Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

M ax closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

“What do I even say?” he asked Amelia.

“Say you’re sorry for being rude in the past and then ask him who he is and what he wants you to do.”

Max bristled, his eyes popping open. His life had not prepared him to spend much time apologizing or explaining himself. “Do I have to?”

“You don’t have to do anything, but you asked for my advice.”

She had him there.

“Very well.”

He closed his eyes again and focused, picturing the voice in his mind.

Looking for me?

Yes.

Something you’d like to say?

Damn it.

I am wondering who you are.

Anything else you are supposed to say first?

Fine. I…apologize for ignoring you in the past.

Ignoring? Or rudely telling me to leave you alone?

Perhaps a bit of both.

Very well. I will accept your reluctant apology.

“What did he say?” Amelia whispered.

“That he accepts my humble apology,” he said, while the voice in his head snorted.

“If you have done your apology, you can ask who he is now,” she whispered, as though that would prevent this voice from hearing them.

Care to share your identity with me?

Do you care to know?

I asked, didn’t I?

Very well. Shall we make a guessing game of it?

I’d rather not.

You’re no fun. Very well. I am your grandfather.

Max’s eyes shot open. He supposed he should have realized it, but he had been alone for so long, his life void of any other family members, that he never guessed that one would still be around… in one form or another.

Surprised you, did I?

You could say that.

Why wouldn’t you have told me?

He opened his eyes to meet Amelia’s gaze, so intently green in the moonlight as she waited patiently for him to return to her.

“It’s my grandfather,” he said.

Amelia’s eyes widened, but that wasn’t what shocked him.

It was the glass shattering in the house beyond.

That’s why.

“Isolde.” Amelia’s eyes met Max’s as her mouth rounded into an O. “This is not good,” she said before lowering her voice. “Ask him how he feels about her.”

“No!”

“Just ask. Maybe he can help.”

“Very well,” he grumbled.

Are you and Isolde still… friendly?

You can tell that beautiful devil ? —

“No,” he said, cutting off his grandfather. “No, they are not. I’d call it… a love-hate type of thing. He isn’t happy about the curse.”

Amelia stood, pulling Max to his feet.

“I think we’re going to have another lesson pretty soon,” she said, looking around them, wary for danger. “Now that you have allowed your grandfather to truly communicate with you, the rest should come easier. We know you can speak with the ground, air, water, and fire. We learned last night that you do not just move elements, but you can conjure them as well. With any magic, your mind is the most powerful part of it. You need to believe and command with confidence. Do you see that rock over there?”

She pointed at a rock about the size of a hand across the path, and Max nodded. “I do.”

“Move it.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Just move it. Focus on it and where you want it to go.”

He nodded and stared at the rock, focusing all of his attention on it. He thought about lifting it, and, ever so slowly, it began to shake until it was moving across the path to the other side where he had wanted it.

“That's good, “she said. “Now, see if you can send a trickle of water over it.”

“Water from where?”

“That is up to you.”

This one was harder. If he could focus on an object or something already existing, it was easier. Any other time, he had actually created something from nothing; it hadn’t been on purpose but more either in a moment of panic and desperation or in response to something else.

He stared at the rock, picturing it wet and glistening.

Then, shockingly, a small shining fountain appeared from nowhere and water began trickling down overtop of it.

“Very good,” Amelia murmured, reaching over and squeezing his leg. It made him want to continue to please her so that, hopefully, her hand would continue to inch up higher.

A sudden gust of wind whooshed between them, and Amelia looked at him immediately.

“Is that from you?”

“No,” he shook his head. “It must be Isolde.”

That would be her.

How long is she going to continue these attacks?

As long as there is a curse.

Should we actually consider breaking it?

It will take a great deal from both you and your woman. Sacrifice and vulnerability.

But is it possible?

It is.

He had been so focused on the conversation with his grandfather that he hadn’t noticed what Amelia had been doing. She had worn a bag around her shoulder, and she pulled it out now, arming herself with paintbrushes and a small piece of canvas.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m preparing,” she said, and as she did, the trees around them began twisting, changing from harmless, beautiful greenery to something far more sinister, the branches becoming looming arms stretching toward them, the gnarled trunks their bodies, notches in the tree becoming sinister faces.

“How do we combat this?” Max said, staring at them, trying not to turn and run away. He had lived at Blackwood Manor for years but had never seen anything quite like this before. How much damage could a tree do?

One of them lumbered forward, its roots ripping out of the ground and stomping slowly along the path like a stiff upright octopus. As it began its slow, menacing stride toward them, one of its branches reached out. Max ducked, and it hit the bench where they had been sitting moments before, sending it flying onto its side.

Quite a bit of damage, apparently.

He turned, ready to shield Amelia, but she was crouched on the opposite side of the path, furiously painting.

He stood over her, ready to battle for her, although how, he wasn’t entirely sure. Then she lifted her canvas to the sky and showed a silent, starlit night with a circle of calm, inanimate trees surrounding it. She closed her eyes and then whisked it off the page and into the air. The colors from the painting blended and swirled in the air as they began to wind their way around the trees, stilling each of them as they wrapped around them.

Finally, all of the monstrous trees stopped their lumbering and Max breathed in a sigh of relief as he watched Amelia, who was now tucking away her paints as though nothing had happened.

“Is this a regular occurrence for you?” he asked, and she laughed.

“Not entirely. But sometimes our group is called on to provide assistance when a spirit such as Isolde has taken over a property, and we do what we can to help.”

“So, you have done this before.”

“Yes. But not alone.”

“You’re not alone,” he said, taking a step toward her and lifting his hand to her cheek. “You have me.”

Amelia’s heart started pounding at his touch, her skin tingling where his hand cupped her.

“I actually believe we might have a chance at breaking this… you know,” he said.

“You can have a future,” she said, spreading her fingers over his chest. “You are worth having a future.”

“For right now,” he said, his index fingers trailing a line over the bones above her eyes, “why do we not just focus on tonight? On the time we have together?”

“That is just fine with me,” she said, biting her lip as she took his hands and interlaced their fingers together. “Shall we go inside?”

“Did I practice my magic enough?” he asked, arching a brow, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her full smile from blooming.

“I can think of other ways to practice,” she said suggestively, and he chuckled as he followed in behind her.

They kept their hands intertwined as they walked up the wide staircase until they reached the corridor above. When they began to walk toward Amelia’s room, Max tugged on her hand.

“My room is much bigger,” he said as he led her down the hall and then pushed open the large oak doors.

Amelia’s breath caught when she walked through. While it was obvious that very little in the room had been replaced in years, it must have been absolutely majestic at one point.

Everything was black with gold trim. The bed canopy and covering appeared to be shiny black silk, while all of the paintings and furniture were trimmed in gold, even if some of it was beginning to fleck off.

“Your great-grandfather styled this room, didn’t he?” she said, and Max turned to her in surprise.

“How did you know?”

“I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “Just a feeling. And it seems like it would suit such a man.”

“I’ve never felt particularly comfortable here, but I also haven’t had any resources to change anything,” he said, looking around him, unaffected.

“Maybe it would be a good idea to try,” she said. “I doubt Isolde has any wish to have reminders of your great-grandfather in the house, and if you are not particularly fond of the décor, then why not change some of it with furnishings from elsewhere?”

“I could try that.”

“I could paint something on the walls for you if you’d like,” she said. “I promise that you would have the best sleeps.”

“I can think of another way to help my sleeping,” he said, reaching out and drawing her close. Amelia’s breath caught as she nearly trembled before him at all of the promises that the throatiness of his voice held within.

“That helps you fall asleep?” She tilted her head to the side as she studied him. “It usually only wakes me up for the night.”

“Usually?” His eyebrows rose, and Amelia, who hardly ever felt any shame, felt warmth rushing up her cheeks. He must have sensed it, for he shook his head and leaned in, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Nothing to be ashamed about.”

“It was only a handful of times,” she said. “One of the men from our committee. I?—"

“No need to explain,” he said, shaking his head. “It is not as though I am telling you my entire history, am I?”

“You are not.”

“See? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you and me. Tonight. Together.”

“Well, look at you, my lord. It seems that you are a romantic.”

“No one has ever accused me of that before.”

So often throughout her life, Amelia had to hide a part of herself – her artistic side or her magical side – but with Max, she felt as though she could truly be herself, allowing him to see all of who she was and what she was capable of.

His gaze was intense, his eyes burning with a passion that set Amelia's heart racing. He took a step closer, reducing the distance between them in one swift motion. Amelia's breath hitched as his hands fitted around her waist, pulling her closer still. His skin was heated, the pounding of his heart matching her own.

Slowly, deliberately, Max leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was at once tender and fierce. Amelia responded in kind, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair.

She knew at that moment that she would remember tonight for the rest of her life.