Honey House (21 page)

Quinn shook his head, and so did Owen beside him. It was really a bit eerie how much the two of them reminded me of each other. If I took the head shakes to mean neither of the men was wolfy, it still left the question of how they knew about spells and such.

“What are the two of you then? Wizards or something? Because I know you’re something. I can feel the power that rolls from you. You know about spells. Can you perform spells, too?”

Again, both men shook their heads, and then Quinn buried his face in his hands. Not as though he were lying, but as though he just didn’t want to talk any more. The atmosphere in the room was changing. It was electric, as if heat lightning was about to crackle over our heads.

Owen draped an arm over the larger man’s shoulder, offering comfort when I hadn’t realized any was needed. The two men sat together, hip touching hip, Owen’s arm around Quinn. I stared, all anger suddenly turned into a white-hot desire.

I had a sudden flash of Quinn on his back, his beautiful hair spread over red satin sheets, his hard body stretched endlessly before me. Naked and most definitely interested.
What the fuck?

Chapter Eighteen

This
was
a dream, wasn’t it? I was standing in my living room, not naked in a bed with Quinn. I was still enough in control of myself to realize that this vision of Quinn was something other than real. Oh God, the dreams were coming for me again. I was breathing fast, first from the promise of pleasure, now from the beginnings of panic.

Quinn gently kissed me and chased away the edge of fear.

“Come back to me now, Katie,” he whispered, his breath hot against my mouth.

Two pairs of arms held me upright. With one at my front and the other at my back, the realization that I was now part of a Quinn and Owen sandwich brought me all the way back to reality. I was still wearing Owen’s shirt and Quinn was still in his blue jeans and tee. No one was naked and there were no red satin sheets.

Owen’s long arms reached around me from behind, his hands resting lightly on Quinn’s hips, keeping us all close. The warm cocoon of the embrace felt like the safest place in the world. Owen seemed content to hold me while Quinn chased away the dreams with gentle kisses.

The familiar earthy scent of Quinn mixed pleasantly with the equally elemental scent of Quinn. As if I were suddenly standing in the middle of a great forest, I inhaled sharply, drawing in the smells of pine, juniper, with an undertone of rich loamy soil. The kind I wanted to sink my hands into.  

Quinn brushed his lips over mine once more then pulled back and stared at me, as though he was willing me to understand something. The message was lost to me in the sensations of the moment. I was drowning in pleasure, overwhelmed by the feel of these two men.

“Quinn? Owen? What’s happening?”

Without answering, Quinn looked over my shoulder at Owen. I glanced up just in time to see their gazes meet in a flash of heat lightening that left the three of us scorched and the scent of ozone in the air.

Before I could pull back in shock, Quinn bent his head for one last kiss. Then he turned on his heel and left my apartment, closing the door firmly behind him.  

****

Once Quinn left, Owen and I moved apart. I headed for the couch, he for the kitchen to pour fresh drinks. “Is the spell really broken? How do I know the memories won’t come back the next time I sleep?”

“The spell is well and truly broken, KC. It couldn’t stand against the powerful magick the three of us called. The only dream likely to still linger is the one of your vision of Quinn.”

I shivered, only half with pleasure. “What was that?” I whispered.

“Powerful magick,” Owen answered just as softly, as he returned to sit near me on the couch. “You called magick, and his joined yours. Then I added mine.” He shook his head before I could ask. “I can’t tell you what you are, but there is an element of love to your magick. It’s the same with Quinn and me. That’s why the emotions were so raw, so confusing in here tonight.”

I started to ask what magick, but Owen cut me off. “No, KC, I’ll not tell you what kind of magick Quinn and I have. That’s for after you discover your own.”

I sighed. My naiveté was officially gone. Doubt and disbelief were luxuries I could no longer afford. Werewolves were real. Spells, potions, and witches were real. I was having real visions of the future when I told fortunes. What other fairy tales would turn out to be true? Vampires? Zombies? I tucked my feet up under me, sipped at my drink, and struggled to understand all that Owen was telling me.

Lightly brushing his fingertips over my arm, Owen continued. “There were two major elements to what happened to you. The potion made you susceptible to the spell. It lowered your natural psychic defenses. It wouldn’t have taken much, just a few drops into your favorite lotion or in your soap. Something that your skin came into contact with everyday.

“It was the spell that truly was dangerous. The Dark Maker spell is a dark magick. Only a few people would have the ability and knowledge necessary to cast it. The spellcaster was powerful enough to keep the spell attached to you even after you left the area,” Owen said.

“Who? Who would want to do this? Who
could
do it? The only witch I know is Amelia, and she brought me back here, so I don’t think it’s her,” I said. “I don’t know any other witches.”

Owen looked at me strangely for a minute. “How do you know Amelia is a witch?” he asked.

“She isn’t?” I gasped. “She said she was. Was she lying?”

Shaking his head, Owen allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. “No, Amelia is definitely a most powerful witch. What I asked was, how do you know Amelia is a witch?”

“Because she told me,” I said. I let the frustration in my voice show. I didn’t like playing games and I didn’t understand what it was that Owen wanted me to know.

“Exactly. She
told
you. Yet you are magickal enough that you should be able to sense when someone is a powerful witch. Close your eyes, KC. Think back over your encounters with Amelia, what can you sense—no, that’s not quite right. What can you taste that is different about her? Have you met any others with that same…flavor?”

I closed my eyes and pictured Amelia in her glowing neon caftans. I tried to look past the fluff of her, to taste the essence. I poked around in the memories, tested the sense of her when we were in a room together. It was like staring at one of those hidden pictures. I could only see it one way. Then my inner gaze shifted and suddenly I could see another image of Amelia superimposed upon the first. It was a smoky and diffused light, a blurring of the edges. It didn’t hide her, it was as though another layer had been added to the image of her in my mind.

I gasped and opened my eyes. “I can see it,” I said excitedly. “It’s like I’m seeing her through a different lens.”

Owen smiled. “Yes. Now, think over others you’ve met since you’ve been here. Look for a pattern. Is there anyone else that has a similar layer?”

I started a hit parade of memories walking through my mind, picturing people I’d met since I’d been at the Honey House. The first hit came with a ghost.

“Joanne! I can see it with her, too.”

Owen laughed delightedly, and I shivered at the sound of it. I pressed on. Not Gabrielle. Not Melissa.

“Oh my God—Susan!”

“Yes,” Owen agreed. “Any others?”

“I’ve been through all the women,” I said.

“A little biased, are we? How about the men?” Owen laughed.

Well, call me Miss Unenlightened. I hadn’t even considered the men. I wasn’t even going to think about Owen or Quinn. Comparing those two men to Amelia or Susan would be like comparing saber-tooth tigers and house cats. The women might be dangerous in their own rights, but their power was nothing to what I sensed from Owen or Quinn.

On to the others. Raymond, no. Jason, no. Malcolm…Merkham, no, no.

Another gasp. “Gregory!” I exclaimed.

“Very good. Now think of the three witches you know, examine their interactions with you, look at the layers, does one of them fit this act? Is one of the visions darker when it comes to you?”

Without thinking, I wanted to shout out Susan’s name and Owen knew that. He slowed me with a finger against my lips and instructions to examine the memories first.

“Oh my God…” I said.

“Yes,” Owen answered on an unhappy sigh. “Quinn is on his way there now.”

Chapter Nineteen

Be careful what you ask for. I knew that better than most, but last night I hadn’t been able to resist asking Owen about my recently gained sex appeal. I knew I was reasonably presentable, and I knew that my stand-offish vibes attracted a certain type of man. Those facts didn’t help explain why every man who’d been in my apartment had made moves on me. 

According to Owen, there was some sort of spell on the owner’s apartment that interacted with my unique magick and affected the people who came into my personal space. He didn’t seem particularly interested in learning more about the cause or about the effects. He said I could learn to live with it.

It wasn’t exactly like a love potion, he’d explained, more like the lust that surrounded the goddess Aphrodite. I found that comparison extremely unsettling. He’d laughed at my discomfort and suggested I read Joanne’s Book of Shadows to get a feel for the difference between spells, potions, and personal magick. Of course, he wouldn’t tell me any more about my magick, just reiterated that I would discover it in time.

So this morning I was outside on the patio, eating my breakfast, and trying to read. Unfortunately, the focus necessary to read was absent. I was most definitely bothered by the things Owen had told me. Especially when I thought of my night with Quinn.

Had it taken some external influence to bring us together in such an intimate fashion? I’d been the one to crawl on his lap and initiate the activities. Somehow, given his obvious dislike of me, we’d spent a long night on the loving. To find out that maybe his passion was the result of a spell and he’d been unable to resist me? Gah! That left it feeling a lot like date rape.

Add to that the whole sexual goddess bullshit. It didn’t matter where you put the emphasis.
Fucking
spell or fucking
spell
. None of the men were attracted because of
who
I was. It had more to do with
where
I was. It doesn’t get any less flattering than that.

My coffee sloshed when I slammed the cup on the table, and I quickly moved the book out of the spill zone. I couldn’t believe that on top of everything else, someone called the Dark Maker spell on me. Someone must really hate me.

I was determined to spend the day alone reading through the Book of Shadows until I found a way to remove whatever spell was within the walls of my apartment. I never wanted a command performance from a man again.

I was so lost in self-recriminations that I didn’t even glance at the caller ID when my phone rang.

“KC,” I snapped.

“KC, I’m sorry. I know my behavior was uncalled for. Can you forgive me?” asked an unfamiliar voice.

“Who is this?” I demanded.   

“Edwin. Edwin Merkham. Don’t hang up. I just want to apologize for my boorish behavior.”

“Boorish behavior? Is that what you call kidnapping at gun point?” I snapped.

“I know. I was out of control. I let the story cloud my judgment. I’m sorry.”

“All right, all right, you’ve apologized. Now what do you want?” I said, not worried about sounding polite.

“Yes…well. Uhm—”

“Spit it out.”

“Right. It’s like this, KC. The paper has asked me to tell your story in a more sympathetic light. I’d like to do it with your permission, but they’re going to run the story, with or without you,” he said, speaking fast.

“I already have the full details regarding your background and your foster parents. It’s a classic tragedy of the failure of our system to protect defenseless children from predators like the Pattersons.”

“Look, Merkham—” I broke off, thinking quickly. I needed to head this off as quickly as possible. I didn’t want any more stories about me or Juniper Springs in the paper.

“It’s Edwin, remember? I know you’d probably value your privacy more, but trust me, the paper is going to print this story. Look, this is harder over the phone. I need to head back north for a couple of days anyway. Are there any rooms available at the Honey House?”

It hadn’t escaped my notice that it was time for the full moon again. Merkham had more than one reason he wanted to stay at the Honey House. I
wanted
to lie and tell him that there was no room at the inn. I
wanted
to suggest he’d be more comfortable at one of the chain hotels in Sedona.
I wanted to tell him to fuck off and die.

“Yes,” I answered on a resigned sigh.
Shit.

****

Joanne’s Book of Shadows was a hard cover journal, filled to overflowing with cramped handwritten notes. It was mostly organized as if it were a diary, with every entry in chronological order, starting shortly after she’d received the Honey House from Amelia. She’d recorded most of the spells in the back of the book, like a glossary. The content had been added from both the front and the back and eventually it had met in the middle. Notes spilled into the margins, until there was very little whitespace left. It might take me a lifetime to decipher all her notes.

Even though I was certain I wasn’t a witch, it made sense to gather the information I was learning about spells and magick in one place so I’d taken Amelia’s advice to start my own Book of Shadows. Instead of using my laptop, I decided to follow the traditional method of handwriting my notes. The limits of a bound journal were obvious, so I used a three-ring binder, instead. I added tabs for organizing and extra paper, in case I could think of anything I wanted to write. At this point, the only content in my book was the lunar table. I would never again lose track of the full moon. Not when so much was at stake.

I started thumbing through Joanne’s book, opening to random pages, reading whatever captured my attention. Which was everything. Medicinal plants and herbs. Rituals and holidays. Witch’s familiars. The difference between spells, wards, and intentions. There was so much to learn. And no shortcut to tell me what had been done to my apartment that was making me some kind of man magnet. I closed the book in frustration.