Key of Light

Chapter Seventeen

Malory knew what was going on. Nobody wanted her to be alone, and her new friends were worried about her. Zoe had been so enthusiastic about the brainstorm of an all-girl sleepover that Malory hadn't been able to refuse.

The very fact that she'd wanted to refuse, had wanted to burrow into her cave alone, forced her to admit she needed a change.

She'd never been a loner, nor had she been much of a brooder in the past. When she was troubled, she went out, saw people. Bought things, gave a party.

Zoe's request for an all-nighter gave Malory the push to do all of that. She bought food and pretty new candles with citrusy scents. And fragrant soaps and fussy new guest towels, then some good wine.

She cleaned the apartment she'd been neglecting, spilled spicy potpourri into bowls. And groomed herself in the meticulous way that women groomed for other women.

By the time Dana arrived, she had cheese and fruit and fancy crackers set out, the candles lit and music set on low.

"Wow, pretty elegant around here. I should've dressed up some."

"You look great." Determined to be cheerful, Malory leaned in to kiss Dana's cheek. "I appreciate you guys doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Hanging out with me, giving me a boost. I've been feeling down the last couple of days."

"None of us figured on the energy drain this deal would be." She passed Malory a grocery bag, then set down her overnight case. "I bought extra supplies. Wine, Cheez-Its, chocolate truffles, and popcorn. You know, the four basic food groups." Dana flipped through the movie selection next to the entertainment center. "Did you rent every chick flick ever made?"

"Every one currently available on DVD. How about some wine?'

"You don't have to twist my arm. New perfume?"

"No, must be the candles."

"Nice. That's Zoe. Better pour another glass."

Zoe came in through the patio doors, loaded down with bags. "Cookies," she said a little breathlessly. "Videos, aromatherapy, and coffee cake for the morning."

"Nice job." Dana took one of the bags from her and handed her a glass of wine. Then she leaned closer and said, "How do you get your lashes to look like that? All sooty and spiky?"

"I'll show you. This is fun. I went by the house today to do some measuring and to look at some samples there in the space and light. I've got wallpaper books and paint chips in the car if we want to look later. Bradley Vane caught me while I was there. What's his story?"

"Golden boy with a social conscience." Dana attacked the Brie. "Star athlete, high school and college. Track a specialty. Honor student but not a nerd. Semi-engaged a couple of times, but always managed to wiggle out before it stuck. Been friends with Flynn just about from birth. Excellent body, which I've been fortunate enough to see through various stages. Interested in seeing it yourself?"

"Not that way. I haven't had much luck with men, so the only one who's going to be in my life for the time being is Simon. Oh, I love this song." She slipped out of her shoes to dance. "So, Mal, how's it going with Flynn?"

"Well, I love him, so it's pretty irritating. I wish I could dance like that."

"Like what?"

"All long legs and loose hips."

"Come on, then." Zoe set her wine down, held out her hands. "We'll work on it. You do one of two things. Pretend nobody's watching or pretend that this guy, this incredibly sexy guy, is watching. Either way, depending on your mood, you just let go."

"How come girls always end up dancing with girls?" Malory wondered as she tried to get her hips to move independent of the rest of her body, as Zoe's seemed to do.

"Because we're better at it."

"Actually," Dana said, helping herself to a little tree of green grapes, "it's a kind of social, sexual ritual. The female performs, tempts, and teases, the male observes, fantasizes, and selects. Or is selected. Jungle drums or the Dave Matthews Band, it comes down to the same thing."

"Are you going to dance?" Malory asked her.

"Sure." Popping one more grape, Dana got up. Hips and shoulders went into a sinuous rhythm as she moved toward Zoe. They slithered into a dance that was, to Malory's mind, both sexy and free.

"Now I'm totally outclassed."

"You're doing fine. Loosen your knees. And speaking of rituals, I have some ideas. But…" Zoe grabbed her wine again. "I think we should have some more wine before I bring it up."

"You can't do that," Dana complained. "I hate that. What's the idea?" She took Zoe's glass, had a hurried sip. "Look, I drank more. Tell me."

"Okay. Let's sit down."

Remembering her role as hostess, Malory brought the wine and the tray of food to the coffee table. "If this ritual has anything to do with leg waxing, I need much more wine first."

"No." Zoe laughed. "But I have an almost painless technique with hot wax. I can give you a Brazilian without anyone shedding a tear."

"A Brazilian?"

“Tidy up the bikini area. It leaves just a neat little strip so you can wear the tiniest thong without looking, well, unkempt."

"Oh." Instinctively Malory folded her hands over her crotch. "Not even if you use morphine and shackles."

"Honest, it's all in the wrist." Zoe explained. "Well, so… back to what I was saying," she continued. "I know we've all been reading and researching and trying to come up with theories and ideas to help Malory find the first key."

"And you've both been great. Really. I just feel like I'm missing something, some little thing that could open it all up."

"Maybe we've all missed something," Zoe countered. "The legend itself. Mortal woman mates with Celtic god and becomes queen. Female power. She has three daughters. Female again. One of their guardians is a female."

"Well, it is a fifty-fifty shot," Dana pointed out. "Even for gods."

"Wait. So when their souls are stolen and trapped by a man , it's said that three mortals, mortal women , have to find and turn the keys."

"Sorry, Zoe, I'm not following you. We already know all this." Malory reached halfheartedly for a grape.

"Let's take it a little further. Gods, in Celtic lore, are, well, earthier than say the Greek or Roman ones. They're more like wizards and sorcerers than… what's the word? Um, omniscient beings. Is that right?" she asked Dana.

"Yeah."

"They have ties to the earth, to nature. Like, well, witches. There's black magic and white, but they both use natural elements and forces. And here's where you sort of have to step out of the box."

"We haven't been in the box since September the fourth," Dana pointed out.

"What if we were chosen because we're… well, because we're witches?" Malory frowned at the level of wine in Zoe's glass. "How much did you have to drink before you got here?"

"No, just think about it. We look like them. Maybe we're somehow related to that… bloodline or something. Maybe we have power, but we just never knew it."

"The legend says mortal women," Malory reminded her.

"Witches aren't necessarily immortal. They're just people with more. I've been reading up. In Wicca the female witch has three stages. The maiden, the mother, the crone. And they pay homage to the goddess. They—"

"Wicca is a young religion, Zoe," Dana said.

"But its roots are old. And three, that's a magic number. There are three of us."

"I really think I'd know if I were a witch." Malory considered it as she sipped her wine. "And if this has somehow escaped my notice for nearly thirty years, what am I supposed to do about it now? Conjure something, cast a spell?"

"Turn Jordan into a horse's ass. Sorry," Dana shrugged when Malory stared at her. "Just daydreaming."

"We could try it. Together. I bought some things." Zoe jumped up, pulled open her bag. "Ritual candles," she said, digging through. "Incense. Table salt."

"Table salt?" Baffled, Malory picked up the dark blue box of Morton's and studied the cheerful girl with her umbrella.

"You can make a protective circle with it. It wards off evil spirits. Ash wands. Sort of wands. I bought a baseball bat and cut it up to make them."

"Martha Stewart meets Glenda the Good Witch." Dana picked up the thin wooden wand, waved it. "Shouldn't it sprinkle fairy dust?"

"Drink more wine," Zoe ordered. "Crystals. Amethyst and rose quartz and this really great ball." She held up the globe.

"Where'd you get all this loot?" Malory demanded.

"New Age shop at the mall. Tarot cards—Celtic ones because it seemed right. And—"

"A Ouija board!" Dana pounced on it. "Man, oh, man, I haven't seen one of these since I was a kid."

"I found it at the toy store. They don't carry them in the New Age place." "We had this pj party when I was a kid. Got all toked up on Pepsi and M&Ms and lit candles. Everybody asked the name of the guy they'd marry. Mine came up PTZBAH." Dana gave a sentimental sigh. "It was really sweet. Let's do the Ouija first," Dana suggested. "For old times' sake."

"Okay, but we've got to do it right. Take it seriously." Zoe rose to turn off the lights and music.

"I wonder if Ptzbah is still out there." Dana slid to the floor, opened the box.

"Wait. We have to set up the ritual. I got a book."

They sat in a circle on the floor.

"We have to cleanse our minds," Zoe instructed. "Visualize opening our chakras."

"I never open my chakras in public." Dana giggled, unrepentant, until Malory slapped her knee.

"And we light the ritual candles. White for purity. Yellow for memory. Purple for power." Zoe bit her lip as she carefully ignited the tapers. "Place the crystals. Amethyst for… shoot." She reached for her book, flipped pages. "Here. Amethyst for intuition. And the incense. Rose quartz for psychic power and divination."

"It's pretty," Malory decided. "Soothing."

"I think we should all take turns with the Tarot cards, and maybe try some chants, but let's make Dana happy and do this first." Zoe set the board between them and placed the pointer in its center.

"We have to concentrate," she said. "Focus our minds and our powers on one question."

"Can it be about the love of my life? I pine for Ptzbah."

"No." Zoe swallowed a laugh and tried to look stern. "This is serious business. We want the location of the first key. Malory should do the asking, but you and I need to think it."

"We should close our eyes." Malory rubbed her fingers on her pants, took a deep breath. "Ready?"

They laid fingertips on the pointer, sat in silence.

"Should we call on the Otherworld or something?" Malory whispered. "Pay our respects, ask for guidance? What?"

Zoe opened one eye. "Maybe you should call on the ones behind the Curtain of Dreams." "Denizens," Dana suggested. “That's a good word. Call on the denizens behind the Curtain of Dreams for guidance."

"Okay, here goes. Everybody quiet, everyone be calm. Concentrate." Malory waited ten seconds in silence. "We call on the denizens behind the Curtain of Dreams, to aid and to guide us in our, um, in our quest."

"Tell them you're one of the chosen ones," Zoe said out of the corner of her mouth and was shushed by Dana.

"I am one of the chosen, one of the seekers of the keys. Time is short. I ask you to show me the way to the key so that we can free the souls of… Dana, no pushing the pointer."

"I'm not. Really."

Mouth dry, Malory opened her eyes and watched the pointer shudder under their fingertips.

"The candles," Zoe whispered. "Oh, jeez, look at the candles."

The flames shot up, a trio of slim gold edged with red. Light began to throb, like a pulse. Something blew cold through the room and set those flames dancing.

"This is wild!" Dana exclaimed. "I mean seriously wild."

"It's moving." The pointer jerked, with Malory's fingers trembling on it. She heard nothing but the roar of blood in her own head as she watched it slide from letter to letter.

YOUR DEATH

Her gasp was still strangled in her throat when the room suddenly burst with light and wind. She heard someone scream, threw up an arm to shield her eyes as a form coalesced out of a whirlpool of air.

The board shattered as if made of glass.

"What are you playing at?" Rowena stood in the center of them, the sharp heel of her shoe digging into a shard of the board. "Have you no more sense than to open a door to such things as you cannot understand or defend against?"

With an annoyed sigh, she stepped gracefully out of the circle and picked up the wine. "I'd like a glass, please."

"How did you get here? How did you know?" Malory pushed herself up on rubbery legs.

"It's fortunate for you that I did both." She picked up the salt, and upended the box over the remains of the board.

"Oh, now, just a damn minute."

"Sweep it up together," Rowena ordered Zoe. "Then burn it. I'd very much appreciate a glass of wine." She handed the bottle to Malory, then sat on the sofa.

Outraged, Malory stalked into the kitchen, yanked a wineglass from the cupboard. She marched back and shoved the glass into Rowena's hand. "I didn't invite you into my home."

"On the contrary, you invited me and whoever else chose to come through the opening."

"Then we are witches."

Rowena's expression changed as she looked over at Zoe's rapt face. "No, not the way you mean." Her tone was more gentle now, patient teacher to eager student. "Though every woman has some magic. Still, together your powers are trebled, and you had just enough skill, just enough desire to issue an invitation. I'm not the only one who answered it. You felt him," she said to Malory. "You've felt him before."

"Kane." She cupped her elbows and shuddered as the memory of the cold seeped into her. "He moved the pointer, not us. He was playing with us."

"He threatened Malory." The thrill forgotten, Zoe was on her feet now. "What are you going to do about it?"

"All I can."

"Maybe that's not good enough." Dana reached up to link her hand with Malory's. "I heard you scream. I saw your face when you did. You felt something Zoe and I didn't, and it was real terror. It was real pain."

"It's the cold. It's… I can't describe it."

"The absence of all warmth," Rowena murmured. "All hope, all life. But he can't touch you unless you allow it."

"Allow it? How the hell did she…" Zoe broke off, looked down at the broken board at her feet. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry. Mal, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. It's not." She took Zoe's hand, so for a moment the three of them were linked.

Seeing them, Rowena smiled into her wine.

"We were looking for answers, and you had an idea. Which is more than I've had the last couple of days. We tried something. Maybe it was the wrong something," she added as she whipped back to Rowena, "but that doesn't give you the right to slap at us for it."

"You're absolutely right. I apologize." She leaned forward to spread Brie on a cracker, then tapped a finger against the Tarot deck. Light flickered over them, then was gone. "These will do you no harm. You may develop a skill for readings, or even find you have a gift for them."

"You…" Zoe pressed her lips together. "If you hadn't come when you did…"

"It's my duty, and my wish, to keep you from harm. When and how I can. Now I should go, leave you to your evening." Rowena rose, looked around the room. "You have a pretty home, Malory. It suits you."

Feeling ungracious and childish, Malory huffed out a breath. "Why don't you stay, finish your wine?"

Surprise ran across Rowena's face. "That's very kind of you. I'd like that. It's been a very long time since I've sat in the company of women. I've missed it."

It wasn't very strange, after the initial awkwardness, to have a woman who'd lived for thousands of years sitting in her living room drinking her wine.

And it became apparent by the time they started on the truffles that women—goddess or mortal—were the same under the skin.

"I rarely fuss with it," Rowena said while Zoe worked her mane of hair into an elegant upsweep. "It's not one of my talents, so I tend to wear it down. I've cut it occasionally, but I always regret it."

"Not everyone can wear it simply as you do, and still look regal."

Rowena studied herself in the hand mirror as Zoe worked, then tilted the glass to study her stylist. "I'd love to have your hair. It's so striking."

"Couldn't you? I mean if you wanted to look a certain way, couldn't you just…" Zoe fluttered her fingers and made Rowena laugh.

"That isn't my gift."

"What about Pitte?" Dana rolled over on the couch. "What's his deal?"

"He's a warrior, full of pride and arrogance and will. He's maddening and exciting." She lowered the mirror.

"Zoe, you're an artist."

"Oh, I just like playing with hair." She stepped in front of Rowena and released a few tendrils around her face. "A great look for that important board meeting or the after-Oscars bash. Sexy, female, and powerful. Well, you give that off no matter what the do."

"Excuse me, but I just have to ask," said Dana, "what's it like to be with the same guy for, well, basically forever?"

"He's the only man I want," Rowena answered.

"Oh, come on, come, on. You've got to have had a few hundred fantasies about other men in the last couple of millennia."

"Of course." Rowena set the mirror down, and her lips bowed into a dreamy smile. "There was a young waiter once, in Rome. Such a face and form. With eyes so dark it seemed I could see worlds drowning in them. And he served me coffee and a bun. He called me bella donna with such a knowing smile. While I ate my bun I imagined biting into his tasty bottom lip."

She pressed her own together, then laughed. "I painted him in my studio, and let him flirt with me outrageously. And when I nudged him along after a session, I would drag Pitte away from whatever he might be doing and seduce him."

"You never cheated."

"I love my man," Rowena said simply. "We're bound, body, heart, soul. There's magic in that, more potent than any spell, more wicked than any curse." She reached up, laid a hand over Zoe's. "You loved a boy, and he gave you a son. For that, you'll always love him, even though he was weak and betrayed you."

"Simon's my world."

"And you've made it a bright and loving world. I so envy you your child. You." She rose, stepped closer to trail her fingers over Dana's hair. "You loved one who was no longer a boy, yet not quite a man. For that, you've never forgiven him."

"Why should I?"

"There's a question," Rowena replied.

"What about me?" Malory asked, and Rowena sat on the arm of the sofa, touched a hand to her shoulder.

"You love the man so much, so fast and fierce, it makes you doubt your own heart. For that, you can't trust him."

"How can I trust what doesn't make sense?"

"As long as you need to ask, you won't have the answer." She leaned down, pressed her lips to Malory's brow. "Thank you for having me in your home, for sharing yourselves with me. Here, take this."

She held out her hand, offered Malory the pale blue stone in the palm. "What is it?"

"A small charm. Put it under your pillow tonight. You'll sleep well. I must go." She smiled a little, lifting her hand to her hair as she rose and crossed to the glass door. "I wonder what Pitte will think pf my hair. Good night." She opened the door and slipped into the night.

Zoe waited three seconds, then scurried to the door. Framing her face with her hands, she pressed it close to the glass. "Shoot. I thought she'd go poof or something, but she's just walking. Like a normal person."

"She seems pretty normal." Dana shifted around to reach the popcorn. "You know, for a goddess with a few thousand years under her belt."

"But sad." Malory turned the blue stone over in her hand. "There's all that sophistication and cool amusement on the surface, but there's this terrible sadness under it. She meant it when she said she was envious of you for having Simon, Zoe."

"It's funny to think about." Zoe wandered back, chose a brush, a rat-tail comb, and pins, then moved behind the sofa. "She lives in that big, well, castle, really, with all those beautiful things." She began to brush Dana's hair. "And she's beautiful, even wise, I think. She's rich and has a man she loves. She's traveled and she can paint those wonderful pictures."

Dividing sections of Dana's hair, she began to braid. "But she envies someone like me because I have a kid. Do you think she can't have children? I didn't want to ask, it's so personal. But I wonder why she couldn't. If she can do all the things she can do, why couldn't she have a baby?"

"Maybe Pitte doesn't want to have kids." Dana shrugged her shoulders. "Some people don't. What're you doing back there, Zoe?"

"New do. I'm mixing some skinny braids in. It should be young and kicky. Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Want to have kids?"

Dana munched popcorn and considered. "Yeah. I'd like to have a couple. I figure if I don't find a guy I can stand being with for the long term in the next few years, I'll just do it on my own. You know, make love with medical science."

"You'd do that?" Fascinated, Malory reached into the bowl. "Raise a child on your own. I mean, on purpose," she added, looking up at Zoe. "You know what I mean."

"Sure, I would." Dana settled the bowl between them. "Why not? I'm healthy. I think I'd be good at the parenting thing, that I have a lot to offer a kid. I'd want to make sure I had solid financial security first, but if I'm cruising toward say, thirty-five and there's no guy in the picture, I'd do the deed."

"Sort of takes the romance out of it," Malory commented.

"Maybe, but it gets results. You've got to look at the big picture. If there's something you want, deep down want, you can't let anything stop you from getting it."

Malory thought of her dream, of the child she'd held in her arms. Of the light filling her world, her heart. "Even if you really, really want something, there are lines."

"Well, murder and a certain amount of mayhem are discouraged. I'm talking about making important choices, then going the distance and dealing with the results. What about you, Zoe? Would you do it again? The raise-a-kid-on-your-own part?" Dana asked.

"I don't think I'd set out to do it again. It's hard. There's nobody to share the load with, and sometimes the load seems impossible for one person. But more, there's nobody who looks at the child and feels what you feel. Nobody to share that love and pride and, I don't know, surprise with."

"Were you scared?" Malory asked her.

"Yeah. Oh, yeah. I still get scared. I think it's supposed to be scary because it's so important. Do you want babies, Mal?"

"I do." She rubbed the stone gently between her fingers. "More than I realized."

By three, Dana and Zoe were sleeping in her bed, and Malory was picking up the worst of the debris, too restless to settle in on the sofa. There were too many thoughts, too many images flitting around in her mind.

She studied the little blue stone again. Maybe it would work. She'd accepted bigger things than having a piece of rock under her pillow as the cure for the insomnia that was plaguing her.

Or maybe she hadn't. Maybe she really hadn't accepted any of it, not in that deep-down way Dana spoke of. She was exhausted, yet she wasn't putting the stone under her pillow and letting herself try.

She claimed to love Flynn, yet she was waiting, tucking a small part of herself safely away and waiting for the feeling to pass. And at the same time, she was annoyed and hurt that he didn't simply fall over in love with her and even things out.

After all, how could she keep her balance, outline plans, and keep it all tidy if everything between them wasn't equal?

Everything belongs in its place, doesn't it? Everything has its slot. And if it doesn't fit just right, well, you're not the one who's going to change. That's up to the other guy."

With a sigh, she dropped down on the couch. She'd pursued a career in art like a demon because while fate hadn't cooperated by giving her talent, she wasn't about to admit that all those years of study and work had been wasted.

She made it fit.

She'd stayed at The Gallery because it was comfortable, because it was sensible and convenient. She'd made noise about striking out on her own one day. But she hadn't meant it. Too big a risk, too messy. If Pamela hadn't come along, she would still be at The Gallery.

And why did she resent Pamela with every fiber of her being? All right, the woman was pushy and had all the taste of overcooked trout, but a more flexible woman than Malory Price would've found a way around that. She resented Pamela primarily because she'd shifted the balance, she'd changed the lines.

She just hadn't fit.

Now there was the business she and Dana and Zoe were starting. She'd been the one to drag her feet on that. Oh, she'd come through in the end, but how many times had she questioned that decision since? How many times had she considered backing out because it was too hard to see how it could all be neatly done?

And she hadn't moved forward on it. Hadn't gone back to the property or made any plans, put out any feelers for artists and craftspeople.

Hell, she hadn't even mailed off the application for her business license. Because once she did, she was committed.

She was using the key as an excuse not to take the final step. Oh, she was looking for it, giving the quest her time and her energy. One thing she took seriously was responsibility.

But here and now, alone and awake at three in the morning, it was time to admit one undeniable fact. Her life may have changed in a dozen strange and fascinating ways in three weeks' time, but she hadn't changed at all.

She put the stone under her pillow. "There's still time," she murmured, and curled up to sleep.

When she woke, the apartment was silent as a tomb. She lay still a moment, studying the lance of light that sneaked through the chink in the patio drapes and onto her floor.

Morning, she thought. Full morning. She didn't remember falling asleep. Better, much, much better, she didn't remember tossing and turning and worrying about sleep.

Slowly, she slid a hand under her pillow, feeling for the stone. She frowned, groping now, then sat up to lift the pillow. There was no stone under it. She searched under the cushions, on the floor, under the couch, before sitting down again with a huff of confusion.

Stones didn't just disappear.

Or maybe they did. When they'd served their purpose. She'd slept and slept well, hadn't she? Just as promised. In fact, she felt wonderful. As if she'd had a nice, relaxing vacation.

"Okay, thanks, Rowena."