Christmas Coda--No. Wait.

 

This morning's coda is actually a Halloween Coda for Cosmo Saville and John Galbraith of the Bedknobs and Broomsticks series.   That wasn't the original plan, but plans change as I am here to tell you. 

Anyway, this coda follows the end of Bell, Book and Scandal.

 

When I got home, I found John peering inside the 19th century wedding armoire carved with carved love birds, flowers, and acanthus leaves, given to us by my great-aunt Laure d’Estrées.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Ex-navy SEALS do not jump in surprise, but he definitely gave a little start, before turning to face me. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I tried something different and it worked.”

His dark brows drew together. “Oh…kay.” He was a little perplexed, I could see that.

“I didn’t have to use kiddie Craft. I just thought of this room and I was able to step into it.”

John said slowly, “You mean you materialized?”

“Close enough.”

“That’s new.”

I nodded. “Yes. Do you mind?”

He was still frowning as he reached me, but he said, “Of course not. You live here too. You can enter rooms however you please.”

“You don’t like magic though.”

He dipped his head to kiss me, murmured, “I make exceptions.” He kissed me lightly, then drew back. His expression uncharacteristically concerned. “You’re like ice, Cos. Are you all right? You’re so pale.”

“Oh yes.” I smiled and titled my head back to kiss him.

But John rested his hands on my shoulders, examining me. “There are twigs in your hair and you’ve got a scratch over your eye. Were you running through the brush?”

I laughed.

His alarm increased. “Are you on something?”

I laughed again, shook my head. “No.”

“Your pupils are huge.” Immediately, he was all business. “We need to get you in bed and warm.”

“That sounds wonderful.” I wrapped my arms around his neck.

He kissed me, but it was almost absent-minded, as he efficiently and swiftly undressed me. “What happened up there in those hills?”

I only smiled.

Magic things. Wondrous things. Secret things.

He said a little grimly, “You were drinking, that I can tell.”

“Well, yeah.” I kept kissing him, and he kept kissing me back in that quick, distracted way, and then he scooped me up and tumbled me into our bed, building a nest of blankets and pillows around me.

I shoved the bedding away, tugging him down. “Make love to me, my consort.”

John snorted. “That again.” But he lowered himself beside me.

“It’s true though.” I stared at him, and I could see that despite the hardness of his face, he was genuinely worried for me.

I smiled. “Truly, I’m fine, John. Just a little chilled.” I teased, “And with your military background, surely you can take care of that?”

He regarded me for moment, but apparently what he saw in my face reassured him. He shook his head, said, “I know a trick or two…”

 

It was quite a bit later, when he muttered, “Did the bed move?” 

I laughed shakily. “I don’t doubt it.”

“No. I’m asking.”

“Hmm?”

“Because I thought it lifted a few inches at one point.”

The words slowly sank in. I blinked back to wakefulness, thinking it over.

“It’s possible. It’s a witch’s bed.”

“That, I know. But it’s never tried to fly before.”

“No, I mean, it was built for a witch. Originally crafted for a witch. Not me.”

The bed in question was a black and bronze Victorian antique four-poster with a superbly cast brass plaque decoration in the shape of a five-pointed star and one perfect crystal knob atop each tall and graceful post.

I turned my head to study John’s face in the soft lamplight. “That’s one of the things that’s so funny about your wanting this bed so much. That star on the footboard is a witch’s star.”

He was silent and then finally he said, “I didn’t want the bed for myself. I wanted it for Jinx.”

“But that’s even funnier, really.”

Given John’s feelings about Jinx “dabbling” in the occult.

He wasn’t laughing though. He was still thinking it through.

I changed the subject, “Maybe you were dreaming?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

I didn’t think so either. In fact, I had wondered about the bed for a while. Those crystal knobs were real crystal. The kind used for scrying stones.

John said suddenly, “It wasn’t the bed that I wanted. It was you.”

I grinned. “Now you’re rewriting history. You most definitely did not want me.”

We had come a long way if I could laugh about that.

John pushed back a little, reached over and brushed my hair from eyes, holding my gaze with his own. “Of course I did. Whether I knew it or not. Everyone needs a little magic in their lives.”