as he said, but she never took those potent, all-seeing eyes from his. God, he loved her. He'd loved her from the second he'd set eyes on her, he thought. She sat in the overstuffed chair, but only after pulling another one closer, so he could sit facing her.
She knew he was still weak and dizzy. She seemed to know more about him than he did, most of the time. She had from the start.
He sat in the chair facing hers and took her hands in his. "I realized down there, when I was pretty sure I was going to die, that you were right. He's built up a lot of negativity, or bad karma, or whatever you want to call it. I figure, since I lived through all of this, I have the opportunity to make things right. Take that negative energy and redirect it into something positive."
"Really? How are you going to do that, Alex?"
"For starters, I'm going to sell this house and everything in it and give the money to St. Luke's School for Boys."
She smiled a little. He liked that, knew he was on the right track.
"Do you think you have to do that for me, Alex? Because you don't, you know. I've been falling in love with you since the first time you said my name. That's not going to change."
He smiled fully. "You think I haven't figured that out already? Hell, woman, you came charging in here unarmed and laid your life on the line for me. I kind of guessed that might mean you cared."
"Not overconfident or anything, are you?" she asked, her tone teasing.
"Not even close." He got to his feet, tugged her to hers. "Melissa, you are - you're good. You're so good that I feel like I want to be better. I want to be the kind of man who's worthy of loving a woman like you." He slid his arms around her waist, pulled her close to him.
"You already are, Alex," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. "I promise, you already are."
EPILOGUE
"Shhhh!" Melissa hissed. "It's starting!"
She sat in the arms of her husband, in front of the television in the living room of their beach house. There were people all around them. Bowls of popcorn, open pizza boxes, and lots of icy soft drinks covered every surface. The director was there, along with the two beautiful starlets and the new head writer, a woman who was a practicing Witch herself. Marinda was there as well, beaming with approval at her grandson and his wife and hinting about the greatgrandchildren she hoped wouldn't be too far away.
The season finale of The Enchantress began with the Witch as a guest at an authentic Wiccan wedding, with the bride and groom being played by none other than the creative consultant and the show's producer/creator.
The ceremony was built around Melissa and Alex's actual wedding, held in a grove of oaks, the guests forming a circle around them. Every flower and color and gift had a special spiritual significance, and the officiating minister was a Wiccan High Priestess by the name of Marinda Simone.
Of course, in the script the ceremony was interrupted by some ill-intentioned demon and the Enchantress was forced to vanquish him, but at least she didn't accomplish that by a deadpan recitation of a rhyming couplet from a book. Thanks to the new writing team, the poor, overworked Witch was forced to do research, determine the best astrological timing, find and gather appropriate herbs, stones, and candles, call on the Divine, and channel her power from the elements of Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit. Also thanks to the new writing team, the show's ratings had climbed through the roof. Every episode dropped a tiny bit of Witchlore or ancient wisdom, all wrapped up in a damn good story, and the viewers couldn't get enough.
When the credits rolled and everyone inside was celebrating, high-fiving each other, cracking a few beers, Alex took Melissa's hand and tugged her with him, through the sliding doors, and down onto their special place on the beach.
"I need you with me for this," he told her. Then he pulled something from his pocket: the gold pentacle that had belonged to his father.
"Alex?" She searched his eyes. "Honey, I thought we were going to keep that put away?"
He nodded. "We were. But I don't think keeping it in a locked box in the back of the closet is really good enough. Not even after all