by Belle Malory
“Actually, I was going for popstar chic.”
His eyes lit up when he finally caught on. He grinned slyly. “You’re trying to look like your sister.”
I nodded, confirming his assumption. “Her name will get us into that party.”
“You think they’ll just let you in?” he asked skeptically.
“Not me, but they’d roll out the red carpet for Indie Spencer, mega popstar princess.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, considering the plan. “Do you really think you can pull this off?”
“People mistake me for her all the time. If I exaggerate my makeup and curl my hair, I can pass for her twin.”
“A twin isn’t good enough though,” he countered. “What if someone she personally knows happens to confront you? Like the music producer guy, what if he starts chatting you up, and realizes you’re not who you say you are?”
I dismissed the idea with a wave of my hand. “All we need to worry about is getting in. Once we’ve accomplished that, no one else matters. We’ll head straight for Marcellus.”
He thought about that for a few moments. In what I hoped to be a nod of approval, he eventually said, “You look fine, but I prefer the red dress from the traveler wedding.”
Inwardly, I smiled, secretly thrilled to hear him say that. Indie was so opposite from the red dress in every way, whereas the black dress I wore now was definitely her style. “So do I,” I agreed. “But tonight isn’t about being me.”
“In that case, this dress will do.”
After we bought our costumes, we had some time to kill. Since Rex had been to Vancouver several times before, he showed me different parts of the city while regaling me with Vancouver related trivia. He took the job very seriously. He spoke with his best tourist guide voice, pointing out famous buildings and landmarks. I presumed his vast knowledge of foreign cities was part and parcel with the whole gypsy thing, which he certainly took an immeasurable amount of pride in showing off.
We ate a late lunch by the bay at another of Rex’s secret spots. I had to hand it to him, the food was delicious and the ocean views were incredible. “You really know places,” I remarked appreciatively. “I envy you for that.”
“You know places too,” he returned. “You just don’t remember them.”
I thought about that comment the entire ride back to the hotel. Rex’s words echoed in my mind hundreds of times. You just don’t remember them. Why was that one little sentence bothering me so much? I’d gone my whole life ‘not remembering’ my past lives, and not caring one bit. So why should it matter now?
“Are you okay?” Rex asked as we walked into the room.
“Oh, I’m fine.” I lied.
“I hate to be blunt, babe, but I can tell that you’re lying.”
I shrugged. “Maybe I’m just a little worried about tonight.”
“Don’t worry,” he reassured me. “We’ll find the witch. And once we do, you’ll ask him nicely to remove the curse. If he doesn’t cooperate, then it’ll be my turn to ask him. I doubt I’ll ask as politely as you.”
That made me smile. “Are we officially resorting to dirty tactics?”
“Possibly.”
“So be it,” I agreed. “This man has practically ruined my entire existence. I’ll support whatever it takes, dirty tactics not excluded.”
Later that night, after curling my hair and applying Indie’s standard smoky-eye makeup, I looked in the mirror and saw a replica of my sister staring back at me. I stood there for a while, immobile with a feeling I couldn’t name at first. And then I realized something was happening I never thought could happen.
I missed her.
It was the first time I’d really felt it, but it was inevitably true. I almost wanted to talk to my reflection, and would’ve, if I actually believed I’d hear Indie’s silky voice talking back to me.
A knock at the bathroom door interrupted my thoughts. I opened it to find Rex looking just as dashing as he did on the day of the traveler wedding. Even more so, really. Probably because my feelings for him only added to his attractiveness, causing me to want him that much more.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked.
I nodded and spun around for him. “So whadya think?”
He regarded me, taking in my new look. “I have to hand it to you, Spence. You look exactly like her.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling.
He pointed to his watch, tapping the face to let me know we needed to get moving. “The party is starting.”
“Okay. Let’s go.” I paused, overcome with a trembling feeling. “Rex?” I asked, a note of concern filling my voice.
“Yes?”
“Do you think this plan will work?”
He sighed, and I felt him reach for my hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze, trying to comfort me. “We’ll never know unless we try.”
I nodded. All I could do was try. Otherwise, the rest of my life would become filled with a lot of what-ifs.
Not just this life. Maybe all of them.
Eighteen
It was a breeze getting into T.J. Rogem’s private birthday party, even easier than I’d imagined. I simply flounced up to the doorman in a very Indie-like fashion and announced my presence like I belonged there. The stuttering doorman could barely utter words he was so tongue-tied. He let me in, no questions asked. I don’t even think he’d spared a glance at his guest list. Rex was impressed.
Marcellus owned the penthouse, so we headed to the top floor of the Fairmont Estates. We weren’t speaking; the magnitude of tonight’s events weighed too heavily on our minds. The atmosphere turned thick with tension, as if we were on a mission.
As the elevator reached the top floor, booming speakers vibrated from the other side. With a small ding, the doors opened and we were spat out into a colorful array of glamorous partiers. The room practically sparkled with elegance. There were beautiful, stylish people everywhere, talking, laughing, drinking or jumping up and down on the dance floor.
A pang of anxiety hit me hard. My breathing wavered. I needed to get out of there, and quickly.
I bolted for the first door I found.
Rex followed after me, holding up his hands as if to say What’s going on with you?
I didn’t know how to find the words to explain to him what was happening to me. I could barely breathe, much less offer an explanation.
He shut the door behind us, inside what looked to be a small linen closet.
Every breath I took was a struggle, coming out in short gasps. He watched me for a moment intently, his brow smoothing out as if he started to understand. He didn’t ask me what was wrong. Instead, he tried to help me calm down by saying nice things.
“Everything will be fine,” he said. “Breathe easy. That’s it. In and out, very slowly.”
He breathed with me as if we were in a lamaze class. I would’ve thought it was ridiculously funny, if I weren’t already so freaked out.
“Things are going well so far,” he assured me. “We got in, didn’t we?”
I nodded, trying to steady my breathing. Rex’s eyes remained locked with mine the entire time.
“You sound like Gabe,” I said, between breaths. “Completely calm.”
“That’s because we’ve both been professionally trained at dealing with lunatics and psychotic murderers.”
My eyes widened at that. I held my hand to my chest involuntarily. It felt like my heart was hurting.
“That was just a joke. Come on, babe, lighten up.”
Right. I knew it was a joke.
“Try thinking of something else,” he suggested.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “How about. . .”
I waited, breathing in and out, deeply. Suddenly, Rex cupped my face. I looked at him, bewildered by the strange gesture. Rex brought his mouth down against mine, light as a feather, and kissed me. Our lips touched for one enthralling moment before he pulled away.
Stil
l holding my face in my hands, he searched my eyes. “Better?”
I listened for my rampant heart. It was still frantic, but not in a scary way.
“Oddly, yeah,” I replied, nodding. “It is better.”
Idiot. I should have asked him to do it again. More thoroughly this time.
I looked into Rex’s eyes, seeing the amber shade glow warmly. There was a strange fascination within them. He was looking at me as if he hadn’t expected to feel whatever it was that just passed between us.
“You’re falling for me.” I smiled.
He snorted. “I most definitely am not falling for you.”
I ignored his statement. “You are,” I said confidently.
He groaned softly. “I was only trying to distract you from your anxiety,” he insisted. “Don’t put anymore stock into it than that.”
Something was off with him. He seemed really uncomfortable, as if the room was caving in on us and he needed to get out of there quickly.
I smiled victoriously, not believing his lies for a second. “Well, it worked,” I said. “So thanks. I’m ready to go find the witch now.”
“After you.” He opened the closet door, gesturing for me to exit.
We walked through the crowd of partiers in search of Marcellus. This time I was able to breathe easier, thankfully.
I tapped the shoulder of a woman dressed in a silky green dress. After she turned to face me, I yelled over the music, “Do you know where Marcellus is?”
She appeared confused. “Do you mean Marc?”
I nodded. “I think so. The guy that owns this place,” I clarified.
“Last time I saw Marc,” she said. “He was out on the patio.” She lifted a slender, diamond-encrusted wrist to motion towards the back of the apartment. “Over there.”
“Thanks for your help,” I said.
“Of course!” she exclaimed. “By the way, I like this dress better than the yellow.”
“What?” I asked, not sure if I’d heard her correctly.
But my question went unheard beneath the loud music, as the woman had already turned away.
Rex pointed to sliding glass doors leading to the terrace. He leaned close, shouting, “I think that’s him.”
I moved closer, in order to get a good look.
There was a man sitting at a table by the ledge of the balcony. He was probably in his late forties. He had dark brown hair with subtle streaks of gray. He wore a well-tailored suit and smoked a cigar. He didn’t look like a witch, I mused. Then again, that was just the gypsy word for whatever he actually was.
“How do you know it’s him?” I asked Rex.
“I don’t,” he replied. “I’m only guessing. The people flocking around him look excited to be here. He looks bored.”
I inhaled, taking a final, deep breath. “Here goes nothing,” I said to myself. Pulling back my shoulders, I headed out to the patio and walked straight towards the man with the cigar.
He was sitting there, gazing into the crowd and blowing out hazy clouds of smoke. I cleared my throat in order to get his attention. His movements were dreadfully slow, similar to someone who was stoned. He lifted his gaze to meet mine.
“Marcellus de Clemente?”
He stared at me for one long, painful moment. Then he smiled. “Hello, Serena,” he said. “What a nice surprise.”
Marcellus offered me a drink from his liquor cabinet, which I declined. He poured one for himself, likely in preparation for the uncomfortable conversation he knew we were bound to have.
At least he agreed to speak in private. He showed me to his office in order to escape the party noise. He wouldn’t, however, let Rex join us.
“It’s okay,” I said to Rex when he’d tried to come with me. “I’ll let you know if I need you.”
Rex had not been very happy about that. He insisted on waiting directly outside the door, and told me to shout if I ran into any trouble.
Marcellus didn’t seem like a man who could be bullied though. He had a team of security guards who followed him wherever he went. Even now, there were members of that security team who waited alongside Rex behind the door.
“So it’s Estelle now,” Marcellus said, pronouncing each of the syllables thoroughly. “Where’d you get that God-awful name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“It was my grandmother’s,” I answered coolly.
There was something about his presence that bothered me. Everything about him, his entire demeanor, even the sound of his voice set me off. My dislike of him was becoming increasingly apparent. Hardly a surprise. He had cursed me, after all.
“What’s this?” he asked. “Don’t gypsies usually revert back to whatever name they like the best?”
“I’m not a gypsy,” I explained. “Well, I wasn’t born into a gypsy’s life anyway.”
“Ah,” he said. He threw back a shot of whatever he’d poured in his glass. “That makes sense. I suppose it’s the work of Zetta, eh?”
“You know Zetta?” I asked, dumbfounded.
He looked at me strangely for a few moments, seemingly confused. “What is it you’re getting at, Serena?” He shook his head, correcting his blunder. “Estelle, I mean.”
“Sorry,” I said, realizing my own mistake. “I should probably mention how I don’t remember anything.”
He tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t remember anything from the past,” I clarified. “Which is also Zetta’s doing.”
He nodded, understanding. “If you remembered your past, you probably wouldn’t be here right now.”
“I probably shouldn’t be here,” I agreed. “I know you’ve cursed me. For what, I can’t remember. But I’ve come to beg you, Marcellus, to forgive me. I sincerely apologize for how ever I’ve wronged you.”
He paused for a moment, grasping the situation. Then he chuckled softly, almost regretfully. “I wish I could, Estelle. You’ve no idea how much I wish I could.”
I couldn’t accept his cryptic statement for what it was. “Please,” I pleaded. “I’m sure you only meant to punish me, but you’ve no idea how much damage I’m capable of.”
Marcellus poured himself another drink and gestured for me to sit in one of the chairs across from his desk. I sat down, and he followed suit.
“It’s ironic,” he said. “That we keep meeting like this. The first time I laid eyes on you was in a study very similar to this office.”
I looked around, sensing he’d spoken the truth. The room was decorated in traditional furniture and fabrics, unlike the rest of the modern-styled condo. The setting seemed eerily familiar, causing me to experience a heavy bout of déjà vu.
“Anyway,” he continued. “I appreciate your apology, though it’s ill-served. I can’t reverse the curse.”
“B-but you have to,” I sputtered. “You’re the only one who can.”
“That, my dear, I highly doubt is true. But I can’t reverse it. I don’t even have the capability to do so anymore.”
A tidal wave of disappointment crashed over me. “Why?”
“Mother Nature’s way of telling me I’ve disappointed her, I’m sure. Look at me Estelle.”
I looked Marcellus directly in the eyes.
“I’m getting old,” he said bitterly. “And it’s my own fault. I should’ve lived for an eternity. My kind rarely age. Yet, here I am, aging.”
I didn’t think he looked that old. Probably mid-forties, his dark hair was lightly peppered with gray. His face bore no wrinkles though. There was no other evidence to attest to his aging.
He sighed, closing his eyes. Eventually, he opened them up again, and met my disheartened gaze. “There were others who warned me I was being foolish,” he explained. “I didn’t want to listen to them. I used my abilities to serve myself and myself alone, which set the natural order of things off balance. My abilities faded until they were nothing. I even have trouble with my herb garden, it’s gotten so bad. But it’s my burden to bear. This is wh
y, as much as I’d like to say otherwise, I cannot help you reverse the curse.”
“You’re saying you don’t possess an ounce of magic?”
He shook his head. “Not a drop.”
It was my turn to sigh. I did so, feeling the pent up hope deflating from my body. How could I have come so far and gone through so much, just to be led straight into a dead-end? It didn’t seem fair.
I grasped onto something Marcellus had said. “You mentioned it’s possible for someone else to reverse it,” I pointed out. “Do you know of anyone?”
“I’ve no idea, to be honest. The people in my old circles ended their friendships with me decades ago.” He paused, contemplating. “You may be able to break it yourself, if you’ve a mind to.”
I snorted at that. “I’ve strained against it so many times I’ve nearly passed out from exhaustion. If there’s a way to break it, it can’t be done by me.”
He considered what I’d said, but still seemed skeptical. “You may surprise yourself. Perhaps you only need to find the right reasons to break it.”
“As much as I’d like to believe that, I just can’t. Not after everything I’ve been through.”
Marcellus stood up, signaling the end of our conversation. “For what it’s worth, Estelle, I’m sorry.”
His apology would be a difficult one to accept. I was undeniably angry with him, though I was keeping it well contained. I could cheerfully murder Marcellus for what he’d done.
“I suppose you got what was coming to you,” I allowed. And it was true. He could no longer practice the art of magic. He wouldn’t have the opportunity to do this to anyone else. That, if nothing else, should relieve me.
I thought about asking him why he’d cursed me. I was halfway out the door, my mouth open, yet the words hung on my lips. I closed my mouth, too fearful of what I’d find out.
At least I found him, I thought. I did what I’d set out to do, even if it was all for nothing. I would have the satisfaction of knowing that.
I stepped outside of the office doors, feeling a tiny bit better.
“By the way,” Marcellus called out. “There is a young singer here tonight. Your resemblance to her is uncanny.”