Stormwalker (10 page)

He touched me in ways I’d never been touched before, his strong hands stroking my breasts, my hips, my buttocks. He tasted me and taught me how to taste him, then he taught me everything I needed to know about going to bed with a man.

My time with him that night was wicked and glorious. He went slow, didn’t laugh at my ignorance, and never let it hurt.

I woke early the next morning to find him sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his jeans, my open wallet in his hands.

I sat up with a gasp, my bubble of happiness bursting. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Going through your wallet,” Mick answered calmly. There wasn’t much in it but my spare change, my driver’s license, and a photo of my father in a formal velvet shirt and silver clasp on his string tie. He rarely wore those things, but never let anyone photograph him if he wasn’t dressed up. I had nothing else, no credit cards or bank cards, not even a library card.

“How far did you expect to get on this?” Mick held up the five and three ones he’d plucked from inside.

I shrugged as though money didn’t interest me. “Back home.”

“To Many Farms? That’s a long ride. I don’t think so.” Mick slid a roll of cash out of his pocket and held it out to me. “This might help.”

I stared at the money, first in shock, then in anger. I grabbed the wad and shoved it at his face. “You sleaze. I should make you eat this. I’m not a hooker.”

He stared at me in surprise, then lifted his hands away, not touching me or the cash. “You’ll need gas if you’re going to ride with me. Consider it a loan if you’re too proud for a handout.”

I immediately felt stupid and dropped the money on the bed. “Who says I want to ride with you?”

“I’d like you to.” Mick gave me his most charming smile. “I’d be honored if you did.”

I met his gentle kiss with my own, and then the kiss turned hot. It was a long time before we got up for breakfast.

I stayed with Mick for six months. He taught me amazing things about magic, about fixing up my Harley, about sex. I was more intimate with him than I’d been with anyone in my entire life, but though he was both tender and wicked, I never learned any more about him than I had the first night.

Then he started disappearing. He’d leave for days at a time while I waited for him in some little town with nothing to do. Or he’d leave me a note telling me to meet him in another town in a few days. And I’d do it.

I finally left him on my birthday. I’d followed his directions to meet him at a motel in Louisiana, arriving to find that he’d booked a room, scattered it with rose petals, and left a bottle of champagne and a cake that read “Happy Birthday, Janet” in pink lettering on the table. I found a bottle of bubble bath sitting beside the large tub in the bathroom, the lip of the tub surrounded by candles. I sat in the room alone for an hour, looking at the cake, until I heard his motorcycle.

I got up and put my clothes back into my one bag and put on my coat. I was zipping the bag when Mick opened the door, clad in a leather jacket against January cold. He leaned on the frame and watched me, then came all the way inside and shut the door.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Leaving.”

He gave me his warm Mick smile. “Why? You don’t like cake?”

“How did you know it was my birthday?”

“You told me. Didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t. I never talk about my birthday, for obvious reasons.”

Mick shrugged, his leather jacket creaking. “It’s on your driver’s license. I guess I remembered from that.”

“From going through my wallet the night we met.”

Mick’s eyes started going dark. “I wanted to surprise you.”

I knew that. He’d wanted this to be a treat for me, which was nice of him. He’d decided we should celebrate a day I’d never celebrated. He wanted to make it special.

I wanted to throw the cake in his face. “So when is your birthday?” I asked him.

He just looked at me, absently brushing back a stray curl that had escaped his ponytail. “You know, I’m not sure.”

“Everyone knows their birthday. And if they don’t, they make one up. What does it say on your driver’s license?”

“Does it matter?”

“You don’t have a license, do you? We’ve been riding around for six months, and you’ve never been asked to show it. Even when we get stopped, somehow, you manage it that they never ask you for yours.”

He shrugged. “I like to keep my private life private.”

“From everyone, including me. Where do you go, Mick? Why do you expect me to be waiting for you when you disappear?”

“Knowing you’re waiting gives me a reason to hurry back,” he said in a soft voice.

“You didn’t answer the other question.”

“It’s nothing you need to know about.” His voice was still quiet. Mick never yelled at me.

I picked up my bag. “That’s one of the reasons I’m out of here. If you’re boinking someone on the side, fine. We’re not married. I have no hold on you. Just be honest enough with me to tell me.”

“Janet, love, there is no other woman for me but you.”

“Very romantic. I’m tired of sitting on my butt waiting for you to get around to me. I’d like to move on with my life.”

“Not without me.”

“Then stay with me. Can you do that? Can you stay with me without running off at the drop of a hat?”

Mick scrubbed his hand through his hair, the evasive look he wore when he didn’t want to talk about something appearing. “No.”

“Then I’m going.”

I started for the door. His strong hand slammed across it, stopping me. “No, Janet. I can’t let you leave unprotected.”

I gave him a withering look. “Spare me.”

“You know damn well you can’t control your powers. Every time there’s a storm, you’re dangerous—to others and to yourself. Plus there are bad things out there, bad things that will squish your little Stormwalker body in a heartbeat. You can’t face them yet. You need me.”

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

I glared at him. “What are you going to do? Force me to stay?”

He could. He was bigger than me, stronger, more powerful. He’d proved that he could take any magic I threw at him and laugh it off. I should have been terrified of him, but I was too angry to be afraid. I’d fallen in love with him, but he treated me like a naïve schoolgirl, he didn’t trust me, and I’d had enough.

“Get out of my way,” I repeated.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’ve already been stupid. I
am
stupid. I’m stupid enough to ride around with a guy who has no last name, no birthday, no driver’s license, and who won’t tell me who he is, what he is, where he comes from, or where he goes. I don’t know what kind of sorcerer you are, or what kind of glam you’ve put on me, but I’m finished with it.”

“I haven’t glammed you. You stay with me because you want to.”

“And now I don’t want to.”

His arm remained across the door, solid as granite. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is. I want to go. Alone.”

“No matter what I might think? No matter what I might feel for you?”

“If you feel something for me, you’ll stop making me live like your woman, at your beck and call. Sorry, Mick. I don’t answer to anyone.”

“I can’t protect you if you run off.” He sounded frustrated.

“And I can’t protect
you
when you disappear,” I said. “There are things after me that would tear through you to get to me. Whenever you’re gone, how do I know that they haven’t found you? How do I know you’ll be back?”

“Do you mean your mother in the vortexes? From what you’ve told me, she doesn’t have a range much farther than about forty miles. We’re safe if we leave that part of the country alone.”

If that was true, then why the hell was he so worried about protecting me? “Fine. I’ve heard that Cape Cod is pretty. And I’ve always wanted to see New York City.”

“I’ll show you New York, if that’s what you want. I’ll rent a penthouse, and we’ll do it right.”

“I don’t want to do it on your money. I have my own money.”

“Will you stop worrying about that? I have lots of money. I like taking care of you.”

“I’m not your call girl.”

“I know that, damn it. I take care of you because I love you.”

Gods, he broke my heart. I dropped the bag, tears filling my eyes. The birthday setup had confirmed for me that he had all the power in this relationship, but I was sensitive enough to know that he didn’t see it that way.

“You did all this for me, tonight,” I said, “because you thought it would make me happy.”

“Yes, why else would I?”

He’d pictured me gushing with joy, pouring him champagne, pulling him to the bathroom so we could make love in the tub. He’d done this to please me.

“Mick.” I put my hands to my face, wiping away tears, then I went to him and put my arms around him. “Thank you. Pink icing is my favorite.”

Mick laughed then, a baritone rumble, and he scooped me to him. His kiss opened my mouth, his tongue hot against mine, and he completed my heartbreak.

I stayed with him three more days. We argued every day from the moment we woke until the moment we slept, until Mick finally put me on my bike, gave me the light spells, and kissed me good-bye with tears running down his face. I turned my back on him, wiping away my own tears, and headed north to New England. I hadn’t seen him from that day to the moment he broke into Nash’s office and carried me out.

Both of them looked up in surprise. “Fine,” Fremont said. Maya didn’t bother to answer.

Another shriek pierced the hotel, and I slapped my hands over my ears. “Can’t you hear that?”

Maya looked at me as though I’d lost my mind. Fremont pushed back his hat, rubbed his head. “I hear a buzzing from somewhere, but it’s not very loud. In the pipes maybe?”

This wasn’t squeaky pipes, these were screams of agony. Maya went back to her wires. “Maybe it’s the ghost of Sherry Beaumont.”

Fremont went white. “Don’t say that.”

“You’ll believe anything,” Maya said. “Maybe it’s one of your skinwalkers.”

“It’s not a skinwalker,” I said. They didn’t come out during daylight, and they just killed you; they didn’t bother scaring you first.

“Stay here,” I told them. Fremont and Maya exchanged glances before Maya rolled her eyes and turned back to her work.

I raced back into the lobby and upstairs. The power saws and drills and nail guns should have drowned out the noise, but I heard it loud and clear. The screams beat inside my skull, like someone going insane and taking me with them.

The noise didn’t come from any of the guest rooms. I ran past them, slammed open the door to the attic, and charged up the stairs, panting when I reached the top. I entered the largest room, the one with the desk and the mirror. No one was there. Nothing smelled of death, or life either, for that matter. The air felt no different than it had last night when I’d come through here on my way to the roof.

The screams escalated, raking like nails on glass. I pressed my hands to my head. “Stop!” I shouted.

The screams ended as though someone had thrown a switch. All was silent, except for the coo of the doves that nested under the eaves.

“Well, aren’t you cranky,” a voice said from the vicinity of my knees. It was a low, husky male voice that held the lilt of a drag queen. “Like maybe you didn’t get enough sleep last night.” The voice laughed. “Oh, wait, you didn’t. You were screwing that incredible hunk and releasing all that beautiful sex magic. It was . . . so
stimulating
.”

“Who are you?” I asked the air.

“Darling, don’t you know? And you call yourself a witch.”

I had a good idea now what was going on, but these particular magical beings were tricky and had to be handled with care.

“I don’t call myself a witch,” I said. “What do you call yourself?”

“I don’t call myself anything. You can call me what you want to, darling.”

I crouched in front of the mirror and looked into it. The glass reflected my shocked face and wide dark eyes. My hair was coming out of the ponytail I’d tucked it into, and my cropped top was dusty from the construction downstairs. The mirror reflected nothing but me and the room behind me. No face, no mists, nothing.

“You don’t look so good, girlfriend,” the voice observed. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Who’s the fairest one of all? In this room, that would be
me
, sweet chick.”

I closed my eyes. Perfect. This was all I needed.

“Gods help me,” I said. “You’re a magic mirror.”