Six Times a Charm

by Deanna Chase

  But the band stopped playing. The waltz ended, and everyone started to clap. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement, and then Uncle George was standing by my side. “Jane!” he exclaimed. “Your grandmother’s bid on the Schmidt painting has been overwritten. You should take a look and see if she wants to pay more.”

  “Okay,” I said, wishing that he would disappear, that he would take all of his concert opera cronies and enter suspended animation, that he would leave me for even one more minute with my amazing, stupendous, incredible Boyfriend. My Boyfriend who was joining me at the Farm. My Boyfriend, who was going to redeem me after years and years of aunts and cousins questioning how I could possibly remain single for so long.

  “I’ m sorry,” Uncle George said, half-turning toward Jason. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Not at all, sir,” Jason said, inclining his Greek-statue head. “In fact, I should get back to my friends.” He still held my hand, though, and he squeezed my fingers gently before he started to walk away. “We’ll talk more at the library next week, Jane. I can’t wait to see what you’ve found for me about the apothecary trade. That’s the last piece that’s missing from my article.”

  “I’ll have it for you at the circulation desk on Monday morning.”

  I felt like I was speaking code in front of Uncle George. And I’ll see you at the Farm, I meant.

  “Wonderful,” he said. Then he smiled and was gone, scarlet cummerbund, impeccable tux, and all. Uncle George needed to remind me three times before I was ready to cross the room and check on Gran’s silent auction bid.

  My Boyfriend was going to meet my family. At the Farm.

  Chapter 24

  “Jane, you’re just not concentrating,” David said, collapsing back on the couch and sighing with frustration.

  “I’m trying!”

  “No, you’re not.” He picked up the pink fluorite crystal that was centered on the coffee table. He’d explained numerous times that it was supposed to help focus my thoughts. I was supposed to be able to see through it, to channel my energies as I worked a spell.

  I glared at the stone. “I just don’t think that my strength is with crystals.”

  “Your mother’s seems to be,” he said in a perfectly reasonable tone.

  Neko had the good sense to cringe at those words. He’d heard enough of my rants about Clara to know that mentioning her was not about to make me more pliant to the warder’s wishes.

  “And if Clara,” I gave a definite emphasis to her proper name, “had bothered to train me, then maybe all this witchcraft stuff wouldn’t be so hard to pick up now. Maybe I’d be ready for a teacher, if a decent one could be found around here.”

  David sucked in breath to reply, but he visibly caught himself before he could say something that he’d regret. Neko winced, stood, and stretched. “Perhaps if I made you both a cup of tea…”

  David looked toward my familiar, annoyed. “We don’t need tea. What we need is a bit less self-pity and a bit more concentration.”

  Neko positioned himself precisely equidistant between us and shrugged. “It seems to me that at least one of us needs a nap. Awfully cranky tonight, aren’t we?” He minced into the kitchen before David or I could ask just who was supposed to be the tired one.

  I leaned back against the couch’s cushions, exhaling sharply to get my stupid bangs out of my eyes. I’d never had a problem with my hair when it was just one long tangle of curls. I closed my eyes, suddenly too exhausted by the whole training process to focus on the room around me. Not that I needed a nap. Really.

  “Neko,” I called. “A cup of tea would be wonderful.”

  He didn’t answer, but I heard him bang the kettle against the sink.

  David took another deep breath and said, “I’m not meant to be a trainer, you know. I’m here to protect you. To keep you safe. I only started to teach you about your powers because you seemed so completely lost.”

  I didn’t bother opening my eyes. I was almost too weary to say, “Fine, then. Don’t teach me anymore.”

  He was silent for a long time, and I wondered what expression was on his face. We’d worked together twice since the Harvest Gala and at both sessions, he’d complained that I wasn’t applying myself. I wasn’t quite sure what he wanted me to accomplish. I thought it was extremely unlikely that I’d hurtle from being Jane Madison, Meek and Ordinary Librarian to Jane Madison, Super Witch, practically overnight.

  Besides, I had important things on my mind. Like my Boyfriend. And our looming weekend at the Farm. I’d only seen Jason once since the Gala, to hand over my apothecary research which—if I do say so myself—he had declared invaluable. Now he had me digging up historic midwife’s records; he believed that Chesterton and his wife might have lost twins before young George was born. That loss might modify how scholars had traditionally viewed the stoic farmer—and Jason might glean another career-advancing article.

  “You don’t understand.” David interrupted my scholarly distraction, using a weary parent’s tone of voice, as though I were an unruly toddler.

  “Explain it to me, then.” I forced myself to sit up and open my eyes. “Tell me what I’m missing. Tell me why this is so important. There are about a hundred other things I’d rather be doing, you know. I was supposed to be at yoga tonight with Melissa. And I should be packing for the weekend. I leave tomorrow morning.”

  “I know.”

  I heard his disapproval, as loud as a bonfire crackling. “And what’s that supposed to mean? Are you telling me that I shouldn’t go to my family reunion?”

  “I don’t have anything against your family.” He laid out his answer very precisely, with just the faintest emphasis on the last word.

  Jason. I never should have mentioned that Jason was coming to the Farm.

  Well, David Montrose had passed up his chance. After all, David was the one who had stood outside my cottage and kissed me goodnight before deciding that it was better off for both of us to stop our “relationship” before it began. I certainly wasn’t asked what I preferred.

  Not that I would ever trade Jason for David. Perish the thought.

  I knew Jason. I’d spent almost an entire year observing his every move. All the time that he’d been my Imaginary Boyfriend, I’d memorized his preferences, his quirks, the endearing little things he did that made my heart twist inside my chest.

  I didn’t know David well enough to get worked up about him. He didn’t make me tongue-tied. He didn’t make me question every word, every thought I had in his presence. There was no chemistry with David. No rush of flirtation. He was my warder, plain and simple.

  And he was acting as if he was in charge of every aspect of my life. Including my love life.

  Neko slunk in from the kitchen, carrying a tray laden with teapot, mugs, butter cookies, and a pitcher of cream the size of Montana. He poured oolong for all of us, then doctored his own, adding a quick dollop of tea to a mugful of cream. He blew on the lukewarm mixture and sipped daintily. When he finally noticed that David and I were studiously avoiding looking at each other, he pursed his lips and asked, “Are we having fun yet?”

  “I’ll be having fun tomorrow afternoon. When I’m in Connecticut.” I crossed my arms over my chest. I knew that I was acting like a petulant teenager, but what else could I say? David brought out the worst in me. If he was going to act like my schoolteacher, I was going to regress to the worst of my student days.

  Predictably, David sighed in exasperation and set down the mug that he had just picked up. “You know, we don’t have to do this, Jane. You can just hand over all the books downstairs. Let the Coven take charge, and you won’t have to worry about them any more. The crystals, too. The Coven would be thrilled to have the entire collection.”

  Neko slammed his own mug onto the table, letting some of his ecru-colored drink slop over the top. “Stunning advice,” he hissed, glaring at David. I was reminded immediately of the black cat that Neko once had been, and I wondered what he
would look like if he actually attacked in his feline form.

  David answered my familiar, but he looked directly at me. “It’s not ‘advice’, Neko. It’s merely a statement of fact. The Coven hasn’t interfered so far because I’ve convinced them that a valid witch has possession of the materials downstairs.” He pointed at my familiar. “The fact that Jane was able to awaken you is an indication that—at some level—the magic accepts her. I assure you, though, that the Coven is getting rather curious about the situation. They’re growing impatient. They want to meet Jane, know her capabilities. And they want to know exactly what is in that collection. I can’t put them off forever.”

  “Dammit, David! I’m not asking you to!” I responded more loudly than I’d intended. “All I’m asking is to be left alone until after my family reunion. Is that so much? The books were missing for decades. Can’t I take one more weekend, for myself?”

  David sighed. “You can take one more weekend.”

  Surprised by my sudden victory, I sank back onto the couch and hid my gloat behind a swallow of tea. As I thought about Neko’s hissed concern, though, it occurred to me that there was more at stake here than I had imagined at first. “David?”

  “What?” He sounded every bit as annoyed as I had felt.

  “If I did give back the books, what would happen to Neko?”

  David looked at the young man who sat in the chair beside me. Neko, for his part, studiously avoided both of us, apparently discovering endlessly fascinating patterns on the surface of his drink. When David answered, his voice was soft. “He goes with the materials. He’s the familiar for the collection.”

  “Not for the witch? Not for me?” I was stunned by how much David’s words hurt. As annoying as Neko might be, as frustrating as he was, I had become accustomed to sharing the cottage with him. I had just assumed that he was meant to help me. To stay with me.

  “If the collection is yours, then he is yours. But if you reject the collection, then he’ll go with it to the next witch who has the power to transform him.”

  Neko wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  I wondered if he was thinking about this cottage that he’d come to call home. Or the fish market down on 31st Street. Or the cream that he’d taken to buying in quart containers. Or Roger. Or me.

  I sighed. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll make a serious effort with my witchcraft after I get back from the Farm. But I really don’t have any choice about this weekend. I promised Gran.”

  “And Jason,” Neko added helpfully, stealing a butter cookie from the tray. So much for his everlasting loyalty as I made sacrifices to protect him from strangers.

  I watched David stiffen at my Boyfriend’s name. “What?” I said to him, and I was surprised to hear that my one-word question was a shout. “What can you possibly have against Jason Templeton?”

  David eyed me steadily. “Do you really want me to answer that question?

  His smooth certainty infuriated me. “Yes! I am sick and tired of your coming in here and posturing every time his name comes up. This isn’t some kind of contest between the two of you. Jason Templeton has nothing to do with you, Scott!”

  I was so deep into my tirade that it took me a moment to realize my mistake. The name of my ex-fiancé hovered in the air, taking on a life of its own, assuming every bit as much form and substance as Neko possessed.

  And in the end, it was Neko himself who broke the charged silence. “Well now,” he said. “Isn’t this uncomfortable?”

  “Shut up, Neko,” I said. I turned to David, whose face had set in a perfect, implacable mask. “Seriously. Jason has nothing to do with you. He is completely separate from your world. From witchcraft. From warding.”

  “My job is to keep you safe,” David said. His voice was so flat that it might have come from a million miles away.

  “And how can Jason possibly be a threat? Do you think that he’s going to come in here with a stake, or a silver bullet or, or, I don’t know, whatever kills witches?”

  “Of course not.” David set his answer perfectly in the center of the room, the words as smooth and polished as if he’d spent a lifetime carving away any hint of an offensive note.

  “And is he a threat to my powers? Do you think that he’ll suddenly decide to burn the books downstairs? Or steal my crystals? Or stab Neko?”

  “I have no reason to think that he will.” David sounded like Mr. Spock; he had stripped out every last vibration of emotion from his voice.

  “So you think that he’ll steal everything in the basement? Hide it away from the Coven? Sell it to the highest bidder on the magic black market?”

  “No.”

  I stood and gestured toward the door. “I think that we’re through with this conversation.”

  David stared at me for a long time. I watched the muscles in his jaws tighten, as if he were biting back words. He reminded me of the David that I’d met the night I awakened Neko. The dark David. The angry David.

  Gone was the man who had changed himself to appeal to me, and in his place was a man doing all that he could to test me. He was Petrucio, cracking his whip to tame my rebellious Kate. It seemed like he was trying to alienate me. To distance me.

  And he was being remarkably successful.

  He set down his mug and stood. He brushed his hands down the front of his slacks, as if he were shedding invisible crumbs. He looked at Neko for several heartbeats. My familiar gazed back, his almond eyes as distant and remote and unblinking as a cat’s.

  “Very well,” David said. “No more training.”

  I waited for him to finish, and when he did not, I made my voice as firm as I could and said, “Until I get back from the Farm.”

  “No.” He shook his head slowly. “No more training from me at all. Things have become too confused. Too confusing. I had hoped to avoid that, but I can see that I was not successful.”

  He held out his hand, as if we were concluding a business meeting. I stared at it, not offering my own. “You’re kidding, right?” I finally said. “You want me to think about what you’ve told me tonight. You want me to realize that I need you, and then get back to witch school like a good little student. Right?”

  He did not answer. I looked to Neko, but he gave me no further guidance. His gaze was pinned on David, as intent as a cat stalking a broken-winged bird.

  I tried again. “So, do you want me to apologize? Is that it? I’m sorry, and I want you to be my teacher again?”

  David’s voice was perfectly even. “I don’t want anything of the sort. I want you to be content in your life. I want you to know who you are and what you are. I want you to be balanced, so that you can find all your natural power and strength. Jane, I want you to be happy.”

  “And your walking out of here tonight is going to make me happy?”

  “In the short term,” he said, his voice so dry that he might have been lost in a desert.

  I said, “And in the long term?”

  “In the long term, the Coven will take care of you. They’ll provide you with a proper trainer. Someone who is used to teaching witches. You don’t need to be afraid; they’ll be fair about everything. They won’t test you until you’re able to show your true potential.”

  He made everything sound so reasonable. So sane. So utterly, perfectly normal. “And if I can’t learn from the Coven’s teacher?”

  “Then they’ll take back the books.”

  “And Neko?”

  He nodded, not sparing my familiar a glance. “And Neko.”

  Before I could even begin to figure out a response to that, David crossed to the front door. “Enjoy the Farm, Jane. But be careful. And apply yourself when you come back here. Work with your teacher.”

  Then he was gone.

  My warder was walking down the garden path outside my home. I stared after him until he turned the corner of the library, until he was out of sight. Until he was clearly not coming back again.

  I sat down on the couch and stared at Neko. My belly ached
, and I realized that I was dangerously close to tears.

  I felt like David and I had just broken up. We’d never been going out, and now we had broken up. Hell, we had shared one kiss, and now I was parsing every word of his conversation, trying to figure out what he had meant, why he had spoken, what did he mean when he said….

  I knew this feeling. I remembered it. It had swooped over me when Scott phoned from London that last time. I had lived with it for those long days after my beloved fiancé had told me that we should see other people. That he had started to see someone else. That he wanted his ring back.

  But why should David Montrose make me feel that way? Especially when our fight was about the real love of my life, my Boyfriend, Jason?

  I gulped the last of my tea as if it were a vodka shot, closing my eyes. Actually, I could use some vodka. Or mojitos. Was it too late to call Melissa?

  I looked at my watch. 10:30 on a school night. It was too late to get started with mojito therapy.

  I closed my eyes and collapsed back on the couch.

  “Burning,” Neko said, breaking the silence at last.

  “What?”

  “Burning witches. Stakes are for vampires, and silver bullets are for werewolves.”

  “Gee. Thanks,” I said. “I guess.”

  “Anything I can do to help,” he said. “More tea?”

  I shook my head and heaved myself upright. It was time to go to bed. Cut my losses for the night.

  Tomorrow would be an all new day. I would get up early to pack. I would take a cab over to Gran’s apartment. We’d drive up to the Farm. I would get ready for Jason to arrive on Saturday. And I wouldn’t have to worry about witches or warders or familiars until after the long weekend was over.

  Chapter 25

  It was still dark out when I attempted to leave the next morning.

  Attempted. It took me three tries to actually get out the door. First, I forgot my keys to Gran’s apartment. Then, I left behind my carefully hoarded bag of Sephora cosmetics. Then, I forgot the box of condoms that had languished in my night stand for nearly a year, a present from Melissa to celebrate my so-called freedom from Scott, once he had broken off our engagement. I had not looked favorably on the gift at the time, but now I allowed a spiral of excitement to uncurl in my belly at the thought that they might—finally!—be put to excellent use.