Night Magic Read Online Free PDF Page B

long as he knew what it looked like. Keelan, the artist, got an ability to . . . well, what would you call it? Remake reality, like an illusion you couldn’t escape. And so it went. Tristram drew energy from the earth to power machines. Maggie could Calm people or animals right into a coma practically. And there was Brian, of course. Way larger than life.
    Jane . . . wasn’t. Why had Drew latched on to her all those years ago? Drew, who was so urbane and dramatic, had no need of plain Jane. An audience? A backdrop for her beauty? But that wasn’t all it was. Drew was generous to a fault, a staunch defender of her mousey friend, under that demeanor of drawling sophistication. The Tremaines took Jane in and enveloped her in love without a second thought.
    Jane was thirty now. She should be moving on. But how could she? Her mother kept her here, of course, but there was also Kemble’s pain. She couldn’t leave him stranded in despair. She’d tried to comfort him once, just as a friend. Hadn’t done any good. Why would he listen to someone who didn’t have magic? But she wanted to do something for him.
    Her only consolation was that no one had any idea she was in love with him. Being part of the wallpaper for so long had its advantages.
    So, here she was, in limbo, the life she led torn and tattered, but no way to change it. She’d never been a force for change anyway. Wallpaper never was.
    The hills to the east of the house obscured the dawn, but the sky was definitely lightening. Maybe a shower would relax her enough to get a couple of hours of sleep.
     
    *****
     
    Kemble sleepwalked through the next day. He had a head, of course, after how much Scotch it had taken to numb him to the celebration and pass out so he wouldn’t dream. The house was back to normal, all the tables and chairs for the party removed, the trash bins full to overflowing. Back in the conference room of the office wing, Kemble had a call with the curator and the contractor on the game plan for security at the exhibit of eighth-century artifacts at the museum. The Tremaines were sponsoring the opening event on Friday night. The artifacts, on loan from countries all over the world, would be coming in during the next days, and security had to be tight. The Tremaines would normally have gone to the opening gala themselves, but these days that was impossible.
    In the afternoon, Kemble was back at the task of looking for Talismans. They were replicas of the suits of the tarot, which Merlin also invented. So with the Wand and the Sword found (and in Morgan’s hands in spite of their best efforts), he knew the two remaining artifacts must be a Cup and a Pentacle. Who knew what a Pentacle even was? On the tarot cards his mother used pentacles were depicted as coins with five-pointed stars on them. But there were no coins of that description he could find. That tarot card design was done only in this century, so a pentacle might have been something else entirely in Merlin’s day.
    He felt sorry for Merlin. All that magic, and he couldn’t pass it to his progeny. It dissipated into the gene pool and was lost. Well, almost lost. It still lurked in the DNA of his descendants. Why it was coming back together now, after more than fifteen hundred years, Kemble didn’t know. But it was drawing those who had the magic together to create offspring with even more magic. Maybe it was just the right time. Lord knew the world needed magic. Too bad it wouldn’t get any from Kemble Tremaine.
    Kemble was just depressed. Who knew what Morgan Le Fay (as she called herself, after her ancestor) could do if she possessed all the artifacts that amplified her power and those of her followers? Kemble’s failure might cost the Tremaines their lives. What would it cost the world?
    By six, he was ready to pack it in. Michael and Drew had emerged from the library. Drew looked pale and Michael was hovering. Had she drunk that much at the wedding, or was she having visions