Aurora ducked her head to miss the wind chimes that hung from every possible place on the front porch and kept the house sounding like an ice-waterfall all the time, and headed through the front door.
Aunt Flora looked up from where she'd been concentrating hard on two pink candles with heart shapes carved into their bases and rose petals scattered around them. And her athame was still in her hand.
"Sorry," Aurora whispered, pausing in her tracks. "Am I interrupting a ritual?"
"No!" Aunt Flora said, too quickly. Almost as if she had something to hide.
"Now, Auntie, it looks like a love spell to me." Aurora crooked a brow. "Hey, you aren't trying to conjure up some prince to come steal you away from us, are you?"
"Of course not, dear! Why, I would never. Oh, no, absolutely not, darling." She cleared her throat, muttered a quick, "As I will it, so mote it be," half under her breath, and snuffed her candles.
Aurora got a little queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, one that told her she was being kept in the dark about something. Before she could question Aunt Flora, however, Aunt Fauna came in from the back door, a basketful of freshly cut herbs and various roots over her arm. "Ohhh, you're home!" she exclaimed. "Merriwether, she's home!"
Aunt Merri's steps came from the second floor as she hurried to the top of the stairs. "Wait until you see what I bought you today, Aurora!" She waved the little box she held in her hand as she trotted down the stairs. Aurora winced, and quickly sent a protective wish out to her, to keep her from falling and breaking something. "I saw it and I just knew—''
"Oh, wait until you see it!"
"You'll never take it off!"
Her aunts were acting decidedly suspicious tonight. Aurora's warning bells were going off. Of course, she loved them with every cell in her body, and knew they'd never dream of harming her. But meddling was certainly not beyond them.
"Thank you, Aunt Merri," she said, taking the box warily and opening the lid. "Oh, my. That is beautiful." Aurora lifted the necklace from the box—a gold chain with a rose quartz stone suspended from it, and the Runic symbol for love etched onto the surface. "But, Aunt Merri, why this particular stone?"
"It spoke to me," Merri said. "Just felt right, you know. One of those impulse buys."
Aurora frowned. "You've never done anything impulsive in your live, Aunt Merri. Now why don't you girls tell me just what's going on here? Hmm?"
They all shook their heads, muttering denials, and averting their eyes. Aurora's sense of foreboding grew stronger.
"Tell us about your day, dear."
"Oh, yes, do! Did you meet anyone interesting today?"
"Anyone new?"
She tilted her head, knew they were changing the subject, and decided to let it slide. For now. "The only new patient wasn't really new. The little brat who used to pick on me when I was younger. He grew into a bigger brat, and a chauvinist pig to boot."
"Why, whoever can you mean?" Flora asked faintly.
"Certainly not that sweet little McBride boy?" Fauna said, as Merri elbowed her in the ribs.
"Now how on earth could you know...?"
"The cards, dear! The cards."
"I didn't know there was a Nathan McBride card in your deck, Aunt Fauna. Unless you're referring to The Fool."
"Oh, dear," Fauna said. "Then you did see the McBride boy today?"
"Only long enough to wish I hadn't," she said. "I swear I've never known a bigger jerk in my life. Demanded a male doctor. Of all the nerve..."
"Don't be too hard on him, Aurora," Aunt Merriwether advised. "Maybe he was just embarrassed."
"Or shy," Flora put in.
"Or nervous," Fauna added.
"Or an idiot," Aurora declared. "If I ever see him again, I think I'll... What? Why are you all looking at me like that?"
"Like what, dear?"
"Like you've done something I'm going to hate, is like what"
"Well... well, you see, we were under the impression that..." Fauna began.
"That you and Nathan McBride were old friends," Flora finished for her.
"So when his father called to say he'd heard you were back in town, and to ask how you were doing..." Merri's voice faltered. "We...well, that is, we..."
"You what?"
Merri swallowed, lifted her chin, and said with authority, "Invited him to dinner."
"Nathan and his father, that is," Fauna added quickly. "You know, his father, Daniel, he's always been kind to us. Always willing to order even the most obscure herbs, if we asked, and never once pried into what we could want with them."
"He's retired now, you know. Turned the drugstore chain over to Nathan," Flora said.
"Chain?" When Aurora had left, there had only been a handful of small drugstores.
"It's a rather impressive chain of pharmacies now, dear," Aunt Merri clarified. "Nathan has a head for business. And you mustn't be upset about this dinner. We just thought it would be nice to..."
"To be sociable," Fauna finished. Then she sighed and wiped her neon hair from her brow as if exhausted.
"When?"
"Why, tomorrow night, dear."
"Fine. I just won't be here then. I'll make something up and..."
"Oh, no you won't," Merri said, and for once her voice sounded a bit harsh, and even a little disapproving. "That would be not only deceitful, but rude, and we've raised you better than that."
"Oh, that we have," said the usually timid and soft-spoken Flora, shaking a forefinger. "'Ever mind the Rule of Three. Three times what thou givest, returns to thee.'"
Aurora pressed her fingertips to her temples and closed her eyes. "All right, all right. I'll suffer through dinner with the idiot. But if you expect me to enjoy it, you'd better think again."
"Oh, darling, that's better. And of course you'll enjoy it. I'm sure Nathan's become a wonderful man." Merri smiled.
"No one's at his best when he ends up in an emergency room," Flora said sympathetically.
"You might be very pleasantly surprised, dear," Fauna put in.
"I'll be surprised if he has the nerve to show up," she retorted; then she made her way upstairs to her own suite of rooms to sit and ponder the possible reasons for such a terrible scourge appearing in her life right now, just when everything had been going so smoothly.
#
The place scared the living hell out of him.
First, it was old, and creepier than even he remembered. Then again, he'd never come all the way inside before. And the house was older now than it had been last time he'd come over here. But only by a decade.
It was Gothic in style, with tall narrow windows so ancient that the glass was thicker at the bottom of the panes than at the top. The house had been freshly painted, sure, and kept in good repair. But a weed patch that his father assured him was an herb garden took up half of the side lawn, and a dense flower garden, with a path that led to its center and enough trees and shrubs to keep that center hidden, took up most of the back. He'd always wondered what was hiding inside the depths of that garden. Then there were those wall-to-wall wind chimes lining the front porch, tinkling constantly. The place gave him the chills. He kept expecting bats to come flying out of a dormer window.
His dad had come down with a mysterious, hacking cough just before it was time to leave, and insisted it was probably his allergies acting up. He'd said Nathan had to go or the three old ladies would be insulted, and goodness only knew what would happen then.
Nathan didn't particularly want to think about what would happen then. He grinned self-consciously and reminded himself that he didn't believe in that stuff.
He rang the doorbell and it chimed with a deep and resonant tone, then grinned harder as he imagined Lurch coming to answer it. But instead a tall, regal woman with steel-gray hair and piercing black eyes opened the door, and Nathan's smile died. "Hello, Nathan," she greeted him. "You probably don't remember me. I'm Merriwether. Do come in."
"Hello, Nathan," said another voice, this one coming from a body no bigger than a minute. She was four-eleven if he'd ever seen it, and weighed perhaps ninety pounds dripping wet. She had hair as soft and white as cotton, and the face of everybody's cookie-baking grandma. "It's so good to see you again, young man. I'm Flora, remember?"
"And I'm Fauna," called another, this one short as well, but as round as a pumpkin and with hair about the same color. This one he remembered.
"Good to see you again," he managed. "I'm sorry my father couldn't make it. He said to tell you how badly he feels for missing this." As he spoke and listened to their pat replies about being sorry that his father couldn't make it, Nathan looked past them. But she was nowhere in sight. There was plenty to look at, though. It smelled fantastic in here, and he spotted the source—incense burning in brass pots that looked Oriental and ancient. There were candles glowing everywhere. Mostly pink and red, he noted, wondering if the colors were significant in any way. Soft music was playing, sounding whimsical and Gaelic to him. Every window had a crystal prism suspended in front of it, and every shelf was lined with other stones—amethyst clusters and giant glittering geodes big enough for a small child to crawl inside. A tiny table sat in the window to the north, and there was a black iron cauldron sitting in its center, and various other items arranged around it: candlesticks, statuettes of mythical figures of some sort, wineglasses, an ornate silver hand mirror.
"And what is it that kept your father away, Nathan?" the tall one—Merriwether—asked.
"I think it's an allergy or something," he said, still distracted, and still searching the place for Aurora, and wondering why he was. He didn't even like her. Didn't even like her type. He liked blue-eyed blondes yes, but he preferred them with more bustline than brain. Not willowy Witches with genius IQs and electric blue eyes that could burn holes through solid rock. He still didn't see her. But there was a round table in the room's center with an elaborately decorated deck of oversized cards on it, and what he thought was a crystal ball in the center. Its base looked like pewter, and was made in the shape of a gnarled, clawed hand, long fingers grasping the crystal ball and holding it up.
A cold chill went up his nape.
"Oh, your father's ill?" tiny Flora asked with concern.
"Yes. Just allergies. Nothing serious. He's..." Nathan's voice trailed off. Aurora appeared at the top of the stairs, and he went utterly still. She was...man, she was mesmerizing. Okay, so maybe he did like intelligent, spooky women. Maybe he'd just never realized it before. She just... she hadn't looked like this at the hospital, in that lab coat with her hair tied back and...
But now...
She came down the stairs in a black dress that hugged her arms from her wrists to her shoulders, dipped to cling to her breasts and her waist, snugged its way over her hips, and then turned into free-flowing rivers of satin that swayed around her legs when she moved. Her hair was long, very long, and gleaming in the candlelight like magic. And her eyes, they were almond shaped and more exotic than ever, lined and shadowed and as blue as polished sapphires.
For the life of him, Nathan couldn't figure out why she would take pains to look this good for a man she disliked as much as she disliked him. Why? He wondered if maybe Bobby Ridgeway was coming over later.
#
Why? For Goddess' sake, why did she go and dress up in her full-moon best for a man she didn't even like?
To punish him, that's why. To show him just what he's missing by brushing me off as too weird or too intelligent, too female or too young for his tastes. Let him see what he's missing and live the rest of his life writhing in agony over his foolish pride back at the hospital. And before, when I was younger, and he shunned me so often.
She told herself it meant nothing, that she had forgotten all about it long ago. But it was a lie. She'd adored him when she'd been a child, and he'd tossed her hero worship back into her face. Well, let him just take a good look now at what he'd rejected back then.
And if that's what she wanted, it was working, because he couldn't seem to take his eyes off her.
"Aurora," he said in a choked voice.
"Hello, Nathan. How is your...elbow?"
"Still pretty sore," he said. "But amazingly enough, everything else seems to be back in working order."
"Who could have guessed?" she asked sweetly.
He lowered his head. "You could. And you did, and I was an idiot. Okay?"
She blinked twice, standing at the bottom of the staircase. "Was that an apology?"
"Maybe," he admitted, coming forward, crossing the room until he stood a foot from her, facing her. "Let's not forget, I wasn't the only one who was obnoxious in that emergency room."
"So, you're expecting an apology from me?"
He let his gaze dip lower, slowly, and brought it up to her eyes again. "I'll tell you what, Aurora. That dress is apology enough for me. What do you say we call it even?" He said it softly, for her ears alone.
She felt her face drain of color. "This dress is no apology to you, Nathan. I wore it because I'm too old to stick out my tongue and thumb my nose at you. But you're obviously too dense to get the message."
"The only message I'm getting from that number, honey, is 'come and get it.' "
"The only message this number is sending out, honey, is 'you can't have it.' "
"Hey, did I say I wanted it?"
"Your pants said it for you." She sent a meaningful glance at the changing shape behind his zipper and lifted her brows, daring him to deny it. "You were right. Everything seems to be back in working order."
It seemed he'd run out of comebacks.
She smirked, but only for a moment. It was when she saw her three aunts grabbing for their coats, and the little emergency totebag they kept near the door, that she felt her smugness turn to panic.
"Where do you three think you're going?" she asked, trying not to sound desperate.
"To see Daniel, dear," Merri announced calmly.
"Nathan's father, Aurora."
"He's ill. It's the least we can do."
"Yes, I have the best remedies for allergies like this," Flora added, running into the hallway where bundles of herbs hung upside-down to dry, and snatching a sprig of this and a pinch of that to take along.
"But...but...Aunt Flora, the man owns his own drugstores!"
Aunt Flora put a hand to her mouth and tittered delicately. "You're such a joker, Aurora. As if a drugstore compares to a Witch when it comes to remedies."
Aurora gave her head a shake. "Well...what about dinner?"
"You'll have to play hostess tonight, dear," Aunt Merri chided. "It's your duty. You do right by our guest, and don't embarrass us."
"Everything's ready, Aurora," Fauna called. "It's all on the warming rack. Just take it out and eat."
"Enjoy!" Flora sang out as she headed through the door.
And that was that.
"Well," Aurora said, hands on her hips. She stared at the door they'd just exited for a long moment, then turned to face Nathan again. "I hate to tell you this, but I think we're being...fixed up."
"I thought my father's cough sounded a little overblown," he said wryly. "He must be in on it with them."
Aurora stared at him, eyes narrowing. "Was this your idea, Nathan?"
"I told you, I like dumb girls who like to have a good time. Glenda the Good Witch is not my style.
She looked at his crotch. "Oh, I can see that.”
"Go ride a broom, why don't you?"
"We don't ride our brooms, you idiot."
"Hey, don't tell me what you do use them for. I don't think my heart can take it."
"I don't think your zipper can."
He sighed, looked at the floor, and shook his head. "Dammit, Aurora, I can't believe I came here thinking I could ask you for help when you're every bit as defensive and touchy as you ever were."
"You try growing up with half the local ignoramuses thinking you're some kind of Satanic nutcase and see how defensive and touchy you—" She blinked and stared at him. "What do you mean, you came here to ask for my help?"
"I never, ever thought you were Satanic."
"I don't even believe in the devil," she told him.
"Well that's a relief. I was beginning to think you thought I was him."
"The way you teased me, back then..." she began. "I thought you were as superstitious and bigoted as the rest of them."
"I was a kid. Kids are idiots sometimes. Hell, Aurora, I teased all my friends." He frowned a little, and tilted his head. "I should have thought harder, though. I guess you took about all the teasing you could handle. My adding to it didn't help a bit, did it?"
"I don't see how anyone could think it would help at all." She blew air through her teeth. "Not that it bothered me in the least."
"Only enough so you're still angry about it."
"Do you want to eat, or what?"
"No. I want to tell you something."
She lifted her head, met his eyes, and thought he looked sincere. "What?"
"I think ...I might have..." He closed his eyes briefly and clenched his jaw. "This is going to sound insane."
Frowning, she scanned his face. "Is this something physical? What do you think you have, Nathan?" The doctor in her was at full alert as she searched his face, mentally noting the healthy color of his skin, and the clarity of his eyes. Brown eyes, velvety brown, with darker stripes. Eyes that were looking into hers right now with...
She blinked and looked away.
He lowered his head. "Yeah, it's physical all right, but not the way you think. I think I might have some kind of curse on me, Aurora. Does that sound crazy?"
She took a step away from him, watching his face, wary of a trick to make her look foolish. "A curse? I didn't think you believed in that sort of thing."
"I don't. Do you?"
"Of course."
"So, did you?"
She frowned up at him. "Did I what?" She opened her eyes wider and lifted her brows. "You want to know if I hexed you, Nathan?"
He only nodded.
She closed her eyes to hide the flash of pain she felt. Unexpected, unreasonable, but real. "I always thought..." Biting her lip, she shook her head and turned away.
"Aurora?" He touched her shoulder, bringing her gently around to face him again. "You always thought what?"
"That you were the only one who wasn't afraid of me, Nathan. The only one who didn't seem to think that being a Witch made me some kind of monster." She shook her head. "I guess I was wrong."
His brows furrowed when she felt the barest hint of moisture burning in her eyes. He leaned closer, staring at it there, as if he couldn't quite believe it.
“For the record, Nathan, I would cut off my hand before I would hurt anyone. I don't even kill spiders, for Goddess' sake."
He looked slightly ashamed. But he offered no apology. "Hell, if you had a Witch who hated your guts living around the corner, combined with the kind of luck I've had lately, you'd probably think—"
"I'd think of asking for some help," she said. She walked past him into the dining room and sat down at the little round table with the crystal ball and the cards. "So what makes you think it's a curse? Maybe the things that have been happening to you are for the best, did you ever think of that? A lot of people think they're having bad luck. Missing planes or appointments or having their cars break down—when in fact, the delays and such are really protecting them from disasters."
"Yeah, well this delay isn't saving me from anything but pleasure."
"Really?" She lifted her brows. "So you really believe it's a curse?"
He came closer, but didn't sit. "The evidence sort of makes it hard not to believe it."
"What evidence?" she asked him.
He sighed and met her eyes. "I can't get laid to save my life."
Aurora bit her lip. She grated her teeth. She held her breath. Nothing worked. She burst out laughing uncontrollably. And she regretted it instantly when his face darkened with furious anger, and he whirled around and slammed out of the house without a backward glance.
Her laughter died slowly as she stared after him. And then she titled her head to one side, frowning. "My Goddess," she whispered. "He was serious." She went after him, called his name out into the night, but he was already slamming his car door and roaring the engine.
She thought about making it stall so she could go and apologize. But messing with his car wasn't a good idea, and it might be considered manipulative magick, not letting him leave when he clearly wanted to. A Witch mustn't mess with another person's free will. No manipulation. Then again, she wasn't supposed to hurt anyone either. And she had a hollow feeling that maybe she just had. Badly.