“Wait!” Witch Casey commanded. “We’re not finished.”
“Umm,” Devon stalled. “I think we are.”
“You don’t even know what a Marduko looks like.” A serene smile lit Witch Casey’s face as she drew the curtain aside. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She crossed the floor of the shop, laughing and muttering to herself. Striding toward the shop’s window display, she picked up a carved African mask, returned, and presented it to Devon. “This is a Marduko. This is what you’re looking for.”
Well, she had said she liked the mask. Maybe Witch Casey overheard her? Devon’s mouth gaped wide at the large, rough-hewn wooden mask bristling with rusted nails and inset colored beads. At first she thought she was looking at the angularly chiseled face of a man, but on closer inspection she saw it was two dragon profiles facing each other to form a single male face. “Really? That’s him?”
“Not him. Them,” Witch Casey gently corrected. “Marduko males always mate in pairs. You’ll be part of a tight-knit trio.”
“Lovely.” Devon reached for her purse and eyed the exit. “That’s what I thought. I just wanted to be clear.” This woman is bonkers.
Witch Casey’s smile faded. “This isn’t the reaction I was expecting from you. You should be joyful. You’ve been chosen from among so many other candidates.” She tilted her head to the side to better study Devon. “I would have guessed the idea of sharing your life with two devoted lovers would have great appeal.”
Devon froze. Witch Casey was right about one thing. Sometimes she wished she could serve her darker sexual fantasies, which always involved at least two lovers. Deep down, she had to admit that a staid marriage with one partner might not work out for her so long as the larger part of her soul longed to be shared.
“You want your wish granted, don’t you?” Witch Casey stepped uncomfortably close and held the grotesque mask in front of Devon’s face. “You must return the stone to nature for your wish to come true.” She paused for what felt like a long stretch. “And not just any place will do. This stone must be returned to its home in Mother Africa.”
“Where exactly?” Devon let out a nervous laugh. “Africa is a huge continent. Could you be a bit more specific?”
“You find this funny?” Witch Casey recoiled. “Your fate depends on it!”
Great, she’d pissed off Witch Nutcase. Hopefully the lady wouldn’t put a curse on her or something awful. This woman was just too weird—but how the hell did Witch Casey know about her aspirations to visit Africa as a wildlife photographer? Maybe it was time to be a little more open-minded? “I’m sorry if you’ve mistaken my nervousness for something else. I’m afraid to return this beautiful stone to nature the wrong way. I don’t want to risk losing my wish.”
“It’s simple. Admit what it is that you truly want. Say it aloud, again and again until you feel your resistance to change melting. You must wish with all your heart for the life you were meant to live and then find the courage to embrace that life. I guarantee the wish will become yours. The stone will guide you toward your goal. It knows where it wants to be, and it will lead you there if you keep your heart open. Remember, on the deepest soul level, you’ve already chosen this fate. Now all you must do is accept it.”
Devon rubbed her hands together nervously. “I could run into a lot of trouble blindly going to Africa without any sort of plan except for following an open heart.”
“That’s not what I meant. An open heart will guide you toward your goal. Act on your dreams and the universe will conspire to make them so.”
Typical New Age prattle. Devon slung her heavy purse over her shoulder, preparing to dash out the front door. “So, my dreams are my tour guides?”
“Yes!” Witch Casey laughed. “Dreams are your tour guides. That’s an excellent way to phrase it. In the coming days, opportunities will appear from nowhere. You’ll know precisely where to go and what to do. After all, it’s your destiny to claim. No one but you can do this. Return the stone to nature and you’ll find the love of your dreams.”
An odd chill shivered over Devon’s skin as Witch Casey spoke. For a startling moment she stopped resisting what she was hearing and allowed her defenses to fall. Was this madwoman saying something important that she needed to heed? It certainly felt that way. Despite the ridiculousness of the message, a weird wave of emotion rippled through her and left her knees trembling. Is this what it feels like when destiny calls? Confusing, frightening and exciting all at the same time? She was almost light-headed. “I think I need to sit for a moment.”
“Please do.” Witch Casey busied herself wrangling the wayward snake that now slithered across the floor. She picked it up and kissed it. “Sit and think about your situation for a moment. Don’t be in such a rush.”
Devon lowered herself into the chair, her legs shaking as the energy seemed to drain from her body. A sense of hollowness swept over her. What if an open heart, a trip to Africa, and a stone could actually lead her toward happiness? Maybe this was her time to find and have real love in her life. She had to admit she wasn’t doing so great on her own.
Closing her fingers around the stone, she thought of another man who worked with her: Beau, the manager of the IT department. He was quiet and aloof with most everyone in the office, but his gaze followed her longingly every time she walked past.
When she’d confessed to a casual friend that she liked a computer geek, they’d teased her relentlessly. Beau was quiet and introverted, and though always helpful to his coworkers, he never seemed to socialize with them outside the office. Basically, he was the opposite of everything she usually found attractive in a man.
Thing was, Beau was the furthest thing from a dullard. Yes, he wore plain trousers, usually beige, heavy-rimmed glasses, and sometimes his shirt was buttoned up so tight around his neck, it looked like it might obstruct blood flow. But what her friends and others in her office seemed to miss was that beneath the subdued exterior, Beau was smoking hot. He had baby-blue eyes and his wild, uncombed locks were golden-blond with a hint of ginger. A band of coppery freckles crossed his long nose, and his voice carried the softest hint of a Scottish brogue. He pronounced e’s as a’s, and she wondered if Beau had gone to school in Scotland or lived there as a child.
Occasionally, Beau would loosen up. In warm weather, T-shirts exposed his broad shoulders and well-defined chest. His arms looked like he frequented the gym, and those stretch khakis he favored as office wear gave her a view of a sexy, tight ass. A couple of times, she’d peeked down his collar and glimpsed the silky blond hair on his chest. It was that teasing hint of smoldering physicality simmering just below a subdued surface that made her fantasies spin out of control. He looked completely capable of picking her up, carrying her into a quiet storage room, pressing her to the wall, and banging her senseless. Of course, he was too well-mannered to do such a thing but a girl could dream.
“Never underestimate the power of love.” Witch Casey winked as she popped the captured snake back into the basket.
Devon turned her attention to the woman standing in front of her. Had she been reading Devon’s mind?
“Your dilemma will not be hard to decide. You already know exactly what you want, and you don’t have to choose.”
Devon’s eyes widened.
Dear God, she can read my mind. I wonder if she saw all my dirty thoughts?
“I did, dear. Naughty time in the storage room? Trust me, you’re not the first to have that fantasy.” Witch Casey shrugged. “But don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me. Whenever I speak, I sound mad. No one believes me anyway.”
Chapter 3
Oakland, California, office of International Explorer Magazine
Devon returned to the office Friday morning feeling less than enthusiastic about having to come back a day before the weekend. Technically she was losing a vacation day, but it couldn’t be helped.
Today was a crisis day. The entire photo spread she’d planned for the next issue of International Explorer
had been axed for legal reasons, and she had to find a decent substitute fast.
At least her time in Salem with Arcona had been fun. It was always good to see her mom and be reassured that she was recovering well. Too bad the fun was over. She was whipped, and no amount of coffee seemed to help. Flying home on a red-eye and going directly to the office was killing her.
She clicked her phone and called Arcona.
Arcona picked up. “You’re a psychic! I was just getting ready to call you.”
Devon tapped away at the keyboard as she spoke. Image after shop-worn wildlife image flashed past. “Did you catch your flight and get home all right?”
Silence hung in the air. “I never got to the airport.” Arcona’s tone was sheepish.
“What?” Devon sounded more alarmed than she intended. “Is there a problem? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay now, but I had a pretty strange night.” The sound of a highway and a blaring truck horn drowned her out.
What was going on? “I hear traffic. Where are you?”
“I’m on the turnpike. I’m driving home to the West Coast, sort of an impromptu road trip.”
This was so unlike Arcona. Devon stopped clicking images to concentrate. “No airplane? You’re driving from Salem, Massachusetts, to Los Angeles? Do you know how long that will take? Are you crazy? Did you suddenly develop a fear of flying?”
“That’s the thing. After last night, I don’t have to be afraid of anything anymore!” Arcona sounded overtly cheerful. “I faced all my fears in a single night, and it was awesome. I know where my phobia of being persecuted and burned at the stake comes from. I understand all of it now. I can’t even describe how free I feel.”
Did Arcona sound a little dreamy, perhaps giddier than usual? It wasn’t at all like her, but could she be high? “That’s great.”
“It’s more than great. It’s life-changing! Listen to me, those weird witches in the Silver Moon Scrying Shoppe were telling the truth. They are the real deal. Be prepared for anything and everything. Keep an open mind. Hang on to that damn wish stone and treat it with respect.”
What was wrong with her friend? “I’m going to come out and just ask, are you driving high?”
“I’m not driving.” Arcona giggled. “Tyr is.”
Did she say Tear? “Who the hell is Tyr?”
Arcona’s voice was silken. “Tyr, say hello to Devon.”
“Hello, Devon.” A man’s deep voice, sexy as hell, rumbled through the phone.
Arcona returned. “Nice voice, huh? There’s more, a lot more. I’ll send you a picture later.”
She whispered, “Is ‘I’ll send you a picture later’ code for ‘I’ve been kidnapped. Please call 911’?”
“No, Devon, I’m fine.” Arcona laughed. “The kidnapping was last night. Today everything is okay. I just called to give you a heads-up about the wish stone. For God’s sake, take it seriously.”
“Okay. Whatever. I’m at the office all day, likely all night. Check in later and let me know everything is kosher with the strange man you just met in Salem and left on a cross-country trip with.” What the fuck was that about?
“I’ve got lots to tell.” Arcona sounded genuinely happy. “But I’ll save it for another time.”
The called ended.
Devon stared at the dark screen. What the hell? She returned to the task at hand. The morning dragged. She yawned from exhaustion as much as boredom. The reality of a job that had lost its creative edge was beginning to get to her. Hunched in front of her large-screen computer, she scrolled through thousands of wildlife photos, liking none of them. Most of the photos were immediately familiar and had already been used too many times in International Explorer’s magazine and television network promotions. “I should be looking at my own original photos. I need to get out of the office and work,” she muttered.
“It’s true. Those should be your photos.”
She swiftly turned. Beau looked directly at her with blue eyes that shimmered like the sea and an almost breathless expression on his face. “Good morning.” Stunned, she gulped a deep breath. “Everything’s fine in my workstation,” she mumbled. Holy crap, Beau was so gorgeous up close, and a bit taller than she remembered. “Believe it or not, I’m not having any IT problems, but the day is young. Anything could happen.”
Beau moved a little closer and offered a sweet smile. He carried the fresh, clean scents of pine forest and mint toothpaste. “Do we have to have an IT problem to say hello?”
She was shocked. Beau seldom initiated conversations. “Not at all.”
“I’ve seen your photography.” Beau glanced away shyly. “When I did the data retrieval on your crashed computer last summer, I saw all your photos.” A fiery blush crept up his cheeks. “I wasn’t spying or anything like that. I was just making sure the files would open for you.” He swallowed uncomfortably. “Your photographs of the Grand Canyon and the Moab desert are amazing.” Staring at his shoes, he appeared near the limit of this unusual burst of outgoingness. “I think you’re very talented and brave to fly over the canyons to get those pictures.”
Oh my God! Beau was talking to her, about her. This was a fabulous first. “I was pretty scared flying an ultralight that close to the rim.”
“That’s normal. Most people are scared of open-air flight until they get used to the feeling of hitting a warm updraft and soaring higher. It’s total freedom.” His face lit with excitement. “Once you’ve felt that, you’re hooked.”
All in all Beau was a dreamy guy, even if he might appear a bit sedate. She looked at the subdued urbanite, thinking it highly unlikely, but asked anyway. “You sound experienced. Have you flown an ultralight?”
He suddenly looked uneasy, and stepped away from her desk. “No.” His Scottishness really came through on the taciturn no.
Damn. There he goes, back into his shell like a startled turtle. Keep him talking. “Do you have a pilot’s license?”
Palpable discomfort rolled off Beau. “No.”
Well, what the hell was he talking about? “Have you flown in a glider, perhaps parasailed?”
“No.” His face grew redder.
“Hot air balloon?”
“No.”
Okay, they were going to play the shy person’s version of twenty questions. “I just got back from Salem, so I’ll take another angle. Do you fly on a broomstick?”
“No.” Beau laughed, exposing a charming dimple on the side of his brilliant smile.
She wanted to know more about Beau. He was something of an enigma. He spoke so little and never just wandered over to her desk simply to chat. If she missed this opportunity, it might never come again. “So tell me, how are you flying and catching those updrafts?”
Beau spread his arms wide, flapped them up and down, and screeched loudly like a pterodactyl.
People down the hall craned their necks to see what was going on in the art department.
Devon laughed out loud at Beau’s unexpected antics. This was so unlike the usually reserved man. Somebody must have spiked the poor guy’s coffee. Several coworkers rushed into her department to see what the commotion was about. “Oh my God! You’re a total geek.” The words blurted past her lips before she could stop herself.
Beau stopped flapping his arms and appeared sobered. “Is that what you think of me? I’m not a demigeek—I’m a total geek?”
She hated herself for misspeaking. Beau was such a nice guy. She didn’t want him to feel put down. “A geek’s not a bad thing in my book. I like a smart guy who knows his way around a tricky IT configuration.”
Beau grinned. A silky lock of hair slid in front of one eye. “Thanks.”
She had to save the situation and change the topic. Aside from discussing computer malfunctions, this was the longest conversation they had ever engaged in, and she wanted to keep the good vibe going. Dipping her hand into her jacket pocket, she felt for the wish stone, withdrew it, and presented the dual-colored stone to Beau. “Have you ever
seen a stone like this before?”
“I have.” Beau’s face lit with interest. He immediately reached for the stone and held it to the light. “If this is what I think it is, these stones are very rare. They’re called dragon eggs.” He whispered the words reverently. “Where did you get it?”
“A weird Wiccan shop in Salem.”
He leaned closer. “How did they get it?”
Devon lowered her voice. “I have no idea. This stone wasn’t the only oddity in the shop. Take my word on that.”
“They just handed you this stone?” Beau looked intrigued. “Were there any special instructions to go with it?”
“Yes, but the woman who gave it to me was a full-blown kook. She wanted me to return the stone to—”
“Mount Kilimanjaro?” Beau interrupted.
Devon gasped in surprise. “She wasn’t that specific. The witch at the shop merely said Africa, as if a continent so large is a single-stop destination.”
“Would you mind if I showed the stone to someone?” Beau’s fair brows leveled. “I’ll be very careful and return it to you immediately.”
“Who are you going to show it to?”
Beau’s gaze lowered. He became silent and seemed to be stalling. “I want to show it to Jace in production.”
Her face warmed at the sound of Jace’s name. “Why Jace?”
“He’s a friend.” Beau’s cheeks flushed such a bright pink, he looked tipsy. He broke eye contact with her. “Jace knows all about mythology, folk stories, all that kind of arcane stuff. I want to find out what he knows about dragon eggs.” He turned on his heel. “I’ll be right back.” He strode out of the art department and headed down a long hall.
Devon followed Beau with her gaze. That exchange was just too weird, and when had Jace and Beau become best buddies? They barely spoke to each other at work. Her mind drifted toward the tantalizing image of Jace and Beau together. One was dark and spicy, and the other was sweet, golden sunshine. Double yum.
It occurred to her that both of her dream men would be discussing her stone in a moment, and she wasn’t there to enjoy it. Why was she just standing here like a fool? After all, it was her stone, damn it. This was the perfect excuse to talk to her two favorite men during work hours for no real reason at all.
The Lady Prefers Dragons Page 4