The Wizard of Seattle by Kay Hooper Read Free Book Online Page A

energies well enough that she usually didn’t explode light bulbs or cause other electrical problems merely by walking past.
    Merlin, alert in case she needed his instruction, waited until she relaxed and opened her eyes, signaling her success. He went to get a replacement bulb from a well-stocked closet. Serena watched him dispense with the broken pieces of the exploded bulb with a flick of his finger, then screw the replacement into the socket.
    She couldn’t help smiling, reflecting silently that wizards were strange creatures, an odd mixture of ancient and modern. At least he was, and she seemed to be, as well. They used their powers in a peculiar patchwork of ways, often for the sake of convenience and yet in no recognizable pattern.
    Serena herself had made up her bed with a sweep of her hand this morning, not because she was lazy or in the habit of doing it, but because she’d overslept and was in a hurry.
    Physical gestures were not necessary to spell-casting, Serena had been surprised—and a bit disappointed—tolearn; but the motions of the hands
did
tend to help focus concentration and were generally used, unless the wizard was in public or had some other reason for wishing to be inconspicuous. In any case Serena liked the ancient gestures.
    They made her feel like a wizard.
    As the new light bulb glowed to life, Merlin said almost absently, “Your powers are growing.”
    She knew they were; she could feel it.
    “Which makes it all the more vital that you learn to find the switch, Serena,” he continued, facing her again with a slight frown. “This spillover of energies—”
    “I know, it’s a waste and a danger,” she recited.
    Merlin’s frown deepened, but he shook his head a little in the traditional reluctant acceptance of teachers everywhere when they recognize a lack of attention in their pupils. He glanced at his watch—unlike Serena, he could wear one, and did, even though one of his many talents was a constant and perfect awareness of time.
    “It’s almost noon; you wanted to break?”
    “Yes.” Serena got up, shrugged out of her robe, and hung it near his. “Lunch. Rachel left a casserole for us, and I put it in the oven before we started this morning.”
    Merlin tended to forget about unimportant things like eating when his mind was occupied with his work, but between them, Serena and their housekeeper kept most meals on a fairly regular schedule. Rachel came in daily except weekends, and kept the freezer well stocked with quick and easy-to-prepare meals for the days Richard and Serena were on their own.
    It was up to Serena to make sure they observed regular meal times on weekends, and since she was almost always hungry, she rarely needed reminders herself. One delightful bonus of being a wizard, she had realized long ago, was an unusually high metabolic rate; expending as much energy as they did, both she and Merlin could eat anything they pleased, and tended to require more calories than normal people just to maintain their weights.
    “Are you going out tonight?” she asked him as they descended the stairs.
    “Yes. Dinner and a concert with Lenore Todd. How about you?” His tone was casual.
    “No. I’m going to stay blamelessly at home tonight and study that manual of incantations you added to my reading list,” she replied lightly.
    “Study but don’t practice,” he reminded her more or less automatically.
    Serena didn’t say I
know
again, contenting herself with a nod. She was tired of saying it. She had been warned so often about not practicing new skills without Merlin’s being present that it was beginning to annoy her. He just couldn’t stop treating her like a child, she thought.
    It didn’t help that she had felt a stab of jealousy about his date, even though she
knew
that he dated for the same reason she did—to maintain a normal appearance for friends, neighbors, and the rest of the society in which they lived. The importance of that appearance, made up of