For Love or Magic Read Free

breath, my entire body vibrating with nerves as the thought occurred to me.
    The knob is made of metal.
    A painful jolt of fear ran through me, and I stepped back from the door. My magic was gone. It was gone-gone, had been gone for sixteen years and it wasn’t coming back.
    â€œThen what’s it gonna hurt to try?” Judd asked from over my shoulder.
    I shot him a sideways glance. “You don’t know about the magic. I never told you. So shut up.”
    He grinned at me, and my heart soared a bit, but I couldn’t tell whether the flutter was coming from the memory of Judd’s intoxicating smile or the momentary power fantasy of having my magic back and not having to dig through the truck to find my tools.
    I shook out my hands, released a sharp breath, and closed my eyes. I could feel the workings inside the knob. I’d locked up my ability to manipulate metal, but I hadn’t lost my connection to the element. A piece had broken loose inside the mortise latch; I could turn that knob all day and it wouldn’t do a damn thing. It happened sometimes with old lock assemblies. Most likely, the cleaning people had shut the door too hard when they’d left, and the lock had finally broken down in protest. Or maybe the house had already made up its mind about me, and the verdict wasn’t good.
    But either way, I was going to need my tools. I pushed up from my knees and headed out, Judd calling out after me, “What? You’re not even going to try?”
    â€œSix years trying to get the truth out of you taught me not to attempt the impossible,” I shot over my shoulder at him.
    I went out to the truck, got my beat-up old toolbox from behind the driver’s seat, and spent the next fifteen minutes dismantling the lock assembly while Seamus slobbered over my shoulder.
    I got the door open, pushed through it, and my breath caught. The room had white beadboard wainscoting and yellow walls and gleaming wood floors and it was …
    â€œBeautiful,” I breathed.
    Right in the middle of the back wall was the refurbished white-painted cast-iron bed I’d had delivered from the local antiques shop. I’d been charmed by the picture on the website, by the shiny exposed metal springs, by the idea that I could love it even after everyone else had abandoned it. I’d spent way more money than I should have on an old-fashioned feather mattress to go with it, which had also been delivered and was leaned up against the wall, still in its plastic wrapping.
    I walked over to it and ripped off the plastic in a frenzy, then hauled the mattress over and, with some effort, got it onto the bed.
    â€œWhat do you think, Seamus?” I said, looking back at the dog who had finally found his way to the room. “It’s okay, right?”
    Seamus walked over to the bed, sniffed the mattress, and curled up on the floor next to the bed.
    â€œI don’t care what you say,” I said, “it’s gonna be—”
    â€œGreat, baby,” Judd said from behind me, hijacking the last of my sentence. “You and me, on an adventure, the way it was supposed to be.”
    I turned and there he was, leaning against the doorjamb, looking sexy as hell, his black hair ruffled and his smile just as crooked and bent as his soul. And stupid me, I wanted him back. I wanted his arms around me and I wanted him in my bed and I wanted to believe in the beautiful lies he spun for me, my own corrupted Rumpelstiltskin spinning gold from bullshit. I missed him so much it hurt, and I hated him so much that I wished he could come back to life just so I could kill him myself.
    â€œYou’re not allowed in here,” I said, and shut the door in his face while his mouth was opening to form a reply. I kicked off my shoes, stepped over Seamus, and settled down onto my new old bed, groaning with exhausted delight before falling into a dead sleep.
    *   *   *
    The dream started