Page 59 of The Water Witch (Fairwick Chronicles 2)

TWENTY-TWO

Is something wrong?” Bill asked.

He was still crouched beside me, brow furrowed, a look of concern in his kind brown eyes.What a nice guy, I thought, immediately followed byI have to get rid of him. Liz had said to stay away from Duncan but I had a better idea.

“No, it’s just…that was my…um, advisor. He needs to speak to me about a project.”

“Your advisor? Is that the guy who was here before…the one with the messy hair? Sort of snooty-looking?”

I laughed at Bill’s description of Duncan Laird. “That’s him. He’s…Scottish,” I added, as if that explained the snooty look. “But yeah, he said this was important…so I’m afraid…”

“Oh, I see.” Bill got to his feet. “You want me to clear out.”

“It’s just that I’m afraid we’ll be in your way…” I stood up, too, and put my hand on Bill’s elbow. Then took it off again when I felt another jolt of raw heat and desire. “I really do appreciate how hard you’ve been working on the house. Ican’t thank you enough,” I said, my embarrassment making the words come out stilted and formal.

“You don’t have to thank me at all, Ms. McFay,” he said stiffly, picking up on my tone. “It’s my job. Shall I come back first thing in the morning…or maybe not quitefirstthing?”

I bristled at the implication that I might have company that early. “First thing will be fine, Bill,” I replied, matching his formality.

He nodded, put on his baseball cap, and turned to go. I bit my lip to keep from calling him back to apologize for kicking him out. I waited until I heard the front door close and then watched him drive away in his truck. I felt rotten about going all “lady of the manor” on him, but I didn’t want an audience for what I had planned.

I’d lay a trap for Duncan and find out for sure if he was the incubus. It bothered me that I couldn’t tell. If we were true lovers, as Liam had said in my dream, shouldn’t I have swooned in his arms? I certainly shouldn’t be falling into my handyman’s arms.

I headed for the bath off my bedroom to take a quick shower before Duncan arrived. I needed to look my best. Shucking off jeans and T-shirt in my closet I heard a clink as my jeans hit the floor. The Aelvestone rolled out of my pocket. I knelt down and picked it up. It pulsed in my hand like something alive. I’d already absorbed too much Aelvesgold from the spell circle, but I couldn’t resist closing my hand around it.

A wave of warmth swept through my body and buckled my knees. I sank to the closet floor, my back cushioned by a soft quilted suitcase that held winter sweaters and scarves. I let my head sink back onto the bag, the smell of wool and lavenderbringing back memories of being little and hiding in my mother’s closet.

I was five or six, small enough that I could fit in the space between suitcases. There were lots of suitcases because we were always going places. That’s because my mother and father went to faraway places to dig things up—wonderful treasure they sometimes brought back for me, like brightly colored beads and globby coins with smushed-in faces. Sometimes I went with them but sometimes they left me with Grandmother. I didn’t like that. Grandmother always looked at me as if I might be about to explode all over her white couch, which made me feel like I might throw up. She never touched me. This was supposed to be one of those times when they left me. The car to take me away was outside waiting, but if they couldn’t find me then maybe they would send it away and I could go with them instead. I heard them calling my name, making a game of it like they always did, my daddy calling “Kay” and my mommy calling “Lex,” but then they stopped right in the middle of my name and I heard my father say, “I hate her going there as much as she does. One of these times Adelaide is going to notice …?”

“There’s nothing to notice. She’s been warded.”

“That’s another thing. That can’t be good for her, having all those locks and binds on her spirit. It’s like she’s been caged up. Sometimes, Katy, I swear she looks at me like she’s lost. What if she has gotten lost? What if she’s lost now…”

I heard my father’s voice crack, and I couldn’t hide anymore, even if it meant going to my grandmother’s.

“Here I am!” I cried. “I’m not lost…”

“I’m not lost, I’m not lost…” I woke in the closet, murmuring the words to myself. The Aelvestone lay on the floor by my side. How long had I held it? It had taken me into somekind of fugue state. Into some part of my past…my mother saying I had been warded. My parents had known about the wards on me!

I picked up the stone. It throbbed against my hand like a trapped animal.Like she’s been caged up…My father had sounded scared. As if I might be in danger. Then why hadn’t they removed the wards? I shoved the stone into the suitcase with my winter sweaters.

In the bathroom I looked longingly at my deep claw-foot tub, but I didn’t think it was a good idea to surround myself with that much water.

She’s been warded…I heard my mother’s words again as I stepped into the shower. Strange. I had very few memories from my childhood of my parents beyond the stories they read me at bedtime. That had been the time I’d loved best, nestled between them in bed, their voices alternating as they took turns telling stories about fairies, princesses, wizards, and magic…

She’s been warded…

It’s like she’s been caged up…like she’s lost…

My parents’ words seemed to float on the steam that writhed around me. Feeling skittish, I didn’t linger. I toweled off and then put on a rose-scented skin lotion that Liam had liked and a slinky blue jersey dress that he had loved. When I put it on—for the first time since he’d left—I could almost feel his hands on me. Catching my eye in the mirror I asked myself what I would do if Duncan were the incubus. Would I really send him back to Faerie?

I looked away and slipped the emerald-and-diamond ring Liam had given me onto my right ring finger. Then I went downstairs and straightened the library, plumping the couch cushions and picking up several books from the floor that Ralph, who had taken to hiding in the bookcases lately, hadknocked over. I picked up Fraser’sDemonology, which had fallen open at a woodcut of a winged creature with nasty claws that made me shudder, and reshelved it. Then I picked up Wheelock’sSpellcraftfrom the coffee table and turned to the chapter “Magical Disguises and How to Uncover Them.” It was divided into three sections (Wheelock, and all witches, I was discovering, had a thing for threes): a) Disguises for Self-Protection; b) Disguises for Sexual Uses; and c) Wards.

Wards? I hadn’t realized they could be used as disguises.

I read on.

It is this author’s belief that sometimes it may be necessary to hide one’s true identity to survive an attack from an enemy. Therefore the wards of disguise are included here to be used as a means of protection in life-threatening situations only. The author disavows responsibility for any other uses. If these terms are agreeable, please depress the author indemnity icon below.

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