Authors: test
My talents lay in other directions, in clothing required ways. Like cooking or checkers. I knew that everybody had to start somewhere but he was at the top of Mt. Everest while I was barely crawling out of the valley below.
He was beautiful like a fallen angel. He had money, power and had clearly stated his intentions with regards to me; he wanted marriage and children and not necessarily in that order.
I wanted to get married and have children too. Someday. But, I hated the idea of it all being prearranged for me. The lack of romance and most especially, choice, bothered me. I didn't want to be the womb for his progeny. I wasn't willing to settle for convenience over love.
I understood the sacrifices that witches and warlocks made, but it didn't mean I was ready to go along with it.
Maybe I was being selfish. I wasn't sure where this newfound rebelliousness came from.
I was normally a 'don't rock the boat' kind of girl. But, I guess everyone has their limit and mine was this. I couldn't allow anyone to make decisions for me. To steer me in the direction they thought I should go. When, and if, I got married and had children it would be my choice all the way or not at all.
“I can't do this Gage. I like you, but not in that way. I'm sorry you have gone to all the trouble of flying over from England to be with me but you should go home now,” my voice was steady but firm and I gave him a polite smile inviting him to do the same.
His smile faded and I saw a calculating look enter his eyes. I wasn't sure how much money or power he had, but it was pretty impressive that he was able to get Mr. Whitley on the phone in the same way that I would call for a pizza.
A man like Gage Hawthorne was used to being obeyed. He was ruthless and not above WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 64
skullduggery if it came to that to get what he wanted. I shivered to think of all that determination focused on me. All the more reason for me to get away from him.
But he didn't know me very well if he thought an intimidating look would have me kowtowing to his every demand.
I straightened my spine, lifted my chin and with a curt nod I walked past him and reached for the doorknob, fully intending to walk back to my desk and continue on with my day like nothing had happened. As far as I was concerned, I had no choice but to continue on with my normal life.
I felt, rather than saw as Gage walked up behind me. I was about to whirl around and warn him not to try and stop me, when I saw the desk chair behind him fly up and crash through the window with an explosive crack.
I screamed in shock and Gage lunged forward pushing me to the floor and covered me with his body. I heard the glass raining down outside and the distant sound of cars in the street far below. It was surprisingly loud, the windows must really muffle noises from outside. I heard voices raised in panic in the hallway outside of the office and the door was thrust open with a crash.
The ominous sound of a gun cocking made me stiffen in fear. The muscle men from Celia's Pearl District apartment rushed into the office with guns drawn and made a quick scan of the room. I noticed they were incredibly graceful for such large men.
Their feet seemed to barely touch the floor as they moved across the room and their heads swung from side to side in a curiously animalistic way as they scanned the office looking for danger. But my eyes were fastened on what they held in their powerful hands; guns. Gleaming black barrels glinted in the sun. They weren't pistols and they weren't decorative with mother of pearl handles or nickel triggers. They were big and scary and real. I really, really hate guns.
I felt crushed into the hard floor with Gage covering me and wasn't able to draw enough breath to speak. I heard him speaking quietly to his men and I could hear several excited voices calling out to each other in the hallway outside as people in the office came running to find out what happened. I heard someone talking about volcanoes and terrorist attacks and I felt horribly guilty that I had brought someone like Gage here. My coworkers wouldn't be so frightened if it wasn't for me. I shouldn't have come in to work today, I was a Typhoid Mary, bringing fear and destruction to everyone around me.
Gage sat up, being careful not to lean on me and with one strong yank, pulled me to stand next to him. His hands impersonally ran over my body, pulling a gravel shaped piece of glass from the hair hanging by my ear and he brushed off the sleeve of my jacket sending small pieces of glass tumbling to the floor.
“What the hell happened?” I said, frowning at him.
If he was trying to get me to leave with him, throwing things through the window was the wrong way to go about it.
There was glass all over the floor, from the base of the windows to the couch and coffee table on the opposite wall. I saw Gage's bodyguards turn to give me a curious look blended with respect. I wasn't sure what to make of that and so waited to hear what Gage had to say.
Nonchalantly, he said, “You broke the window Anna.”
For a moment I was dumbfounded. What was he talking about? I wasn't even near the windows and besides I would have to have the strength of Superman to hurl a desk chair through a shatterproof window. Why was he blaming me for this?
WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 65
“What? I wasn't even near the window!”
He turned away for some quiet communication between him and his bodyguards and
said, “We have to go now, it's dangerous for you to be here.”
Before I could argue with him, he swept me into his arms again and with one guard in front and the other bringing up the rear, we left Lillian's office. A small crowd had gathered in the hallway. Gage stopped, briefly, to tell a shocked Lillian that he would pay for a new chair and window before walking briskly to the bank of elevators in the center of the building. The crowd parted for us without a word.
We passed Guy Small on our way out and he stepped back so quickly, he fell over a file cart, scattering papers and file folders around him like a giant paper flower had bloomed in the hallway.
I tried to squirm away from him in the elevator, but Gage's arms tightened around me making me breathless and I decided to stay still for the moment. Two more guards joined us as we stepped out of the elevator at the first floor and I watched in amazement, as the normally taciturn building security guard took one look at us and ran to open the doors.
We hurried out into watery Portland sunshine. I saw several passers by give us cursory glances before hurrying away when seeing the shoulder holsters and knives carried by the Kevlar vest wearing guards. All the guards had grim faces and were well over six feet tall and built like brick walls, I didn't want to see what would happen if anyone tried anything.
A long, black limousine was waiting at the curb and another guard silently glided around the side of the car to open the door for us while scanning the pedestrians walking by with suspicious, hard eyes. I had a moment to wonder how many guards Gage had and why he needed them, before being bundled into the car.
The limousine was warm and dim inside. I scooted across the leather seat as Gage settled himself opposite me. He folded his large body into the seat and I had the thought that he seemed strange confined in this small space. He wasn't someone who liked to sit still for long periods.
Most of my dreams of him had him doing something active; jogging, swimming, working, sometimes jogging and working at the same time. He had an energetic personality, the air around him seemed to crackle with vitality.
I had never been in a limousine before and I viewed with interest a small television and DVD player set into the back of the driver's seat and dim strip lighting along the ceiling that glowed a relaxing amber.
I turned on the tv and pressed the channel button, surprised to see local channels flashing by. How did they get cable television in a car? I turned the stereo on and off and then flipped through the radio stations trying to find a good song, finally giving up when it seemed every station had morning programs on instead of music.
I watched, from the corner of my eye, as Gage stripped his wool coat from his shoulders, loosened his silvery gray tie and leaned forward a bit to look me over with a penetrating stare that had me squirming nervously.
The sounds of the city outside were dim and with a thick layer of tinted glass separating us from the chauffeur I felt adrift in space, removed from the world I knew. The silence in the car was uncomfortably intimate and I made a show of adjusting my skirt to cover my knees. I gave my shirt a tug until the collar was lined up with the lapels of my jacket and checked to make sure that all of the buttons were fastened.
I could tell that my hair was messy even without a mirror. I just have that kind of hair, it WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 66
waved out instead of in and the curls poked up in strange ways around my head. But without a comb and styling gel, there wasn't a lot I could do about it. So, with a mental shrug, I dropped my hands to my lap and tried to keep them still and relaxed.
Basically, all this primping had been to waste time. I am not usually a procrastinator, but a cowardly part of me cringed away from talking with Gage about what happened in Lillian's office. I looked up to see what he was doing and found him in the same position, leaning forward, watching me with narrowed eyes.
“You did break that window Anna,” he said quietly, his eyes willed me to believe him.
I was about to protest when he said, “Do you remember Laurent said he sensed a muting spell on you?”
I nodded, not sure what he was talking about but I was sure I could catch up with a little patience. Sadly, I realized I often had this feeling of disorientation when I was around him.
Like walking into the middle of a Hitchcock film, I had a dim idea of what was going on and hoped I would figure it out before the end credits rolled.
He continued, “When you hit puberty you should have come into your powers. Generally witches start around the time of their first menses. The magic starts small, you would have practiced shaping the magic, learning to control it. When you use magic it leaves a trail. If Celia had started training you when you were twelve or thirteen we could have found you years ago, just by tracing the magic. But Celia was smart, she placed a muting spell on you so that you never had any magic before today, nothing for us to track you with. It wasn't a strong spell, just enough to keep your magic from leaking out and it kept her from using magic too, since she had to use all her energy to renew the spell. All of her powers were being used up keeping you from using yours and hiding hers. Usually, it takes a couple of years for a new witch or wizard to exhibit big magic and by the time they do they have learned to control the leaks that inevitably happen when you’re stressed or scared.”
He shifted forward in his seat, his eyes large and intense on mine, I gulped as he continued, “In your case, you have your full powers but have never learned to use them so they are slipping out without your knowledge or control. That's dangerous Anna. Like a pot boiling over. You could hurt people, you could hurt yourself. You could be leaking power while you drift off to sleep or if you are distracted by a scary book or a romantic song. Any time you aren't fully focused and aware of yourself you're leaking magic. You could wake up to a house on fire if you aren't careful. I have to get you out of the city. Somewhere safe for you to practice.
Somewhere far away from people and buildings, breakable things.”
“I didn't break that window!” I said.
Sometimes when I am angry or frustrated, I cry. I could feel tears burning in my eyes and I, more than anything, didn't want to cry in front of him. I felt so mad though. I didn't want to be a woman that broke windows and could accidentally hurt people. I would never hurt people.
He shook his head and sighed, “You did. I know you didn't mean to, but you got scared and that's what happens when the magic gets away from you. You have to learn control it. I can help you master it if you'll let me.”
I slumped back in my seat. I twirled my foot to the side and examined my shoe, it was my sturdiest pair of pumps, with a chunky, stacked wood heel, a rounded toe and a strong ankle strap with a largish, gold buckle. They were pretty comfortable too and I thought I could run in them if I had to. I watched as the big car maneuvered the crowded streets and I almost pulled the WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 67
door open and hopped out as we neared Powell's bookstore.
There were several buses that ran through this part of town, it would take just a moment to catch one that would take me all the way to my St. John's apartment or I could catch a bus to Patty's place. She would put me up for the night while I tried to figure out what to do next.
But what if I had an accident? What if I burnt up Patty's house or smashed in a wall and crushed her? How would I live with myself if I hurt her?
Besides, Gage would just come after me again I thought with a sigh. I looked him over objectively. He easily topped me by several inches. His legs were long and muscular, his thigh muscles strained against the fine wool of his pants and I had no doubt that if I were to run, he would catch me faster than I could say 'Hocus Pocus!'
I had 'been' with him during several of his runs. He was fast and strong. I ran a comfortable twelve minute mile, I was winded but not breathless when I was done and my heart rate reached its target beats per minute which was the goal, of course.
His average speed, I would estimate, was a seven minute mile and he kept up that pace for a grueling hour two to three times a week. Even at my most ambitious I couldn't manage more than fifty minutes before I limped home, sweaty and as tired as a toddler at Disneyland.