by Jianne Carlo
A flame-haired, freckled cherub giggled. Next to her, a dark beauty crooked her finger at the gaggle of females crowded around a kitchen table. Tee joined them, hovering in the doorway. Throngs packed the banquet hall, and a rumble of buzzing conversation circled the room.
In front of the cavernous fireplace stood a man dressed in a long burlap tunic, rope-belted at the waist. A priest. Her insides strummed like a trampoline after a strident workout. Turning her chin a nudge at a time, certain of what she’d see, hoping against hope she was wrong, dread shrouded her entire form as the scene unfolded. Jake, standing beside a striking, voluptuous girl with angelic features, an arm draped around her waist.
Tiny’s words haunted her, “hang the evidence of the consummation.”
Jake stroked the peaches of the girl’s cheek, a lover’s tender gesture. The priest made the sign of the cross and boomed, “Before these witnesses you have sworn your vows to be true to each other as man and wife.”
Caustic sourness rolled across Tee’s tongue. The room spun. Her eyes rolled up in her head. As she sank to the floor, she reached for safety, for the comforting familiarity of her nanna.
Groggy and befuddled, she awoke to the sound of crackling. A roaring fire blazed and danced in a familiar stone fireplace. She was back in her nanna’s cottage, curled into a ball on the burgundy carpet in front of the sofa.
A laid table centered before an empty fire grate held her attention. A half-eaten, brown-crusted round rump of beef and three muffin-shaped Yorkshire puddings drenched in brown gravy decorated an oval porcelain platter. A few leaves of lettuce, a couple of cherry tomatoes, shaved cheese, and a black olive dotted a wooden salad bowl. Bits of fruit and cake clung to a crystal dish.
Their dinner.
Had it all been a dream, or had she surrendered the last remnants of her tenacious hold on reality?
The room spun. It was as if nothing had ever happened—BrodickCastle, Tiny, Alex, Jake.
Jake.
Bile raced to her mouth. She sprinted up the stairs to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach into the white toilet bowl.
Had Jake married sometime in the past?
Another series of convulsive retching commanded her, and she vomited again and again. Tears streamed down her face. If Jake and Alex were stuck in the past, she didn’t know how to get them back.
She’d failed them. Failed Douglas. Failed her parents. Failed the tryouts. Failed at living. Failed at being a witch.
Bankrupt, inconsolable, Tee crawled to the bedroom and passed out, succumbing to complete emotional and physical exhaustion.
Sirens penetrated her dulled mind. She jerked awake, rolled off the bed, and headed to the bathroom. The alarms rang louder as she washed her face and hands and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. A tear-streaked, swollen face substantiated her utter misery. The horrible wailing grew closer. She held on to the sink for support and leaned across the narrow space to peer out the dusty windowpane.
Police cars, six or more, sped up the graveled driveway, screeching to a halt in front of the steps leading to the cottage. Uniformed men dashed up the stairs, and the doorbell ding-donged. She searched the medicine cabinet above the sink, found an aspirin bottle, and shook two pills into her palm.
The persistent buzzing formed a nagging background noise as she filled a glass with water and swallowed the tablets with the icy liquid.
Life’s relentless march when she needed it most to halt. Shoulder slumping, back hunched, Tee trudged down the stairs, each one a descent into an abyss of despair.
Where was Jake now? Would she ever see him again?
Numbed, resigned, she opened the front door.
“Mrs. Trent?”
Flood.
Figured.
What she deserved.
What she expected.
The other, younger, man stood behind him.
“Inspectors.” She stepped backwards. “Come in.”
“Actually, Mrs. Trent you need to accompany us.” This from the nicer one.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To Scotland Yard headquarters in London.”
“I see.” She turned around. “Let me get my coat.”
“We’ll get it for you.” Detective Flood grasped her arm. “Get it.” The man jerked his head at the wooden coat stand. “You have a habit of suddenly disappearing, and it’s not happening on my watch.”
They conducted the four-hour journey in complete silence. She could’ve disappeared again, but that meant delaying the inevitable confrontation with the authorities, Tricia, Dad. Each passing mile magnified her imagined arrest, the scandal, her mother’s icy disapproval. Slow, measured rage seeped in halfway to London.
Fury rankled every pore. Not only did her mother not love her, she didn’t like her. Every second of her life to this point, Tee had lived a lie, assumed a mantle someone else wanted her to wear. Losing Jake cleared the layers of disguise. She was a witch.
Crossroads.
She could strive for the unattainable, Tricia’s approval, and deny her inherent powers.
Or embrace he conjuring abilities, find the reason she had them in the first place. Use them to find Jake, rescue him.
Before her marriage, before Jake, she’d never thought she had options. She did.
Dandelion clocks surfaced, and Tee cringed. Then she thought about the two jackets, the fries and shakes for Tiny, her escape from the dungeon, and a certain light-headedness set in. She could do this. Make it work.
On her own.
For too long she’d relied on the strength of others, Dee, Douglas.
Her mother’s reaction to her powers colored everything she did from the first time she realized the woman was ashamed of her, embarrassed by her. She remembered being a shy four-year-old, awkward around other children and uncomfortable with adults. On her first day at Montessori school, excited and wanting the others to like her, she’d conjured up treat after treat, cakes, candy, even a white pony with a pink ribbon in her mane.
They sent her home, permanently.
Confused, hurting, insecure, she turned to her mother for comfort. Instead of soothing words, hugs, and kisses, Tricia had said, “Why can’t you be normal? A lady does not draw attention to herself. You need to learn to control your urges, Tallulah, and behave as expected.”
Those words surfaced time after time during her childhood. When she discovered riding and horses, it became her escape, an outlet for her competitive spirit. Being different and excelling in the equestrian arena meant rewards, acclaim, not punishment and rebukes. For so long, she’d yearned to be just like everyone else—normal—and that required repudiating her talents, hoping if she didn’t use them, they’d disappear. Conjuring was an intrinsic part of her, and she wasn’t whole without it.
Damn it, being different did not mean being inferior.
The time had come to learn how to control her special abilities. Tee felt as if she’d crossed some sort of threshold, stood on the edge of a precipice.
She was ready to accept her powers and use them when necessary.
Sitting up and straightening her shoulders, confident and certain of her direction, she smiled.
All along, she’d rejected the surety she felt with Jake, the instinctive knowledge she’d met a kindred spirit, her mate. Leftover insecurity from Tony had clouded her instincts, fueled doubts. From the start, she knew Jake equaled danger to her equilibrium, her false front.
Somewhere, somehow, her subconscious accepted him, and it was time to admit she wanted to be with him, forever. She’d fallen in love with him, and she wasn’t afraid to jump off the cliff, not anymore. Even if it ended badly, even if it proved painful, she longed to experience love, let him into her deepest recesses, know him in the same way. Exultation rang in her veins, and a feverish excitement seized a hold of her.
Her mind centered on Jake, and on occasion, Alex, she never noticed the lush English countryside passing by or the persistent drumming
of rain on the SUV’s rooftop. Within the last few weeks, she’d experienced more of life than in her first twenty-six years. Tony’s attempt on her life had forced an instinctive retreat, a roll-into-a-tight-ball, squeeze-your-eyes-shut, and nothing-will-hurt-you-again reaction.
Damn it, it had been her reaction all her life. Battered by being different, she became a go-with-the-flow child, then the same kind of adult. That was before her wedding night. No longer would she wait for things to happen. No, from this moment on, she would instigate the events and take charge of her life.
Handling Scotland Yard became her first priority, finding a way to rescue Jake the second. And Alex, she amended. She would extricate herself from this situation without involving her father and then return and get Jake and Alex. Resolved, she sifted through scenarios and reasonable explanations for the rest of the journey.
They arrived at a white multi-storied building in the heart of London. The car stopped in the center of the two-lane road, blocking traffic, and impatient horns blasted from the vehicles behind them. Flood and another inspector each took one of her arms as she exited from the automobile.
“Must you?” She glanced at their hands on her arms.
“You have a habit of disappearing, Mrs. Trent.”
“Believe me, if I wanted to vanish, your arms wouldn’t prevent it.” Tee spoke through gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Trent.” The other man lifted a shoulder. “It’s protocol.”
The two men escorted her to a long, narrow, windowless room.
“Can I have a room with a view?” she demanded, knowing it would never happen, but she wanted to press their buttons, unnerve them.
“What?” Flood did an about-face. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. Can I have a room with a view?”
“No.” The man’s florid complexion darkened, and pure venom flashed from piggy mud-colored eyes. “Who do you think you are, the frigging Queen?”
As soon as the two men left the room, she conjured up a pot of Earl Grey tea, cream, and a china sugar bowl. She sipped on the fragrant brew and the warm liquid running over her tongue calmed nerves eager to act on her newfound resolution.
When the Scotland Yard representatives returned, she hid her mouth with the teacup and considered their faces, suppressing a wild beam. Both men stared at her, jaws dropped.
Curled up on an oversized upholstered chaise lounge with her feet tucked under a gold throw, she knew she looked the picture of relaxed elegance, not a care in the world. Leaning forward, Tee poured more tea into her cup from a silver tray on a low oval table.
She clamped her lips together to stifle the exultant fit of giggles threatening to erupt. Both men followed her movements as she took a sip of the steaming liquid, their eyes bulging. She almost choked on repressed laughter.
“Would either of you gentlemen like a cup?” she offered, amusement fueling her gleeful, wicked enjoyment of their bewilderment.
Angry red flushes flashed across Flood’s slack jowls. His mouth dropped open and shut once, twice, three times. He looked like a fish underwater. She wanted to crow, but settled for adding a dash of cream to the liquid in her teacup.
An argument took place between the two men. Furious whispers sounded throughout the room. Tee heard the men’s urgent murmurs.
“No, you can’t do that, Flood. It goes against the rules.”
“Frig the rules. I say we put her in a cell.”
“You’re wrong. I don’t think she’s guilty. For Christ’s sake, look at her face. The woman is not worried, not the slightest bit.”
“You’re a fool. That woman is a bitch.”
A cell phone jingled, and the younger man flipped the earpiece open.
“What? Where is he?” he growled into the mouthpiece. Seconds later, he spoke to Flood. “Her father’s a friend of the head’s, and he has diplomatic immunity. He’s demanding to see her.”
“Frig it. The woman should be locked up.” Flood slapped his hand against the counter.
“Tough, the head says I have to escort him up.”
The younger man cleared his throat and turned to face Tee.
“Mrs. Trent?”
“Yes.”
“Your father’s here.”
Her pulse accelerated. Henry had come. Flood’s menacing stare would have unnerved her before, but not anymore. With an air of finishing school nonchalance, she busied herself pouring another cup of tea and took a sip of the liquid.
Flood scowled at her and straddled the entrance to the room, more out than in. He pulled out his cell phone and edged into the hallway, conducting a heated conversation, she could not hear. Impish mischief bedeviled her brain, and she conjured up another surprise for the nasty man.
The elevator dinged, and two men emerged from its depths.
Henry’s face appeared in the doorway. Moisture pooled at the corners of Tee eyes, and a grateful lump of joy clogged her throat as her father walked across the narrow room.
“Leave us.” Henry waved a hand at the men in the doorway. “Tee, are you okay, honey?”
“Mother said you couldn’t support me,” she blurted. “I don’t want to ruin your career.”
“As if you could, honey.” Henry stroked her cheek. “Do you think I’d put anything above you? I love you. You’re my daughter. I want your happiness, nothing else.”
Henry edged onto the chair.
Tee collapsed against his chest.
“What’s wrong, honey?” He wiped her tears with his handkerchief. “I’ve cleared you of all charges. Tony’s actions can’t hurt you anymore.” He studied her face. “It’s Jake, isn’t it?”
Startled, her eyes flew to his. “How did you know?”
“The inspectors’ superior, my old friend Arthur Flood—you remember him. He’s visited us on and off over the years. He briefed me on all that’s happened.” He cleared his throat. “Apparently you stayed in Jake’s suite at Claridge’s for a couple of days. I hadn’t realized you two were dating.”
Her sobs broke out anew. “Dad, I don’t know what to do.” She stared at her father. “Things seem so confusing. I’m not sure I can trust anyone anymore, even Jake.”
“I see.” He lifted her chin with his finger. “Your mother and I realized that something drastic happened between you and Tony. Is that part of the reason you don’t think you can trust Jake?”
Her palms grew damp. “Yes. Dad, I need to tell you the truth about Tony and me. It isn’t pleasant, and I think it’s the reason behind these charges.”
She served tea for both of them, more as part of a calming ritual than a necessity, and launched into the details. Her father’s features grew somber and tight, his mouth flattening as she finished and waited for his reaction.
He took the teacup out of her hands and drew her against his chest. “Oh, my darling girl, what a nightmare. I wish you’d come to us. Honey, I’m not a frail old man. I could have protected you. I want you to promise to come to me in the future. I have powerful contacts. I can keep you safe.”
She read the truth in his faded brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Dad, I should have had more faith in you. I realize that now. I think the reason I didn’t is because you and Mother have always refused to believe I was different. Dad, I’m not like normal people.”
“Are you referring to your special abilities, honey?”
“Special abilities?” Her voice wavered.
“Do you remember your first day at Montessori school?” The leathery skin around his eyes crinkled, and an endearing smile played about his mouth. “And your special friend?”
“Nicker, the fairy only I could see?”
Henry nodded.
“The chocolates and the cakes?”
“That was part of it, Daughter. You admitted to wishing for the candies. Your teacher said she left the schoolroom, and the tables were empty. When she returned two minutes later, they were laden with every chocolate and cupcake imaginable. You boasted about wishing for them.�
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Her blood ran cold. “I don’t remember you being there.”
“I wasn’t, honey. Your mother called me from the school when they spotted you on the roof.”
“Oh, the roof, I forgot about that part.” Her cheeks grew hot.
“You said you wanted to see Santa’s sleigh.”
“I wanted to see if Rudolph’s nose glowed,” she confessed.
“A four-year-old can’t climb two stories to a roof. It’s physically impossible. I decided then to keep a close eye on you.”
“You never said anything. Why?”
“Remember, right after that, we went to Barbados for Christmas, and you met Desdemona for the first time. And I met Douglas Graham.”
“Douglas told you.” She guessed.
“Yes, he also informed me about Desdemona and the other seven of you. He had all of your futures mapped out. Douglas said you nine were his mission in life, that it was his sole duty to protect and educate you in your special abilities.”
“I don’t understand. If you’ve known all along, why send me away to boarding school?” Her eyes misted at the memory of leaving home at six years of age.
“Douglas said that particular boarding school would be a haven for you. He knew several of the teachers on staff, and he told me they would cater to your special needs. You were happy there, weren’t you?”
She nodded. “We all were, but why didn’t you tell me you knew about my powers, um, special abilities, before now?”
“Douglas advised me not to speak of it. He said you had to learn to cope with, as he put it, living in the mortal world.” Henry kissed her cheek. “I’ve often regretted listening to him.”
“Oh.” She laid her head against her father’s strong shoulder. “Why didn’t you, not listen, I mean?”
“You blossomed at the boarding school, and then you found riding. You seemed happy enough. And then Tony came along. I was tempted to speak to you then, but Douglas advised me not to.”
“Why? What were you going to speak to me about?”
“I had reservations about Tony. Fate was the only reason Douglas offered for me not interfering. But we digress, Daughter. Did you tell Jake the truth? Does he know of your special abilities?”