Authors: Heather Graham
Justin stared at Tom with disbelief. “You can’t possibly believe that … that …”
“That Miles and Eleanora have come back?” Tom queried. “No, I guess I don’t really. But I’m sure you’ve heard the story; they both met with disastrous ends.”
Justin stood. “Thanks, Tom. I’m going to marry your sister next weekend. Think you can be here?”
A slow grin filtered through Tom’s cheeks. “Sure,” he said.
Justin began to walk out of the room. “Hey, Justin,” Tom called. Justin paused. “I think you ought to get Serena out of here for a while. You’re welcome out at the Cape.”
Justin deliberated Tom’s words. “Yeah, I think you’re right. But I think we’ll head into New York this time. And for tonight”—he paused, a tic pulsing in the thick cords of his neck—“I think we’ll get her up and out. Why don’t you find Martha and see if she wants to go to dinner? I’ll talk to the Donnesys and Bakers quickly before I go up to Serena.”
Justin wanted his plans set before he spoke to Serena. He hadn’t been able to believe the way she had repulsed him; her screams had been daggers that dug into his flesh. And now he understood.
But he couldn’t allow her to forfeit their love, their lifetimes, on a distant tragedy, no matter what the coincidences.
The elderly couples had returned while Tom was in with his sister, and Justin had explained only that Serena had locked herself into the stairwell. Now he went to the Donnesys and spoke with them quickly, asking for their help in anticipation of Serena’s protests.
He explained his plan and received their enthusiastic response. Only then did he tap on the remnants of Serena’s door, opening without waiting for her acknowledgment.
She was still lying in bed, exceptionally beautiful to him as she clutched the sheets about her. Martha had changed her into a long white gown, and her hair looked exactly like polished copper against the white. Her eyes were still huge and violet against the pale ivory of her face.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she returned.
Justin walked over and sat beside her on the bed.
“I love you,” he whispered.
She burst into tears.
He held her, and she didn’t fight him. He kept soothing the hair from her forehead, and finally she calmed down enough to talk. “Oh, Justin, I love you! But I … we can’t be, Justin! Something terrible will happen. Oh, I know you think that I’m crazy, but I’m really frightened.”
“Shh … Serena,” Justin murmured. “Serena, there are similarities, but there are differences, too! I’m the farthest thing in the world from a sea captain. I have to inhale Dramamine for a week to get into a row boat! And you’re a widow, sweetheart, not a philandering wife!”
“But, Justin—”
“I don’t believe in reincarnation, Serena. Nor spirits of the past coming out in vengeance.”
Serena stared at him, wishing desperately that she could be so sure. “Justin, you don’t believe in things, but my brother came here today because he sensed, he knew something was wrong. How can you deny that?”
“I don’t deny it. I fully believe that ESP exists. It’s a new science, sweetheart, being studied more thoroughly all the time. But what you’re afraid of is different, Serena.”
Serena suddenly reached out and touched his chin, thinking how terribly much she loved him. She liked the feel of his slightly scratchy skin beneath her fingertips. She liked his face, the eyes so full of both humor and intensity. She loved the white teeth against the full-shaped lips and rugged bronze flesh.
And I could make something terrible happen to him.
“We’re getting married next Saturday,” he announced.
For a moment she forgot her fears. “What?”
“I think I’m going to have to buy you a hearing aid early,” he teased. “I said we’re getting married next Saturday.”
“But … but … I thought you didn’t believe in marriage.”
He grinned. “I guess I do. Serena, I love you. I can’t stand being without you. Want to tell me a nice yes?”
She discovered that she was able to laugh. “I didn’t realize you needed my agreement. It sounded like an announcement.”
“Yeah, I guess it did. An old mind trick, Serena. If I say something with authority, there’s less chance you’ll say no.”
The laughter she had been feeling died away. She slipped her arms around his neck and pressed tightly, desperately against him. “Oh, Justin, don’t you see? I’m afraid for you! I was locked in the stairwell. Now … now something awful could happen to you—”
“Serena, you were locked in the stairwell, yes, but you’re out! And you’re fine! The past is not repeating itself!”
She was shivering as he held her. He drew away to smile at her. “And you look gorgeous except for that black eye.”
Serena glanced down nervously. “Where’s Marc?”
Justin laughed. “Marc has gone home, and he’s just fine, too. Lots of faith you had in me, young lady.”
“I’m sorry,” Serena murmured.
“Don’t be,” Justin admitted dryly. “If we all hadn’t been so worried about you, I might have been tempted. But he’s a nice guy, Serena. We can all be on good terms. He left now because he does still love you. It will take a little time for us all to be able to sit around a fire and chat.”
Justin rose and reached out a hand. Serena looked at him doubtfully.
“Up, my love. Put on something nice. We’re going out to dinner.”
“Tonight?”
“Yep. You’ve had a nice long sleep, and there’s not a thing really wrong with you. You’re not going to sit around here and brood all night. Martha is already getting dressed up, and Tom is all set. Mildred and Gayle both said they’d be happy as larks prowling about the kitchen themselves. And then when we get home tonight, we’re going to pack.”
“Pack?” Serena repeated incredulously.
“Ummm. We’re going to drive back to New York for a few days. I still have some research to do on home turf.”
“But, Justin,” Serena protested, “I can’t leave! I have to open the museum tomorrow. Susan can’t possibly handle the summer crowds alone!”
“Susan isn’t going to handle them alone. She’s going to have all kinds of help. Mildred and Gayle and Giles and Pierce.”
“Oh, no,” Serena murmured. “I can’t … I mean, they can’t …”
“And why not?”
As if on cue, the battered door that no longer really closed opened and in breezed Mildred Donnesy, who stared at Serena with her silver-blue eyes indignant. “If I can take over the entire world, Serena Loren, I can certainly help manage a little witchcraft museum for a few days!”
“It’s not fair to you—”
“Posh! It will be sheer pleasure to really function as an indispensable commodity!”
Justin grinned at Mildred, then at Serena. “You’re outnumbered, my love.”
Serena glanced at Justin and heard the door quietly semiclose—this time, with a click. Mildred had left them alone.
She was still uneasy, still frightened.
But still so terribly, terribly in love with the man taking over her life. She noticed suddenly that a long jagged cut lay beneath a lock of hair on his forehead.
“Justin!” she exclaimed. “What did you do?”
He laughed. “Had a fight with the paneling instead of Marc!
That’s okay. When we go out together, any busybodies can discuss us all they like. We’ll look like battling marrieds!”
“Justin!” Serena protested with a chuckle. “Do you think we will be battling marrieds?” she asked.
“Only now and then.” He reached down and kissed her, slowly and leisurely, reminding them both of the fires that could race through their blood.
He straightened. “I’m getting out of here,” he said huskily, hazel eyes glinting like those of a demon, “or we’ll never get to dinner. I’d help you dress, but I’m afraid I’d stop when I got the nightgown off!” He strode to the door, turned and smiled, and whispered a quick “Hurry,” and then left, closing the fragment of her door behind him.
Serena watched him leave, thinking again how terribly much she loved him.
And how terribly—no matter how ridiculously—scared she was.
“New York,” she whispered to herself.
It would all be all right in New York.
Or would it?
I
F ANYTHING WAS THE
opposite of the Golden Hawk, Justin’s New York apartment was it.
The kitchen was small. A sparkling tile counter overlooked a large, long living space, and four leather bar stools were lined up in front of the counter. There was a contemporary dining set with an almost Oriental flair before the long room sank down a step.
A copper fireplace sat in the middle of the sunken area, flanked by chairs and a low couch in a cream-colored leather. The carpeting was a shade darker than the chairs, but the overall lightness was offset by warm wood end tables and the interwoven cream and brown drapes. The apartment really wouldn’t have “looked” like Justin at all, except that the end tables and hanging glass shelves were covered with books and interesting little carvings, proof of his delving into the voodoo mysticism of the islands and the occultism of other places and peoples.
Justin watched her as Serena wandered into the apartment, smiling. She paused to examine a little leather satchel that hung on the wall, and he followed behind her, taking the item from its little hook and opening it for her.
“That’s the medicine or magic pouch of a Shoshoni shaman,” he told her. Then he laughed. “The American Indians had some rituals that would make even Sue’s hair stand on end.”
Serena laughed with him. Here, in New York, it was easy to forget she had been frightened.
“What do you think of the apartment?” he asked.
Serena replaced the satchel on the wall and slipped her arms around his neck. “I love it,” she replied, brushing his lips with hers.
He grinned wickedly. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Come on, I’ll show you the balcony first.”
It was more of a porch than a balcony. There was an area of concrete flooring with wrought iron chairs and a glass-top table, a profusion of hanging plants, and a gas barbecue grill. The concrete flooring ended to the left, and another set of hanging plants sheltered an area of raised wooden decking.
Serena lifted a brow to Justin.
“Whirlpool.” He chuckled. “What else?”
He smiled. “My students are all at the grad level—nice, adult, people.” He took her hand and led her up the steps to the whirlpool, then past the whirlpool to another set of sliding doors. “Let me guess,” Serena murmured. “Your bedroom.”
“Our bedroom,” he corrected.
Serena smiled and moved through the doors.
The bed, low to the floor, was the dominant fixture of the room. Its cover was a huge cowhide; it was backed by a low headboard of shelves and crannies. As in the living room, the sleek stylings of the headboard and dressers had a very contemporary, slightly Oriental flair. “Very nice, Dr. O’Neill,” she murmured.
He chuckled. “I’m not really much on design myself,” he admitted. “I never had time. The place was done by a decorator.”
“Oh.” She suddenly felt shy with him, realizing how much she still had to learn about the man she had agreed to marry in a week. An open door led back to the living room. She walked through it quickly and discovered two more doors off the long living area. She glanced at Justin as he followed her, and he opened the first. “Guest bath, and”—he continued on to the second—“all the stuff to keep my ego going,” he teased as he opened the second to display a room full of weights and other exercise paraphernalia.
Serena merely pursed her lips together with a half smile.
He came to her and pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair as she lay against his chest. “Not tremendous, but it will do for a while, don’t you think?”
Serena broke away from him with a worried little frown. “Justin, don’t you think we may be behaving a bit rashly. I mean, we haven’t discussed anything at all. You’re taking it for granted that I can just move to New York. What about the Golden Hawk? What about the museum? I’ve been working a long time, Justin. I put a lot into building up that museum.”
He paused, silent for a minute, a wary shield over his eyes. “I’m a department chairman, Serena,” he said finally. “I can’t simply walk out of my job without notice.”
Serena began wandering about the living room, picking up the little carvings in pretend study. Her heart was hammering as she wondered why she was trying to pick an argument. I’m not, she thought. These are things that have to be discussed.
“I
own
the Museum of Fact and Fantasy,” she said, “but you expect me to just walk out.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Justin interrupted impatiently. “I know we’re going to have to make arrangements for management and all that, but I don’t really see the problem. Sue can carry the place; we’ll have to hire an assistant for her. I’m sure she’ll know someone capable, maybe another witch from her coven.”
“There’s the Golden Hawk—”
“Where Martha already does all the work.”
Serena spun around. “But what about me, Justin? I’m not Denise. I can’t spend my life being a faculty wife!”
The hazel in his eyes darkened; Serena saw the tightening of the muscles in his face. Her heart fluttered for a moment as she also saw the stretching of his cotton shirt across his frame. It was so easy to read Justin’s anger: the slightest inward twitch of annoyance became visible because his physique was so well toned.
“Serena, you’re picking at things because you’re still scared. We have lots of time to decide on the future. Maybe we won’t stay in New York; maybe we will make Salem our home. Maybe we’ll decide to move to Nevada, who the hell can say? But right now, we’re staying away from the Golden Hawk and all that absurd mumbo jumbo about Eleanora and Miles! Do you understand?”
Tears started to prick her eyes as she realized he was right; she hadn’t left her fears behind her at all. They were inside of her, as deep-seated as the consuming, irrational love that made her need Justin as she needed air.
She wrenched away from his grasp and turned her back on him. “It isn’t mumbo jumbo,” she retorted.
“Stop it, Serena.”
“I can’t.”
She felt another tightening of those muscles behind her and flinched with the flash of heat.