Visions of Magic (30 page)

He'd been right about this, Shea thought. At first she'd insisted that he was making a mistake by booking the most expensive suite on the ship. She'd thought they should hunker down in a tiny cabin in the bowels of the boat. Incognito, sort of.

But Torin had insisted that the rich were rarely bothered. They had access to twenty-four-hour room service and could elect to stay locked away in their suite and never see another passenger or member of the crew if they wished. When the maids arrived every day, Shea and Torin merely stepped onto the wide private verandah until they were gone again. Safer all the way around.

And a luxury she wished she could enjoy more thoroughly.

Still, it was annoying that he seemed to be right so often.

“Again,” Torin said from across the room.

She frowned at him. “Moving flowers from spot to spot isn't exactly honing my skills, you know.”

“Controlling your power is the most important thing right now, Shea,” he said, and pushed up from the comfortable sofa to walk toward her.

“Oh, I don't know,” Shea said when he was only a step away. “I sort of think it's more important to remember where the hell we're going and
why
.”

Torin grinned at the impatience in Shea's tone. And it suddenly struck him how very seldom he had smiled in the recent centuries. But these last days with Shea, despite the danger, despite the constant threat of attack, had changed him. The mating had touched something inside him that he wouldn't have believed existed.

Their matching tattoos were nearing completion and every time he saw his mark spreading over her shoulder and back from its beginning on her breast, Torin experienced a sense of rightness that he had hungered for all his long existence. His need for her increased by the day and he could barely manage to be in the same room with her without touching her. Tasting her. He wanted her safe. He wanted her happy. But mostly he simply wanted her.

Now she stared at him through narrowed eyes and he felt a flicker of pride rise up in him. These days on the cruise ship had been intense. For both of them.

They were hiding. True, in lush surroundings, but knowing that she was unable to so much as step out onto their terrace without first making sure she was alone was wearing on her. He could see it daily. Tension was ratcheting up inside her along with her powers and the mixture was difficult to bear. For both of them.

And yet, his witch stood tall and proud, refusing to surrender. Refusing to lie down and cry about her fate or what was expected of her. Her entire life had changed over the last couple of weeks, and yet she continued on, working toward the inevitable test that lay ahead of her.

Her powers were growing more quickly now. Since drawing down the moon and unlocking the door to her memories, she had triggered the release of her many gifts. Torin sensed her abilities developing at a staggering rate and knew that she fought daily for the control she needed. Her own need for knowledge was feeding her magical growth. And the mating sex was deepening those abilities, stirring to life old embers, echoes of past lives.

She would need every ounce of strength and will she possessed, he told himself solemnly. His mind raced ahead. To what they might face when they finally reached England's shores. There were still too many unknowns before them. They had to locate Haven. They had to find the Artifact. And, they were running out of time. There were so many things that could go wrong.

“You're worried,” she said.

“Some.”

Shea nodded, and walked to the windows that overlooked the sea, stretching out in front of them. At the horizon, sea and sky melded together into a seamless blue that seemed to slide into infinity.

“So am I.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I still don't know everything that I should and we land in three days.”

“It will come,” he assured her. “Once we're in England, the sense memories will become thicker, more distinct.”

“Maybe.” She turned her back on the window to face him.

Backlit by the sun, she appeared to be gilded by a glowing golden light. Her dark red hair shone and though her green eyes were in shadow, he could have sworn he saw them flash with purpose.

“You need to tell me, Torin. What do you remember from that last night?”

Frowning, he started to argue, but she cut him off.

“We're running out of time. My magic is growing, I know. But I still feel like I'm in this blind. I need more information and I'm just not sorting through the opening memories as quickly as I'd like.”

He pushed out of the chair and walked to her. “You're right,” he admitted and caught the glint of surprise in her eyes. He smiled. “You thought I would argue with you.”

Nodding, she said, “Well, you're the one who's been insisting all along that my memories had to come in their own time.”

“True,” he said, sliding one hand along her arm, hearing her breath quicken at his touch. How glorious it was to know that his woman felt everything he did when they came together. That the magic they created affected each of them with the same sense of eager anticipation for their next joining.

Taking a breath, he said, “But you managed to awaken your memories, Shea. Perhaps telling you now will help you sort through them at a faster pace.”

He swept her up into his arms and carried her easily across the room toward the stairs.

“What're you doing?” she asked, linking her arms around his neck.

“I'm going to tell you all I know,” he said, continuing on up the curving staircase to the luxurious bedroom on the second floor.

“And you have to tell me in the bedroom?”

He glanced at her and gave her a half smile. “It will take a while. You should be comfortable.”

“Uh-huh. You're only thinking of
me.
”

“You are my mate, Shea,” he said softly, meaningfully. “I always think of you.”

 

Cora Sterling looked at her daughter and felt a surge of pride. Deidre Sterling was everything a mother could have hoped for. Brilliant, beautiful and strong-willed, she was, in essence, Cora told herself, a younger version of her mother.

Even a simple family dinner became an event at the White House. The Secret Service was always close at hand and the waitstaff from the kitchens tended to hover nearby, always ready to be of service.

But Cora didn't want any distractions when her daughter was there for dinner. As soon as she was able, she got rid of everyone so that she and Deidre could talk. Once the room was empty, she broached the subject that had been worrying her for days.

“The RFW has been in the papers a lot lately.” She speared a bite of excellently prepared salmon.

“I know.” Deidre pushed her chin-length blond hair behind her ears and smiled. “It's really exciting, Mother. Rights for Witches is growing faster than any of us had hoped.”

Cora nodded and took a sip of cold white wine. “But there was trouble yesterday on the Mall.”

A protest march at the National Mall had been scheduled for months. At most, people guessed there would be several thousand attendees. But more than fifty thousand people had shown up to march on the capital. The D.C. police were still sorting out all of the arrests they'd made. Even the most peaceful of protests somehow tended to engender violence of some kind.

All it took was one wrong word at the precisely wrong time and fireworks exploded, turning a demonstration into—in this case, at least—a near riot.

“The morning news was filled with coverage,” Cora said. “People climbing on the Lincoln monument, fighting, for heaven's sake, in the Reflecting Pool. It was a disgrace.”

Deidre sighed and leaned back in her chair. “It was disappointing, I know, but every movement has its share of hotheads, right? I mean, the important thing here is just how many people showed up. It was incredible.” Her eyes shone and her smile flashed. “We never expected so many!”

“Yes,” Cora said wryly, “I know.”

Deidre winced a little at her tone. “I'm not trying to make things difficult for you, Mother. But this is important to me. I hate seeing how witches are being treated—rounded up and bundled off to internment camps? It's practically prehistoric!”

Cora chuckled. “Not nearly so dramatic, honey. You know that I've been working to solve this problem . . .”

“Oh, I do,” Deidre told her, sliding a glance around the dining room in the president's private quarters as if to make sure no one was left to overhear them. “And it's great, really. But unless
everyone
steps up to protest what's happening, nothing will really change.”

“It's dangerous, Dee,” Cora told her daughter. “You could have been killed in that mob scene yesterday. If the Secret Service hadn't been there to pull you out . . .”

“But they pulled only me out,” Deidre complained. “My friends were left to fend for themselves.”

Dropping her fork onto the Reagan china with a clatter, Cora said, “You can't expect the agents to save everyone, Dee. You are my daughter. It's their duty to keep you from harm.”

“Protect me but fry the witches. Is that it?”

“Watch your tone.”

Instantly, Deidre got hold of herself. “Sorry. Look, I'm doing what I have to do. I don't expect you to approve, Mother, but you can't stop me from this.”

“That's where you're wrong, Dee,” Cora told her, reaching across the table to squeeze her daughter's hand. “I can do whatever I like. Not only am I your mother, but I'm the president. If I think you're in danger, don't for one minute believe that I'm not going to act.”

Deidre looked into her mother's eyes and what she read there must have convinced her because her attitude shifted and she said, “I'm sorry I worried you. I'll try not to let it happen again. But I can't promise to stop my work with the RFW. It's too important. To me. To the
world.
”

Cora patted her hand and nodded. “I understand completely. But you must understand that I will do whatever I think necessary to ensure that you stay well.”

“Of course,” Deidre said and squeezed her mother's hand. “So, let's talk about something else. Did I tell you I found a condo I might want to buy?”

Cora sat back and watched her daughter, smiling at all the appropriate times, while she silently made plans to talk to the agents assigned to Deidre. Yesterday, her daughter's safety had been compromised. She might have died.

Cora would not allow that to happen.

Torin's words were simple, Shea reflected, but so profound. He was everything to her. She never would have thought that any two people could bond so completely in such a short time.

But these last few days had been the most amazing of her life. It was as if the magic itself was a living entity, separate from her, yet a part of her at the same time.

She was even dreaming about spells and enchantments. She woke up knowing the lore of crystals. She could create a talisman or craft a love spell. She could now list medicinal herbs and how they should be used. Her mind was filled to overflowing with the knowledge of the many lifetimes she'd lived. She remembered more every day. It was all there, in her mind, her heart. She had only to uncover the last of her own deeply buried secrets.

Torin carried her into their bedroom. She squinted against the bright afternoon light glancing off the water with a knife's edge. Automatically, she dimmed the light, but kept the brilliance of it. Because she wanted the curtains open to the light. Wanted the terrace doors open to the wind.

She drew strength and energy from the elements of nature and felt the sunlight and wind and sea filling her cells, becoming a part of her.

It was cold, but that was easily remedied. A wave of their hands and they felt only the kiss of the wind, not its bite. Torin laid her down on the bed and stretched out alongside her. Shea snuggled in, pillowing her head on his chest, listening to the silence within, still puzzled by the fact that a man so richly, thoroughly alive could have no heartbeat. She kissed the spot where beneath his shirt, the mating tattoo coiled.

“If you begin doing that,” he warned quietly, “there will be no talking.”

“Right,” she said, feeling the sparks within her ignite. Being close to him only made the magnetic pull between them that much stronger. Shea ached to feel his warm skin against hers, feel his hard, thick body pumping into hers. Her core tingled and her breathing became fast and shallow as she fought to resist the lure of the mating. “Okay,” she said after a long minute. “Talk first. Then sex.”

“I agree,” he said, his arm tightening around her. “So, that night. I've told you most of it already, but you're now remembering it for yourself, aren't you?”

“Yes.” Everything Torin had already told her still resonated inside her. And as her memories had risen to the surface of her mind, she had seen it all so clearly, as if a part of her were trapped on that long-ago night and she was doomed to relive it over and over again in some twisted sort of loop. Like a mental journal, the pages of her life flipped past, showering her with the long-dead echoes of horrific sounds and scents and colors.

Yet, despite everything, there was a small, very secret part of her that was . . . excited by the memory. There was a dark place within her that relished every scream, every jolt of terror, every moment of danger that clung to the ancient images.

In the deepest part of her heart, Shea worried not about Torin's trustworthiness but about her own. She couldn't tell him what she was feeling. What she was dreading. But the truth was, Shea was terrified that along with her newfound powers the woman she had once been was being awakened.