The Wizard of Seattle Read online

  “I just wish you didn’t have to take commissions from people like that,” Jane muttered.

  Seth frowned suddenly. “I know that’s the way you feel, Janie, but it isn’t what’s bugging you now. You look guilty as hell. What’ve you done?”

  A sudden burst of laughter that was audible even over the music drew Jane’s attention, and she saw Serena dancing quite gracefully in the arms of Jeremy Kane, even though he was indisputably drunk and loudly amused about something.

  “What’s Serena doing with Kane?” Seth wanted to know.

  “Dancing, obviously.”

  “Smartass. You know damned well what I meant by that. It’s bad enough that the man’s a mean drunk, he also happens to write a syndicated column that’s nothing less than a weekly character assassination. Serena’s got no business anywhere around that son of a bitch.”

  Since Seth had seen his character assassinated in Kane’s column some years previously, his bitterness was understandable.

  Jane cleared her throat and tried not to look even more guilty. “Well, Kane’s on the committee handing out that grant, you know.”

  Seth closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “You dared her to go pump him for info, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t mean to, it just slipped out. Seth, do you think maybe you should go get her?”

  “Why?” he asked, surprised.

  “If she’s in over her head—”

  With a short laugh Seth said, “Janie, you ought to know your friend better than that. With the possible exceptions of Richard and myself, Serena can wrap any man in the room around her little finger—including Jeremy Kane, drunk or sober.”

  “Then why’d you say she had no business anywhere around him?” Jane asked, a bit indignant.

  “Because it’s true. I don’t doubt she’ll get whatever she’s after from him, but she may be opening Pandora’s box to do it. In case you haven’t noticed, almost every curious eye in the room is on them. After the little stunt she pulled with that actor last year, her reputation isn’t exactly the greatest. Flirting with Jeremy Kane won’t help.”

  Ever loyal, Jane said, “I still say it wasn’t Serena’s fault that guy fell for her and made a fool of himself. What was she supposed to do when his publicist kept slyly hinting there’d soon be wedding bells?”

  “She might have just waited until it all blew over,” Seth noted dryly. “But, no, not our Serena. She had to take matters into her own hands. Calling a press conference to announce in no uncertain terms how hilarious she found the very idea of marrying the poor guy wasn’t exactly subtle.”

  Jane started to respond, but changed her mind. Though she’d never said so to either Serena or Seth, Jane had the odd idea that some, if not all, of Serena’s very public “affairs” during the past few years had been nothing more than a whole lot of smoke disguising little or no fire. As if she had quite deliberately painted the portrait of a woman who enjoyed men without getting serious about any of them.

  That press conference, for instance—Jane found it completely out of character. Serena was a private woman, yet she had deliberately sought out public attention and had presented herself as, at best, a woman careless with both her good name and the feelings of others. It was a wildly inaccurate characterization, as any of her friends would have attested, yet Serena had seemingly cultivated it.

  For some reason known only to herself, Serena coolly and methodically sacrificed her reputation in order to protect something more important to her.

  That was the feeling Jane had, but as close as they were, Jane had never challenged her friend on that point. Serena had a way of laughingly, but quite firmly, discouraging questions about topics she preferred not to discuss, and her love life was definitely hands off even to her best friend. Yet Jane wouldn’t have been terribly surprised if Serena had confessed to being a virgin; there was a look of innocence in those bright green eyes, something unawakened, untouched.

  Probably what attracted men so wildly, Jane had decided.

  “Look at that,” Seth was saying disgustedly. “She practically had to pour him into his chair. Huh. She has muscle under that lovely skin.”

  Jane wasn’t dismayed or made jealous by the remark; she had learned a long time ago that Seth’s appreciation of other women was aesthetic and impersonal.

  “D’you think she’d sit for me?” he asked absently as he watched Serena coming toward them. That this sudden interest in Serena had come about because she had surprised him was characteristic of him. He generally preferred to paint people he didn’t know rather than those he did, claiming that foreknowledge of a subject clouded his artistic perception.

  “Only if you appeal to her sense of self-discovery, not her vanity,” Jane advised. “Tell her you can show her something about herself she can’t see in a mirror, and I’d bet she wouldn’t hesitate to sit for you.”

  Seth nodded slightly and rose to hold Serena’s chair for her, but when he spoke, it wasn’t to entice her to pose for him. “It would serve you right if he drooled all down your neck,” he said severely.

  With a low laugh Serena said, “Well, he didn’t. I’ll have a slight bruise on the rear where he pinched me, but otherwise he was almost a perfect gentleman.” Then she lifted an eyebrow at Jane. “You owe me ten bucks.”

  “What did he say?” Jane asked, forgetting everything but her eagerness to know about the grant.

  Serena looked at Seth with a smile. “Congratulations.”

  His thin face lit up, but he shook his head. “How much faith should you place in the word of a drunk?”

  “Very little,” Serena agreed. “Which is why I’m glad he has the rough draft of the announcement in his pocket. The grant’s yours, kiddo.”

  “I’m gonna go find some champagne,” Seth said delightedly. He kissed Serena’s cheek, then strode off in search of a bottle to celebrate his good fortune.

  Jane had a streak of uncompromising logic in her nature, and that made itself apparent when she asked, “Why would he have a draft of the announcement in his pocket? It won’t be made until next week.”

  “I don’t know,” Serena said, totally unconcerned. “But he has.”

  “And how did you find it, pull it out, and read it while you were dancing without making Kane just a tad suspicious?” Jane wanted to know.

  Serena widened her eyes innocently. “Isn’t it a good thing he’s so drunk, he never even noticed?”

  Jane didn’t completely buy the answer, but as with so many of Serena’s answers, she found herself accepting it against her better judgment. She did want to ask if Serena was sure Kane wouldn’t figure out what she’d been after once he eventually sobered up, but Seth came bounding back to their table just then with champagne, and she let the subject drop.

  Serena didn’t drink often, so perhaps the champagne went to her head. At least, that was her defense later.

  It had all started innocently enough with the bet. Kane had been ridiculously simple to manage while they were dancing, drunkenly talking about how he’d written the draft of the announcement awarding the grant. It had been easy—once she’d gotten the address of his apartment out of him—to send for the paper and have it appear in Kane’s pocket.

  That trick was so elementary, she’d been able to do it before she hit her teens.

  Having brought the announcement to Kane, she’d had only to put her hand over his breast pocket to know what it said. And once she’d poured Kane back into his chair, it had seemed only humane to put him to sleep so he wouldn’t spend the rest of the evening offending people and pickling his liver.

  She should have stopped there. Actually, what she should have done was skip the champagne, because it always made her reckless. But she had to toast Seth’s good fortune and share Jane’s happiness, and one thing led to another….

  It was nothing major, she assured herself at various points throughout the evening. Just simple little things that hardly mattered. Besides that, a lot of these people were he
r friends, and friends helped each other.

  So when one friend, while dancing with her, complained of having lost a treasured heirloom ring the day before, she sort of found it for him and placed it in his pocket—and hoped he’d check the pockets before he took the tuxedo to be cleaned. And when another friend talked to her about a very important business meeting she dreaded attending on Monday, Serena gave her a small gift of confidence.

  Several other friends received modest gifts, as well, ranging from a boost of willpower to help a smoker kick the habit to the deft manipulation of a virus to keep another friend from becoming ill in the coming week.

  Healing was by no means Serena’s strong suit. In fact, it had only recently been introduced into her potpourri of skills, and she had mastered just the rudiments. So the practice couldn’t hurt, she thought.

  By eleven-thirty that evening Serena had consumed three glasses of champagne and had bestowed a number of “gifts.” She was standing alone near the bar, and was just about to send another little present winging across the room when a hand closed gently but firmly around her upraised wrist.

  “No, Serena.”

  The hand, large and long-fingered, was a powerful hand, a beautiful hand, and quite distinct. She would have known it anywhere.

  She lifted her gaze to the man’s face, making her eyes wide and guileless. “No?”

  “No.” His voice was deep, calm, resonant. A voice that made people sit up straighter and listen to whatever he had to say. “I believe you’ve done quite enough for one night.”

  “I didn’t do anything major, Richard,” she protested.

  Richard Merlin shook his head slightly, his lean, broodingly handsome face holding a touch of wryness. “No, of course not. You never do. They’re playing a waltz, Serena. Dance with me.”

  Her wrist still held captive, Serena followed him out onto the dance floor, a bit amused that he hadn’t waited for her response. But then, why would he? He hadn’t asked—he’d commanded. As usual. Given their relationship, it wasn’t surprising, but Serena bore the seemingly high-handed attitude only because she knew very well Richard intended no domination of her personality when he commanded.

  Both skilled and graceful, they danced well together and made a striking couple. It was rare they appeared as a couple at any social function; both usually brought dates to this kind of event. In fact, their public relationship as uncle and niece was so solid, few had ever questioned it—and those few were merely vaguely skeptical without being truly suspicious.

  “I really didn’t do anything significant,” Serena insisted as they danced.

  “Serena, how many times must I tell you that everything is significant? Every action, no matter how minor, could have unimaginable consequences.” The statement held the sound of a litany, often repeated, patient and unwavering.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right, I know. Because the powerless people might notice, and they’d probably see us as a threat to them. And then it’d be the Salem witch hunts all over again, except that they’d use psychologists and scientists to try to dissect and denounce us instead of priests with dunking stools, thumbscrews, and the rack.”

  He looked down at her for several beats, then said, “How much have you had to drink?”

  “More than usual,” she admitted cheerfully. “Seth wanted to celebrate, and he kept filling my champagne glass. I could hardly say no.”

  Merlin nodded. “Now I understand why you were dancing with Jeremy Kane earlier—to find out about the grant. I gather it will be awarded to Seth?”

  “Yes, isn’t it great?”

  “He deserves it. But did you have to pick a man like Kane from whom to get the information, Serena?”

  “There was nobody else here who’s on the committee,” she explained ingenuously.

  Merlin’s mouth twitched slightly, but his expression remained forbidding. “It’s never wise to tempt the fates, and ensnaring a newspaper reporter, even a drunk, is asking for trouble. How did you do it?”

  She answered readily. “He said he’d typed up the rough draft of an announcement about the grant and left it at his apartment, so I just sent for it to come to his pocket.”

  “And did you also send it back where it came from?”

  Serena shook her head guiltily. “No, I … I forgot. I was so excited about Seth winning….” She turned her head to search the room. “But I left him at his table, so—”

  “He’s gone.” Merlin sighed. “Guests who pass out at these functions are usually discreetly removed and sent home in a cab; Kane was carried out an hour ago.”

  “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Well, still, it won’t matter. He was so drunk, he’ll never be sure he didn’t stick the announcement in his pocket himself.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Merlin murmured.

  A bit unsettled by his frown, Serena said, “Richard, Kane’s a long way from the reporter he used to be. He hasn’t broken a story in fifteen years; I doubt he’d recognize one if it stood in front of him waving its arms. There’s no way he’ll get suspicious of me, I promise you.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Merlin repeated.

  The music changed smoothly just then, from a waltz to a much slower and more intimate beat. It enticed the dancers to move closer and speak in murmurs. The lights in the huge room, already fairly low, dimmed even more.

  Merlin automatically shifted his hold on Serena, drawing her a bit closer as their steps slowed. No observer was likely to have mistaken them for lovers even then, but their nearness made Serena struggle inwardly not to tense in his arms. She tried to avoid situations such as this one, maintaining their necessary charade in public by treating Richard exactly as a niece would treat the uncle who had virtually raised her, with affection and the gentle mockery that came with it.

  She was usually successful.

  Now she spoke quickly to keep her mind off the sensation of his hand at the small of her back, and his body too close to hers.

  “I’m surprised Kane’s the one you’re worried about, actually. I did a few other things tonight, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” Merlin replied dryly. “Remind me to keep you away from champagne from now on. I’ll remind myself to keep a closer eye on you.”

  It was Serena’s turn to frown. “I don’t like the sound of that at all. I’m not a child anymore, Richard.”

  He didn’t meet her eyes, but gazed past her, and when he spoke, there was an odd note in his voice she couldn’t define. “Yes, I know that, as well. But you still lack control. Self-control, perhaps.”

  She felt ridiculously sulky. “I just wanted to help my friends. What’s wrong with that?”

  The childishness of her words and tone drew his gaze back to her face, and he smiled. “In the general scheme of things, nothing at all. But you can’t help everyone, Serena. Besides that, people are meant to solve their own problems, to use their own abilities, skills, and intelligence. I’ve tried to teach you that. I’ve tried to make you understand that we can’t cure the ills of the world.”

  Serena knew she still looked petulant; she could feel how far her bottom lip was sticking out. But she was honestly perplexed. “I don’t see why we can’t try. I mean, what’s so awful about me finding a lost ring for Thomas, or … or boosting Maggie’s confidence before a big meeting, or fixing it so that Chris doesn’t get the flu next week?”

  Only the last part of the demand prompted Merlin’s concern. “The flu? Serena, you aren’t ready to heal yet.”

  “I didn’t do anything major,” she repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time this evening. “And it wasn’t really healing, since he isn’t sick yet. I just made the virus inert, that’s all.”

  Looking stern, Merlin said, “You must promise me to never again attempt any kind of healing until I say you’re ready. It’s the most complex skill you’ll ever learn, and demands a great deal more knowledge of human biology than you have yet.”

  Sobered by his grave tone, she nodd
ed. “All right, I promise.”

  He relaxed visibly. Though she was a sometimes difficult pupil, Serena’s word was as good as gold.

  “But what if I’ve already screwed up?” she went on, worried now. “I might have given poor Chris the bubonic plague or something even worse.”

  “I doubt it. But I’ll check him before we leave, just to make sure.”

  The band finished with a flourish then, and they went back to their table. Seth and Jane had disappeared, undoubtedly to celebrate further their good fortune, and Serena felt a stab of pure envy. Even with all the occasional hassles and confusions, their lives seemed so simple to her, and their relationship was so clear—and normal.

  She wondered, not for the first time, if her friends could even begin to imagine how different her life was.

  “I see Chris near the door,” Merlin said, draping Serena’s glittery evening shawl around her shoulders. As she turned to face him, he added slowly, “I don’t think …” He went very still, his black eyes almost glowing, they were so intense.

  The look was familiar to Serena, but each time she saw it she felt respect and wonder and a great deal more, because at such times the incredible power in him was literally tangible. She stood gazing up at him, waiting, unaware that her heart was in her eyes for that brief moment, and that anyone who saw would have known a truth she had spent a great deal of effort to obscure.

  Anyone would have known her secret—except the man she was looking at.

  Merlin relaxed, then looked down at her. His eyes were still vibrant, though they no longer radiated so much of his inner power. “Chris is fine, Serena. You did turn the virus inert.”

  She drew a quick breath. “Good. You had me worried there for a while. I sure won’t forget my promise, you can bet on that.”

  He took her arm and began steering her toward an exit. “No, I’m sure you won’t.”

  Serena looked up at him with curiosity as they wended their way from the ballroom and toward the front of the hotel. She kept her voice low and chose her words carefully, conscious of the other departing guests all around them. “You’ve never asked me to promise not to … um … practice what you’ve taught me. The way I did tonight. Why not?”