For the Love of Magic Read online

She leaned back in her seat and watched the houses go by outside as Aaron fished the phone out of his pocket and answered the call.

  “This is Aaron.”

  She imagined each of those houses had a loving couple in it and she was jealous of the normal life. To have that kind of bond with just one person—it was the only thing forbidden to her.

  “No it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

  She tore her eyes away from the tauntingly peaceful looking homes and watched Aaron drive and talk on his cell. He was so very handsome and intriguing.

  She wanted him. She wanted him for herself. Maeve knew Aaron was not going to be able to accept the demands her position of Vinculum put on her and would put on any relationship they might piece together. And he shouldn’t have to. He deserved something better. She knew it was selfish of her to keep this going for her own enjoyment, but she couldn’t stop herself. She’d never had more fun or been more carefree in all her life. When this ended, it was going to hurt.

  “No, the date’s over, we can come pick you up. Tell me how to get there.” Aaron gestured that he needed something to write with. Maeve located a small notepad and pen in her purse with relative ease. She wrote down the directions that Aaron called out. “Yeah, we’re real close. See you in a few.” He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

  “What is going on? Who are we picking up?”

  “That was Lucas. He went with some girl to a house party and she broke up with him and left. Now he’s stuck at somebody’s house where he doesn’t know anybody and he says the vibe is getting kind of weird.”

  Maeve’s stomach clenched. Her heart raced. “We have to go.”

  “I know we do, but why do you think so?”

  “Jolie had a dream about a girl getting hurt at a strange house. She couldn’t see the girls face and she didn’t recognize anyone in her dream except Lucas.”

  Aaron’s Mustang crept down the street as Maeve leaned out the passenger side window checking the house numbers. “Stop,” she called over her shoulder. She looked at the notepad again. “214. This is it.”

  He double parked and jumped out. “Stay here,” he barked as he jogged in front of the car toward the house.

  “The hell I will,” she huffed. Maeve threw her purse over her shoulder and flew out after him.

  Aaron banged on the front door with his fist.

  As Maeve crossed the front yard, a streetlight reflected on something shiny, catching her eye and making her pause. Changing direction, she dashed toward the side of the house. A red sequined shoe lay partially hidden under some shrubs. Jolie had told them specifically about an expensive women’s shoe in her dream.

  “Aaron!” Maeve whisper-yelled, waving him to her side. She tugged at Aaron’s arm, pulling him around the house, along the wooden fence, gesturing toward the shoe as they passed. They could see the group of men who looked like frat boys gathered around a picnic table in the backyard, their backs turned to the house. Beer cans were strewn around. A pair of female legs hung half on the table, one wearing a red shoe and the other with a pair of panties dangling from the ankle. One of the men undid his fly, giving Maeve a clear view of the back of a girl held face down by several co-conspirators. The moonlight shone on her bare bottom.

  “Oh, my god. Aaron, we can’t let them rape her,” Maeve whispered. There were so many of the men and only two of them. She rummaged through her giant purse trying to find the police-grade tasers that would level the playing field.

  “No we can’t. I’ll distract them and you get her to the car.” He threw her the keys as he took off running. Along the way he grabbed a loose plank from the dilapidating fence.

  Her hands were inside her purse so the keys hit her chest and landed on the ground. They would need them for a getaway. She dropped to her knees and felt in the grass for them. “Aaron, wait!”

  Her yell did not stop him, but it did gain the attention of the gang. The would-be rapist turned just in time to get a plank across the side of his face. The board broke in Aaron’s hands and he ran away from Maeve.

  When the gang released the girl and gave chase, Maeve rushed toward her. The girl sat up. The man Aaron had hit stood stunned between her and Maeve. Touching his head, his hand came back bloody and he clenched it into a fist. His nostrils flared and he narrowed his eyes in Aaron’s direction. He didn’t see Maeve approaching; all his attention was on Aaron. She pulled the first taser from her bag and fired, hitting him in the side with the two dart-like electrodes. All his muscles contracting, he went stiff, too stupefied to even yell out. He shook in place while the taser buzzed and popped.

  He collapsed on the ground. Over the tased man, Maeve saw Aaron slip in the grass at the far corner of the yard. His legs flew up behind him and he hit the ground hard. He struggled to get to his feet as the fastest man caught up to him. Propping himself up on one arm, Aaron swung the other in an uppercut that hit the guy right in the groin. That one doubled over and fell on top of Aaron, giving the slower pursuers time to join them.

  Maeve ejected the cartridge and the wires that linked her taser to the downed man. She used a zip-tie to bind his hands behind him, then checked on the girl. Pressing her fingers to the girl’s throat, Maeve made sure her pulse was strong and her eyes were focused, before shoving the taser into her hand. Maeve grabbed another from her purse along with a can of pepper spray and ran to Aaron. The girl would live. Aaron’s chances were looking worse.

  Pushing the man off only gave the gang a clear view of their target. Aaron flipped over onto his hands and knees, trying to stand. The men standing around him kicked his torso until Aaron collapsed. One knelt on Aaron’s arm while punching him repeatedly in the mouth. The others stomped on his stomach and chest. The dull thuds of their blows urged Maeve on.

  She used her cartridge on the first man she came to. The crackling of the electricity broke their abusive rhythm. When he looked at her with hatred and tried to stand, she hit him again with a jolt of power through the barbs caught in his flesh. While he twitched at her feet, she ejected that cartridge and used the taser in direct contact with the necks of two more of the men. “Stay down!” she yelled at them.

  The three men furthest from Maeve continued to kick Aaron. Not close enough to use her taser, she raised the pepper spray in her other hand, flipped the safety, and mashed the trigger. She aimed at their faces, but they were standing over Aaron so she accidentally dosed him as well. Maeve gave the men she’d already tased a shot for good measure. She stopped as soon as all the men were incapacitated.

  “Lucas!” she screamed hoarsely toward the house. Breathing the tiny particles in the air was enough to sting Maeve’s eyes and burn the back of her throat. She couldn’t care less about the coughing and puking frat boys. She didn’t bother to tell them that rubbing their eyes would make it worse. The air was thick with the chemical as she knelt beside Aaron.

  His nose ran and his eyes streamed rivers of tears trying to rid the body of the offending agent with a flood of liquid. “Lucas!” she yelled again, spittle spewing from her mouth.

  Lucas rushed from the party down the back porch steps. “I’m here. What the hell happened? Aaron, are you okay man?” He choked when he got close, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Aaron didn’t answer him. Maeve handed the taser to Lucas and searched her bag. She grabbed the bottle of water and emptied it on Aaron’s face. She could use the treatment herself but she only thought of Aaron and how selflessly he had risked his own safety for the girl. When the water was gone, she located a handkerchief and gently wiped Aaron’s face. His face relaxed a little as she worked and Aaron’s eyes fluttered open.

  Aaron’s voice broke as he fought gagging. “I wish I’d known... you carry an arsenal... save me some aches.”

  “Sorry.” She rolled him onto his side so that the snot could pour out of his nose instead of down his throat. “Lay still and breathe. Take short quick breaths and try to relax.” She reached into his front
pocket.

  He lifted one eyebrow, saying, “This is…hardly the time.”

  Maeve smirked and shook her head at him. Pulling out his cell phone, she waggled it at him. She flipped it open and dialed.

  “911, what is your emergency?” The practiced greeting was calm.

  “Hello dispatcher. We need an ambulance at 214 Mockingbird. We’ve had a two-six-one-Alan. Tell Chief Eddie Goodwin that this is Maeve Lovejoy calling. Seven suspects have been subdued and detained and await transport.”

  MAEVE SAT clutching her purse in the Chief’s office, though this time her mind was not on the age of the chair or the damage its springs were doing to her backside. Aaron was all she could think about but the world seemed to be conspiring to keep them apart.

  Down at the station, the paperwork took forever. Now she knew why it was every cop’s least favorite part of the job. Maeve had used non-lethal weapons not technically legal for civilians. The men she’d used them on were threatening to press charges but no one was listening. The sergeant helped her fill out detailed reports on each one, fine-tuning the wording until no fault of hers remained.

  Maeve gnawed on her almost non-existent thumbnail, her mind on Aaron. He’d been conscious when the paramedics got there, but his eyes looked unfocused. What if he went into a coma? The EMT asked him questions to keep him talking and awake. Aaron had said that besides his mom, JD was his next of kin. The two were cousins. That meant Aaron was part of the Family.

  She’d silently watched as the paramedics bound Aaron to a board and loaded him into the ambulance. Seeing him take on all those men for a girl he didn’t know made Maeve realize she had more than a casual interest in him. At some point over the last few weeks Maeve had fallen for Aaron. She’d dialed her cell without thinking, numb from the realization that she would lose him. And soon. Not in some distant future after she’d had time to prepare.

  When Nathalia answered, Maeve told her that Aaron was of the Family. Nathalia got Margaux on the three-way call and let Maeve tell her. Margaux argued that their records did not indicate Aaron was from a female branch but that she would send someone out immediately to investigate. When Maeve asked her what she meant about female branch, Margaux had answered that the Family gene was passed on through the female carriers, but the “blessing” ended at every male branch. Her businesslike manner said she didn’t know that every word was a dagger to Maeve’s heart. After Margaux disconnected, Maeve told her Abbess everything that had happened that night. She left out her realization that she loved Aaron.

  Her hand dropped from her mouth to her lap. Maeve could not escape her duty, not even for a little while longer. A man of the Family must be matched in search of the union that would fulfill the prophesy. And she’d have to be the one to do it. There was no one else. Sara wasn’t ready; she’d proven that with Lucas.

  Maeve didn’t know which would be worse: Aaron matched to a complete stranger or one of her own coven. If it was one of the other witches, Maeve would go down in history as the most important and powerful Vinculum but she’d have to see him every day. If it were a regular woman, Maeve might never see him again. Aaron would just be one in a lifetime of one-night stands. Maybe Maeve would join the Capacitors after it was over.

  “Here you go,” said a woman Maeve vaguely recognized from the front desk as she held out a paper cup. When Maeve didn’t grab it, the woman set it on the desk in front of Maeve and handed Eddie his full mug. “Chief,” she said as she exited.

  Maeve stared at the stale black water that passed for coffee in this place. A circle of bubbles spun in the center of the surface. Bubbles popped, reducing the size of the island in that black sea, and Maeve imagined they were her dreams of a semi-normal life with Aaron, bursting one by one.

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Chief Goodwin asked.

  Maeve shook her head but stopped, unsure exactly how he’d framed the question. Was she saying no, she was hurt or no, she wasn’t? She wanted to say whatever it was the Chief needed to hear so that he would release her. Maeve looked up at him.

  He took a wad of stuff out of his desk drawer and piled it next to her cup. Three creamers, five sweeteners. It was charming that he remembered how she took her coffee. She didn’t move to mix it up. Hollow as it felt, her stomach burned and she didn’t think the acidic liquid would help.

  “If you’re not going to drink it, you might as well hold it for warmth,” Eddie implored. He took a sip of his own and blanched. “Ulch…not that I blame you. How hard can it be to drop a bag in a machine and fill it with water?” he asked rhetorically.

  Maeve took the coffee, but her hands didn’t close all the way and the cup slipped. Hot coffee hit her legs and feet, ruining her shoes, but she was staring at her hands, noticing for the first time that they were blueish.

  Eddie yelped. “At least you missed the desk.” Tossing her a roll of industrial paper towels that belonged in a bathroom, he said, “Just pile some of those on the spill. Janitorial can mop it tonight.”

  Maeve unwound a length of the brown material and covered the puddle as Eddie went on. “The girl says her name is Christy but she won’t give us her next of kin, or anybody who might come pick her up.” He swigged his coffee and managed to moderate his grimace. “She can’t stay here: she’s terrified that the guys we arrested will see her and think she’s the one who got them here.”

  “I can take her to the shelter,” Maeve offered. Jolie said the girl would be important and useful to the Daughters. They ran a battered women’s shelter on their compound. Normally Maeve would jump at the chance to help a girl in Christy’s situation, with or without the possibility for coven advancement, but now she was having trouble working up enthusiasm for the usual charity.

  “I was hoping you’d say that. The boys are writing up the papers. We’re releasing her into your custody.” Eddie leaned back, studying her. “What were you thinking? You should have called us.”

  “I did.”

  He pressed his lips together, frowning. “Before, not after. You should have let us handle it.”

  “There wasn’t time.” If they had waited, Aaron would be with her now instead of at the hospital. He wouldn’t have gotten beaten up and they wouldn’t know about his connection to the Family. Maeve wouldn’t be losing Aaron. It would only cost Christy a little rape. She silently chastised herself for the harshness of her thoughts and was glad Elle wasn’t around to hear them. What would the coven think of how quickly she wanted to toss aside her vows?

  NATHALIA SWITCHED on all the lights of the battered women’s shelter building and turned the thermostat up to seventy-six degrees. There weren’t currently any other residents so she didn’t worry about noise as she prepared a room for Christy. She rubbed all the smooth surfaces with a disinfecting wipe, and made the bed with fresh linens. Nathalia laid out some clean comfy pajamas in case Christy felt like sleeping and readied the coffee maker in case she didn’t.

  A rumbling engine told her that Maeve had arrived. This building was at the heavily guarded alternative entrance on the north side of the compound, so it couldn’t be anyone else. She rushed out to meet them, pausing a minute. She didn’t recognize the black car until Maeve’s worried face appeared over the convertible top. Nathalia opened the passenger side door.

  Even as the survivor of her own abusive relationship, what Nathalia saw knocked the breath out of her. Men were truly the scourge of humanity. Any person who could hurt a creature as fragile as Christy was no person at all. The bruises stood out against her skin in a rainbow of healing stages. Yellowed older ones that had almost faded away lay underneath dark brownish marks filled with old dead blood. Purple tones denoted two-day old bruises while some marks were red and inflamed, a clear indication that they were new.

  Maeve came around the car to stand beside Nathalia. “Christy?” she said when still the girl hadn’t moved.

  Christy turned slowly to look at them. There weren’t any bruises on her face. The bastard must have liked h
er pretty while he used her. Maeve reached out to help Christy out of the car and the girl shrank back. Nathalia knew that response all too well. Grabbing Maeve’s hand and shaking her head, she pulled them back a step.

  “No one will touch you if you don’t want. This is a safe place,” Nathalia assured her.

  “The safest,” Maeve added.

  The wind howled then, blasting them with winter air. Nathalia put her arms around Maeve, who blew into her own cupped hands. “Come inside where it’s warm. You can decide what to do tomorrow after a nice night’s rest. I will keep watch all night so you can sleep.”

  Christy put one bare foot onto the concrete. Nathalia saw that her inner thighs were more bruise than flesh, the skin there red and raw. The man responsible for this deserved worse than death. She clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth, attempting to contain the rage. Christy might mistake it. Abusers often convinced their victims that they deserved the treatment, even wanted it. Nathalia would have to be very careful. She had her work cut out for her.

  Michael had never hit her. He preferred knives. Nathalia had cuts but never bruises. Even when he choked her, he used a soft strip of material that left no mark. And he never raped her. Maeve said that some of the stuff he did qualified as rape but Nathalia disagreed. She had never been forced to endure the violent penetration that Christy had.

  Christy got out of the car on her own. She followed them inside and down the hall to her room then crawled into bed, still wearing the heavy gray woolen trauma blanket given to her by the police. Nathalia turned off the overhead light and closed the door. Christy obviously was in no condition to talk about what happened to her. They would talk in the morning.

  “I have to go to the hospital.”

  Nathalia’s gaze searched Maeve’s body for signs of injury. “Oh my Goddess, are you hurt?”

  Maeve shook her head. “I sucked in some second-hand pepper spray. But other than that, no. I’m fine. I need to see Aaron.”