Do You Believe in Magic

chapter TWENTY-FOUR



Francie stared at the two women standing at her door at ten o’clock Saturday morning. She recognized Daria. Her companion must be the other sister. Same green eyes; same dark, curly hair; same beauty. The only differences were the sister was a couple of inches taller and her hair was longer. They both smiled up at her in a friendly manner. Whatever Clay may have told them about her didn’t seem to have made them angry.

“Hi, Francie,” Daria said. “This is my sister, Gloriana. May we come in and talk to you? Please?”

Francie peered at them suspiciously. They could only want to talk about Clay and this “magic” business. Damn. If she’d stuck to her original plan, she wouldn’t even be here to have to deal with this. She’d have been on the road already, but she had too many tasks, too many errands, and she simply hadn’t been able to get herself together, packed, and out the door. Even the little cold front that had blown in during the night didn’t invigorate her. Something—a lethargy, a premonition, an anticipation—was not letting her move with her usual efficiency and dispatch.

She wasn’t going to be deterred now, however, so she stood up to her full height, frowned down at the smaller women, and answered, “No, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. I’m sorry, too, that Clay is trying to use you in this mess.”

“What we have to tell you is critical to your life,” Gloriana said, frowning back. “You really need to listen to us.”

“No, I don’t,” Francie replied and shut the door in their faces.

They immediately began to ring the bell and pound on the door. “Francie! Yes, you do!” one of them shouted. “Open the door!” the other yelled.

When they didn’t stop pounding or ringing or shouting, Francie threw open the door and put one hand on it and the other on the jamb to bar them physically. She scowled down at them. “Look, don’t interfere in my business. Get out of here, or I’ll call the cops. I don’t and won’t listen to anything you have to say.”

She didn’t really think it would come to the police, and she didn’t anticipate not being able to get rid of them, by force if necessary. After all, she had at least five inches on both of them and much better muscle tone. The two of them together didn’t look like they could lift a chair.

The two sisters exchanged a sneaky glance and a nod with each other, then turned back to her. They said in unison, “Oh, yes, you will.”

“No, I won’t.” She began to shut the door.

Flash! A brilliant blaze of light burst in front of her, and all she could see were multicolored lights whirling about her.

The next thing she knew, she was flat on the floor with a sister leaning on each arm, holding her down.

“Oh, yes, you will,” Daria said, and used her foot to kick the door closed.

“Let me go!” Francie tried to sit up, but the sisters’ grips were tight. She tried to struggle, but she couldn’t budge them. They were just pip-squeaks. She should have been able to throw them across the room. How could they feel like two tons of lead on each of her arms?

She tried kicking, but each sister simply moved a hand to Francie’s nearest leg and held that down also. If that weren’t enough, a feeling of total weakness flooded her body, and her breastbone ached like a mule had kicked it.

“Now, listen, you two—” she began with a wheeze.

Flash!

When she blinked back to sight again, she almost screamed. Now, instead of two sisters, a dragon sat on one of her arms and a panther on the other. Both were black with big green eyes and sharp-looking teeth.

“No, you listen,” the dragon said in Daria’s voice.

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” the panther said, sounding like Gloriana, and rolled its eyes at the dragon. “I told you it would come to this, Daria. She’s just like Clay, as a proper soul mate should be, and we always had to resort to trickery to get to him. Now, aren’t you glad we planned ahead?”

“I prefer to think we’re forthright and persistent,” the dragon replied. “And truthful. And, yes, you were right, she left us no alternative but to use our spells.”

Francie lay on her back and watched the beasts bicker above her while she tried to get her mind going again. What in the hell had just happened? How had the two women become . . . animals? Werebeasts? Were they shape-shifters? Were they going to drink her blood?

No, that happened only in fantasy novels. Didn’t it? This was the real world. Wasn’t it? She opened her mouth to let them have it verbally—her only recourse—but all that came out was, “Uh.”

That brought the attention of the two sisters back to her.

“Are you ready to listen, Francie?” Daria asked. “We’ll let you up if you agree to calm down and hear us out.”

“No tricks, now, Francie,” Gloriana admonished, waving a claw-tipped paw in front of her nose.

“O-o-okay,” Francie pushed the word out of her mouth by sheer willpower.

“Okay,” the sisters said together and let her go.

Francie sat up and rubbed her eyes. When she opened them again, Daria and Gloriana were back to their normal selves—whatever “normal” meant to these two.

The sisters hauled her to her feet as though she was full of feathers, pulled her into her living room, and plopped her down in her overstuffed chair.

Daria took a seat on the couch, but Gloriana marched over to the window and picked up one of her potted plants. She placed the dark green ivy on the table next to Francie.

“Just in case you need more convincing . . .” Gloriana said, as she looked intently at the plant, “. . . watch.”

Francie could not stop from turning her face toward the ivy. As she watched, one new leaf emerged, then another, both the clear light green of new growth. The ivy tendril grew by at least two inches.

Her mind whirling, she stared at the plant. She blinked. The new leaves were still there. The ivy had truly grown.

“And there’s the old standby . . .” Gloriana waved her hand, and a six-inch glowing ball of swirling indigo and violet light burst into being, zipped around the room like a firefly on steroids, and finally came to rest, floating serenely, one foot in front of Francie, who drew in her chin as she contemplated the object.

A bright blue globe had appeared before her in the midst of the argument with Clay, she recalled. She had ignored it and accused him of a magician’s trickery. She couldn’t repeat those actions now.

The sphere floated up and almost bonked her on the nose. She reached out and touched it lightly with a fingertip. The surface was hard and cold, and she felt a slight tingle travel up her hand to her arm. She quickly pulled her hand away from it.

“Don’t worry,” Gloriana said. “It won’t hurt you.”

Francie looked at the ball, then at the two sisters, then off into space. A thundering headache suddenly formed behind her forehead. She had just seen proof of something—several somethings that could not have been staged, not here in her own apartment. Was it magic? Could it have been anything else?

No, she told herself. It couldn’t have been magic. Magic didn’t exist. But her protest seemed automatic to her; she felt helpless in the face of the evidence before her.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead as the headache throbbed with increasing intensity. The pain in her middle returned, accompanied by an enormous sense of loss. Loss of Clay, loss of happiness, loss of a bright future. What was she going to do now? What would she do without him? The headache formed itself into cannonballs that ricocheted around in her skull, thudding dully each time they hit bone. She moaned to herself and rubbed harder.

Francie felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to find Gloriana kneeling by her side. The ball of light had disappeared.

“Headache?” Gloriana asked. When Francie nodded affirmatively, Gloriana offered, “Can I help? I can cast a healing spell, but if you’d rather not . . .”

“No,” Francie croaked, and a particularly large cannonball hit her cranium directly over her right eye. Maybe she’d reconsider. After all, what would it hurt to indulge her guests’ fantasies? “Well, I mean, go ahead. I don’t think you can do anything, but, what the heck? Pills certainly don’t help.”

“Close your eyes and try to relax,” Gloriana said.

Francie leaned back in the chair and rested her head on its high back. She put her hands in her lap and shut her eyes. She felt Gloriana’s hand rest lightly on her forehead, and a healing warmth spread slowly through her entire skull. She had the distinct sensation her blood vessels were relaxing, the blood itself slowing, nerve endings ceasing to fire, her thought processes returning to their normal operation.

After a period of time—she had no notion how long—Francie opened her eyes. The headache had vanished, and in its place a sense of calm well-being permeated her entire body.

Gloriana had moved back to the couch. “How do you feel?” she asked.

“Fine. Just fine,” Francie answered as she mentally checked over her body. Gloriana’s spell seemed to have had another effect besides curing her headache. For the first time in days, she had absolutely no pain in her middle. “I really do,” she said, hearing the wonder in her own voice. “Did you hypnotize me?”

“No,” Glori said with a smile. “I just cast a garden-variety healing spell.”

“Let me make us some tea,” Daria said. “Then we can talk.”

“I owe you an apology,” Francie said. “When I can think again. I feel like I’m floating without a care in the world.”

Gloriana laughed. “That’s one of the side effects. You just sit. We’ll find what we need.”

“You don’t want to show her your microwave imitation? Double bubble, toil and boil?” Daria asked with a playful smirk.

“I can heat water, that’s all,” Gloriana said to Francie after she shot a glare at her sister.

Francie sat there in her mild state of bliss and let the sisters have their way. Within minutes, the three had cups of tea in their hands.

“Now, about our idiot brother,” Gloriana stated. “We can’t believe he sandbagged you like he did, telling you everything without at least one of us there to help him. You poor thing, you must have been flabbergasted.”

“Well . . .” Francie hesitated. Their “idiot brother”? They were on her side? What could she say to that?

“As he probably told you,” Daria interjected, speaking quickly, “I’m not great at casting visible, incontrovertible spells, but mine do affect the way people perceive me. Except for defensive spells, of course, but we’ll get to those. Clay can cast lux, the light ball spell, but he can’t spell anyone else, either, only those computers and such. How he ever expected to convince you about magic solely by manipulating a computer is beyond both of us. At least I knew I couldn’t do it by myself when it came time to tell Bent. He’s a nonpractitioner like you. Did Clay mention that?”

“Clay can be so dense at times,” Gloriana agreed. “As we understand it, he didn’t give you a chance to get a word in edgewise, just laid it all out about practitioners, how the talents are hereditary but varied, how we use them to make our livings, how we’re basically . . .”

“Wait, stop,” Daria held up a hand to her sister. “We’re getting ahead of our audience here. Not only that, but we’re acting just like Clay, not allowing her to get a word in edgewise.”

“Oh. You’re right,” Gloriana said.

“Let’s be clear where we stand before we get into any details,” Daria continued. “Francie, what’s the whole picture here? Do you believe us, that we can work magic, that Clay can, too, and that he wasn’t stringing you a line? Were our demonstrations convincing? Those were some strength and illusion spells we used to knock you down and become beasties, and Glori really can make plants grow. Do you want to see some more?”

Francie looked from one sister to the other. It did appear that they were on her side. But how would she answer their questions?

Did she believe in magic? Did she, who’d always prided herself on her grasp of reality, believe that there were people who could do magic? That was the question, wasn’t it? But what was reality, after all? What you perceived, the way you thought?

If you had not personally perceived, had not actually experienced an event, that did not mean it didn’t exist, hadn’t happened. People had not believed the earth revolved around the sun until Copernicus, and he had certainly had problems convincing them of it. Was she like those ancient, ignorant people, refusing to accept a new reality because it ran counter to her own, to what she wanted to believe?

Or was she like those people who didn’t believe human beings had gone to the moon, that it was all just movie special effects? Two little women had knocked her down and sat on her, and that had been real. The dragon and the panther may have been special effects of another sort, but they certainly appeared real to her, from her position on the floor.

What did the sisters’ demonstration mean? She could think of only one answer: she had just experienced magic, real magic.

Clay had been telling the truth, and she . . . she, who’d always considered herself open-minded, had refused to listen to what he had to say or look at what he wanted to show her. She hadn’t given him the chance to offer his proof.

Now, here were his sisters, who’d left her no other alternative than to accept the idea, the fact of magic. Oh, they’d shown her in the simplest and probably kindest way possible, she supposed. She couldn’t deny the actuality of what she had just seen, right here in her own apartment. They couldn’t have held her down, created those animals or the light ball without the help of some sort of power. Her ivy plant had not grown by itself. Her headache definitely had not cured itself.

What else could it be but magic? Real, honest-togosh enchantment, spells, sorcery. As her acceptance of the idea permeated her mind, she felt her view of reality, her understanding of the universe, spin, tilt, and come to rest in a totally new place. And her solar plexus radiated warmth.

She had to admit to herself she was convinced now. She should have listened to Clay in the first place. She had been such a coward. So afraid of being hurt, not realizing that, by not opening herself up to new possibilities, she was, in truth, hurting not only herself, but also Clay.

Clay . . . What must he think of her? Would he even speak to her?

Francie looked from one woman to the other. Though she might feel embarrassed by her former actions, she had to tell them the truth, the conclusion she had come to. “I don’t see that I have any choice. Even if I denied seeing the dragon and the panther, I can’t dispute you made my plant grow or your touch cured my headache.” She couldn’t help sighing or stop her shoulders from sagging. “I hope I haven’t made too big a fool of myself.”

“No, not at all,” Gloriana said. “We were a little anxious about this, so we planned on overwhelming you with spells if we had to. When you wouldn’t let us in, we resorted to them to, let’s say, get your attention. I hope we didn’t bulldoze you too much.”

“I think you displayed a great deal of composure and common sense,” Daria said. “If I had been in your place, had all this dropped in my lap, I would have come completely unglued. Clay was foolish to think he could simply talk to you, use a puny light ball as proof, and then conjure those computer spells of his and expect you to believe him.”

“Probably if I had given him the chance to show me how he worked with a computer, I might have believed him.” Francie heard the words come out of her mouth and realized she was defending Clay, a point evidently not lost on his sisters, who gave each other one of those did-you-catch-that looks. “As long as it wasn’t his own computer,” she amended, in the interest of being perfectly clear.

Daria gave her a big grin and shrugged at Gloriana. “Well, what did we expect? She was bound to be as much into computers as he is.” She turned back to Francie. “Okay. What do you remember from Clay’s explanation?”

“Well,” Francie said after she took a couple of sips of tea, “he said you all are magic practitioners, you use spells to do your work, and you’re just ordinary folks otherwise.”

“Basically, that’s correct,” Daria answered. “Practitioners use internal energy to cast spells and cause things to happen. The kind of magic you can make, the type of talent you have, seems to be random, although the ability to do magic is inherited. Most practitioners can cast spells on objects or people, but I’m a little different, being able to cast spells only on myself.”

“Clay said you had used one to make sure I was telling the truth the first time we met.”

“Yes, you responded to my I-will-hear-only-the-truth spell,” Daria said. “You evidently are sensitive to magic, because you blinked when I enhanced the power. You reacted today also.”

“I saw big flashes of light today. It was just little ones before.”

“Hmmm, more than just a little sensitive, then. Clay told you more than simply about practitioners and our ability to use magic, didn’t he? Glori and I had a twofold mission today, Francie. First, we were going to do everything we could to convince you of the existence of magic and our ability to practice it. You say we’ve accomplished that goal. The second part is to explain the phenomenon of practitioner life called the soul-mate imperative.”

“You mean that’s true? It’s all true? It wasn’t just a line?” Francie jerked back in her chair, and her hand shot up to her throat. “But I thought he just wanted to . . . And I jumped to the conclusion . . . And I accused him of . . .” Every scornful word she had said to Clay ran through her mind like a plundering horde intent on reducing her inner fortress to rubble. She felt her walls crumble. “Oh, God, what must he think of me? What have I said to him?”

“No more than he deserved,” Gloriana remarked dryly.

“Take it easy, Glori,” Daria warned. “I agree Clay brought most of his misery on himself. You haven’t been through this yet, and I know you like to give Clay a hard time. But I learned the imperative has its own methods for enforcement, and speaking from experience, the situation couldn’t have been easy on either of them.”

She turned to Francie. “I had a similar reaction to yours when I heard about the imperative—disbelief. At first when Mother reminded me I should be meeting my soul mate soon, I was, to put it mildly, outraged and horrified. The whole situation sounded so medieval, something arranged without my approval, and I had no say in the matter. No free will. Some man would come into my life, and I’d be hit with the soul mate thunderbolt and stuck with him, no matter who or what he was. I felt trapped. All of a sudden, I had no control of my life. Then I met Bent, and before I knew it, the imperative had me in its clutches.” She demonstrated by clasping her hands together and shaking them sharply.

“The SMI, as Clay calls it, does make itself known. For example, do you have an itch, a pain right under your breastbone? Right here?” Daria pointed to the spot on herself.

“Yes, more than an itch, a real pain, and it’s been driving me crazy.” Francie rubbed the end of her sternum, which, mercifully, for once only itched slightly. “First I thought it was a bug bite. When it started hurting, I decided it was heartburn, and finally an ulcer—or something worse. Why right here?” Francie rubbed the area, which seemed to be vibrating, in a happy sort of way.

“A practitioner’s ‘magic center’ is right in that spot, next to the heart,” Gloriana said. “It’s where we gather our energy to do magic.”

“But . . .”

“Soul mates, even when one is not a practitioner, have centers that resonate with each other,” Daria said. “It’s a kind of sympathetic vibration, I guess. Bent and I both itched like crazy. He also thought he was developing an ulcer because the spot hurt so much until he gave in to the imperative. The itch goes away after the First Mating.”

“The what?” Daria’s words brought Francie upright in her chair again.

The two sisters exchanged one of their looks. Gloriana rolled her eyes and mouthed the word “idiot,” while Daria put up her hands in a calm-down gesture.

Gloriana said, “I guess Clay didn’t get that far, did he?” When Francie shook her head, Gloriana turned to her sister and said, “This one’s yours, Daria.”

“Let’s back up a minute,” Daria said. “What did Clay say about soul mates?”

“They get along well, have similar likes,” Francie answered, frowning as she tried to reconstruct what Clay had actually said, not what she might have heard in his tone, not what conclusions she had been jumping to. “They’re attracted to each other. Something about a bond between them, a lifetime commitment. Some deal about the first time they make love. Is that what you mean?”

“Exactly, but there’s more to it,” Daria said. “I cannot begin to tell you how powerful the imperative is. It kept Bent from marrying anybody else, although he tried a couple of times before he met me. It causes pain, as you know, but it also brings euphoria.”

“I can attest to both of those,” Francie said, with a rueful smile. Then several incidents came to mind. “Oh, so that’s why . . . I couldn’t understand how my mind would shut down when he kissed me. I had no control at all. I actually considered the possibility of being possessed by an alien.”

Daria laughed. “I hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re right. Bent will agree also. The imperative does take over your mind.”

“But I’m not a practitioner. How could this force affect me?”

“It doesn’t matter if one of the pair is not a practitioner,” Daria said. “The imperative applies just as it would if both were. In the practitioner concept, the two soul mates are bound together. Emotions are heightened, and the attraction is irresistible, as I can attest. They are as in love with each other as it is possible for two people to be. The feeling grows that one is not ‘complete,’ not ‘whole’ without the other, and the bond grows stronger over time.”

Daria took a sip of tea, then continued. “You don’t have to worry that your feelings aren’t real. The imperative doesn’t bring together people who wouldn’t be mates. It just hurries the process some. Also, Clay has not cast any ‘love spell’ or such nonsense on you. Soul mates can’t spell each other, except for healing and defensive purposes. That’s one of the ways two people know they are, in fact, soul mates and not under somebody else’s enchantment. And in a practitioner family, the members can’t spell each other, except for healing and defense. It’s just how magic works for us.” She paused, then smiled. “And now we have reached the subject of the ‘First Mating.’”

Francie had a sudden premonition that what Daria was going to say next would have a profound effect on her life. Her center began to tingle like crazy, and she clasped her hands over the spot.

“It’s the first time you make love with your soul mate, and it holds a special place in the concept, not just because it seals the bond between the two of you. The First Mating often enhances practitioner powers and talents.” Daria shrugged. “But there’s no guarantee.”

“What happened to you?” Francie asked. What would happen to her, she wondered. The tingle grew stronger.

“Bent gained the ability to see the aura around me when I have cast a spell on myself. I can now spell him for healing and defense. That was the extent of our enhancement. No one has any idea what the First Mating will do, what talents it might increase, or by what magnitude. In some cases, the practitioner gains nothing, and in others, completely new abilities. Therefore we don’t know what will happen to you. According to my mother’s sources, however, as far as we know, the SMI has never granted spell-casting abilities to a nonpractitioner in the First Mating.”

“Oh.” Francie immediately felt deflated and disappointed. She laughed at herself as she realized the cause. When both sisters raised their eyebrows in question, she explained, “I had a sudden vision of being able to cast a spell. Paradoxical, isn’t it? One minute I deny the existence of magic, and the next I want to use it. What a turnaround.”

“One thing we all have to get used to,” Gloriana said, “is that each and every one of us has his or her own brand of magic, his or her individual talents. This is no different from nonpractitioners and their non-magic talents. All we can do is be true to our own natures and abilities.” She grinned. “Thus endeth the lesson for today.”

“What else do I need to know?” Francie asked.

“Well,” Daria answered, “we witches are always virgins at our First Matings, mostly because the imperative turns us off to any man except our soul mates, but the situation doesn’t apply to nonpractitioners, from what we’ve been able to find out. Warlocks are seldom virgins—because of all their testosterone, according to Mother.”

Francie forced herself to keep her mouth closed at the implications of Daria’s statement, but she felt herself turning red. No way was she going to tell these two anything about her lack of virginity, especially anything about Walt. It was bad enough that she remembered what she had said to Clay about the bastard, how she had compared the two men. She shut off her memories to concentrate on what Daria said next.

“There’s one more thing, and it’s very important,” Daria said. “The First Mating must be totally without physical or artificial barriers. No condom, no diaphragm, no pills.”

“But . . .” Francie sputtered. Not in this day and age did one consider such a thing.

“It has to do with making the bond a secure one,” Daria said with an earnest look.

“Don’t worry, Clay’s healthy,” Gloriana interjected. “Mother makes sure we all have thorough physicals by practitioner doctors, and I know Daddy preached condoms to Clay even before his first girlfriend.” She gazed intently at Francie for a moment. “The subject of the First Mating brings us to the birth-control issue. Practitioners don’t have children unless both of them want to. We witches have our own spells to ensure it, and they don’t count as a barrier. You can’t conjure your own, but I can cast a contraceptive spell on you. They last about a year, and we usually renew them every six months to be certain. Would you like me to conjure the enchantment?”

Here it was, Francie said to herself. Decision time.

She had accepted the existence of magic. By agreeing to Gloriana’s spell, she would be agreeing Clay was her soul mate, agreeing the two of them belonged together, agreeing they would make love.

Daria leaned across the space between the couch and Francie’s chair and put a hand on Francie’s arm. “We’re not asking you to make a decision about Clay right this moment,” she said, “or even to tell us what it is, although I think you know how we would like you to decide. But the spell can’t hurt you, and it does protect you. We can always remove it later or simply let it wear off, whatever you like.”

If she took the spell, she couldn’t use the fear of pregnancy as a reason to reject him, Francie thought. She dithered for a moment, then took the leap. “Oh, what the heck,” she said with a sigh. “I might as well have it. Just in case. Not that I know what I’m going to do yet.” Her qualifications sounded hollow, even to her own ears. Her center gave a little lurch, and she could almost hear it say, “Liar.”

“Let me cast the spell, and then we’ll get out and you can think about all this without our influence,” Gloriana said as she rose and came over to stand beside Francie’s chair.

“What do I do?” Francie’s center was tingling again, and she could feel excitement beginning to bubble in her veins. She might be procrastinating, but the good old SMI seemed to have made up its mind about her decision.

“Just relax,” Gloriana said. She concentrated for a moment and reached over to lay her left hand on Francie’s abdomen. She made a complicated gesture with her right hand and then covered the left with it. Francie sensed a warmth settling in her core, and she blinked as a shimmer of light came and went on the periphery of her vision.

Gloriana stepped back. “There. That should take care of things for a while.”

“What did you feel?” Daria asked.

“Like I had a heating pad on my stomach for a moment,” Francie answered. “And there was a flicker like far-off lightning at the edge of my sight.”

“Good,” Gloriana said. “It means the spell took.”

“I want to try something,” Daria said. “I’m going to put one of my spells on myself. Tell me what you see, Francie.”

“Okay,” Francie agreed. She watched Daria closely. At first nothing at all happened; Daria didn’t even wiggle a finger. Then . . . “Oh.”

“What happened?” Daria asked.

“First a tiny, dim flash of blue light surrounded you, and then suddenly I had the absolute feeling I could trust you and should tell you the truth. What does that mean?”

“I think it means you’re extremely sensitive to magic,” Daria replied. “I put only a minuscule amount of power into the spell. Even the vast majority of practitioners would have been unaffected. As a nonpractitioner, you shouldn’t have seen the light or had any ‘sudden,’ or definable feeling at all.”

“You’re almost as sensitive as I am,” Gloriana put in. “I could barely see the aura. But wait a minute.” She turned to Daria. “The spell affected Francie. If this were one of your interviews, she would have told you the truth without any questions. But if Francie and Clay are soul mates, and the members of a practitioner family are not affected by each other’s spells, how can she be feeling the enchantment?”

“Probably because they haven’t mated yet,” Daria answered and rose. “Come on, Glori, let’s get out of here and leave Francie in peace.”

“But I still have more questions,” Francie protested. “How does this all work in practice, and what happens . . .”

“I’m sure you do, but we’re not the ones to answer them,” Daria said with a kind smile. “Clay is.”

The sisters had their things together and were heading for the door before Francie could think of anything to say except a weak, “Thanks for all your help.”

Daria and Gloriana both gave Francie a hug. “We’ll get together later,” Daria promised.

“Don’t let him off the hook too easily,” Glori counseled.

“Don’t mind her, her mission in life has always been to give Clay a hard time,” was Daria’s rejoinder. “You’ll know what to do.” And then they were gone.

Francie shut the door and looked blankly around her apartment. “Magic. Soul mates,” she said aloud. “What am I going to do now?”

Her answer came in a stab of pain in the solar plexus so sharp, it robbed her of breath and almost bent her double.

“All right, I get the message,” she grumbled toward her middle. “Go to him.”

She staggered toward the bedroom to find her shoes, and the pain subsided. Should she call him first? What if he wasn’t home?

A needlelike twinge told her the SMI obviously wanted her moving, not on the phone.

“Okay, okay,” she told it as she sat down to put on her socks and sneakers. “That’s enough out of you.”

The spot subsided to its normal itchy condition.

Francie put her elbows on her knees and leaned her head on her hands. She had to be going crazy. First she was seeing dragons and panthers and balls of light in her own living room. Then she was agreeing she believed in magic. Now she was talking out loud to some implausible, invisible “concept,” an “imperative,” that had teeth and didn’t hesitate to bite. Next she would probably be trying to cast spells herself. She shook her head at the unreality of the situation.

Well, unreal or not, a significant transformation was happening to her, and she had to come to terms with it.

“It” had a name: soul mate. Clay’s soul mate. The concept did explain the intense, immediate attraction they felt for each other, the reaction each drew from the other. And the result, the culmination of all this confusion and craving and frustration and lust was a lifelong commitment to each other.

What had Daria said? Soul mates were “bound together.”

“Not complete without the other.”

And the clincher: “They are as in love with each other as it is possible for two people to be.”

Yes, she was in love with Clay Morgan. She might as well admit it. She lusted after his body, she craved his attention, she enjoyed his conversation, she longed for his companionship. She wanted his children.

She needed to be with him, no matter what, forever.

She felt a great calm settle over her as these last conclusions filtered through her mind, permeated her body, and settled in her bones. All her anxieties vanished, and the spot under her sternum hummed. Exhilarating excitement, fiery desire, and almost overwhelming joy mixed into a frothy brew that bubbled in her veins more than the most expensive champagne ever could. She realized she was hugging herself, holding on as if to stop from blasting off into space from sheer delirium.

She had to see Clay. He had said he wouldn’t come to her, so she had to go to him. She had to explain how she felt. She had to . . .

Forget her pride.

Apologize.

Beg his forgiveness.

Oh, God, this was going to be painful.

But he was her soul mate, wasn’t he? It meant he had to forgive her, didn’t it?

She took a deep breath to gird herself for battle. She could do nothing except go find out.

She looked at herself in the mirror as she rose to grab her purse. All she had on were old jeans and a ragged sweatshirt. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she had on no makeup. His sisters must have thought she looked like a bag lady.

She ran a brush through her hair, but when she contemplated taking the time to make up her face, the damn spot in the middle of her chest started itching like crazy.

“All right! I’m going!” She gave it a rap with her knuckles as she walked out the door.