Rekindled Magic

by T. M. Cromer

With a keen eye and a slight smirk, Salinger studied them. “No, I can see why you wouldn’t when he is easily led about by you. Still, the offer of a real man stands.”

  Their group waited in silence until Victor was too far away to hear them. Without taking his eyes from Salinger’s back, Alastair let loose his fury. “Tell me, boy, why would you ever leave her alone when you knew our worst enemy was in the room?”

  “Dad—”

  “I entrusted you with her care, and yet you willfully ignored my warning about Victor.”

  Other than to wrap his other arm around her, Quentin remained motionless and silent.

  Holly refused to allow Alastair to take out his anger on him. “You’re being completely unfair to Quentin, Dad. You’re the one who assigned him the task of finding the scroll. You can’t berate him for doing as you requested when I was perfectly safe in a roomful of witnesses.”

  Alastair turned his disbelieving stare on her. “Safe? What about Victor do you consider safe, Holly Anne?”

  “I’m not fool enough to believe he’s an angel, but neither did I believe he would attempt to hurt me inside a Council stronghold.”

  For a long moment, her father said nothing. The change in him was like night and day when it happened. All his anger dissipated, and he cast her a wry smile. “Forgive me. Old wounds and all.”

  “I think Quentin’s the one you should ask for forgiveness.”

  Alastair’s smile widened, and he acknowledged her words by holding out his hand to Quentin. “Please forgive me, son. I was a bit overcome.”

  “If we are being honest, my heart stopped when I felt the atmospheric change signaling your arrival. I was certain something terrible had happened to Holly.” He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “It’s all well and good. Tell me you got what you came for.”

  “No, sir. I suspect the original item was already swapped for another.”

  “Explain.”

  “The item listed as the Cheirotonia Scroll in the display case isn’t what we are looking for.”

  “I told you it would be in the vault, boy. Do you never listen?”

  “Dad!”

  Alastair grimaced. “Again, my apologies.”

  “Nothing to forgive, sir. I had hoped a museum worker was careless and put the original on display.” Quentin shrugged as if it were no skin off his back. “Nash is still looking for the vault. While you told me it exists on the premises and gave me the spell to unlock it, you never gave me an indication where the damned thing was located.”

  “Because it is always shifting locations,” Alastair answered simply.

  “What does that mean?” Holly demanded. “It’s never in the same room?”

  “Exactly. I had hoped you would be able to obtain the information from the lovely Selene, but…” Alastair tugged at his cuffs and shrugged.

  “You underestimated your daughter,” Quentin laughed. “Speaking of Selene, she’s heading this way.”

  Holly shifted to welcome the newcomer. “Selene, this is my father—”

  “Alastair Thorne,” her father said smoothly as he held out his hand.

  Eyes round with wonder, Selene slipped her hand in his. For once, her blatant sexuality was banked. One had to assume it was the awe of meeting a legend of Alastair’s magnitude.

  “Mr. Thorne,” she breathed.

  “Dad, this is Selene Barringer. She’s the curator of the museum and head of the Greek branch of the Witches’ Council.” Holly performed the introductions as if they weren’t all well aware of who Selene was.

  Raising Selene’s hand to his lips, Alastair placed a light kiss on her knuckles. “Charmed.”

  “I can see where your children get their looks.”

  A jaunty grin was Alastair’s response, and even Holly had to blink in wonder. When had she ever seen this side of her father? Probably never. “Should you two get a room?” Holly snarked.

  Selene’s breathy laugh caught the attention of those closest to them—Victor included. His scowl sobered her in an instant. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Thorne. I must go, but may I put you down for a sizable donation for the children’s home? This particular gala is to raise funds for a charity near and dear to my heart.”

  “Not to be callous, but why does a children’s home warrant your attention?”

  Holly gasped. Leave it to her father to dive right in and get to the truth.

  Selene patted Holly’s arm and smiled. “I’m not offended.” Selene cast a telling glance Victor’s way before she confided, “I was orphaned at a formative time in my life. I have a soft spot for others like me.”

  “I’m sorry, Selene.” And Holly truly was. She’d lost her own mother to stasis at a time in her life when she needed her the most.

  Selene’s earnest, dark eyes locked on Holly. “It’s why I intend to help you,” she said in a low tone. “Deny it all you want, but I know what you are seeking and why. You have less than one hour before the vault shifts positions. The current location is in the northernmost chamber of the museum. In order to find it, you need a reverse cloaking spell.”

  She held out a hand to Holly, who took it without pausing to think. The crinkle of a folded square of paper caught her attention. She didn’t dare look down. Instead, she shook Selene’s hand and withdrew.

  “Thank you, Selene. Should you ever need anything in return, all you need do is ask.”

  “As I said, you and I would have been great friends. Good luck, Holly.”

  Chapter 19

  As one, they watched Selene disappear into the crowd. They continued their pretext of partygoers for another ten minutes to throw off suspicion. Alastair removed a card from his pocket, jotted a note, and asked a waiter to give it to Selene at his first opportunity.

  “What did you write down?”

  “It was the number for my business manager and a promise for one million dollars for her charity.”

  Holly stared in disbelief. “Is it crass to ask how much my own father is worth?”

  “You can ask, but until my death, you won’t find out. Which is to say, don’t do anything to hasten my demise, all right?”

  “I think you just told me I’m in the will. We’re all good.” She bit her lip to hold back a laugh. “Besides, I know you never took away my trust fund.”

  His deep chuckle made her smile in return. “You could have made a withdrawal from your account at any time.”

  Quentin’s head whipped around, and his mouth dropped open. “Trust fund? If she had a trust fund, why the hell was she waitressing at that dive?”

  “Because it irritated my father,” she quipped. “It gave me great pleasure to see him scowl every time he walked through the doors to the diner or was forced to drink the mud they call coffee.”

  When Alastair’s gaze connected with Quentin and the men laughed, she demanded to know the joke.

  Quentin obliged her. “Your dad always magically altered the coffee to a more palatable drink. I was the idiot who always drank the ‘mud.’”

  “If you ever doubted he loved you, child, that should clear it up.”

  She bit her lip to hold back the laughter bubbling inside.

  “I think we’ve made a good show of it. You and Quentin find the vault. I’ll remain here to keep an eye on Salinger. Go check in with your brother. It’s been too long since anyone has heard from him.”

  Quentin guided her toward the north hall as she whipped out her smartphone and shot off a text to Nash.

  His response was instantaneous.

  “I think I’ve found it. Get here.”

  Holly pulled up the find-my-phone app that allowed her to track Nash’s location. They made a right turn down the corridor and entered the first room on the left.

  “I thought you’d never get back here,” he stated dryly.

  “Holly was schmoozing up to Victor. I had to bluster, bark, and piss to mark my territory.”

  Nash turned his head, but not before Holly saw his amused g
rin. “There’s an intermittent energy pulse coming from this corner. I tried a standard Council spell to unveil the source of the pulse, but it didn’t work.”

  “Try this.” Holly handed him the folded paper Selene had provided.

  After unfolding it, he shook his head. “This explains why I couldn’t do it on my own, there needs to be four of us.”

  “One sec.” Holly gripped the stone at her neck. “You’re needed. Second right past the curator’s office, first room on the left.”

  “I’ll be there momentarily.”

  “Dad’s on his way. What do we need to do to set up in the meantime?”

  “Here, conjure these top two items on the list. I’ll conjure the rest. Quentin, keep an eye out for trouble. It will follow Alastair.”

  Holly hiked up her gown above her knees and squatted. Closing her eyes, she held out her hands, palms facing downward, and conjured five large candles. Next, she envisioned a mortar and pestle for the herbs they would use. As she finished, Alastair stepped through the doorway and assisted her to her feet.

  “Is this all we need?”

  “According to Selene’s list, it is,” Nash confirmed. “Close the door and let’s take our places.”

  With a simple sweep of his arm, Alastair lifted the candles and set them around the perimeter of the circle. The wicks flickered to life.

  “Neat party trick,” Quentin muttered as he took his place beside her.

  “He knows how to do all the cool stuff,” Holly laughed.

  “Our time is limited. Join hands and let’s be done with this,” Alastair ordered.

  They all put on their serious faces and clasped hands.

  Nash cast the circle and recited the words he’d memorized from the paper.

  “Goddess, hear our plea,

  assist us in our time of need.

  Illuminate for us this item we seek.

  Lift the veil, to us the vault reveal.”

  The wall to Nash’s left shimmered and disappeared, revealing the vault door—an imposing ten feet high by eight feet wide.

  “I’m glad that worked. It was an embarrassing rhyme,” Holly said to no one in particular. “Whoever created that spell should be shot.”

  Quentin snorted beside her, and her father shot them both a quelling glance.

  “I’m just sayin’.”

  “Time to unlock this beast,” Nash declared. “Sperm Donor, do you want to do the honors?”

  Alastair shook his head and straightened his collar. “Be my guest. In all likelihood, it will be warded against me anyway. We don’t need a spell to backfire at this pivotal moment.”

  Nash spoke the words to disengage the locks, then stepped forward to swing the door wide.

  “I have to say, that was a much better spell,” Holly said in an aside to Quentin.

  “Yeah, I think there are a few wannabe poets on the Council. Let’s go.”

  “No!” Alastair warned. “Not all of us at once.”

  “He’s right.” Nash gestured Quentin forward. “It’s a fail-safe. If more than one person sets foot on that floor, a gas is released that will put us all out and seal the vault with us inside. Only a high official of the Council will be able to open the door. And you can only guess how many guards that official would have at their back.”

  “This might have been something you warned us about before now,” Quentin told him sourly. “What if it was only me and Holly here alone?”

  “You wouldn’t have been able to open the door, now would you?” Alastair mocked.

  Quentin’s dark brows clashed together as he glared at her father. From his pocket, he withdrew a manila envelope. He slid out the faux scroll, rolled it, and tied it with a frayed red ribbon he pulled from his pocket.

  “Think this will pass muster?”

  Holly shrugged. She didn’t know what the original artifact looked like, but this one looked authentically ancient. “Looks good to me.”

  “My understanding is that once I touch the scroll, I may be shot back in time. I don’t know if it’s instantaneous or not.” He shot a meaningful look at Alastair. “Don’t wait. If you have to leave me behind for the safety of everyone else, you do that.”

  Holly grabbed his sleeve. “No!”

  “I know better than to ask you, love. I’m relying on your father and Nash to get you to safety if things go wrong.”

  Quentin gathered her close and pressed her ear to his chest. “Hear that, Hol?” She nodded once as she listened to the fast thudding of his heart. “It beats only for you.” With one knuckle, he raised her chin as he bent his head. “Only for you.” In his kiss, she felt all the things left unsaid.

  He pulled away with a wink. “See you on the flip side, my prickly pear.”

  As goodbyes went, it was romantic as hell. She only hoped this was more of a “see you soon” than a forever goodbye.

  The second he stepped over the threshold to the vault, the massive door swung shut behind him with a resounding boom.

  “That wasn’t supposed to happen!” The alarmed look that took the place of Nash’s astonishment made Holly’s heart stop.

  “What do you mean that wasn’t supposed to happen?”

  “We need to get out of here,” Alastair informed them grimly.

  “No! No! I’m not leaving Quentin!”

  Father and son shared a resolute glance, and Holly knew they didn’t intend for her to have a say in the matter. She backed away as Nash charged for her.

  “No!”

  “Quiet,” Alastair hissed. “Listen. Someone’s coming, and I promise you, it’s not going to be pretty. Take your brother’s arm.”

  “I’m not leaving him.”

  Alastair strode purposely forward and touched a finger to her forehead. “Dormio.”

  Her world went black as her legs collapsed beneath her.

  * * *

  Alastair caught Holly before she hit the floor. “Take her home, son. I’ll clean up this mess.”

  “Father—”

  “Please, do as I say. Get her to safety. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Before he could blink, Nash and Holly were gone. He turned the lock on the door and swiped a hand over the circle, effectively closing it and removing the evidence of their arrival.

  He cast one last regretful look at the disappearing vault before he visualized Holly’s living room. One by one, his cells heated to burning, but when the warmth receded, he stood in the clearing by Thorne Manor.

  “What the devil?”

  Alastair spun in a circle and grabbed his head as a wave of dizziness washed over him. When he could get his bearings, he scanned the area around him.

  The energy in the clearing shifted, and as he watched, a tall young man with long, dark hair and a self-important swagger started in his direction.

  “Hello, Mr. Thorne. I’ve only got a few minutes. I need you to listen very carefully to what I have to say.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Quentin Buchanan, and as crazy as this sounds, I’ve come from the future to warn you.” When Alastair would have protested or, in all probability, blasted the arrogant pup back from whence he came, the man offered him a piece of paper. “You gave me this to give to you.”

  Cautiously, as if the note were a snake, Alastair reached for and unfolded it. His neat cursive was penned on the paper in front of him.

  “What day is today?” he demanded.

  “August twenty-third, two-thousand-eight. The day before I meet your daughter Holly. In order to save her life, I need you to stop that meeting from happening.”

  Chapter 20

  Quentin watched the play of emotions cross Alastair’s face as he explained the circumstances. His sympathy for Holly’s father kicked up a notch as he watched Alastair struggle to wrap his mind around the situation they found themselves in. To have your reality unexpectedly altered and a virtual stranger show up with a note—handwritten by yourself—that outlined things to come, had to be confusing as hell
and a little bit terrifying. Yet, the other man remained composed as if this type of situation happened every day.

  “The long and short of it is that I love your daughter, sir. Enough that, in the future when faced with the necessity of walking away to save her life, I’ll do it.”

  Alastair raised fathomless blue eyes from the paper in his hand to study Quentin. “To clarify, in another timeline, you will meet my daughter tomorrow at school. The two of you will fall in love, but due to a couple of disreputable characters, a misunderstanding occurs. This misunderstanding causes my daughter to marry a man who attempts to murder her in a few years’ time. You step in and save her, but then you spend the better part of a decade as a sort of bodyguard to protect her from any future harm. Do I have this straight?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “A scroll—what did you call it?”

  “The Cheirotonia Scroll.”

  “Right. This Cheirotonia Scroll allows you—a Traveler Warlock—to travel through time, and you’ve done this multiple times in the past to abort Holly’s death.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And now, in an attempt to break the cycle, to forestall the stabbing from happening at all, you want me to stop my headstrong daughter from falling in love with you.”

  Quentin frowned. Did he? Not if there was a better option, but in all the scenarios he’d played through since finding out he needed to return to rescue Holly and rid the earth of Beau Hill, this option seemed the best.

  “Son, if you truly love her, why would you ever want to walk away?”

  Having Alastair put into words the very question plaguing his soul made Quentin wonder if he wasn’t the dumbest fucker on the planet. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he met the steady gaze of the man in front of him.

  “I don’t want to walk away. I would lay down my life for Holly. But this vicious cycle needs to stop. Over three hundred times we’ve played out the coming trauma. If I could give her a happy life, a safer life, by walking away, why wouldn’t I?”

  With a deep sigh, Alastair meticulously folded the paper in his hand and placed it in his pocket. “What is the name of the future husband who stabs her?”