Beyond Your Touch (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

 

—From the Scroll of Zitherod.
Translation by Dr. Rupert Bancroft Walpole

 

 

C
hase gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Don't worry. They'll be fine.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But no one's going to convince me that acquiring an artifact like that isn't risky, most likely downright dangerous. And there's the little issue of how legal it is—and getting it past customs and into this country.”

“They know what they're doing.”

“I suppose.” Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the sheep once again wandering in the direction of the open gateway. Chase must have noticed them too because he took off after them, whistling and waving his arms to herd them back into the yard. I raced after a couple of stragglers. And in no time at all, we had the whole flock across the lawn, funneling up a footpath toward their shedlike barn and pasture.

“Must be a break in the fence,” Chase said as we stopped to catch our breath.

I moved in close to him. “I'd stay and help you look for it, but it sounds like Kate's expecting me.” I tilted my chin up and looked into his eyes, hoping to score a last-minute kiss.

“Yeah, I'm curious to hear more about what's going on too.” His voice betrayed nothing, but the smolder in his ocean-deep eyes told me that I was going to get my way, and that perhaps he was recalling a bit of the Doughnut Olympics as well.

A flutter of desire danced in my stomach. I raked my fingers up his chest and readied to go up on my tiptoes. But a pang of anxiety mingled with the flutters, and I lowered my hands and gaze. I needed to finish talking about my worries before we got distracted by more pleasant things. Besides, getting it all out with him would make it easier to face Kate.

I took a deep breath. “It's not just the Slovenia trip that's bothering me. I'm terrified about what comes next. It sounds awful, but—” I looked back up. “I love my mom. I want her back. But my dad . . . I hate the idea of him vanishing into their realm like she did, whether he has a magic flute or not. We just saved him from one genie. I don't want to lose him to another one. And I know there's no way to talk him out of going.”

Chase brushed a wisp of hair back from my face. “Nothing's going to go wrong.” He slid his fingers down my jawline, gave me a quick peck on the lips, then turned away and started toward the footpath. Miffed that he hadn't gone in for a real kiss and convinced he was finished talking, I was about to go after him and launch into all the reasons why everything could go wrong, when I heard him mumble, “I'll make sure of it.”

“What?” I said, hoping I'd heard wrong and mortified by what it could mean.

He kept walking up the footpath, wading through the sheep.

My cheeks burned with anger. He couldn't be planning to . . . he wouldn't!

I stormed up the path, sheep bawling and pushing forward. I caught up with him at the barnyard gate. My voice rose an octave. “You can't just say something like that and walk away. You're not going to the realm. You can't.”

He tugged the gate open and the sheep siphoned through. “I shouldn't have said anything,” he muttered.

“Well, I'm glad you did. I'm terrified enough for Dad. But you? It's too dangerous.”

His unflinching eyes locked with mine, nailing the truth to my heart. “Who would you rather have go, your uncle David or someone like Tibbs who doesn't know a thing about the realm?”

The ache in my chest transformed into a numbing chill. I wished with every inch of my being that it weren't the case, but he was right. Plus, I totally understood that his desire went beyond his knowledge of the realm and the djinn. My mother had been the closest thing he'd had to a mom in the realm and she'd given up her chance for escape so he could get away.

He pulled the gate shut, then rested his hands on its top rail and stared out at the sheep and the hillside beyond it. When he spoke, it was as if he were talking to himself as much as to me. “I knew it wouldn't be long before we'd have to go to the realm. I should have been expecting it, should have been training, getting in the zone. But—you and me—I lost track of things.”

I slipped up next to him and ran my hand along the rail until my pinky nudged his. “I'm sorry I yelled at you. I mean, I was scared before and now—” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I know you have to go. It's better for everyone. And I promise, between now and then, I'm going to help find the safest possible way for you all to do it.”

The sheep had wandered farther off now, heading out of the barnyard and up toward the cemetery that was their favorite place to graze. Up there was a headstone with my mother's name on it. My grandmother's grave was up there too.

A sick feeling crashed over me and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold back a flood of painful memories. Since a few weeks ago when I'd broken the spell Aunt Kate had used to protect me from the anguish of remembering my mother's kidnapping, a million flashes from my early childhood had returned to me, too many memories to fully comprehend at once. But over time their meanings and connections had become clear. Some were wonderful. Others—like the ones roiling in my head right now—haunted me and filled me with shame.

Chase slid his hand over mine, the warmth of his touch driving off the memories for a second. “When I'm with you, I don't think about anything else.” His voice lowered, almost to a whisper. “It's not easy, keeping my aura under control so no one will see it. Letting go when I'm with you, the rush of being myself is better than anything else. But Annie—when I go into the realm, I need to have total focus and control. . . .”

His voice faded into the distance as the memories assaulted me again. I had to tell him what I'd recalled, especially with the reality of my mother's rescue and homecoming drawing close. If I kept what had happened to myself, the guilt and shame would burn a hole right through me. If anyone deserved blame for my mother being trapped in the djinn realm it wasn't him. It was me. “Chase,” I said softly.

He turned toward me. “Yeah?”

The morning sun slanted across his face, sending shadows gliding along his jawline. I could have stared at that face forever, the strength of its lines, the hint of dark stubble, his tan, his dark cropped hair, his amazing eyes. He was beautiful, and he was about to risk his life to keep my dad safe and rescue my mom. Lives I should be saving because I alone was responsible for setting in motion the events that led to her kidnapping—and to my grandmother's death.

My chest tightened and I swallowed back my words. Telling him would ease my anxiety. But he had enough to think about without shouldering my secrets. Besides, I wanted to enjoy every minute I could with him. Once—or if—Mother came back, decisions would have to be made: if she and Dad were going to live here or go back to our house in Vermont, where I was going to stay . . . things like that. It seemed far off in the future right now, but I'd also planned on taking a Sotheby's course in London this fall, to work toward my goal of becoming a certified fine art appraiser. Dad had even agreed to pay for it. I had to decide if I still wanted to do that. “Nothing,” I said. “It just—it kind of pissed me off when you didn't kiss me. Like, really kiss me.”

An amused smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and a glisten sparkled in his eyes. “You sure you can handle it?”

A wildfire ignited inside me and I giggled as he dramatically swept one hand around my waist, dipping me backward like a Disney prince sweeping his princess into a kiss. His lips smothered my laughter. I hooked my hands around his neck and returned his kiss, openmouthed, our lips and tongues teasing and tantalizing each other's. His lips withdrew for a heartbeat, then returned even more insistent, his free hand claiming my chin, holding me prisoner, making me surrender to a round of even more sultry kisses. A blast of pleasure shuddered through me and I groaned. His lips left mine, nibbling their way to my ear.

“Better?” he whispered.

“And then some.” I could barely breathe.

“I'm thinking one more,” he said.

Two or maybe three kisses after that, I drifted back to the cottage, squashed on my helmet, and took off on the ATV. As I headed up the driveway, I was lost in the buzz still zinging through my body and the vibrating hum of the engine. But when I reached where the drive overlooked the sprawling main house and the ocean beyond, my searing guilt and shame returned with a vengeance, and those unrelenting memories hit me full force.

Whispers wake me. I crack my eyes open. I'm in Mama's bed, in her and Daddy's room. Everything is blue and hazy, moonlit. A broad-shouldered man with a bare chest and a shaved head is holding Mama, kissing her.
Another memory follows:
I stand in the hallway outside the room. Grandmother kneels in front of me, her gentle hands cupping my face, so much love in her gray-blue eyes. She asks me something and it makes my stomach hurt. I raise my chin and lie. “No, I haven't seen Mama with a man.”
A day or maybe a week later:
Moonhill's parlor is filled with yellow roses, the air heavy with their scent. Mama, Daddy, everyone's crying. Grandma. Sudden death. A curse? A strange illness? Roses everywhere. I push a thorn against my thumb, tears flooding down my face as a voice inside me chants: “Liar. Liar.”

I gave the ATV as much gas as I dared and flew full-tilt down the hill toward the house, focusing on the bite of the wind against my face, struggling to shove those painful memories aside. But try as I might, I couldn't forget what they'd already made perfectly clear: If I'd told Grandmother the truth, then she would have known for sure that Malphic was visiting Mother. She would have told everyone, protected herself, and done something to free Mother from his grip before he kidnapped her. Still, remembering wasn't what was important and changing the past was impossible. The only thing I could do now was help with the plans to free my mother and bring her home again—and, by doing so, start to set right what my lie had put into motion.

I parked the ATV in the garage, then strode to the front door and into the mansion's museum-like foyer. My sneakers squeaked against the marble floor as I marched to the west wing hallway. It was silent and dark, except for the flicker of light coming from the mirror-backed display cases, packed with whirring apparatuses.

When I reached the door to Kate's study, I took a deep breath, knocked once, and let myself in.

Kate sat behind her desk. Most people with a bandaged neck and arm would look haggard. But not my aunt Kate. Even her lingering bruises only served to make her look more like a dominatrix than usual, not like a weakened woman recovering from a battle with genies.

Next to her desk, my cousin Selena lounged in a chair with her legs stretched out in front of her. Her blond hair swished across her back as she pivoted to smile at me.

“Hey, Cousin,” she said, “haven't seen you all morning. Did you get my text?”

“Ah—no. I was kind of busy.” I settled into the chair next to her.

Kate wrinkled her nose at me. “It would appear you've been out somewhere?”

I attempted to flick my helmet-flattened hair back, but my fingers snagged on a jelly-sticky snarl. I grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, ATV riding.”

“Of course you were,” Kate said. Then she cleared her throat. “Whatever. We're not here to discuss your hobbies.”

The f-word danced on the tip of my tongue, but I pressed my lips into a reserved smile and resisted the urge to say it out loud. Not reacting was more likely to get under Kate's skin.

“I'm assuming both of you know that the men have gone to acquire a flute?” she asked.

Selena shifted upright, crossing her legs. “Mom said you and her are working on making the Methuselah oil scent-free?”

“Yes. The plan is to have that done before the men return.”

I tilted my head, taking it all in. When Kate and Selena's dad had attempted to rescue my mother five years ago, they'd used the oil of Methuselah to prevent their bodies from becoming ethereal in the djinn realm. Unfortunately the oil had a strong odor that the genies detected. Kate and David had managed to escape with Chase, but the warning set off by the oil had given Malphic all the time he needed to seal the veil with a quick warding spell before Mother could get through. Still—judging by the way Kate was nervously fiddling with her signet ring—I suspected the oil wasn't the only issue this time.

“Dad said you're only
fairly sure
this flute idea will work,” I said, pinning her with a pointed look.

She pursed her lips. “That's not quite accurate.”

I swallowed a smile.
Gotcha.
The ability to read body language had its perks, at auctions and times like this.

Without taking her eyes off me, Kate plastered on a fake smile as if she'd figured out what I'd noticed. “We are
certain
it will work. But we're missing a vital piece of the puzzle. We still don't know how the flute-magic works—what combination of notes can force the veil open and break wards, if additional spells are required, those sort of details.”

I snorted. “That's a pretty major stumbling block. Isn't it a bit ridiculous to go all the way to Slovenia for a flute before you know how to use it?”

“What you've failed to take into consideration is that flutes like this don't become available every time one turns around.”