Rite of Passage (8 page)

The dark, narrow roads shot past in a blur. I had no memory of their passing. In no time I found myself at the estate. I vowed to find Jon and give him a punch in the nose, but there was something I wanted more: to find Courtney and stare into her enormous brown eyes. Maybe I was bewitched. I’d never been a drippy romantic. Every relationship was fun, satisfying, and good for me. This all-consuming passion was something totally new and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

I was at the turnoff for the estate when I saw the red and blue lights in the rearview mirror.
I pulled over a hundred yards from the long gravel driveway, leaning my head against the steering wheel. The officer pulled up behind me and got out of his powerful Ford cruiser. He started toward me. I opened the door and put my foot on the pavement.

“Please, sir,” he commanded. “Stay in the vehicle.”

As he spoke a vision in a long black skirt and fitted white blouse materialized in the mirror.

“Officer,” I overheard her as she approached the policeman. “This poor man must have been at the hospital. We have a very sick friend and Robert is distraught.”

Who could resist that voice, that face, that figure? I turned to watch the show. The trooper surveyed Courtney like a road map.

“Hello.” He nodded, giving her a generous smile. As he did, she touched the pendant that adorned her neck, then wrapped her long fingers around his arm.

“Well, miss. If you…say…so...” Was it the alcohol? His speech sounded strange and slurred. I tried to focus. He stood, eyes glassy as he stared at her. She turned in my direction, staring at me. A strange glow illuminated her brown eyes. I felt weak and limp. Imagination and alcohol run amok!

“Just to make sure, Officer…Kent.” Courtney turned her attention toward the policeman again. She touched his chest softly. “I’ll drive my friend’s car the last quarter mile. And as you can tell”—she approached him closely and blew softly in his face—“I’m in perfect condition to drive.”

“Ah yes, yes, miss. You certainly are.” He took a clumsy step backward, shaking his head. “That’s fine.” He walked erratically back to his vehicle. “Fine, fine condition,” he repeated, still shaking his head as he nodded and got in.

“You’ve been very kind,” she thanked him and waved as she walked to my car.

“All right, McGregor,” she said between clenched teeth, pushing me. I tried to clear my head as I slid over the gearshift onto the passenger seat. Courtney put the Jaguar into gear and drove it up the driveway and into the garage.

“I waited for you.” She frowned. “Do you know how long I’ve been sitting on the dock?”

I stared at her. “Really…sorry,” I mumbled. “Thanks for help. Whad you do to the cop? He look…hypnotized.” I chuckled.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I tried to save you from being arrested.” She shook her head. “He was right. You should never have been driving. That Michael. Some big brother letting you drive like this.”

I turned and watched that lovely profile, those exquisite ears. “D’you know you have the most beautiful nose?” I mumbled, running my finger over it, grinning. My grin spread. I groped clumsily across the bucket seats and slipped my arms around her.

“Oh, Courtney, Courtney,” I whispered. My nose rested on her shoulder. She smelled so delicious.

“Come on.” She gently pushed me away. “We’re getting you some black coffee.”

Courtney helped me out of the car. I felt the weight of the keys as she dropped them in my pocket. We left the garage. She walked gracefully. I stumbled next to her.

“Look at that.” She stopped and inhaled deeply, pointing as she turned toward the moon. It was almost full, reflecting off her lustrous skin. “Now that’s a sight.”

I stared at her face. “Sure is,” I agreed.

She sighed, resting her hand lightly on my shoulder. “Special things happen on the night of the solstice, the night of the full moon, Robbie. Magical things—things beyond belief.” For a moment her eyes seemed to glow again as she stared at the bright orb. I was ready to swear off alcohol. My imagination was definitely running wild.
She guided me to the dining room and poured a cup of steaming black coffee.

“Ow,” I complained as the hot liquid dribbled down my shirtfront.

“Good God.” She picked up a napkin and wiped the hot liquid. “Did you call her? Your…your girlfriend?” Her question had a stern tone.

I shook my head.

“Just as well. You would have sounded ridiculous. She would have been put off. Come on.” She pushed me toward the endless back lawn and sat down, patting the damp ground next to her. “Look at those stars, Robbie. Aren’t they exquisite?”

“Yeah…in…in…creble…”

The rest was a blur. I had a foggy recollection of her helping me up, guiding me to my room, and putting me to bed. I had a dream in which Courtney lay next to me. I could smell her perfume, her sweet breath on my face, and somewhere in the dream, she kissed me and told me she loved me. Now that was a dream!

****

Courtney lay next to him, reveling in the pleasure of being close, hearing his soft snoring, and inhaling his fragrance. He whispered her name in his sleep. She felt a grin broaden and work across her face. He loved her. She knew it. Robbie was trying desperately to be faithful to the girl in Boston, but Courtney knew she’d won him. She and Robbie were perfect for each other. There would be no need for spells or telepathy. And both sides of her being—the nascent goddess-in-waiting and the lovesick young woman—were overjoyed. She kissed him softly on the lips and whispered, “I love you.”

Slipping out of Robbie’s room, Courtney tiptoed across the courtyard heading for the main house. She smiled as she thought about the highway patrolman. But if the policeman had arrested Robbie, it could have been a disaster. Courtney hated using her ability to control others. Visions of a cheap carnival trickster came to mind.

Had Robbie seen the glow in her eyes? If he had, he’d never remember. He’d been so sweet, so adorable, so loving. She assured herself again that he felt the same attraction she did. He had to!

Once inside she walked to Jonathan’s office and opened the door, peering down the vacant hallway and casting a cautious glance as she stepped inside. Courtney needed the telephone. Badly. Picking up the receiver, she heard the operator’s voice crackling through the line. Just as she was about to speak, the door opened. Jonathan stood facing her.

“What do you want?” he asked with a frown. “Anything wrong?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“Calling Simon,” she mouthed.

He nodded, returning her smile. “Good.” He crossed the space and sat down in one of the chairs facing the desk. “Mind?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Jon,” she said. “I need to talk to him alone. In private. If you’d be so kind.”

Jonathan frowned. “Is there a problem? I see you tucked your friend in after saving him from the police.”

She stared at him as she played with her hair.

He stared for a moment, then stood, his round face showing irritation. Jon was used to getting his way. There was a bit of the spoiled child in him.

“Yes, things are going all right,” she said, not quite sure she felt that confident. “I need to talk to Simon in private,” she repeated in a whisper, giving him an engaging smile. “Please?”

He nodded. She knew he was cross. “You and Simon are running this show, Courtney. But keep us in the loop. A play is only as good as the supporting cast.”

Courtney tapped the phone and spoke into the handset. After a long delay, she asked for the overseas operator and when the woman came on the line gave the woman Simon’s number.

“Hello. Courtney?” he answered on the first ring. His rich baritone always inspired confidence in Courtney. But something was different. An edge to his voice. Something guarded.

“Hello, Simon. Sorry to call at this hour.” She checked her watch. It was almost three in the morning in the small Welsh hamlet Simon ruled over.

“How are things progressing?” he asked.

“According to plan.” She stopped and inhaled deeply. “But…it’s proving more difficult than I thought,” she confessed. “Something’s happened. Something I had no way of anticipating.”

“Really?” He paused. She heard the sound of muffled voices on Simon’s end. “Something too difficult for you?”

She sighed, her eyes gazing at the austere portraits surrounding her.

“Are you all right?” he re-phrased his question.

“I will be. After Friday evening.”

“What’s troubling you, my dear?” he asked.

She was certain he already knew. Courtney brought her eyes back to the desk, playing with her hair as she studied the blotter. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“
Courtney?
” He spoke in a strained whisper. “We can have no secrets from one another.”

“I’ve grown very fond of him.” She stopped, adding, “More so than I anticipated.”

“I see. But of course you’ll not let that affect our plans.”

“Of course not. I undertand,” she assured her mentor. “But it means taking him away from everything in his life. All he holds dear. I have no idea what that may do to him or how he’ll feel about me when it’s over.” She sighed. “But I’ll do what I have to. You know that.”

He was silent. “I know you will. We knew sacrifices would be involved. You can still use a spell on him. He’ll never remember what happened.”

“
No!
” she insisted. “No spells.” She stopped, knowing Simon understood. Courtney wanted Robert to be her partner without spells and magic. Wanted him to be with
her
, not under some bloody spell.

He was silent for a moment, then continued, “Now, I’ll be there on Sunday. Courtney, there can be no slipups. You do know that.” He let it go.

Courtney needed no reminder of how important this was. She thought of mankind’s strife and cruelty in the twentieth century. Without the ritual, the prophecy foretold the evil would continue and grow worse.

But Courtney was worried. She knew her mentor. Too well. Had never failed to read his moods, with or without her powers. And now, she sensed he was hiding something. It reinforced her misgivings from earlier in the day. She had the feeling he was holding something back.

“Simon. Is everything all right on your end? Nothing you want to tell me?”

“Everything’s fine,” he said a little too quickly. His words had a hollow ring. “Good night.” He hung up abruptly.

Courtney stood, frustrated, angry, and more than a little frightened.

Chapter Twelve

“Oh,” I groaned. The knock grew louder.

“Mr. McGregor, are you in there?” I recognized the housekeeper’s voice.

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I’m here,” I answered, checking my watch. My head felt the size of a watermelon, my mouth like the inside of a riding boot.

Nine-forty-five. I never slept this late.

“I have a telephone message for you. From a Mr. Michael McGregor.”

Michael!
I jumped out of bed, scrambling for my robe. He must have found something. I opened the door, putting my hand over my mouth. I didn’t want the woman to faint.

She smiled and handed me a slip of paper:
Got something important. Call me back as soon as possible. Mike.

“Thanks.” I smiled and backed into the room. I sat on the bed, trying to remember the evening. The conversation with Michael was clear enough. The drive home foggy. But I remembered the policeman and Courtney’s Academy Award performance. I had a memory of something odd about the way he acted, but it was hazy. She drove my car, got me coffee, a vague recollection of the moon, something strange about her eyes, and memories of the backyard. It was difficult to separate fact from fantasy.

I rose, trudged to the bathroom and took three aspirin. I hopped into the shower, shaved, and spent ten minutes brushing my teeth and gargling with Listerine before heading to the house.

Heading across the courtyard, I hoped Jon’s office was free. I shielded my eyes against the sun and my hangover. The heat and humidity had returned, but talking with Michael was my mission.

I waved and nodded to the guests sitting around the pool. Entering the main hallway, I heard someone playing a classical piece. Chopin. The pianist was exceptional. The music stopped. I stole a quick look inside.

There were no lights on, but the large ballroom was illuminated by light from the east-facing windows. Someone sat at the spectacular grand piano. I was about to leave when the pianist launched into Debussy’s
La Mer
. I stepped into the room. The artist stopped and turned. Courtney stared at me, her face in shadow.

I applauded. She stood and approached, head tilted. “Please stop it,” she ordered. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“You’re wonderful.”

She stopped in midstride and studied my face as she narrowed her eyes. The hint of a smile worked across her face.

“I’ve had lots of practice and some very special teachers.”

“Really. How long have you been playing?”

“Seems like forever.” She wore a distant look.

I held up my hand. “Don’t get too close.”

“Don’t be silly,” she whispered, closing the distance between us.

She stood in front of me, looking perfect again. She wore a plaid skirt, dark-green knee socks, and a long-sleeved blouse. Today her medallion hid behind a dark scarf that matched her socks. She saw me staring and touched it.

“Courtney, I’m sorry about last night. And I wasn’t joking. You really don’t want to get close this morning. I did my best with Listerine, but I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Actually you were very sweet
last night. I like you that way. You let your guard down.” Her eyes sparkled as she searched my face.

“Oh. I hope I didn’t do or say…”

Her fingers touched my lips. I closed my eyes, inhaling her jasmine scent.

“You were perfect. The proper gentleman throughout.” She squeezed my hand.

I offered her a cigarette. “It may kill the smell of the alcohol.”

Laughing, she took one as I lit it. “Don’t punish yourself.” She passed it back to me. “Remember, you’re chumming around with a girl who spends her time sweating on the back of a horse or mucking out stalls.” She grinned and held her nose. I smiled, wondering what would happen when this magical fantasy ended.