Time Spell

by T. A. Foster

  “Whoa. You ok? What just happened?”

  I couldn’t sort through the fog. Deep breaths, Ivy. My head was nestled against his chest, and I inhaled that wonderful Jack smell. After a few minutes, the clouds in my head dissipated. He had wrapped his other arm around me and had a double hold on me.

  I pushed back and found my balance. “I’m fine. It was nothing. I’m good.” I saw one eyebrow rise, and I felt the raging bull Jack starting to emerge. “Wait, you’re right. No more secrets,” I relinquished.

  He exhaled and loosened his grip on me a little. I could tell he had been ready to fight me on this.

  “It was the spell. Usually, when my brother helps me with it, it’s like breathing, but this time it was hard. I couldn’t keep focused on it. And the light isn’t supposed to blink like that.” I pointed to the blinking beacon hovering over Helen’s location. “Now I have a headache and I feel a little woozy. Neither of those things has happened to me before. But I’m fine. Totally fine.”

  “Why are you always trying to cover something up or derail me? Don’t you trust me by now?” He let his hand slide from my waist.

  “It’s not you. I’ve never shared my magic with anyone before. Can’t you just be patient with me? I’m not supposed to share it. Look what’s happened to me already!” I didn’t know how angry I would be without the full use of my power.

  I broke out of what small embrace Jack had me in and marched into the living room with the map in my hand. I focused on the search for Helen. I circled the spot on the map that was blinking green. I was afraid the Locality Spell wouldn’t hold and I didn’t want to lose her location if the green light did fade into nothing.

  “Put the map down. We’re going to talk.” Jack stood behind me.

  “No, we’re going to find Helen. We can talk later.” I reached for my bag on the other end of the table, but Jack grabbed my arm.

  “You’re avoiding me, you run from me, and you are keeping things from me. Helen can wait. You told me this morning that you would tell me everything. All of my questions, everything. What did you call it—an open book? Why are you avoiding me?” His broad shoulders filled my view. His breathing was rapid and the heat from his body was penetrating the space around me.

  I blinked. “Avoid you? Are you kidding, Jack? Since the day I met you, you’ve done nothing but avoid me.” I was starting to shout, but the words wouldn’t stop. “I’ve tried for two years to get close to you, to tell you things, go somewhere with you—anywhere—coffee, wine, anything. But no, you never had time for me.” I did my best Jack impression with my hands on my hips and mimicked his low voice. “Ivy, you better check with Ann and see if I have a calendar opening. Schedule an edit session with her.”

  He ignored my bad imitation. “What are you talking about? We work together. I always make time to work on your chapters. I’m your editor.”

  His confused look didn’t stop me. Two years of pent-up frustration bubbled out of me. “Exactly. You’re my editor. You’ve made it clear where you stand with me. You are in charge of all of my creative work, but you don’t want to know anything about me outside of work. You don’t want to know where my creativity comes from.” My eyes shot to his. “Don’t you want to know? Don’t you ever think about it—think about me? Think about us?” I stepped closer to him. “You’re just so, so, so professional all of the time!” I fastened my fists to my hips.

  His laugh surprised me. How could he laugh when I just confessed every crush moment I had stored for two years?

  “Professional?” His voice was low and quiet. His eyes penetrated through the steam and fury encircling me. “Is this professional?”

  Before I could answer, he brought both his hands to my face. My eyes locked with his while his thumb traced across my lower lip. I couldn’t move. He leaned down, brushed his mouth across mine, and lingered, kissing me deeply. I pressed my lips to his, taking in his tongue and the taste of his mouth. I moaned as his hands roamed over my body, wrapping his arms around my waist until I was pressed hard against him. I was melting into his embrace one kiss at a time.

  He pulled back and looked down at me. I didn’t want the kisses to stop. “I do think about you. I can’t stop thinking about you, Ivy Grace,” he whispered. “This is what I think about. Don’t you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

  My mind was swimming, and I was warm from Jack’s hot and hard body still pressed against mine. I didn’t want to talk or think anymore. No more deep discussions about magic or Proxies or even about us. I just wanted Jack to kiss me again, to touch me, to look at me with that devouring gaze. However, the timing was all wrong. We had to go after Helen. This couldn’t be happening right now. Why was this happening now? He had said everything I had dreamed of for two years.

  He smiled and leaned in to kiss me again.

  “No.” I put a hand on his chest and pressed. I was in disbelief at my own ability to apply the brakes on a kiss I had wanted ever since the first time I saw him. I whispered, “Don’t get mad, but we have to go. We have to go after Helen before she comes after us. Our only advantage right now is that we know where she is. You were right. We can’t hang out here like sitting ducks.” My breath was rapid.

  I wasn’t prepared for my body’s reaction when he let go of me and the sizzling force field that had encircled us broke. I wanted to wrap myself around him, and get tangled in his arms, but I fought all the urges.

  His eyes locked onto mine, and his voice was steady and calm. “Ok, Proxy first. But we are going to finish this conversation when we get back.”

  I took a deep breath. “Deal. I can do that.”

  My cheeks were red from the combination of his scruffy five o’clock shadow, and the thoughts of what Jack and I could do alone in a hotel suite for the rest of the night. But first things first, we had to handle this crazy Proxy.

  I gathered the map again. “It looks like she’s in Chestnut Hills. It’s maybe fifteen minutes from here. We can get a taxi to take us there.”

  I asked the cab driver to drop us off a few blocks from the blinking dot on the map. The little light kept a steady pulse on the Chestnut Hills’ street. I wasn’t sure how far Helen’s magic detection senses carried, and I wanted as much space between her and us while we looked for her exact location. Jack tipped the driver, and he sped off back to the dazzling lights of the casino strip.

  The homes in Chestnut Hills were massive stone mansions. Each one had a gated entrance, security cameras, and a pristine hedge of the latest garden craze. A few dogs barked, and we could hear water splashing in a nearby pool. Several of the houses even had large water fountains and ponds bubbling up in their circular driveways.

  I folded the map into a small square so the blinking indicator was in the middle. “I think it’s this way.” I pointed to the block north of us.

  The desert night was cool. I tugged my jacket around my chest and stuck my hands in my pockets. Jack had foregone a jacket and picked up speed to try to stay warm. He walked on the outer edge of the sidewalk, creating a slight barrier between passing cars and me.

  My witchy instincts were on high alert. My body tingled knowing that I was about to face the Proxy who had threatened and tracked me. I had never met an actual Proxy, and I could only imagine what my family would say if they knew I was walking headfirst into her vicinity. Daddy would be livid and Mama would be worried sick. My heart twinged with sadness, thinking of their worry and disappointment. I shook off the guilt and looked at Jack.

  He stopped. The blinking light was solid green. He stood in front of me and tried to push me behind him, but I skirted around his wide stance. We both looked through the double-gated entrance barring intruders from the driveway. A half brick, half iron wall encircled the corner estate. Security cameras were affixed to the top of each metal post, but the light indicators were dark. They weren’t on. We noticed next to the driveway a callbox with a touch screen was also black, no power. The sprawling house was dark. A wide marble staircase grac
ed the front entrance, but the plants were dead, the grass brown, and the fountain dry. Jack and I exchanged puzzled looks. It looked like a dilapidated, abandoned mansion. The Locality Spell had brought us to this house, and for a second, I worried that my spell bond with Ian was weaker than I had originally thought.

  I retrieved my hands from my pockets and let my palms touch the iron stakes of the gate. I pushed hard. The gate gave way and opened a few feet.

  “Let’s go.” I motioned to Jack to follow me through the crevice I had forced.

  “This is the plan? Walk in?” His low murmur reverberated over the back of my neck. I caught my breath.

  “Do you have a better idea?” I turned to face him, but I was already wedged in the gate and I ended up with half of my body pressed against his. He slid one arm around my waist.

  “I thought you were going to do some kind of a spell. Can’t you stun her or slay her somehow?”

  “Slay? Who do you think I am? This isn’t a cool television show where we save the city from evil. No, we’re not going to do anything like that. We’re going to confront her.” I was worried Jack had seen too many supernatural shows and had some preconceived idea about my powers.

  “I thought it was dangerous for you to be close to her. I can’t let you walk in there, into some kind of attack.” He kept his fingers securely pinned to my waist.

  “Easy, tiger.” I pushed his hand away. “She’s not going to do anything to me yet. She needs me to find those diamonds first. Remember? She wants me to have all of my magic.”

  Jack didn’t seem convinced, but he shifted his step and followed me through the gate. The bricks beneath our feet were uneven and pale. Scraggly weeds were forcing their way through each crack in the driveway.

  “Wait here.” I turned to check the side of the house.

  From the back of the house, I could get an aerial view. I wasn’t ready yet for Jack to see everything I could do. I floated between the upstairs windows. All of the heavy shutters were closed. I couldn’t see anything. We were going to have to do it the old-fashioned way and ring the doorbell.

  I landed on the rocky ground and headed back to where I had left Jack in front of the decrepit fountain. I forced a loud whisper. “Jack? Jack?” He wasn’t next to the fountain. I felt a terrible pit spreading in my stomach.

  Two overweight men were forcefully holding Jack while he struggled to free his arms. The men each had one of his arms pinned and were pulling him up the marble staircase.

  “Jack!” I screamed.

  I raced to the stairs. I searched the ground for something I could slug them with. The shorter man kicked the door open, and I caught a glimpse into the mansion. The men ignored me. They continued to drag Jack into the house while he wrestled to free himself. I followed them into the dark manse and down a narrow hallway. It was dark but ahead of us was a blaze of light. The men punched through the next set of French doors, revealing an open room with cathedral ceilings. Candlelight flickered. Tall, tapered candles, half-burned and covered in hardened wax, lined the room and the mantle. Mounds of dried yellow wax pooled at the bottom of the candles. The room felt dirty and desperate.

  Jack shook off his apprehenders. The two men willingly let him go and retreated to the corner. I raced toward him to make sure he was ok, but he shook me off and pointed to the center of the room.

  A willowy figure swayed back and forth. She twisted from side to side, holding a champagne glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The back of her beaded gown was tattered. Bare threads poked out from the satin fabric and gave the dress a wiry and balding effect. Her hair was pulled in a tight bun, but the once honey-blond locks were now white and gray. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There were one and a half earrings dangling from her earlobes. Next to her were a chair and a small table. A bottle of champagne and a few candles had been pushed around on the table.

  “Ma’am? They’re here.” One of the men coughed into his fist.

  The willowy dancer stopped in mid-sway and spun around. The candles cast shadows on her pale, thin face. Time had erased her flawless skin and replaced it with deep wrinkles and a haggard darkness under her eyes.

  “Don’t tell me what I can see for myself!” she snapped at the pudgy minion in the corner.

  Then, composing herself, she snuffed out her cigarette, took a slow sip from her glass, and slinked into the only chair in the room. She crossed one leg over the other and looked at us from her cattish eyes. Eyeliner streaked the border of her green gaze, and pinkish blush that was way too heavy for her fair skin was smudged onto her cheeks.

  “Oh, Ivy, I’m so delighted you joined us this evening.” She raised her glass in our direction. “And your handsome friend, Mr. Coleman. Such a pleasure.” She wiggled deeper into the chair. “We have so much to chat about. Would you two care for some champagne?” She waved at her minions to bring in extra glasses and the shorter man ran off.

  “No, thank you, Ms. Chadsworth, err Helen. It is Helen, isn’t it?” I peered at the old woman through the dim light of the room. I wasn’t completely sure it was the same woman I had seen in 1968.

  She bristled at the sound of Chadsworth. “Helen is quite fine. So sorry there’s nowhere for you to sit. We’re going through a bit of renovations here at the manor.” She twirled her hand in the air and halted her fingertips over her head, then began swaying again, but this time from her seated position.

  Jack looked at me and nudged me in the back. I returned a “shut-up stare.” I wanted to say as little as possible. Helen was the one who needed to explain what was going on, but somehow I thought she wasn’t going to explain her over-the-top-eccentric behavior.

  “So, where were we? Oh yes, Ivy! Dear, dear sweet, sweet Ivy. How did you like your gift basket? And the room? I hope they are treating you like royalty at the Starlight. Tell me, are they?”

  I was stunned into silence. The woman I encountered in 1968 seemed to have faded like her dress. There were no traces of the composed aristocrat.

  “Uh…yes, thank you. The basket was nice?” I looked at Jack. He shrugged his shoulders at me. “It seems maybe a little expensive putting us up in the penthouse given your current circumstances.” I looked around the barren room.

  “Oh, nonsense.” She waved a hand in the air. “I have credit cards. Doesn’t everyone? You know my family’s money built that resort. Every penny that went into those walls was from me.” She abruptly switched topics. “I have been waiting for you, little witch. I need your help, my dear.”

  Helen stopped swaying and turned her gaze in my direction. She sat upright and placed both of her hands on her shabby gown. My witchy instincts tingled, but I also felt something new, a slight pull as if they were trying to shift around in my body. I stepped closer to Jack and shielded part of my body with his. Instinctively, he reached around and braced my chest with his arm.

  “Yes, Helen. That’s why we’re here. To help.” I attempted a smile.

  “Oh, looks like I’ve already upset you.” She cackled in small bursts. “We mustn’t get ahead of ourselves. There’s plenty of time for that. I just wanted to see what you felt like.” My skin prickled as if I had just touched an electrical socket.

  I shivered, and Jack inched even closer so that I had to lean around his arm to see the unhinged woman perched in her chair.

  “Enough with this nonsense!” she snapped again. “I need those diamonds, Ivy. As you can tell, I really need them.” She waved her hand through the air again and lowered her voice.

  The tugging effect dissolved and I felt my body rebalance itself.

  “But, you have the diamonds, Helen. I saw you with a case of diamonds. What happened to those?”

  “Shhh shhh.” She glowered at me from a hunched position in the chair. “I knew you would go back. I knew you would find out I was still alive. It was only a matter of time with someone with your abilities. You’re meddlesome, aren’t you?” She poked her finger at me. “But aren’t you impressed, my dear? Wh
at a brilliant plan I’ve had all of these years.”

  I stood on my own. “Impressed? Why should I be impressed? You had your husband killed and conspired with his mistress. Then you managed to steal the largest diamond collection in the world and fake your own death.”

  Repeating the story back to her, I realized that it actually was an impressive feat. She had managed to untangle herself from one of the most powerful men in Las Vegas and disappear for forty-five years.

  “Why though? Why did you have to go to such lengths to be free? Couldn’t you have just divorced Holden?”

  The shrill scream filled the room. “Silly girl! Divorce? In 1968? He was a two-timing thief. He deserved everything that happened to him. He stole my family fortune and made a fool of me in Las Vegas. I wasn’t going to let him or Simone get away with that.” She pulled both of her legs up into the chair and slid them next to her. “Oh, you don’t think I was friends with Simone, do you?” She cackled some more.

  Jack and I were transfixed on the disturbed woman.

  “Oh, I guess I did love him at some point. In the beginning. Yes, that’s when I fell in love with Holden. Wasn’t he a handsome thing? But you can’t love a snake for long.” She peered at Jack. “He always goes back to being a snake. Simone wasn’t the first. If we hadn’t killed him, she wouldn’t have been the last. So, I bided my time and laid out my plan to make Holden suffer, reclaim my fortune, punish Simone, and run off with my true love.”

  She counted each of the magnificent feats on her bony fingers. She paused to see if Jack and I were absorbed in her every word. Afraid how she would react, we let her continue.

  “And this plan would have been brilliant if you hadn’t meddled and written a book about it!” She snapped out of her lulling storytelling voice and pointed a gnarled finger at me.

  “Helen, I never used your names. No one knows you’re alive. No one can trace the Vegas Star story back to you,” I pleaded with her.

  “Shhh shhh. I know what’s in that atrocious story! You painted me to be some kind of money-hungry woman and Simone as a beautiful victim. You didn’t know her. She was a vixen. She slept with my husband!” She spat at us.