It would take hours to puzzle out the script. Leah was about to toss it aside, but the next page showed a diagram of a mirror. So did the next and the next.
Her breath caught in growing excitement. She held in her hands a book of magic.
…
“Tomorrow I’d like to take you out. On a real date.”
Holly stared at Ryan, perplexed. “We’ve had plenty of real dates.” Right now felt like a date. After cabbing home, they’d ended up sitting on stools in the kitchen, sharing a slice of cake, their legs touching.
In addition to long, sweet kisses, they’d talked. Holly had wanted to hear every detail about his time in L.A., and Ryan had seemed just as interested in the mundane school stuff she’d been doing.
Ryan shook his head. “I’m talking about the kind of date where we go out to dinner—somewhere swanky—and then maybe dancing.”
Holly was getting the distinct impression by real date he meant one where he paid. “I’d love to go,” she told him. “But our other dates were real, too.”
Ryan said nothing, but the stubborn set of his chin said she hadn’t convinced him. At another time, she might have felt annoyed, but not tonight. Instead she kissed him again—only to break apart, blushing, when her dad cleared his throat from the kitchen entrance.
“Time to say good night, lovebirds. It’s two in the morning. Ryan, you remember the ground rules you and I talked about?” her dad said sternly.
“Yes, sir. No closed doors, no bedrooms, no nighttime meetings.”
“You, too, Holly. Behave yourself. No sleepwalking.”
She flushed. So her mom had told him about that episode. Great.
Ryan gave Holly one more quick kiss that nonetheless swept all her worries away, before he headed down the hall to his bedroom. Holly floated up the stairs.
She didn’t remember her promise to search Qeturah’s office until Leah’s Call woke her a bare hour later.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Swank
“So I need to find a mirror with sunlight coming out. Got it.” Holly leaned against the bathroom counter and yawned. “I’ll take a look in the morning.”
But apparently the matter couldn’t wait. Leah immediately launched into some explanation of how it needed to be daylight on Fire and nighttime on Water.
Grimacing, Holly held up a hand. “Okay, okay. I’ll go, just shut up.”
Mercifully, Leah fell silent.
Holly tiptoed downstairs in her pink shorty pajamas. She grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen, then slipped on her sandals and disarmed the house security.
She cut across the lawn in the walled backyard, stumbling once over a sprinkler, then paused well back from the guest house to study the darkened windows. The wind rustled the bushes like stealthy thieves. She felt as if she were about to step into a trap.
Holly pressed her fingers to her forehead and tried to think past her fatigue. What if Qeturah had set out copper mirrors and Holly’s reflection triggered an alarm? She shut off her flashlight, but the streetlights still provided illumination.
The sprinkler went off. Holly yelped as the cold spray hit her bare calves and feet, but it gave her an idea. Five minutes later, she was drenched, but she’d moved the sprinkler head to wet down the front of the guest house. Any mirrors ought to be smeared and useless.
Feeling proud of herself, Holly punched in the disarm code then opened the door. So far, so—
She squeaked as a large black bulldog bounded toward her. Its dark eyes glinted, and its jaws hung open, slobbering.
Pulse thudding, Holly ran like hell—
Only to trip over the sprinkler head. She fell to her hands and knees in the wet grass, then scrambled upright. She cast a frantic glance behind her.
The dog growled at her from the doorway, hackles raised, canine teeth bared. It lunged—only to be choked back by the thick chain around its neck.
She had to get out of here before it started barking. Her dad should have warned her Nimue had a vicious attack dog.
Uh, why hadn’t he?
A crazy thought occurred to her. Maybe the dog wasn’t real.
Qeturah had created an impressive silver dragon illusion by capturing the dragon’s image in an obsidian mirror, but it had only mimicked the true dragon’s movements in reverse, and it had been silent.
The bulldog hadn’t barked, but it had growled. Had there been something odd about the sound?
Keeping a wary eye on the dog, Holly searched the exterior of the house for a mirror. She walked past the ornamental fountain twice before realizing the water could be used to reflect. Sure enough, at the bottom of the fountain’s bowl, her fingers found a plastic figure with four legs: a black bulldog.
Tied to its body was another ring. Interesting.
Leaving the illusion magic in place, Holly boldly walked up to the door. Her nerve faltered when the black brute lunged again. Chain rattling, its teeth snapped just short of her fingers.
It was an illusion.
Probably.
Holly closed her eyes and edged forward. Fur brushed her fingers, but when she jerked back and opened her eyes, the dog had vanished.
Spooked, Holly clicked on her flashlight, but the beam revealed nothing more sinister than an ugly brown couch.
The dog illusion meant that Qeturah had something to hide. Holly moved down the hall. The room on the left was furnished as an office. She opened a filing cabinet drawer at random and winced at its squeal. The folders inside were full of scripts.
Walking faster, wanting to scram, she hurried into the second bedroom. The flashlight beam bounced back at her from a large mirror—fortunately one of glass, not silver—attached to a dressing table.
She turned in a slow circle, hoping to spot Leah’s mysterious ray of sunlight. No joy. Frustrated, she started opening dresser drawers.
In the third one, she found the means to make a crude Four Worlds mirror: a palm-size square of gold stacked on top of a pane of glass and a slab of obsidian. Beside them sat a bowl. The water inside shone faintly red and—Holly inhaled sharply—another ring nestled at the bottom, as if absorbing the light from the dying world.
Hadn’t Qeturah said something about gaining energy from the death of Fire? Was she siphoning power into these rings and then using them to boost her magic? It would explain why the bulldog illusion was so much stronger than the dragon one. Maybe—
Holly’s speculations derailed when her gaze fell on a picture of Joseph Beecher, clipped from a magazine. She picked it up, heart thumping painfully.
Tiny mirrors had been pasted over Joseph Beecher’s eyes.
This was how Qeturah had gained such a hold on her dad. She’d bespelled him.
Holly wanted to tear the picture in half, but what if destroying it hurt her father?
She laid her palm on the obsidian mirror. “Leah, I need your help.”
(I’ve been watching. Qeturah must be storing power in the rings. you should steal one.)
“Never mind that. What should I do about the photo?”
Leah hesitated. (leave it. Qeturah wants to borrow your father’s influence. she isn’t hurting him.)
Holly’s temper ignited. Not hurting him? “She’s twisting his mind! That can’t be good for him.”
(we have more important matters—)
“You’re just saying that because the duke was a monster. I love my dad, and I am not leaving him like this!” Holly hissed.
(if you break her spell, she’ll know that you know she’s not Nimue. she’ll try to kill you, too.)
Holly hesitated.
(there may be something that can be done. will you let me take over your body so that I can examine it?)
“I suppose,” Holly said warily. “But only for a few minutes.”
(I so swear, but in return for the service I would like some promises from you.)
“What?”
(first, not to leave your soul mate’s side. you don’t take the danger he’s in seriously
enough. you should never have let him attend that gathering alone, no matter your pique. second—)
“Just how many favors are there going to be?” Holly asked, irritated.
Leah ignored her. (that you tell Ryan the truth about his mother’s death. he’s in danger every moment he spends with Qeturah.)
“He won’t believe me,” Holly said flatly.
(you don’t know that. do you accept my bargain?)
Holly wanted to say no, but the thought of her dad fawning over Qeturah made her ill. “Deal. But I get to pick when and how I tell Ryan.”
From her pause, Leah didn’t like that. (I will give you a little time, but that is all.)
…
Leah staggered as her mind switched to Holly’s body but swiftly regained her balance.
Harder to shrug off was the niggle of guilt over the deal she’d struck with Holly. She wasn’t certain she could alter the spell on Joseph Beecher, even though she’d spent hours poring over the book of magic.
It daunted her how much she didn’t understand about mirror magic.
Two whole chapters were devoted to the illusions of the eye like the silver dragon Qeturah had wrought—all Leah had puzzled out from the diagrams and archaic script was that the same type of mirror as the world one occupied should be used.
The next three chapters dealt with the much subtler and twistier illusions of the mind, like the talisman Gideon had hung about his neck. They gave her a headache.
The Calling of otherselves chapter had been the most familiar, but the book flatly forbade physical travel to another world. It made no distinction between visiting a world where one had never had an otherself or one where that otherself had died. It claimed attempts to travel to other worlds were nearly always fatal.
Yet Qeturah had done both. So even if Leah learned all the book’s teachings, she still wouldn’t know as much as Qeturah.
More chilling yet, the inscription on the flyleaf read: To Qeturah, my most promising student, Malachi.
Her old teacher, whom Qeturah claimed had spies in the True World council. Leah shivered. She couldn’t stop whatever plot was brewing on the True World, but she could do something about the photo of Joseph Beecher. Upon close examination, the tiny mirror chips proved to be metal hammered incredibly thin. Aluminum, Holly’s memories whispered.
Carefully, Leah pried at the square pasted to Joseph Beecher’s left eye. She nudged it sideways so that it covered only half his eye, as if the glue had lost its hold. She left the second mirror alone for fear the damage would look too deliberate.
On impulse, Leah wet the tip of her finger and wiped the tiny mirrors. On Fire, Qeturah had used blood to send the firewasp through, but the book of magic claimed saliva should be used on Water to add layers to spells.
The spell should now be weakened, Joseph Beecher no longer blinded to Qeturah’s faults, but the process should be gradual enough that Qeturah wouldn’t suspect tampering.
Leah replaced the photo in the drawer, but hesitated before calling Holly back. The temptation to look in on Gideon’s otherself and assure herself of his safety almost overwhelmed her, but she’d given Holly her word.
Leah met Holly’s eyes in the mirror and let herself fall.
…
Even before the white limousine arrived, Holly had chewed off most of her lipstick.
It was all Leah’s fault. Her talk of Ryan’s peril had disturbed Holly’s sleep. When she’d woken, she’d glued herself to Ryan’s side. They’d spent the day reading scripts in the den. From a number of mysterious phone calls, she’d guessed he was pulling out all the stops in regards to their date, but she hadn’t expected a limo.
Swank, indeed.
Holly regarded the sundress she was wearing with misgiving. It was lemon yellow with polka dots, pretty, but simply cut. Leah had packed all the dresses Holly owned but had been clueless about accessories. The designer clutch purse Holly had received for Christmas was still back in BC. Ditto her jewelry. Worst of all, her choice of footwear had consisted of running shoes, the pink plastic flip-flops Cassie had mocked, or too-small white sandals she’d found at the back of her closet.
Ryan looked so delighted with his surprise that Holly couldn’t help but smile back at him. So what if her shoes pinched her toes? She was going on a date with Ryan.
He looked amazing in gray slacks and a royal-blue dress shirt that brought out the navy undertone to his hair. No Cody clothes tonight.
A uniformed chauffeur opened the back door of the limo, and Holly ducked inside. Ryan followed and handed her a long box.
Holly slowly folded back the white tissue paper, exposing a pink rose. “Thank you.” She gave him a lingering kiss until the car smoothly rolled into motion. “Where are we going?”
“Sunset Strip.” The corner of his mouth kicked up as he leaned back against the luxurious white leather cushions. “This is the way to travel.”
“Limos are cool,” Holly agreed.
His mouth parted in chagrin. “I forgot this isn’t new to you. You’ve probably been in dozens of limos.”
“Not that many. Besides, the other rides don’t count. They were with my dad and whatever”—bimbo. Holly caught herself just in time—“woman he was dating at the time.”
Happy again, Ryan started poking around in the mini fridge, exploring all the amenities and various remotes. He opened the skylight and turned on the radio, blasting a rock song over the speakers.
Holly’s nerves tightened when they arrived at the restaurant. From the number of photographers outside, Chess was a celebrity hotspot. She gratefully accepted Ryan’s assistance out of the limo so she didn’t flash too much leg. He put his arm around her waist and smiled devilishly for the cameras as they swept past.
Only a few flashbulbs went off—the paparazzi were lying in wait for bigger prey. They’d almost reached the giant chess knights flanking the door when a woman called out, “Cody! Who’s the new girl? Where’s Cassie?”
Ryan didn’t pause, but he tensed.
Was it because she’d called him Cody? Or was he worried about her reaction to Cassie’s name?
Holly squeezed his arm. “It’s okay. I know how crazy for a story the press can be. Last year one of them thought I was my dad’s date. Talk about ick.”
Ryan relaxed. He gave his name, and the tuxedo-clad maître d’ ushered them to a table for two on the patio overlooking a palm-filled courtyard. The floor was tiled black and white to resemble a chessboard.
After declining the wine list and hearing the specials, Ryan opened up his menu and winced. “Whoa.”
Puzzled, Holly glanced at her own menu. Continuing the chess theme, the appetizers were listed as “Opening Moves” and the desserts under “Check and Mate.” It was a little kitschy, but—oh. The prices were rather steep. “You know,” she said hesitantly, “the entrees are huge. We could share.”
“No,” Ryan said at once. “Trust me. I can afford this. It’s just…”
“It’s hard to change your habits,” she filled in.
He looked grateful for her understanding. “Exactly. Mom and I scrimped for so many years, I can’t turn that part of my brain off. The part that says, how can you spend what used to be a two-week paycheck on one meal? Stupid, huh?”
Holly reached for his hand. “It’s not stupid. In fact, it’s smart not to go too crazy spending. I mean, you hear about pro athletes who go broke buying too many fancy cars.”
“That’s a good way of putting it in perspective,” Ryan said lightly. “If it costs less than a car, I can afford it.” He returned to perusing the menu.
Holly took the opportunity to lay some groundwork. “Speaking of money…I don’t want to butt into your business, but you might want to start a bank account Nimue can’t access. In case she takes a wrong turn into crazy again.”
“I’m sure I’d notice the signs before anything got that bad,” Ryan said, but his forehead creased.
“So there haven’t been any more incidents l
ike when Nimue got confused about the Cody audition?” Holly pretended to study her menu.
Ryan’s jaw hardened. “That wasn’t confusion. She lied on purpose.”
That’s right, think about how unscrupulous she’s become. “But she hasn’t done it again, right?”
Silence.
Holly leaned forward. “What did she do?”
“Nothing.” Ryan rotated his shoulders as if uncomfortable.
Holly raised an eyebrow.
He sighed. “She keeps hinting that I should use my siren voice during contract negotiations. She says the studio can afford it, that no one would be hurt, but…” He shook his head. “I think I finally convinced her it wasn’t going to happen.”
Before Holly could cast more doubt on Qeturah, the waiter arrived with their drink order. Afterward, Ryan kept the conversation light. They snickered together over some of the more outlandish items on the menu, which offered black-and-white versions of the same dish.
Holly picked the black bishop’s seafood linguine, while Ryan ordered the white knight’s swordfish. Ryan was teasing her about eating linguine dyed with squid ink when a giggly blonde dropped her purse by their table. Ryan carefully didn’t look at her cleavage, but Holly ground her back teeth together. Especially when the girl left behind a napkin, probably with her phone number on it.
Ryan kept talking as if nothing had happened, though a red flush crept up over his collar.
Holly followed his lead, but five minutes later another girl—more polite, but still obviously thrilled—requested Cody’s autograph. He smiled graciously and signed her book. And then did the same for the next two.
Holly understood intellectually. Fans were important to an actor’s career. Ryan couldn’t afford to be rude and alienate anybody. But it felt odd to watch him slip farther into Cody’s skin with every signature. His posture changed to an insolent slouch, his eyelids dropped to half mast, and his voice deepened. Ryan’s voice made her think of chocolate or velvet. Cody’s voice had a dangerous, seductive edge.
Through Fire & Sea Page 28