Rekindled Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  “I’m after the Magic Sphere of Helios. I believe it is on display at the Acropolis Museum?”

  Selene’s dark eyes lost any semblance of friendliness. “You’re lying.”

  “I thought we established that I’m a terrible liar.”

  “I’ve been told Alastair Thorne is trying to resurrect Aurora Fennell-Thorne. He’ll need the scroll to do it.”

  “Actually, he doesn’t. The last item on his list is the Helios. It’s supposed to work in conjunction with the other artifacts he’s collected. Or at least according to our source, it will.”

  “Your source?”

  “Don’t you dare tell her Isis is your source, Holly Anne!”

  “Yes. Well, it’s more like my father’s source. I don’t have a source. Never spoken to a source really.” Holly found herself becoming warm under Selene’s hawk-like scrutiny. Babbling was a direct result of the lies crossing Holly’s lips. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she was a terrible liar. Or she was when her father’s voice was thundering in her brain.

  Holly bolted to her feet. “Uh, I have to go. Quentin will be wondering where I am by now. He was going to meet me at the Acropolis Museum.”

  Selene rose in one graceful motion. “We are having a fundraising gala here tonight. You may have noticed the banner and the red carpet at the front of the building. I’d be delighted if you and Mr. Buchanan would be my guests tonight.”

  How was she expected to decline?

  “You’re not. Accept her invitation with dignity and depart at once.”

  “Sure. I accept. Uh, is there a will-call?”

  “Will-call?”

  “A ticket window.”

  Selene’s amusement was back. “I’ll be sure to have an attendant keep an eye out for you and your delightful companion.” Her discerning gaze ran the length of Holly’s form, taking in her capri pants, V-neck shirt, and sandals. “The gala is black-tie. Would you like me to recommend a boutique?”

  “No need. I’ve got it covered. I’m all about the black-tie parties.”

  Alastair groaned in her head.

  “Until tonight, Holly Thorne.”

  “Actually, it’s Hill. I… never mind, I was planning to change it anyway.” What the hell was wrong with her? She practically caved under the pressure.

  “You did well, child. Now do me a favor and get the hell out of there.”

  “Well, at least there is one good thing about telepathy—no sneezing when we cuss.”

  Alastair’s laughter echoed through the connection. “You’re incorrigible, dear girl. Completely incorrigible.”

  Chapter 15

  Alastair’s arrival heralded no surprise for Holly. His expression was one of long-suffering when he asked, “What were you thinking, child?”

  “Obviously, she wasn’t,” Nash snapped.

  Quentin’s quiet watchfulness was truly the thing that made her the most nervous. Their new bond was tentative at best, and she had no desire to destroy it. She ignored her father and brother to cross to Quentin’s side. “Are you mad at me?”

  “No, love. We were the idiots who excluded you and pissed you off. I should’ve anticipated you’d run off to confront Selene.”

  “That wasn’t my intent.”

  He raised a questioning brow.

  “Well, not entirely,” she amended. “I thought if I could get the layout of the museum, I could help get a jump on your mission tonight.”

  “Uh, huh. Where is the copy of the layout?”

  “I never made it past the café.”

  Quentin’s grin eased the tightness in her chest. “It’s always about food with this family.”

  “The baklava was to die for.”

  When he lightly ran a finger down her nose, Holly knew he’d forgiven her impulsiveness.

  “I’m hurt you didn’t bring me any.” He leaned down to drop a light kiss on her smiling mouth. “It’s a good thing there is a PDF of the layout available on the museum website.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “That’s like giving a roadmap to all the thieves out there.”

  “Like us?” he laughed.

  “We aren’t thieves. We are procurers of magical artifacts.”

  Again, Quentin laughed. “Never change, Hol. You are perfect exactly the way you are.”

  Tears burned her eyes as she stared up at him. He meant the words he’d spoken. Truly meant that, in his eyes, she was perfect.

  “Pussy-whipped.” Nash sandwiched his insult between coughs.

  “I’m going to blast him to the Arctic,” she muttered.

  “Not until after you retrieve the scroll. You’re going to need him,” Alastair warned.

  “I thought Nash said you wanted us to abort the mission?” Holly asked.

  Her father met her question with a wry look. “When have you ever done anything I demanded of you, child?”

  Because he was right, Holly changed the subject. “Selene mentioned the gala tonight and invited us to attend.” Her comment brought all the men up short.

  “She invited us?” The blatant disbelief in Nash’s voice was obvious to one and all.

  “Well, not you. She invited me and Quentin. I didn’t ask about you because you work for the Council. I assumed you could get your own ticket.” She bit her lip to stem her laugh. Nash’s dismayed look was comical. With a dismissive wave of her hand, she faced Quentin. “We need to go to the Acropolis Museum, like right now.”

  At his confused look, she explained. “I sort of told Selene we were after an artifact from there.”

  “Ah, yes. Your dad said as much. But why do we need to go to the Acropolis?”

  “Because I said I was supposed to meet you there. If Selene has people watching us, I don’t want to be caught in a lie.” She cast an uneasy glance around the room. “Did anyone think to ward these suites against scrying?”

  “I put a spell in place for my room when I first arrived,” Quentin assured her. “You?”

  “I didn’t think to,” she confessed.

  “I took care of that when I got here,” Nash informed her. “I figured you were too distracted.”

  “Thank you.” To Quentin, she asked, “Should we go?”

  “Teleporting in such a busy city is foolish,” Nash warned.

  “It was my intent to hail a cab. Like I did today.” She scowled her ire. “Stop treating me as if I was born yesterday.”

  In a move that surprised her, Nash stepped in and hugged her. “I made the assumption that you were not well-traveled or wise to the ways of the world, sister. I’m sorry. I should know you possess enough common sense to be useful to the cause. I was being an asshat.” His sudden grin was a thing of beauty. “I absolutely love that I can swear and not call all the trash pandas on the continent.”

  “I don’t know. I think you got the best of all of us. Summer has rodents. Mine isn’t much better with birds. Our father has locusts. Raccoons are cute and cuddly.”

  “Unless they are rabid,” Alastair deadpanned.

  “Are you staying for the gala, Dad? It would set the Witches’ Council on their collective ear.”

  “Your mother’s health is failing, child. I don’t wish to be away from her unless it’s necessary. I came here today to warn you against becoming too friendly with Selene.” With a sharp look in Quentin’s direction, Alastair continued. “It’s long been believed that she works for Victor Salinger.”

  “In case we should happen to encounter him, what does Victor look like?”

  “Tall, maybe six-two or three. Clean shaven. Deep auburn hair and dark brown eyes. I suppose to the opposite sex he is considered extremely attractive. With his English accent, he even comes across as exceedingly charming, but he’s dangerous, Holly. Never make the mistake of thinking that he has an ounce of humanity.”

  “English? Selene told me her father was English. Do you suppose there is a deeper connection there than the standard cohorts? I mean, Barringer and Salinger
. Granted they are different names, but still coincidental that they both end in -inger, don’t you think?”

  Keeping his thoughtful eyes on her, Alastair turned his head slightly to address Nash. “Have you ever thought to check their family trees?”

  “Other than Victor, no. You should know, if you don’t already, he descends from the Goddess Serqet’s line. He once had a half-sister, but she supposedly died at a young age.”

  “Supposedly?” Quentin asked.

  “His father remarried when Victor was about ten. The marriage ended in divorce after the couple’s young daughter disappeared. She was presumed dead.”

  “What happened to Barringer’s ex-wife?”

  “She changed her name and moved here to Greece. A few years later, she adopted a daughter. But the ex-wife and her adopted daughter were killed in a house fire six months after the adoption was finalized.”

  “And Selene’s family history?” Alastair asked.

  “We’ve never been able to dig anything up on her. The Council has her records on lockdown.”

  Alastair looked grim. “I’ve never been able to dig up anything on her either, which is unusual in itself. Normally, a simple scrying spell will allow me to dig into the past, but hers is blocked.”

  To Holly, this revelation was astounding. “You said she was linked to Victor. In what way? Lover, employee, spy, all of the above?”

  “Never as a lover that we know of. She is simply his source of information. She feeds him tidbits about the Council business and on occasion, an artifact or two winds up in his hands.”

  “Is it possible his sister never really died? Who was the child that the ex-Mrs. Barringer adopted? Could it have been a ruse to get her own child away from a dangerous situation?”

  “But the body of a girl was found in the burned-out ruins of her home,” Nash informed her.

  “I guess we’ll never know unless we ask Selene herself,” Holly said.

  Quentin wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Not a good idea, Hol. You need to stay as far away from Selene and Victor as possible. I don’t need the gray hairs that would come from you tangling with them.”

  “It’s too late since I’ve accepted her invite for tonight.”

  His heavy sigh ruffled her hair.

  “Don’t worry, Quentin, I promise not to take unnecessary risks.”

  “I’d prefer you didn’t take any risks, love.”

  “It’s all going to work out, remember? You always get the scroll and save me.”

  “What did you say?” Alastair’s sharp question startled them apart. “What do you mean he saves you? From what?”

  Her hand found Quentin’s, and she wove her fingers with his in unity. “That would be from the stabbing seven years ago.”

  She’d never seen her father shell-shocked before, but there he stood in a stunned stupor, staring at the two of them as if he’d just heard the world was ending and they only had ten more minutes to live. His face grayed.

  “Dad?”

  “The rumor is that the magic of the scroll can only be used one time in every hundred years,” Alastair finally managed as he sat down heavily in a nearby armchair.

  The impact of his words had Holly sinking down onto the leather sofa since her legs would no longer support her. Quentin could use the scroll to go back in time to save her, or he could hand it over to Alastair to save Aurora. There were no other options. And yet, if they’d truly been here before, Quentin always chose her over her mother.

  Holly’s eyes sought Quentin. He was as serious as she’d ever seen him as he addressed Alastair. “It’s no contest, sir. I will always rescue Holly.”

  Alastair closed his eyes, expression resigned. “As you should, son. As you should.”

  “No!” Holly sprang to her feet and shoved past Quentin to kneel by her father’s chair. “No, Daddy. He should help Mother. He said it himself; over three hundred times he’s saved me, and nothing has changed. We still find ourselves in the same ugly time loop.” The sensation of inevitability caught up to her, and she placed a hand on his knee. “Maybe I was never meant to survive that damned stabbing.”

  The swift surge of fury from Alastair charged the atmosphere around them. The air crackled with angry energy as he gripped her arms and shook her. “Never say that. Do you hear me? Never!”

  Holly stared in shocked wonder at this side of her father. Not once had she seen him in such a rage. Part of her feared him in that moment. Her alarm must have shown because he released her arms to cup her face.

  “I’m sorry, Sprite. Forgive me?”

  Her father hadn’t called her “Sprite” in what seemed like forever. All the emotions she’d suppressed over the years slammed into her. The hurt, anger, loneliness, and most importantly, the love, fought for supremacy. A harsh sob tore from her throat. Alastair gathered her close as she buried her face in his warm neck. She let loose all the buried pain and allowed her father to comfort her in a way she hadn’t tolerated since she was a small child.

  Inside, her tougher persona squirmed. These emotional outbursts were getting out of control, and yet, her tears refused to be stemmed. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t cried in well over nine years. Not since the night she was tricked into believing Quentin had cheated. Now, it seemed as though she cried at the drop of a hat.

  Somewhere, in the back of her subconscious, she was aware of Quentin and Nash exiting the room.

  “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Her father rocked her while she cried. The raw, husky quality to his voice betrayed his own strong emotions.

  When she could finally manage to speak, she drew back and stared up into his ravaged face. She imagined she looked far worse. “How do we bring her back?”

  “I don’t know. I truly don’t know now.”

  “Can we summon Isis? She could tell us.”

  “We cannot ask her, child.” He lovingly smoothed back her hair. “She would demand a sacrifice. What more does our family have to offer? Haven’t I put everyone through enough at this point? Your sisters…” His mouth tightened into a firm line. “I think it’s time we accept what was fated.”

  It was the crack in Alastair’s voice that did it. It killed her to see him so wrecked. “No, Dad. I have no intention of accepting what is fated. I’m going to find another object to help her, or Quentin can find another to go back for me. But this isn’t the end for either of us.” She didn’t tell him that she was for saving her mother at this point. Aurora and Alastair had been parted long enough, and for all the work that her father had put in to ensure the happiness of her sisters, he damned well deserved a happy ending himself.

  “I know that look, my dear girl. You are up to no good.”

  Did his voice hold an underlying weariness?

  “You know me too well. But I promise to take care with my schemes this time.”

  His mouth twisted in a semblance of a smile. “Fair enough.” He rose and helped her to stand. “Glamour away your upset and get your behind to the Acropolis Museum before Selene realizes you lied.”

  “I suspect she already knows I lied since I suck at it, but yeah, I’ll go do that now. Will you tell Quentin I’d like to speak to him before you head back home?”

  “Certainly.”

  Holly clasped his large hand between both of hers and drew it to her cheek. “I love you, Dad. I always have, even when I was being a little shit.”

  “I love you, too. And I suspect you are enjoying cursing without consequence a bit too much,” he said wryly. “Take care of yourself. If you don’t, I’ll blame Quentin. I know how much you love him and would hate to see him come to harm at my hand.”

  “Not fair!”

  “I never claimed to be, Sprite. Not once.”

  He strode over to the bed and held out his hand, palm down. A blinding gold light filled the space between his palm and the comforter. Within seconds, the light morphed into a brilliant sapphire before it disappeared altogether.

  On the bed was a sequined eve
ning gown in the most breathtaking shade of sea foam green.

  “Is that for me?”

  “I doubt it will fit Quentin.”

  “Alastair Thorne has jokes! Who knew?” she teased.

  “Adjust the length of the tanzanite necklace by about two inches for it to sit higher on your décolletage. I suggest a sweep of your hair to one side with a diamond clip. You’ll find one there beside the dress.”

  “I’ve never had much call to dress up.”

  “I know. It’s why I provided you with the basic tools. You can conjure your own shoes for comfort purposes. Silver Cinderella Slippers like the ones Stuart Weitzman designed would be the thing.”

  “How do you know about women’s attire?”

  A wolfish grin transformed his face. “Just because I’m on a diet, doesn’t mean I can’t look at the menu. I appreciate a beautiful woman as much as the next man.”

  “I’m so telling Mom.”

  His laughter could be heard long after he left her suite.

  Chapter 16

  As Quentin absent-mindedly spoke with Nash, he mentally replayed the earlier scene in the bedroom. Alastair’s devastation had been hard to witness. The choice between the love of his life or his daughter was a no-brainer. Aurora was in stasis, and even with the scroll, there existed a very real chance of failure if they tried to revive her. On the other hand, getting to Holly in time to save her from a fatal stabbing was not only possible, it was assured.

  As the one tasked with retrieving the ancient artifact, Quentin would never be able to turn it over to Alastair if he refused to put Holly first.

  He hadn’t known the scroll could only be used once within a hundred-year time period. That was one little factoid Athena had failed to mention to him last night. Still, it was one that made no sense. Based on the Goddess’s revelation, Quentin had returned over three-hundred times. There was no possible way those times were a hundred years apart. The math didn’t add up. Could he find a way to summon Athena before tonight to discover the truth?

  When Nash’s words trailed off, Quentin glanced behind him. Alastair looked as serious and defeated as Quentin had ever seen him.