Easy Magic (Boudreaux #5)

“Could you wait to do that?” I ask and work on gathering my own thoughts. I’m still not acknowledging Miss Louisa, who’s finally fed up with being ignored and disappears altogether. I can’t feel her presence at all now, and I take a deep, cleansing breath.

“That mirror has been on that wall as long as I can remember,” he murmurs and sits next to me again. “The nail must have given out.”

“No.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and offer him a smile. “That’s not what happened.”

“Your hands are shaking,” he says and takes them in his, kisses my knuckles, and pins me in his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“We agreed not to lie,” he says firmly.

“You’re right.” I pull out of his touch and cross my arms over my chest, already distancing myself from him.

He’s not going to like this. That’s not a guess, and I still can’t read him, but I know how most people in my life has reacted, and I don’t expect him to be any different.

“Mal?”

“I can see things,” I reply immediately. “That mirror didn’t fall because of a bad nail.”

His eyes narrow, and he sits back, unconsciously distancing himself, and a little piece of my heart breaks. I’m not ready for this to be over. I’m not ready to say goodbye to him.

I feel like I’ve finally started to live a normal life since he came into it.

“Why did it fall, Mal?”

I love the way he says my name.

“Because a ghost named Miss Louisa made it fall.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t,” I reply, suddenly frustrated. “You don’t see at all.”

“Okay, tell me.” He leans toward me again, and I can’t stand the thought of him touching me right now so I stand, wrap my blouse around me, and begin to pace his living room. How did we suddenly go from about to make love to me explaining all about my crazy psychic abilities?

“I’m not sure how much to say,” I reply honestly.

“Tell me everything.”

I stop and turn to look at him, memorizing every line of his face, the way his shirt fits over his amazingly sculpted body, and how he still has a bit of fondness for me in his whiskey eyes.

“I’m the latest in a long line of women with paranormal abilities.” If I keep it sounding scientific, business-like, maybe it’ll come out easier. “As far back as we know, and we have records going back about eight hundred years, the women in my father’s lineage have been psychic, empathic, and/or mediums.”

“Do they always have all of those abilities?” he asks, rubbing his fingertips along his chin, like he’s thinking about what I’m telling him.

“Not always. Sometimes they’ve had one, or a combination of them. Sometimes they’ve had more, like being able to see the future, clairvoyance, and more scary things like being able to climb inside another person’s consciousness, and kill them.”

He’s staring at me, his jaw tight, and I wish more than ever that I knew what he was thinking.

“How many of those do you have?”

“I’m an empath, I am clairvoyant, and I’m a medium.”

“You see the dead.”

I nod and fold my hands at my waist. “Hence, Miss Louisa throwing her little tantrum here tonight.”

“Do you practice witchcraft?” he asks, which makes me smile. People who know little about psychic abilities often assume that witchcraft is linked to it.

“I don’t,” I reply. “They don’t really go together. I do, however, have friends who do. Lena and her grandmother are two of them. And Lena has some psychic ability as well.”

“Why was that funny?”

“None of this is funny,” I reply soberly. “It’s just that many people link witchcraft with being psychic, but they really don’t always have anything to do with each other.”

He stands and paces to the window that looks out over Jackson Square and takes a deep breath.

“Look, if you’re done here, I get it.” I cross to him and touch his shoulder. He doesn’t pull away from my touch, which I take as a good sign. “It’s weird, and for some people it’s scary.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” he replies and turns to me, drawing me in for a long, tight hug. Tears come now, but I don’t want him to see them, so I keep my face buried in his chest and cling to him. “I don’t want to be done here, Mal.”

“I distance myself from people for a reason,” I murmur. “I haven’t done that with you, and it’s felt so good.”

We’ve agreed to be honest, and I really don’t have anything to lose at this point.

Except him.

But I might lose him anyway, so I might as well be frank.

“Why haven’t you done that with me?”

I swallow, not sure how to answer him.

“Part of what I do is, I can read what others feel and think when they touch me, or if I accidentally touch them.”

“That’s why you don’t like to be touched.”

I nod. “It’s an emotional rollercoaster to say the least. Happiness, fear, sadness, anger, and every other emotion there is will hit me like a sledgehammer. I can hear thoughts. Worries. Sometimes it’s as clear as if they’d voiced it aloud.”

“What am I thinking right now?” he asks.

I DON’T KNOW!

“That you’d like me to leave and take my crazy with me?”

He tips my chin up so he can look me in the eyes. “You know that’s not what I’m thinking.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t get it.”

“That’s the thing, Beau. I can’t read you. At all. When you touch me, a cool calmness settles over me that makes me feel…well, safe for lack of a better word.”

“So you can’t tell when I’m so hot for you I can’t stand it? Or when I think you’re funny, or beautiful?”

“I can tell that you’re hot for me because of the way you look at me, but not because I can read your mind.” He smiles down at me like he just won the lottery. “I’ve never experienced this before, Beau. Sometimes it unnerves me when I want to know what you’re thinking, but mostly it’s just such a relief. I am just a woman with you.”

“You’re not just anything, sweetheart, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that it’s a relief for me as well. You’d have me at quite the disadvantage if you knew what I was thinking all the time and I was clueless. How’s a man supposed to surprise you?”

“I’m not wild about surprises. They aren’t usually a good thing.”

“We’ll see if we can change your mind about that,” he says and leans in to kiss my forehead. “And Miss Louisa will just have to get used to me kissing you. In fact, she can go mind her own business.”

I smirk. “It doesn’t creep you out?”

“Having a ghost watch me make love to a beautiful woman?” He tips his head as if he’s giving it real thought. “Well, I’ve never been an exhibitionist in the past, but…” He shrugs. “Do you typically have an audience?”

“No.” I giggle and shake my head. “This was actually a first. I hope we don’t repeat it.”

“Me too.” He sobers and drags his knuckles down my cheek. “How do you feel?”

“Better.” I sigh, realizing it’s the truth. “Much better, actually.”