“Kemble is thirty-six, and he hasn’t found the One.”
“Which is why I think it … it may pass some of us by. Maybe I’m never going to get it.”
Devin stood up. “The only ones living at the Breakers who will never get magic are Mr. Nakamura and me. It’s in your genes, Kee. When you find the One with genes to match, you’ll fall in love and get the power, whatever it is. Destiny.” He shrugged and looked away.
“That’s another thing,” she added darkly. “They each got a power that had to do with what they were good at.” She paused. Could she say this out loud? It was the other half of her pain. She took a breath. “What am I good at? My painting is competent, but not brilliant. ‘Not an auspicious talent.’ That’s what the review panel at UCLA said.” Something seemed to be sitting on her chest. “And what kind of a power would art be, anyway?”
He chuckled. “First you’re afraid you’ll never find your soul mate and get a power. Now you’re afraid it won’t be a cool power.” He grabbed the brush out of her hand and set it on the little table that held her paint box. “Come in for lunch with me before I head back out.”
When she looked mulish, he softened. “You can’t make it happen.”
“I’m not good at being patient.”
“No. So in the meantime, have fun. Be impulsive. You’re good at that. Go on a date.”
“With paterfamilias requiring bodyguards everywhere we go?”
“Tammy managed that prom for homeschooled kids and her date didn’t even know she had shadows. They’re discreet.”
“I’d know they were there,” Kee muttered. “I don’t know how you can be so patient with them trailing you all over UCLA.”
Devin shrugged. “They’re nice guys.” He chuckled. “Not overly fond of oceanography when they attend lectures with me. I think they don’t like the math part.”
“Or the botany part, or the computer modeling, probably.” Kee was amazed her surfer-boy brother was a whiz at all the things that went into his passion for the sea. Such a whiz he’d gotten a McGovern Grant to continue his studies at the graduate level. Probably the only way he would have worked on his doctorate. He was getting touchy about depending on the Parents for support. “It’s so strange to think that someday I’ll have to call you Dr. Tremaine.”
“Like you’d do that,” he snorted. The two walked into the kitchen. Devin opened the left-hand fridge and Kee sat on a stool at the bar that overlooked the food preparation area.
She could tell Devin was mulling something over.
“Kee, you can’t tell me no one’s asked you out.” Devin turned back, his arms stacked with packages of wrapped deli meats, blocks of cheese, and some tomatoes, all precariously balanced with a jar of mayo and one of mustard. “I wouldn’t believe it.”
“You’d be right.” Her sister Drew strolled in from the office wing of the Breakers.
“So who asked her out?” Devin grinned at Drew.
Kee frowned at her, for all the good it would do. Drew was not as sure of herself as she’d once been, what with her power being so difficult, but she was still an older sister. Enough said.
“The new curator at the museum.” Drew raised a supercilious eyebrow. She had their mother’s nearly black hair except with sea-grey eyes, and of course the pale porcelain skin the Tremaine women all shared. She wore a sleek red silk jumpsuit with a wide black patent belt and a tiny black lacy sweater as a gesture to the rising wind. How did she always manage to look so nonchalant and sophisticated?
“Betrayer,” Kee muttered. She always felt either frumpy or way too flamboyant around Drew. Kee’s hair was pale in comparison, her eyes a so-so blue, even though she had the standard Tremaine good looks. She was a pale shadow of Drew’s dramatic presence. It grated. “We had coffee in the cafeteria. It wasn’t a date or anything.”
“Do you like him?” Devin asked. He seemed particularly intent on slathering mustard on the load of protein he’d stacked on his poor slice of bread.
“Yes. She likes him,” Drew answered. “Even though she only talks to him about old belt buckles. Which is why she must go out with him when he asks her out on an actual date. Which he will.…” Drew hovered over the kitchen counter. “Hmmm. Is that prosciutto?”
“Yeah. Have some.” Devin pushed several packages wrapped in white butcher paper and the bread toward Drew.
“I’m just a volunteer,” Kee said, through gritted teeth. “I’m not going out with my boss.”
Michael came in through the terrace doors, looking tired. “At least I know how to find lunch.” He was big, six-five, and looked Italian, not at all like a descendent of Merlin. But the genes were in there somewhere. He and Drew acted like magnets across the kitchen and he put his arm around her waist.
Michael’s decision to use his Finding sense to locate lost kids wasn’t easy on him. He needed a picture of something before he could Find it. His power worked even if they had grown older. But if they were dead his Finding sense didn’t work. Every failure hit him hard. He kept at it though. Sometimes the kids had been snatched and sometimes they’d run away because of physical or sexual abuse. Michael always found the bad guys too, but he and Kee’s father took special interest in prosecuting those who abused kids in their family. Incest was a trust betrayed, her father said.
“Let me make you a sandwich,” Drew said, rubbing her palm over his broad back. “Help us pressure Kee to go out with the curator who likes her,” Drew invited.
“I think I’ll sit that one out.” Michael grinned apologetically at Kee. “And here I always thought I wanted a big family.”
*****
The old woman sang softly to herself. Only she didn’t look that old anymore. Maybe sixty-five, seventy. Sure, she had gray hair and her fair share of wrinkles. But her yellow eyes weren’t glazed with cataracts and she wasn’t one step away from being a desiccated corpse. Jason could actually look at her now without his stomach rebelling.
He stood in the shadows of the darkened hotel suite, silent, careful, watching her as she knelt in front of the lighted glass case that held the Sword. Sometimes he thought they were all crazy. Could they really believe the Sword had reversed her aging process? Sympathetic vibrations coursed through Jason’s body when he was anywhere around the damn thing. That Sword had something. He just wasn’t sure what.
Several new members of the Clan stood in the shadows with Jason. Phil, Denny, Talbot. The ever-present Hardwick hovered protectively behind the old woman. Rhiannon lounged on the big couch. She’d dyed her hair pink, of all things. Her stock was riding high after she’d gotten the Sword for the old woman, even though she lost the Finder to the Tremaines.
Jason couldn’t understand it. He hadn’t been forgiven for letting the biker Tremaine brother get away with his little rodeo rider. The fact that the Tremaines had hunkered down at their estate was at least as much Rhiannon’s fault as his. So why hadn’t she been punished? Jason sucked in a breath, trying to suppress the memories of the price Morgan exacted for his failure. Now he just did as he was told, expecting nothing.
The old woman lapsed into English. “Help me, oh Talisman of the Tarot. Help me find your mates. Give me the power to gather magic, as it wants to gather. Rivulets will turn to streams that flow into rivers, until they run into a mighty sea of power. I, Morgan Le Fay, will change the world forever.” She held out a hand. Hardwick lifted her to her feet. “Help me,” she hissed to the Sword, stalking toward the lighted case.
But the Sword only sat, immobile, silently gleaming. The silence crackled with tension.
“Faugh!” the old woman exclaimed, turning away. “This is getting me nowhere. I need the other Talismans.” She turned on Hardwick.
Hardwick took a deep breath. “Nothing in the British Museum, nothing at the Vatican. The Nazis don’t seem to have had any. That’s a disappointment. They were obsessed with objects of power. I thought sure…”
Only Hardwick could survive offering excuses.
“We
don’t even know the others still exist.” Hardwick shrugged his lean shoulders. Hardwick had been with her from the first. What was it now? Almost thirty years?
“They exist. I feel it in my soul.” The old woman’s eyes went harder, if possible. “The Cup has got to be a chalice of some kind. Start combing the world for chalices.”
Hardwick looked daunted.
“I don’t care if you have to go through every chalice that still exists from that period. I want—that—cup.”
There was no arguing with that. Hardwick sighed and nodded.
The old woman beckoned to Jason. “Where can we get an infusion of cash?”
“How about a football game? The gate receipts.…” Jason couldn’t help but grin. He loved to use his Cloaking. At least this would be fun.
“I was thinking someplace closer to home.”
*****
Of course Kemble found it impossible to get Drew alone. These days she was never far from her husband, Michael. They’d been married almost four years, but they acted just as sickeningly newlywed as Tristram and Maggie still did. Right now they were eating lunch on the terrace, even though the wind was rising.
Kemble stood in the doorway. Maggie was just bringing in her four-year-old, Jesse, from playing on the lawn. His hair was Maggie’s soft brown, but the kid’s very blue eyes belonged to Tristram. Tristram was downtown at his body shop today. He thought he was the only Tremaine who’d avoided having a security detail because he’d thrown a fit when he found Senior had assigned him one. Senior canned those guys. The new ones were more careful not to let Tristram catch them. Devin was disappearing down the cliff path with his surfboard. He’d seemed off lately. Kemble would have to check in with him, see what was up.
Once Maggie and her charge disappeared he sidled up to Drew and Michael.
“Hey, Kemble,” Drew said, smiling at him and setting her sandwich down on her plate. Kemble felt his stomach rumble. He’d forgotten lunch again.
Michael lifted a hand in greeting, his mouth full. He was tough. Ex-Delta Force. Kemble had seen him fight. Must have been a target growing up, at six-five. He had an at least an inch on Tristram and two on Kemble. But he was a gentle giant with Drew.
“Got a proposition for you, little sister.” Might as well get it over with.
Drew immediately looked suspicious. Well, he hadn’t figured it would be easy. He’d spent more than an hour thinking about how to approach her. In the end, all the stratagems seemed, well, stupid. The family had a need. Drew had to pony up.
He sat down at the weathered teak table. “Senior thinks we’ve got a problem.”
“Nothing he can’t take care of, I’m sure,” Drew drawled. She always liked to pretend she didn’t care. Ever the cool sophisticate. But she was family, and he detected the fragment of concern beneath that one raised eyebrow.
“Actually, he’s asked me to take care of it and I need your help.” Probably too direct.
“Really?” She didn’t have to sound so surprised that Senior had asked him to take care of a problem. She retreated to her bored sophisticate persona, crossing her long legs and leaning back in her chair.
“What is it?” Michael asked. His sincerity was a good match for Drew. Kept her honest.
“He’s concerned Morgan will get the other Talismans.”
“If they still exist, they are well and truly lost,” Drew drawled.
“How does he know the Clan doesn’t already have them?” This from Michael.
“Yes they are, and he doesn’t. Of course they have the Sword. But they don’t have all four.” He saw the question in both pairs of eyes. “Because if they did, worse things would be happening. Did you know the Clan was behind the fall of Lehman Brothers?”
Michael’s brown eyes snapped. Drew chewed her lip. Okay, he had their attention.
“Now, you ask, why me?” He sighed. “I asked that too. Senior will continue to play defense for the family and run the company while I comb the digital universe for any sign of the Talismans. Drew, we need you to help us with the historical research. I can acquire any primary resources you need, or digital versions online. But you’ve got to point me, little sister. And Michael, if Drew and I do our job and discover what they look like, then you come into play.”
Drew nodded, thoughtful. “It would help if we knew what a pentacle was. The cards show it as a coin.”
Suddenly she gripped the arms of the teak chair. Her eyes went wide, staring but not seeing. She began to shake. Michael lunged forward and put his arms around her, kneeling beside her chair. Her glass of iced tea rolled off the table with a crash.
“Drew, honey, you’re okay,” Michael soothed, holding her steady.
Kemble felt helpless. Drew’s visions gripped her like seizures and wouldn’t let her go. She was getting better at controlling them, but it was a long road, and episodes like this still occurred fairly regularly.
She sucked in little gasps of breath as she began to blink convulsively. “Michael.…”
“I’m here, honey.” He picked her up and carried her over to a cushioned chaise lounge and laid her gently down, then crouched beside her.
Kemble hovered in the background. Finally her breathing calmed. “What did you see?” he asked. Maybe all the talk of Talismans had prompted a vision that would help find them.
Drew’s eyes were big. “A flood. Mud and trees and debris all washing down a canyon, like an avalanche. There was a house there. A big house, but old. It was burning and it was about to be engulfed. There were people in it….”
Okay. Natural disaster. Big enough to roll out the company’s disaster relief resources? “So, any clues as to where or when?”
She shook her head.
“Just the one house though?” Michael asked.
“Yeah. But I just got the feeling that this would be something … devastating.” She looked at first one of them and then the other. “Maybe … personal.”
Both Kemble and Michael went still. Kemble cleared his throat. “So, uh, not a third-world country.”
Drew blinked, as though replaying what she had seen. “I don’t think so. It was a mansion, really. A little spooky. The grounds were well kept. Definitely not third world.”
“Europe, maybe?” Michael asked. “Some of their architecture looks spooky.”
“Hmmm. There was a tower that looked Italian. The house was more … Victorian? Below the tower were some SUVs. No Peugeots or Citroens, anything like that. I think it was America, maybe Canada. I can’t be sure.” She shook her head. “I just got an overwhelming sense of fear.”
Michael looked up at Kemble. “She sees it like a newsreel, no feelings, unless she’s personally involved.” He turned to Drew. “Did you see yourself?”
She shook her head. But she looked frightened. “There were some figures on the lawn.…”
“Take her in to rest for a while, Michael.” Kemble smiled down at his sister. “Then when you feel more the thing, we’ll brainstorm how to go about this Talisman search.”
She nodded and exhaled as though she was expelling the vision. “Okay. That’ll be good.”
Michael shot Kemble a grateful look and gathered Drew into his big arms. They exchanged looks that slowly turned heated. She laid her head on his shoulder as he carried her into the house. Michael had his own ideas about how to distract Drew from her visions.
God, it was hell to be around all this magic and all this love when it didn’t seem he had a chance in hell of ever having either for himself.
CHAPTER TWO
“You did what?” Kee gasped, outraged.
“I invited that nice new curator over to dinner tonight.” Kee’s mother was bustling about the big kitchen. She and Jane were making dinner, apparently for thirteen instead of twelve. Jane practically lived at the Breakers. She’d been Drew’s best friend since they were little, and nothing had changed when Drew got married. Guess Jane had nothing to go home to except an abusive mother.
“What’s his nam
e?” Her mother paused in thought. “Christian, that’s it. We’re eating late, since he has to get down here from the museum. With all this rain that will take a while.”
“Jesse can’t eat that late.” Lame, even in her own ears. She glanced over to Devin, slumped on the couch on the far side of the breakfast table. He was absorbed in his textbook.
“Elaine came down from Santa Barbara this afternoon. She volunteered to watch Jesse.” Her mother looked like a cat who’d cornered a mouse. Elaine Nakamura loved Jesse. Kee couldn’t even protest that asking her was an imposition. Her mother turned to Jane, who was just putting the finishing touches on two very chocolate cakes. “Those look scrumptious, dear.”
Jane gave a shy smile. “Thanks.”
“You have such a way with pastries,” her mother marveled, just as if this whole dinner weren’t going to be a total disaster.
“You can’t just invite him over for dinner,” Kee said, articulating each syllable as though her mother were not a native English speaker. “He’s my boss. He is not going to agree to come to dinner anyway when it’s so obviously a matchmaking scheme.”
“Now you know how Kemble and Tris felt when Brina drew up the guest list for parties,” Devin said without looking up. “They used to call it the meat market.”
“Hush, Devin, that’s not polite,” her mother said. She was chopping olives for some kind of Mediterranean sauce destined for the five chickens lying denuded on a huge platter shaped like a green leaf. Feeding a family with six huge men in it required a lot of food. “I’m sure they were grateful I gave them the chance to meet eligible young ladies.”
“Only if it ended in the bedroom,” Devin muttered. “At least in Tris’s case.”
“They weren’t grateful, Mother,” Kee insisted. “And neither am I. Anyway, I’ll bet he won’t come.” That hurt, though. “He’d probably rather die.”
“He accepted most graciously,” her mother said. She looked up from her chopping with a sly twinkle in her eyes. “We’re important benefactors of the museum. Why would he refuse?”
Waiting for Magic Page 2