And even though part of me wants to soothe her, calm her, convince her theres really no reason to act like thisI dont. I just watch as she leaves, making sure the door closes behind her before heading back to the book.
CHAPTER 22
So how was your first day at work?
I drop onto the couch, kick off my shoes, and prop my feet up on the carved wood coff ee table, closing my eyes, and sighing dramatically as I say, Actually, it was a lot easier than youd think.
Damen laughs and sinks down beside me. Smoothing my hair off my face when he says, Then whats with all the fatigue and theatrics?
I shrug, scrunching down even lower, sinking as deep as I can into the plush, overstuffed cushions, eyes still closed as I say, I dont know. Maybe its got something to do with the book I found. It left me feeling a littlefragmented. But then, it might have something to do with my surprise visit with
You read a book? His lips trail down the length of my neck, filling my body with tingle and heat. As in, the traditional way?
I move closer, throwing my leg over his and snuggling in, eager for the almost feel of his skin. Believe me, I tried to take the easy way out and just sense it instead, but it was likeI dont knowit was the weirdest experience. I look at him, willing his eyes to meet mine, but they remain closed as he buries his face in my hair. It was likelike the knowledge inside was too powerful to be read in that way, you know? And it gave me this terrible jolt of electricitylike a shock that rattled my bones. Which only made me even more curious, which is why I tried to read it the normal way. Only I didnt get very far.
Out of practice? He smiles, lips now at my ear
More like I couldnt understand it. I shrug. Its mostly in code. And the parts that are English, well, it was likeolde English. You know, like the kind you used to speak. I pull away and peer at him, smiling when I see the look of mock outrage displayed on his face. Not to mention the print was really small and it was filled with all these weird sketches and symbols making up spells and invocations, that sort of thing. Whatwhy are you looking at me like that? I pause, sensing a major energy shift as his body grows tense
Whats the name of this book? he asks, gaze focused on mine.
I squint, screwing my lips to the side, trying to remember what the fancy gold lettering said. The Book ofSomething I shake my head, feeling more tired and fragmented than I prefer to let on, especially after seeing the concern on his face.
Shadows. He nods, wearing a frown. The Book of Shadows. Is that it?
So you know it? I shift, arranging my body until Im fully facing him, his gaze serious, fixed, as though weighing something he may or may not tell me.
Im familiar. He studies my face. But only with its reputation. Ive never had a chance to read it myself. But, Ever, if its the same tome Im thinking of He shakes his head, disquiet clouding his face. Well, it contains some extremely powerful magickmagick that needs to be approached with the utmost caution and care. Magick that definitely should not be toyed with, understand?
So I guess youre saying it works. I smile, hoping to lighten the mood, but knowing Ive failed when he doesnt return it.
Its nothing like the magick we use. It may seem like it at first, and I suppose that when stripped down to its very essence, it does amount to the same sort of thing. But when we evoke the energy of the universe to manifest form, we call upon only the purest and brightest of light with no darkness at all. And even though most magick practitioners or witches are good, sometimes when people get involved in witchcraft they get in over their heads, and wind up taking a much darker path, calling on a more malevolent force to get the job done.
I gape, never having heard him even acknowledge a dark force before.
Everything we do is always based either for the greater good, or our own good. We never do anything to cause any harm.
I wouldnt say never, I mumble, remembering all the times Ive beaten Stacia at her own game, or at least tried to.
Petty schoolyard squabble is hardly what Im getting at. He dismisses my thoughts. What I meant was, we manipulate matter not people. But resorting to spell casting to get what you want He shakes his head. Well, thats a whole other game. Ask Romy and Rayne.
I look at him.
They are witches, you know. Good witches, of course, ones who were taught very wellthough unfortunately for them, their schooling was cut a bit short. But take Roman, for instance, hes the perfect example of what can go wrong when ones ego, greed, and insatiable need for power and revenge steer them toward the dark side. His recent use of hypnosis is a prime example of that. He looks at me, shaking his head. Please tell me you didnt find this book on the shelfout where just anyone can get it.
I cross my legs and shake my head, fingers tracing the seam on his sleeve. It was nothing like that, I say. This copy wasold. And I mean, really, really old. You know, all fragile and ancientlike it should be in a museum or something. Trust me, whoever it belongs to didnt want anyone to know about it; they went to great lengths to hide it. But you know that cant really stop me. I smile, hoping hell smile too, but his gaze remains unchanged, worried eyes staring right into mine.
Who do you think is using it? Lina or Jude? he asks, using their names so casually youd think they were friends.
Does it matter? I shrug.
He studies me a moment longer, then averts his gaze. Mind wandering to some long-ago place, somewhere Ive never been. So, is that it, then? A brief encounter with the Book of Shadows, and youre all tuckered out? he says, returning to me.
Tuckered? I lift a brow and shake my head. His odd choice of words never fails to amuse me.
Too dated? His lips curve into a grin.
A little. I nod, laughing along with him.
You shouldnt make fun of the elderly. Its quite rude, dont you think? He playfully chucks me under the chin.
Quite. I nod, quieted by the feel of his fingers straying over my cheek, down my neck, all the way to my chest.
We rest our heads against the cushions and gaze at each other, his hands moving nimbly, deftly, making their way over my clothes, both of us wishing it could lead to something more, but determined to be contented with this.
So what else happened at work? he whispers, pressing his lips to my skin, the ever-present veil hovering between us.
Did some organizing, cataloging, filingoh, and then Honor came in.
He pulls away, features rearranged into his I told you so gaze. Relax. Its not like she was looking for a reading or anything. Or at least she didnt seem to be.
Whatd she want?
Jude, I guess. I lift my shoulders, inching my fingers under the hem of his shirt, feeling his smooth expanse of skin and wishing I could crawl under there too. It was weird seeing her alone though. You know, without Stacia or Craig. Its like she was a totally different personall shy and awkward, completely transformed.
You think she likes Jude? His fingers trace the line of my collarbone, his touch so warm, so perfect, barely dimmed by the veil.
I shrug, burying my face in the shallow V of his shirt, inhaling his warm musky scent. Determined to ignore the way my stomach just dipped when he spoke. Having no idea what it means or why I should care if Honor likes Jude, but preferring to push it away nonetheless. Why? Do you think I should warn him? You know, tell him what shes really like? My lips pushing into the hollow at the base of his neck, right next to the cord that holds his amulet.
He shifts, rearranging his limbs, pulling away as he says, If hes as gifted as you say, then he should be able to read her energy and see for himself. He gazes at me, voice careful, measured, overly controlled in a way Im not used to. Besides, do we even know what shes really like? From what youve described, we only know her under the influence of Stacia. She may be quite nice on her own.
I squint, trying to imagine a nicer version of Honor, but unable to get there. But still, I say. Jude has a habit of falling for all the wrong girls and I stop, meeting his gaze and sensing that things have taken a definite turn for the worse, though Ive no idea why. You know what? Never mind all that. Its boring and stupid and not worth our time. Lets talk about something else, okay? I lean toward him, aiming my lips toward the edge of his jaw, anticipating the prickle and scratch of the stubble that grows there. Lets talk about something that has nothing to do with my job, or the twins, or your ugly new car Hoping he was more amused than off ended by that. Something that doesnt make me feel quite soold and boring.
Are you saying youre bored? He looks at me, eyes wide, aghast.
I lift my shoulders and scrunch my face, wishing I could pretend otherwise, but also not wanting to lie. A little. I nod. I mean, Im sorry to say it, but this whole cuddling on the couch while the kids sleep upstairs I shake my head. Its one thing when youre babysitting, but its a little creepy when the kids are essentially yours. I mean, I know were still adjusting and allbutwellI guess what Im trying to say is, its starting to feel like a rut. I peer at him, lips pressed tightly together, unsure how hell take that.
You know how to get out of a rut, dont you? He jumps to his feet so swiftly hes a shiny, dark blur.
I shake my head, recognizing that look in his eye from when we first met. Back when things were fun, exciting, unpredictable in every way.
The only escape is to break free. He laughs, grasping my hand and leading me away.
CHAPTER 23
I follow him through the kitchen and out to the garage, wondering where he could possibly be taking me since a nice trip to Summerland can be had from the couch.
What about the twins? I whisper. What if they wake and find were not here?
Damen shrugs, leading me to his car and glancing over his shoulder as he says, No worries, theyre sleeping soundly. Besides, I have a feeling theyll stay that way for a while.
And did you have anything to do with that? I ask, remembering the time he put the entire student body to sleepincluding the administrators and teachersand Im still not sure how he did it.
He laughs and opens my door, motioning for me to get in. But I shake my head and stand my ground. No way am I riding in the mom mobilethe very embodiment of the rut that were in.
He looks at me for a moment, then shakes his head and closes his eyes, brows merging together as he manifests a shiny red Lamborghini instead. Just like the one I drove the other day.
But I shake my head again, having no need for a new brand of fun when the old one will do. So I close my eyes and wish it away, replacing it with an exact replica of the shiny black BMW he used to drive.
Point taken. He nods, waving me in with a mischievous grin.
And the next thing I know were racing down the drive and onto the street, slowing just enough for the gate to open, before taking Coast Highway in a blur of speed.
I gaze at him, trying to peer into his mind and see just where were going, but he just laughs, purposely erecting his psychic shield, determined to surprise me.
He hops on the freeway and cranks up the stereo, laughing in surprise when the Beatles come on. The White Album? He glances at me as he navigates the road at near-record speeds.
Whatever it takes to get you back in this car. I smile, having listened to the story (many times) of his time spent in India learning transcendental meditation right alongside them, back when John and Paul wrote most of these songs. In fact, if Ive manifested it correctly, then that stereo will play nothing but the Beatles from now on.
How am I ever going to adapt to the twenty-first century if youre determined to keep me rooted in the past? He laughs.
I was kind of hoping you wouldnt adapt, I mumble, gazing out the window at a blur of darkness and light. Change is overratedor at least your more recent changes are. So what do you say? Is she a keeper? Can we banish the big ugly mommy mobile?
I turn toward him, watching as he exits the freeway and makes a series of sharp turns before climbing a very steep hill and stopping before a sculpture in front of a huge limestone building.
Whats this? I squint, knowing were somewhere in L.A. from the look and feel of the town, but not exactly sure where.
The Getty. He smiles, setting the brake and jumping out to open my door. Have you been?
I shake my head and avoid his gaze. An art museum is about the last place I expectedor even wantedto go.
Butisnt it closed? I glance around, sensing were the only ones here, other than the armed guards who are probably stationed inside.
Closed? He looks at me and shakes his head. You think Im going to let something as mundane as that stop us? He slips his arm around me and leads me up the stone steps, lips at my ear when he adds, I know a museums not your first choice, but trust me, Im about to prove a very good point. One that, from what you just said, clearly needs illustrating.
What? That you know more about art than I do?
He stops, his face serious when he says, Im going to prove that the world really is our oyster. Our playground. Whatever we want it to be. Theres no need to ever feel bored or to get into a rut once you understand that the normal rules no longer applyat least not for us. We can do anything we want, Ever, anything at all. Open, closed, locked, unlocked, welcome, unwelcomenone of it matters, we do what we wantwhen we want. Theres nothing or no one who can stop us.
Not entirely true, I think, ruminating on the very thing weve never been able to do in the past four hundred years, which, of course, is the one thing I really want us to do.
But he just smiles, kissing me on the forehead before grasping my hand, leading me to the door as he says, Besides, theres an exhibit Im dying to see, and since theres no crowd it shouldnt take long. And I promise, after, we can go wherever you want.
I stare at the imposing locked doors rigged with the most high-tech alarms that are probably rigged to other high-tech alarms, that are surely rigged to machine gunwielding guards with their fingers just itching to press the trigger. Heck, theres probably a hidden camera trained on us now, and a not amused guard tucked somewhere inside ready to push the panic button under his desk.