He's A Magic Man (The Children of Merlin) (38 page)

As Drew came out into the big room that overlooked Lake Michigan, Rhiannon was in a rage. “We’re wasting valuable time,” she fumed.

“The only transport with a respirator isn’t available until four,” one of the guys said. He was the one with impossibly blond hair and pale blue eyes that made him seem inhuman.

“Then find another one, Striker.”

“They don’t grow on trees,” Lev said. He put his boots up on the burl-wood dining table. “You think we haven’t looked?”

Rhiannon turned away in a huff. She was wearing a tiny yellow and pink striped skirt and a swirly blouse in the same colors, unbuttoned low enough to clearly show her breasts. She looked more like candy than ever.
Poisonous candy in her case.
“Well, get over to the hospital and start the discharge process. At least you can have everything completed by the time it gets there.” She spied Drew, and bore down on her as the guys behind her dispersed to obey her orders. “You, eat something. It’s time to show your stuff.”

“Uh, sure,” Drew said, looking around at last night’s empty pizza boxes, and about four pink doughnut boxes that also looked to be empty. These guys weren’t exactly health conscious.

Rhiannon followed her gaze and began rooting through the doughnut boxes until she came up with a maple bar and handed it to Drew. “Go get some coffee.”

She disappeared into a bedroom. “And don’t talk to her, Nick,” she ordered a young man in his early twenties, by way of making him responsible for her not escaping. That didn’t look likely anyway. Besides the kid, the guy with the blond hair and light eyes they called Striker was talking frantically on a cellphone. Two were playing poker and two others were watching some History Channel war show. Lev was on the computer. A black dude was taking apart a gun at a little bistro table in the back. That left two guys on their
iPads
over by the windows, probably watching porn. Somebody had to notice her making a break for the elevator. Then there was the fact that she’d have to wait for the doors to open.

Rhiannon was calmer by the time she came back. She carried a big bag from Saks
..
“Here, put this on. Morgan likes people to look the part.”

“What part?” Drew asked as Rhiannon practically dumped the bag on her.

“Seer,” Rhiannon sneered. “What else? It’ll give her confidence in you.” She sat in the chair at the end of the great big dining room table. “And you really want to give her confidence.”

Drew peered into the bag at the bottom and saw a crush of burgundy velvet. She looked up at Rhiannon. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Rhiannon scowled. “Put it on.”

Drew pulled the dress out of the bag. It didn’t look like something Saks would carry. The sweetheart neckline would leave most of Drew’s breasts exposed. The rest of them would be covered with flat metallic plates that looked like black, iridescent armor. The
bodice laced up
the front. The sleeves were sheer. And there was some kind of a throat piece in red and black beading. It had about a million covered buttons down the back. Also in the bag was a kind of a cape. Great. “I’ll have a heat stroke in this. Hello? Chicago in the summertime?”

“Like you’re going outside.”

“I don’t notice you wearing some Renaissance Fair wannabe dress.”

“Because I’m already in,” Rhiannon explained, as though Drew was a child. “The day I did my tryout for Morgan, I dressed to the hilt. I mean, gray and black chiffon. Looked like clouds. Lightning bolts in sequins across the bodice … the whole bit. So strip down and suit up.”

I’m pretty damned sure I don’t want to be in your club,
Drew thought. But it would never do to say that. She glanced around the room. Nobody was paying attention to her. That would change in about a minute.

As she pulled off the baggy drawstring pants and the loose tee shirt, she could feel eyes stray in her direction. She would not blush. She would
not.
She stepped into the dress and pulled it up a little too hastily. When it covered her breasts she relaxed a little. “Some help with all these buttons?” she drawled.

Rhiannon motioned to Nick, who eagerly stepped up to the task. His fingers were cold. Drew suppressed a shiver.

“Jonas, fill that big crystal salad bowl thing with water.” She turned to Drew. “Vision time,” Rhiannon said cheerfully.

Did she dare tell Rhiannon she couldn’t just draw up visions on command, even rested and fed? Definitely no. She had to look like a valuable addition to their club just to stay alive. So it was going to be another fake job. She racked her brain about what to say when she looked into the salad bowl and saw only clear water.

With a sigh, she sat at the head of the table. The long red velvet dress was heavy. It swished around her feet. The black guy, Jonas, set the bowl down.
Showtime.

She gazed into the bowl for a
while,
straining, just in case she could produce a real vision. Nothing. So she pretended to come out of her trance and then told Rhiannon some story about Morgan commending her on finding the sword. But Rhiannon wasn’t an easy mark. She asked a lot of penetrating questions, and she wanted details. Finally she got angry.

“All right,” Rhiannon said, standing. “Enough with the faking.”
Apparently not such a good dissembler.
Lev and Striker and the kid, Nick, and the poker players had gathered around the table to watch. Lev was absently fingering the hilt of a really big knife in his belt.

She’d better come clean. “Look, it’s not that easy. I can’t just snap my fingers.”

“It would be good to be useful right about now,” Rhiannon said, and wrinkled her nose in a gesture of false confidentiality with a sly little grin. “Why don’t you try?”

Drew swallowed.
Nothing for it.
She stared down at the water. She tightened her muscles, straining even harder than she had before.
Nada.
She sighed helplessly and relaxed. They were going to kill her now. Might as well face the music.

The water in the bowl turned opaque. The room wavered around her.
Drew’s eyes widened in surprise.
The water rippled, though there couldn’t be a breeze inside the penthouse. Images coalesced. She couldn’t quite make them out. Then the ripples smoothed, leaving an old woman. Her eyes were incredibly intense. They stared back at Drew, as though she could see back through time and knew Drew was watching her. The eyes were golden. They looked almost catlike—totally out of place with the grizzled hair and fair skin. The woman began to smile and the smile turned into an avaricious grin. Something came between Drew and the woman, edging up into the frame.
Triangular, shining.
It moved up and up until it wasn’t triangular anymore. It was a gleaming sword. The woman’s smile grew into a frightening grin. “Come to Mama, exquisite one,” the woman whispered. “You and I are going to do wonderful things together.”

And then the vision was gone.

Drew looked up, trying to catch her breath. It almost felt like she’d been invaded, that the vision wasn’t just something she was looking at, but that was inside her, revealing itself. They were all still, looking at her. Some were wary, like Lev, some puzzled. Rhiannon examined her shrewdly. Drew swallowed. Her eyes were full of tears that hadn’t quite spilled. Drew really didn’t want the woman with the yellow eyes inside her.

“That’s better,” Rhiannon gloated. “The ripples are a nice effect.” She gave Drew a penetrating stare. “So…?”

“Not much,” Drew said. Her voice was hoarse. “A woman with gray hair and … and yellow
eyes.…
She had the sword. And she was really glad about that.”

“Morgan,” Rhiannon breathed. “How old was she?”

“Hard to tell. Sixties, early seventies maybe.”

Rhiannon shot her a triumphant look. “Well, at least we know we’re going to succeed.”

Drew really hoped her visions weren’t set in stone. Maybe it was just one possible future.

“Any more?”

Drew shook her head. “Just that fragment.”

Rhiannon sashayed over to the armchair. “We’re in business, boys.”

Drew was afraid she was right

.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Michael woke to the sound of voices almost obscured by the drone of an engine. He felt better, really good as a matter of fact. He blinked, trying to get his bearings. He remembered the feeling of death creeping up his veins, the horrible swelling that bloated his leg, the rot. And the woman who looked like Drew—she’d made him open up to her, and along with incredible pain, he’d felt her inside him, putting things right. Wow.

“I’m waking him, Brina. We’re twenty-five minutes out and I need him to find Drew. And when we get her back, I’m going to make the bastard marry her.”

“Brian, don’t.” It was the woman from his dream.
Drew’s mother.

“Don’t wake him up?”

“Don’t try to
make
him do anything.” The voice was full of dry humor. “There are some things even an Adapter can’t master. Playing Cupid is one of them.”

“I don’t care if he loves her or not, he’s going to damn well pretend he does. And he’s going to make her happy.”

Michael closed his eyes. He definitely didn’t want to be here for this meeting. There was a long pause. He could imagine the look Drew’s mother was giving her father, because he’d seen that look on Drew.

“He’s not a bastard, you know. I felt that.” Her tone was conversational.

“He’s got guts,” her father said grudgingly. “Couldn’t have saved Kemble without him.”

“Go copilot for Kemble. I’ll see if Michael is in any shape to do some Finding.”

Michael felt her sit in the seat across from him. “No use pretending.”

He opened his eyes, looked an apology, and sat up. Jackson was snoring in one of the forward seats. Tris was stretched out over three rear seats. Drew’s mother looked tired, too. Michael hastily pulled the blanket more securely around his waist when he realized he was still naked. “Didn’t think I’d add much to that conversation.”

Brina smiled ruefully. “He loves his children dearly.”

“Yeah. I got that when we were on the island. He’s an admirable guy. Good leader. Got us out of a tight fix.”

“You’ve been in tight fixes before.” She glanced pointedly to his scarred body. “I hear you were in prison in Afghanistan for a year. Tough to recover from something like that.”

“I was pretty much a mental mess.” She might as well know. “Alice put me back together. It was her talent.” He still wasn’t comfortable calling it magic. “That’s how we met.”

“Your wife.”

“She’s dead.” He shrugged, as though it didn’t matter.

“I know.” She shrugged back in apology.
“The boys told me a lot about you.”

“I’m sure.” He let out a breath. “I’m probably not first on their dance card.”

“Oh, you learn to read between the lines when you’re a mother. It’s not all bad.” She looked at him curiously. “They think you’re dependable, for instance. Are you?”

“Not
so’s
you’d notice. I’ve been drunk for the last two years or so.”

“But you’re not drunk now.”

He looked away. “No. Thanks to Drew.” Better fess up. “She tied me up so I couldn’t get to the booze. It wasn’t me that quit.”

Brina didn’t bat an eye at that. “Maybe. Drew always thinks she can fix things, and people. She thinks she has control of her life.
An illusion, of course.
Nobody has control. We just do the best we can with what comes our way.”

“Sometimes that’s harder than others.”

She smiled. And the smile was warm, and kind, and understanding. “So true.” She cocked her head. “Do you feel up to some Finding?”

“Considering I was half an inch from dead a few hours ago, I feel pretty damn good.”

She patted his thigh. “Good. Brian,” she called. “You want to come back here?”

“I didn’t thank you,” Michael said. “For … for what you did for me.”

She waved him away. “I’m a Healer. It’s what I do.”

Brian appeared in the aisle, ducking his head. “About time,” he said gruffly.

“I’ll go find you some clothes. Maybe Jackson brought a change.” She stood. “Why don’t you two just stick to finding Drew right now? The rest can wait.”

Brian plunked in the seat she’d left. He waited until she was aft, rummaging through a roller bag. “That woman is harder to manage than you’d believe.” He didn’t press Michael about marrying Drew. Brina had won this round. Michael was willing to bet that Brina was a pretty good “manager” herself. “The only way to convince her she can’t come with us to find Drew was to tell her I don’t want our younger children orphaned.” He grimaced. “I sure enjoyed
that
conversation.” He turned to Michael. “Can you locate Drew?”

Michael nodded. He had no more thought about it than he felt his power surge up through him. It tightened his chest and filled his throat. It had never been that strong before. He sucked in a breath in surprise. The grid popped up immediately, before he could even call it, and Drew was front and center. He didn’t even have to think about her. What was up with that? He examined the grid carefully. He saw the wide expanse of flat. “She’s … near the lake.
First line of tall buildings.
And she’s up high.” He opened his eyes.