away, but I still couldn’t move. “You were born behind the veil. That makes you special. And very powerful.”
What an odd thing to say to someone who couldn’t move her arms or legs.
He waved a hand toward the group in the hallway. “You possess effortlessly what most people here seek artificially. I think I shall enjoy getting to know you.”
“What if I don’t want to get to know you?”
He laughed. “You won’t have a choice. I’ll come to you in your dreams. There isn’t a root or a charm or a mojo bag that can stop me. Neither can John Devlin, though I have no doubt he’ll try.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Somewhere behind me, I heard the screech of tires and the roar of a powerful engine. I was still staring up into the trees, searching for the nightingale that had now gone silent. Not until a hand fell upon my shoulder did I break free from whatever spell had bound me.
“Amelia?”
I turned at the sound of Devlin’s voice, my breath catching at the sight of him. He was dressed all in black as usual, and I could see the glow of the streetlamp in his hair and in his eyes. He seemed so much a part of the night that I could scarcely picture him in sunlight. I wanted to lift my hand to his chest, feel the beat of his heart beneath my palm to assure myself he was real, but the effort was still too great. I had no will to do anything more strenuous than to stand there listening for that phantom songbird.
“What are you doing here?” I asked nonchalantly.
The breeze ruffled his hair as he stared down at me. “You called me.”
“I did?” My gaze dropped to the phone I clutched in my hand. “When?”
“A few minutes ago. I got here as quickly as I could.” He scanned the street, eyes alert for trouble. “Are you all right? What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I said, still in that airy, detached voice. “I don’t even remember calling you.”
He put his hands on my shoulders, turning me so that he could search my face in the lamplight. I stared up into his eyes, and my pulse quickened. He seemed very mystical to me at that moment. As dark and hazy as a dream.
“You’re shivering,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”
He took my arm and tried to guide me to his car, but those few steps to the curb were too much for me. I was still caught in the boneless stupor that had held me prisoner in the blue Victorian house.
Come to think of it, how had I gotten back here?
“What’s the matter?” Devlin asked.
“I feel very strange and my legs don’t seem to work.”
Another sweep of my face and then he scooped me up and carried me to his car, depositing me on the front seat as though I weighed no more than a bundle of twigs. Romantic visions danced in my head. I clung to his jacket, drinking in the scent of him, the feel of him. His nearness was like a drug, but perhaps I was still swimming in the backwash of that glittering blue powder.
He fastened my seat belt, then went around and slid behind the wheel.
The interior of his car smelled like leather and the barest hint of his cologne. I drew a long breath, shivering again, though not from the cold. My head dropped back against the seat, and I turned to him with a languid sigh. “It’s warm in here.”
“Good.” He adjusted the vents so that the heated air cocooned me.
I couldn’t stop staring at him. His face was in shadows, but I had no trouble tracing the masculine contours of his profile. I had the strongest desire to reach out and take his hand, lift it to my cold cheek, but I had no way of knowing whether he had been afflicted by the same starry-eyed spell. Best not to make a fool of myself, especially when I was already feeling so off-kilter.
“What about my car?” I asked. “I’m parked in the lot at the wharf.”
“Give me your keys. I’ll have someone pick it up later.”
I fished around in my pocket until I produced them. “I’ll need the door key. Although there’s a spare underneath a paving stone in the garden.”
“I’ll remember that if I ever need to break in.”
“You won’t find it unless you dig up my whole yard.”
I turned to gaze out the window. Now that the lethargy was waning, my stomach felt a little queasy. The motion of the car didn’t help.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked as he turned onto Queen Street. “You seem disoriented.”
“I don’t know. I was there one moment, someplace else the next, then back again. It’s all very confusing.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I heard worry in his voice.
“I think so. Except…I don’t feel very well at the moment. Your car is so nice. I hope I’m not sick in it.”
“Is that a possibility?”
I swallowed hard. “A distinct one, I’m afraid.”
“Should I pull over?”
“Can you just lower the window a little? Some fresh air might help.”
He cracked the window, and I turned my face into the chilly wind. The cold revived me, and I thought the nausea had passed, but the moment he slowed and pulled into my driveway, another wave washed over me.
I all but fell out of the car in my haste and stumbled up the porch steps, breaking into a cold sweat as I waited for Devlin to unlock the front door. Angus met us in the hallway, but I brushed him aside as I rushed to the bathroom, both dog and man at my heels. Somehow I managed to pull myself together long enough to wave them away.
“What can I do?” Devlin asked solicitously. “You want a cold cloth for your head?”
“No, just get out! Please,” I added weakly.
I held back for as long as I could, even somehow managing to turn on the water in the sink to drown out the sound of my retching. Then I was sick for a very long time. I remembered reading online that the plants consumed in certain African initiation ceremonies caused extreme nausea, purging the body of negativity so that it could more readily accept the hallucinations.
Had I been drugged? I wondered. How else to explain the sickness? How else to explain my visit with Darius Goodwine?
After it was over, I washed out my mouth and brushed my teeth. Then I took a quick shower and pulled on my fluffy robe, which was not at all sexy but warm and snuggly. Just what I needed at that moment. Then I padded out into the hallway and went in search of Devlin.
I found him in my office reading the book Dr. Shaw had loaned me. Angus was stretched out at his feet, and I thought that despite everything that had happened, despite the ghosts that undoubtedly lurked in my garden, this was a very homey scene. Devlin with my dog. Me in my cozy bathrobe. But I refused to indulge in any more romantic fantasies. That awful nausea had brought me back to earth with an unpleasant jolt.
Devlin laid aside the book and stood when I came in. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, much better. Thank you.”
“I made tea,” he said. “I thought it might help settle your stomach.”
He passed through the doorway, and I turned to watch him move about my kitchen. When he handed me a cup, I clung with both hands, sipping slowly so that the warmth could seep down into my bones.
We went back into my office, and I sat down at my desk while he took his place on the chaise. He picked up the book, idly thumbing through it, then set it aside again.
“I’m still puzzled by tonight,” he said. “And I’m still very worried about you.”
“I’m fine now. The tea helped.”
“I could tell the moment I heard your voice on the phone that something was wrong,” he said. “You sounded so strange. I wasn’t even sure it was you.”
“But you came, anyway, in spite of the fact that you told me not to contact you. You’re not angry?”
