Some Practical Magic
Page 23
“Dora—” Cassie started after her, but Medusa held her back.
“Let her go, Cassandra. She needs to work through some things.”
“I know, but—”
“Let it go. When she’s ready, she’ll talk to you about it.” Medusa gestured to her friends. “Let’s be off, then, since we can’t convince those much younger than we that they need to have some excitement in their lives.”
“I’ve had enough excitement for a while, thanks,” Mick said.
Cassie nodded her agreement.
“Be well, both of you.” With those words, Medusa and the others disappeared.
Mick shook his head. “I don’t think I’m going to get used to that one any time soon.” When Cassie had no ready remark, he took a good look at her. “You’re really worried about Endora, aren’t you.”
Cassie’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes. Oh, Mick, she’s in such need right now. But Mom’s right. I can’t help her. At least not at this point.”
“Is there anything I can—” Seeing her expression, he broke off. “I know. It’s Endora’s story to tell, not yours.”
He suddenly found himself engulfed in a hug of epic proportions.
Cassie kissed his cheek, then said, “That’s one of the reasons I love you, Mick.”
He raised his brow in question.
“Understanding a person’s privacy. Being a writer, I know you’re insatiably curious. You want to know things, want to understand how things work. But you draw the line at invading someone’s privacy. I find that quality very sexy.”
“How sexy?” His grin was purely wicked.
She gave a heartfelt sigh, smile wistful. “You don’t need any excuse to drag me off to bed, if you’re angling for a reason.” He growled, but she held her hands to his chest to ward him off. “But I really truly do have a headache.”
He stilled completely. “God, I forgot about your injury!” Grabbing her by the elbow, he gently propelled her into the bedroom and made her lie down. “I’m so sorry, Cass. It’s just that you came charging into that room like Elliott Ness, and I was all cut up and not thinking about your being hurt, and then White killed himself—”
“Mick, enough!” She stopped him from pushing another pillow beneath her head. “I’ll be all right. Really. But I probably overextended myself after the energy healing last night, and now I’m paying for it.”
“What was I thinking?” He pulled the covers up to her chin. “You’re spending the day in bed resting. We can order in if you want. Or you can just sleep.”
She accepted his tucking the blanket around her, reaching to caress his cheek with her fingertips before he stood back up. “Thanks.”
“I love you,” he whispered as he bent to gently kiss her forehead.
“Right back at you.”
After drawing the curtains on the brilliant New Orleans day, he turned back to her. “Get some rest. I’ll go find Jamison and get instructions for what happens next. I’m sure there are still plenty of hoops he’s going to have me jump through before this investigation is truly over.”
She muttered a sleepy, “See you later,” as he quietly left the suite.
SIX WEEKS LATER, Mick and Cassie sat in her sunny kitchen in Salem, enjoying the warm spring day.
“If this guest list gets any bigger, we’ll have to get married in the Crystal Cathedral.”
“It’s probably not open on Halloween.” With a flick of her wrist, she sent the coffee pot levitating across the room to refill his cup.
He added cream and sugar and took a long drink. “Wonder if the New Orleans Saints rent out their football stadium.”
Cassie sighed and set down the prop pen she’d been pretending to write their guest list with. She knew it annoyed Mick when she used psychic dictation, although he never said anything, so she made it look like she was actually doing the physical work. “Maybe we could just elope.”
At her suggestion, his expression brightened. “That’s an idea . . .” His enthusiasm just as quickly waned. “. . . that would get us both killed by our families. If we eloped, we’d have to make Jamison get us into the Witness Protection Program.”
“I think he owes you one.”
On those words, Endora sauntered in, long tail swishing. “That will never work, and you know it.” She leapt into the pile of papers and lists of addresses on the table.
Mick grabbed his coffee mug before it spilled over everything, shooting her an exasperated look. “Thanks for that adrenaline rush, pal.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.”
Cassie and Mick exchanged glances over the top of Endora’s head.
“Dora, you’re out of line, and you know it,” Cassie said quietly.
“Hey, a week of being grilled by the FBI in D.C. can put anyone off her game,” Endora rejoined, but her tone didn’t have its usual cocky humor.
“This has nothing to do with wrapping up the White case.” Cassie’s annoyance was evident. “This started on the book tour.”
Rising from his chair, Mick grabbed the coffee carafe and his mug. “I’m going for a walk. No sense wasting this weather by staying inside.” He missed seeing Endora’s look of gratitude as he turned and left the room.
“All right, familiar mine, spill it.”
OUT OF RESPECT for Endora, Mick decided a constitutional around Cassie’s five-acre Salem farm was in order. He needed to stretch his legs after several hours of work on wedding plans, and the women needed to talk privately. He set off across the field behind the barn, headed for the woods.
He could relate to Endora’s remark about being off her game. The week of meetings with Jamison’s superiors had been surprisingly grueling, despite the Bureau’s insistence that Mick was not responsible for White’s activities. Going over the details of his working with the Feds had forced him to articulate his memories of every minute of the book tour—the public ones, anyway—and doing so had dredged up every emotion he had. Primarily guilt.
“Your writing did not trigger this guy’s actions,” Jamison had reminded him yet again. Repeatedly.
But it was one thing to hear that from a professional lawman and another to believe it in his heart of hearts. His conviction that he had somehow unleashed this monster had led to his retirement as M. S. Kazimer. The tour hadn’t changed his mind about that. It had merely convinced him his decision was right. Further, he’d pledged twenty percent of his earnings from every Kazimer book sold in perpetuity to programs that trained law enforcement agents in forensics and profiling. Had Jennifer still been his manager, she’d have had apoplexy over that.
Mick had to laugh at the pledge. He knew it wasn’t Catholic guilt at work—though likely some would think that. It was more giving back to the people who’d solved the White case. He’d always supported law enforcement institutions. Now he was just doing it on a larger scale. It felt good to think that the very books which had inspired a sick individual would now provide funding to keep those individuals from hurting others.
And there was something else. At the edge of the pond, he sat down on a huge boulder, set aside the coffee cup and carafe. From his shirt pocket, he withdrew a folded envelope containing a single sheet of his publisher’s letterhead.
Even though he’d already committed the contents to heart, he scanned the letter.
Dear Mick,
Your proposal for a series of children’s fantasy books written as Mirek Sandor is very exciting. I’m sure by now Miles has contacted you about our offer of a three book contract, but I’ve been given permission to add the option for three more.
You’ll be working with Lillian Davis, our top children’s editor, and I can’t tell you how thrilled she is to have the chance to collaborate with you.
Have Miles call me next week to set up a date to get you to New York for
some face-to-face time with Lillian.
Sincerely yours,
Louis Van Sykle
He laughed and returned the envelope to his shirt pocket. His agent, Miles Bednarek, had certainly informed him of the offer. However, since Mick hadn’t bothered to warn his long-time agent that his writing career had taken a one-eighty, words like “excited” and “thrilled” hadn’t entered their conversation about the offer. “What the hell are you doing?” had been Miles’ question to Mick.
He’d calmed down somewhat when Mick had explained the whole reason behind his change of genres, nonetheless reminding his client that children’s authors almost never made anywhere near the amount of money New York Times best-sellers did. But Mick was perfectly happy with his decision. He was a writer, and thus he had to write. But he’d found a different channel for his creative energy, and the money wasn’t the issue.
CASSIE FOUND HIM an hour later still sitting on the big rock, throwing pebbles into the pond.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said as she hugged him from behind.
He turned and kissed her cheek. “Hey, pretty lady. Did you and Dora work some things out?”
“We discussed the situation, and I think cleared the air somewhat.”
“But—”
“But the bottom line is Endora’s got until the Winter Solstice to resolve this situation, and no one can help her.” Cassie moved to sit beside Mick on the sun-warmed boulder and put her head on his shoulder. “It’s so hard to watch her struggle and not be able to do anything about it.”
“Guess we’ll just have to give her all our love and emotional support while she’s dealing.”
Cassie looked up at him. “Have I told you recently just how much I love you?”
“Yes, but don’t let that stop you from saying it again.”
She laughed, then sobered. “How are you doing?”
“Better.” He tossed another pebble. “Ending my horror writing career is going to be a very good thing. If I can keep Miles from having a stroke over my change of focus.”
“He’ll survive the genre switch. Now, if it was a gender switch, that might do him in.”
Mick laughed. “Becoming a woman is just not an option for me. I couldn’t find high heels big enough for my feet.” He shot her a heated glance. “Besides, I enjoy making love to you too much to change.”
“Good answer, human. If you’d said you wanted to stay a man because you liked standing up to pee, I was going to have to brain you.” She grew momentarily quiet. “We really haven’t talked about New Orleans, Mick. Should we?”
“You first.”
Cassie made a face. “Typical male. Not in touch with his feminine side.”
“Actually, I really want to hear your take on this. It might help clarify mine.”
“Wow.” Settling back against Mick’s shoulder, she said, “Let’s work back from the most recent events. I’m glad they kept the case’s major details out of the media.”
Mick shifted her until she was sitting with her back against his chest. He held her in a loose hug. “Why’s that?”
“Publishing such bizarre details would just encourage copycats, and feed some very sick people’s need for grisly events. Closing the case quietly was the best thing for all, especially the victims’ families.”
“How’d you feel about signing that nondisclosure statement?”
Cassie shrugged. “No problem. There is no earthly reason to bring much of that to the light of day. And all the others did the same thing.”
“They’re great people. Any one of them could have written a blockbuster book about the situation, but they all agreed to protect the secrecy of the case.” Mick paused. “Something that bothers me most about this whole thing is, even if the Bureau had publicized the details, they wouldn’t have gotten as much media time as my retirement announcement.”
Cassie sat up and looked at him over her shoulder. “You’re right. Media sharks in a feeding frenzy. All those fans trying to call. All the requests for interviews. The only thing that would have made the White case more interesting to the public was if they discovered you helped bring him down.”
“And that I helped create him.”
“We’re not going there, Mick.”
“Sorry.” He hugged her. “But it’s going to take a long time for me to reconcile the fact that my writing influenced someone to kill so many.”
“Influenced is not the same as made,” Cassie stated firmly. “And that’s all I’ll say on the subject. Now, it’s your turn. What’s your feeling on the whole thing?”
“It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.”
“Thank you, Charles, but I was speaking to Mirek Sandor, my fiancé.”
“Actually, Charlie got it right,” Mick said with a shrug. “It was the worst time of my life for the most obvious reason, but it was the best time, too, because you and I met and fell in love.”
Cassie could feel her eyes filling with tears and her throat closing. Still, she managed to ask, “Even having to deal with what I am? Even knowing I’m going to outlive you by so many years?”
The hug tightened. “My family is very long-lived, Cass. Yaya’s nearly a hundred and four, and she doesn’t show any signs of slowing down any time soon. Practically every relative I have, unless they had an accident or were killed in a war, has lived well into their nineties. Several have gone over the century mark. That means I’ll likely go for another sixty years, or even more.”
“I’ll still have about fifty more years without you.”
He kissed the side of her neck before he said, “Is sixty years with me going to outweigh fifty without me? Won’t our children and grandchildren be there to comfort you?”
In a flash, Cassie turned sideways in his lap and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him hard. “I love you so much, Mick. I want you, need to be with you, for all the time we have together. For however many years that may be.” She paused. Gathered her courage. “But if you can’t handle what I am, then I don’t want you to feel obligated to me for any reason.”
His arms crushed her to his chest. “Don’t turn ditzy on me now. I love you, Cassandra Hathorne. For who you are. My life will be a complete waste of time if you’re not with me. What you are is part of the package, and I’m buying the whole bundle.” Mick paused. “Besides, I’ve wondered more than once why you picked me when you could have married someone who has your same types of abilities.”
Relief flooded Cassie, and she smiled. Finally at ease. “At the risk of sounding unoriginal—I love you for who you are. So what if you’re pathetic at practical jokes.”
With a twist of his body, Mick pinned Cassie beneath him. “That’s below the belt.”
“It certainly is,” Cassie purred. Wrapping her arms loosely around his neck, she rubbed her breasts against his chest. “And I think you need to show me just how far below the belt that hit.”
Mick chuckled. “You little witch.”
“Absolutely. And proud of it.”
The End
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