib in this overcrowded . . . house. “Just until we have a better idea of what the new god is about. And also until Niall has had a chance to deal with the protestors,” he added for good measure. “And if you’re going to go see Carolina anyway, I could meet our new young highlander and grab a few of my clothes,” he continued, mostly because he didn’t want to do his errands alone.

  She ripped the top sheet off the pad. “I’ll meet you in the truck in ten minutes,” she said, heading back toward the living room.

  “Wait. Do you have any . . . aspirin? I believe that’s what mortals use for headaches,” he said when she stopped in the doorway. “If you don’t, I can pick some up at Ezra’s,” he quickly added, not liking the smile she suddenly gave him.

  “You men do a little too much celebrating last night?” she asked way too sweetly as she walked back into the kitchen. She turned on a burner under a kettle. “I have just the thing for a hangover,” she continued, getting a cup from the cupboard. “Ginger tea.”

  “I thought you said it was nasty?”

  “But very soothing to beer-soaked stomachs.”

  “It’s my head that hurts.”

  “Ginger is good for just about any ailment,” she said, dropping a spoonful of loose tea into a screened ball and setting it in the cup. She then walked into the bathroom and opened a closet door. “And a hot compress will loosen your— Oh, Titus? Can you unlock this panel for me?” she asked, stepping back to look at him. She waved at the closet. “Zack told me there’s a small chamber under the stairs, but he doesn’t know what’s inside. Apparently his grandfather put a puzzle lock on the access panel several years ago when he replaced all the floor stringers with steel beams.”