“Who can think around those warrior pheromones he’s giving off,” she said dramatically, fanning herself with a leaflet.
“God, he smelled good,” a petite brunette said breathlessly. “But that’s as close as I’d like to get.” The other two looked surprised. “He’s scary,” she defended. “Did you see that scar on his jaw?”
The blond laughed. “I like mine scary. I’m sure I could wrap him around my pinky,” she taunted, holding up the digit.
Kat slid against the wall behind an exquisite suit of armor. She sucked in hard so as not to knock over the relic. Kat hedged along the room through the archway. Her gaze scanned the displays. Most of the items were behind glass. Kat rubbed her arm absently as she studied the beautifully savage swords along one wall. Her hand hovered near a glimmering blade. It sang to her, as she studied the finely wrought edge.
Who once held you? Loved you? Whose life did you save, and how many lives did you take? She took a small pace backwards and grazed a man standing there. She jumped silently and side-stepped away.
Roger Hamilton, the loan officer at the bank, her enemy. She nearly snarled, but kept quiet while she shot silent daggers. He glanced around and rubbed the spot she’d touched. Dismissing the contact, he swilled some wine and loosened his necktie. Could he feel her hatred of him? One minute he was threatening to take away her children, the next minute he was looking down her blouse.
Kat rubbed again at her arm and glanced down at the warmth. It was her birthmark, the one shaped so strangely, like a dragonfly. For years she’d tried to envision it as a butterfly since they followed her everywhere. And right now it tingled. Why?
Kat crossed away from Roger. As she moved, she sensed something, like the hum of harmonic bells vibrating, similar to her magic. Kat felt the power draw and direct her toward the center of the hall.
There on a bed of white velvet sat the source. A necklace. Rubies and black onyx were surrounded by diamonds that caught the light as they alternated along the thick gold chain. In the center sat a large onyx surrounded by rubies. But the most interesting part of the necklace was the medallion affixed to the top of the center onyx. Etched in the center of the medallion was a dragonfly. Kat watched it closely and the wings flexed. She blinked and stooped, bringing her gaze almost level. No alarms sounded, no barrier stopped her. The dragonfly’s wings shuddered as if coming to life. Kat rubbed her arm where the birthmark tingled.
“There’s magic in you,” she whispered. As if denying the statement, the image settled back down into the etching. Definitely magic, and somehow linked to her. Maybe it could help her figure out who she was, what she was. “Do you know my last name?” she whispered, but the image remained within the confines of the metal. She pinched her lips tight and frowned at it. The dragonfly called to her. She made the sign of the cross and stamped down the guilt.
Kat straightened up and glanced around. She needed a distraction. She walked back to the swords against the wall where battle pikes leaned in a corner like a huge set of pick-up sticks. Roger walked past. And you will do.
Toren stood at the back of the room. He took a drink of glistening fresh water, enjoying the clear unfettered taste. Can’t find this back home. He looked at the people. Small clusters moved amongst his pieces, chatting more about each other than the history before them. The socially elite were easy to pick out with their guarded smiles and judgmental whispers. He already had three phone numbers from eager ladies bored with their safe lives. The elite liked intrigue here as much as at court.
He’d first noticed the woman in white when she slid along the archway door to avoid people exiting. She wore a tight-fitting white suit, came alone, and spoke to no one. Graceful movements stood out as much as her odd behavior. She studied the necklace in the center of the room. She’d bent over, so he had a perfect view of an exquisitely rounded ass. She stood and glanced around. Toren’s gaze roamed her curvaceous figure in the strange clothing. Lean muscles accentuated the length of her legs. He shook his head.
At home I’d have to marry her to see so much. His gaze traveled to the soft flare of her hips. Her light brown hair had streaks of red and gold, caught up in some fastener. If she let it down, it would fall past her shoulders. The lass crouched down again so that her nose nearly touched the dragonfly.
Toren glanced at his guard near the archway. The man looked straight past the woman. Toren frowned. His manager had insisted on paid guards, though Toren was certain he could do a better job. Toren looked back to the curious woman as she studied the necklace. Perhaps she’d like to try it on.
He stepped down, but stopped when she turned. Her eyes were a lovely blue and framed by dark lashes. Nose perfect, cheek bones high. The skin across her left cheek looked as soft as satin. It was the other cheek that caught him off guard. Puckered skin ran from the hairline at her temple, across her right cheek nearly down to the soft point of her chin. It was a bad burn. Was this why she skirted around the others? Did people here mock her?
Anger filled Toren’s chest, for her beauty and grace eclipsed the scar. She strode across to one corner. She must run or swim. His eyes lingered on her full breasts caught tight in the bodice. One curl teased full, kissable lips. His hand tightened around the cold glass. “Mine,” he said roughly. The word had tumbled up and out without conscious thought. “Mo bhean, my woman.”
Once again Toren took a step toward her. “What in bloody hell are ye up to?” Toren watched the woman pick up a pike. His glance at the guard told him that the man was useless. Toren watched the woman weave deliberately around several people. No one questioned or even acknowledged her as she walked. Even if she weren’t dressed in clinging white fabric and carrying a deadly pike, the men in the hall should be drawn to her lushness. Toren shook his head, wondering if he’d ever understand moderns.
The woman carried the weapon with purpose. Toren didn’t move.
She glared at the man near her and seemed to pursue him.
Should he intercede? Toren set his glass down and crossed arms over his chest. He quirked one eyebrow. Perhaps ignoring a wench like that should be a crime. He grinned and waited to see what would unfold. This was the most interesting exhibit he’d had in the last three years.
The woman glided around people and still no one raised their eyes. It was as if she invoked some spell to turn them away.
Was magic involved? Toren frowned. His gaze flickered to the group filing in. When he glanced back, the woman had lowered the pike in front of the man’s shins.
“Bloody hell,” Toren swore as the man tripped over the staff. Red wine flew through the air. The woman hefted the pike up high with both hands and stabbed its blade down into the floor.
“Mac an donais!” he swore and moved his hand, but he only grasped air and expensive trews. “Abhidse!” He’d stopped wearing a sword when it caused more trouble than it was worth in this land.
The woman released her hold on the pike, and the whole room suddenly saw it. Chaos broke out. The screams brought curious onlookers. A sea of people surged toward the impaled floorboards.
“It just appeared there!” a woman screamed.
“Ghosts?” one elderly man yelled, pivoting around with wild eyes.
“Demons!” one woman shrieked.
The two guards shoved through the mass. “Move out of the way!”
Toren’s height allowed him to see above the tangle. He pulled his gaze from the scene to see the woman grab the dragonfly necklace.
“Nay!” he yelled above everyone. “Stad! Stop!”
The woman turned and their eyes locked. Surprise and horror crossed her face.
“Stop, ye in white!” His roar caused her to jump.
She turned and ran straight for the emergency exit. The alarm shrieked to life, adding to the din.
Toren grabbed a thirteenth-century short sword. “Caraich! Move!”
People screamed when he jumped down with the sword. It took him a full minute to press, dodge, and threaten his way th
rough the crowd without injuring anyone. One of the guards met him at the back door.
“Ye dinna even see her take it,” he yelled as he rammed the door. “It was a distraction.” Toren growled low in his throat, a primal fury. How could he have been so unprepared for the attack? Bloody hell, he’d just stood there watching!
“Take what?” the confused guard asked, and it took all the control Toren had to stop him from running the overstuffed, lazy man through with the ancient sword.
Toren rushed toward the lake front. The wet grass showed her trail. The weight of the sword and the churning of the damp ground reminded him of his life along Loch Melfort. His gaze scanned the front lawn that sloped down to the water.
“Mac an donais! She’s jumped in the loch.” He dropped the sword and dove out into Lake Jordan. The murk of the water made it impossible to see. He swam out, kicking off his shoes, but already knew it was useless. He surfaced. He stood motionless, breathing, waiting for her to bob up. She’d looked fit. She wouldn’t run into a lake if she couldn’t swim. His guards stood on the shore, Pinterson hopped up and down on the rear deck. Toren could see the bus that had brought the senior citizens pulling away.
He ran a hand down his sopping face. “Sod it.”
Somehow she’d gotten away with the one thing that he could use to bargain for his life back. He’d let his guard down and a mere lass had stolen it.
He scanned out over the still water. No ripple gave her away. “I will find ye,” he swore and trudged back to shore.
****
Kat stripped off the mud-stained white suit as the hot water from the showerhead cascaded down her body. June was hot, but the lake water had felt cold. The man had actually tracked her into the water. She’d heard his curses, felt his wrath. He’d wanted her, wanted the necklace. As the shower washed away bits of lake debris, she examined the ancient piece. Gems sparkled in the light, but it was the medallion that hummed with power. Kat ran a thumb over the etching, its wings, its slender body.
“Dragonfly.” She mouthed the word. “What are you?”
It didn’t change, although her birthmark tingled. The necklace looked familiar, like it belonged in some ancient portrait. Kat had studied many portraits, but she didn’t remember any with a dragonfly. The museum plaque had said it was found in western Scotland in a circle of stones.
Kat set the necklace on the side of the tub and soaped up a scrubby sponge. Lake water was not easy to breathe, and it left a terrible taste in her mouth. Kat let the hot water flood her mouth again. Fear had driven her to swim faster than usual, as if the devil chased. She shivered under the cascade.
Toren MacCallum had seen her. How? No one else had. Had he seen her before she touched the necklace? Maybe the necklace’s magic negated her own magic. Kat groaned. Had Roger seen? Kat was surprised the cops weren’t already knocking down the bathroom door.
She looked up toward the ceiling. “I promise, God, I won’t steal anymore unless it’s absolutely necessary to keep my kids together and well cared for. I swear.” She’d taken the necklace because it called to her, not because she thought she’d sell it. Kat rubbed the medallion between slippery fingers. It yanked her like the pull she’d felt since childhood, a gentle tug eastward.
When the man roared and his gaze locked on her, the adrenaline, already surging, spiked. It was fight or flight, and she wouldn’t survive a fight with the man. His eyes had sparked with cold fury, as if she were sprinting away with something critical to life.
She closed her eyes, remembering. His broad shoulders, hands fisted, jaw rock hard. He was well over six feet tall and broad enough to worry Rocko. Lisa had been right, though, he looked like some ancient warrior. His Armani slacks couldn’t hide the power he could wield.
Kat shivered and looked at the necklace under the thin fall of water.
A warrior like that wouldn’t give up until he reclaimed what had been stolen.
Chapter 2
“Sweet Mother Mary, Kat, we have an emergency!” Lisa cried, running into the dining hall decorated with balloons and streamers.
Kat whirled around, heart pounding so hard she couldn’t breathe. She nearly turned invisible right there even though Lisa knew nothing of her powers.
Kat swallowed, forcing down a breath. “Lisa, I can explain,” Kat started, certain she’d see policemen storming in with Roger on their heels.
“The blasted magician isn’t coming!”
“What?”
Lisa threw her hands out. “The birthday party, the magician. The kids will be so disappointed.” Lisa threw herself dramatically into an overstuffed chair in the corner. “I’m disappointed,” she mumbled.
It took Kat several long seconds and another glance out into the long hallway to realize she wasn’t being filmed for the latest COPS reality show. “The magician from Party City?”
“Has the flu.” Lisa pouted. “Probably has the hangover flu.”
Kat finished placing the party hats. Each quarter, they celebrated that quarter’s birthdays with a huge party for all the kids. If some didn’t know their birthdays, like Kat, they celebrated the day they came to Sister Mary’s Home for Children. She moved around the room twisting errant crepe paper streamers and re-sticking balloons while her heart returned to a normal beat.
“It’s okay, Lisa. We’ll find someone else to entertain.”
“Who? At the last minute?”
Kat smiled. She couldn’t let the kids down. She could throw together a few magic tricks. After all, she possessed magic, even though no one knew.
“Let me call Party City,” she said. “You finish up and make sure the cake is ready. I’ll ask for a replacement.”
“Good luck,” Lisa grumbled and pushed out of the chair.
Kat dashed around the house, finding odds and ends that she could use. A large cardboard box out by the garage, an old shower curtain, a sparkly princess wand, a bucket, and some newspaper. She set things up in the main room on a table. Kat stapled the shower curtain to the top of the box and filled the bucket with water. She dragged in one of the new plastic kiddie pools.
The kids began to gather, watching closely.
“What are you doing?” Susie Lu, an outspoken eight-year-old, asked.
Kat smiled. “It’s a surprise.” She winked.
“We’re having an indoor pool party,” Scott, a rough and tumble five-year-old, hoped out loud. “I’ll get the hose.”
“No,” Kat said, “it’s for the magician.”
“So they’re sending one?” Lisa asked, walking in and looking at all the odds and ends. “What, he doesn’t have his own stuff?”
“He’s coming right from his house and won’t have time to pick up anything.” Kat looked at Lisa. “And they were so sorry, they aren’t charging us.” That perked her friend up. And if this worked well, Kat might have another way to bring in money. Although a hundred and fifty dollars for a party was nothing compared to one or two jewel heists.
Heaven help her.
****
Toren stepped off the curb across from Sister Mary’s Home for Children as the cab pulled away. He looked up and down the busy side street.
An orphanage?
The binding spell on the necklace indicated the piece was inside. He shook his head. “Not what I expected.”
Toren crossed the street and jogged up to the double doors. He knocked, but no one answered. A few windows were propped open trying to catch the breeze. Laughter filtered out.
So how does one lay siege to an orphanage? He tried the door handle, but it was locked. Toren walked around to the side yard, where a back door stood ajar.
The laughter grew louder as he padded down a deserted hallway. Pictures of grinning children lined the walls, all framed and arranged in vivid colors. He peered around the open doorway to where a room full of young lads and lasses stared at a large cardboard box. He watched.
The box shook as if someone were inside. A voice called out from behind a curtain. “And now,
my new assistant Princess Clara will pull back the curtain after I say my magic words.”
A girl in a pink fluffy dress and gold ringlets stood giggling beside the box.
“Now, Logan, are you still behind my magic box?” the deepened voice called out. “So that I cannot escape that way?”
An older boy, probably ten summers old, poked his head around the cardboard corner. “Still here. You ain’t getting out this way,” he called.
“Then,” the voice drawled dramatically while the box shook. “Hocus pocus, fee fee fox, make me disappear from this box!” Suddenly the shaking stilled.
“Open the curtain!” some of the kids yelled.
The little girl pulled back the curtain to gasps and laughter.
“Where’d he go? Logan, did he get out the back?” one child yelled, standing up.
Logan ran around front to look. “No, man, he’s gone!”
The kids clapped and ran around the room hunting for the magician while another woman tried to calm them back down.
Toren stood, shock numbing his face, as he watched the woman standing very still inside the uncovered box. Just like at his exhibit, no one seemed to see her.
The little princess dropped the curtain and the box began to shake again.
“Look!” kids yelled. “The box!”
The little princess shrieked and rushed behind the woman who’d helped calm things down.
“Logan, pull back the curtain,” another boy yelled.
Logan yanked back the curtain and the woman jumped out, her arms raised high.
Everyone gasped and clapped.
In a deepened voice, she said. “Ta Da! And now for my last trick.”
The kids moaned.
“Ahh,” she continued. “But I hear there is cake after my act.”
The kids cheered and plopped back down to watch.
Toren stood still, watching, half out of total confusion and half out of wondering what she’d do next to make these children so happy.
The woman, now wearing a sleek orange bathing suit, stepped into a plastic tub with fish painted on it.
“Now, Miss Lisa,” she said indicating the other woman. “You will dump that bucket of water on my head.” The room erupted in laughter.
Masquerade (The Dragonfly Chronicles Book 3) Page 3