17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
T hree hours later, Stone stepped out onto the balcony, the brisk air contrasting sharply with the steam that wafted from the bathroom. He quickly dialed Clarabelle, his connection to a world beyond the ordinary.
“Wasn’t expecting to get a ring from you this evening,” Clarabelle said instead of hello. “What’s troubling you?”
Now that Clarabelle was back in their lives, he and his brothers had a routine. Each of them was assigned two nights a week to call and check on her, making sure she hadn’t crossed over without a goodbye. On Sundays, they either ate dinner together, if Clarabelle was nearby, or they did a Zoom chat after dinner.
“My magic is still glitching,” Stone told her.
Several years ago, Stone and his brothers had discovered that Clarabelle had been an honest-to-goodness fairy godmother when she was alive. Then, when she had died, she’d gotten stuck in the second veil due to unfinished business.
They had been her unfinished business.
She’d had plans to train them to become Fairy Godfathers, but had died before she got around to rocking their world with her secret. Because Fairy Godmothers were on the verge of becoming extinct, Clarabelle had been granted time in the second veil to finish her unfinished business.
Now, Clarabelle was a Magical ghost, and even though her unfinished business had been accomplished, she’d finagled a way to stay longer in the second veil. The details of the persuading were not up for discussion.
“Oh, fiddle-faddle,” Clarabelle said. “Tell me everything.” Her voice was calm, which told him his news wasn’t unexpected. “Is it your wand? Is it refusing to behave?” she asked.
“So far, so good with Bravo Baton.” His wand was currently tucked away in his go bag. The last time he had tried to conjure something with it, he’d succeeded. “It’s Sophie. Shit is still happening every time we touch.”
Clarabelle tsked. “The same kind of shit? Or new shit?”
He chuckled at her use of swear words. As a rule, she disdained the little fuckers. “Most recently, I got this surge of energy I couldn’t control, and the lights flickered.”
Sophie had no idea just how right she’d been the other night when she’d told him control was his fatal flaw. But not in the way she assumed. Magic in the hands of a person not in control could become fatal. Thus, staying in control was essential.
Clarabelle’s response to his dilemma was silence. Not a good sign.
He’d hoped for a laugh and a pithy comment about how magic just sometimes had to wiggle and scratch its backside. “Mom?” he prompted.
“And is it your injured hand you’re touching Sophie with when this happens?” she finally inquired.
He leaned against the railing and stared up at the full moon. “Not always.”
“Hmm. What a kettle of worms that presents.”
“What?” Stone asked.
“It appears the spell I cast to heal your wound didn’t take.”
“Then this can be fixed. You can recast your spell?”
“No. That’s not possible. It was a one-and-done type of spell.”
“I’m not sure I understand what my wound has to do with anything. I was under the impression all my prior glitches were because of the damage done to my wand. That’s why every spell I tried to cast went sideways.”
“It wasn’t a bad impression to live under,” Clarabelle mused. “Unfortunately, we were wrong.”
He closed his eyes. “Do you have any new theories on the problem?” During the two and a half months he had taken off before reconvening as Sophie’s bodyguard, he’d been under the care of Clarabelle, who had reset his magic…so to speak.
And while that was taking place, she had also obtained the address of Zuberi the Enchanter, a wand wizard in Africa. Bravo Baton had been sent to him to fix. The black and gold wand had been blown in half by a bullet, and Clarabelle had been unable to put it back together with her own magic.
“It sounds like when the bullet went through your wand and grazed your finger,” Clarabelle said, “the magic in your wand formed a new conduit through your injury. It’s rare but not unheard of for magic to seek out a new balance in this way. Zuberi and I were under the assumption it still maintained all its magic.”
Stone sighed. “You’re going to have to explain this in layman’s terms.”
“It’s possible that the original magic from your wand now resides inside of you, and it is resonating with Sophie,” Clarabelle said. “Is she by any chance a Magical? Like a fairy?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Stone glanced inside Sophie’s apartment making sure she hadn’t exited the bathroom. This was not a conversation he wanted her to overhear. “I mean, she’s quite fanciful in her approach to life, and would definitely make a much better fairy godmother than the guys and I have, but—”
“Nonsense,” Clarabelle snapped. “Making the three of you fairy godfathers was the best thing I’ve done in this realm. You boys will be great once you’re not so green. Magic takes effort and practice, just like getting all those muscles the lot of you like to flex took time and patience and work.”
Stone’s hand clenched around the phone. He abhorred being green. “If the original magic now resides in me, how is Bravo Baton still able to conjure?”
“The most likely answer is it’s not. You’re the one doing the magic, Bravo is now simply a prop.”
The information tasted sour. “You’re saying I got my wand assassinated?”
“Possibly. Another theory, one I find fascinating and will research, is that Zuberi filled it with new, more powerful, magic.”
Stone recalled the note that had been included in the box holding Bravo Baton when it had been returned to him:
I trust this finds you well. In your hands, you will find your faithful companion rejuvenated and ready for new adventures. May it serve you with the strength of a lion and wisdom of an ancient baobab.
Handle it with care, for it holds the spirit of the savannah and power of the mountains.
The last line now took on a whole other message. One that leaned toward Clarabelle’s second option for his wand. “Let’s get back to my wand’s original magic.”
“I couldn’t agree more aggressively. Let’s stay focused on the current delectable dilemma,” Clarabelle said.
“It is your theory that Bravo Baton’s original magic now lives inside of me,” Stone said, speaking slowly as he wrapped his brain around the thought. “And it thinks Sophie and I should…be together?”
“Aren’t you just the cutest thing, being so whimsical?” Clarabelle gave off a soft laugh that sounded exactly like what a Fairy Godmother’s laugh should sound like. Light and happy.
One he and his brothers needed to find a manly version of, so they didn’t initially frighten their new clients upon first meeting. Especially the younger ones. Their last assignment, the one they’d learned about at Sunday night’s dinner—the one Ryder had described as complicated—had been to help a woman survive finding out her best friend had a social media account where all she did was make fun of her. A best friend she was about to give a kidney to.
“I do believe Sophie, and her love of all things romantic, is rubbing off on you,” Clarabelle continued.
“Mom, answer my question, please.”
“Oh. Yes. That,” Clarabelle said. “What was the question again?”
“Do you believe that my magic thinks Sophie and I should be together?” Stone repeated.
“Dear, magic doesn’t think. But it does sense and align with powerful energies. If it reacts around Sophie, it could mean your paths are deeply intertwined.”
He rubbed his temples with his free hand. “Like soul mates?”
“Possibly, but honestly, it is also feasible that the two of you have a nonromantic connection. All the glitching suggests is that it’s a significant bond,” Clarabelle explained. “The nature of that bond is up to the two of you to figure out.”
Relief hit him like a cold blast of winter air. “If it’s up to me, then nope. Nothing to see here. Just two adults thrown together by circumstances.”
“Well, there you have it. You’ve answered your own question.”
Stone’s sixth sense told him Clarabelle had capitulated too easily. “But what if it does mean a relationship?” He stood and paced. “I’m here to protect her, not to get involved. Not to mention, I’m not at all interested in love. I’m a forever bachelor.” While he now freely admitted to himself he was besotted with Sophie, his reason for remaining single remained more valid than ever. He wasn’t husband material.
“Magic doesn’t give two cents about your multitude of nots,” Clarabelle said sharply, a sure sign she still wasn’t in the mood to accept the fact that all three of her boys were confirmed forever bachelors.
“You’re saying, I won’t have a choice?” Stone asked. “That it can make me fall in love with Sophie?”
“Of course it can’t make you. You have free will,” Clarabelle said. “I mean, if it was possible to use magic to make you fall in love, I would have done it by now. So much easier than—” She stopped abruptly.
“Than what?”
“If you don’t want to fall in love, I suggest you remain vigilant,” Clarabelle said, not answering his question. “Keep your emotions in check. Stay out of situations that give you an opportunity to fall in love.”
“Like moving in with Sophie?” he said ruefully.
“Exactly like that,” Clarabelle said.
“Fuck.”
Clarabelle tsked. “If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a hundred times, Fairy Godpersons don’t curse.”
“My apologies. It’s just that as of this evening, I am living with Sophie.”
There was a long pause. “What, may I ask, precipitated this change in your address?”
“She’s had a viable threat against her. Until it is neutralized, we will be together twenty-four hours a day.”
“Well. That is a big pickle,” Clarabelle said, sounding way too cheerful. “On the food-for-thought side concerning your magic, there’s a slight chance that what is going on is a test of your worthiness to continue having your powers. You did, after all, allow your wand to be injured, which resulted in it losing its original magic.”
“Fu…fiddle sticks,” Stone said, trying out Clarabelle’s favorite curse word.
“Much better, dear.”
“Do you think I should turn in my wand and get out of the fairy godfather business?”
More tsking. “Did I not tell you during boot camp that there is no leaving the business?”
“You did not.”
“Anyway, what’s at stake is the magnitude of your wand’s new power. I’ve never known of a wand that had to be sent off to be fixed. Only time will tell if it holds new magic. And if it does, is it greater, or greatly less than what you were given upon completion of bootcamp?”
“You’re saying I’m at risk of having a limp wand?”
Clarabelle chuckled. “It’s possible. But before you get all caught up in what-ifs, just remember that what happened to your wand was not a result of neglect. The powers-that-be will take that into consideration.”
“Who exactly are the powers-that-be?” She had mentioned the council a few times over the last month but had refused to tell him who served on the committee.
“That is not something I wish to discuss,” she said primly. “The only thing that’s important from this point forward is for you to remember that you control your actions, not the magic. What you do or do not do with Sophie during your time of forced proximity is your call. Your decisions cannot be blamed on your magic.”
“In other words, I’m to keep it in my pants.”
“Yes. Your penis should stay in your pants.”
He groaned. That was never a phrase you wanted to hear your mother say. “I’m worried that all these glitches will bring danger to Sophie. Perhaps I should hand the job off to Ryder.”
“Nonsense. You are a professional,” Clarabelle said. “Focus on the job. The rest will sort itself out in due time.”
Stone sighed. “I’ve got to get off here. I love you. Good night.”
Stone hung up the phone and lingered on the balcony a bit longer, sweeping his gaze over the street Sophie lived on. What if magic could force two people together? What if he had no choice but to fall in love with Sophie, and her him? Would that be so terrible?
It would be for her. She’d made it abundantly clear he wasn’t her type. And she deserved someone who lived a safe existence.
He turned to head back inside and caught sight of Sophie emerging from the bedroom. She was clad in short pajamas that showcased her long, slim legs, an image that momentarily scattered his thoughts.
“The shower’s all yours,” she said, her voice light as she opened the balcony doors wider and leaned casually against one. “I took a quick one, so there should be plenty of hot water left. Tomorrow, you can go first. I’ll make up the couch while you’re showering.”
Stone edged past her, careful not to make any contact that might spark another unintended magical display, and glanced over his shoulder at the couch—it was barely five feet long. “Don’t bother setting it up. I’ll make a pallet on the floor.”
“It’s no bother at all, and I was planning on taking the couch and letting you have the bed,” Sophie said, her tone both firm and accommodating.
“That’s not happening on my watch,” Stone replied.
“Because you’re a gentleman and a gentleman wouldn’t kick a lady out of her bed?” she asked.
About to agree, he recalled his need to cut any romantic notions off at the head. Both hers and his. “Because all the entries to the apartment are out here in the living room. Otherwise, I’d take that bed in a minute. I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ve slept on plenty of hard surfaces in my life.”
Not waiting for a rebuttal, he retreated to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. A groan escaped him as he leaned against it for a moment, his mind replaying the sight of her pajamas adorned with scenes from Cinderella.
Good God, even her sleepwear is whimsical.
A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. The juxtaposition of her quirky attire and his grim resolve underscored the stark contrasts in their worlds—a fairytale and a battlefield.