The Trouble with Magic

by Madelyn Alt

  All right, so I was a bit of a weenie. As the saying goes, it's a dirty job…

  All eyes were on me. I was pretty sure I was expected to say something pithy yet brilliant. Reminded all too much of Mrs. Dumreddy's speech class, I cleared my throat. "Well. I guess you all have heard a little about the trouble I've been having. I, uh, don't know quite what to think yet. I don't know whether I believe in… all this…"

  "Hey. Maggie." Devin McAllister drew my attention to him, his tone reassuring, his eyes intense behind his funny little glasses. "We've all had our doubts. You'll get over them on your own terms. Take your time. It's okay."

  I nodded, my throat tight with unexpected emotion. The overwhelming sense of acceptance in this room humbled me. "Thanks. It's just a little overwhelming, is all. You know? I don't understand why… why me? Voices from the darkness, moments of debilitating emotion. Knowledge of things I shouldn't have. I thought I must be going crazy."

  "I felt different," Evie confessed in a small voice, still hugging her knees. "No one else sees the things I see. No one else hears what I hear. All I wanted was to be like them. I didn't want to be different. I wanted to belong."

  There was a moment of silence while I absorbed the truth of Evie's concerns. The trouble was, I've always known I didn't belong. Everyone else knew it, too. I suppose that's why girls like Margo worked so hard to keep girls like me out of their little cliques. People had a tendency to band together. Like meets like. Anything else made them nervous.

  The question that had lodged itself in my throat refused to be swallowed. "Are you… are you all witches, then?"

  Genevieve turned away from the brownie plate with a chuckle. "We are seekers of the truth," she said simply. "No one much cares about anything else."

  "Maggie."

  I looked up at Felicity's voice. Her eyes shone like candles in the dimly lit room.

  "We all of us know what you are feeling," she said softly. "Use us. Let the group be your anchor as you travel the path of discovery. Of acceptance. We are here for you." Not expecting me to give her an answer, she addressed the room at large: "If everyone is ready, gather 'round. Time for Circle."

  I stood up uncertainly as everyone rose from their pillows and held out their hands to their neighbor. The person to my right bumped my hand with the back of theirs. I looked over. Genevieve had taken her place beside me and gazed at me with a question in her eyes, and I knew she was asking me whether I would participate. Excitement zinged up my spine. Or was that apprehension? In the end I knew it didn't matter. I would never get past my fear by hiding from what frightened me. I would never understand by remaining in the shadows.

  I hesitated only a moment, then calmly, deliberately, clasped her hand.

  Felicity took her place at my left and closed the circle, and I started involuntarily. Something warm and crackling seemed to be flowing from person to person around the circle. Something like electricity. I could feel it coursing through my palm and up my right arm, across my chest cavity, then down my arm and on through to Felicity on my left. Charged by the strange energy, the fine hairs rose on my arms. My scalp tingled. I took a deep breath. My body felt weightless. I needed only to let go and I would go sailing off into space and time, slipping easily through the glass membrane of the skylight, straight to the stars.

  Felicity's voice rang out, clear and strong:

  In the name of all that is sacred,

  we cast our circle 'round,

  By the turning of the eternal wheel,

  by friendship are we bound.

  The carefully intoned words worked on my natural suspicion and wariness to elicit a response from deep inside me. I quivered, sucked into a dream world of Felicity's making.

  In this circle,

  Carefully drawn,

  Knowledge we seek,

  Truth be found.

  In this circle

  We form a connection,

  Shadows stay out,

  Light our protection.

  In this day

  And from this hour,

  Friendship is strength,

  Love is power.

  As we will it

  So will it pass.

  As we will it

  So mote it be.

  She repeated the words twice more. Each time she ended with the words So mote it be, others chimed in with Amen and Alleluia. Strange, that it felt so natural. So balanced. So right.

  As the ritual ended, I breathed deeply, letting the words, the electricity that in the blink of an eye had managed to infiltrate my worldview and turn it upside down, flow more slowly through me until it ebbed away completely, leaving me with only the memory still scudding in my blood.

  When I was able to summon the gumption to open my eyes, I discovered I hadn't been the only one affected by the words spoken in candlelight. From Devin to Genevieve to Eli, everyone seemed to be blinking away the effects. The candles at the quarter points burned high, the flames leaping and dancing. I blinked repeatedly until the room started to look normal again.

  Felicity appeared before me, the gaily painted plate of brownies held in her hands. "Everyone, take a brownie." To me specifically, she murmured, "You should eat something in order to ground some of the energy we just raised."

  I took one, and—God, it looked luscious. I had only just taken a nibble when Genevieve began stamping her feet against the floorboards. I gaped at her. I gaped even more when the others started behaving in equally nonsensical ways, some sitting Indian-style, some lying full-out on the floor.

  Genevieve intercepted my astonished look and she stopped her stork-like dance. "You need to release the energy." She stamped her feet again to demonstrate. "Send it back into the earth. Otherwise you'll be up all night."

  Uh, yeah.

  Feeling stupid, I just nodded and halfheartedly dashed my feet at the floorboards in case she was watching, then edged away. Now that the mundane world was starting to return, it was easier to deny that anything was strange or unusual about this entire situation except for the people I had met here.

  The door at the foot of the stairs clicked and creaked, then came the tread of heavy boots up the steps.

  "Sorry I'm late," a familiar voice called out, and with that Marcus Quinn came skidding around the corner in his clunky biker boots, his wavy black hair loose beneath a tight black do-rag. "I hope you guys went ahead without me. Hey, Liss." He caught sight of me then, and slow mirth touched his sensual lips. "Well, if it isn't little Maggie. I should have known I'd find you here with us sooner or later. Liss has that effect on people."

  He shrugged out of his leather jacket with all its zippers and chains and tossed it to Evie, who caught it up against her nonexistent breasts with a blush and a breathy giggle. Walking past her to greet Liss, he chucked Evie under the chin, much to her obvious delight.

  Seemed like Marcus had an effect on people, too. Women in general. Me, included, much as I hated to admit it. Under his jacket he wore jeans and a plain white T-shirt, undersized enough to have to stretch over the ridges and planes of his chest and to catch on the bulge of his biceps. Now, Marcus wasn't a big man by any stretch of the imagination, but he was lean and lanky and hard in a way that made me think of cowboys. Marcus was a cowboy with attitude.

  He greeted Liss with a kiss on the cheek that completely deflated my appreciative little bubble. All for the better, I thought as I turned away. He obviously adored her. What I wouldn't give for a man to feel that way about me. And to feel that same way about him.

  My thoughts turned unbidden to Tom Fielding, and the date I'd avoided by the skin of my teeth. I couldn't help wondering…

  "So, Maggie, what do you think about our group?" Marcus asked, his arm looped 'round Felicity's waist.

  Direct question. So hard to deflect. "I, uh… Well, it's been interesting."

  "And?"

  His eyes probed mine. I glanced away, but my gaze caught on his long fingers curved so attentively around her waist. "And… I guess I'm not sure. I
'm not sure what to think." Everyone was watching me, curiosity shining from their eyes. I wasn't about to air my questions in front of the lot of them. Any questions I had could wait until I could talk to Felicity alone. "Thanks, everyone, for including me tonight. Sorry for leaving so soon, but… I have to go."

  Felicity followed me around while I gathered my coat and purse. "Are you all right, Maggie?"

  "Fine." I sent her a reassuring smile. "Really."

  "You're sure?"

  I nodded. "We can talk more on Monday, or even tomorrow if you like, but I should get home now. It's been a long day. I'm fine. Really."

  "You said that," she pointed out. "If you have to go, I won't stop you. But we really do need to talk more, Maggie. There is so much you don't understand."

  I nodded and escaped as quickly as I could, knowing her eyes followed my path down the stairs, and knowing that what I would see within hers, should I turn back to look, was concern. It was too much. Today was too much. But I didn't plan to go home. Not yet. I needed some air, some cool, autumn air to blow the cobwebs from my head.

  The store was pitch black downstairs. I carefully picked my way through the merchandise I could by now see even with my eyes closed and let myself out the back door into the parking area. Christine was there waiting for me, the Tanto to my Lone Ranger. Or should that be Silver? Whatever. I paused by her door, wishing for light as I dug through my purse for the keys that had disappeared on me.

  "Lose something?"

  Chapter Thirteen

  My breath snagged in my throat. I whipped around, pressing my back to Christine, my hand clutched to my breast like a heroine in the best classic tradition. The wall of the building was shrouded in shadow. I blinked hard and stretched my eyes wide as I tried to find a point of focus on the murky darkness surrounding me. Then I decided self-preservation was a much better idea. Without further ado, I scrabbled behind me for the doorhandle, remembering at the last minute that I had locked the door securely against invasion. Mine or otherwise.

  A darker shadow emerged from the gloom against the building, then straightened, assuming the shape of a man.

  Mother Mary, mother, mother, pray for me…

  I watched in horror, a scream clawing its way up my throat. I was half a second from letting it rip when for a moment I thought I recognized…

  "Tom?" I squeaked, willing it to be true. I mean, it wasn't that I really wanted to see him—quite the opposite—but the alternative was too terrifying for words.

  "Good guess."

  On the other hand, it also meant I was busted. I cleared my throat nervously as his head and shoulders emerged into the dim glow of the security light at the corner of the building. He didn't look happy. "Um, I take it you received my message?"

  "That would be affirmative." He moved toward me. Just a step, but it was enough to make my pulse to do the two-step again. "After I stopped by your apartment to pick you up, of course."

  "Oh. Sorry." It seemed to me that it would be in my best interests to try to steer the conversation into less agitated waters. "Er, what are you doing here?"

  Another step closer. "You didn't answer your door."

  Ripples of nervousness played havoc with my equilibrium. "I—"

  His intense gaze locked with mine, his gray eyes near black in the weak light, daring me to look away. One more step and he stood in front of me, his hands slung low on his hips. I couldn't move. It wasn't that he had physically hemmed me in; more it was the overwhelming aura of masculinity that held me in its sway. Danger and desire and fear made for a decidedly potent brew.

  Invisible air currents delivered the citrus tang of his cologne to my nose. A hint of soap, as though he'd just shaved. Elusive. Seductive.

  Mother Mary, pray for me!

  He leaned into me, perilously close. "You know, if you're going to play possum, darlin', you're going to have to remember the little details…" His voice, pitched so low I had a strange urge to lean in closer for fear of missing out, sent shivers trembling up my spine. "Like your car parked curb-side on the city street."

  Hot blood rushed to my face. "Something suddenly came up," I mumbled.

  "You know, I have to tell you. I saw that Brady Bunch episode, and as I recall, Marcia didn't get away with it either. Why don't you just cut to the chase and tell me why you ducked out on me?"

  "I didn't duck out on you." I was doing my best to remain calm and level-headed, but it's terribly hard to think straight when you have two hundred and ten pounds of male testosterone facing you down. "I just… thought it might be a bit premature for us to…"

  "What? Have a cup of coffee? Chat? About the weather? About your boss? Or were you afraid I was going to have my way with you after a few hours of long… slow… kisses?"

  Okay, well, there was that…

  I swallowed the sudden upsurge of longing that made me want to throw my arms around his neck and ravish him right there on the street corner.

  Easy there, Maggie my girl…

  He was using seduction against me; I knew it. I couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten to me.

  "I have to go," I said, turning my face away.

  He laughed softly. "Running away again?"

  I reacted instantly, as he must have known I would. And then I thought about Felicity, and the way Tom had come into the store after Isabella had been found dead. It was obvious he didn't much like Felicity and had been trying to warn me away. Why would he do that?

  I had to find out.

  "All right," I said as serenely as possible. "What do you propose I do instead?"

  The smile that quirked at the left corner of his mouth screamed pure victory. He was about to tell me when the door to the store opened behind him.

  A cigarette tip glowed red momentarily from the shadows, then Marcus stepped forward. Shadow from shadow. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. Need any help, Maggie?"

  I licked my dry lips, grateful for the distraction because it gave me a much needed moment to regroup. "Thanks, Marcus, but I think I can handle it."

  "You sure?" he pressed, his itinerant gaze busy sizing Tom up. Cigarette smoke wound around his head like a slithering silver snake. It made him appear just a little bit devilish and wicked. But then, everything about Marcus seemed just a bit devilish and wicked. That was part of his charm.

  Tom straightened to his full height. "Miss O'Neill said everything was fine, Quinn."

  They know each other, I realized with a start. Know, but not like.

  Why did that surprise me?

  "Just had to make sure. You know I can't stand it when men take their frustrations out on women."

  Tom's brows came together like a clap of thunder and he opened his mouth to snap out a retort, but Marcus had already faded to black in the shadows. For a moment I thought he might still be there, watching us, but the heavy silence reassured me he'd gone back inside.

  I turned to Tom, whose brow was still creased with annoyance. He'd linked his thumbs through his belt loops, his fingertips playing a razzmatazz against his hipbones. "Do you think that's what I'm doing?" he asked finally. "Taking out my frustrations?"

  He looked so miserable that I couldn't help but want to reassure him. "He was just being protective, Tom." He didn't seem to like that answer any more than a straight yes, so I added, "Did you want to go somewhere? Get a cup of coffee or something?"

  He just looked at me. "I thought you wanted to run away."

  "Well, I figure that's a lost cause. You're not going to let me, so I might as well get a good cup of coffee out of it."

  He coughed out a chuckle against his will. Still, the desire to question me must have won out over his wounded pride. He glanced at his watch. "It's past midnight. Not much open. Do you mind the truckstop?"

  Ivy's Truckstop was one of the true abiding fixtures of town. Ten years ago, Stony Mill had still looked like something out of the Farmer's Almanac. Back in those golden days before the fast-food revolution, Ivy's had been the town'
s only watering hole that didn't actually offer alcoholic beverages on the menu, a place where farmers and truckers and good old boys gathered together for a bit of down-home cooking and conversation. Grandpa Gordon used to take me there, but I hadn't gone since he'd had his driver's license taken away for taking out the gazebo on the courthouse square. It might be good to see how things had changed.

  "Sure," I said. "Why not?"

  * * * *

  I insisted on driving. I figured if I had to be out on the town into the wee hours with someone I didn't know very well, at least I wouldn't have to depend on his good intentions to get me home. "Hop in."

  There is something about the way a big hunky guy looks all folded up in a car built for midgets that never fails to strike me as funny. I squelched a giggle and solemnly turned the key in the ignition. "You can, er, move the seat back. If you need to."

  He mumbled something unintelligible—that's pretty common when your kneecaps are jammed up against your lips—and patted around for the release. Stretched… extended… reeeeached…

  I couldn't stand it. "Here, let me get that for you."

  Our fingers closed around the lever at the same time. The bucket seat went sailing backward on well-greased tracks. Caught unawares, I lost my balance and pitched forward right along with it. Tom reached out instantly to catch my fall but missed as the seat thunked to a halt at the end of the track. My nose bumped into his shoulder anyway.

  "Ow," I said, my pride hurt more than my nose. Still, I reached up my hand to rub it and used it as cover to risk a glance up at him.