Page 28 of The Book of Magic

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When she was done, the professor was still paralyzed; that was when she understood she needed help. “Stay exactly where you are, until I come back.”

An American, Ian thought. Telling me what to do.

His gaze fell on her as if he were spellbound. For all Sally knew he’d lost his hearing, so she leaned in close and told him what she wanted. He wasn’t deaf and could hear perfectly well; all of his senses were working, perhaps too well. Heat streamed through his body, and he was abashed to be so thoroughly seen, and what’s more, to be so completely aroused by a woman who was nothing more than a stranger and a witch telling him what to do in his own house.

“Once I help you, you’ll owe me your loyalty.” This was the bargain, about to be sealed. She seized a small pair of scissors on the night table and cut herself, then took his hand and made a similar slash across his palm. Their blood spilled onto the sheets and he saw that hers was black, and he congratulated himself on being right about her. “You’ll return the favor to me,” Sally said.

For once, Ian was willing to oblige. Get me out of this and I’m yours, he found himself thinking. His heart was burning and he’d never known such pain, but his left arm was fine so perhaps it wasn’t a stroke after all, but something else entirely.

Oh, shit, Ian thought as he realized what it was. This cannot be the way it happens.

PART THREE The Book of Wonder

I.

To remove the malediction afflicting Ian, Dracaena draco must be obtained, a cure composed from the bark of the Draco tree, which only grew in the Canary Islands and in Morocco and was said to sprout from the scarlet blood of a dragon. The red resin it produced could generate miraculous results, affecting the cortex cells, so that if one was paralyzed, either in the body or mind, the resin poured onto cold washcloths could cure the afflicted person in a matter of hours. Vincent had rummaged through the professor’s desk to find a directory of local herbal shops, then he and Gillian had gone off to the nearest one, which fortunately was just around the corner on Needham Road. The costly Dracaena draco, which was stored in a metal cannister at the shop, was kept safe under the watchful eye of the clerk.

“It’s expensive,” the clerk warned. He took a moment to observe the old fellow who looked strangely familiar. “Do I know you?” he asked.

Vincent shrugged, evading the truth. You know the song, but you don’t know me. “We’ll take as much of the herb as you have. Quickly, please.”

They also purchased a sheaf of the Draco’s leaves, to be used as a stimulant when boiled with water. The afflicted was to gargle, then, when he could open his mouth, spit out the red residue, never swallowing the mixture. Once a person’s mouth and tongue were coated, the potent chemicals of the tree would be incorporated into his bloodstream.

Franny was waiting for them at the threshold of the flat when Vincent and Gillian arrived with the proper ingredients.

“How’s the historian?” Vincent asked.

“He’ll live whether he wants to or not,” Franny answered. “We’ll see to that.”

While Vincent and Gillian continued to search through the office for any references that might be helpful, Franny returned to the bedchamber, where Sally quickly set to applying washcloths soaked with Draco, assessing Ian Wright as she did. He had a long, dark knot of hair, and handsome angular features. She tried not to focus on his face, that was too personal. Ankles, legs, torso, chest, most of it covered with ink. Sally quickly became familiar with him. The cage of his ribs, his well-muscled arms. He was lanky and tall; she could tell he was a runner, as her daughter was. She would not think of Kylie for those thoughts were unbearable and fraught with dread. Instead she concentrated on the man before her, whose glance caught hers. Black eyes flecked with gold that gave nothing away, even when he was in the throes of pain.

A wild card, she thought. A man who will always do as he pleases. She then found herself thinking, Let’s just see about that.

The historian flinched when the resin burned, but Sally said, “Stop that,” and he complied. Very odd, since he never did as he was told. Ian closed his eyes and let the cure sink in. He groaned, which was clearly a good sign; sensation in his body was coming back to him and as it did he began to feel pain and then elation.

As Sally rinsed the washcloths in a pan of warm water, she blinked in the shimmer of all the red that she saw. One thing that had not been affected by the poison was Ian’s male member, over which Franny had thrown a hand towel for modesty’s sake. “He’s certainly not shy,” Franny said, clearly amused.

What sort of professor was he anyway? The illustrated man, a revelation of pain and beauty, his soul laid bare. Sally wondered if his students and clients who came to him for help had any idea what could be found beneath his clothes. When he took women to bed did he leave the lights off or blindfold them, did he wear his clothes to keep himself hidden so that he didn’t reveal the story of who he was? Sally had blundered upon him naked and unhidden and therefore knew the answer to who he was from the start. Magic was everything to him.

Sally was deeply unsettled as she considered the afflicted man, wondering if they could bring him back. Franny herself had been unmoored in much the same manner when she walked into Haylin’s hospital room thinking perhaps she had lost him, to illness or to another woman. “If this is upsetting you, I can take care of him,” Franny offered, interested in what her niece’s response might be.

Sally shook her head and continued the treatment. Ian made a gurgling sound every time she spooned tiny portions of the Draco mixture into his mouth. Too much of the elixir and the cure would do more damage than the hex it was meant to correct. Franny had already soaked the dark materials that had been left to seal the curse—a poppet and a bird’s heart and bones—using rubbing alcohol to lessen their effectiveness. Someone wished to be rid of Ian, that much was clear, or, at the very least, damage him. Franny tore the soaking-wet poppet apart with a darning needle she carried in her purse. In no time the foul doll was nothing more than string and batting, its power dissolving in a small pile of ash. Franny felt that whoever had set this hex had done so by the book, rather than by the strength of their own magic. All the same, just to make certain, she untied the bundle of bird bones and tossed them out the window, and finally she burned the red thread that had tied them together over a candle while reciting the incantation that would send the intended malediction back to its original owner.

Contere bracchia iniqui rei. Et linguia maligna subvertetur.

Franny left a folded piece of red paper in each of the four corners of the room. On all four she had written the incantation to cast away evil.

Omnis spiritus laudet dominum. Habent Moses et prophetas.