Free Waiting for Magic by Susan Squires Page A

security detail that hovered in the corner, or the fact that Jane was right. He did call. The cover was that he wanted me to organize the volunteers.”
    “So, uh, you got a promotion? That’s good at least.”
    Kee sighed. “Yeah.” Christian had been very solicitous. They had talked business, haltingly. But there had been an undertone. He’d suggested dinner. Painful. Because nice as he was, she just couldn’t bear thinking about having “dates” with a full security detail when she wasn’t really interested. So she had said she couldn’t. Why wasn’t she interested in a cultured and handsome man? But there just wasn’t any spark there. “Father will be disappointed.”
    “Don’t worry about him.” Kemble fumbled with some papers, looking uncomfortable. “You’ll still be Daddy’s girl.”
    “Not you too. I don’t want to be Daddy’s girl. I don’t even want to be a good girl.”
    Kemble gave a hesitant smile. “But you always are. Even now you’re worried about disappointing him.” He shrugged. “But if you don’t like Christian, you don’t like him.”
    “I like him,” Kee protested. “Just not like … that.”
    “Give it another try,” Kemble suggested. “You might just have some fun. So what if he’s not the One and only?”
    Kee made a face. “Okay.” Maybe. End of subject. She looked out at the rain pounding against the French doors. “It never rains this much in November.”
    Kemble looked sort of relieved she’d closed the subject. “We’ve got an El Niño going this year. California’s in for a wild ride.”
    “That’s the warming of the ocean thing?”
    “Yes, at the equator. Good for the drought if we can get enough into the snowpack.”
    “All this rain is probably upping the suicide rate, too,” she said, her mouth wry. “It’s sure depressing me.”
    That got a grin out of him. Her oldest brother wasn’t as serious as he made out. “Hope you’re not contemplating anything like that. Christian would have to find someone else to supervise the volunteers.” He paused and examined her face. “If he’s made you unhappy enough to consider suicide, I’d be glad ruin his credit for you.”
    “No deal. He’s a nice guy.” But she’d bet her oldest brother was more than a match for Christian Coombs, for all her boss’s easy sophistication. “I’m not even sure why you’re offering. If I commit suicide I won’t be around to appreciate his suffering.”
    “That’s why I’m telling you now.”
    She suppressed a grin. “How’s the research coming?”
    Kemble turned serious. “We’ve been at this for nearly two weeks and Drew’s still getting nowhere. Chalices all seem to belong to the Church with no clear line to Merlin. Lots of references to wands, even back to early civilization. But no physical survivors she can find before about 1800, unless you count scepters, which could be like wands, so she’s concentrating on those. And we have no idea what a pentacle really is. They’re portrayed on the tarot cards as coins with a five-pointed star on them. But we can’t find any reference to coins like that. Drew says the version of the tarot deck with coins is pretty recent anyway.”
    “Oh. So how are you doing on Pendragon?”
    Kemble swiveled to his computer and just contemplated it for a moment. “He’s a bit of a conundrum. I couldn’t find a picture. There are references to him as early as 1920. So, either he’s one hundred twenty years old and about to kick the bucket, or they refer to his father. Magicians do sometimes bequeath their best tricks and their names to their progeny. His father was a member of the Golden Dawn back in the day, which explains a lot.” Kemble froze then peered out into the corridor. “Oh, hi, Devin,” he said, looking a little uncomfortable.
    Kee tried to swallow. She didn’t turn. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard her agreeing to go out with Christian? If he asked again.
    “Drew sends a