The Wedding Spell Page 20

  Sebastian remained silent.

  Ali grew irritated. What did he think this was, fun and games, a show to entertain him?

  “I’ll turn that ceramic frog sitting amongst the plants by the end of the pool into a real one,” she said sharply.

  “That was enough, Ali. I don’t need any more proof,” he urged, not wanting her to suffer needless humiliation.

  “Yes, you do.” And with that she shot her finger directly at the frog. It took two hops and released a croak.

  Sebastian nodded, common sense telling him the frog was probably real to begin with.

  Ali glared at him wide-eyed. “What do you mean it was probably a real frog to begin with?”

  “Stop reading my mind,” he ordered.

  “Then open it and see clearly for the first time in your life.”

  “Fine,” he said, raising his voice. “You’re skilled in magic; in creating an illusion... you are a witch.”

  “I am a witch.” Her temper soared and she rubbed her hands together creating a ball of white sparkling energy. Then she tossed it up over her head and it burst, sprinkling down around her in hundreds of twinkling lights.

  “All right,” he insisted. “You are skilled—”

  “In what?” she demanded, her green eyes shining so brightly they looked to be on fire.

  “Magic,” he said firmly.

  Ali was proud of who she was and her heritage. She would not have him equate her powerful skills to that of a mortal magician.

  “You are familiar with how magicians levitate?” she asked, her hands spreading out in front of her as if demonstrating she possessed nothing and concealed nothing.

  “I’m not certain exactly how it is done, but I know it is an illusion,” he said, wondering what she intended to do.

  “And you know that for the illusion to be successful everyone must work together to create it?”

  “Of course,” he agreed. “How could you levitate someone if they weren’t part of the act?”

  “A witch requires no such preparation,” she said and cast her hands out in front of her, her fingers pointing directly at him.

  Sebastian wasn’t sure how she did it. He felt nothing, barely realized he was being lifted. But she had him off the ground, his body rising slowly, and then to his surprise his whole body turned and he was brought to lie straight out on his back as if on a table, his eyes looking directly up at the ceiling.

  She walked over to him, his floating body eye level with her chest. “Convinced?”

  He took a deep breath. Could it be a dream?

  “No, Sebastian, it isn’t a dream. You are floating in thin air.”

  “There must be a reasonable—”

  “Enough!” She pointed to the pool. “A dip?”

  He floated slowly toward the pool, his body turning and lowering just as slowly until he came to a stop dead center over the pool, his nose a mere inch away from the water.

  His body remained rigid and unmovable whether by his choice or her command, he wasn’t certain.

  This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible.

  “Oh, but it is happening and it is possible,” she assured him, standing at the edge of the pool.

  He caught sight of her out f the corner of his eye. Her hands were spread out in a gesture that appeared to him to be his only means of actual support. She couldn’t possess such startling powers. It was simply impossible. He would find a reason for this. He would—

  “No, Sebastian,” she said calmly. “There is no sane, rational explanation for what is happening to you, except—”

  “You’re a witch,” he finished.

  “Do you believe now?”

  He wouldn’t look at her. He wouldn’t answer. He didn’t know how to respond. He shook his head.

  “Then perhaps this will help you to decide,” she said.

  He quickly shut his eyes, thinking she intended to release him into the water below. He dropped suddenly and before he could catch his breath, he stopped just as suddenly.

  He opened his eyes and they widened in shock. He was only inched from the bottom of the pool and there was no water beneath him or around him. His body turned over once again and there, rising up above, to the sides like majestic waterfalls, was the pool water split in half.

  Before he could breathe, reason, or speak, his body began to move, drifting up and out of the pool. He was turned to a standing position and brought to rest soundly on his feet at the pool’s edge. Then he watched in stunned silence as the water cascaded gently back into the pool.

  Ali waited for his reaction. She hadn’t intended to take her powers to such extreme, but his skepticism irritated her. She had thought, had hoped that there was a hint of belief in him. At least if there was there would be a shred of hope to build on.

  But was he too rooted in logic to comprehend true magic?

  He released a slow, steady breath before turning to face her.

  She held her head up with pride. Her green eyes shined brilliantly in a face so beautiful it could steal a man’s breath away.

  He wanted to speak, wanted to say something, but all sensible thought eluded him. He couldn’t understand. She was a real, honest-to-goodness witch.

  That meant she cast spells. Real spells, not fun and game spells. Had she cast a spell on him to love her?

  Eccentric.

  Why couldn’t she have just been eccentric? That he could have dealt with. But a witch?

  A real witch?

  He shook his head, looked at Ali, and without speaking a word he walked passed her, out of the pool area, through the house, out the front door, and Ali feared... out of her life.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Sebastian sat in his office, all appointments for the day canceled. He had thought of staying home, but the idea of spending the entire day alone in the house with just his irrational thoughts propelled him to come to work.

  Once there he found himself unable to concentrate on anything but Alisande and last night’s incident. He had directed Ms. Smithers to cancel all his activities for the day and not to disturb him, for anyone or for any reason. That meant he would take no calls from any member of the Wyrrd family or their friends.

  Ms. Smithers acknowledged his instructions with a simple nod and a worried frown and had quietly closed the door behind her.

  That had been early this morning. It was now almost two in the afternoon, and he hadn’t budged from the leather chair behind his desk.

  Last night was no dream, but it certainly felt like a nightmare. He had tried to understand and make at least an ounce of sense out of the strange and incomprehensible incident.

  Impossible.

  He shook his head, an action he had repeated frequently all day. How did one accept and cope with the probability of the person he loved being a witch? Especially when you, yourself, don’t believe in witches? When your beliefs are rooted in the sound and the practical, how do you accept the illogical?

  He hadn’t slept all night and after endless hours of pacing the floor and then twisting and turning in bed, he gave up and went to his computer. He researched magic. Mortal magic. He had even managed to find a magician, a few degrees above amateur he claimed, who was online and who he had spoken with in great length.

  There was absolutely no way that Ali could have rigged that demonstration, which meant her powers were genuine.

  She was a full-fledged witch?

  No matter how many times he admitted that to himself, he still had difficulty accepting it. He assumed his background, based so solidly on sound reasoning and sensibility, refused to allow him to believe in anything beyond the acceptable and proven.

  But Ali had certainly proven her abilities to him.

  And with that proof had come startling realization. Had the spell she cast on him when they had first met been the reason he had fallen so madly in love with her?

  Was what he felt a result of magic or true love?

  He had th
ought of calling her, actually he ached to see her, to speak with her, to hold her, and yet he prevented himself from doing so. He had to determine what she had done to him. Until he sorted this whole mess out, he couldn’t, nor would he, speak to her.

  Sebastian pressed the intercom button. “Ms. Smithers, please come in here a moment.”

  The woman entered quietly prepared with pen and notebook in hand.

  Sebastian stood. “I’m going to take the rest of the day off and...” He paused a moment, as if deciding. “I will not be coming to work tomorrow. Please see to clearing my calendar.”

  Carol Smithers nodded, speechless. Sebastian Wainwright hadn’t missed a day of work the whole time she had been in his employment.

  “Sir,” she said softly.

  He waited for her to continue.

  “Alisande Wyrrd has left numerous messages for you.”

  “Thank you,” was all he said.

  Ms. Smithers knowing she had just been dismissed nodded and left as quietly as she had entered.

  He sighed and plopped back down in his chair. He was far from a coward. He had faced difficult, even life-threatening situations, but never, ever had he faced a witch; a bona fide, spell-casting, object-floating witch.

  Damn, damn, damn,” he muttered and stood and with determined strides walked out of his office and straight out of the building without a cordial word to anyone.

  o0o

  Ali walked in the woods that surrounded the Wyrrd estate. She always found solace and peace in nature. It was so simple and pure and the energy it offered freely was soothing to the soul.

  What was she to do now? She had attempted to contact Sebastian all day and he had refused her phone calls. Ms. Smithers was gracious about it, explaining he was detained with an important matter, but Ali sensed the truth, and it hurt that he didn’t want to speak with her.

  She had literally scolded herself senseless last night. She should have never used her powers in such an outrageous fashion. She should have proceeded with caution; after all, Sebastian was a mere mortal. How could she expect him to react any differently than he had? She had shocked him senseless and expected what?

  Acceptance?

  She supposed it was the fact that he claimed to love her and with love, at least to Ali, was acceptance. He would not believe who she was. He still assumed that she performed little magic tricks. She had allowed her emotions to rule and a witch knew better, but she had totally disregarded her own knowledge and had acted abominably.

  His shock had been tangible. She had felt it as though his reaction were her own. And she knew before he took a step that he would walk away from her. When he had walked out the door and she had heard it shut, her first thought was that he was lost to her forever.

  This morning with the sun shining brightly, the weather not so humid, and the promise of a new day, she felt a small sense of relief. Her unanswered phone calls soon turned her slim thread of hope to abject despair.

  When her aunt and Dagon learned of the incident, they empathized with her and attempted to offer helpful suggestions. Her aunt, though, also warned her of the consequences. Time was now her enemy. If she was determined not to lose Sebastian, then she had no choice but to pursue him and fight for the survival of their love.

  How did one fight for the survival of love when you had to fight the very person who claimed to love you?

  Ali walked deeper into the woods. The large trees with their long abundant, draping branches shaded the fragile foliage and protected the flower blossoms from the summer heat.

  Here was magic at its best.

  She sat under the shade of an old oak tree, leaning back against the sturdy trunk and staring up at the brilliant green leaves that swayed softly in the gentle summer breeze.

  Sunlight peeked its way through the branches and faintly kissed her face, the warm rays comforting. The tears started then; she couldn’t stop them and didn’t want to. She bowed her head, closing her eyes to shield the tears and hide the pain.

  “Now, don’t go crying,” the voice chastened softly.

  The familiar voice brought a tentative smile to her face. “Beatrice.”

  “Look at me, Ali,” the tiny fairy ordered.

  Ali felt her small fingers tap delicately at her cheek, and she lifted her head and did as she was told.

  Beatrice stood on her right shoulder, pushing at her drooping head wreath and fluttering her crooked wings. She wore a concerned smile and raised a wagging finger to Ali’s face.

  “Now, you can’t go giving up.”

  Ali remained silent. She had learned over a century ago that you did not interrupt Beatrice when she preached her lessons.

  “He’s a stubborn one that Sebastian Wainwright, but not unsalvageable. He wants to believe. He truly does,” she insisted and leaned against Ali’s cheek to wipe a tiny tear that trickled from her eye.

  “You can’t be expecting a man who has based his growth and knowledge on sound reasoning to easily accept that which is illogical.”

  Ali sighed. “True, but you see I rashly used a spell on him that I had full confidence would succeed.”

  “The magical love spell, of course,” Beatrice said matter-of-factly. “What other spell could you use on such a powerful mortal?”

  Ali’s eyes rounded wide. “You don’t think I was foolish?”

  Beatrice laughed and waved her small arms joyously in the air. “Love is foolish, so what makes us think then that we won’t act foolish?”

  “But I had only met him.”

  Beatrice tapped her cheek. “Listen up, Alisande. You listened to your heart and soul and they never lie. They told you true that when you met him he was the one for you and you for him. If you did not truly believe, you would have never cast that spell. You are far too intelligent and I am far too good of a teacher to have one of my students act impulsively. You acted foolishly, an acceptable behavior when you are in love.”

  “Then why didn’t he act foolishly?”

  Beatrice laughed so hard her head wreath fell down to completely cover one eye. She pushed it up, holding it there for a moment while she regained her composure.

  “You don’t call talking to fairies in the woods foolish?”

  “No, not at all,” Ali said with a heavy sigh.

  “Pay attention here, Alisande,” Beatrice directed, tapping Ali’s cheek. “We are talking about a mortal, not a witch.”

  A faint smile surfaced on Ali’s face. “True.”

  “And did he not roll around on the grass making love with you?”

  That gave Ali pause. He had not hesitated in joining her, but he was mortal. “He is a mortal man with mortal desires.”

  “You mean he is a mortal man in love with a desirable witch, which in turn makes him act foolishly.”

  Ali shook her head. “I just don’t know.”

  “It’s what you do know that counts,” Beatrice urged. “The only thing that matters is your love for him and his love for you. With love anything is possible.”

  “Even between a witch and mortal?” she asked reluctantly.

  “No, luv,” Beatrice said softly. “Between a man and a woman.”

  As usual, Beatrice made sense, but there was still the matter of him refusing to speak with her. “He won’t answer my phone calls.”

  “Then go to him.”

  “What if he refuses to see me?”

  Beatrice laughed. “You’re a witch, how can he stop you?”

  “What if—”

  Beatrice placed a finger to her lips to silence her. “What if are but little words. Will you allow two small words to determine your future?”

  Ali’s smile grew a little bolder. “You always taught that individuals determined their future.”

  “So what is in your future, Ali?”

  “A battle,” she answered with a laugh.

  “And your weapon?” Beatrice asked, holding up a clasped hand as if she held an imaginary sword.

  Ali’s smile grew bright.
“Love.”

  o0o

  Sebastian sat in the room off the kitchen watching twilight descend beyond the sliding-glass doors. He had poured himself a glass of wine more than an hour ago and had yet to touch it. He was too lost in his thoughts to move.

  He had changed into black knit shorts when he had arrived home, had gotten the wine, and had deposited himself on the couch, where he had remained. He had ignored the ring of the phone, the buzz of the doorbell, and the beep on his computer signaling that he had mail. He wanted solitude.

  He had no doubt that Ali continued to call him. She may have even been one of the people at his door, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk with anyone. He was too busy wallowing in his own misery.

  And soon, very soon, he would have to make a decision, though within the last hour he had given thought to picking up and taking off for a week or two. Time away and alone just might clear his head sufficiently enough for him to think rationally.

  Like a mortal.

  Well, he was a mortal and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it or even wanted to do about it. It was who he was, a mortal man full of mortal values, opinions, and logic. Something a particular woman did not comprehend.

  A witch.

  “All right, a witch,” he admitted to the empty room or himself or whoever invaded his thoughts, “a witch who with a flick of her finger could send me flying up in midair and probably clear across the room. How does a mortal man cope with that?”

  Delicately.

  “I’m not delicate,” he shouted and jumped off the sofa. “I’m strong and have enough courage and obstinacy to face the most difficult situations and be victorious or at least be better off for having tried.”

  He held up his fingers and glared at them. “But I can’t snap my fingers and move people around like chess pieces. So how does a mortal male handle a witch?”

  With lots of love.

  Sebastian knew that voice. He heard it clearly in his head. He shut his eyes for a moment, refusing to accept the obvious, but then his stubbornness took root, and he opened his eyes and turned his head. He stared at the sliding-glass doors.

  Ali stood on the other side. She wore a white silk dress that glided adoringly along every curve of her temptress body. Her blond hair looked windswept, and her full lips wore a faint blush that begged to be kissed.