He's A Magic Man (The Children of Merlin) (25 page)

But then her eyes filled. “Oh, there’s no doubt about this one.
Magic as hell.
Raised mine, too.” Her voice caught, and she stopped like she couldn’t go on.

Kemble caught his breath. His father went on full alert. “You got magic, honey? But that’s wonderful. What is it?” All his father had ever wanted for his children was for them to find their destinies and their powers. Kemble just felt depressed. He was the oldest and now two of his younger siblings had come into their powers before him. It was starting to look more and more like he wasn’t destined to find his at all.

Drew’s gaze went back to dull. “I see visions of the future. In water, it looks like.”

“A Seer,” his father said, voice hushed. “Honey, that’s the most coveted of any power.” He lurched forward and grabbed his daughter’s shoulders. “Oh, Drew. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah. Who’d have thought? A girl gets the brass ring.” She stood. “A history major can tell the future. Not sure it’s really all it’s cracked up to be, though. Hard to tell just what you’re seeing mostly, or when it’s supposed to happen.”

His father gathered her into his arms, and surprisingly, said just the right thing. “I never loved you less because you were a girl. How could I think less of females?” He smiled down at her. “Your mother wouldn’t let me.” Drew’s watery chuckle turned into full-on sobbing. His father rubbed her back. “Shhhh,” he whispered. “It’s going to be all right.” He looked over her head at him and Tris and shoved his chin toward the house.

Kemble knew an order when he saw it. Tris opened the creaking screen door and headed into the house. Kemble edged by Drew. Tris was already coming out of the bathroom. That was pretty much the only closed door in the shack. Just to tie up loose ends Kemble checked the kitchen floor behind the little bar that separated it from the rest of the room.

Tris was glowering in frustration as he glared around. “So he might look Italian but he’s got some Celt in there somewhere.”

“Redmond isn’t Italian. Scots maybe, or Irish.” Kemble’s anger bubbled up. “How could he leave her if he’s the One?”

To his surprise, Tris grew thoughtful instead of angry. “Maggie left me.” He sighed. “And I let her go, at least until I came to my senses.” He glanced up to Kemble and shrugged apologetically. “It isn’t always that easy.”

And Tris knew. Kemble didn’t. “I’m still going to kill him for hurting her,” Kemble muttered. That is, if they could find the bastard. He pushed out the door and shook his head at his father to indicate Redmond wasn’t there. Drew was to the hiccupping stage, which meant she might be capable of speech.

“Where is he?” his father asked Drew, gently. Then a note of steel intruded on his tone. “If the fool left, we’ll find him and explain why that isn’t possible.”

“Oh, Daddy, you can’t do that.” How long had it been since Drew had called their father “Daddy”? Since she had been Tammy’s age?
Maybe longer.
“He raised my magic.” She took a breath, as if for courage. “But he already had his. His one true love, Alice, died.” She looked up, pain etched around her eyes and mouth.

Kemble glanced to Tris and saw his brows raised in surprise too.

“Doesn’t matter,” their father said. But even he was taken aback.

Drew shook her head slowly and turned away. “He still loves her, of course. You don’t quit caring for your one true love just because she dies. And ... and now he’s met someone who promised to bring her back to life.”

“
What?
” they all barked in unison.

Drew wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “A girl came looking for him who can raise storms. She said the woman she works for could bring Alice back to Michael.”

“It can’t be,” Kemble’s father said under his breath. “She
must
be dead by now.”

“Who?” Kemble asked, lost.

“Morgan.” His father was flat. “That was her power. But she was ancient even when your mother and I met her. That must be thirty-five years ago, now.”

“Could ... could the girl, Rhiannon, and this Morgan woman be part of the same group who tried to kill you and Maggie?” Drew asked Tris in a small voice.

His father took a huge breath and let it out. Kemble could see his father’s brain working as his gaze darted around the porch, not registering the torn screens or the bare wood. Trees tossed branches or fronds in the wind that had risen. Clouds were boiling up on the horizon as they did most afternoons in this part of the world. These looked more ominous than most. “Yes, they could,” he said slowly. “If Morgan is still alive, she must be incredibly old. Her power comes from Morgan
Le
Fay, not Merlin. And she doesn’t want to usher mankind into the same kind of new world that we do.”

“Oh, no.” Drew looked stricken. “Michael joined them. They wanted his ability to find things.”

His father’s gaze snapped back to Drew. “He’s a Finder? Did they want him to find something in particular?”

Drew nodded. “Yeah. A sword. I recognized the design.” She paused and swallowed. “I think it was the Sword of Gwynedd.”

“The sword Merlin gave Arthur,” his father whispered. “Is that possible?”

“The Lady of the Lake gave it to Arthur, Daddy.”

“Don’t nitpick, Drew,” her father said absently. “Merlin sent him to the Lady of the Lake.” He was thinking about something else again.

“That sword was lost in the Middle Ages,” Kemble protested.

“If it ever existed at all,” Tris snorted.

“Well, they think it’s somewhere in the Caribbean,” Drew said.

“What would Morgan want with that sword?” his father mused.

“Uh, pretty valuable if you could prove what it was,” Kemble offered. He could never resist answering his father’s questions. Ever the good little boy in school, Kemble was.

His father shook his head.
Wrong again, Kemble
. “There’s got to be something more. Maybe it has magic in and of itself. When your mother and I last encountered Morgan, she was looking for objects of power. What did she call them?” He tapped one finger on the back of the graying Adirondack chair and lowered his head to think. The wind was really blowing now, out of the east. His father’s head snapped up. “Talismans. She called them Talismans of power.”

“Talismans?” Drew asked, her eyes widening. “You mean as in the Talismans of the tarot the priests were looking for in the fourteenth century?”

Hell and damnation.
His father’s shock mirrored his own.

“A sword is one of the tarot suits, isn’t it?” Tris asked.

They all looked at each other. Drew was right. This all came together.

“I’ll be damned,” his father cursed softly. Then his gazed darkened. “Morgan should not have possession of any artifact that might confer power on her.”

“Well, she’s about to get it.” Drew frowned. “Michael knows where it is. Or he will.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. “You’ve ... you’ve seen him find it?” Kemble asked.

Drew swallowed and her normal fearlessness failed her. “Not exactly. But I saw him write down the coordinates on his chart, and then draw his route. I memorized them.”

A slow smile spread over their father’s face. Pride in his daughter and a sort of fierce intention glowed in his eyes. They were in for it now. Kemble just wished that look of pride was for him. “We can’t let them have that sword, honey. Your brothers and I are going to have to go after it too, with the coordinates you saw. And if Michael stands in the way....” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. “He’s joined Morgan now.”

Drew didn’t collapse. She didn’t plead for her traitor, even though she must love him the way Kemble always dreamed he’d love someone: totally, completely. She just squared her shoulders and said, “Don’t think you’re going without me. I’m a Seer now. That means I can help. Maybe.”

Their father’s lips thinned. Then he took a deep breath and nodded. “Do you know whether the sword is underwater or on land?”

Drew shook her head. “All I saw was him coming out of the trance where he finds things, and going below to write down where it was.”

“How long have they been gone?”

Drew looked dubious. “Since early this morning. Maybe five hours.”

Their father looked up at the sky, into the rising wind. “Kemble, were there any hurricane warnings out?”

Kemble shook his head. Of course he’d checked the weather before they left LA. It was hurricane season.

“Well, check again. This Rhiannon may have raised a storm to keep any watercraft from following them.” Kemble could see the wheels turning. “Drew, write down the coordinates. I want to know where we’re going. If it’s far, they’ll need to stop for fuel, perhaps several times.”

“What does that mean?” Tris asked.

“It means that if this weather holds, we may have a better chance of beating them to the punch with wind power.”

“Right.” Kemble trotted to the car. Could he get Wi-Fi in this godforsaken place?

“And some weaponry?” his father called. Kemble held up a hand to show he’d heard.

“We’ll never catch them,” Kemble heard his sister say.

“Or we’ll capsize in this weather.”
This from Tris, who had never been fond of sailing.
Cycles and cars were more his thing. They had engines.

“I’m one helluva a sailor, oh ye of little faith,” his father said, steel in his voice. “And they’ve got to collect the thing once they get there. That will take time too.”

“How many crew are with them?” Tris asked.
Ever practical, Tris.

“Crew? More like thugs,” Drew sniffed. “I saw five, plus Rhiannon and her boyfriend.”

Great.
Three Tremaine men against six guys and a girl who could raise storms.
Drew might be a Seer but she wasn’t going to be much help in a fight. This was not going to be a picnic. Especially if any of the thugs had magic powers too.

But his father was right. You couldn’t just let some Talisman power thing fall into the hands of the wrong people. They had to try.

*****

The moon laid a glowing channel of light over the midnight sea. It was calmer out here, the winds diminished. Michael stood at the wheel on the upper deck of
The Purgatory
just as he had all day, trying to get her through the edge of that building hurricane off the coast. The storm had really come up out of nowhere. He’d tried to talk Rhiannon into waiting until it blew over, but she’d only laughed and said she wanted this storm.

This whole thing might be a fool’s errand. The coordinates of their destination were in the Caribbean Sea where the map showed nothing but blue. That had shocked St. Claire. But it didn’t deter Rhiannon. She just made grim plans to pick up diving equipment at their first fuel stop at Cat Island in the Bahamas. Too bad she hadn’t brought Carl and Tucker. So, tearing through wind and rain toward nowhere meant that piloting
The Purgatory
took his full attention. He’d given up the wheel only when he had to use the head. Rhiannon fed him sandwiches and Dr. Pepper, which he ate standing.

At least his stomach had settled. By the time they had made it to the shack, Michael had retched his guts out several times. He had told Rhiannon he was still detoxing. The shrewd examination she’d given him said she might know more about what he’d been going through than he’d like. Unfortunately, Michael knew exactly what was happening. The bond he’d felt with Drew was breaking. How did he know? Because he’d felt that
same
bond with Alice. What did that mean? That he loved Drew as much as he loved Alice? Or was it part of the fact that they both had magic? He sure as hell didn’t feel a bond with Rhiannon. The thought that he had a bond with Drew drenched him with guilt on several fronts.

The connection had faded. Which was a good thing. Alice would be back soon, and that made Drew an interlude. The word “interlude” felt wrong applied to Drew. She didn’t deserve “interlude.” Not smart, funny, generous, sexy Drew. He was as bad as the asshole professor.

He jerked his mind away from thoughts of Drew. Alice had to be his focus now. She was coming back. He had to hang on to that.

His skin felt tight, coated with brine from the wind and the spray. The drone of the engines, the faint smell of diesel, and the jolt of the bow over the waves had long ago combined into a hypnotic assault on his senses that made reality seem far away.

The others were asleep below or sprawled in the back on the padded benches. Only one of the guys brought along for muscle was posted aft as a
groggy
lookout. The ocean was big and black, no land in sight. Funny, that’s how his life seemed. He’d been alone for the last two years, no land in sight, churning through the night toward some destination that never got any closer.

For a minute, he’d thought his destination was closer than he thought. He was so sorry he’d had to hurt Drew. The look on her face when he’d called her a silly coed had been enough to make him poke his eyes out with a stick.

He rolled his shoulders, then his head to ease the ache in his neck. Shit. He’d gone from thinking he and Alice were psychic to believing in magic, all in a matter of hours. And he did believe. He had to. Magic was going to bring Alice back.