Enchanted Again. Robin D. Owens

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СКАЧАТЬ Death cursed.

       Yes, that might be very exclusive, too, but not a group anyone would want to belong to. And she should remind herself that whether he believed in curses or not, most of his male forebears had died before they were thirty-three. He was thirty-two.

       That would certainly weigh heavily on her. Almost as heavily as Tiro’s doomsaying.

       They left the coffeehouse in silence and began walking back to Mystic Circle. They were away from the storefronts and into the residential area before he spoke again. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my curse?” His smile was sharp.

       “No.”

       “It was a gypsy woman—”

       She lifted her brows. “Really?”

       “That’s the story. Really common story, isn’t it? What else would someone say if you talked about such a crazy thing? Hell, who else did curses? But we don’t have much in the way of histories, stories or notes. Too many deaths in the family.” His expression was shadowed again, dim with brooding. “I was five when my dad died. He and Mom were estranged.” Another quick smile, this one humorless. “Though they got together a few months before he died—long enough to make my brother, Gabe.”

       “I’m sorry. How did he die?”

       “Hit-and-run car accident.”

       “Even worse.”

       “Yeah. It was bad. Lived with my great uncle after that.” Rafe glanced at her. “’Til my teens. Then he and Mom decided I’d be better off in an academy. That wasn’t too bad. It was European and we were all into sports.” He chuckled. “I’m not too bad of a polo player.”

       “Uh-huh. Is your mother still living?”

       His athletic stride became stiffer, she didn’t think he’d noticed. “Yes. She’s not in our lives. Never really wanted to be. What of your own parents?”

       Well, she’d asked him. But she was the genealogist and interested in families. She didn’t know why he’d ask about hers except it was small talk people did when they were attracted to each other. Though she couldn’t gauge how much he was interested in her. He might like looking at her, but she wasn’t in his league—any of his leagues—and didn’t think she’d care to be. Didn’t guys like him date supermodels or minor European royalty?

       “I never knew my father. My mother and aunt died when I was about six, and I was brought up by distant cousins.” Well-paid relatives who hadn’t loved her, not as much as she sensed his uncle and brother loved Rafe.

       “Huh. Something we have in common.”

       “I guess so,” she said. They stopped at the sidewalk leading up to her house. She gestured with the tube. “I’ll start work on Conrad’s lineage tomorrow. I have another job I need to finish first.” Rafe was looking down at her with intent eyes, as if, for the first time, he was seeing her instead of some gypsy psychic woman taking advantage of his desperate friend.

       She wasn’t sure that she liked him looking at her as if he were interested. She should definitely not get too close to this guy and his curse. “Due to the circumstances, I won’t be putting Conrad’s family tree online, unless you notify me that he—or you—want it public to try to garner additional information.” Rafe was still staring at her. “Your family tree is already online and public, but the living are masked except on my pro databases. Do you want me to add information and comments to the public database, or not?”

       That query clunked a bit as they stared at each other. Would he still be living in eight months?

       He took a step back and his expression became more guarded, his smile casual with a lack of sincerity, a flash of hurt in his eyes. “I’m sure my brother and uncle would appreciate that.” Rafe nodded toward the tube. “Gabe sent that to me.”

       She nodded. “And maybe, since Conrad is soon to be out of the country, I could have your contact information? Since you want reports and all. If your brother didn’t provide you with an account name and password for the database, I can do that for you, too.”

       He ran his hand through his hair, his smile turned lopsided. “I did bring a tablet computer. I was staying with Conrad. Don’t know that I’ll remain there. He wouldn’t mind, but it’s a cold place.” He shifted his balance, as if uneasy, something she didn’t think he usually did. “I should be windsurfing in Tarifa, not here.”

       “Up to you. Think about it and email me or call.” She handed him her card and started up the sidewalk to home. It looked good, a sanctuary from scariness. Death curses, lost children…men who’d been lost children. “I’ll have your first report in about three days. Then we can update weekly. Naturally, the farther back we go, the slower it gets. I’ll let you know if I have to travel on site anywhere.” A quick business smile and she slipped in the door, shut it behind her with a sigh and leaned back against it, closing her eyes.

       “You gonna break his curse and die?” Tiro said.

       She jumped, clapped a hand to her chest. Talk about scary weirdness.

       Tiro said, “You shouldn’t even associate with him. Just going to lead to trouble. I tell you that right now.”

       “Where are the puppies? I prefer their greeting.”

       “They wanted out,” he said. “Nice pups. You know if you break a big curse while you’re emotionally attached to them, they’ll die, too. Dogs age even faster than humans.”

       That made her insides clench and hurt. “I know.” She could feel blood drain from her face as memories of dying pets stabbed her. She glared at Tiro. “I learned that the hard way. It would have been nice to have someone around to let me know such consequences.”

       “I thought Tshilaba left journals. She’d worked on them long enough.”

       “Journals! Plural? I only have one, and it doesn’t tell me very much.”

       Tiro whistled and the back door slammed open and the puppies raced in. For the first time, the morning tilted into balance as she hugged and scratched them. This is what mattered—loving, being loved.

       Helping mattered, too, but not at the cost of loving.

       “So,” Tiro said. “Can I help you with the chocolate pie?”

       “Can you help me with my magic?”

       He scowled and shuffled his feet. “I helped in the beginning for the first five women. Didn’t work, no matter how I tried. I’ve a binding to serve you. Can help or not. But you don’t learn, none of you.” He pounded his chest and it was like an echo against rock, then he pointed a four-jointed finger—the brownies all had four-jointed fingers—at her.

       “You have a binding, too. Your elf Cumulustre blood gives you magic, but being human limits it. You drain yourself for others. That isn’t healthy. That’s your great lesson. And none of you women have learned it.” He threw up his hands. “Why are you all so stupid?” With a last glower, he disappeared.

       Shaken, Amber let the puppies knock her on her rump, accepted doggie kisses. She let emotion storm through her, past regrets…and current fears.

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