“I didn’t say you do it on purpose,” Bryn said.
I frowned, thinking it wasn’t too fair that he could argue with me when he couldn’t even hear my side.
His hand slid down and clutched mine. “C’mon. Let’s get you a pen and paper, so you can write down what happened.”
“Good idea,” I said, following him down the hall and into his study. He sat me in his desk chair, saying it was really strange not being able to see me, and it would be nice if I could sit in one place so he’d know where to face when he talked to me.
I gave him a quick double pinch. “Boy, too bad I didn’t make myself accidentally invisible when the Conclave was in town and I needed to spy on them. Like this, I could be the best spy ever. Or the best cat burglar.”
He set a pen and blank piece of paper in front of me. And then grabbed a throw blanket from the couch and wrapped it around my shoulders.
“Not that I would rob people. ’Cause, hey, one of the good guys here. But I could be as good as a ghost or a fly on the wall at collecting gossip in this nobody-can-see-me state. Vangie would envy me. She loves eavesdropping.”
I wrote a short version of what had happened and the spell I’d said to try to get rid of Skeleton Guy. I drew an arrow next to Crux’s name and a scary-faced little skull next to the words Skeleton Guy like I was one of those guys who works for the Internet and makes the icons for e-mail. The pictures did dress it up a little, and I started to draw Merc, too. I only got the ears and part of his face down before Bryn cleared his throat impatiently.
“Um, yeah, okay. You’re right. This is no time to get Google-logo artistic on things.” I lifted the page to Bryn, and he took it.
Bryn read it over. He pointed at the partial drawing. “What’s this?”
I took the paper and finished Merc’s cat body and put whiskers, spots, and stripes on him.
“Mercutio,” Bryn said. “So you drew as part of the spell? In the grass? Did you use a stick?”
I pinched him once.
“You didn’t draw as part of the spell?”
I pinched him once again.
“So why are you drawing now?” he asked.
I bent over the paper and wrote, For decoration, adding another whisker to Mercutio’s cute little drawing face.
“Tamara,” Bryn said in a disapproving tone. When Bryn’s working, he’s very serious. I don’t hold as strictly to seriousness myself.
I glanced up at him, sympathizing with the poor guy. “Invisible Me is just as exasperating as Regular Me, huh?” I patted his hand. “Sorry about that.”
Bryn’s expression softened, and he caught my hand and lifted it to his mouth. He pressed a kiss onto my skin and let it go.
“I love you, too,” I whispered, and then because sometimes he’s got to put up with a lot, I bent over the paper and wrote the words.
He read them and smiled. “All right, let’s see what we can find,” he said, walking to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that take up one wall of the room.
I wrote another note on the paper.
Making me visible again isn’t actually my highest priority. I need to find Vangie and to do that I need to get past Skeleton Guy. Actually, now that I know he can’t see me, I can go back for her while you stay here doing research. By the way, can I borrow a gun?
I hopped up and carried the paper to Bryn, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. He took the sheet and read it.
“The gun’s not a problem, but I should go with you to find Vangie.”
“No, this is a job for the one of us who’s invisible.” I pinched him once.
He frowned. “I don’t like the idea of you going alone. If you got hurt or were captured, I wouldn’t be able to find you or even see you if you were lying ten feet from me. It’s—”
I took the sheet back to the desk and wrote: No one can get me since no one can see me. I’ll be okay. I’m going!
Bryn came over to see what I’d written. “You’ll be okay, huh? Because you never almost get yourself killed when you’re out of my sight.”
I huffed and picked up the pen. Having an argument with Bryn was even more aggravating than usual when I had to stop and write everything out.
Then it occurred to me that I didn’t actually need to negotiate. I could walk out any time without him even knowing it. Of course that would’ve been bad manners.
I was about to ask again for the gun, but then I realized that like the pen and paper, it wouldn’t be invisible. Skeleton Guy and anyone else who wanted to get in my way, like Crux, would be able to spot a gun and track my movements by it.
Never mind about gun. Can’t risk it being seen. I’ll dry the clothes I have on and then head out. I promise to be careful.
Then I drew a heart and a chocolate kiss next to it.
He sighed, but nodded.
I left him and took a shower while my pajamas and underwear were in the washing machine. Afterward, I tossed them in the dryer. I got a blanket from the guest room and wrapped it around me and used a hair dryer on my hair. It felt wonderful to be warm and dry.
An idea occurred to me. Ever since Bryn and I had mixed magic, he’d been able to use magic to do violence from a distance. But he also knew spells to heal. What if he could do some distance healing on Vangie? Or a protection spell? Also, taking a little of my witch magic away would make me more fae and hence give me better reflexes and even better healing abilities if I came up against Skeleton Guy.
When I went back to the library, the corner of the blanket dragged behind me.
Bryn looked at me. “That’s a strange effect. Almost ghostly. With the fabric trailing behind you as a train, you’re like a phantom princess, or a phantom bride.”
I smiled because that reminded me of the story The Princess Bride, and I loved that movie.
I crossed the room to him with a pen and paper in hand. I wrote a line and held up the paper.
Want to fool around for a good cause?
The corners of his mouth quirked up. “The cause doesn’t have to be good. Or even exist.”
I smiled and wrote to him that I wanted him to take some power and use it to do a protection or healing spell on Vangie. I gave him Vangie’s charm bracelet for a physical link to her.
“From a distance,” Bryn said, his expression clouding. “I can try, sweetheart, but I’m not sure it’ll work.”
Take magic from me so you’ll have a lot of juice. I won’t need it. I’ll be better if I’m more fae anyway. Fae Tammy is tougher than regular Tammy.
He frowned. “I wouldn’t take that much. To leave you pure fae? No.”
I took a step back. “You really hate that part of me, don’t you?” I demanded, knowing he couldn’t hear me. “It’s not a small part that you can pretend doesn’t exist. I’m half faery. And there’s nothing anyone can do to change that. No matter how much you all want to!”
Tears stung my eyes.
“Tamara?”
I grabbed the paper and scrawled a message in big letters.
I expect you to do whatever it takes to help Vangie. By the time I get back here, I’ll be back to normal and you won’t have to deal with the fact that I’m a half-breed.
He scowled. “Don’t refer to yourself that way.”
Why? It’s the truth, I wrote.
He closed his eyes, like he had to focus to not lose his temper. “You know why. That term has a negative connotation.”
According to you, Edie, Momma, and Aunt Mel, being fae has a negative connotation.
I shoved the paper against his chest. He opened his eyes and read it.
His covered his mouth with his hand for a moment and then nodded. When he dropped his hand, he said, “I apologize. I never meant to make you feel that way. I was raised to be wary of the fae. All Association witches and wizards are trained to be, and there’s no denying it makes us prejudiced against true fae. That doesn’t mean that those of us who are mixed race, and I include myself in that group, should be forced into a pos
ition of shame and denial. I really don’t care that you’re half faery. I swear on the stars and everything I hold sacred. The reason I don’t want to drain away your witchcraft and leave you pure fae is that your humanity is an essential part of who you are. The fae side makes you powerful. I know it’s saved your life, and I’m grateful for that. But when the faery emerges without anything to counter her, the things that make you you recede. I lose the witch whose magic matches mine. I lose the woman who loves me. And because I don’t know where she goes during that time, I’m afraid I won’t get her back.”
I pulled the paper away from him gently and wrote to him.
It doesn’t work that way. I’ll always come back to you.
“How do you know?” he whispered.
I just do.
I pushed him toward the couch. He didn’t resist. He sank onto the cushions, looking up. I straddled his thighs, sitting on his lap, and brought the blanket over our heads. Cocooned in the thick cotton with him, I leaned forward, unbuttoning his shirt as I kissed his neck. He exhaled loud enough for me to hear and his lids drifted closed.
When we’d fooled around in the past, his magic had enveloped us and pushed the rest of the world into the distance. This time was different. His magic stayed with him, delicious and just out of my reach. I tried to inhale it but could only taste the spicy tendrils that rode his breath. It made me restless and determined. I’d always been able to share in his power when it combined with mine, but I guessed that now it couldn’t find mine. His magic clung to him like he’d been dipped in caramel. I could taste it but couldn’t drink it in.
I eased his shirt off and bit his collarbone, causing a sharp intake of breath from Bryn. He tightened his grip on my hips and swung us sideways. Tangled in the blanket and a little breathless, we twisted until we were lying lengthwise on the cool leather, mouth to mouth, heartbeat to hammering heartbeat.
The blanket, partially pinned beneath us, was like a snake coiled around us.
“Christ,” he swore, impatiently yanking the blanket’s edge to give himself room to maneuver. I laughed softly. He couldn’t hear me of course, but he felt it. “You’d better not be laughing,” he said, giving my butt a pinch.
“Ow,” I said, and treated him to a warning smack.
With the flick of a button and the snick of a zipper, he freed himself from his pants. The top of the blanket slid down and a bit of light exposed his mussed hair and the hollows above his collarbones as he poised himself above me. His eyes glittered sapphire and I lost myself in them. He really was better-looking than any guy had a right to be. I slid my hand down and curled my fingers around him. He sucked in a breath and then bent his head, finding my mouth and claiming it in a soul-searing kiss.
When our bodies locked together, I felt his magic and our heartbeats throb deep inside me. Neither of us moved, savoring the moment. We hadn’t been this close for so long, and I’d missed him, missed the feeling of his body against mine. My fingers traced his spine as his teeth caught my earlobe and bit down. I gasped and arched.
He laced his fingers through mine and pressed my hands against the armrest above my head. When his hips moved, he whispered Gaelic words in my ear and magic speared me from the inside out, making my body clench tight as a fist. My breath caught, and he nodded with a dark smirk.
“We belong to each other, Tamara.” With his breath silky and hot against my cheek, he said, “You hold my heart hostage, but I can enslave you, too.”
I struggled against him, testing his grip. He didn’t let me escape. The strength of his body and his magic bore down on me, like a summer storm battering a ship.
My body met his, reaching and recoiling, until the intensity was white-hot and almost unbearable, until every part of me belonged to him just as he’d promised. I shattered into climax with a scream he couldn’t hear. He certainly felt it. My body pulled his with me, love and lust and magic flooding me.
Afterward I felt as if I’d melted onto the couch cushions like the wax of spent birthday candles left too long to burn. He released my cramped hands, which dropped behind my head. Limp and panting, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to get revenge on him or give him a present. Maybe both.
He moved his lips along my jaw to find my mouth. “I love you, sweetheart,” he said, kissing my bruised lips lightly before giving my hip a squeeze and adding with a crackle of magic, “I’ll always fight to keep you.”
“Yeah, I love you, too,” I said. “But I’m going to make you pay for being so great in bed. As soon as I can move my legs again.”
He sat up and, with the blanket strewn across his lap, he dressed. I watched him, for once able to stare without being caught. He had good looks that were kind of mesmerizing, but I also liked the way he moved, with a masculine grace that emanated sexiness and hinted at the magic that could extend from his lovely tapered fingers.
I sat up, thinking I’d steal a few more kisses, but then the dryer buzzed. He glanced up with a frown, buttoning his shirt.
I climbed off the couch, draping the blanket around me and dragging it along.
“Tamara, be careful out there tonight.”
I turned and strode back to him. I gave him two quick pinches to promise I would take care and then added a kiss for good measure before I left him with his books.
It was nice to put on clothes that were hot from the dryer, but that cozy feel was short-lived. I dropped the blanket in the guest room and went to the kitchen. I braced myself as I opened the back door. I huffed angrily at the gust of cool air. It was frostily inconvenient to have to run around without a sweatshirt or coat.
I shivered and exited the house, deciding that I wasn’t going to have to worry about being killed by arrows or magic. I would probably die from exposure.
30
I JOGGED THROUGH the woods. Partly because I was in a hurry, partly because when I ran I felt less cold. I half-froze crossing the golf course. There was no protection from the wind.
I trembled and tried to keep my teeth from chattering. I didn’t want Skeleton Guy to find me by sound waves, like a bat or something.
North of the golf course, I entered the woods again, but when I crossed the small clearing it felt like my senses were muffled, almost like my ears were filled with water. I doubled back to the clearing and at a certain spot that I stepped across, my senses went back to normal.
“Witch magic,” a familiar annoying voice said.
I jumped and spun toward a nearby tree. Crux leaned against it. His neck was red and raw where Mercutio had torn it, but the flesh was nearly healed.
“You can’t see me. I’m invisible.”
He grinned. “You’re invisible to humans,” he said.
“And to witches and wizards,” I said, raising my fists in case he planned for us to tussle again. The soreness in my butt and back had gone away. I didn’t want Crux starting it up again with a bite or a thrashing. I widened and planted my feet.
“Witches and wizards are human,” he said, shaking his head at my ready-to-rumble stance.
With him still half-reclining against the tree, I felt ridiculous keeping my fists up, so I dropped them and straightened. “How come I’m not invisible to you?”
“Because you concealed yourself with fae magic, and being fae and stronger than you, I’m not affected by it.”
“I concealed myself with fae magic?” I asked, impressed. That actually made a lot of sense. I’d done a number of spells that were really simple but did powerful things. That wasn’t the way witches’ magic worked. To do a really powerful spell using witch magic, a person had to use a complex, tricky, and perfectly planned spell.
“Do you happen to know how I undo the fae magic that makes me invisible?”
“Sure.”
“Wait,” I said, putting out my hands. “I don’t want to be visible yet.”
“I’ll bet you don’t. You want to wait until you’re sure you’re past the lych.”
“The what?”
“Th
e lych. The skeletal wizard you and your cat ran into earlier tonight.”
“How did you—?”
“I told you to turn back. You should’ve listened.”
“You ordered me to turn back. I don’t take orders from foreign faeries. America’s a free country.”
He rolled his eyes. “Freedom’s an illusion.”
“Since I got away from you and went on my merry way, freedom feels real enough to me,” I said, waving my arms to show how unchained they were.
His smile disappeared. “You escaped, but that doesn’t make you free. It just makes you a particularly slippery fugitive.”
“Hmm. I don’t agree with that, but you’re entitled to your opinion since America’s a, you know, free country,” I said with a defiant quirk of my lips.
He smiled, too.
“So undoing the invisibility spell,” I began. “Just how would I go about that later on?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Here we reach an interesting point in our negotiations. I have something you want. There are some things I want as well.”
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Such as?”
“An end to hostilities. I want you to offer me friendship and hospitality.”
“Hospitality?”
“I want you to invite me to stay at your home.”
My eyebrows shot up. “I live in a house full of witches. It’s got a bluebell plant spell that goes off like a fire alarm when a faery gets near it.”
He shrugged. “I can cut through that magic. The witch who laid the spell isn’t even here to reinforce it.”
“How do you know I’m not the one who put the spell on?”
He laughed.
I folded my arms across my chest, mirroring him. “You know,” I said in a faux sweet tone, “you’re kind of a jerk.”
“That I am,” he said, not taking the least offense at the insult, which was even more proof; only a really big jerk would agree to being one.
I waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t negotiate with jerks. And I definitely wouldn’t invite one to be my houseguest.”
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