by T. M. Cromer
“Alastair’s son, Nash, will be able to help you discover more.”
“The Cheirotonia Scroll isn’t the only ‘tool’ that will allow me to go through time?”
Aurora winked. “Now you’re getting it.” She turned and cocked her head. “Holly is returning. We should probably say our goodbyes. Otherwise, she might think you’re talking to yourself.”
“Wonderful,” he muttered.
“Take care of yourself, darling boy.”
“Thank you… for shedding light on my, er, gift.”
“It’s entirely my pleasure. Have a care tonight.”
“Do you see all in the Otherworld?”
“Enough. Be careful of Victor Salinger.” And with that, she was gone. Her disappearing coincided with Holly sailing through the door.
“Did I hear you talking with someone?”
His gaze was drawn to Aurora’s stasis-prone form. “I’m embarrassed to admit, I held a similar conversation with your mother as you did earlier.”
Holly placed a hand over his heart. Did she feel the rapid beat? He wasn’t quite certain he was over his initial fright from seeing a ghost appear, even if that spirit was friendly in nature.
“I think it’s sweet. I’m sure if she were here, my mother would appreciate it.”
“We should get going.” He wrapped her in a tight hug and visualized his hotel room. As his cells harnessed magic for their teleport, he cast one last glance in Aurora’s direction. He’d pass on her last wish to Alastair. It was the least he could do.
While Holly went to change her clothes, Quentin approached Alastair and Nash. “May I have a word with you both?”
“What’s going on, son?”
“You’re not going to believe this. Hell, I’m not sure I believe it and I was there.”
Nash, always seemingly a step ahead of everyone, said, “Spit it out, Quentin. You only have a few minutes if you don’t want Holly in on this.”
“I saw the spirit of Aurora.”
There was an audible inhalation of air by Alastair.
“Come again,” Nash replied.
“I saw the spirit of Aurora when Holly left the room to tell your butler we were leaving. She spoke to me.”
Alastair presented his back and stared from the large floor-to-ceiling window out over the darkening landscape. “What did she say?”
Did Quentin imagine he heard a tremble in the older man’s deep voice? For sure there was a raw edge to the question.
“She wants you to let her go.”
The reflection in the glass showed Alastair’s overwhelming shock at the news. His eyes closed tightly, and his mouth firmed.
“Is that all?” Nash asked quietly.
“No. She said I was a Traveler, and that you might know more about that.”
Nash shook his head in wonder. “Of course. I’ve come across the term in a couple of the older book collections I’ve explored, but I’ve never known a Traveler. I thought they were made up—similar to unicorns.”
Quentin cast a worried glance at the eerily still Alastair. “Sir? Are you okay?”
Alastair gave a sharp nod but remained silent.
Allowing Alastair his privacy, Quentin turned his back and addressed Nash. “Do you think you could help me discover more about this whole Traveler thing?”
“Before tonight? Not likely. But from what I have read, there are magical artifacts that help you move through time and worlds.”
“Worlds?” He asked sharply. He thought about the garden Athena had taken him to during their brief time together. “Aurora only said time and space.”
“I could be wrong. It’s been a while, and I don’t know how accurate the translation of the text was.”
“Is there a list of these artifacts? I mean, is it possible to utilize a different one to stop Beau and Michelle in order for Alastair to get what he needs to revive Aurora?”
Nash poured himself another dram of whiskey and held up the bottle. When Quentin waved away the offer, Nash said, “No list. I have a few items in storage that might be useful, but they’re untested. Do you have time to chance it?”
“No.” Quentin expelled a heavy sigh. Their time crunch didn’t allow for other options. Joining Alastair at the window, he said, “She seems happy to be in the Otherworld, sir. She wanted me to tell you what happened wasn’t your fault.”
Alastair ran a hand over the lower half of his face, as if to hold back the words he longed to say. With a small nod of acknowledgment, he continued to stare into the distance.
“What can I do to help? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
“There’s nothing you can do now, son.” The gruff tone spoke of heartbreak. “But I thank you. You should get ready for the gala. You don’t want to keep Holly waiting.”
“I’m sorry.”
The dark indigo eyes Alastair turned on him were three shades darker than his normal iris color and devoid of emotion. Without a doubt, the man was in pain.
“I know. It’s all right.” Alastair held up his hand to show a pinky ring with a bluish-purple stone. “Holly is wearing a tanzanite necklace to match my ring. This allows us to communicate telepathically. Make sure she doesn’t take it off.” He cleared the remaining emotion from his throat. “When you get to the museum, find an out-of-the-way room and snap pictures to send to me. I need a clear space in the event I need to teleport as backup.”
“Will that be necessary?”
“I’ve already warned you about Victor Salinger. Don’t underestimate him, boy.”
“I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Holly entered the room, drawing their attention. Her beauty almost drove Quentin to his knees to pay homage. Her pale sea foam dress showed enough cleavage to make a man’s mouth water, but preserved her modesty at the same time. The sequins reflected the light with every step she took toward him. The coppery tresses he adored were swept to one side to reveal the column of her long, creamy neck.
Quentin wanted nothing more than to usher her back into his room and lock the world away.
“You’re not dressed yet?” Her eyes darted between the men. “Was there a change of plans?”
“No change, love. We were discussing information that came to light about my elemental magic.”
“Like what?”
“I’ll explain in the car on the way.” Quentin faced Nash. “Did you arrange for a ride?”
“I did.”
“Thank you. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.” To Holly, he said, “Keep your father company for a little bit.” With a side glance toward Alastair, he leaned in to whisper, “He’s worried. Try to distract him a bit, huh?”
Holly shifted her head for their lips to meet. After a soft, lingering kiss, she nodded.
Chapter 18
The museum gala was in full swing by the time their limo pulled up to the curb. Nash exited first, followed by Quentin and Holly. As they made their way up the stairs, she touched the stone at her throat.
“How’s our connection, Dad?”
“Strong as ever, child.”
“Don’t drink all the scotch before we get back.”
“I can conjure more.”
She smiled as she dropped her hand to her side.
“The sperm donor talking in your ear?” Nash murmured in an aside.
“Yes. He intends to drink all your Glenfiddich.”
Nash clasped her hand before he spoke. “That bastard.”
With a light laugh, she squeezed his fingers. “I thought I was the only one getting off on swearing without an invasion of wildlife.”
“I could get used to this. I should have our cousin Liz design amulets that keep us connected so we can swear like normal people.”
“Goddess, no! Please!” Quentin cut in. “She’ll be cussing people out left and right.”
With a mock scowl, she pinched his arm. “Not funny.”
“I’m not kidding. Your violent tendency to pinch and punch is bad enough.”
“You p
oor baby.” With a rub of his abused arm, she whispered suggestively, “Remind me to kiss it and make it better later tonight.”
“Promises, promises.”
Nash gave an exaggerated shudder. “Eww. I’m still within hearing distance.”
They paused ten feet from the door. Holly reached up to straighten Nash’s bow tie as a guise to address both men. “Are we all clear on the game plan? Quentin and I will occupy Selene, and you will search out the vault with the magical artifacts. Once you find the room, text Quentin. He can use the excuse of going to the restroom to meet you while I keep our hostess distracted.”
“When I’ve made the switch with the fake parchment Alastair gave me, I’ll text you. We’ll meet by the entrance. If we get separated, teleport into the limo or—worst-case scenario—back to the hotel suite,” Quentin reiterated from their earlier planning session.
Nash snagged her wrist before Holly could move away. “If Salinger approaches you, you get away from him asap, got it?”
“I won’t take any unnecessary risks.”
“That wasn’t a yes, sister.”
“It’s all you’ll get from me, Nash.”
“You’re such a stubborn little—”
Holly jerked her arm from his grasp before he could blast her with the word “bitch.” With a wicked grin, she entwined her arm through Quentin’s and directed them toward the main doors.
“… Biotch!”
“Nice substitution, brother. Personally, I was hoping for a cute little trash panda to cuddle. Oh! Maybe I could make one my familiar.”
“Knock it off. We have a job to do,” Quentin reminded them.
His warning was well-timed. Selene stood twenty feet inside the entrance, greeting guests and patrons of the museum. When she saw their group, she excused herself to head their way.
“I’m delighted you could make it.” Grabbing Holly’s hands, Selene air kissed each side of Holly’s cheeks. “Welcome.”
After she pulled away, she sized up Quentin. “I didn’t realize you were so tall, Mr. Buchanan.”
Wanting to move Selene’s overly interested attention away from Quentin, Holly cleared her throat and dragged Nash forward. “This is my half-brother, Nash Thorne. He works for the American branch of the Witches’ Council.”
Selene’s eyes slowly ran the entire length of Nash’s tall, lanky frame. “A pleasure,” she murmured, holding her hand out to him.
“The pleasure is all mine.”
Her brother’s sudden shift into a debonair playboy nearly threw Holly for a loop. She’d never seen him as anything but serious, surly, or sarcastic. “Crap! I threw up a little in my mouth.”
The first to burst into genuine laughter was Selene. Her irises lightened by a shade as she gazed at Holly. “If you lived in Athens, we’d be the best of friends. I’m certain of it.” Her attention was caught by someone beyond Holly’s shoulder. All humor left her face, leaving her countenance an impersonal mask. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s a guest I must speak with.” As she moved to pass, she whispered, “The item you seek is in a small chamber off the north hall. I would wrap up your business as quickly as possible, if I were you.”
Their eyes locked in a brief moment of understanding before she continued on her way.
As one, their group turned to watch her sashay her way toward an imposing auburn-haired figure surrounded by what could only be his security detail.
“Do you think they know how ridiculous they look wearing mirrored sunglasses inside?” Holly asked her two companions.
Nash was the first to turn away, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray. “I don’t think either they or Victor care much. We should go before he gets curious about us.”
Quentin plucked two more glasses from the same tray and handed one to Holly. “Yep, discretion is the better part of valor. Isn’t that the way it goes?”
“Did either of you hear what she said? It’s like she knows we are here for the scroll regardless of the fact that I told her we weren’t earlier today.”
“Obviously, she didn’t believe you,” Nash said.
Holly casually took a sip of her drink. “Should that make me nervous?”
“Oddly enough, I get the impression she likes you, sister. I don’t know why she would help you though. Incurring the wrath of the Désorcelers is a death sentence.”
“Maybe she’s trying to set us up instead,” Quentin suggested. With a hand on Holly’s lower back, he guided her toward the northernmost part of the building. “But if there is a chance she was trying to help, we should at least check it out.”
“You and Nash go. I’ll pretend interest in the historical pieces here and alert you if anyone comes your way.”
“I’m not comfortable leaving you alone, love.”
“With the two of you searching, you’re likely to find it faster. I don’t think I’ll get into trouble with two hundred people mingling about, do you?”
“Okay, but keep a hand on your necklace to let your father listen in.”
“I can do that.” The worried lines on Quentin’s face didn’t detract from his masculine beauty. Quite the opposite. Seeing his concern and love made him more attractive to her. She reached up and smoothed the groove between his brows. “I love you, Quentin Buchanan.”
He ducked his head and captured her mouth in a sweet, clinging kiss. “And I love you, Holly Anne Thorne. Stay safe.”
“That’s the plan.”
After they’d gone, she chanced a glance over her shoulder to where she’d last seen Victor. He didn’t look pleased with Selene. In fact, they appeared deep in a heated discussion.
As if he sensed her regard, he lifted his head to stare in her direction. Her heart rate doubled. Caught, Holly smiled politely and raised her glass before turning away. So much for that plan to stay safe. Quentin was going to murder her for attracting Victor’s notice.
She wasn’t surprised when Victor spoke from beside her only a short while later.
“I couldn’t help but notice you. It isn’t every day that an incredibly beautiful woman toasts you.”
Holly’s hand crept to the necklace at her throat. She wrapped her hand around the stone. “Yes, well, I wanted to ask Selene about donating to her charity but didn’t want to interrupt. You happened to catch me glancing that way. It seemed rude to not acknowledge you.”
Victor’s eyes crinkled with his evil delight. “Of course.”
“Get the hell away from him, Holly!”
The smile Holly gave Victor had to scream fake. “If you’ll excuse me, I see a friend. I must say hello.”
“I’m hurt that you desire to run away, Ms. Thorne.”
“You have me at a disadvantage. I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”
“I’m an old friend of your father’s. You should ask him about me.”
“Fuck!”
She jerked at the emphatic swearing on the other side of her telepathic connection. Alastair wasn’t given to displays of that nature.
“Should I simply describe you when I see him, since you haven’t properly introduced yourself yet?” she asked archly.
The air crackled around them, and Holly glanced about, wondering who might have caused the disturbance in the Force. When her father stepped from behind a column dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo, she didn’t bat an eyelash. Why should she be surprised when it was obvious how much he detested Victor?
“Well, Alastair Thorne, as I live and breathe. Come to take your little duckling back to the nest?” Victor taunted.
Alastair put a hand on Holly’s shoulder. The arctic smile he gave Victor chilled her to the bone. In a casual tone laced with frost, he said. “Go fuck yourself, Victor. Stay away from my daughter, or I will unleash a hell on you the likes of which you’ve never seen before.”
“I’ve seen you stripped bare and writhing in pain, Alastair. Your threats seem empty.”
The blatant reference to the time when Alastair was held captiv
e in Zhu Lin’s dungeon was meant to draw blood. The champagne in Victor’s glass began to steam, and he quickly set it on a side table.
“Try me. I don’t have magical shackles binding me this time, Salinger.”
The air fairly sizzled between the two men. If hatred had a smell, it would easily overwhelm the room and send people running for the open air outdoors.
“Even you wouldn’t dare conjure magic here, Thorne. Not in a place protected by the Council.”
“As if I’ve ever given two shits about Council rules.”
Victor smiled in triumph. It was as if by saying the words, Alastair had played right into his hands.
A shiver of unease chased down Holly’s spine, and she covered the hand on her shoulder. “Let’s explore, father. There are a lot of wonderful items to see.”
The two adversaries stood locked in a battle of wills. Neither wanted to be the first to give any concession.
Quentin’s arrival allowed Holly to breathe a sigh of relief. His arm encircled her from behind as Alastair’s dropped to his side.
“Making friends, love?”
While she had felt protected by her father’s presence, the solid feel of Quentin’s large frame at her back made her relax. “I’m afraid I’m attracting people my father doesn’t approve of.”
“Well, no offense, Hol, but you do seem to attract the riff-raff.”
Victor’s dark eyes shot fire at the insult.
“Be careful who you insult, Mr. Buchanan.”
“I’m always careful who I insult, Mr. Salinger.”
Holly dug her nails into Quentin’s hand in warning. The gesture attracted Victor’s notice. His smile was heavily laced with contempt.
“You do seem to attract the riff-raff as Mr. Buchanan so eloquently stated. If you should ever decide to stop slumming and date a real man, give me a call.”
Although not audible, Quentin’s low growl reverberated inside her. She tightened her grasp on his arm and leaned back into him.
“Quentin is as far from slumming as it gets, Mr. Salinger. I won’t be trading him in anytime soon.”
Quentin pulled her closer.