Barely Bewitched (24 page)

Since I’d only just figured out that I was a faery, saying I wasn’t a very good one didn’t really hurt my feelings. On the other hand, my side ached where she’d shot me, and I felt like dropping her on her smug little head. Maybe when we were a little less busy.

“Nixella Pipken Rose, I command you to apply the honey and syrup to the trees in a way that will re-collect the pixie dust as fast as possible. And then I command you to sneak into the land of faery to get Abigail Farmer. You will return her to her parents without letting them know she’s been gone, and, while you’re doing the stuff I command, you won’t tell anyone what you’re doing or why. You won’t cause any trouble or endanger any human beings. And when you’re finished, you’ll find someplace to hide until I call you to me again. Go now.”

She disappeared. I turned to Edie and found her smiling at me.

“Aren’t you just the bee’s knees?” she said.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course, biscuit. What?”

“I need Aunt Mel’s earrings so I can face Incendio. Last I know of, Earl had them, but he was going to sell them to someone. I’m not sure who. Can you find out what happened to them?”

“Absolutely. Leave it to me.”

Chapter 41

While I’d been dealing with Nixella, Mercutio had gotten out of the car. I called to him several times and searched the surrounding area, but didn’t find him. I glanced at the sun, hanging low in the sky. I was almost out of time; I needed to go. Luckily, Merc could take care of himself.

“Merc, I have to try to save Bryn. Meet me there!” I yelled.

The drive to Bryn’s was interesting. People were milling about like cars had never been invented. They wandered into the streets for a stroll or a game of touch football or to play hockey on Rollerblades. If there was a rule of the road, they ignored it, which meant I had to do the same. I drove around them, riding curbs, crossing sidewalks, and going over grass, rocks, and between trees. I doubted the limousine people ever thought of it much as an off-road vehicle, but it did really well.

Steve let me through the gate, and Mr. Jenson waited for me at the open front door.

I hurried in, clutching the pages in my hand. “I need to make a potion.”

“This way,” he said, leading me down the hall to a locked door. He opened it with a key and turned on the light. The windowless room smelled spicy. There were floor-to-ceiling shelves full of bottles and jars. On a granite-topped workbench were half-used candles, a mortar and pestle, a thin silver ice-pick-looking thing, and half a dozen bottles and jars. I glanced through the labels on the bottles and matched them to the things on the pages. Eleven ingredients matched the antidotes checked on the list. I removed the bottle of cloves from the others and set it aside. Then I looked at the shelves.

“Are they in some order?” I asked Mr. Jenson, stepping to the shelves. There were thousands of bottles. “I still need dandelion root and shark oil.”

My eyes darted over the labels.
Lemon Extract. Lemonweed. Marstone.

“I’m not sure, but if I know Mr. Lyons, it will be—”

“Alphabetical,” I finished, hurrying over to the “D” section and pulling bottles off the shelves until I found the jar I needed. I set it on the counter and rushed to the “S” section. I couldn’t believe anyone would have shark oil, but there it was, between something called “shade silt” and “ground silkworm.”

I grabbed the mortar and added two pinches of the dry ingredients and four drops of the liquid ones. I ground it together and stirred. It had a good consistency.

“I need a spoon,” I said.

“Won’t you need this, Miss Tamara?” Mr. Jenson asked, holding up the silver spike.

“What for?”

“Mr. Lyons used it to—well, it was rather like tattooing himself, I suppose. He has a great connection to the stars and introduced the previous antidote under his skin in a very particular pattern, that of the constellations Pisces and Taurus, he said. He intended for you to do the same.”

Connected to the stars? Was Bryn’s magic mainly celestial? And would my spell-casting work on him since mine wasn’t? I took a deep breath. It would work. Because it had to. He might be connected to the stars, but he was magically connected to me, too. I’d felt the proof of that every time we touched.

I thought of the word in Bryn’s instructions for the counterspell that I hadn’t been familiar with
. Subcutaneous
. I’d looked it up and found out it meant “below the skin,” which hadn’t made sense to me, and I’d figured I’d misread the word because the handwriting had been so shaky. But now I realized I’d read it right after all. Subcutaneous . . . yuck.

“He expects me to poke him with that?” I asked, grimacing.

Mr. Jenson nodded. “If need be,” he said, then hesitated with his brows drawn together. “I can assist you with that portion.” From the look on his face, it seemed like he’d rather have had a hammer to the head.

“No, I can do it. Where’s the pattern he used?”

“He did it from memory.”

“Of course he did. He’s probably got a thousand star charts tucked away in that brain of his, but since I don’t usually have to pilot the space shuttle, I need a book.”

“Yes, I’m sure he’d have anticipated that and left you one, but he was weak and pressed for time. Let me see what I can find.”

I caught his arm. “I’m real sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just nervous.”

“Understood. No need to apologize. Give me a moment to find you an adequate volume.”

Ten minutes later, he gave me a book with nice big pictures of the constellations. I took it with me when I crossed into the circle in Bryn’s room. Mr. Jenson and Steve waited downstairs, saying they didn’t want to intrude. Apparently raising the dead calls for privacy.

I figured Bryn’s back would be the best canvas, so I rolled him on his side and lifted his shirt. Lucky for him I’m an expert cake decorator, so copying patterns is a skill I actually do have. It was real creepy, though, to dip the needle-tipped spike in the potion and then poke it through his waxy, bluish skin. It was even creep ier when he didn’t bleed.

If I didn’t get my pastry chef job back, two jobs I knew I wouldn’t apply for were mortician and tattoo artist. I shuddered and pressed on.

I consulted my book and made sure I had all my stars just so. Then I rolled him on his back and put a couple dabs of the potion on the back of his tongue with my fingertip, hoping it might drip down into him.

He hadn’t left me any verse or counterspell to say. I guessed he didn’t have time. I decided to keep it simple:

With you gone, your soul I miss
Return to me now, with this kiss.

I pressed my lips against his, not feeling a thing.

Please!

I crawled on top of him and kissed harder, holding his face in my hands as I mumbled the words again, blowing my breath into him.

Like a flame on the head of a match that’s just been struck, the power flared to life and blossomed.

His body was still cold and stiff, but I went on kissing him and mumbling the verse until I felt his heart start to beat in his chest. He took a deep breath and swallowed.

I sat back, holding one of his hands, and watched his skin. The blue faded to pale white, almost glowing, and then returned to normal. It was nothing short of a miracle.

I smiled my triumph.

Not such a magical menace now, am I?

His palm warmed against mine, and he opened his eyes. They were lighter than usual, and it seemed to take time for them to focus.

Aren’t I just the cat’s pajamas?
I thought, wishing Merc had been there to see me do something right.

“Hey there,” I whispered, giving Bryn’s hand a squeeze. “We may be antifaery at the moment, but the
Sleeping Beauty
fairy-tale thing sure worked. I used a kiss to wake you up.”

Bryn’s lids drifted shut, but he spoke, his voice raspy and soft.

“Saved my life, huh? Knew you could do it.”

Chapter 42

At first, I was so relieved he was alive that I was content just to watch him breathe, but, as time ticked by, I started to get anxious. I jostled him, giving his arm a pinch when he didn’t wake right away.

He stirred, and when he opened his eyes, they were their usual bright blue.

“How come you didn’t kiss me awake this time?”

“Because you weren’t dead.”

A faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “For future reference, I still prefer it.”

“Can you get up?”

“Possibly, but I’ll need help undressing.”

Huh?

Oh!
My cheeks burned, and I slapped his arm. “No flirting. We’ve got work to do.” I opened my mouth to accuse him of blocking Edie, but closed it again. I wouldn’t bring up the Edie spell when there was still so much to do.

“I need a little more time to recover. Get me some black tea. Tell Jenson to put ginger and a moonstone in it.”

“I’ll be right back.”

I hopped up and rushed downstairs. By the time I came back with the cup, he was sitting up with some pillows behind his back. He looked normal, his eyes clear and alert.

I gave him the tea, and he drank it down, then he stretched, grimacing when he twisted his torso.

“If your back hurts, it’s because I poked you once or twice.”
Or twenty-eight times.
“Mr. Jenson said I should.”

He climbed off the bed and walked to me. “I feel fine, sweetheart. You did a great job.” He brushed his lips over mine, making them tingle. My traitorous body reacted like he hadn’t betrayed me.
Cut it out
, I told myself and took a step back.

“Okay, let me give you a list of all the stuff that you have to help me fix,” I said. “First, we’ve got to reinforce the doors before the fae come through to murder half the town. Second, we’ve got to blow the wind toward the four corners so the dust can get stuck to the traps. Third, we’ve got to unspell the trees and plants to keep them from growing five years’ worth in an hour. Fourth, we’ve got to unbind the town so that people can get in and out of Duvall again. Did I forget anything? Nope, I think that’s everything.”

The left edge of his mouth curved up, all sexy and amused. “You’ve been busy.”

I frowned. He wasn’t moving as quickly or taking the trouble as seriously as I wanted him to. “Think we’ve got a chance of putting everything right?” I asked.

“Anything’s possible.” He paused at the doorway to the bathroom to steady himself.

“You feel weak?”

“I feel half dead,” he said. Then he smiled. “Which is decidedly better than feeling all dead.” He winked at me and stepped into the bathroom. He didn’t bother to shut the door, and I was about to turn away when I saw him open the medicine cabinet. I wondered what magical thing he had stashed in there. An amulet or a packet of strength-boosting elixir that he kept nearby in case of emergencies?

I waited and then gaped when he took out shaving cream. I stalked over to the doorway as he squirted some white foam into his palm.

“Please tell me this is from some special ritual.”

“It’s a daily ritual,” he conceded, rubbing the foam on his face.

“You’re taking time out of our busy schedule to shave? Now?”

“The whiskers itch. It’s distracting.”

I yanked my shirt up and turned so he could see the wound on my side. “This is from the second time I was shot by an iron-tipped arrow. You think it doesn’t hurt? You think the throbbing isn’t distracting? But you don’t see me saying I’ll pop a pain pill and sleep until I feel better, do you?”

Bryn looked me over and then turned to his own reflection. He pulled the razor down his jaw, relaxed as you please, totally oblivious to my objection.

Anger ran through my veins like a runaway locomotive. “Well? What do you have to say?”

“You’ve got a great belly button.”

Surprisingly, my head didn’t explode. “Are you kidding me!” I shouted.

He paused from shaving to brace himself, holding the sink tightly. “Tamara, you want me to spell-cast. I can barely stand upright. I’ll need every ounce of concentration I can muster. That means eliminating any distraction I can, even the minor ones.”

Oh.
The fury drained out of me, leaving me a little less rattled. “Okay.” I stepped into the bathroom with him and touched his arm. “Sit. I’ll help you.”

He handed me the razor and sat down, tipping his face up. He closed his eyes and his breathing turned even. I slid the razor over his skin, stopping a couple times to rinse it under the trickling water from the sink’s tap.

It was weirdly intimate. I stood back as far as possible, but I could still smell the spicy-scented foam, could still feel the curve of his perfect jaw as I pulled the razor along it. I tried to concentrate on the trouble we needed to fix, but all I could think about was his gorgeous face . . . and the fact that usually being in the bathroom while a man shaved meant that you’d spent the night with him.

Pull yourself together!

“Easy,” he said.

I winced as a drop of blood formed where I’d nicked him. “Sorry.” I finished as quickly and carefully as I could.

“Done!” I announced, tossing the razor in the sink and wetting a towel.

He opened his eyes and studied me. I backed away, tossing the towel to him. It landed on his thigh, but he never looked down. His blue eyes glittered at me in that way they do, like God gave him priceless sapphires instead of eyes.

He lifted the rag and wiped his face while watching me.

“Um, I’ll wait for you out here,” I said, hurrying back into his bedroom where I was sorry to see that taking up the better part of one wall was still his king-sized bed.

I clenched and unclenched my fists.
Physical attraction doesn’t mean anything. Don’t forget you can’t trust him. He blocked you from seeing Edie, which is probably why he’s on the family list. And from what Jordan Perth says, Bryn’s the leader of some anarchist terror group. Plus, he’s a lawyer!

“Tamara—”

I spun around and pointed a finger at him. “I’m mad at you.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the bathroom and then to me again. He raised his eyebrows. “You know, your mood swings could give a man whiplash.”

“I wasn’t going to bring this up until after we saved the town, but I decided it can’t wait.”

He walked over to the plush chair in the corner and dropped into it, putting his feet up on the matching footrest. “Talk to me.”

“You cast a spell to keep Edie from getting to see me, and—” I waited for him to deny it. The jerk didn’t even bother to lie to me. “And I’ll never forgive you for it.”

He leaned his head back and looked up at the skylight. “You know, never’s a very long time. Longer than say . . . a week or two.”

Freaking smart-ass. I was glad I’d brought him back to life. It’s too darn hard to get even with someone who’s dead.

“I know how long it is!” I snapped. I dragged a few breaths into my lungs and lowered my voice. “I was just starting to trust you. How could you do that to me?” I whispered.

He raised his head and looked at me. “She was a threat to us.”

“You had no right! She helps and protects me.”

“By keeping you away from me? Her primary purpose in death?”

“What if it is? You and I are not supposed to be together. I mean, look what you did. Blocking a member of my family from seeing me—it doesn’t get any more wrong than that.”

“Disenfranchised spirits are dangerous. They are not to be trusted.”

“You don’t know her. For your information, I couldn’t have saved your life without her help.”

“Well, that’s ironic,” he said. “But she still doesn’t belong in our world. Maybe if you let her go, she could move on.”

“Or maybe she’d still be trapped and, on top of it, she’d be all alone. By doing things like that spell, you just reinforce what she believes, that I need to stay away from you.”

He smiled wryly. “Undoubtedly. A man who risks his life, who turns himself into a wizard marked for assassination, for a woman’s sake—yes, that’s a man she needs to be warned about.”

I threw my arms wide. “I appreciate all that stuff, but I’m not sure why you did it. You could have—probably do have—an ulterior motive. Everyone says you’re out to trick me. I don’t know what to believe.”

“That must be difficult for you.”

I heard the hard edge to his voice. He was angry and frustrated that I didn’t just let him convince me, but Edie had been blocked. I folded my arms across my chest and squared my shoulders. My posture made him clench his jaw.

“There’s one thing you can believe, Tamara,” he said, the dark-edged tone going darker. “If you want to save this town, you need my help.” He held out a hand to me.

I couldn’t go share a chair with him when we were in the middle of a fight. Seconds ticked by, and his hand stayed stretched out where it was.

“We’re in here and it’s quiet, but I think you know it’s not quiet out there,” he said. “If the fae army comes through en masse, people will die. Are we letting that happen, or are we trying to stop it?”

Just once I wanted saving Duvall to be someone else’s problem. “My powers work best when I have bare feet touching the ground. I think we should go outside,” I said.

He dropped his hand. “That’s good thinking.” He stood and motioned for me to precede him out the door. We walked silently down the stairs.

Mr. Jenson saw us and smiled. He was relieved to see Bryn up and it showed.

“Well-done, Miss Tamara.”

I forced myself to smile. It wasn’t a real smile, but I hoped he wouldn’t be able to tell.