Sex and the Psychic Witch

by Annette Blair

  “How did you know? Weird, isn’t it?”

  Storm shook her head with regret. “Not if you’ve fallen in love with him.”

  “You’re nuts.”

  “Well, I am, but I also see the present. You’re in love with the tight-assed technocrat. Not only that, you’re pretty fond of his off-with-your-head castle, and you adore his daughter and grandson.”

  “A grandfather? I’m in love with a doddering old grandfather.”

  Morgan chuckled and bent down in front of her with a glass of something the color of King’s eyes.

  She sniffed it. “I hope this is very strong tea.”

  “Whiskey. Go ahead. Do you good.”

  She sipped it, and while she did, she thought about the way she drank King in when his whiskey eyes gazed into hers.

  Chapter Forty-two

  AS his helicopter rose off the island, King tried to ignore the disappointed look on Reggie’s face. He especially tried to ignore Jake’s tears, though that was difficult, because that boy could wail louder than Gussie. “I wanna be a dragon,” he cried. “I gotta beat the drum.”

  “I’ll buy you a dragon suit and a drum in Boston.”

  “No. I want my dragon suit. Dessie made it for me.”

  Jake’s little bottom lip made for a really good pout, King thought, wishing the boy’s sadness didn’t tear him up inside. “How about a drum?”

  “No.”

  “Dad, there are some things you can’t buy. Happiness and the joy of family celebrations are two of them.”

  “Those witches are not your family.”

  “We got nisheeated!” Jake shouted.

  “What’d he say?”

  “They initiated us into their family when we stayed with them in Salem. Harmony, Destiny, and Storm—even Vickie and Rory, though you haven’t met them, yet—are all part of our family.”

  “Yeah,” Jake said. “And I wanna hold the blue balloons.”

  “Is this the downside of parenthood?” King asked Reggie.

  “What? A crying child? Or making stupid decisions based on your own fears?”

  “Ouch! Nice talk.” King did a double take his daughter’s way.

  “Don’t think I can’t stand up for myself,” she said. “I wouldn’t have survived on the streets or found you if I couldn’t.”

  “You’ve learned a lot from Harmony, too.” He eyed his daughter’s irreverent T-shirt. “Who Are You and Why?” he asked, reading it.

  Reggie folded her arms and raised her chin. “I could ask you the same question.”

  What could he say to that? “I like Harmony,” an understatement he wouldn’t explore, “but her magick doesn’t—”

  “Fit in with your belief system?” Reggie asked. “What do you believe in, Dad? I mean do you believe in a higher power?”

  “Like the electric company?” He shrugged. “I guess I never thought about it. At military school I went to services because I had to.”

  “Which denomination?”

  “Whichever one had the shortest service. It changed, depending on the preacher/priest/rabbi/monk of the semester.”

  “Do you know how I got through my year on the road?”

  “No,” King said turning to her, “but I’d like to.”

  “You’re gonna think this is lame, but my favorite TV show when I left home was Joan of Arcadia . And, well, I pretended I was her, doing what God wanted me to do—take care of my son and find you—no matter how hard it got sometimes.”

  “You did an excellent job. Your son’s bright and well-mannered.”

  “That’s him, not me. I put him in a day care preschool in Jersey for a couple of months, and they said he tested like a four and a half to a five-year-old. I think somewhere along the line, he picked up on my struggle, and he tried to make it easier for me, or God tried, and Jake helped.” Reggie shrugged.

  “The point is,” she said turning back to him a minute later, “if I hadn’t believed in something greater than myself, I couldn’t have done it. So don’t get all bent out of shape at Harmony’s belief system. At least she has one. She’s a good person, Dad. They all are. They took me in so you could go to jail in California.”

  “Low blow.”

  “I’m feeling low.”

  Jake had fallen asleep by then, a temporary quiet King appreciated. Reggie turned away to look out her window, though it was too dark to see anything but lights.

  Who was he? she’d asked. A man who’d been making mad, passionate love to—no, having sex with—a woman he’d just met. A woman who claimed to be a psychic witch. But since she’d practically read his mind from the first, he figured he might have to give her the psychic part.

  What did he believe in?

  He believed . . . he wanted his birthright, that blasted haunted castle, as much as his daughter did, though he’d been afraid to admit it until Harmony made him hope she could save it from Gussie—or whatever caused the wail, and accidents, and arguing—okay, so maybe it was Gussie. Hell, Jake had seen her.

  How could he fault Reggie and Jake for falling for Harmony right off, when he’d done the same?

  Well, he hadn’t fallen for her, precisely. He’d been attracted, and a little in lust, maybe. A lot in lust. He wanted to see her when he opened his eyes mornings, hold her as he fell asleep at night. He wanted to tell her everything that happened at the end of the day.

  Like now, he wanted to tell her about Jake crying to be a dragon, and about his grandson’s word for initiated .

  What would life be like if he never saw Harmony again?

  King couldn’t imagine a lonelier existence . . . so he must be fond of her. He’d never really be lonely with Jake and Reggie around, though Reggie might get married someday, and Jake would go to school, and away to college. Hmm. Maybe he would be lonely.

  He loved Harmony for taking Reggie and Jake under her wing. And he adored her for saving their lives.

  He almost had the sense that she’d saved his life, but that was more nonsense.

  King didn’t remember landing the chopper, but since Ed was opening the door to his limo, he figured he must have. “My apartment, Ed,” he told his driver, who got them efficiently out of Beverly and on the highway to Boston.

  “After you drop off my Dad,” Reggie said leaning forward. “Will you take me and my son back to Salem, please?”

  “Get off at the nearest exit, Ed,” King said, “and find a place to pull over.”

  “I’m gonna be a dragon, that’s me,” Jake sang. “I’m gonna beat on a drum, that’s neat. I’m gonna hold a balloon, that’s blue.”

  “You think your kid’s gonna take up mind reading or song writing when he grows up?” King asked his daughter.

  “He can be anything he wants.” Reggie leaned close to whisper in his ear. “Jake can even be a dense, tight-assed technocrat.”

  King reared back.

  “What’s a tekkacrat?”

  “You see what you did?” King said, indicating his grandson in the car seat facing them.

  Reggie laughed. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and he’s got your genes written all over him.”

  “So do you.” But that didn’t make King happy at the moment, because the only gene that came to mind was the stubborn one. “Damn it, Regg!”

  “Damn it, Regg!”

  “Jake, cut that out. Ed, you wanna take us back to the Beverly Airport and call ahead so my chopper’s ready?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Reggie threw her arms around him. “I love you, Daddy.”

  “Me, too, kitten,” he said, appalled that he couldn’t even use the word love with his family. What was wrong with him?

  Before long, they were back at the Beverly Airport. “We won’t need you anymore tonight, Ed. Thanks.”

  King got out of the limo. “Will every dense Paxton in this car please follow me?” If he had one shot at giving these two the home they deserved, the
n Harmony and her midsummer madness seemed to be his only hope.

  Okay, so it might be his one shot, too. Who knew?

  When the island came into sight, King shivered, deep down, as if he were foolishly happy to be back.

  “Now, when we land, Dad,” Reggie cautioned. “You’re gonna keep an open mind, right? Promise you will. And loosen up, will you? Stop being such a tight—”

  “Regg!”

  “I’m gonna be a dragon, that’s me.”

  “Stop being dense and unyielding,” Reggie said, correcting herself. She saw the beach and whooped.

  “Jake, there’s no fire, yet. We got back in time. You can be a dragon with a drum!”

  “Yay, Grampa!”

  King chuckled. “Yay, Jake!” He landed and took Jake from his seat.

  “Here comes Honey,” Jake whispered in his ear, as if he understood there was friction between them.

  “Be nice,” his grandson added.

  “Keep it low on the grouch meter, Dad,” Reggie said. “Harmony’s headed this way.”

  “Thanks, but your son already gave me my orders,” King snapped, and Reggie chuckled.

  Harmony looked like a wounded animal, afraid to trust. He’d never seen her shut down like this. He knew, because he . . . he’d done it to her, the way he’d done it to himself. Damn, he didn’t like grasping that fine point. He wanted to blame her for helping him grasp it, which pretty much meant that he still had

  the mentality of a two-year-old. Why not cry and sing his woes? Maybe Jake would teach him how. And maybe Reggie would teach him to grow up.

  Harmony ran to meet them, and King’s heart lifted, but she passed him to welcome Reggie and Jake.

  The three of them walked around him and passed him by without a word, Harmony carrying Jake, who was chattering away, happy as a clam.

  King leaned more heavily on his cane and shoved his other hand in his pocket to follow them home—to the castle. He stopped to look up at the monster. When had he stopped thinking of it as an albatross and started thinking of it as home?

  By the time he got inside, Jake was already dressed like a dragon. Cute little barefooted green thing.

  “If he isn’t the most adorable midsummer dragon I’ve ever seen,” Harmony said, “I’ll eat—”

  “Your words,” Destiny said. “You’ve never seen a midsummer dragon, like we’ve never been able to celebrate with a bonfire.”

  Harmony shrugged. “I forgot.” Her feet bare, her toe ring glistening, and her black robe flowing around her, she handed everybody a candle, except for Jake. To his grandson, she gave the drum, which Jake started drumming immediately, off beat and nonstop.

  “Something tells me you’re gonna be sorry,” Reggie yelled over the din.

  “Nah.” Harmony grinned. “This is a fun celebration. That’s the point. Have fun. Everybody get in line, and Destiny will put a wreath on your head. Flowers for the ladies and greenery for the gentlemen. I’ll light your candles, then we’ll parade out to our soon-to-be-glorious midsummer bonfire.”

  “Why isn’t anyone wearing shoes?” King asked.

  “Because we’re not uptight like you,” Storm answered.

  Destiny chuckled. “We’re communing with the elements of nature tonight—earth, air, fire, and water.

  Communing works better without clothes. I should think you’d know that.”

  King swore inwardly and pulled off his shoes.

  When all the candles were lit, Harmony hooked a duffel bag over her shoulder, lit her candle on Destiny’s, and took Jake by the hand. “I’ll chant, and Jake will drum, and everybody, follow us.”

  She led them in a serpentine parade through the kitchen and out the door, but before they cleared the castle’s shadow, King’s bare feet were killing him, plus he felt like an ass, because Morgan and Aiden were enjoying themselves.

  So why couldn’t he loosen up and enjoy himself?

  Because, if the ritual worked, Harmony would leave? Hell no.

  He wanted her to go.

  Of course he did.

  Chapter Forty-three

  HARMONY’S voice mesmerized King as her chant rose like a prayer:

  “Oak and Holly vie for rule

  Seasons change so fight your duel.

  Fall will come, embrace the sight

  From shades of green to colors bright.”

  Harmony stopped by the unlit bonfire to wait. Someone had set it up like a Boy Scout, kindling perfectly placed. Morgan, King figured.

  “This is it,” Harmony said. “The big lighting. I’ll sing a chant, and when I end it with ‘torches to wood,’

  touch your candles to the kindling and step back. Everybody ready? Good.” She stood Jake to the side away from the pyre and began to chant.

  “Dragon of chaos, eager and sprite,

  Drum to summer’s endless light.

  Spark fire and wondrous might

  Welcome a new twelve month right.

  Torches to wood; make it bright!”

  Jake laughed louder than he beat the drum. Before long, the fire cracked and snapped, smoke wafting around them. “Blow out your candles,” Harmony said, “and give them to Storm.” She looked around, not meeting his eyes, and made sure the candles were snuffed and put aside so no one could get burned.

  “Jake,” she said, bending to him, “you can put your drum down and dance with us, or you can keep drumming.”

  “I gotta drum.”

  “Then drum you will. Everybody else clasp hands and do what I do. This is like playing ring around the rosy with a twist of your hips.”

  King stood to the side and watched, because his ankle wouldn’t allow him to dance.

  Following Harmony’s undulating motion—quite the turn-on—everyone spiraled around the burning pyre, and damned if King didn’t enjoy watching them. Aiden looked like a goose, and Storm tripped over her own feet and pulled down Morgan the Miserable, who was enjoying himself.

  Their hilarity was contagious, but the more pleasure they took in the festivities, the louder Gussie wailed.

  Harmony stopped dancing and looked up at the castle. “The fire needs feeding. I have just the fuel.

  Come and get it.”

  “What’s this?” King asked when she handed him a picture frame.

  “One of Gussie’s empty ‘negative’ picture frames.” Harmony handed out a dresser set, buttonhook, gloves, and scarves, and more frames. Taking her turn last, she took out the headless doll that had been in the toy room doll carriage, chanted something to herself, and tossed it in.

  The fire flared to life, and Gussie quieted.

  Harmony gave them each a paper and pencil. “Write what you wish to receive from our hostess the sun on the eve of her special day. I suggest that you write ‘Peace for Paxton Castle.’ ”

  King figured everybody wrote that, so he wrote, “I want Harmony . . .” and stopped. He wanted Harmony to understand him, and like him anyway, sleep with him, live with him. He wanted her to bring peace to the castle, but he wanted her to stay when she did. He wanted so much from her, he couldn’t decide which was most important, so he left, “I want Harmony . . .” and hoped the sun would pick wisely from his many choices, because he couldn’t.

  After all the paper wishes had been thrown on the fire, Harmony and her sisters started singing “Ring of Fire,” people joining in, clasping hands, and walking around the fire, while Jake’s drumbeats slowed with the movement.

  The lyrics felt personal. King wanted to dance, to drop his cane and join them, but he couldn’t. “Bound by fire and desire,” all he could do was watch Harmony sway to the music.

  They all seemed to stop moving at the same time, perhaps all bound by desire, except for Reggie, who was too young, yet she lifted her child in her arms, nonetheless. She came and kissed his cheek. “Night, Dad. And thanks. See you at dawn.”

  “Are you going to be all right inside with Gussie?”


  “As long I have Jake, I’m safe. Gussie adores him.”

  King watched his baby girl walk into the dark, unforgiving night toward a haunted castle to put her baby to bed. She’d walked alone through many a dark and unforgiving night. Maybe that’s where she got her strength.

  Aiden danced alone like a doofus. “I don’t wanna stop partying yet. This is fun. What’s next on the agenda?”

  Storm sat in the sand and pulled him down. “Sit with me and appreciate the majesty of the universe.”

  Destiny sat and wrapped her arms around her knees to watch the fire, and like a moth to a flame, Morgan sat beside her and watched her.

  King saw Harmony opening a cooler to take out cheese, crackers, a bowl of fresh mixed berries, and small bottles with homemade labels of dandelion wine. She offered food and drink to everyone but him.

  He didn’t know what to say.

  Yes, he did. “Harmony, I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t hear him, or she was ignoring him.

  “Harmony,” he said louder. “I acted like an ass today, and I’m sorry.”

  She took a half turn his way. “I understand. You are, by nature, an ass.”

  Chapter Forty-four

  HARMONY couldn’t believe that the mighty King had apologized.

  “I am an ass for hurting you. I know that.”

  When Morgan and Aiden enthusiastically agreed, King laughed with them . . . at himself, which also surprised her.

  Then King put an arm around her and drew her to the fire, though she walked slow to match his pace.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to be with him. If Morgan, Aiden, and her sisters weren’t there, she’d say no. She would. “I didn’t think you’d make it through the procession, never mind the entire celebration,”

  she said, as he pulled her down beside him.

  “Neither did I. My feet are killing me after stepping on all those rocks.”