The Magic's in the Music (Magic Series Book 5) (25 page)

“Pretty much sucks for both of us.”

“You leave the compound,” she accused. “And they know you have the gene. Why haven’t they killed you?”

“I figure they’ll get around to it in their own good time. Maybe they’re making my family suffer with worry.” That made him feel like shit.

“Why do you do it? If they’re just waiting to kill you, I mean?”

“I…I guess I don’t like not having any control over my life any better than you do. I’ve had longer to live with this shit. So I kinda dare them to do something. Stupid, I know.”

“Yeah, this whole thing is stupid.” She set her jaw. She was really beautiful when she was being stubborn. “It must be nonsense.”

Okay, that was kind of desperate. “Come on. I didn’t mean it isn’t true. You know it’s true. And if you don’t, I’ll start arranging demonstrations. I just mean I don’t like it.”

“So you tempt fate by flaunting yourself where these people can kill you?”

“At least it’s my choice.”

She rolled her eyes. Then her mouth made a rueful curl. “I guess I might feel the same.” She shook her head. “So I’ll have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life, wondering if someone is out to kill me. Why are they out to kill you, by the way?”

“Well, they, uh, want to do different things with their powers then my family does.”

“And what does your family want to do?”

He blew out a breath. “Michael Finds lost children. Drew predicts disasters. Tremaine Enterprises has a disaster relief logistics unit,” he said, as though that explained everything. “It sends supplies and equipment and stuff to earthquakes and tsunamis and fires. That sort of thing. We have some companies that invest in green power: solar, wind. Tris invented an engine that runs on used oil. Won’t ever replace electric or hydrogen, but at least it recycles, and fuel costs bupkas to produce. The money from those things supports the disaster relief. Dev is working on a new desalinization process. That looks promising.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. We support the arts, and Tammy’s got about a dozen animal rescue places she makes the family fund.”

She stared at him.

“It’s not like we’re trying to save the world or anything. Nobody’s sure exactly what saving the world would look like. We do what we can, that’s all.”

“I get it. You’re the white hats. So what do the black hats want?”

“World domination, pretty much.” He saw her look. “I know, I know. Sounds like a summer blockbuster. Arch villains. But they’ve got a weather girl who’s been creating all these monster storms in the last couple of years. They’ve been tinkering with financial markets. They were behind the Great Recession. And that’s only the beginning.” He couldn’t believe himself. He was an unlikely candidate to be a commercial for Family Tremaine. He sounded like he was about to don a superhero suit and ride to the rescue. It’s not like he wanted to join his family’s doomed fight. But he might as well lay the last of it on her. “There are these Talisman things. They represent the four suits of the tarot, which as it happens, was invented by Merlin to help ordinary people think about their lives and predict things. The four Talismans are a Cup, a Sword, a Wand and a Pentacle, whatever that is. He made them to amplify the magic in our genes. They were lost too, of course, but we’ve been trying to find them before the Clan does.”

She nodded like she was listening to a crazy person. “And how you doing with that?”

He looked away. “Not good. They’ve got three. Every time we find one, they take it away. That’s how Senior got hurt last year. Morgan blasted him with the Wand when we were, uh, liberating the Cup from a museum, and Mother couldn’t heal him.”

Greta frowned. She was probably disgusted. If she didn’t think the whole thing was a pack of lies. But she surprised him by saying, “That must be hard for the family. I think he’s a good man. And if he was so skilled at everything and the leader of a big corporation…well, it must be hard to see him struggling.”

Lanyon surprised himself. “Yeah. It is.”

She examined him shrewdly. “He knows. He blames himself for driving you away.”

“He told you that?”

She got a little smile around the corners of her mouth. “Yeah. But I told him he was full of it. You were a bad boy all on your own.”

Wow. She had been having a hell of a conversation with Senior. Lan didn’t even know Senior was capable of that kind of interaction. Guilt washed over him. He really didn’t know much about how his father was getting along at all. He knew he’d been causing his family anxiety, but the impact of his callous behavior hadn’t come home to him until now. He looked down at his bare feet. “Not exactly a shining example of a son.”

“You’re talking to the ultimate example of an ungrateful daughter. Guess I won’t be calling any kettles black.”

He looked up at her. Kee would paint her as an angel right about now. A channel of sunlight leaked through the heavy drapes and set her hair to gleaming gold. Raw deal for her. So he had to let her call the shots.

“I know you don’t even know me. I know this all sucks. All we can do at this point is try to pick up the pieces.”

“No way to undo this genetic thing?” Her voice had grown distant.

He shrugged apologetically. “Not when it’s in your DNA.” Time to make light of a fucked situation, before she started contemplating suicide. “My personal plan was to drink myself into oblivion. Maybe not the best option for you, though.”

She moved out of the channel of light and into the semi-darkness of the room. She didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at the rumpled bed. Lan didn’t dare push her. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen right now. He knew he wanted his life to be different. No genetic destiny. No magic powers. He wanted Senior to be the way he was before the attack. He wanted to be the happy-go-lucky prankster he’d once been. He wished the Clan in hell or worse, if there was anything worse. He actually wished he’d met Greta Falk as just a guy would meet a beautiful woman, wanting to get to know her, feeling a normal amount of attraction for her…

“I need to think about this,” Greta said, finally. Her voice was thoughtful. “It’s too much to take in right now, and anything I decide would probably turn out to be wrong.”

“Should I…should I go for a while, until you figure it out?”

She turned on him. “Right. So I can spend a few days puking my guts out? You are going nowhere, Lanyon Tremaine, until we figure out what to do about this.”

Okaaaaay.

Nothing was decided. But he felt strangely relieved.

‡

Greta had barely
managed to keep out of Lanyon’s bed by escaping his room while he was in the shower. But she wasn’t sure she was ready to face the family who knew what she and Lanyon had been doing, and had ‘ideas’ about them. Like they were some genetic match or something. The story Lan had spun about genetic attraction and magic wanting to come together, and arch villains who would want to kill her, all suddenly seemed so wild she couldn’t believe she’d even entertained it for a second.

But she could feel he was in the shower right now, though she was moving cautiously into the kitchen. Of course she could smell someone cooking onions in olive oil ahead. But that scent was joined by furniture polish from the living room and the peculiar scent of marigolds just visible in a vase in the TV room beyond, and was that the smell of fireplace ash? Not normal. And Brina had healed her bruises. She couldn’t deny that.

She shook her head as if to clear it. So what if she’d looked out at the stars and felt…right with herself after having body-tingling sex with Lan. She always felt good under the stars. Maybe not
that
good, but fainting did not a magic power make. Maybe she’d be some kick-ass astronomer someday or something.

Actually, that didn’t sound half bad.

She peeked into the kitchen, wary. The family seemed to gather there a lot. But it was just Jane and Kee, working to prepare dinner. Jane wore sensible chinos and a pretty flowered blouse under an apron that said, ‘Too many cooks means you.’ Kee wore a wild abstract print dress with a big, flouncy skirt and red-patent flats.

“Hi, Greta,” Kee said.
A little too brightly
, Greta thought. “Come in and sit down.” Kee gestured to the bar that separated the kitchen from the little dining area.

“Want a glass of wine?” Jane asked over her shoulder. She stood at the stove. “You look like you could use some.”

“Uh, yeah, if it isn’t too much trouble.” Greta slid onto a bar stool, one of four.

“Not at all.” Kee moved to one of two giant refrigerators. “I was just going to pour myself one.”

They seemed so…normal.

“Where is everybody?” Greta asked. Not that she wanted to confront more Tremaines.

“Tammy’s down at the stable,” Jane said. “Brina and Brian are upstairs. He takes a nap in the afternoon. Everybody else is over in the office wing, working.”

“What are they working on?”

“They’re looking for an antique relic called a Talisman,” Jane said, as if that wasn’t crazy.

Yeah
, Greta thought.
The things that had come down from Merlin.
Riiiiight.
They were missing the fourth one.

Kee set down a delicate wine glass and poured a healthy draft of white wine. “It’s just us chickens, as Mom says. And you can tell all.”

Greta felt the immediate blush rise to her cheeks. And her neck and her forehead.

“Kee,” Jane admonished. “Don’t embarrass Greta.” She gave a sly smile, which looked out of place on such a sweet face. “Besides, we know already, don’t we?”

“Well, we know they had great, screaming sex,” Kee said philosophically. “That’s part of the deal. But what power did you get?”

They really believed this stuff. Greta was somehow shocked, as though she had expected that Lan’s explanation would evaporate outside the confines of his bedroom.

“I don’t know,” she said, shifting her gaze to the wine glass. She took a convulsive glug. She had to get hold of herself. Sands seemed to be shifting under her feet. “What am I saying? I did not get some magic power because there is no such thing.”

“Too soon,” Jane said. “It will come.”

Greta stared at them. Kee went back to slicing eggplant. Were they making Parmigiano? Probably. So…unremarkable. “You all believe this, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Kee said, looking up in surprise.

“I know it’s hard,” Jane said. “I grew up around it, so it was easier. Drew and I have been friends since we were ten. I’ve known about the family DNA for almost that long.”

“Frankly, I wasn’t sure Lan would have the courage to tell you,” Kee said. “I thought he’d chicken out and make Jane do it.”

Greta gulped more wine. “It’s just so hard to believe…”

“Want a demonstration?” Kee asked enthusiastically. She caught sight of Jane, who obviously didn’t approve. “Don’t be a spoil sport, Jane.”

Jane waved a spoon thick with tomato sauce. “Just leave the kitchen alone, would you? I’m on a schedule.”

“Done.” Kee turned to Greta. “I’ll leave the bar alone, too. But just hold on to the edge there. It’s kind of disorienting.” She took a big breath. “Wait.” She let out the breath. “Pick a painter.”

“Uh…Van Gogh?”

“Okay. I’ll do
The Starry Night
. You know that one, don’t you?” Greta nodded. “Good. I want you to recognize the setting. No fainting or anything.” That was encouraging. Kee took another breath, let it out, and her face went…calm. Greta might not have seen a face so serene except in paintings of the Madonna.

Suddenly the room around her seemed to boil. Colors whirled. Greta was glad she was holding on to the bar. The terrace and the lawns outside the French doors disappeared. So did the windows themselves. She was on a hill. The afternoon sun was gone. A village lay below her. Next to her, a cedar tree pointed to the sky like a waving, black finger. The sky itself had turned to indigo with blue waves and swirling comets in bright yellow. It wasn’t something she was looking at—it was something she was inside. The world was streaked and pulsing with color. If it hadn’t been for the bar under her hands and the kitchen in which Jane moved so prosaically right next to the nightmare world, she would have been totally disoriented. What was she saying? She
was
totally disoriented. Half of existence had been replaced by a Van Gogh painting.

The room snapped back to normal.

Greta was left gasping. “My God!”

“That’s what I got,” Kee said, back to slicing eggplant. “Used it against the Clan a couple times. Jackson Pollack and M.C. Escher are especially effective.”

“That’s a p-power?” Greta was shaking.

“Take another sip of your wine, dear,” Jane advised.

“Jane, show her yours,” Kee ordered.

“I’m busy.”

“Jane,” Kee said seriously. “She needs to believe it.”

“Oh, all right.” Jane rubbed her hands on her apron. “Now, I don’t want to shock you. Unlike some I could name.” Here she gave Kee a pointed look. “So, it’s going to get dark for a minute. Kind of more than dark.”

“Black-hole dark,” Kee elaborated. “But very cool.”

“Are you ready?” Jane asked.