Daughter of the Spellcaster. Maggie Shayne

It was like a twister had just swept through his life. He’d buried his father and found out he was going to be one himself, inherited billions he’d never wanted, and learned that the man he disliked more than anyone he knew was being installed as a fixture in his child’s life, when he himself had not yet been granted access. All in one day.

      “Are you all right, Ryan?”

      “Yeah. I—” He shook his head hard, as though he was shaking away the fog. “Yeah. Good. Let’s get on with this. I’ve got… a lot to deal with.”

      “That’s got to be the understatement of the year.” The lawyer bent to pick up an oversized briefcase, then laid it on the giant antique desk and snapped open the clasps. He opened it and picked up a wooden box that looked centuries old, at least. Its lid was completely engraved, so that there wasn’t a smooth spot anywhere. Vines with leaves and buds, stars and spirals in between.

      As the attorney held it out to him, Ryan took it and looked more closely, realizing that the more you looked at the thing, the more you saw. Swirls in the vine’s barklike texture revealed an eye here, a hand there, a crescent moon in another spot. He wanted to roll his eyes. “I don’t know how many times I told the old man I just wasn’t into all his spiritual hocus pocus bull. I guess he just had to try one last time to capture my interest.”

      And he had. The box was spectacular—there was no denying it as a work of art. And that spoke to Ryan’s soul, though he would never admit it. But there was more. Something that seemed to grab his attention and pull him in.

      He lifted the lid to see what was inside.

      There was no earthly reason for him to feel as if he’d been hit between the eyes with an invisible blast, and yet that was what he felt at his first glimpse of the blade. It was a simple piece. A double-edged dagger with a gleaming gold hilt. It looked real. Weighed enough, too.

      “That’s it?”

      “That’s it. He said I was to give it to you in private, and to tell you to keep it to yourself.”

      “And why’s that?”

      Samuels shrugged, snapping the briefcase closed. “I don’t know any more than that, Ryan.” Then he rose and extended his hand.

      Ryan closed the lid of the wooden box and accepted the gesture. “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome. I’m sure we’ll be in touch. Let me know if there’s anything you need. And again, Ryan, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

      “Thanks.”

      The lawyer nodded and left. Ryan watched him go. Then he opened the box again, wondering what the hell this was all about.

      He went to pick the knife up, but his hand stalled just before making contact, as if he was afraid to touch it. Which was completely illogical. And then his palm started tingling like nothing he’d ever felt before. For just the barest instant the golden blade seemed to glow.

      There was a knock at the door, and he slammed the lid as fast as if he’d spotted a cobra inside. Damn, he was jumpy. Emotional overload. A trick of the light. Some weird combination of the two.

      “Ryan?”

      It was Lena’s voice. He shoved the box onto a nearby shelf and went to open the door. She searched his face, hers full of concern. “You okay?”

      “Yeah. Fine. It’s just been… it’s been a crazy day, that’s all.”

      “I know it has. For me, too. And the energy out there is just…” She raised her hands to her head and made the universal gesture for crazy.

      “Nuts?” he asked.

      “Frenetic. And fake, too. A lot of those people are only here for their own ends. To see or be seen, or… I don’t know. Definitely not out of any love for Ernst, that’s for sure.”

      “They told you that?”

      She frowned, cocking her head and wiggling her fingers in a woo-woo gesture. “Of course not. Witch, remember?”

      He almost smiled, because he’d forgotten how expressive she was with her hands. And her face. She could never hide her feelings, and he didn’t think she saw much reason to try. “Right.”

      “I’ve got to get back home, Ryan. I don’t like it here anymore, and it’s upsetting the baby.”

      He nodded, stepped aside and took her arm, drawing her back into the den. Then he closed the door behind her. “We can slip out the back, and I’ll drive you to the hotel and your car.”

      “I took the bus.”

      “The bus?”

      “Don’t act like I just said I rode a donkey. For crying out loud, Ryan, not everyone can afford a three-hundred-dollar flight for a day trip.”

      “No, not everyone. But you can. Now.”

      She met his eyes, and hers flashed with what looked like anger. “I will never touch a penny of that money. It’s all going to fold right back into itself for the baby. I don’t want it, didn’t ask for it and don’t need it.”

      “All right, all right, I wasn’t insulting you.” Damn, she was sensitive.

      She shrugged and turned away.

      “Listen, I want to talk to you.”

      “About what?”

      “Bahru. I don’t trust him, Lena.”

      “You never have. But I thought his insistence that he didn’t want any money from your father’s estate might have convinced you that he was sincere.”

      “His insistence wound up getting him an income for life and a free place to live. Not to mention a VIP pass into the life of my child, who, in case you forgot, just inherited a fortune.”

      “Your child?”

      “Our. I meant our.” He turned away, pushing one hand through his hair, knowing he was blowing this utterly.

      “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” she asked.

      He gave her a don’t-be-ridiculous look, but she went on anyway. “You’ve always been jealous of Bahru. And no wonder, Ryan. Your father abandoned you but took Bahru with him, and that was wrong of him. As much as I loved the man, I know that was wrong. But it wasn’t Bahru’s fault.”

      “I am not jealous.”

      “How could you not be? You were eleven. Your mother had just died, and your father left you behind and walked away with his guru. No one in their right mind could blame you for how you felt. And now it looks as if Bahru has once again usurped your place, this time in the life of our child. But you’re forgetting one very important element in all this, Ryan.”

      “What element is that?” he asked. He knew he sounded angry, sarcastic, and while he regretted it, he couldn’t seem to help himself.

      She walked up to him, slid a hand over his shoulder. “Me.”

      Frowning, he lifted his head and turned to face her even though there were hot tears burning in his eyes, tears he hadn’t thought he had in him—not for his father.

      “I am not a stupid woman. Nor am I a gullible one. I am, in fact, probably the most powerful woman you’ve ever met in your life—besides my mom, anyway—even though I’m powerful in ways you don’t respect or even understand. But you can trust me on this, Ryan. I would never keep you from being in our baby’s life.”

      “I don’t know if I believe that.” How could he believe it? he wondered. “I mean, look at you. You’ve been pregnant for how long? And you never said a word.”

      She sighed as if emptying her lungs to the bottom, nodding, not arguing. “I know it looks bad. But, Ryan, I truly had no intention