Hot Magic (29 page)

Julie closed her eyes. She had no trouble imagining Harry. His features were stamped on her brain. She placed him in the white room where they’d found Tasha. The wall was up again, and he was alone, standing still in the center of the room. She smelled the faint scent of lemon and the warm, masculine scent that was Harry.

She watched as without warning, he collapsed onto the cell floor. Her hand reached out before she realized she was still just seeing him in her mind. He rolled into a fetal position, his hands holding his head. Small sounds of distress split the pristine silence of the room while Julie watched him struggle in helpless horror.
 

Suddenly, Harry’s face melted into Marguerite’s, and Julie saw the woman on a wide bed in a darkened room, tossing and turning. Marguerite appeared in the throes of a nightmare. She thrashed in her covers and large drops of sweat beaded at her brow before trailing down her face. She mumbled words Julie couldn’t understand.
 

And then Harry was back, standing again. Alert and in control. His gaze swept the room, as if searching for something. She swallowed, nervous as stalked prey. His eyes found hers.

“Do not come back to Gehenna.” He spoke the words out loud with grim force.

I’m not leaving you there. You came to me. I can only do the same.
 

“The risk is greater for you. Find Bas. He’ll get me out.”

Finding Bas was undoubtedly the smart thing to do. Harry could be right. She didn’t know what she risked, being half-demon and hanging out in Gehenna. But she couldn’t walk away. She couldn’t cut the connection and hope Bas would be able to rescue him.

I’m going to get you out.

“No. I forbid it.” His tone commanded, the voice of a male used to being obeyed. The voice of the Balance.

My mom is there, too.
 

Julie used that as an argument, even though she didn’t think her mom would leave Gehenna until she was good and ready.

“Your mother doesn’t need rescuing.” Harry’s voice was dry. “Though Abigor might.”

Be quiet a minute, Harry.

The fact that she was communicating with Harry meant she was accessing some power source, but she needed to mainline into the mother lode if she wanted to get back to Gehenna. Julie tried to send her mind deep into the earth, then into some imaginary power matrix that surrounded the earth. She couldn’t touch even a sizzle of energy let alone wield it. Too bad she didn’t have a simple word she’d been trained to that would open the door to her power. How cool would that be? She tried several of her favorite words on the off chance they’d work.
 

Hot fudge. Chocolate. Mocha.
 

No wonder she couldn’t get that pesky ten pounds off. The words triggered a few cravings, but that’s all. She’d have to go with strong emotion as a trigger.

The problem was that Harry was so damn calm and competent. Now that she could see him, she wasn’t feeling panicky or desperate. Since that brief moment of vulnerability on the floor, he appeared well able to take care of himself. Damn…she bit her mental tongue before she could complete the thought.
 

Saying “damn it” took on a whole new significance when you were part demon. “Darn it” would have to be her expletive of choice from now on. If it turned out her words had some kind of special power, the worst that could happen with that phrase is that the hole in someone’s sock would get fixed.
 

Harry cleared his throat and lifted an eyebrow. “Gehenna to Julie,” he called. “Focus. I want you to go find Bas.”

Would you mind calling out for help?
Maybe that would trigger her power.

“Yes.” He looked affronted by the request.

How about just saying that you really need me?

“What are you up to?” He stared thoughtfully at her.

Harry, please. Just do it.

She heard the whine in her thought and hated it. Suddenly he turned and held up a hand, as if to silence her. He wasn’t alone anymore. A woman appeared in the room.

She stood about as tall as Julie, with sleek, shiny mink-colored hair that had a tendency to curl. On her, the hair looked adorable. Her eyes were large and wide-set, a deep, warm brown, richer than the brown of Julie’s eyes. She had the same oval face and high forehead as Julie, but her cheekbones seemed more defined, her nose straighter, her lips more perfectly formed than Julie’s.
 

Julie blinked in astonishment. The woman looked just like her, only better. Younger, skinnier, prettier—the Photoshop image of her.

Julie’s gaze flew to Harrison. He was watching the woman, his gaze focused, his expression intent.

Harrison. That’s not me. I’m still here in Ann Arbor.

He ignored her, if he even heard her anymore.

“Harry.” The woman had her voice, only deeper and more melodious. She walked up to him and put a hand on his arm.

“Who are you?” Harry asked, which was exactly the question Julie would have asked. Unfortunately, he didn’t jerk the woman’s hand off his arm, which was exactly what Julie would have done.

“Abigor thought you might like some company. I hope you don’t mind.” The woman smiled at Harry.

“Abigor was wrong. I don’t need company.” Harry’s voice was flat. Good, the little hussy wasn’t succeeding in charming him.
 

“Abigor can be a bit of a bastard if one doesn’t do what he says.” The woman dropped her hand and backed up a step. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just sit in a corner. You don’t have to even talk to me if you don’t feel like it.” She walked backward until she hit the wall and sat down with a lack of grace that was, unfortunately, too familiar.

Julie could feel hands on her shoulders as she twisted in agitation.
Harry! She’s a demon. She’s been sent to tempt you! Be strong!

Julie’s channel to Harry must have been switched off. He didn’t even blink when she called out to warn him. The expression on his face was unreadable, which irked her. Harry often looked at Julie, the real Julie—her!—in that same inscrutable way. Okay, so maybe she really didn’t want that aloof, detached look to be her
special look from Harry, but still.

She was going to shake Harry. Then she was going to kill her father. Who did he think he was, sending a Julie Deluxe to Harry? Did he want to torture her, his own daughter?

The hands on her shoulders began rocking her roughly. “Mom!” Tasha’s sharp voice snapped Julie back into her living room. “Mom, are you okay?”

Julie opened her eyes and looked at her daughter’s worried face. “I’m okay, Tash. But Harry could be in big trouble.” She looked at Luc. “We’ve got to find Bas.”

Chapter Sixteen

H
arry considered the beautiful woman who sat against the wall. Her resemblance to Julie was so striking that he felt odd in her presence, pulled toward her yet repelled at same time—his Julie, but not. On an intellectual level, he was tempted to ask her questions, to see how far the replication went. The ability to take on the form of another person was a rare talent. So rare, he’d only heard tales of one other with that power.
 

“Who are you?” he asked again, wanting to get her to speak, telling himself he needed to learn what he could about the limits of this talent.

She tilted her head and met his gaze. Her eyes, the golden brown of aged sherry, were filled with intelligent acceptance. He felt a twinge of admiration at the same time his right fist clenched with anger and other emotions he wouldn’t name. The look was spot-on Julie.

“It’s really great what you did—coming to Gehenna of your own free will. We don’t get many heroes around here. None, actually.” Her voice, just like Julie’s, slid through him and warmed him. He set his jaw. “All that risk and she didn’t even care enough to take you with her.” She leaned forward a little. “Nobody ever cared enough to take you with them, did they? Not your mother, your father or even Bas.”

An old sorrow rose to the surface, quickly followed by anger at himself. The Julie clone unsettled him, even when he knew that was her purpose.
 

Marguerite, who’d been blissfully quiet up to now, laughed. The sound scraped like a cheese grater against his skull. “She thinks you have emotions like the rest of us, le Bilan. She hasn’t seen you sit in judgment on someone. And truly, don’t you have to want to be taken by someone to be left behind?” Marguerite’s presence moved and he felt as if his brain twisted. For a moment, dots appeared before his eyes. He took a deep breath and put a hand against the wall until his vision cleared.
 

Perhaps he should knock his head against this wall until he either drove Marguerite out or lost consciousness. At least he’d be doing something, taking some action. Not being in control drove him mad. He took a closer look at the wall. The sheer idiocy of the idea appealed to him.
 

“You’re not an idiot and never will be,” Marguerite murmured. “You’ve been carefully trained since birth. You’re the Balance. You’ll deal with me and you’ll deal with this situation in a cool, logical manner. That’s your way.”

Marguerite wiggled like a worm in his brain, slithering into dark places, nibbling at and exposing essential parts of him. But she was right. She knew him. At least the parts of him that were easily accessible.
 

He knew her too, though he had no wish to. Her willing participation in the curse had opened the floodgates of her mind. Her strengths and her weaknesses, her fears and her dreams rolled through him. He knew her love for her brother, and the nightmares that drove her to save her grandmother. He also knew what she searched for in the hidden recesses of his brain and why she’d risked so much with this curse. He would do his utmost to keep the knowledge she sought hidden, but given enough time, she would burrow through his shields and find it.
 

And he knew, though she refused to accept it, where her power came from. She was nothing more than a pawn for a master demon.
 

Julie stood and took a step toward him. She studied him, her expression serious. No. Not Julie. This woman was not Julie.

He studied her as well, at first looking for the differences, the elements, that this clone hadn’t matched correctly. But soon he felt his hands actually itch to touch her, to run his thumbs over the smooth skin of her cheek, to let go and lose himself in this fantasy of Julie.

He wanted to blame Marguerite and the curse for his weakness. He suspected, however, that the demons, for the first time in all their years of attempted temptations, had finally discovered his weakness.

“Who are you?” He asked for the third time, truly curious.

“You know who I am.”

“No, I don’t.”
 

Her lips curved in the small, patient smile Julie wore when she thought he was acting crazy. “Yes, you do, Harry. I know who you are, too.” She took another step toward him. “You are strong and good, a man who I truly admire. You have given up your family and your life for your people, to be the Balance. Things are different now. I’m here. You don’t need to be separate and alone anymore. You can trust me not to leave. Let me in. Let me be your family.” She held her hand out.
 

Harry stared at her hand. Family. He had never really thought much about the concept in relation to himself before. The ties that bind families together came in all different strengths—some easily broken, some forged with the strength of steel. One could almost see the strong cables linking Julie to her daughter and her mother. Which made the yearning he felt to take her outstretched hand all the more confounding. Before Julie, he’d never considered the possibility of sharing his life with someone. Yet this simple offer of family, to be part of Julie’s family, was seductive, tempting. He flexed the fingers of one hand, and a searing bolt of pain crashed through his temples.

Nails in his head. Marguerite in a towering rage of fear.
 

“The Dancer is not here.” Marguerite’s urgent voice jabbed him.
 

“Be still, Moonflower.” He issued the command in a firm tone, despite the pain rippling through his skull. “I am aware of that.”
     

“Harry.” The Julie clone smiled with uncertainty, her hand still outstretched toward him. “Harry?”
 

“Harrison,” he said. “My name is Harrison.”

She watched him for a moment. The edge in her smile as she dropped her hand iced his backbone. “You’re going to cause me problems, Harrison Chevalier. But we’ve got time. Lots of it.”

Harrison didn’t bother to respond. He turned his back on her and moved to the corner of the room farthest away from her. He took a deep breath, searching for his calm, balanced center. He took another breath and felt his muscles tense. The simple exercise was now impossible.

There was no calm center in his head, only endless noise and chaos.
 

Marguerite chattered like a magpie as she paced the cool stone flooring of her bedroom. “Stay as far away from the demon as you can, Balance. You’re not thinking clearly. I will find le Hibou. He’ll get you out.”

Her fear fluttered wildly, battering against his consciousness like the wings of a trapped moth. She had reason to worry. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He wanted Julie. He wanted her to hold out her hand to him and ask him to be part of her family. Bollocks. He’d gone mad as a hatter. Le Hibou, Marguerite had said. The owl. Where the hell was Bascule?