Cold Hard Magic (4 page)

He took her hand and held it. Then remembered he was supposed to shake it. “Oh sure, you are Professor Wallenstein’s daughter." He released her hand. "I can see that now.”

A wan smile pulled at her lips and she sent him a half shrug. “Uh huh.” Her eyes quickly dropped from his and she glanced around the mall, mercilessly torturing her lower lip with her teeth.

“I hope I wasn’t rude the other night," he said, unmindful of the silence that had fallen between them. "It’s just I got this thought in my head and I was trying to get it settled. Do you ever feel that way?”

“Sometimes," she answered after several seconds. Her eyes closed and she shook her head as if scolding herself. After a sigh, her eyes opened and her smile reached her eyes this time. "You weren’t rude, though. You just caught us at an off moment.”

Rob took a relieved sip from his drink. “Say, can I get you a smoothie?" He lifted his cup. "Real tasty if you aren’t familiar.”

She looked at his cup thoughtfully.

"I'd recommend the tropical."

She nodded.

It didn’t take him long to get her a smoothie. He sat back down next to her and waited while she sipped.

"Pretty good, eh?"

She smiled and nodded, taking another sip. They sat in companionable silence for several minutes. It was quite nice, actually. Or so he thought.

“So was that a coven you had there? With your mother and friends?” he suddenly asked.

Nancy looked startled for a minute, then nodded. She studied him as she sipped her drink.

"That's nice," he said.

“So," she looked at him expectantly, "you aren’t troubled by that?” She waited a heartbeat then continued. “Most folks are, you know. Particularly around here.”

“No, why would it bother me?” He turned to look at her, his face scrunched in confusion.

"Well," she started, then couldn't think of anything to say so she just focused on her straw.

They sat in silence again, but this time it was a bit strained as Rob struggled to think of something to say.

“So what do you do Nancy?” he finally asked.

“I’m an actress in Hollywood,” she blurted, each word bursting from her mouth like a rapid fire machine gun. She cringed, then smiled awkwardly.

“You don’t say.” Rob was impressed. "I've never met someone from Hollywood," he told her. "What's it like?"

“Well, I'm actually a waitress right now," she admitted, "but I’ve got this feeling it’s coming along.”

“Oh sure,” he agreed, nodding amicably.

She looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes, waiting for him to say more. So he did.

“It’s important to keep a positive frame of mind without regard to any bleak future your inner mind may think of.”

Her eyes widened and mouth dropped open. It wasn't what she had expected. She gave her head a sharp shake and snapped her mouth shut.

"Yes!" She exhaled sharply. "Exactly. I keep saying that but no one seems to listen." She turned to him, her eyes bright with glee. "Thank you."

“True words," he replied with a nod. "The power of positive thinking and power words. I'm a firm believer."

They sat in silence again.

"So, what brings you back here, visiting family then?”

“A family friend died.” Nancy lowered her voice and leaned forward. “Ethel Rumhilde was a family
friend
, if you know what I mean.”

Rob's eyes widened, then clouded with sympathy. “That’s awful. How are you all holding up?”

“Not so good," Nancy replied. "Ethel was such sweet dear. She'd never hurt anyone.” She looked up at Rob. "We strict about following the code,
An it harm none.
"

"Of course," Rob nodded. "Never thought it otherwise."

Nancy smiled. "You're so different."

Rob's smiled faltered.

"No, no" she said hurriedly, lightly touching his arm. "I mean the good different. Most people just scoff and ridicule, but you…"

He looked down at her hand on his arm. Nancy blushed and lifted her hand, but he grabbed it gently. Holding it like he had wanted to do from the moment he saw her again.

"Why do you believe?" she asked.

He laced his fingers with hers. "Well, the world is full of amazing, mysterious things." He shrugged. "How can you not believe?

"Take your coven, for instance. I'm sure you've done amazing things together."

Nancy sighed. "Mom is really the talented one. I just seem to not do much of anything. I think she's a bit disappointed the talent didn't carry through to me."

"Maybe you've just haven't found a way to focus your inner eye, yet." He shifted a little closer to her. "Your aura—"

"You read auras?"

"Well, no," he said. "But I had a lovely chat with Patricia Portridge from Wisconsin when she was reading my aura in Sioux City. Now, she admitted she hadn't always been able to read auras. She was very forthcoming about that, but after her sister dared her to go bungee jumping at the state fair, she said things suddenly became crystal clear to her. She started seeing lights everywhere."

Nancy bit her lip. "She probably got her brains scrambled from the jump. Some of those activities have been known to be loosey goosey at some fairs."

"Or maybe," he pointed out, "that jump opened a gateway that had been closed before."

"But then everyone who has ever bungee jumped would be able to read auras."

"Who's to say they couldn’t," he said. "At least for a short amount of time? But if they ignored what was right in front of them, then it's easy to imagine what they're seeing is something completely different."

Her eyes crossed slightly as she considered his brilliant — if he must say so, himself — point. He thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

"Want to try bungee jumping?" he asked.

Her eyes focused sharply on his for a heartbeat or two. Then she let out a loud bark of a laugh. Her eyes widened and her fist immediately covered her mouth. He thought was adorable. And he was definitely smitten.

Her cheeks went from tomato red to cotton candy pink.

"I don't think I'm ready to have my gateway opened by potential death," she said, her lips tilting upwards. Her hand tightened her grip in his. "What did Patricia say about your aura?"

Rob took a deep breath. "Well, she did say there was a lot of light purples which just means I'm refining my spiritual self."

Nancy nodded and moved closer to him. Her dark denimed knee was now touching his and he forgot what else he was going to say.

"Anything else?"

Rob blinked. "Oh," a low chuckle escaped his lips, "yeah. She saw some bright yellows which relates to success and some green which is potential for injury." His brow furrowed.

"What type of injury?"

Rob shrugged. "She didn't say."

"How long was that interpretation good for?"

"Hmmm," Rob paused, "I think she said about a year."

"You haven't been injured since then?" Nancy asked. He shook his head. "When is the year up?"

"The year is up on the thirteenth."

"That's tomorrow!" she said. "See, you have nothing to worry about." She used her free hand to pat his shoulder.

They sat in silence, holding hands and watching people move about their lives.

"I can read palms," Rob said out of the blue.

Nancy turned, her eyes sparkling. "Really? Do me." Her cheeks bloomed a bright pink again. "Ummm."

A lopsided smile tilted his lips. He loosened his grip on her hand and brought it to closer to his eyes.

“Let’s see," he started. "Always use the left hand because that's the closest to the heart. Now, see this line?" He traced a sharp indentation on her palm. "This looks good. I can see a long life."

"Why is there a break in it?" she asked.

"Have you ever been in a bad accident?" He asked. She shook her head. "Ever thought your life was in peril?" She shook her head again. "Hmmm, usually a break means a suspension of life—"

"Death?" she squeaked.

"No, no," he said hurriedly. "More like a fork in the road. Something significant that will be important in your life. But see? It continues just fine.

"Now, this here," he pointed to another line, "shows that you're sort of a happy person.”

Nancy nodded in agreement.

“Here’s something interesting," he paused as he studied her hand. "I see a barn.”

Nance stopped nodding. “In my future?”

“Or past.” Rob peered closer. “Did you grow up on a place with a barn?”

“Nope.”

“Been in a barn lately?”

“No.”

“Barns have some specific meaning to you?”

“No.” Nancy suddenly perked up. “But I passed one on the way over here!”

“Well there you go!” Pleased, Rob smiled and let go of her hand. He looked down as she folded her hands across her lap and realized he really liked it better when he was holding it.

"Would you like to get an early dinner?" he asked. "Sampson's has an early bird that can't be beat." He looked at her hopefully.

"We just had smoothies," she pointed out. "I'm kinda full."

"Right," Rob agreed. He tried to think of something else that could extend their time together. Movies were out. The only thing playing in the mall was a stupid movie about sparkling zombies. As if real zombies would sparkle.

"What about sweet bread?" she asked. "I always have room for gooey sweet bread. How about you?"

"I love sweet bread," he said.

"Well, let's go then," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. "My treat since you got the smoothie."

Rob entered the Hendersen’s bedroom, quietly shadowed by the nervous, older couple. The room was tidy and well kept. Like the rest of their house. Clearly, this was a couple that valued taking care of their belongings.

Rob pointed at the closet door. “So that door was ajar?”

Joan Henderson nodded while her husband of twenty-five years, Carl, looked on. “We didn’t open it," she said. "We rarely do this time of year. After I pack things up in August, I only go back in there the last weekend of April to start getting things back out for summer.” She wrung her hands nervously.

Rob nodded and flipped open a small notepad. He jotted down a few notes. "And that's your ritual every year?"

She bobbed her head enthusiastically. "Like clockwork. I'm a stickler for routines."

Rob squatted in front of the door and examined the hinges. His nose twitched at a sharp and vaguely familiar smell. “Is there anything special about the contents of —?”

"Nope," Carl piped in before Rob finished. “No. Not at all. Just clothes and the like.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking around the room to avoid any eye contact.

Rob scratched his head and got up slowly. “The hinges look solid." He tested the door several times to prove his point. "The lock is clasping. You think a poltergeist is responsible?”

Joan became animated at the word poltergeist. "I knew you'd agree with me!" She turned and smacked Carl. "See! I told you I was right!"

Carl rubbed his arm. The half scowl darkened his face but he looked relieved.

“See, we aren’t the original owners of this house," Joan said. "The previous owner’s, well," she shrugged, "they seemed like a nice couple at the time. But you can never tell with people. Not for sure anyway. Right, Carl?"

He nodded with the practiced ease of years of marriage.

"They had kids," Joan continued. "Teenagers," she said, her nose pinching in distaste. "You never know what sort of satanic rituals those hoodlums were up to."

"Rituals?" Rob asked his interest piqued. "You saw signs of Satanism?"

Joan's lips tightened into a thin line. "Well," she shifted her weight and crossed her arms, "no, not at the time, but I've always had this feeling."

"How long have you lived here?"

"Ten years," Joan answered.

"And you've always had this issue?"

"No," Joan said, her brow furrowing. She turned to Carl. "You stopped smoking about two years ago, right?"

"Sounds about right," Carl said, tucking his hands in the pockets of his pants.

Joan's eyes narrowed and she gasped. Carl blanched.

She turned to Rob. "You don't think that awful smoke smell kept the poltergeist away, do you?"

"Well, ummm," Rob hedged and scratched his head, "it's possible."