Waiting for Magic

by Susan Squires

  And then he turned around and strode back down the hall to his room.

  Kee was shocked. It was almost like he’d slapped her. Jane was wrong. She didn’t have to let Devin move on from being her brother and best friend. He already had.

  *****

  How was he going to get through this? He couldn’t even bear to talk to her, knowing she was going to the museum, no doubt to see Curator Guy. Bastard wasn’t really interested in Kee. He wanted to court the museum’s biggest donors. Devin only hoped Kee didn’t get hurt in the process. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe Kee was forging a “relationship” with him. God help him, but that made his blood boil.

  Devin eased off his sweater and then his t-shirt. The thing was stained with blood in a dozen places. Better dump it before someone found it. He thought he’d gotten the worst of the cuts covered with Band-Aids. More work to do, obviously. He couldn’t let Brian or Brina know he was so scraped up. They’d want to know how he’d gotten that way. He was too old to be grounded anymore. But he wouldn’t relish that conversation.

  Because if he told them he’d been surfing last night, they’d want to commit him. They might be right.

  Why wasn’t he dead? He might have been able to take that wave in the daylight. But not at night. And not feeling drunk. He hadn’t been drunk, though. It was a family dinner, for God’s sake. He’d had one beer. So what was that feeling? And how had he avoided that first collapse of the pipeline? Waves were inexorable. They followed the trajectory of current and swell and gravity. They couldn’t just decide to open up their pipeline in the middle of its collapse. And what about that warm glowing spot around his surfboard? What was up with that?

  Then there were the rocks. No way he should have been able to avoid those. The feel of the sea heaving him forward, tossing him beyond those rocks, echoed through him.

  Last night had been a rush of belonging. He had belonged to the sea. Maybe because his emotions had been stripped raw, he had been able to feel the ocean as never before.

  That’s what had allowed him to survive.

  For what? He was still going to have to watch Kee fall in love with someone else. He was still going to spend his life loving someone who would never love him back. Was that really surviving?

  *****

  Kemble tucked the Wall Street Journal under his arm and headed in to breakfast. “You’re here early, Jane.”

  Jane closed the front door behind her. “Will it never quit raining?” She was wearing a beige raincoat and shaking out a gray umbrella. Jane always wore beige and gray, maybe darker versions in winter. “I just have a minute. I have to take Mother to the doctor this morning.”

  Kemble frowned. He hated to think Jane would spend the morning being verbally abused, but that was the likely outcome. “Well, better fortify yourself with some coffee at least.” He sniffed the air. “Smells like you could have some bacon and eggs if you have time.”

  “Well, actually I’m glad to catch you alone, Kemble.” Jane blushed. “I mean, I wanted to show you something, and it didn’t seem right to have everyone know.”

  Kemble raised his brows. “What is it?”

  Jane handed him a copy of the little local newspaper she carried under her arm. It was a bit soggy around the edges. “Sorry. I think you’ll still be able to read it. Page four.”

  Now what could be so important about something that only rated a page-four mention in the Palos Verdes Prattler? Jane hung her dripping coat on the coatrack and came to stand behind him as he paged forward. “There.” She pointed.

  “ ‘Residents on the cliff at Abalone Cove,’ ” Kemble muttered aloud, “ ‘report seeing a naked man with a surfboard walking along the beach during the height of the severe weather Thursday night. Complaints have been made to the city council and the Palos Verdes police department about their tolerance of public nudity.’ ” He frowned. “Why would the police be out looking for nude men during weather like that? And what loon would be out in that weather naked?”

  “Read on.”

  “ ‘Mrs. Rayland Sanford, of 152 Mira Mar Place, said she couldn’t see the man’s face, but his body showed many cuts.’ ” Kemble looked up. “She must have been using a telescope to see that. Bet she took a long, careful look, too.”

  Jane looked up at him expectantly.

  Kemble began to get a little nervous. “You can’t think we’re in any danger from some vagabond who likes to parade around in the nude during foul weather.”

  Jane looked a little incredulous. “You didn’t notice Devin limping day before yesterday? Or the scrapes on his jaw and his hands?”

  “He fell on the track down to the beach….”

  Jane looked at him rather severely from under her brows. “He’s like a mountain goat on that track. He’s taken it several times a day for years. And just who would be out surfing in that weather? She says clearly that the man had a surfboard.”

  “Devin’s not a man.”

  Jane actually threw up her hands. She never did that. “Of course he is, Kemble. He’s twenty-three. And he was out surfing in horrible weather and he could have been….” She glanced across the living room area to the arch into the kitchen where a shout of laughter sounded. She lowered her voice. “Killed,” she whispered. “Now why do you think he did that?”

  “You think this was Devin?” Kemble glanced at the paper. “Running around naked at night?” But she was right. Who else but Devin would even consider surfing in that weather, with those waves? He frowned. “Devil! That surf was the biggest we’ve had in years. If he’d been killed Mother would have been devastated.” He started for the kitchen. “I’m going to.…”

  Jane stopped him with a hand on his arm. “No, no. You can’t. That’s why I came to you instead of your parents.”

  He rounded on her. “Well, I can’t just do nothing.”

  “I’m not saying you should do nothing.”

  “Then what?” Kemble was confused.

  Jane visibly composed herself. “I think Devin is upset,” she said carefully. “I … I think you should, you know, be a brother to him right now.”

  Kemble drew his brows together. He felt himself on shifting ground. “What does that mean, exactly, to you?”

  Jane pursed her lips. “Make time to talk to him. Maybe find something to do together.”

  Kemble was lost. “Why? What’s wrong with him? Is he going crazy?”

  Jane gave a huge sigh. “He’s upset because he thinks he’s going to lose Kee as a friend. You know how close they are.”

  Ohhhhh. Because of Christian Coombs. “Maggie said he had a date on Saturday himself.”

  “I might have known you’d believe that.” Jane looked a little disgusted with him. That didn’t feel good. “Listen, Keelan is starting to date and one day she’ll find the one she’s looking for. And that leaves Devin odd man out. That’s why he made up a date he doesn’t have. He’s always felt like an outsider in this family, so it’s doubly hard.”

  “Wait a minute.” Jane wasn’t being fair. “We include him in everything. He is like a brother to us and a son to the Parents. Always has been.”

  “Kemble, he doesn’t have magic in his genes.”

  There was always that. Kemble could relate. “Some of us aren’t sure we’re all going to get magic.” Kemble felt his throat close.

  To his surprise, Jane reached out a delicate hand and squeezed his forearm. “You will,” she said softly. Then her eyes filled and she turned away. “Sorry. It’s just that I understand what it’s like to look at the Tremaine family from the outside in.”

  Kemble started to panic. Jane, calm and collected Jane, couldn’t start crying on him. “You’re part of the family, Jane. As much as Devin.”

  Jane dabbed at her eyes and turned around with a smile. “You’ve all been very kind to me over the years.”

  “We have not.” No, that wasn’t right. “I mean, it wasn’t kindness. The whole family loves you, not just Drew. I heard Mother and Senior talking wh
en you and Drew were maybe fifteen. They were trying to figure out how to adopt you. But with your mother still living.…”

  “Oh, that’s sweet. Of course, I would never have abandoned my mother.” She sounded wistful. “But it’s nice of you to tell me that.”

  “Well.” He cleared his throat. “Only right.” He’d better get back to safer ground. “So, I’ll, uh, keep an eye on Devin, and see if I can’t get him to, uh, open up.” He clenched his jaw. “And maybe I better get a ball and chain to keep him in at night.” He forced himself to smile. “Now, how about some coffee?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jason huddled in a deserted bus stop shelter on Hollywood Boulevard with his cell to his ear as the rain drove against the glass sides and clattered on the metal roof. “It’s Jason,” he heard Hardwick say. He swallowed hard and tried to stop shivering. It was one in the morning. Even the denizens of the Boulevard had packed it in on this dismal night. He noticed that blood was dripping onto the bench from his right arm. There was only one way he could play this and come out whole. He prayed to … well, to whomever there was to pray to, that he could manage the old woman.

  “So, you have him?” Her voice crackled with expectation as she got on the line.

  “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, not exactly?”

  Uh, oh. “I can confirm that he’s is the real deal.”

  “Define ‘real deal.’ ” The voice had turned dead, unforgiving.

  “He’s got some kind of supernatural something—force, beast? I’m not sure—protecting his house.”

  “You couldn’t get through, even Cloaked?”

  “Cloaking was how I got out with my life. I’m heading over to the E.R. to get some repair work.” She’d know he was in bad shape. He never got stitched up. He heard her acknowledgement that he was serious in her silence.

  “You think he’s got the gene?” she asked after a moment.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted reluctantly. “I’m not sure if it’s a power, or if he’s just called up something from the abyss with some spells. He’s got a collection of all these old books and shit up there. At least that’s what his cook says. She thinks he practices Old Magic.”

  “Hardwick says he’s Golden Dawn,” the old woman mused. “A Magister. He must have studied the texts. He could have used a demon to protect the place.”

  “He sure used something.”

  “Do you think he knows you were there?”

  “Yeah.” Might as well admit it. Jason would never forget the still figure silhouetted against that lighted upstairs window, watching as Jason had fought shadows that ripped and tore at him. He had been Cloaked, invisible. But Pendragon had known he was there, Jason would swear it. And the magician had been enjoying the mayhem and bloodshed.

  “Get treatment,” she said. “And get a hotel room. Fly back when you’re ready.”

  That was as much forgiveness as he was likely to get. He was grateful for that much.

  *****

  Kee threw her caution-sign-yellow Prada shoulder bag over the office chair. Kemble was seated at his computer, but at her entrance, he swiveled, a concerned look on his face. “So how did it go?”

  “It was Starbucks, not the prom.” She flung herself into a visitor’s chair.

  “That bad, huh?”

  When had Kemble started to get a sensitive side? “I don’t know what was worse, the security detail that hovered in the corner, or the fact that Jane was right. He did call. The cover was that he wanted me to organize the volunteers.”

  “So, uh, you got a promotion? That’s good at least.”

  Kee sighed. “Yeah.” Christian had been very solicitous. They had talked business, haltingly. But there had been an undertone. He’d suggested dinner. Painful. Because nice as he was, she just couldn’t bear thinking about having “dates” with a full security detail when she wasn’t really interested. So she had said she couldn’t. Why wasn’t she interested in a cultured and handsome man? But there just wasn’t any spark there. “Father will be disappointed.”

  “Don’t worry about him.” Kemble fumbled with some papers, looking uncomfortable. “You’ll still be Daddy’s girl.”

  “Not you too. I don’t want to be Daddy’s girl. I don’t even want to be a good girl.”

  Kemble gave a hesitant smile. “But you always are. Even now you’re worried about disappointing him.” He shrugged. “But if you don’t like Christian, you don’t like him.”

  “I like him,” Kee protested. “Just not like … that.”

  “Give it another try,” Kemble suggested. “You might just have some fun. So what if he’s not the One and only?”

  Kee made a face. “Okay.” Maybe. End of subject. She looked out at the rain pounding against the French doors. “It never rains this much in November.”

  Kemble looked sort of relieved she’d closed the subject. “We’ve got an El Niño going this year. California’s in for a wild ride.”

  “That’s the warming of the ocean thing?”

  “Yes, at the equator. Good for the drought if we can get enough into the snowpack.”

  “All this rain is probably upping the suicide rate, too,” she said, her mouth wry. “It’s sure depressing me.”

  That got a grin out of him. Her oldest brother wasn’t as serious as he made out. “Hope you’re not contemplating anything like that. Christian would have to find someone else to supervise the volunteers.” He paused and examined her face. “If he’s made you unhappy enough to consider suicide, I’d be glad ruin his credit for you.”

  “No deal. He’s a nice guy.” But she’d bet her oldest brother was more than a match for Christian Coombs, for all her boss’s easy sophistication. “I’m not even sure why you’re offering. If I commit suicide I won’t be around to appreciate his suffering.”

  “That’s why I’m telling you now.”

  She suppressed a grin. “How’s the research coming?”

  Kemble turned serious. “We’ve been at this for nearly two weeks and Drew’s still getting nowhere. Chalices all seem to belong to the Church with no clear line to Merlin. Lots of references to wands, even back to early civilization. But no physical survivors she can find before about 1800, unless you count scepters, which could be like wands, so she’s concentrating on those. And we have no idea what a pentacle really is. They’re portrayed on the tarot cards as coins with a five-pointed star on them. But we can’t find any reference to coins like that. Drew says the version of the tarot deck with coins is pretty recent anyway.”

  “Oh. So how are you doing on Pendragon?”

  Kemble swiveled to his computer and just contemplated it for a moment. “He’s a bit of a conundrum. I couldn’t find a picture. There are references to him as early as 1920. So, either he’s one hundred twenty years old and about to kick the bucket, or they refer to his father. Magicians do sometimes bequeath their best tricks and their names to their progeny. His father was a member of the Golden Dawn back in the day, which explains a lot.” Kemble froze then peered out into the corridor. “Oh, hi, Devin,” he said, looking a little uncomfortable.

  Kee tried to swallow. She didn’t turn. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard her agreeing to go out with Christian? If he asked again.

  “Drew sends a message.” Devin’s deep voice was flat. “She wants to see you later.”

  “She, uh, seem excited?” Kemble asked, hopeful.

  “No. Her exact message to you was, ‘Tag, you’re it. See me later.’ ” Devin turned to go.

  “No, no, don’t go,” Kemble said, standing suddenly. He pulled Devin into the room with one arm. “You’re just what we need.”

  Devin looked acutely uncomfortable as he lowered himself gingerly into another of the chairs. He wore a hooded sweatshirt with his jeans as a nod to the season. Actually Kee was surprised he wasn’t wearing shorts. He usually wore them all year long. The scrapes on his face and knuckles seemed to be healing. He was not looking at her. Carefull
y not looking at her. “I’m no use on the hunt for the Talismans.”

  Kee thought Kemble was going to jump out of his skin. He glared at Kee.

  “Don’t blame Kee,” Devin said. “She didn’t betray your secret. I heard you talking to Museum Guy the other night. It was obvious you were going after the Talismans and he seemed to think that Pendragon guy might have them.”

  “Or at the least, he might be able to help,” Kee corrected, clearing her throat. There, she’d managed to talk normally with Devin in the room. It would all be easier now.

  “It’s okay,” Kemble said, apparently as much to himself as to them. “Devin, I think we need your perspective.”

  “Like I’m going to be of any use.”

  That’s just how Kee had been feeling.

  “Just don’t tell anybody else we’re looking for the Talismans. Senior put me in charge of the quest and I don’t want the younger ones to get worried, or worse, try to help.”

  Devin rolled his eyes.

  “Okay. So I should have known you could keep a secret.”

  “So what’s the Golden Dawn?” Devin had been listening at the door.

  Kemble shrugged as he realized it too. “The Golden Dawn is a secret society based on magic and occultism. Started in the nineteenth century in Britain.”

  “So, like a magic club?” Devin asked.

  Kemble bit his lip. “Maybe more than that. Dark arts and all. It was said at the third level they could do astral travel and tell the future, perform alchemy, things like that.”

  “Alchemy? Like turning iron into gold.” Devin’s voice dripped sarcasm.

  “I know, I know,” Kemble said. “But they were very into the tarot, too.”

  Kee agreed. “I think Drew mentioned that when she was researching the tarot’s history. That might be a reason for him to have a Talisman. But weren’t they the ones who said it came from some Egyptian god? Where’s the Arthurian connection?”

  Kemble tapped a pen against his lips. “Drew and I aren’t sure. But the name Pendragon indicates there is one. Museum Guy’s tip might be better than he knew.” He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. “Golden Dawn had some pretty famous members, Yeats, the poet, and Bram Stoker among them. A guy named Aleister Crowley. I emailed one of the current members.” He raised a hand to forestall protests. “Yes, the Golden Dawn still exists, though they’ve gone underground. I went to school with him at Harvard. He was in the Divinity School of course, while I was in the Business School.”