Enchantment Emporium Page 36

  Son of bitch.

  He’d chosen.

  “So it’s like that, is it?” Auntie Jane’s voice pulled him out of his head, and he realized none of the old women-aunties, he amended silently as the youngest of them narrowed dark eyes and glared in his direction as though she was aware of his group designation-stood between him and Allie. He didn’t remember any of them moving.

  “As Mr. Spock said, in what was undeniably the best of the movies…”

  “Kay has a Ricardo Montalban fixation,” one of the older aunties interrupted.

  “Lovely man,” Auntie Kay agreed. “Amazing pecs. May his soul be at peace.” She frowned. “Where was I?”

  Graham wanted to kiss the corner of Allie’s mouth where it curved up, fighting a smile.

  “The needs of the many…” Auntie Muriel sighed, waving a knitting needle.

  “… outweigh the needs of the one. Of course. Had you killed the boy, we wouldn’t have needed to come to Calgary to save the world.”

  “Knowing what you know now…” Auntie Jane said with a glance around the circle and in a tone that suggested interrupting would prove fatal. “… given the choice again, would you choose differently?”

  Graham was certain she hadn’t been using choose like that before his realization. And there was that ten percent uncertainty again. The store was so quiet he could hear the soft whisper of Allie breathing. He could see the faint dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and the mole on her right earlobe. He could smell the shampoo, shower gel, Allie mix that made him think of her moving under him, legs wrapped around his hips…

  And given that there were twelve older women in the store wearing at least thirty-six separate scents between them, that should have been impossible.

  “If I had to do it again,” he said, “I wouldn’t do anything differently.”

  Allie raised a brow.

  “She was talking specifically about last night,” he reminded her.

  “She is the cat’s mother, Graham Buchanan,” Auntie Jane snorted. “Remember it. Christie, Grace, Ellen-go talk to David. Do not wear him out,” she snapped as they surged toward the back door. “Until we know exactly when the Queen is emerging, he could have to lock us down at any moment. Just get him to the point where he can be in the same room as his sister. Vera, Meredith, and Faith, take Michael, find a grocery store, get supplies. I very much doubt we’ll be able to put together decent meals from whatever Catherine has left behind. Oh, and you’d best find a hardware store as well, there’s no point in leaving it to the last minute.” If Michael’d had any objections, he had no chance to voice them as he was tugged back toward the bus. “Gwen get out from behind that counter. This is not the time for that sort of thing. The rest of you, upstairs, let’s get that Dragon Princeling sorted before we have to start supper.”

  And just like that, they were gone.

  Well, not exactly gone; he could hear them arguing on the stairs and in the courtyard and out on the sidewalk, but the store practically echoed with their absence.

  Allie took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she closed the distance between them, slid her arms around Graham’s waist, and rested her head on his shoulder. “That could have gone worse,” she admitted as his hands spread warm and comforting across her lower back.

  And all at once, the store was full of aunties again-down the stairs, in from the courtyard, spilling out of the bus and back in through the front door. Barely daring to breathe, Allie lifted her head and met Auntie Jane’s gaze. She couldn’t see a demarcation between pupil and iris. She could barely see any whites.

  Auntie Jane’s lips curled into the second scariest smile Allie had ever seen.

  “Well, well, well,” she said.

  Then the aunties were gone again.

  “Okay, that was weird.” Katie’s voice pulled Allie out of the circle of Graham’s arms although she kept her hand in his. “Any ideas?”

  Allie shook her head. “I was going to ask you.”

  “Not a clue. But hey, still third circle, what do I know. Hi, I’m Katie,” she directed a slightly harried grin in Graham’s direction. “Just so you know, if you were just fooling around with Allie, I’d be open to joining in because, seriously, those are a pair of fine looking shoulders and my breasts are larger, but since you clearly aren’t just fooling around, it’s nice to meet you. Now, please tell me Rol’s upstairs running interference for that poor kid.”

  It took Allie a moment to realize the poor kid referenced was Jack. The Dragon Prince.

  “He should be.” Allie turned to Graham who nodded, looking a little stunned.

  “Charlie’s there, too,” he told them. “I think she’s teaching Jack how to download Torchwood.”

  “She’s probably teaching him how to surf for porn,” Allie sighed. “Just as illegal but more likely to piss off Auntie Jane.”

  “Either way,” Katie sighed, “we need to get up there.”

  “Rol can hold them for a few minutes.”

  “Roland?” Graham asked.

  “You’ve only seen the geeky lawyer in the sweater vest,” Allie told him, searching the store for Joe. “When a Gale boy turns on the charm, even the aunties pause to appreciate…” She managed to keep the girly shriek down to a single syllable since she’d half expected Joe to fade in behind the counter-and there he was. “Are you okay?”

  His cheeks were flushed, and his lower lip was full and red like he’d been biting it. “Your Auntie Gwen kept groping me.”

  “She could see you?”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t seem to matter, did it?”

  Allie glanced over at her cousin who responded with the universal eye roll of how the hell should I know? “If you tell her to stop, she will. But you have to tell her flat out.”

  “Yeah, well…” Joe shrugged again.

  “Are you…?” Allie waved a hand, indicating the store, the counter, and the possibility of selling another yoyo.

  “Oh, I’m good down here.” He gripped the edge of the counter with both hands, and Allie suspected it would take all three of them working together to break his hold.

  As they passed the mirror, their reflections walked by the writhing body of a white Dragon Lord being pecked to pieces by crows. Allie’s reflection suddenly became a feminized version of the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz. When she spread her arms, just to see what would happen, the crows flew away.

  “Not exactly subtle,” Katie pointed out. “And why isn’t Graham naked?”

  Graham’s clothing began to fade. Allie touched her fingertips to the glass. “Stop it,” she said quietly, and Graham’s clothes returned. Plus a parka, a toque, snowmobile boots, and a pair of enormous, gauntleted ski mitts. “Thank you. How did you know the mirror would do that?” she demanded of her cousin.

  Katie sighed. “Gran’s mirror.” The “duh” remained unspoken but present. “And if I hadn’t already known you were crossing, that would have given it away.” She started up the stairs. “Second circle is so possessive it’s a bit creepy.”

  “I’m not…”

  “Allie, you’ve written mine on a leprechaun. And Graham. And Michael, again. And, I’m guessing, on a Dragon Prince.” Leaning back, she stuck her head around the corner into the lower hall. “You’ve been here a week. If that’s not possessive, I don’t know what is.”

  “Preemptive.”

  “Potato, potahto, Allie-cat.”

  When Katie waved and disappeared, Allie returned her attention to the mirror. “Don’t worry,” she told it, lightly gripping the frame. “I won’t let them destroy Jack.”

  “Are you sure,” Graham began, touching his hair with a bare hand while watching his reflection poke at the hat with a mitten tip. “… that’s Jack?” he finished as Allie shot him a look that said, Don’t undermine my authority with the mirror. She knew he’d been going to say, “Are you sure you can?” and was impressed he’d understood her message.

  “If it’s possible to prevent i
t, I’d rather the aunties didn’t eat any of the Dragon Lords alive.”

  “Are they likely to?”

  Linking her fingers with his, she tugged him toward the stairs. “Depends.” With any luck he wouldn’t ask depends on what? “You didn’t happen to count the crows did you? The ones in the mirror?”

  “No, why?”

  “Well, it was hard to tell since they were never still, but as they flew away, I could’ve sworn there were thirteen.”

  “Is that important? Thirteen crows?”

  Allie glanced back, lower lip caught between her teeth. “It means something,” she said slowly. “I’m sure of that, I’m just not sure what.”

  “In Mesoamerican divination, thirteen is the number of important cycles of fortune and misfortune. Loki was the thirteenth guest at a banquet where he killed Baldur beginning Ragnarok. Thirteen nodes make up the Metatron’s Cube.” When Allie stopped climbing and turned to face him, he grinned. “I wrote an article on Triskaidekaphobia for our second issue.”

  “I keep forgetting you have a secret identity.”

  “Had.” The grin flattened. “He might have moved out of the office, but he still runs the paper.”

  “Remember, it isn’t over until the fat lady sings.” She brushed a strand of hair back off his face. “In this case, that would be Auntie Kay. If she starts in on Andrew Lloyd Webber, run.”

  Graham frowned. “Why?”

  “She’s really, really bad.”

  They entered the apartment just in time to see Roland step in front of Jack and say, “Auntie Bea! He’s thirteen!”

  Since Jack looked more intrigued than upset, Allie decided she didn’t need to know the context. And anyway, Auntie Jane stepped forward before she could say anything, moving around Roland-or possibly moving Roland, Allie couldn’t be positive which-and pinching Jack’s chin between thumb and forefinger.

  “Oh, yes,” she murmured, turning his head to the right and then to the left. From where Allie was standing it looked very much like she was peering up his nose. “You’re family, all right.”

  Allie rolled her eyes and pushed her way through the crowd of aunties-and six aunties were more than capable of seeming like a crowd. “He’s family because I claimed him, Auntie Jane.” All the charms but the one on his forehead were covered by clothing but should have made no difference to an auntie.

  “He’s family because of blood, Alysha Catherine.”

  “Blood?” Her cousins, standing together behind Jack in a show of generation unity, returned I have no idea what she’s talking about expressions. “We’re related to the Dragon Lords?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, child. We’re related to his father.”

  “His father?”

  “My father?” Jack grabbed Auntie Jane’s sleeve. “You know my father?”

  “I wouldn’t say that I know him, child, but I met him once. It was just before he disappeared. I was three and I remember my Auntie Anna insisting he was going to turn and his youngest sister, that would be Clara who died, oh sixteen years ago now, kept insisting he wouldn’t.” Patting Jack’s hand, she turned her head toward Allie. “He killed Auntie Anna when she tried to stop him. Sisters are usually fairly stupid about that sort of thing.”

  “Clara,” Auntie Bea snorted as Allie backed up until her shoulder blades were pressed against Graham’s chest and his hands rested warm and grounding on her hips. “Woman was a total nut job there at the end. Eight dead, and she refused to believe her brother had done anything wrong.”

  “Magnificent fruitcake recipe, though,” Auntie Muriel added. “Impossible to duplicate.” The other five made noises of varying agreement.

  “Wait, wait, wait, wait!” Roland had both hands up, his eyes so wide Allie could see the whites all the way around. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Roland, law school ruined you.” Still holding Jack’s hand, Auntie Jane moved over to one of the sofas and sat. Jack tried to pull free, had no success, and ended up sitting beside her looking just a little freaked. “Stop it,” she said as the lights began to flicker.

  To no one’s surprise, they stopped.

  The other aunties found seats, leaving Roland, Charlie, Katie, Allie, and Graham on their feet.

  “Well, Charlotte, you’ve always been good at jumping to conclusions, what do you…?” Auntie Jane frowned up at her. Blinked. “What on earth have you done to your hair?”

  Charlie tucked her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “Red’s a better color for country,” she said evenly.

  “And I’m sure Reba McIntyre is thrilled you approve,” Auntie Jane sniffed. “That, however, is not a shade of red intended for hair. That is a shade intended for cheap lipstick and slutty lingerie.”

  “The blue hair made her look like a Smurf,” Auntie Muriel pointed out, unrolling a long multicolored tube and starting to knit.

  “I’m not saying this doesn’t look better,” Auntie Jane sniffed again.

  Allie could tell by the curl to Charlie’s lip that she was about to say something they’d probably all regret, given that the aunties believed in spreading the blame. “You’re saying that Graham’s boss… ex-boss,” she corrected hurriedly as his fingers tightened, “was a Gale.”

  “Was a Gale?” Auntie Jane’s gaze whipped around toward her so quickly Allie nearly felt a breeze. “No. Is a Gale.”

  “Is?” Allie repeated.

  “They’re too young,” Auntie Bea snapped.

  “That horse is already out of the barn, Bea. Besides, the child is sitting right here, and blood always tells. Eventually, they’d have figured it out for themselves or,” Auntie Jane continued, her voice dropping into what David had always called someone’s going to get it territory, “I’d have had something to say to the lot of them about paying attention to what’s actually going on.”

  Katie raised a hand. “I just got here.”

  “And don’t make me regret bringing you.”

  “So Alastair Bronwin,” Roland said slowly, “the sorcerer the family took out in 1973…”

  “He had the brains to settle in Syria,” Auntie Kay snorted. “Never would have found him if it hadn’t been for the oil crisis.”

  “… he was a Gale?”

  “They’re all Gales,” Allie said, watching Auntie Jane’s face as the last few pieces fell into place. “That’s what sorcerers are. They’re Gales gone bad who got away. They don’t just use the power to gain more power, they use the power to extend their lives. Who was he?”

  “He?”

  “Jack’s father.”

  “Before he was a sorcerer, his name was Jonathon Samuel Gale.”

  Allie nodded. “That’s why we stop them, isn’t it? Because they’re Gales. They’re family. They’re our responsibility. And that’s why we’re attracted to them, it’s not the power, it’s because they’re…” With an image of Stanley Kalynchuk in her head, with Roland in the room, she couldn’t say Gale boys. “But I wasn’t…” Graham. “I wasn’t because by the time I met him, Graham and I had already connected…”

  “Is that what the kids are calling it these days,” Auntie Carol snickered.

  “… and I was moving into second circle. And Graham was in the room with us. What if I hadn’t… Oh.” She wouldn’t have even known there was a sorcerer in Calgary if she hadn’t seen the hexes on Graham’s chest. Not with him locked down and hiding from the Dragon Lords. Not until it was too late. Everything came back to that first meeting between her and Graham that night in the store. Just the two of them. Because Charlie’d been delayed.

  She looked up to see Charlie’s gaze locked on her face and wondered how much her expression had given away. Or, with more information than the aunties had been given, whether Charlie’d arrived at the same place.

  Then she took one more step.

  “Jack’s a sorcerer.”

  “Yes.”

  Allie realized Auntie Jane hadn’t let go of Jack’s hand. �
��And a Gale.”

  “Yes.”

  They were all looking at her now-the aunties, her cousins, Jack. Jack’s eyes were gold, but Human enough for all that, and he had a curved blemish on one cheek that looked like a hockey scar. Somehow Allie doubted the Dragon Lords played hockey, but it wouldn’t be the strangest thing she’d heard. His nose was a little too big for his face and he had a smudge of lemon pie filling on his hoodie. He’d just started into the all-knees-and-elbows phase and Allie hoped that his mother’s heritage had gifted him with more grace than his Human side. He sat motionless beside Auntie Jane, breathing a little heavily, two thin lines of smoke trickling out of his nose-but then the one thing she knew about his upbringing was that he could recognize predators.

  His uncles kept trying to eat him.

  His aunties…

  But if they truly were his aunties…

  “Gale boys choose,” Allie said, straightening and squaring her shoulders. “And he’s not old enough. He’s thirteen. Fifteen’s the minimum for third circle, no matter how much of a pain in the ass the boys are about it.”

  “He’s a sorcerer now,” Auntie Bea reminded her. She sounded almost gleeful about it.

  “That doesn’t matter. He didn’t choose it. His abilities are innate because sorcery was used in his conception.”

  “The situation is unique,” Auntie Jane agreed, dark eyes narrowed. “But that in itself suggests we find a unique solution.”

  “If he’s a Gale, then what applies to the rest of the family applies to him. Either family matters, or it doesn’t. If he isn’t a Gale, then he isn’t your responsibility. And what’s more…” Allie was suddenly tired of butting heads with stubborn old women. “… like I told his uncles, he’s under my protection.”

  “And that’s your last word on the matter, is it, Alysha Catherine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that seems like a unique solution to me.” She patted Jack’s hand, released it, and stood. “Muriel?”