Believe the Magic Read online

  I had zoned out, imagining what I’d say when I pounded my fist on Sam’s mahogany table. The cops were leaving. Exiting the building without so much as saying “boo” to me. I could swear Sara said stuff about me being suspended mid-air.

  “Where did she go?” Althea muttered, wrapping her arms around her chest.

  Sara shrugged and perched on the end of Althea’s desk. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it, huh? They don’t believe the first word we said.”

  I glanced down. Yep, purple sweater, black leggings, right there. I poked my leg. Flesh, I felt it. How could I be invisible? I walked up to Sara and waved my hand in front of her face.

  Damn, now this could be dangerous. She couldn’t see me.

  But then she got up and walked square into me.

  “Shit, Ella, you scared me. Where’d you go? The police were just here.”

  “I, uh, felt sick to my stomach. Had to run to the ladies room.”

  Althea eyed me warily. I circled her desk with a tight smile and went back to grab my purse.

  Things were not getting better. Weirder definitely. I walked out to my car, fighting the urge to laugh hysterically at it all. Life hadn’t been perfect before yesterday, but at least I’d known what was happening to me.

  This was going to be one heck of a story to tell—if I ever got to the bottom of it.

  Chapter Three

  Quentin was sitting on my doorstep. I was tempted to drive on by, but that would have been obvious. I gunned the engine. Obvious schmovious, who cares? But the little soft spot in my heart, damn it anyway, forced the U-turn.

  “You’re not coming in.”

  He followed me anyway.

  “Quiggle, you can’t—”

  “It’s Quentin.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. It doesn’t matter; I don’t intend to have you in my house or in my life. So take your silly name and have a nice life. After you help me get these gems off.”

  “It’s too late for that you know.”

  “Nah, you’re still within punting distance of the door.”

  He tilted his head. I really wished he wouldn’t do that. “The gems, Ella. They aren’t coming off.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I need your help. Your power.”

  So take it already. Maybe my little rut wasn’t so bad. Predictable at least. “I’d want nothing more than to rip this forsaken—OW!”

  “Don’t do that. The magic doesn’t like you to insult it.”

  I know what I wanted to call it. “If I thought any harder about it I just might say to hell with it and figure out how to get it off. But somehow, I think Sam would hunt me down and make me pay.”

  He stuck out his bottom lip and nodded. I grinned and pulled a Sprite from the fridge. I didn’t offer one to Quentin, but he followed my steps and helped himself.

  “Did I say you could have that?”

  “No.”

  “Then?”

  Another shrug. I was tempted to buy fifty pound dumbbells and tie them to his wrists so he’d be forced to answer to me. “Talk to me or get out. I am so not in the mood for games.”

  “Life’s a game, Ella.”

  “Yeah, and so is Chutes and Ladders. So find one already and exit my apartment.”

  “I really need to understand why Sam chose you.”

  “Because I walked into his store and bought a gypsy’s belt and a few scarves.”

  He shook his head this time. At least it was different. And it made his hair fall into his eyes. That was almost cute. “Try again.”

  “Because I’m cute and funny and available. I don’t know.” I threw my arms out, managing to forget I had a can of soda in one hand and liberally sprinkling my counter and floor with it.

  “Well, it’s certainly not for your grace.”

  He pissed me off. I slammed the can on the table, ignoring the additional soda that bubbled over the top. So there we were, toe to toe, nearly nose to nose. I stabbed a finger into his chest. Hard. Tight. Why did I have to remember that glimpse of his toned body I’d seen earlier?

  Focus, Ella. “You. You are not welcome in my house.”

  “You said that already.” He had the balls not to look the least bit worried.

  “You will not question what Sam does or says in relation to me.”

  “A bit protective of a man who’s basically using you, aren’t you?”

  “Shut up,” I snapped. Fury brought my hand up and caused it to make fiery contact with his cheek. That, I think, got his attention. I know I saw sparks when I hit him. My hand was a bit red and stung. He held his hand over his cheek.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, pulling his hand away. “Let me look.”

  There wasn’t a mark on his cheek. Can’t say I wasn’t tempted to try again, but I did worry about that power thing.

  He gripped both my wrists.

  Oh no, we weren’t trying that again. “Let go of me,” I demanded. Last time he’d gotten this close to the beads he’d tried to move them or something—I don’t know what but I didn’t trust him.

  “Maybe,” he started, “since you’re such a violent wench you should weaken the necklace until we’re ready to use it.”

  “Weaken it?” I jerked a hand free and covered my throat. “How?”

  He nodded his head toward the hallway leading into the rest of my apartment. “Go to the bathroom mirror. Slide the gems back apart to where they were.”

  “And why do I want to weaken them? So you can overpower me?”

  “So you don’t kill the both of us. You have no idea what you’re doing with the magic.”

  He was right. Still, I would rather trust Sam about this. Sam hadn’t tackled me or demanded I use my magic. He’d told me not to. I sucked in a deep breath. Magic. Yep. I was really having this conversation, rationalizing like a magical necklace is something gotten from the antique store any day. “Fine. Just leave it alone for now. Maybe you’ll keep your distance if you don’t trust me. I need Sam.” What I needed was answers.

  I should never have remained standing toe-to-toe with this man for so long. He leaned in and nibbled on my neck right under the jaw line. Who knew that would be so sensitive.

  “Quentin?”

  “Hmmm.”

  “I am not going to allow you to seduce me.”

  “I’m flattered you think that way, I was just…tasting.”

  “Tasting?” That’s so not enough. “I don’t know you. Don’t think I want to know anything about you.” Just the feel of your body against mine.

  He stepped back and rubbed his hands together. “Good, it went from ‘get out of my house’ to ‘I don’t think I want to know you better.’“

  I couldn’t do anything but stare at him.

  I heard footsteps on the wood floor behind me. From Quentin’s crooked smile I guessed who it was.

  “Hi, Sam.” I whirled. “We have to talk.”

  “Yes, we do.” Sam walked calmly across the floor and ultimately leaned against my kitchen counter.

  “Here?” I had to voice it. I was still trying to understand how these men had made themselves at home in my kitchen.

  “Why not—we’re all here. Now.”

  “Too bad I didn’t call Popeye’s Chicken to cater the affair.”

  To my surprise, Sam turned to Quentin, “Don’t you just appreciate her?”

  Quentin’s weary sigh was his answer.

  I threw my arms up. “Thanks. Talk about respect. Where’s mine?”

  Sam pointed to my neck. “It’s all right there.”

  “Yeah, in this case the flea collar is more important than the mutt wearing it.”

  Quentin snorted, but Sam remained with his hands on his hips. “I did not expect this to be a circus show.” Sam squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

  “What? I didn’t say anything. It was her.” Quentin was kind enough to point square at me.

  I opened my mouth to answer. And it was going to be a doozy. Sam beat me to the
punch. Not that it was as good as mine would have been.

  “Well, I could say it was your fault, Quentin. If you hadn’t abused your power, you would get to do this alone.”

  “So what am I, the babysitter?” I expected Quentin, who I determined had the body of a god and the mentality of a ten year old, to stick his tongue out at that quip.

  He flipped me off instead.

  “Hey, that’s not nice.” I was tempted to revert in age and hurl the teakettle at his head. Then I realized I could do it without walking over to the stove.

  “No magic in fighting. Not among ourselves.” Sam held up a hand and stopped me cold. I really hated it when he did that. “Might we have a civil conversation?”

  I cast a glance toward Quentin, who wore a smile that was begging to be wiped from his face. I’d get him. Sometime or another. For Sam I plastered on a cheesy grin and waited for him to speak.

  “What we need to focus on will require your maturity, common sense and quick thinking. And the proper use of your powers to keep you safe. Bergestein,” Sam directed his comment at Quentin, “has the third set of gems. My set. There are only four gems he does not control. Mine and yours.” Sam shifted his gaze to me.

  “The ones you stole from me?” Quentin cleared my telephone stand with a sweep of his arm.

  “Hey!” I shouted, ready to do damage to him right here. The punk.

  “Ella, get back. None of this will matter. We must leave immediately. He already has a good lead on us.”

  “No way. I’m not going anywhere without an explanation to whatever it was you babbled off about just now.”

  “I’ll explain when we get there,” Sam said with a sigh.

  I shook my head. “What’s this about sets of gems?” I demanded while shifting my weight and crossing my hands over my arms. “Your set, his set, stolen sets. I’m so lost.”

  “There are five sets of original gems, ten total. I—my family—used to have them all. They’ve been stolen. I’ve got one set and you’ve got one set. Now let’s go.”

  “Hold on, hold on. I want to understand. Quentin used to have gems but you took them away? Why can’t you take mine away and leave me out of this?”

  “Can’t. Won’t. Doesn’t matter.” Sam was in hurry. But so was I. For answers.

  “So this…Booger guy has a set, right? Still two more left.”

  “Bergestein has three sets total. Quentin here didn’t know that. But since he’s been such a—”

  “At least I didn’t lose my set.” Quentin bristled.

  They weren’t helping. Much. Ten gems, divided into five sets. Still a million more questions. “Who’s Bergestein?”

  “Bad guy,” Sam answered. “Honestly, Ella, that’s all you need to know right now. I’ll tell you more once we get out of here.”

  “What about this recruiting thing?”

  Sam rubbed his hand over his hair. “Huh?”

  Quentin at least was nice enough to start picking some of the things off the floor and putting them back on the table. He, for the most part, was ignoring this part of the conversation. “You said earlier you’d recruited us.”

  “There’s little rhyme or reason to the recruiting. I needed someone right away. You were lucky enough to fit the profile. You have few ties here and you are open to magic—I tested you by flashing some magical visions at you when you came into the shop.”

  “So I hung myself by walking in for costume jewelry.” I couldn’t believe it. But had to when Sam shrugged at me. Quentin didn’t seem surprised by the news either. Unbelievable. I was already a sucker for people in need, but there was something…frustrating about not having a say in my own destiny.

  “Listen, we’ve got to get those gems back from Bergestein.”

  “Wait.” My turn to hold up my hand. Sam raised an eyebrow. Yeah, buddy, you had better listen to me. “You are sending Quentin the Wonder Boy with me to find this Booger guy and steal the necklace back?”

  Sam leaned back and smiled. “Precisely. Though not one necklace. Three. Six gems. They might not be on necklaces, you understand.”

  “And you are doing what?”

  “Coming with you.”

  I looked from one to the other. Both had wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “I am feeling so not with the program here, men. Does one of you want to share some details with me?”

  “Details?” Sam ran a hand over his neatly styled hair. “Like?”

  “How do I work this damn thing?” I pulled down the neckline of my sweater and exposed the necklace. The beads felt like an extension of my pulse, throbbing against my neck.

  “You’re doing great.” Sam winked at me. “But you should move them apart a bit. You might do a little more damage than you think with them like that.”

  He walked over to help me. “Don’t you even think about laying your hands on me,” I warned, backing up against the table. I would climb it if I had to.

  He stepped back. I bit my tongue before I could make some sarcastic comment about him retreating back to his corner. I glowered at Quentin, who looked above it all and quite amused.

  “Just tell me what I need to do.” I sighed. They weren’t going to go away, were they?

  “No, not leaving.” Sam smiled. He enjoyed showing off he knew what I was thinking. I couldn’t help it. I glanced at Quentin and thought of his earlier kiss. “Ella, did you have to do that?”

  Two could play at that game.

  “Wha?” came Quentin’s delayed reaction when he caught us both smiling at him.

  I turned back to Sam, feeling a little more in control. “Okay. I’m ready. Make this weaker.”

  Gritting my teeth, I lifted my fingers to the beads and braced for the shock. Wouldn’t Quentin enjoy the sight of me writhing with the impact of an electric jolt? Too bad he failed to realize he was the one capable of doing just that.

  I listened as if my life depended on it while Sam spoke. Who knows, it might come to that. It was more difficult than I expected, but the necklace did little more than pulsate when I slid the beads to the sides of my neck.

  My powers suitably weakened, Sam left to make arrangements for our trip. Quentin stayed behind to help me “practice the magic.”

  Yippee, just what I wanted. I even clapped my hands in sarcastic glee.

  “Yeah, well, it’s not my cup of tea, either.”

  “We really should try to get along.”

  “I bet I know how we could.” His eyes did that mystical green to black to green again fade. “Oh, you know what I’m thinking. Don’t think your face doesn’t reflect the idea.”

  I quickly thought of something distasteful. Scrubbing the toilet. That would change my mood in a hurry.

  He just laughed at me. “It’s inevitable you know. That’s why Sam took you on.”

  “Took me on.” I wanted to spit. “He would have grabbed the next customer who walked in. It just happened to be me.

  “I guess it makes me the lucky one, then, huh?” Quentin pushed past me and walked into my living room. “What a place you got here.”

  “Sorry, Park Place was too much of a commute.” I forbid myself from feeling self conscious about the state of my home. It was mine. I hadn’t invited them over. So tough. They ought to know what they were getting themselves into.

  Quentin didn’t seem as turned off by the yellow velveteen couch as I had been at first sight. Ugly as it was, it was the most comfortable thing I’d ever fallen into. And the price had been right. Still, I probably would’ve brought it home even if it had felt like you were sitting on a log.

  “So…” I surveyed the room, “…where do we start?”

  “Turn the TV on.” That was easy. I reached over and picked up the remote. Pressed power and viola, picture and sound.

  “You are an idiot, aren’t you?”

  “Huh?” He’d told me to turn it on. I bunched my fists together, imagining how one would feel pummeling his pretty face.

  He just spread his arms wide. And he wasn’t inv
iting me in for a hug. “What are we supposed to be studying here? The mating habits of pigeons?”

  I glanced over at the twenty inch screen. Horny little gray birds flapped their wings as they chased one another out of camera range. “Looks like they are a bit shy,” I responded.

  “Oh, duh, Ella.” He shook his head at me.

  The remote whacked the wall right next to Quentin’s left ear. “Damn bitch! What’d you try to hit me for?”

  “Bad freakin’ aim. I was envisioning the imprint of those buttons on your forehead.”

  He grabbed the remote and turned it over. “Great. You broke the back off. The batteries have run away.”

  I envisioned them lying under the couch. “Here batt’ry, batt’ry, batt’ry,” I crooned. All four of them rolled to my feet. “Good little batteries. Now, where’s the lid?”

  “I got it,” Quentin muttered. He retrieved it from the back of the couch. “Thank God we’re not stuck watching those damn birds all day.”

  I pointed at the TV, squinting to see the tiny buttons at the bottom of the set. The channel flickered up, finding some fat woman in a sausage tight Viking outfit belting out an opera. In Italian. “They got Vikings in Italy?”

  “Nice one, Ella. Think you can find the mute button?”

  I really wanted to tell him to jump in a lake. One full of sadistic, horny pigeons floating in camel spit. With opera playing in the background.

  Okay, that sounded more evil than was necessary. So I imagined Quentin tied to a chair and forced to watch live opera. See, for me, it wouldn’t be a chore. But Quentin? Ha. He was already squirming as if his underwear had been invaded by a curious squid. Ewww.

  “Ella? Can you mute the TV already?”