The Trouble With Spells, Page 9

I was all dressed in my new clothes and had pulled some of my hair up into a knot at the back of my head, letting the rest drape in a long curl that lay down the side of my neck, which helped to hide the scar there with a little artfully applied makeup.

  The jewelry Vance had given me went perfectly with everything, and I felt quite sparkly, despite the nervous butterflies in my stomach at meeting a bunch of people I had absolutely nothing in common with.

  He stepped out of the dressing room, and I turned to look at him in the formal cut tuxedo he had purchased, while he fastened his tie in the mirror over the mantle.

  He was magnificent, and I couldn’t even blink, let alone look away from him. For someone who was a self-proclaimed t-shirt and jeans kind of guy, he sure could pull off the formal attire well.

  After finishing with his tie, he finally turned, letting his hands drop to his side while he stopped to stare at me.

  “Stunning,” was all he said, and his gaze raked over me, not once but twice, his blue eyes sparking to life as if I had lit a match in them.

  He was over to my side in two strides, reaching out for me, and I backed away laughing holding him at arm’s length.

  “Don’t touch me. You’ll mess me all up again,” I said, knowing he wouldn’t care in the least.

  He grabbed me easily and pulled me back to him, up against his chest, his fresh breath floating over me as he spoke.

  “I’ll be gentle. I promise,” he said, and he placed a soft kiss on my lips.

  I relented under his masterful touch, wrapping my arms around his neck and really kissing him back, letting my emotion flow into him, and he did the same to me. It was a breathless, yet tender, moment.

  In the end, when the kiss was over, he had kept his word, and I only had to retouch some makeup around my mouth.

  “I guess we’ve kept the guests waiting long enough,” I said with a sigh while he watched me reapply my lip gloss in the bathroom mirror.

  “We don’t know any of them,” he replied with a smile. “If it weren’t so rude to my grandparents, I’d be much more inclined to stay in here tonight with you.”

  “Me too,” I added with a nod, and I turned to place my hand against the side of his handsome face.

  His eyes flitted down over my features and to my neck.

  “I guess I should let you have the opportunity to show off your new jewelry, though,” he teased.

  My hand flitted up to where the new necklace lay at my neck, and I fingered it as several thoughts ran through my head.

  “What’s the matter?” Vance asked me curiously.

  “I was just thinking about how my amulet protected me when the roof fell in at the school, but it didn’t do anything when you or Damien bit me. Why is that?” I asked him.

  He let out a soft sigh and pondered this for a moment before he answered. “Things like talismans are very selective in the way they activate. It’s a magic that’s helpful, but not to be relied on heavily.” He held up the hand which had the ring my grandma had sent to him. “I wear this because it’s a gift of good magic from the coven. Maybe it’ll help me someday, maybe it won’t, but what does it hurt?”

  I nodded my head.

  “I remember Grandma telling me that it might not do you any good as your dad’s coven had already figured out a way around the charms in the past,” I replied.

  “It’s very difficult for something like a charm to ward off live magic,” he said while he fingered the diamond at my neck. “Your amulet protected you from something non-magical when the explosion happened, and it may have very well played a part in you being unharmed when you were almost hit by the car. Neither of those instances had a magical force directly behind it.”

  “Oh, I see,” I said, suddenly understanding the difference in the situations I had been placed in.

  The amulet had successfully protected me in physical circumstances, but the magical things that had threatened me were too powerful for it.

  “Why all the questions tonight, baby? Are you feeling nervous, under protected?” he asked while he looked at me carefully.

  I laughed nervously.

  “No. I just feel a little naked without the amulet. I’ve worn it for so long. And I’m a little nervous about meeting a bunch of people I don’t know,” I admitted truthfully.

  He reached out and stroked my face with his hand.

  “Portia, you have nothing to worry about tonight,” he began. “You’ll be the most beautiful thing in the room, and the guests are sure to be mesmerized by you as much as I am. And I promise you, I won’t let any harm come to you.”

  “I know you won’t,” I said, trusting him completely, staring into his blue eyes.

  I held my arm out to him, and he took it then, leading me out of the door and to the grand staircase. We walked carefully down the stairs, turning into one of the massive hallways and walking until we reached the doorway to the ballroom.

  A uniformed man, holding a large rod in one hand, looked at us before banging the rod three times on the floor.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Vance Mangum,” he announced loudly with a booming voice into the room, and I was surprised that he knew who we were since I had never laid eyes on him before in my life.

  Every single person in the room stopped whatever they were doing and looked over at us standing at the entrance.

  Vance led me into the room, and Fiona quickly weaved her way through the throng of people to come and give him a kiss on both sides of his face.

  Douglas stepped up to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present you with our grandson, Vance,” Douglas spoke proudly to the crowd.

  People immediately began lining up to come meet him, and suddenly I found myself pushed back behind the three of them in the shuffle of the crowd.

  I smiled, though, as I watched him standing there with his family, feeling very happy for him in this moment.

  Only a few seconds passed before I saw him turn to look for me in the crowd. He stepped from in between his grandparents, effectively shunning those who were milling around him vying for his attention, reaching out to pull me firmly up next to his side.

  He never let go of my hand for the rest of the evening as he politely introduced me to every person that came to meet him. If anyone called his attention or threatened to separate us, he would make them wait until I could join him.

  After meeting so many people that we couldn’t have possibly remembered any of their names, he finally led me out onto the dance floor.

  He swept me up, moving to a romantic waltz while the string quartet played away, but I could feel that he was upset about something.

  “Don’t you ever let people push you to the side like that again,” he chastened me with a serious look.

  “It didn’t bother me. I’m no one to these people. They were all excited to meet you, and rightly so,” I said softly.

  “I don’t like it when you talk like that, Portia,” he said gruffly, though his voice softened a little. “You’re the most beautiful person in this room, inside and out. They may not know what they’re missing, but I do when you aren’t there.”

  He had a point he was trying to make, and he chose to do it here. He stopped dancing with me, as the other couples in the room swirled around us on the floor, and pulled me into his embrace. He lifted both hands to my face, tilting it to his, placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

  I stood there rooted to the spot while he tenderly moved over my mouth for everyone in attendance to see. I could almost feel the heat from the stares we were getting as people began to notice us in this sweet embrace.

  He took his time, not caring what anyone was thinking, or what protocols he was breaking, sending his message to me and everyone else in the room. I was part of him, and he was part of me.

  A quiet cough interrupted our interlude, and we pulled away from each other slowly to look at the intruder.

  Brian Fitzgerald was standing next to us.

  “May
I cut in?” he asked politely, extending a hand to me in invitation as was customary.

  “No,” Vance said, clearly irritated at the intrusion, and he sized Brian up, refusing to let go of me.

  “I’m sorry?” Brian asked, taken aback at the refusal, and I thought I saw anger flash briefly in his eyes.

  I spoke up quickly, trying to ease the tension in the situation.

  “My husband and I were having what should have been a private moment, Brian. I’m sorry if we weren’t being discreet enough,” I said, and I lightly reached out to rest my hand on Brian’s forearm.

  I felt the anger seethe through Vance at this, though, and I quickly removed my hand, worrying that I had somehow made the situation worse.

  “Don’t apologize for us, Portia,” Vance said, and he took a step closer to Brian, so he was standing in between us.

  This time I put my arm on Vance in an attempt to restrain him from doing something stupid.

  “Could I speak with you for a moment, Vance?” I said with slightly clenched teeth while I forced a smile.

  Vance looked at me for a long moment before giving me a nod and allowing me to tow him out of the room.

  I walked with him into a sitting area in the room next door, closing the door behind us.

  “What was that all about?” I asked him curiously, my eyes wide.

  He gave a sigh before he turned to walk away from me.

  “I don’t know,” he said, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I was upset by everyone shutting you out in the beginning of the evening. I just want to be alone with you instead of at this stupid party. Then this Brian joker walks up and wants to dance with you.” He looked up at me seriously. “I don’t like that guy.”

  “Why not? He’s been nothing but kind and helpful to us,” I replied, surprised at his sudden declaration against the man.

  “I just get this vibe, every time he looks at you. It’s like you’re something he wants for himself. He doesn’t care that you’re my wife, and it’s driving me crazy with the need to rearrange his face,” he said angrily.

  I laughed in spite of his anger.

  “I think you’re jealous, and there’s nothing to be jealous of. I certainly have no feelings for him,” I replied, watching him. “You’re the only person I can even see, Vance. There’s no one else for me but you. Nothing will ever change that.”

  “I know,” he said as he came back over and placed his hands on my arms, running them over me. “But so help me, you belong to me, and if that punk gets any idea in his head otherwise, he won’t live to regret it!”

  I felt a shudder move over my body, thinking Brian would indeed be a complete fool to cross him. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that Vance was completely serious.

  Chapter 8

  I finally managed to coax Vance back into the party, where he put on a pretty good show of proper manners for the rest of the night.

  The only thing people found curious, including myself, was the fact that he turned down every request anyone made to dance with me.

  He would laughingly explain that he was still such a newlywed that it was impossible for him to let me go anywhere without him. He stuck to me like glue the entire evening, breaking all the rules of propriety. By the end of the night, though, I think everyone thought he was charming in his devotion and affections toward me.

  I, however, began to watch him a little closer, noticing that his behavior became ever more possessive. He seemed nervous to me, grabbing a glass of champagne every time a waiter passed, and quickly downing the contents. I could see that something was really eating at him; I just didn’t know what it was.

  I was happy when the last of the guests departed well after midnight. After thanking Douglas and Fiona for the wonderful evening, I led him gently by the hand back up the stairs to our room.

  “What is going on?” I asked once we were safely inside with the door closed and locked behind us.

  “Portia, I’m losing my mind,” he said as he sank to sit on the tufted bench at the foot of the bed, looking completely dejected.

  I went over to kneel in front of him, placing my hands gently on his knees.

  “Can I help you somehow?” I asked, truly concerned at his attitude and wanting to help him somehow.

  He looked at me for several long moments, not replying, his gaze never wavering, and he stared deep into my eyes.

  I waited, not pressuring him or trying to read the thoughts in his head, letting him decide when he was ready to speak.

  “Something is wrong. I have felt funny ever since we stayed the first night here. Temperamentally, I get irritated by the smallest things, and I just have this constant itch to be with you. Physically, I mean. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but something is different. It’s almost an overwhelming need to be with you … all the time.” He rubbed his hand through his hair in frustration. “I know I’m not making any sense. I always want to be with you, but this is something really intense. It’s almost like the desires I had when I was going through the demon conversion.”

  That did scare me.

  “You aren’t having some type of relapse are you?” I asked, alarmed as I looked him over closely searching for any of the telltale signs. “We did just assume that you’d been cured of everything. Could we have missed something?”

  “I don’t know,” he said shaking his head, reaching a hand out to drawn it lovingly over my cheek. “I’m not really noticing anything like withdrawal, and I haven’t noticed any red eyes or anything.”

  He stood up then and walked around me to go over to the table where a new bottle of champagne was chilling in the room. He popped the cork and poured himself a large glass before turning to me.

  “Do you want some?” he asked.

  “No, thank you,” I replied. “It doesn’t settle well with me.”

  He quickly downed the entire contents of the glass and poured himself another one.

  I watched him with concern. I had never seen him drink like this. We had both stayed pretty far away from alcohol in our lives, except for the small sip of wine here and there, when performing rituals.

  I didn’t say anything about it to him, though, figuring he needed it to calm his nerves.

  He drank in silence, and I noticed after a few minutes he did seem a bit less antsy. I went to him then and wrapped my arms around him.

  “Do you feel better now?” I asked while I hugged him.

  “Yes, thank you.” He sighed, placing his glass down on the table so he could begin to pick the pins out of my hair, bringing it down from its up-do. “I’m sorry for scaring you with all this.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m your wife. This is what I’m here for.” I smiled up at him, and he fanned his fingers through my hair, bringing it around my shoulders.

  He didn’t reply, instead bending to kiss me. The kiss was soft at first but quickly deepened into more.

  Our previous thoughts were soon well distracted, and I noticed the first morning light was creeping into the room when he finally pulled me into his embrace so we could both fall asleep.

  It was late in the afternoon when I woke up. I noticed right away that he wasn’t in the bed with me anymore.

  I turned to search the large room for him.

  He was standing next to the fireplace in his robe, leaning over the mantle, watching the fire burn. I saw that he had a bottle of champagne in one hand and an almost empty glass in the other.

  He lifted the flute to swallow the rest of the contents and immediately raised the bottle to pour another refill.

  Something was really wrong here. I didn’t know what it was, but I began to feel a little bit of fear creep into my chest. This was not the way Vance acted. He wasn’t a drinker at all. This behavior was completely out of character for him.

  He sensed my feelings instantly, lifting his head to look at me. He downed the rest of the champagne quickly and placed the glass down, coming to crawl on the bed next to me.

  “Vance?
What’s going on?” I asked as I scooted myself up against the mountains of pillows to look at him.

  “Don’t be scared,” he said, and he caressed my face with his hand. “I’m fine.”

  “I’ve never seen you drink like this before,” I said, looking over to the nearly empty bottle still sitting above the fireplace.

  “I’m sorry. It just helps take the edge off,” he replied.

  “The edge of what?” I asked, completely confused.

  “I don’t know how to explain it,” he said, his eyes raking over me. “Just trust me, okay?”

  “Maybe we should go tell your grandparents how you’re feeling. They might be able to help,” I suggested.

  “I’m fine. Really,” he said before he grabbed my face with one of his hands, kissing me roughly this time.

  He became a little too aggressive, and I finally pushed him away. I was actually beginning to feel like he was bruising my face with his strong fingers.

  He looked at me intensely, almost angrily.

  “Is the breakfast tray still here?” I asked, shooting the first words I could think of out of my mouth, feigning hunger.

  I didn’t think I would really be able to eat as my insides were shaking horribly.

  “Oh! I’m sorry! I forgot you haven’t eaten yet,” he said as he climbed off the bed and went over to get the cart and wheel it to the bedside.

  I watched him carefully.

  He still seemed like himself, yet there was this edge that hadn’t been there before. I wondered lamely if he just wasn’t getting enough sleep. Surely that, combined with stress, could cause some strange behavior.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and began feeding the food to me. I watched him intently while forcing myself to chew what he was giving me, even though it tasted like sawdust in my mouth. I soon noticed how every now and then he would raise his hand to his temple like he was getting a headache or something,

  “I’m really tired today,” I said in between bites of food.

  “Well, I did keep you up quite late.” He smiled, feeding me another mouthful, and I saw a flash of the lusty look from last night pop back into his eyes.