Invoked Page 6

  What a contrast to his earlier choice. That had been a big mistake. Now he knew in his bones what was right and good for him. That was Nea. She was his ‘one’, but he was so unworthy. He wasn’t truly alive—only the semblance of life gave him form. She deserved better than him, but still he wanted and desired her. There was no hope for them, but also all the hope in the world if they could only grasp it. She had touched him and roused him from that dark place. If she had achieved that much, then there was the chance for more.

  He let the conjuring of himself fade, the substance of his phantom flesh dissipating. No point in using up his precious store of energy maintaining a form when Nea wasn’t there. It was only for her that he’d bothered. It had been the only way to interact with her without scaring the bejesus out of her.

  As he hovered there, wondering where to go next, he tasted regret. His decisions had been bad; they had cost him dearly. But he was still on this Earth so that must have meant something. There was a path to redemption somewhere. There had to be.

  ***

  Within the hour, Nea was back home and out on the patio on a lounger. A bit of sun had broken through the clouds and she wanted to work on her tan. It was an impossible task as she was stubbornly pale. Luckily, with her talent she wasn’t likely to get sun damage. Except for her freckles. She laughed to herself and rolled up her T-shirt to expose her belly and lay back with a sigh.

  Her thoughts turned to Earl. She liked him, but she couldn’t pinpoint what caused her disquiet. There was something odd about that light read of him. She detected a wall of calm but not much else. Yet she found him physically attractive, his eyes, his lips, and even the sound of his voice. And how he spoke to her in that honest way that connected directly to her heart. He was open without being fully readable. Not like unreadable Drew who gave nothing away, even in his expression.

  She decided if she bumped into him again and he asked her on a date, she’d say yes. And if he didn’t ask, maybe she would ask him out for a coffee. With a smile, she realised that maybe her man drought was broken. If Earl had been a warlock, she’d be a lost woman already.

  Picking up her book, she tried to read, but the words meant nothing because she kept playing back that scene in the park with Earl, her heart skipping a beat when she remembered those words about loneliness and the lake. The wind picked up, smacking small waves against the shore, and a speedboat bounced across the surface, the burr of its engine echoing across the water. With the pages of her book open, she sighed as she drifted off to sleep.

  She wasn’t sure how long it was before a tingle against the house ward sent her lurching from the lounger.

  With her heart thumping, she sent a hail to Gregor. Is that you?

  Then she cursed herself. The ward would not tingle for him. He’d created it. It wasn’t breached. Why was she so jumpy? She stepped back inside the house and crept to the front windows, looking out through the curtains to see who was there. The front yard was empty. No car. She stepped closer and looked sideways, but there was no one at the front door. The ward tingled again. What the hell was going on? This had never happened before.

  She turned and stared at the stairwell. She’d go downstairs and check on the little bedsit there. Gregor should have answered her hail. She chewed her lip; something was definitely wrong.

  Slowly, she took the stairs one by one, her gaze checking on the floor around her and then, as she got low enough, she could see the apartment. The door was closed. Nothing seemed to be touched. She walked into the bedroom and then went to look out the sliding door that provided access to the pier. A scan of the bushes to the left revealed nothing unusual, but to the right she noticed a camellia shrub moving against the wind, pink petals floating to the ground.

  Her heart thumped. Again, the ward tingled.

  Sliding the door quietly open, she slipped out, rotating her head to keep everything in sight. She stepped around the bush and let out a cry.

  ‘Grandpa!’

  Gregor was sprawled in the dirt, blood leaking from a gash in his forehead, and his clothes had singe marks. She inhaled the scent of magic around him. Gregor Royston had been in a magical fight and he’d come off the worse.

  He groaned, and she threw herself down next to him. ‘Is it bad? Should I send for Hilda?’

  ‘No,’ he said in a tight voice. ‘Just help me inside. I’ll be better soon.’

  ‘You think?’

  She squatted down so that he could use her as leverage to get up. Once she had him in a sitting position, the deal got a bit harder. ‘Shouldn’t I call someone to help? One of the councillors maybe?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I’m fine.’ He tried to get up and rocked back on his rear end. ‘You’ll have to give me your hand.’

  Nea got to her feet and tugged until Gregor had enough momentum to stand, then she placed herself under his arm and supported him into the house. She had no idea how she was going to get him up the stairs. ‘Maybe you should lie down here and I’ll go get the first-aid kit.’

  ‘No, no. Take me to my room to lick my wounds.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  It took quite a while to work their way up the stairs. Each step was laboriously conquered. Luckily, Gregor’s bedroom was on the main level, whereas Nea’s room was upstairs. With a groan, he flopped down on the bed, and Nea went scurrying for some hot water, a cloth and some bandages.

  ‘Don’t fuss. I can seal up the cuts later.’

  Annoyed at her efforts being so casually dismissed, she said archly, ‘How come you can’t heal them now?’

  ‘I’m depleted. I’m in shock—not quite there. Need time.’

  Her eyebrows arrowed together. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

  ‘Later. I will.’

  Nea marched off to get her medical supplies. She didn’t care what a kick-up he made, she was treating his injuries whether he liked it or not.

  When she made it back to the room, Gregor was snoring. Gently, she wiped the blood on his forehead and examined the wound. It looked superficial, but she was worried anyway. In all her life, she’d never known Gregor to be defeated. He’d always been this strong magical figure, able to do things she could never dream of. Seeing him like this made her worry, made her feel vulnerable.

  What could possibly have happened to him? It has to be Drew. She was itching for Gregor to tell her about it.

  Once she had him cleaned up, she hailed one of the council members, the second-in-command, Hilda.

  The phone rang instantly, and Hilda was on the other end. ‘You found him in the garden, injured?’ Hilda sounded surprised and perturbed.

  ‘Yes. Can you tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you, aye. It’s up to Gregor to let you in on it.’

  ‘Did you want to come over and check on him?’

  ‘No. He sounds fine to me with you looking after him, but do let me know if he doesn’t pick up after a sleep. Make him lay low for a few days until his energy builds up again. Give him a hearty meal. There you go. That’s it. One of your smashing cook-ups ought to do it.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Nea glared at the phone and hung up. Things were not normally so cloak-and-dagger in their coven.

  She hesitated by the phone, wondering if she should call Jake or her dad and let them know. Her dad, Riley, was up on the Great Barrier Reef, enjoying a holiday with his current girlfriend. No point in spoiling it for them. Jake would likely front up, and then there would be consequences. She turned away from the phone, deciding that Gregor would hate having a fuss made, and probably wouldn’t like the fact he’d come off badly in an altercation known.

  She checked on her grandfather, who was still sleeping, and then tried to interest herself in a half-finished novel sitting on a side table. When that didn’t stick, she went to the computer and surfed the net, having a chuckle over some sites that purported to be teaching spells and magical ceremonies.

  After making herself some supper, she checked
on Gregor, and he appeared to be sleeping normally. She placed a jug of water by his bed, and some fruit in case he woke up hungry during the night.

  Then she went to get ready for bed. The shower was hot and the water pressure was good. She was tempted to stay in there but knew she had to get out sometime. Standing there naked, she gazed longingly at her bed. It looked so inviting. Not much had been achieved that day, but she was tired.

  She checked the windows, stopping to cast a glance to where she’d seen the man’s shadow the night before. There was nothing on the pier, and there was nobody walking along the shore taking in the night air. She had to admit to being a bit disappointed.

  Next, she reset the house wards. Then she remembered she’d left the downstairs sliding door open as she’d been caught up in finding Gregor and treating his injuries.

  With a sigh, she wrapped herself in a robe and went below. Gregor’s snoring could be heard in the corridor as she passed through to take the stairs. He was really spent. He’d better tell her what was going on or she was going to be hopping mad, council business or not.

  The sliding door was open, the night breeze kicking up the curtain. Hurrying over, she went to shut it and paused. The bushes rustled more vigorously than the wind could account for. She squinted into the dark. Goosebumps rose on the skin of her arms. She ranged out with her senses. There was a ward, she shouldn’t have to worry about intruders, and yet there was something there, something or someone watching her.

  Pulling herself inside, Nea slid the door shut and locked it. Someone was playing a sick game and she wasn’t going to join in.

  Stamping her way up the stairs, she threw open her door and tore off her robe. Using her talent, she flung the covers off and slid onto the bed, then she flicked the lights off with a blink and found herself stewing in the darkness. It wasn’t really the right mindset for going to sleep, but she rolled over and shut her eyes anyway.

  Sometime in the night, the window rattled. In a daze, she got up to close it, and found it already shut. Her eyes caught some movement. There was nothing outside, yet there was a brush of something down her bare back. Her spine arched, her breath sucked in, and then she whirled around. ‘Who is it?’

  She flicked the light switch with her power, but it didn’t come on. A sensation brushed against the skin of her shoulder, like a cool breath. Again, she whirled around, but could see nothing. ‘Whoever you are this isn’t funny.’

  A vibration reached her, soothing her nerves. It meant no harm, whatever it was. That was the message she got. It definitely wasn’t Drew Penderton or a conjuring of his.

  She tried for the lights again and still nothing.

  ‘I don’t like this. Go away.’

  The presence withdrew, but she wasn’t alone. Air moved around her. Whatever it was it had some kind of form. Her mind yelled that it was a ghost, a friendly one, but her reading suggested something more tangible. She didn’t know, and as it stayed away from her for the moment she could relax. Tentatively, she sent a hail to Gregor, just a little one to see if he was conscious, but there was nothing. He was out of it. She was on her own.

  Her nipples contracted to hard points. She gasped as she felt a mouth close over one, but it wasn’t a mouth. It wasn’t warm and wet, yet there was pressure.

  She backed away, not sure who or what she was backing away from. The thought crossed her mind that this was a figment of her frustrated imagination. A very interesting figment, certainly. Hadn’t she been wishing for intimacy, for sex? Her breathing reverberated in the room, seeming loud to her panicked ears.

  That vibration again, signalling the presence was there, was close. The vibration soothed her fears. It meant no harm; it liked her, and wanted to be close to her. It wasn’t quite a reading, but it was something else.

  In the darkness, she couldn’t work out where she was walking, but she was backing up. The backs of her knees hit the mattress and she collapsed on the bed.

  Staring at the darkness, she wondered how she was going to explain this and hoped that she never had to. Perhaps it had been a dream. Then, a phantom mouth glanced against her mons and a ghostly tongue lapped against her labia.

  Goddess! A shudder ran up her spine. Her body responded to her phantom lover.

  That mouth pressed there again, harder.

  ‘Stop. Please.’ She eased up on her elbows, panting heavily. The presence withdrew from her. For that she was grateful, because it allowed her time to think, to assess and to push away the raw need that had been nagging at her for weeks now—the need to be touched and to be loved and to be held. Now this thing, this presence, tempted her at her weakest point.

  ‘Who are you? Please tell me.’

  She got a sense of agreement, then the scene around her changed. She wasn’t in her bedroom; she was on the lakeshore and it was the afternoon. Yellow sun glinted off the water. She had a dress on, an old-fashioned thing. What?

  A man walked towards her, dark hair curling around his forehead, slightly long on his collar. It was Earl, the man she’d been meeting the last two days.

  She watched him approach, thinking his large eyes were dark brown until he stepped up close. Then in the light she saw they were hazel, green, yellow and brown mixed together. His mouth was full and dark red, entirely kissable. His nose gently curved, giving him a regal air. Was this a fantasy?

  Nea looked around. Not fantasy. Not her fantasy, at least. It wasn’t real. She was in her bedroom. This was a conjuring. With her talent, she tested the edges of it. It was a good conjuring. It had substance. Whoever had made it was gifted and strong.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said as he stood in front of her. ‘It’s a conjuring. I made it so we could talk.’

  ‘Talk? What are you, Earl?’ She picked up those calming vibrations she’d sensed in her room.

  ‘I’m me.’

  ‘And that is …?’

  ‘I wanted to thank you.’

  Nea chewed her lip. ‘Thank me?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and he smiled, and it transformed his face into charm itself. He didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘You are very beautiful. A beautiful spirit with a sweet face. I knew it the moment we met.’

  She backed up a step. ‘Earl. We’ve only just met, briefly.’

  Her gaze took in his form—broad shoulders, the firm arms. He was wearing a shirt and trousers. If she’d been out with friends for a drink and had come across him, she’d be fanning herself.

  ‘Yes. But before that. Don’t you remember? You woke me.’

  She closed her eyes, wanting to block the image of him out. It was messing with her head. ‘You’re that thing I touched in the ruin. In that place of dread and death. A ghost?’

  ‘I’m not a ghost. Not entirely.’ There was a lift to his lips, an almost-smile that reached in and hooked her. Bedroom eyes, a kiss-me mouth, and a fuck-me-all-night body. This had to be her own imagination.

  That hint of a smile blossomed. He lifted a hand and moved some hair off her face. ‘This is what I used to look like.’

  She didn’t react, didn’t object. It seemed such a natural thing for him to do. ‘What are you then?’

  ‘I’m not dead. Perhaps I should be. I was a warlock; now I’m less than I was.’

  She spread her hands, indicating her surroundings. ‘This isn’t real. You’re not real.’

  ‘I am real but … I’m not flesh. Not anymore.’ He smiled at her, the light in his eyes telling her he liked what he saw.

  Great. I found a warlock but he’s not flesh, not a ghost, and not quite alive. Just my luck. The undead man of my dreams.

  ‘But you like me all the same.’

  ‘How did you …?’

  His arms went around her. He’d heard her thoughts. That wasn’t fair. ‘Let me go.’

  He stepped away. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impose. I could feel your want from outside. We have a …’ He shrugged and then grinned. ‘A connection.’

  Had he really heard all her thoughts? G
oddess! She coughed and looked down at her feet. They were bare, which was at odds with the dress. As she looked on, red sandals formed.

  ‘That’s a neat trick.’

  His dark eyebrows drew together. ‘I thought you wanted intimacy.’

  She blinked at him. ‘I do, but I … er … well … part of that is getting to know you.’

  He looked up and the sky was suddenly night, and they stood under a lamp by the lake’s edge. ‘That’s why I conjured this, so we could get to know each other so you would feel safe. I won’t hurt you.’

  ‘I appreciate that, but I was looking for a more conventional relationship. Like with a living, breathing warlock with the possibility of a home, family …’

  His eyes widened fractionally. ‘I’m sorry. This is the best I can do for now.’

  A wave of hurt washed over her and she was sorry for her words. Then she could read him in a rush—the pain, the suffering swamped her and she had to back pedal, had to withdraw. Had to stop reading him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice warm and vibrant. ‘I didn’t mean for you to see. I forgot for a moment you’re a reader.’

  Nea struggled for speech, she was so overwhelmed.

  He backed away from her. ‘I’ll leave you alone.’

  The image that he’d constructed began to curl at the edges as if burnt by flame. ‘Wait,’ she said, gasping. She brought her own emotions under control. ‘I don’t want you to go yet. Talk to me some more.’

  His suffering called to her. It was a pain beyond her imagining. It hooked her empathy and told her there was more there: depth and love and intelligence.

  The image stabilised. He was back in front of her, his dark gaze travelling over her skin, eating her up. ‘You’re a goddess, not only of this lake, but of my heart.’

  Her eyelids fluttered. ‘Earl,’ she began.

  ‘Part of you is in me. When you touched me with your essence you left part of yourself there. I feel as if I know you, as if I’m drawn to join with you so what you left behind can be whole again.’