That Touch of Magic (28 page)

“For science,” he’d said, with a glint in his eye.

I controlled my magic perfectly. I was now at the point where I didn’t need sex to do it, but I wasn’t about to tell Leo that. I needed the sex to block out everything else: the sadness, the fear, the guilt. In his arms, with him inside me, everything seemed right, even when it was horribly, horribly wrong.

Afterward, while he napped, I stared up at my ceiling, watching it spin above me, first one way, then another, like a ball twirling back and forth on the end of a string. There was a moment when things started going dark, and I realized I had stopped breathing. I took in deep breaths, consciously willing the air in and out of my lungs, until the world stabilized enough for me to sneak out to the shed. I retrieved a vial from my dwindling supply. After the vial I gave to Peach to take care of the Widow, that left only two remaining. Something had to work out, fast, or this was going to end really, really badly, really, really fast. With shaky hands, I filled it with water and drank it down. I settled on my stolen bar stool and waited until the world started to look normal again, then went back to the ’Bago, crawled into bed next to Leo, and slept, taking it on blind faith that I would wake up again.

I did.

Liv and Tobias stopped by at eight that night. We made coffee and sat around my little kitchenette table. It was crazy how intimate and casual it felt, like we were just two couples getting together to drink some coffee and play some cards.

“Turns out, Desmond has been on the radar with the magical agencies for a while now,” Tobias said, sliding a manila folder across the table to me. “And with good reason.”

I flipped the folder open and scanned over the printouts inside.

“Desmond Benedict?” I pointed to the name on the top of the first page, which was full of sparse, simple sentences typed in a stark Courier font. Some of the information was blacked out with marker; it looked like one of those leaked governmental reports you find on conspiracy websites.

“He changed it to Lamb when he emigrated to Canada,” Tobias said.

I flipped a page; it was a photocopy of a page from the
Haslemere Herald.
In the middle of the page was a gray smudge that indicated a highlighted name and there it was: Desmond Benedict, one name in a list of graduates from the local high school. I flipped another page, and found another photocopy with another gray smudge highlight, this time a mention in the alumni newsletter that Desmond Benedict had graduated at the top of his class at Oxford and gotten a full scholarship to medical school.

Liv leaned forward. “Most of this is just background stuff. It gets interesting about…” She flipped through a few pages, then stuffed her index finger on one. “Here.”

I glanced at Leo, then read out loud.
“Dr. Desmond Benedict, a neurologist originally of Haslemere, Surrey, had his medical license revoked for the unauthorized use of the brains of human cadavers for personal research…”
I pulled back, trying to gain distance between me and the page. “Eww.”

“Yeah,” Liv said, and reached over to flip a few more pages for me. “This is also interesting.”

It was a blog post from a woman named Alysia Creek, a journalism student from London, talking about the day she spent shopping with her boyfriend. There was nothing particularly interesting about it, just your standard navel-gazing, but at the bottom of the page, there was a picture of her with the boyfriend. She was stunning. Dark eyes; long, curly brown hair; a creamy complexion most women would kill for. She was laughing and turning her head to look at a tall man, who held her from behind and smiled at the camera, awkward but delighted. It took me a moment to recognize him.

“Oh, my God,” I said, and leaned in to get a closer look.

“Hey, is that…?” Leo said, coming to the same delayed recognition.

“Yep,” Liv said. “Took me a minute, too.”

The post was some eight years old, but still … even in the photocopied printout, I could recognize Desmond. The high cheekbones, the wide-set eyes, the curly brown hair a little longer than he kept it now. But at the same time that it was Desmond, it wasn’t. This guy’s eyes were warm, and he had the distinct look of a dork in love: happy, surprised by his own good fortune, and vulnerable to the point where it almost hurt to look at him.

“Maybe … is this his twin or something?” I asked. “Because that’s him, but that’s not him.”

Liv pointed her finger to a spot on the page. “Not unless both twins were named Desmond.”

And there it was. Alysia had written,
Desmond was a darling about all the shoes I bought.

A darling? Huh.

“Notice anything else?” Liv asked.

I stared down at the picture, scanned the text of the post quickly, and raised my head to look at her. “No. What?”

“She looks like you,” Leo said, his voice stiff.

I looked at the picture again, trying to see the resemblance. Aside from the long, dark hair, I didn’t see it. “No, she doesn’t. She looks sweet.”

“You’re sweet,” Liv said in that automatic way best friends use to when they’re lying to your face.

I gave her a look. “Please.”

“Deep, deep … you know,
deep
down,” she said.

Leo pulled the picture closer to take a longer look, and I focused on Tobias.

“Anything else of note?”

“Yeah,” he said darkly. “A few weeks before he left England, she went into a mental institution, and a month after being admitted to the institution, she hanged herself with a bedsheet.”

I heard Desmond’s voice in my head.
Those women sacrificed for a reason, and I won’t have that sacrifice rendered meaningless because some upstart bitch is having a crisis of conscience.

“Doesn’t say much about why she went into the hospital in the first place,” Tobias went on, “but something went south in her brain about six months after Desmond got his license revoked for messing with brains. It’s a hell of a coincidence.”

Leo shut the manila folder and set it back in front of me. I could feel the tension coming off him in waves. I reached out and took his hand, then looked straight at Tobias.

“Thank you,” I said. “I hope this doesn’t cause you any problems. I know it was a big thing to ask.”

Tobias shrugged. “I have some friends I trust on the inside. I’m not worried.” He seemed to be genuinely unconcerned when he said it, but when I looked at Liv, there was strain in her smile.

“If it helps you fix all of this, it’s worth it,” she said.

*   *   *

“Well, that sucked,” I said to Leo later as we were getting ready for bed.

“We got some good information,” he said.

“Yeah, and I risked Tobias’s safety and Liv’s happiness to do it. And I don’t even know if it’s anything I can work with.” I sat on the edge of the bed and threw myself backward. “Maybe Nick’s right.”

Leo got on the bed and pulled me into his arms. “What did Nick say?”

“He said that I do whatever I want, and to hell with everyone else.”

Leo kissed me on the forehead. “Do you think he’s right?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

I looked up at him. “Do you think he’s right?”

Leo smiled. “Yeah.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“Stacy … it’s not a bad thing,” he said. “You always look at yourself in the most negative possible light. You have to stop that. It’s not good for you.”

I rolled over on my side. “Fine. You tell me how being selfish and not caring about how what I do affects other people is a positive thing.”

He reached out and moved my hair away from my face. “That’s not what I said. Look, when things are important, you do what needs doing. You’re a person who gets things done, who makes things happen.”

“I’m Stacy goddamned Easter,” I said, and closed my eyes.

“Yes, you are,” he said softly, “and don’t ever forget what an amazing thing that is.”

I put my hand over my face. “I’ve run out of time, Leo.”

He moved closer to me on the bed. “Don’t say that.”

I lifted my head. “There are two vials left, that’s it. Best-case scenario, I talk Desmond into taking me with him as his lab rat—”

Leo’s eyes flashed. “You’re not going anywhere with him.”

“—and the worst-case scenario is that he runs off and leaves us with no cure, no more of the vials to keep us going, and we all die.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Leo said.

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that.”

He raised his eyes to look at me. “I know.”

“How?” I said, lowering my hand, fully frustrated. “How in hell can you know that?”

He smiled at me, the most simple, beautiful smile. “Because I have faith.” He pulled me into his arms. “Because you’re Stacy goddamned Easter, and I know you. I know what you’re capable of, and I know that Desmond Lamb or Benedict or whoever the hell he is has no idea what he’s dealing with.”

“Oh, you sweet, sweet man,” I said, putting my hand to his face. “Get out now. Save yourself.”

Leo’s eyes darkened. “I hate when you do that, you know.”

“What?”

“I’m not perfect, Stacy. I’ve made mistakes. I was the one who cheated, I was the one who left. You act like you’re so broken and I’m so good—”

“Because it’s the truth!” I pushed up to sitting, slamming my hand on the bed, unable to contain my frustration. “And I mean it, Leo. You should get out while you still can, before my damage breaks your heart. Before … before I do something to make you look at me with disappointment, and that breaks mine.”

Leo sat up as well, pulling his legs up and resting his forearms on them as he looked at me. “Do you really want me to leave?”

“No,” I whined, “but you should. Any idiot can see that. I’m trouble. Nick can see it, my mother can see it…”

“You gotta stop letting your mother into your head,” Leo said.

“Even if she’s right?”

“She’s not.”

I turned my face to the wall and swiped at my eyes. I was too tired, beyond exhausted, scared to death, and this was too much for me to handle. There was a reason why I’d never had a serious relationship since Leo left: It was too much damn
work.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked quietly.

“No,” I said, then followed that up immediately with, “Yes.”

“Okay, let me put it another way. Do you love me?”

“Oh, God, not this,” I said.

“Do you love me?”

“It doesn’t matter, Leo.”

“It matters more than anything else,” he said, his voice calm and quiet. “Do you love me?”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. He spooned me against him, his body warm and comforting behind me, making me feel safe for the first time since he’d last held me like that in high school. That last of my strength to fight left me, and I snuggled next to him and let the comfort in.

“I love you,” he said softly in my ear, “and you love me. Why can’t we just do that?”

I tightened my grip on his arms around my middle. “I won’t survive it.”

“Won’t survive what?”

“Losing you,” I said.

“Then don’t,” he whispered, and held on to me tighter.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Close your eyes.”

I did, and Leo smoothed my hair back and gently kissed my neck.

“It’s possible this could all go horribly wrong,” he said. “You could die. I could die. Bad things can happen. There are no guarantees.”

“Wow,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at him. “Did you fail Comforting 101 in priest school or what?”

He smiled. “Close your eyes.”

He waited until I did as told, and then he tightened his hold on me.

“It’s also possible that things could work out. We could figure these problems out. We could be happy every day for the rest of our lives. We could grow old together. We could have children, grandchildren. Adventures. It is possible that we could love each other freely and without restraint for the rest of our lives.”

My eyes whipped open. “Wow.”

“What?”

I turned over onto my back and looked up at him. “I just … I never thought…”

“You never thought for a moment that the Universe wouldn’t punish you for just being you?”

I lowered my head and rested it against his arm. “No. Never.”

He gave a small, sad laugh. His eyes trailed over my face until they met mine again.

“You’re not broken,” he said. “You weren’t born Wrong, and the world hasn’t been punishing you. You’re an amazing, strong, beautiful woman and you deserve good things.” He kissed me behind my ear. “Tell me something?”

“Something,” I mumbled, snuggling up next to him.

“What does your perfect world look like?”

“I don’t know,” I said sleepily.

“Imagine it,” he said.

I took a moment, and did just that. I imagined Leo and me, happy together. Sex on a blanket under the stars. Dancing to Frank Sinatra at our wedding. Sunshine and hot days and a grubby, grinning kid with chocolate ice cream smudged on his chin. Leo teaching him how to ride a bike, then looking back at me with excitement when he takes off, zooming down the street on his own power. I saw us having Thanksgiving dinner with Peach and Nick and Liv and Tobias. I saw us decorating Christmas trees, taking a horde of kids out for Halloween.

Up until that moment, when I thought about my future, I never saw … anything. Just a flat expanse of pretty much the same life: alone, predictable, under my control. Never loving anyone, and never allowing anyone to love me. I had always been okay with that. It had always seemed like the only way life could work, and I’d always felt kind of sorry for the people who tried to make it work any other way. Too much pain, not enough benefit.

But watching Leo teach that imaginary kid to ride that bike changed me, in an instant. I
wanted
that life. I wanted it so bad that it felt like my insides were reaching out for it, pushing me into a place I didn’t think existed. I fell asleep dreaming about that world, and believing for the first time in my life that it might actually be possible.

*   *   *

Even now, I don’t entirely know what I was thinking. I woke up at two in the morning. Leo was fast asleep, and I slid easily out of bed without waking him up. All I meant to do was sit at the table, look over the information, see if maybe I’d catch a useful detail in there somewhere. When I picked up my car keys and slid outside, even then, I wasn’t really intending to confront Desmond. I was just jumpy, and I thought a drive might soothe my nerves. It wasn’t until I pulled into the little parking lot at the back of Grace and Addie’s B&B that I realized I was doing exactly what I’d intended all along.