Interrupted Magic Read online

  I’d come to trust the magic ever since it had brought me to Nora, but something was off kilter with the recipes I’d mixed recently. Did the hiccup I was experiencing have something to do with Ian? Or the traveling spell? Was it a delayed response to the spell Jason’s ex-wife had tried to throw at me? No. She’d lost her magic when the spell reflected back to her, and thanks to my niece’s intervention, my talents had remained intact.

  I arrived in Pratt and pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store, questioning my sanity. While it was a nice night for a drive, I was out of clues. The magic wasn’t working, and I had no idea which way to go. Time to go home.

  I got out of the car and walked inside the store to buy a bottle of water. As I checked out, I asked the clerk if he knew Ian Oliveiro.

  “Sure,” the man said. “He inherited the castle over on Baker Street.”

  Castle?

  “Heard he’s fixing it up. Can’t imagine anyone living in that drafty old place. More for show, I should think.”

  “Castle?” I said out loud.

  “Can’t miss it. Three blocks down, turn right and go to the end of the street.”

  I thanked the man and carried the bottle of water to my car. I took a long drink before I started the engine once more.

  My phone rang.

  “Where are you?” Kyle asked.

  “Went for a drive,” I replied.

  “I might have found Daria.”

  I considered which direction to go. Visions of Ian clouded my senses, stealing my breath. I’d come this far. I needed to know why Ian affected me so deeply, or if the sparks that had flown between us were a one-time thing. “We can talk tomorrow.” I hung up and counted out three blocks, to Baker Street.

  I drove to the end of the road, onto an unpaved turnaround surrounded by woods. On the opposite side of the turnaround, a crenelated tower rose against the horizon. Planks of wood created a makeshift drawbridge across a ditch that might be considered a moat. Stone walls guarded the castle keep. Something akin to a covered bridge connected the tower to a cottage made of flagstone. Three other lake houses made up the riverside neighborhood.

  The tower tucked in amongst the trees looked like a pinky finger compared to Hannah Noonan’s castle conference center in Brown’s Landing, although it was no less impressive.

  “Holy cow,” I said under my breath.

  “I take it you like it,” Ian said.

  I jumped, surprised to hear his voice.

  He laughed, standing beside my open window. “You found me.”

  I had. There he was, as ridiculously gorgeous as he’d been in the Indian market. My hormones went into a spin.

  He opened the door for me.

  “Is this for real?” I asked. “A castle?” I stared at him, still wondering if I hadn’t conjured him from my imagination.

  “Technically, it’s a folly,” he said. “I did tell you my uncle was a tad eccentric. He had a tendency to be theatrical. He built it, in part, to impress a woman. Want to see inside?”

  I stepped out of the car, staring into Ian’s eyes and breathing in the scent of the woods.

  I touched his face, doubting my senses. A handsome man. A castle. I believed in magic, but this was straight out of a fairy tale.

  Ian kissed my palm, his gaze locked on mine. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

  I laughed, an odd breathy sound. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  He reached into his pocket, withdrew a handful of white LifeSavers and offered one to me. After I took one, he popped one into his mouth. I unwrapped the wintergreen mint and tucked the cellophane into my pocket.

  “The cottage is more comfortable for a proper welcome,” he whispered into my hair. “I can show you around the folly after.”

  I didn’t have to ask what he meant by after. A thrill ran through me, envisioning his idea of a proper welcome. Like at the market where we’d met, the chemistry between us flamed. “Works for me.”

  He took my hand and we dashed to the cottage and straight to his bedroom.

  An hour later, Ian tugged on a pair of pants and handed me one of his button-down shirts to cover up with. Feeling horribly underdressed, and yet thrilled by the way he made me feel, I followed him through the passage that connected the cottage to the tower.

  “My uncle was inspired to build the folly after a vacation in Spain. His lady friend, unfortunately, was not as excited as he’d hoped. When she exited the picture, he moved his library here, along with the lab.” An arched wooden door marked the end of the passage, a door befitting a castle. Ian withdrew a large iron key from his pocket. His voice softened with a trace of melancholy. “We spent many hours here together.”

  I wrapped my hand around my silver triquetra bracelet, feeling his grief. “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “I visited last summer for a weekend. I should have stayed longer.” He unlocked the door and waved me in. “I live in Connecticut. Or at least I did until Uncle Edgar died.”

  Live. Present tense. He would be leaving. “How long do you plan to stay in Wisconsin?”

  As Ian closed the door, he toyed with my hair, his eyes sweeping my face. “I find I like it here.”

  Were our elevated responses to each other organic? Or was there an outside influence? I sniffed the air, hunting for the telltale scent of maple, or something else with aphrodisiac qualities. “I don’t suppose you bought fenugreek, too?”

  He laughed. “No. And since you haven’t offered me anything to eat or drink or even to smell, I know you didn’t use the leaves you bought on me.” His eyes sparkled. “I’ve never been so captivated. It’s as if we’ve found each other again after a long absence.”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Come. Let me show you around before we get distracted again.”

  He took me by the hand and guided me into a small room. The walls were a mix of stone and brick, enhancing the medieval feel of the folly. An open fireplace had been built into one wall. The sparse furnishings consisted of a cloth chair big enough for two people and a minimalistic couch. An area rug covered the stone floor and a television occupied a nook in the wall. The setting sun poured through arched windows with black grids.

  “We’re on the second level,” Ian told me. “There’s a kitchen and laundry below, what my uncle used to call the dungeon. The appliances are thirty years old. I don’t know when they were used last or if they work. My uncle never moved in after his lady love rejected him. I’d suggested he list the folly as a vacation property, rent a castle for a romantic getaway, but he didn’t see the point. His romantic gesture had failed, so he couldn’t see how it might work for anyone else.”

  “Based on one woman’s opinion?” I asked.

  Ian studied me. “Sometimes, that’s all it takes.”

  His comment led me to believe he spoke from personal experience. “Something I should know?” I asked.

  He smiled and stroked my cheek. “Yes, but not just yet. I haven’t finished your tour.” He led me toward the turret, which was filled with a circular plank staircase. Thick, braided rope served as a balustrade. “The magic happens on the next level,” he said. “There are bedrooms on the two levels above that.”

  A workroom similar to mine appeared as we rounded the curving staircase on the next level—another small room with niches built into the walls for a rough-hewn bookcase and a cabinet with glass doors, which displayed what I assumed to be store-bought product based on the labels. A rectangular wooden table took the place of honor in the center of the room, with two bar stools beside it. A bowl of individually wrapped LifeSavers like the ones Ian had pulled from his pocket sat on the corner of the table. Pedestal shelving was nestled beneath either end of the table, each with an assortment of apothecary bottles.

  “This is where I do my chemistry currently,” Ian said. “I’m guessing you have a similar space at your home?”

  “I do.”

  The magic shone in his eyes. “I look f
orward to a day when we can work side by side.” He kissed my hand. “Soon. Would you like to see more?” His voice, low and seductive, sent ripples of heat through my body. “Only one of the castle bedrooms is livable. I’m still working on the second.”

  Sensory overload.

  I drew a slow breath to steady myself. “Everything looks so well-kept. What are you renovating?”

  “The dungeon is a mess.” He shrugged. “The appliances are rusty. The exterior needs tuckpointing. Weather-related damage. I’ve considered expanding the castle footprint, but I also need to address keeping the wildlife out. I’ve seen more mice inside than I’d care to.”

  “I have a cat, you know. I can lend her to you.”

  “Maybe your cat would enjoy living in a castle. Assuming I can talk you into staying with me.”

  A tempting thought. “You mentioned something about a bedroom?”

  He grinned and we continued up the turret staircase to yet another small, octagonal room. A queen size bed dominated the center, covered by a thick white duvet pulled back to show white sheets. Fresh flowers sat in a vase on the nightstand. French doors opened to a balcony over the river behind the folly.

  As if he’d staged all this for me.

  “In case you wanted to see the folly first. I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting you,” Ian said, as if he’d read my mind. He slid his arms around my waist. “Do you like it?”

  “I do.”

  He nipped at my neck. “Will you be the queen of my castle?”

  I wasn’t entirely sure what he was proposing, and I wasn’t sure I cared. When Ian wrapped his arms around me, I felt as if I’d found where I belonged.

  Sometime later, nestled into the bed, I rested my head against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. I envied him growing up knowing about his gift, learning from his uncle from a young age. “Did your parents understand about your gifts?”

  “Not my mother, no,” he said. “My uncle was my father’s brother, so my father knew, even if he didn’t quite understand how it all works. When Uncle Edgar first invited me to visit, my mother didn’t want me to go, but my father eventually won out. He told her it would be good for me to learn new skills without telling her what those skills might be. What about you?”

  Melancholy rushed to fill the endorphin void. The bracelet was all I had left of my mother. I told Ian how my parents had died, how I’d gone to live with my aunt and uncle who’d concealed Aunt Nora’s existence from me.

  “You said something about casting your first spell at thirteen, and that it had frightened you away from your talents,” he said. “What happened?”

  I rolled onto my back and Ian rolled beside me, lying on his side and settling his gaze on my face.

  “Unintended consequences,” I said. “I made a wish involving a friend. It turned out differently than I’d thought. I kept to myself pretty much after that. It’s difficult to talk about.”

  “You don’t have to tell me now, but one day, I’d like to know more.” He toyed with my hair. “I can’t imagine—not having someone to talk things through with. Especially at that age.”

  He shot me a veiled glance. “You had the foresight to ask if I had a girlfriend during our dreamwalk. I never thought to ask you if you were involved with someone.” He stroked my arm. “Something that is very important to me in this moment. Please tell me you’re not involved with someone.”

  I cringed, that poke of guilt still with me. I sat on the edge of the bed and Ian stroked my back. “I was supposed to have gotten married in May, but we called it off.”

  “Sometimes things happen the way they were meant to. If you’d have married him, you might not be here now.”

  I chuckled. “I definitely wouldn’t be here now.” Or would I? The pull between Ian and me was hard to resist. Even now I ached for more of what we’d shared.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that,” he said. “I was nearly engaged once, myself, until I discovered I wasn’t the only man in her life.” He scooted across the bed and kissed my shoulder. His voice deepened. “I don’t like to share.” To emphasize his point, he took possession of me once more, and I basked in his attentions.

  We spent the next several hours, when we weren’t wrapped around each other, talking. I reluctantly left Ian’s bed sometime after midnight with an invitation for him to visit me in Hillendale the following night.

  Forty-five minutes later, I curled into my own bed with Ash beside me and fell promptly to sleep.

  The morning sun woke me a few hours later while I stretched overused muscles. I couldn’t wait to see Ian again, and yet I wasn’t keen on the gossip that would follow, or flaunting him in front of Kyle.

  Kyle. He’d said he found Daria. The sooner I resolved the spell, the sooner I could leave that part of my life behind.

  I stroked Ash and got out of bed, heading to my workshop at the bottom of the stairs. I needed to consult the hidden grimoire once more to make sure I didn’t screw something else up in my attempt to return the spell to Daria.

  The workshop was as I’d left it. No books lay open on the worktable. Odd, and yet it wasn’t the first time they hadn’t called out any special orders. I paused to consider the failures of the mixtures I’d sold the day before. Had I used stale product?

  I sat behind the worktable, closed my eyes and summoned the grimoire.

  It didn’t come.

  I rushed to the utility room and tried to open the cache in the wall where the hidden grimoire rested, but I couldn’t pry the brick loose.

  Was something disrupting the magic?

  Chapter 17

  Returning to the kitchen, I tried to retrieve a coffee cup from the shelves using my telekinesis. Nothing happened. I opened my hand to summon my phone from the table—it didn’t move.

  Maybe nerves blocked my energy. I drew a calming breath and closed my eyes to concentrate on my phone once more.

  Nerves devolved into panic when it didn’t move. I grabbed my phone and called Nora.

  “Something’s wrong,” I told her.

  “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”

  I related how the potions I’d mixed yesterday failed, how I couldn’t access the hidden grimoire and how my telekinetic ability was on the fritz. “On top of all that, Kyle says he’s found Daria, but what if I can’t return the spell to her? If my magic isn’t working, I might make matters worse.”

  “I agree. Until you know what’s interfering with your magic, you shouldn’t attempt to send the spell back to Daria.”

  “I’m not even sure he’ll go along with the plan. Lately, he’s of the opinion what I do is all power of suggestion.” I massaged my forehead. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you. Cassandra and I are closing the shop. I plan to request a meeting with the downtown business owners’ association to let them know so they can approve a sale.”

  “Are you sure you want to give up?”

  “Sales are down, and when the gossips get hold of my latest breakup with Kyle, they’ll want to run me out of town for sure this time. I don’t see another option.”

  She sighed. “You may be right. Are you sure the spell didn’t jump to you? This is a lot to go through all at once. Has anything else new happened to you?”

  My body heated at thoughts of Ian. “Actually, I met a man at the Indian market.”

  “And?”

  I hesitated. Nora had married a man who had his own mystical talents. A man she’d kept secret for half of her life. “How did you manage to stay away from Fletcher for so many years?” I blurted.

  She laughed. “I think you know the answer to that, which is I didn’t. We simply didn’t go public.” Her voice grew serious. “This man you met, there’s something special about him?”

  “I saw the magic in his eyes.” No, that wasn’t what had drawn me to him, although it had inspired trust because of our common gifts. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

  “I guess there was a reas
on you had your doubts with Kyle. Is it possible this new man is interfering with your magic?” she asked.

  I’d had a passing thought, but hadn’t seriously considered the possibility. I stopped to think it through. “I can’t imagine how.”

  She hummed. “I suppose time will tell. Oh, dear. I have to run. I’ll call you when I get back.”

  I set my phone on the worktable and wandered outside to check the garden. After Nora’s last visit, the herbs were picked over. Likewise, the flowering plants. I plucked a couple of ripe tomatoes and when I turned to walk into the house, Kyle was headed my direction.

  He gave me a once over, reminding me I’d come out in my pajamas. “I thought you might have called this morning,” he said.

  “It’s still early,” I replied.

  “You were out late.”

  He’d been watching the house? “I suppose I was.”

  “I came to share what I’d learned.”

  We stood silently, navigating the new awkwardness between us. “Would you like to come in?”

  His gaze flew to the open workroom door, then to where Ash sat in the window. “I’d rather talk out here.”

  I waved him to the patio table and set down my tomatoes. “You said you’d found Daria.”

  He remained standing. “I have an address. I thought I’d surveil the place. See if she has a routine. From what you told me, she isn’t likely to cooperate with your plan.”

  My plan. Did he have a different plan? “What are you thinking?”

  “Whatever you did for her transferred to me, right? Even though I didn’t know what was going on. And you want to transfer it back to her, right?”

  I ground my teeth. “Right.”

  “If we can figure out how to do this without calling attention to ourselves, you can do whatever—” he rolled one hand, “—magic you think you need to do without bothering her.”

  Despite the fact he presented the same plan I’d proposed as his own, he wouldn’t suggest it if he didn’t believe in the magic at least a little. Discounting my talents was most likely part of his process of uncoupling. Denial was easier for most people.