Laced With Magic (6 page)
LUKE
CHLOE
The driver’s side of the rented Nissan was sunk in the mud-filled ditch right up to the wheel wells. The passenger-side door was open. The dome light illuminated the cabin, and I quickly gauged that the driver had abandoned the vehicle and apparently gone in search of help.
Which was exactly what the GPS Help operator had instructed the driver not to do.
That was one of the problems with rural living. Events unfolded at their own pace, and that pace didn’t often meet outsiders’ expectations. It had taken me less than eight minutes to reach the site, but the car rental service’s outsourced GPS Help system had taken fifteen to decide to route the call to Sugar Maple.
I hadn’t noticed any pedestrians wandering the streets between here and town hall. Sugar Maple after dark was usually a ghost town, and yeah, I mean that literally. I couldn’t see them but there was no mistaking that
you’re-not-alone
sensation once the sun went down.
you’re-not-alone
sensation once the sun went down.
I searched the car for paperwork, receipts, anything that might provide a clue about the driver, but there was nothing but an unopened Twix candy bar on the floor near the brake pedal.
Shit. I glanced around, expecting to see muddy footprints that would lead me to the driver, but the small imprints ended at the blacktop. I knew where the driver wasn’t. Now all I had to do was figure out whether he or she had followed the road out of town or cut across the open field and—
What the hell was going on? It was early April but that definitely sounded like Fourth of July fireworks coming from the center of town. I scanned the night sky and saw a thin plume of smoke rising from where the old church they used as a town hall was located.
Chloe . . .
CHLOEIn less than ten minutes I managed to take a head count, check everyone for broken bones and other injuries, and dispatch the healers among us to demonstrate their art. Paul and a group of men ventured down to the basement to check for damages while others milled around nervously, exchanging war stories about exploding hot water heaters and propane tanks. I didn’t correct them.
It had been a close call. Clearly Isadora’s powers were not at full intensity, or none of us would have been left standing. Which meant she was hobbled by her banishment, or she had meant this as a warning.
A piece of stained glass from the blown-out window of Saint George had done a number on my forearms, and I disappeared into the back to look for some hydrogen peroxide. Even though I had acquired some magickal healing abilities, my old human habits were hard to break.
I was looking for the Band-Aids when Luke’s voice in the doorway made me jump.
“What the hell happened?”
“Nothing good,” I said as I pushed aside a stack of towels. “We had an explosion.”
“I heard it outside of town. I was—” His words died and he moved closer to me. His wonderful human warmth raised the temperature in the small space by at least a few degrees. “Paul said it was the hot water heater.”
“I don’t think so.”
He grabbed my arms and inspected the fine scratches and blossoming bruises. “What do you mean, you don’t think so?”
I lowered my voice. “Isadora.” I told him about the telltale purple glitter.
“You banished her,” he said. “I thought we didn’t have to worry anymore.”
“I guess we were wrong.”
I started to tell him about the ugly confrontation with Colm and how sorry I was for springing the whole permanent police chief thing on him, but Midge Stallworth’s sweet car toonish voice sounded from the vestibule.
“People!” she called out. “We have an unconscious woman back here and she isn’t one of us!”
Exactly what we didn’t need. But I refused to panic. I loved Midge but she wouldn’t necessarily be my go-to girl in an emergency. Without her glasses on, she wouldn’t know her own daughters. I wasn’t going to freak out until it was absolutely necessary.
Luke headed up the aisle at a run. I wasn’t far behind him. Maybe she was a visitor from one of our sister communities. Hadn’t a lovely selkie couple from the Orkney Islands passed through town last month? Or maybe she was a wayward knitter who had been attracted by the lights and the promise of some lace-weight mohair.
I quickly replayed the mental tape of the meeting. We hadn’t discussed anything that could compromise our secret. At least, I didn’t think we had. Except for the explosion in the center aisle, it had been a run-of-the-mill small-town meeting.
“She’s out cold,” Midge said, her round cheeks pink from either excitement or a recent feeding. “I don’t think she’s dead but you never know.” I ignored the note of hopefulness in her voice. After all, in her world, death was the ultimate happy ending.
The woman was tiny, almost doll-like, with pale freckled skin and hair the color of a burnished copper penny. She wore jeans at least a size too big for her and a hand-knit peach-colored cardigan over a plain white cotton shirt. Veronik Avery’s Salt Peanuts? I’d bet my Addis on it. My inner knitter made a quick assessment and gave the sweater high marks.
She was the kind of woman most men wanted to protect. Just by existing she made them feel big and strong by comparison. Just by existing she made me feel like an overgrown giraffe.
I glanced over at Luke. Except for a small muscle twitching along the right side of his jaw, he was motionless, and a sudden, almost sickening surge of adrenaline coursed through my bloodstream.
He crouched down next to the unconscious woman, and an odd ripple of something close to dread moved through me. It reminded me of the way I had felt seconds before the explosion.
This isn’t going to be good . . .
This isn’t going to be good . . .
Please don’t let her be dead,
I thought. This was Sugar Maple. Things like that didn’t happen here. Or at least they hadn’t before I stepped up to the plate.
I thought. This was Sugar Maple. Things like that didn’t happen here. Or at least they hadn’t before I stepped up to the plate.
And they definitely didn’t happen twice in less than six months.
If I had to explain another dead tourist to Joe Randazzo at the County Seat—
“Maybe we should go through her purse,” Midge was saying. “Find out who she is.” She paused for a respectful instant. “Her next of kin.”
Luke’s eyes met mine and the world stopped spinning.
“Don’t bother,” he said, not breaking his gaze. “Her name is Karen MacKenzie and she’s still breathing.”
“MacKenzie!” Midge exclaimed. “Is she your sister?”
“No,” the man I loved said. “She’s my wife.”
4
“Your wife?” I sounded like I was from Mars. My voice was high and tight, and the only thing keeping me from a total meltdown was the fact that the entire town was waiting to see what came next.
“Ex-wife,” Luke said with an emphasis on the
ex
. He looked terrible. His face had drained of color and the look in his eyes—
ex
. He looked terrible. His face had drained of color and the look in his eyes—
I wasn’t going to think about the look in his eyes as he ran his powerful hands over his ex’s delicate body searching for breaks or other injuries. I knew those hands. I knew that touch.
So does she, Chloe,
a small voice whispered.
a small voice whispered.
(I hate those small voices.)
“Are you okay?” Janice murmured into my right ear. “I have some erotianimus root with me. Takes the sting out of moments like this.”
I found it hard to believe anyone on the planet had ever had a moment quite like this one.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re a lousy liar,” Janice said, patting my shoulder.
I could hear the buzzing behind me, like a hive filled with angry bees.
“His wife? I didn’t know he had a wife.” Lilith sounded horrified.
“It just goes to show what I’ve always said is true.” Renate sounded downright triumphant. “Nothing good comes from associating with humans.”
“Poor thing.” Frank from Assisted Living clicked his dentures for emphasis. “Looked like she was finally going to get herself knocked up and now this.”
What I wanted to do was tell them all to shut up, but instead I gritted my teeth and ignored the clamor. In the excitement of seeing my romance blow up in my face like an exploding cigar, they had all but forgotten about the real explosion, which definitely worked in my favor.
I watched as he rubbed her wrists, then cradled her against his chest. It was one thing to know your lover had an ex-wife in his past. It was something else again to see her in his arms.
“She’s coming around.” The note of relief in his voice was unmistakable.
I reminded myself that this surprising capacity for tenderness was one of the things I first loved about him, but right now I wasn’t too crazy about it.
The former Mrs. MacKenzie murmured something low and the place instantly fell silent. Five minutes ago I couldn’t shut them up with a tranquilizer dart.
Not that they would limit themselves to auditory snooping. Thanks to my newly acquired powers, I was able to see dozens of glittering silver thought probes unspooling across the floor toward Luke and his ex.
“Come on, people,” I said as they gathered closer. “Let’s give the woman room to breathe.”
The number of thought probes doubled. Fortunately they were invisible to humans. I hadn’t even known they existed until a few months ago when my powers began to kick in. I have to admit it gave me a creepy feeling to know that everyone in town had had access to my deepest feelings all those years. It was like seeing your diary plastered on the Internet. I drew a protective circle in the air, and in less than an instant the probes were bouncing off a giant mind shield with a soft ping and falling harmlessly to the floor.
The crowd backed off and Luke shot me a grateful look, but I wasn’t feeling particularly warm or fuzzy at the moment.
The former Mrs. MacKenzie opened her eyes, screamed, then started to struggle against him.
“Karen.” Luke’s voice was gentle but firm as he held her close. “You’re okay . . . Calm down . . . You’re with me.”
You’re with me?
A triple bypass without anesthesia would have hurt less. I’m not proud of myself, but I was almost happy when she struggled even harder against him. At least she seemed to remember they weren’t together any longer.
“Why is she yelling?” I heard one of the Griggs boys ask.
“Humans do that,” Renate said with obvious disdain. “They’re needy, helpless creatures who express their weakness through noise.”
Not so needy and helpless that I didn’t consider knocking Renate flat on her little faerie ass, but I controlled myself. I was proud of the human half of my lineage, but I wasn’t sure it was worth going to war over. If Isadora really was trying to crash back into this realm, I didn’t need to alienate other members of the Fae community any more than I already had.
Besides, I had more important things to worry about.
Luke’s ex was conscious again, and this time she wasn’t screaming. Her eyes darted from the scattered debris to the faces peering down at her, and I found myself praying Isadora’s stunt hadn’t somehow pierced the protective charm that enabled us to hide the truth in plain sight.
“Where am I?” she asked. “Madame Tussaud’s?”
“The wax museum?” Lilith’s husband, Archie the troll, was outraged. “You scrawny little—”
“I think she means it as a compliment,” Luke said, then looked down at the little woman. “All the movie stars and models, right?”
“I thought Ingrid Bergman was dead,” she said, pointing toward Rose.
I stepped forward with my biggest professional smile on my face. After all, I had spent most of my life making sure Sugar Maple and the real world didn’t rub each other the wrong way.
“Rose works for one of those celebrity look-alike agencies down in Nashua,” I said with practiced ease as I crouched down to her level. “Are you okay? You were out cold.”
She barely registered my presence. “Am I bleeding?” she asked Luke, touching a bony forefinger to her left temple.
“You’re fine.” Luke forced a smile. “Midge found you back here on the floor.”
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