As I sprawled on the rooftop, he landed beside me, whole and unharmed.
But none of us would stay that way if the assassin had his way. I rolled over and looked up in time to see the man knock Malcolm away from him. That gave him enough room to swing his gun up. It poised, ready to fire a round through Malcolm’s body.
Before I could do anything, a green streak flashed through the air, accompanied by a high-pitched screech. The killer staggered back with blood flowing from several long, ugly scratches on his face. He yelled a curse and swung the gun, trying to use it to bat away the green falcon swooping around his head.
Cearul was alive.
The killer was panic-stricken now as the falcon continued its attack. I watched in amazement as Cearul drove him closer and closer to the edge of the rooftop garden. He had forgotten about us, forgotten about everything except trying to shield himself from those slashing talons and that cruel, razor-sharp beak. He came up against the wall and again flailed at Cearul with the gun. Cearul had to soar away from him.
But Malcolm was there, and he threw a punch that crashed against the assassin’s jaw and bent him back over the wall. Cearul swooped down again, and as the man flung up his arms to protect his face, he leaned back too far and began to tip. He tried to grab something to hang on to, but nothing was there except empty air.
He went up and over and was gone, just like that, leaving nothing behind but a scream that ended abruptly a couple of heartbeats later.
Cearul settled down on Malcolm’s shoulder, his talons gripping without digging in, and as Malcolm turned toward the rest of us, I saw Eamon again, his figure seemingly superimposed over the reality of his descendant.
Eamon was smiling, too, as if well-pleased by what he had just seen. Then he was gone, fading away as he returned to wherever he had come from.
Cearul remained alive, his dark eyes blinking as his head snapped back and forth searching for new enemies, new prey.
“Aren,” my father said in a husky voice. “My girl.”
I turned to him and we put our arms around each other. For a long time, we just hung on, unwilling to let go.
From the corner of my eye I saw a similar reunion going on between Donovan and his mother. Donovan had a bloody gash on his cheek where Angela had clawed him with one of those fiery fingernails, but otherwise he seemed to be all right. Malcolm was wounded, too, with blood on the side of his shirt, but Foster was with him, looping an arm around his waist to hold him up as they came across the roof toward us.
The portal was gone. The green glow had faded from the air.
And with the suddenness typical of the desert, night came down on Las Vegas.
Chapter 24
“That phone call I got was from the cops,” Malcolm explained later when we were all gathered in the penthouse living room. The police had been there and taken statements from all of us, with Malcolm once again laying all the blame for the trouble on Vincent Arkady. Since it was doubtful the police would ever be able to question Arkady, who would be thought to have disappeared mysteriously from Las Vegas, that would likely be the end of it.
The doctor on call for the hotel had been there as well to patch up the scratch on Donovan’s face and the bullet graze on Malcolm’s side. He thought that Malcolm ought to go to the emergency room, but Malcolm had vetoed that idea.
He went on, “They were warning me that the prisoner had escaped and might be headed back here. They were right. They also told me that he was a professional killer named – “
“Janos Colburn,” Sharon finished.
Donovan stared at her for a second before asking, “How in the world do you know that?” His eyes widened in anger. “Good Lord, Mother! Did you send him after Aren?”
“I was trapped in the other realm, remember?” she said. “I couldn’t do anything of the sort. But certain members of the witches’ council have made use of him in the past, when someone needed to be eliminated and they didn’t want to use magic to do it.”
“Did you – ” Donovan began.
“I never condoned the practice,” Sharon snapped. “Killing like that always seemed so…human…to me. And it’s no longer done.” She paused. “Except that now we seem to have some rogue elements on the council who must believe that the safest course of action is to get rid of Aren’s threat.”
“I’m no threat,” I said.
She smiled at me. It wasn’t an icy smile, but it wasn’t a particularly warm one, either.
“I notice that you’re not stuttering anymore, dear.”
“That seems to have gone away.”
“And the spells you cast do seem to have a tendency to go awry, don’t they?” she said. “I can see how some of the council members might think it was prudent to deal with you…permanently.” She took a deep breath. “But I’m not going to let that happen.”
“You’re not?” Donovan said.
“That’s right. You see, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s the universe knows what it’s doing. There’s a reason that spell Aren cast sent the two of you back.” She looked at me again. “You’re meant to be together with my son, dear. Like it or not, there’s no point in any of us fighting it.”
“Well, that’s certainly a romantic way of looking at it,” Donovan said.
I reached over and took his hand. “Don’t argue with your mother, Donovan. I’ll take it.”
Sharon’s smile was maybe a degree or two warmer as she said, “I might learn to like you yet.”
I didn’t care if she did or not, as long as her son did.
Foster said, “What about…well, you can’t call it a talisman anymore, I guess, since it…I mean he…is alive.”
That was true. Cearul was back on his perch, but he moved along it somewhat restlessly now, back and forth, as he watched all of us. I had no doubt that if any of us acted like we were going to attack Malcolm, Cearul would came at us with all his winged, taloned fury.
My father said, “From what you’ve all told me, I think the bird must have been in, well, call it suspended animation for want of a better term. Eamon must have cast a spell on him to make him like that, until a time when he was needed again. That time was today.”
“That makes sense,” Donovan said.
“So what does that mean?” Malcolm asked. “I’ve got a magic bird, even though I’m not a warlock.”
“Maybe you just haven’t unlocked your full potential yet, Malcolm,” Sharon told him, and the smile she gave him was warmer than the one she had given me. A lot warmer. Downright hot, in fact. “I’d be glad to help you study the question and find out the truth of just what powers you do have.”
“Mother, you just got back to this realm,” Donovan said in exasperation. “You can wait a little while before you become a full-fledged cougar again, can’t you?”
I suppose that was better than what I wanted to say, which was an emphatic Ewwww.
“There’s Angela to take care of, too,” my father reminded her.
Sharon sighed. “Yes, you’re right, Edward. You and I knew she was mad. I’ll find a place for her where she’ll be safe, where she can’t hurt herself or anyone else.”
“I’d really appreciate that,” I told her. Right now Angela was in Malcolm’s guest room, still held motionless by the spell I’d cast on her, but she couldn’t stay that way forever.
My dad went on, “And even though the spell wasn’t completely reversed, the barrier between realms ought to be weakened enough now that the council can break through it and get rid of it.”
Sharon nodded. “Yes. That’s exactly what we’re going to do.” She looked around at all of us. “So I suppose the council owes a debt of gratitude to the lot of you.”
Foster sighed and said, “I was sure hopin’ I could use that talisman to get all my power back. It’s all faded away, though. Probably just as well. My time’s come and gone. I got my memories to keep me happy.” He turned his head and looked at Sharon. His bushy white eyebrows wagg
led a little as he added, “Of course, I could always make some new memories to go with the old ones.”
She rolled her eyes and looked away, but I had a feeling Foster Flynn wouldn’t be that easy to discourage.
A little later, Donovan and I went out to the garden. We stayed away from the spot where the assassin had gone over and looked out at the lights of the Strip instead.
“Beautiful,” Donovan murmured.
“All the lights?”
“Them, too,” he said.
“Cute,” I told him. “Not quite romantic comedy cute, but close.”
He slid his arms around me from behind. I leaned back against him, content.
“Ready to go home?” he asked.
“Yes. Oh, yes.” My father had called my mother earlier to let her know that he was all right, but I knew they were anxious to be reunited in person. And I wanted to see Corpus Christi again, and Taylor and Beth. I wanted to hug Matilda and see if Sherry had any work for me. I wanted life to be normal again. A new normal, to be sure, since now it would include Donovan, but still normal.
There was just one thing nagging at me. Somebody on the witches’ council was so afraid of my power that they had sent a cold-blooded killer to get rid of me. Would Janos Colburn’s death be the end of that…?
Or would they just try again some other way?
That was something that would have to be dealt with, but not now, and not alone. I hoped I would never be alone again.
That thought made me turn in Donovan’s arms and raise my lips to his. Just before we kissed, I whispered, “I l-love you, Donovan Cole.”
The stammer was back, but I didn’t even think about that until later, because right then all I heard was Donovan saying, “I love you, too.”
Vegas, baby.
About the Author
Livia Reasoner has been writing professionally for over 30 years. Under the name Livia J. Washburn, she received the Private Eye Writers of America award and the American Mystery award for the first Lucas Hallam mystery, WILD NIGHT, and the Peacemaker for her short story, Charlie’s Pie. Her website is www.liviawashburn.com
She lives in the small Texas town she grew up in with her husband, NY Times bestselling author, James Reasoner and a pack of rescue dogs.
Misadventures of a Tongue-Tied Witch: Boxed Set Humorous Witch Series Page 32