A Wild Conversion Page 11

  Brandon shook his head gravely. “I have no business with those who do not wish to consult me. They must come to me. I will not go to them.”

  In some ways, it was a non-answer, but Frederick nodded, knowing that they would discover what this sage already comprehended when it was time. He asked no more.

  Now, he understood Emma’s confusion over why the centaur came to this place. He was much too noble a creature for any of the Everlys—or anyone who might be working with his family—to have earned his presence.

  He allowed himself to be led, then, held out a hand for Natalie, as well. He suddenly felt all too clearly the pain the woman must be experiencing, having been so left out of her oldest friend’s attention today.

  When she smiled at him, he thought he saw her actual approval below the gratitude, as she took his arm, rather than his hand. He understood. That was somehow a privilege only Emma deserved.

  He had never thought of his attentions this way before, although he was aware that many of his wealthier female patients had. Still, that had had nothing to do with who he was and everything to do with his wealth and status. For the first time, he felt that the people around him judged him for something deeper. He only wanted to prove himself worthy of their attention.

  Quickly, they moved through an outer showroom, which contained items he had no name for and many he had never imagined. There were probably words for some of them in his mental dictionary, but he didn’t know how to go about looking them up.

  Besides, they didn’t capture his attention for long. A young, female centaur sat on the floor, watching him with interest, and his heart seemed to burn with sadness.

  No. She didn’t belong here. She was still a young colt, should be out on green fields, playing. To be stuck in clothes and forced into a building was entirely the wrong place to house her spirit.

  He didn’t know why he felt these truths so strongly, but he didn’t question them, and he started to wonder whether those inner emotions were some sign of the magic he apparently contained.

  Emma clearly saw his interest in the girl, waited until they were out of the shop. “Brandon’s daughter.”

  “What’s her name?” He still stared back at her.

  Emma’s gaze was surprised, before she shook her head slightly. “Centaurs don’t name themselves till they’re around 50.” She shrugged when she saw his look. “That’s young for them. He lets her come with him sometimes.”

  Knowing she didn’t understand, Frederick sighed. “He’s training her.”

  She looked at him curiously, and he shook his head.

  “He wants her to learn how to adjust her vision to one small realm at a time.”

  This fully stopped the woman, who was now staring at him, dropping his arm, although he wasn’t certain whether her look contained fear or wonder. Natalie let him go, as well.

  “Frederick . . .” Emma took a deep breath, and he saw that fear was definitely part of her feelings. “What did you see, when we disapparated?”

  One of her gentle, capable hands was on his chest, as she stared into his eyes, and he took comfort in her unspoken claiming of him. He knew he had already done the same with her.

  He didn’t know how to answer, though, nor how to explain all he had seen. “Everything,” he said at last but tried to explain further at her look. “So many different worlds and life. It made this one look . . .” Glancing around them, he knew the sadness showed. “Petty.”

  She was actively grasping his shirtfront now, her irises nearly yellow from the constant, flashing lightning storm there, which had lost its rainbow element suddenly. Natalie’s whisper behind him was almost fearful. “A seer.”

  It was only in sadness that he somehow knew her to be right.

  He could feel the power in himself now, bubbling beneath his skin. He should have been afraid of it, knew Natalie nearly was. He certainly had no way of knowing how to channel or use it only for good—and to know what that good was. He just understood that his whole world had shifted since this morning.

  Now, unlike the training of a lifetime, his feelings were important, possibly more important than anything else. He had been raised to believe that emotions were fuzzy, female thinking—or, at least, he had been raised that he was supposed to believe that. But now he understood that they were his one, true guide in this completely novel universe. Reason had no sole kingdom here.

  Emma still looked worried but far more open than she had since he had met her. It was as though, in finally knowing what he was, what his magic was named, she could engage him as an equal.

  Even to him, this seemed a bit ridiculous, since she was the budding sorcerer, not him. He could feel her untapped power bubbling beneath his skin. She had been right to be afraid when her magic had first tempted her, had more power than even she could imagine. When she finally allowed herself to accept it in full . . .

  He understood now what the conversion was, far more than any of his host’s explanations. It was an acceptance of what you were and would become, and which parts of yourself you would fight to protect and to reject. It was a knowledge of self and purpose so strong it could never be undone. Even the lights in her eyes were her inner magic growing so powerful that it had to manifest constantly. He saw them flash again, as she put her hands on his face, her look both loving and intense. And he knew that he too would protect her and her world in whatever ways he had or could find to give.

  He wasn’t aware how much of this knowledge she had, until her gaze went deeper, her words resonating through him. “I claim you, Frederick Everly. I claim you as mine to protect.”

  Especially from Natalie’s gasp, he could tell that this was some sort of established ritual, an important—and probably unbreakable—one. He wasn’t certain what had moved her toward it just now, especially as he knew they were drawing stares from passersby who understood its significance far better than he did, but he didn’t stop to question.

  Putting his hands on her face as well, he answered, “And I claim you, Emma Goodwinter. I claim you as mine to protect and to love.”

  The last words made the lights in her eyes burst into reddened supernovas for an instant, but he knew she was surprised. He wasn’t certain whether his words were correct for whatever ritual they were performing but moved with what his soul told him.

  “You may reject my love if you don’t wish it, but it will alter nothing for me. The love is yours, whether you accept or not.”

  Still, this didn’t seem like enough. So he drew her to him and kissed her, with all the built-up passion of 32 properly-reserved years.

  It didn’t matter, at that moment, that they were in full public view. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought. It did matter, greatly, that he felt her own pleasure in his touch, felt it warming and coursing through her blood and his, as she returned the kiss in full.

  His arms surrounding her, there was nothing to hold him back. With the kiss, he told her everything he was and would be—and let her know that all of them were hers. He would accept her rejection, should she decide she didn’t want him. He would not accept it for any other reason.

  This was as it should be. In love, one person had to make the first sacrifice of admitting how they felt, had to open themselves to rejection. He would be her sacrifice, if necessary. Either way, there was no way to change what already was.

  Chapter 9

  Emma

  Emma was not the first to pull back from the kiss, more than willing to let the whole of Salem be shocked by the latest gossip she had provided. Even once Frederick let her somewhat go, she was reeling.

  “World-making” would only have been a start on describing that kiss, but it wasn’t enough. “Everything” only came a little closer.

  While part of her knew that the information would make its way back to Frederick’s family, she didn’t mind, more than ready for the battle which would follow. If they wanted the man, they would have to go through her. She was certain the lights in her eyes were flashing
wildly. There was absolutely no way she was letting any of them have what was hers.

  Such possessiveness was not entirely positive, she knew, as she gazed over her half-partner’s lips intensely, her thumb tracing along their path. She wasn’t even certain how he knew the correct words to take her as his partner, except that a latent seer could understand far more than he had ever been taught. It even explained why all the new knowledge which had been forced on him today hadn’t driven him into a complete breakdown—and why his sister, without such powers, was having a much harder time.

  Of course, as immense as this moment was, she hadn’t completely sealed their partnership yet. Instead, she had only claimed him as a tender responsibility—but she didn’t regret that part at all.

  They were still standing there, staring into each other’s eyes, as several people stopped in the street to watch. She could feel the eyes of some who were less-than-friendly toward her and looked up to see Philbert Spear glaring.

  A snap of her fingers put a protective spell around herself, Frederick and Natalie which a small army couldn’t have shifted. Certainly, she no longer needed the movement to seal it but wanted to let him know that she understood which side they were on. Especially after Hester’s earlier attack, there was no point in pretending that a war hadn’t begun.

  The head of just one of the families she now knew to be the enemy of Salem and its people glared at her but went on his way. Frederick never looked away from her eyes.

  Turning back to Natalie, she took her hand to welcome her into their circle. Even if she did partner completely with the man, she would not reject her lifelong best friend.

  “I claimed Natalie, too, a long time ago,” she explained to him.

  He just nodded, didn’t seem to confuse the idea of her protection with the sort of romantic bond they themselves shared, which made things much easier. Maybe 19th-century men’s minds didn’t immediately flip to images of girl-on-girl the second two women were vaguely friendly with each other—which was a definite point in their favor.

  “Later, we can talk about . . .”

  Interrupting her, pulling her hand close in both of his, he nodded. “I’ve given to you. I don’t ask to receive.”

  Her eyes widened. Lord, he was talking like Brandon now, some power within him waking. His thumb stroked down her cheek, and she felt her heart stutter.

  “I only thank you for your claim.”

  Not knowing if he understood exactly what the first part of his own claim entailed, that it meant he was willing to die to protect, she wasn’t certain how to explain. Although, given the look in his eyes, perhaps he did.

  If he kept up the thumb thing, as well, she was going to be tempted to give up on the whole looking-after-the-city stuff and just drag him into bed, which, she knew, was why she absolutely could not say the words to finish their partnering now. Too much else had to be attended to yet.

  Clearly understanding, Frederick smiled at her, and she could nearly hear the silent, Oh, my! from Natalie, although she didn’t think she was actually projecting it to her.

  Hoo boy, was she ever right about that. Frederick—even a little lost and overwhelmed by new knowledge—had been a nice, tall case of female catnip. Frederick, the budding seer . . . grrrrooowl.

  She saw his smile, knew he fully understood her interest. It took a lot to drag herself back to their current situation—a little bit of her mind rebelling. Why did she have to meet him when there was some sort of magical war brewing? Why did he have to be here during the chaos of her conversion?

  Trying to refocus, she led the two of them across the street. Of course, the answer to both was too obvious. It was only in trying to protect Frederick and his sister that her conversion had begun at all.

  She didn’t think into this too deeply now, needing to talk to Aubry. If she were going to protect him and his partner, as well as the rest of Salem, from whatever hellish order the Everlys and the rest of their conspirators had planned, she was going to need all the information she could get.

  With this intention, she got them all into the butcher’s shop with but was drawn up short, once inside. Barely did she get the door closed or put down an ignore-me spell before the rush overwhelmed her.

  Both Natalie and Frederick had to hold her up, as her eyes flared.

  Her magic. This was her own magic which flowed around her, pulsing through the house. The ignore-me spell she had just lain down had only fused to a twin spell which already existed. But how had the man . . .?

  It was Natalie who answered. “You paid him earlier, remember?”

  Pulling herself together enough from the shock that they could let her go, she felt Frederick’s hand linger warmly on her back.

  “That small ball of magic must have taken on new dimensions when you started converting.”

  Emma took a deep breath. It wasn’t that she had never encountered her own magic before. It surrounded her house, for one thing, permeated the very atmosphere there. But running into an essential part of herself somewhere where she had no idea she was was disconcerting, to say the least—and the fact that it was being used as a powerful protection and ignore-me ward over what was essentially a public business spoke volumes to what dire things must have happened here.

  It was only a moment later when she realized that the various feelings she picked up from Natalie were not merely guesses. She could still sense everything within her.

  Staring in shock, Emma saw her sheepish shrug. Natalie was speaking mentally now. I know you cut it off somewhat, but even the deeper levels never really went away. I knew I could open it again with a thought. She put her hand on Emma’s arm. Sorry. I don’t know why.

  Frederick’s voice was in her head, as well, which only disturbed her more. Is there time for this now?

  She knew he was right. The personal wasn’t really that important in the middle of a war.

  Deciding to try to sort out that little mystery later, she focused on Aubry, as he clattered down the stairs, his disturbed state obvious. “Praise Hecate, Goodwinter Distaff, it’s you.”

  He was panting, nearly crying. She had never seen him in anything like such a lather.

  “Philbert Spear has been hanging around outside for at least two hours. It’s only because you started converting that he wasn’t able to break in.”

  She would have asked why he didn’t call for her but didn’t really need to. Part of an ignore-me spell was being forgotten. Reaching outside of it was only asking for trouble.

  Emma let go of her friend and half-partner, then, came toward the man, trying to regain the composure she had found so simple just earlier today. She needed it to handle . . . whatever this was.

  “What’s been happening?” She had rather lost focus on the man after the train wreck when Frederick had stumbled, rather literally, into her life. It was quite clear that nothing was going to be the same after that.

  Aubry ran his hand through his hair, looked as though he wanted to scream. Finally, he said, “Come upstairs,” and led the way. Apparently, it was easier to show than to tell.

  They all followed at a run, Emma trying to adjust to opening her mind to both Nat and Frederick once more. The immensity of her conversion was, somehow, an incredibly personal experience. If there were anyone she would share it with, it was them, but still . . .

  They got to the top and found Trudy sitting in bed with two babies beside her. Emma was temporarily confused, had been certain that Gentry and his partner had only had one son, until she felt Frederick startle. It’s the child from the train.

  She realized he hadn’t spoken aloud, which might be wise. She followed suit. The one you protected?

  He nodded, and she looked around.

  Then, where’s the mother?

  They all looked to Gentry. Trudy, with her happiness magic, had two blissed-out children near her, but her own eyes were anything but. Emma feared for them all.

  “What’s happened?” Glancing around, she found a few chairs and t
ook a seat with her friends to listen. “Tell us everything.”

  Aubry stared at Frederick nervously but clearly trusted Emma enough to begin. “It was after the train wreck. I went out to help, like everyone else, and saw . . .”

  He glanced back to his partner nervously, but she nodded to him.

  “Philbert Spear. He was dragging away a woman and her baby. They were clearly afraid and didn’t want to go, but . . .” He faltered. “Well, he’s Philbert Spear. When has he ever listened to anyone else’s desires?”

  This was the least polite thing Emma had ever heard Aubry say, which she supposed was because he was, for once, protected from outside listeners. Besides, it was about the kindest evaluation of Philbert Spear Emma could come up with.

  Nodding, she waited for the rest.

  He gave it nervously. “Mr. Brandon was there, too. Mostly, he just watched, like he usually does, but when he caught my eye, I knew he intended to do something.”

  He started twisting his hands, until Trudy put hers on them, making him visibly relax, if only a little.

  “I don’t really remember what he did. I just know I lost some time, a minute or two, and then I was standing there with a baby in my arms. I remember his words, although I don’t remember him speaking to me.”

  Only his partner’s touch seemed to keep him from utter terror.

  “He said, ‘You have a new child. No one knows any difference. You may save the child, even though the mother is lost.’”

  Frederick leaned forward, his face in his hand, and she felt the overwhelming waves of despair. Reaching out to him, touching him softly, she told him the truth. There was nothing you could do.

  He looked up at her, the pain so obvious, as she went on.

  You were lucky to survive the wounds you had. Whatever spell the lume-noirs were meant for was a terrible one. They would have killed you if . . . She didn’t say the rest. There was no way he could have looked after the mother, as well.

  Calming a little, taking her hand, he filled in the rest. If you hadn’t acted.