At Your Command

  Maggie found herself blinking in the July sunshine, wondering how she'd become the wayward daughter and Tom the favorite son.

  THREE MONTHS LATER, Maggie found herself blinking again, this time at her mother.

  "So how do you two like working together now that school has started?" Sarah asked. Dressed in one of her few business suits, she looked out of place in her homey kitchen.

  Maggie stole a sideways glance at Tom, who was sitting beside her with his mouth full of pancakes. Just like Tom to have a good excuse to leave the explaining to her. Her mother was standing over them like a prison warden.

  "We don't work together, Mom. I'm only at the school three times a week. Tom less than that. We hardly see each other." Maggie glanced at her watch and brushed crumbs from the sleeve of her suit. She had a half-hour before she had to leave.

  Applying for the part-time counseling position at the school had been a whim. Something Chet had said about getting back to the source, to the students, had struck a cord with her. Not with Chet, of course, but she felt ready for the challenge of working in a school again. Life at a big university had lost its appeal. That her position brought her into proximity with Tom was purely accidental, as was the way his knee brushed against hers every time he reached for something.

  Why the contact sent shivers up her back, she wasn't certain. The feel of jeans against her nylons shouldn't have that effect. Probably some blasted spell Tom had put on her.

  He reached for the syrup again and she bit her lower lip to keep from gasping. When he added a dollop to his plate, she up ended the bottle for him. A nice lake of syrup would put an end to all of this reaching and rubbing.

  Tom gave her that all suffering look, like the one when she'd hit him in the face with a snowball that first time. "Maggie, what are you doing?"

  Now she knew he wasn't as innocent as he looked. He was a conniving jinn, even if she didn't believe he was evil. "As if you didn't know, you little--"

  "Margaret Yates." Sarah removed the syrup from the table. "You behave."

  Tom followed his knee brush with a squeeze of her upper thigh. Maggie opened her mouth to report the violation, but decided the situation had already descended to the kindergarten level and her mother was losing patience. Tom was finishing her pancakes for her, ones that weren't drowned in syrup.

  Sarah cleared the table, despite Tom's moving fork. "If you two have stopped playing, I have an ulterior motive for asking you both here."

  Tom sat at attention now, his hands folded before him like an obedient schoolboy. Maggie wasn't fooled. He rubbed his tennis shoe against her leather pump, forcing her to move her chair, which earned her a glare from her mother. Tom had been eating too many meals with third graders.

  Maggie stood to retrieve her coffee mug. "So, what's up?"

  "I've decided not to wait until I sell the house. I'm going to move now."

  Maggie knew they were coming, but the words still shocked her. She had finally reconnected with her mother after all of these years. It was like leaving home again, only this time her mother was the one doing the leaving. "Are you sure you want to do that? Will you have enough money without selling? Where are--"

  "Maggie." Sarah no longer looked impatient. She sat at the table across from Tom and Maggie joined her. "Now that it's October, I don't want to deal with another winter. I know, you and Tom could help, but it's time for me to go."

  Tom eyes had lost their playful sparkle. He reached across the table and took Maggie's hand, but he spoke to Sarah. "Will Maggie go with you?"

  Her mother chuckled at that. "I think Maggie is old enough to get along without me, don't you?"

  Maggie squeezed his hand, hoping to reassure him. She succeeded in encouraging him. His other hand joined his first. She pulled slowly away, then stood again to refill her mug. Why did he have to look so blasted seductive in a white, button-down shirt?

  Sarah joined Maggie at the counter and started another pot of coffee. "I did have an idea along those lines, which is why I asked you here before I leave. I want you to house-sit for me, Maggie."

  "I can pay rent and--"

  "Taking care of the utilities will be more than enough, dear. I was trying to say the house is so big and I wouldn't mind if you asked Tom to share the house."

  The image came to mind much too easily. Working together with Tom, living with him, sleeping in the single bed just up the stairs.

  "No," they both said at once.

  "Mrs. Hanson needs Tom there," Maggie said.

  "I wouldn't mind either." Tom finished a fraction of a second behind her.

  Tom withdrew his hands and stood. He was blushing. Maggie reached out to reassure him. Her hand met his smooth cheek, and the truth came in a rush.

  He didn't shave, he didn't have to, and not because of some genetically inherited lack of facial hair. He didn't have an explanation of course, just observations. Hair didn't grow on his face, his fingernails never needed trimming. The hair on his head remained the same exact length Melanie had trimmed it.

  As for the rest of his body, for every lunar month he aged a day. How long had he been with her, out of his box? A few weeks only in this house, less than six months total. Tom had aged six days since she met him. If he remained on this plane, how old would he be in twenty years? In another thirty, when like her mother, Maggie was thinking about retiring? She didn't want to do the math.

  "Of course, Mrs. Hanson depends on my presence." Tom intoned the words and retrieved his cup half filled with cold orange tea from the sink. "Maggie has no need of me."

  "I'm sure you two young people can sort that out. I have a plane to catch."

  "So soon?" Again, Maggie and Tom spoke in unison. It was beginning to get on Maggie's nerves. Tom swore he couldn't read her mind.

  "I've been packing and sorting for months. Neither one of you should be surprised. I'll be renting a condo in Mytle Beach for the time being, giving it a test before I buy. In the mean time, Tom?"

  Tom bowed, still keeping an eye on his cold tea.

  "I want you to take care of Sam for me. I'm afraid the weather change between here and the Carolinas would do him in."

  "My pleasure, Lady Sarah. And what do you have for Maggie?" Tom was smiling now.

  It wasn't an evil grin on her mother's face, not exactly, more like that of a plotter. "Nothing but advice. Maggie needs a date for the Halloween dance. I suggest she ask you before some other young lady beats her to it. I have plenty of old costumes in the upstairs closet. I saved them just for you, Maggie. I know how you love to play dress up."

  Maggie groaned. A car horn interrupted her.

  "You know how I hate good-byes. I've got a ride all set to the airport, packed and ready to go."

  Several kisses and hugs later, Maggie and Tom were left facing each other in the kitchen. Maggie understood about hating good-byes, but she hated Halloween more. Her mother knew that, so why had she made certain she couldn't weasel out of the dance?

  "My Maggie would like to ask me on a date?"

  "No, Tom, it's not like that."

  "Oh, of course, I must ask Maggie. That's the way it's done. I didn't know about the Halloween dance. I am helping with a party for the children after school that day next week."

  "That's what I'm doing too, Tom. It's a party for the older students later in the evening. I'm going to be what is called a chaperone. I supervise the activities, make certain they don't get out of hand..."

  Tom wore that puzzled expression again.

  "I will act as an example for the younger people to follow."

  That Tom understood. "A solemn honor. I will endeavor to live up to the responsibility."

  Maggie suppressed her sigh and took Tom's cup. It wasn't his fault she hated Halloween--the dressing up, the scary talk, the pretended belief in the supernatural....

  Not pretend any longer. She believed, at least in one jinn.

  "You'll need a costume. Mother might have something of my brothers' that would fit you.
"

  "What is the purpose of this costume?"

  Maggie thought of it as a way of showing off. Someone always had a costume flasher or more expensive than hers. When she was younger, her mom had whipped hers out on the old Singer a few days before.

  "There are various theories, but children like to pretend to be someone they would like to become in the future or what they would become one day if they could. Of course, the choice is limited by what clothes are available."

  "I will give the matter thought."

  "And consult the post office?"

  "Yes, My Maggie, I will consult the post office." He smiled at what had become a joke between them.

  When he slipped a hand around her waist, she pressed a fresh cup of tea into his hands. He took the hint graciously and stepped back, using his free hand to examine the box of tea bags. He had expressed a preference for anything British or Indian.

  Tom looked very much at home in her mother's kitchen, his legs crossed at the ankle, leaning against the kitchen sink. She didn't catch on at first, thinking he was studying the box of tea. Then she noted he was looking over the box at her legs.

  With a tug, Maggie tried to lengthen her knee-length skirt. "Don't forget, you promised no magic. Not even on Halloween."

  Chapter 12

  MAGGIE HESITATED, her hand inches from Mrs. Hanson's front door. Why had she let her mother rope her in to this? Apart from polite greetings, Maggie and Tom had spoken exactly twice since he'd moved.

  Since their meeting last week in her mother's kitchen, it had become worse. If he crossed her mind whenever she saw pancakes, she could have endured, but every time she ate breakfast, visions of Tom, clothed and unclothed, filled her head. The moments that stretched between one breakfast and the next became an exercise in concentrating on work.

  If she could forget him for weeks, even for days at a time, she could have stayed away, but she was obsessed. She couldn't go for more than an hour without thinking about Tom. This felt worse than when she'd suspected a psychotic breakdown. At least then, she'd had her apparition. She'd had Tom.

  After squaring her shoulders, she knocked on the door. Closure had worked for her mother. It would work for Maggie. Sarah had moved on. She was dating other men. She implied she did, anyway.

  Mrs. Hanson answered the door, peeking first, then swinging it open wide. "My, don't you make a cute witch, dear."

  Maggie tugged at her skirt, wondering again how Shelley had talked her into going to the Halloween party as a witch. She could only pray someone had explained the concept to Tom.

  Although they worked in the same school system, they traveled in separate circles. Maggie worked at the high school two and half days a week as a counselor and filled in as a part-time special education teacher in the next county. The driving didn't leave much free time.

  Tom, who had only three jobs since the theater projectionist returned, worked periodically at the grade school. Maggie had observed one of his historical theatricals and had been impressed. He was strictly a volunteer and seemed to enjoy working with the children.

  Mrs. Hanson's smile drew Maggie farther into the house. No reason why she should be shy. It wasn't like this was a date. She was only giving Tom a ride.

  "He's in the piano room relaxing, dear. The poor boy is quite exhausted from this afternoon. I hope you two enjoy yourselves. He deserves an adult evening after spending so much time on the children's party."

  Maggie didn't know why she felt she had to explain. "This isn't a date, Mrs. Hanson. We're chaperones."

  Music sounded from the living room. Tom enjoyed classical music? That surprised her, but maybe classical was all Mrs. Hanson had to offer on her ancient stereo.

  The sight of a man dressed in black, seated at the piano stopped her. The lights on the stereo amplifier weren't lit.

  "I thought you weren't going to use any magic."

  The familiar strains of Moonlight Sonata ended in a dissonant jangle of cords and Tom stood. He didn't turn to face her, but she recognized the black curls beneath his top hat and the swirling grace of his arm when he swept aside the black cape.

  "Magic doesn't make the piano work, Maggie." Before she could stop him, Tom had lifted the top of the upright to show her the inner workings. "It's these little hammers on strings inside"

  Abruptly he stopped his explanations and his body tensed. "You know how a piano works, Maggie. You used to take lessons."

  "She always was a slow student," Mrs. Hanson said. "Never did like to practice and cheated on her assignment book. More than once I caught her erasing numbers and tearing out pages to avoid Bach."

  Maggie blushed at the memory of childhood transgressions. Finally, Tom turned to face her, a tentative smile on his face. He addressed Mrs. Hanson. "Bach is most difficult. I prefer your Mr. Beethoven."

  "My most gifted student is my last," she said as she shuffled from the room.

  Tom was dressed as a magician. The inside of his cape was bright red satin and a plastic cane rested on the top of the piano. Underneath, he sported a well-worn tuxedo, the costume a hand-me-down from some citizen of Rawley, no doubt.

  "Mrs. Hanson says you've been entertaining the children."

  "Magic tricks," he replied with a bow. "All done without magic and only the tricks. To please you."

  That smile again, as if they had just met and he wasn't certain of his welcome. "You did not attend."

  "It was my day to be out of town."

  He nodded, accepting her explanation. "The children had a great deal of fun. Such wonderful games. I understand more such celebrations follow in the next two months."

  "Thanksgiving and Christmas." The words caught in her throat. She wanted to share them with him.

  "Yes, Pastor Martin has been trying to explain your mysteries to me, but this All Hallows Eve, honoring the dead, I understand. Now the celebration for the grownups begins, but still no real magic." Tom flared his cape and drew flowers from the air.

  She expected a plastic bouquet. Instead, the smell of flowers filled her head. Before she could make any accusations, Tom retrieved the pin from the florist box.

  Which of his advisors at the post office had suggested flowers? What he should do next, escaped Tom. He shrugged his massive shoulders and let her take the pin and flowers from him.

  Attaching them to her tattered black dress seemed a futile effort. Why hadn't she come as a fairy princess or that Amudala person from Star Wars? Someone with beauty and style. Instead, she wore black polyester with slits that extended from below her knees to her waist. Black satin shorts protected her modesty and a black hat with a limp peak hid her hair. Thank goodness, she hadn't had time for makeup or the fake crooked nose Shelley had offered.

  Tom was unusually silent as he walked her to her new car. Chet had arranged to sell her old clunker for her and had promised to mail the check next week. The Jeep seemed extravagant considering she'd just started at a regular job again, but it didn't pay to have unreliable transportation with a Minnesota winter only a few weeks away.

  She shivered on the walk to the car. The temperature seemed to have dropped since she'd arrived. Before she got settled, she pulled her sweater over her costume. The bright blue cardigan ruined the effect, but considering how fond she was of the outfit, it didn't matter.

  After seeing her to the driver's side seat, Tom shut the door and spoke to her through the half open window. "You said a Halloween costume should reflect one's secret desires."

  Tom's desires were clear enough. He chaffed under her no magic edict.

  "I've heard that, Tom, yes."

  "So, Maggie Yates, why are you dressed as a wicked woman?"

  THEY RODE IN silence in her car. He had obviously said something wrong. He found himself crossing his arms over his chest and raising his chin. The woman didn't believe he could drive. One of the many deficiencies he needed to fill. An easy thing to do with magic, slow and difficult without.

  Tom swallowed past a painful lump that had
developed in his throat. He had made a promise to his Maggie and he didn't want to break it. He also didn't want to be such a disappointment to her, a most difficult thing for a jinn pretending to be a mortal.

  Shelley had said this was an important night for Maggie, her first social function with her new employer. A celebration to honor the dead, Pastor Martin had called it. Tom frowned. Not a happy prospect for a party--all of his past masters, returned from the grave, their hatred, fears, and grudges intact. He hoped none of them would find him in Minnesota.

  Chet had been notified of the celebration, but gave no indication if he would leave California to attend. If Tom had more notice, he could have found a date for Maggie among the men she worked with at the schools, but Sarah had surprised him and he said yes before he had a chance to think. Maggie had extended the invitation in an impersonal manner. He hadn't dared hope she wanted him for anything other than an escort.

  Perhaps while she danced she would attract the interest of others. Her dress was designed to display her charms. The thought displeased him when obviously it should not. This was what he wanted, for Maggie to attract a mate, someone to make her happy.

  Escort or not, they must speak or Maggie would not have a pleasant evening. Her knuckles were turning white from gripping the steering wheel. "I am pleased, my Maggie--"

  "Just Maggie, for tonight, Tom, okay? No masters or clouds of smoke tonight. Okay?" Maggie kept her eyes on the road, her frown as dark as her dress.

  When she parked the car, she stopped him before he could get out to open her door. Her hand on his bare neck caused shivers he couldn't quite contain. When she leaned across the stick shift to kiss his cheek, he groaned with the pleasure of it. She was a very wicked woman.

  "Thanks for coming to this with me. It's awkward to come to these things alone. Everyone expects that after ten years I should have accomplished great deeds or have a family or something to show for my time."