Witch Fire (23 page)

That couldn't bode well.

Footsteps sounded on the cleared walkway behind her.
Two men.

Adrenaline surging through her, Annie pulled a strand of magick as she turned to confront the two Duskoff warlocks behind her. One was earth, the other fire.

She gave them no time to react. She drenched them in water and cooled it so fast neither of them could retaliate. They both froze in place.

Then she whirled around, expecting more to be behind her. It was a common tactic. The first were just cannon fodder. When the Duskoff wanted to take a powerful witch, they overwhelmed her, confused her.

Two more came from around the corner of the garage, a water witch and an earth witch, both pulling magick so fast she feared she couldn't stop them. With honed reflexes, she pulled strands and dowsed them, freezing them solid.

Breathing hard, she turned a circle, waiting for the rest. No more warlocks met her view…but no way had she finished this battle.

A man in a long black trench coat stepped from the alley.

Like some gunfighter on the streets of Deadwood, Annie pulled her magick and directed it at the man, but he moved his hand, and her water flared in a sudden flash of fire and evaporated. She tried again and again as the man neared her.

He was a master of his element. She'd never felt a more powerful fire witch in her life. Annie cast about in her mind for alternatives, ways to defeat this one. Some water witches could manipulate the water in a person's very body, but she didn't possess that ability. Out of options, Annie backed away from him, into one of the men she'd frozen.

As he grew near, she could see his face more clearly. He was ruggedly handsome, with thick, curly blond hair and gray eyes.
Stefan.
The whole witch community knew who he was. Stefan was almost as well-known as his bastard father.

He threw his arms wide as if greeting an old friend and smiled. “Annie, so good to meet you.” Flames sparked in both palms.

He embraced her.

Annie screamed.

J
ACK AWOKE TO FIND HIS BED EMPTY.
S
ENSING
Mira still in the room, he turned over, glancing around for her. She stood in her nightgown at the window looking out at the morning-draped front lawn.

“Mira? What are you doing? Come back to bed.”

She turned. The look on her face chilled him. She'd gone pale and her expression seemed perfectly stark. Her eyes seemed to hold nothing.

He got out of bed and went to her. Her arms were cold to his touch. “Baby, what's wrong?”

She stared for a long moment before finally blinking. “Nightmare.”

Jack pulled her against him, but she felt like a board. He rubbed her arms, trying to get her warmed up. “Must have been a bad one,” he murmured with his cheek pressed against her hair. “It's still early. Come back to bed.” He wanted to hold her, chase that haunted look out of her eyes.

She pulled away from him, blinking twice rapidly. A smile flickered over her mouth. “Sorry. It really freaked me out.”

His heart started beating again. “Sometimes training magick can produce nightmares. It's not uncommon.”

“Really?”

“When the magick is first disturbed, the mind can sometimes be disturbed too. Nightmares are a problem for adolescent witches because of that. Since you're only now being trained, seems likely you'd have them.”

She shuddered. “It was very vivid, like I was there in reality.”

“Witches dream vividly. They're prone to spontaneous lucid dreams too. I don't think I have to tell you how much being lucid in a nightmare can suck.”

“I think I just found out.”

“Come on.” He led her back to bed. Once they were both under the heavy blankets, he pulled her against him and spooned her, nestling his hand between her breasts to cover the seat of her magick. “You can tell me about it, if you think it would help.”

“No,” she answered quickly. “I just want to forget it.” She pulled his hand to her mouth and gave the back of it a kiss. “But thanks.”

“Okay.” He glanced at the clock. Tucked against his body, she was finally starting to warm up. It was 8
A.M.
They had another half hour before they had to get up and begin training for the day.

They'd spend it just like this.

M
IRA HELD OUT HER HAND AND HELPED
J
ACK TO
his feet. Grimacing, Jack stood and stretched his back and neck. She was kicking his ass today, and she felt guilty about it.

He'd taken her training over from Serena, figuring it was time to start concentrating more on defensive magick, which was his specialty. They'd gone back to the storage room, where he'd instructed mats be placed on the floor. She was making progress, although it was hard for her to concentrate with the remnants of the dream clinging to her. Still, she managed to best Jack every time he came at her.

Jack had told her it was just a nightmare, and she desperately wanted to believe him. The alternative was too gruesome to consider.

“I'm going to add in my fire now.” Jack had been serious all day about her training, driving her to try new things, tweak her magick this way and that way. He was intent that she learn new defensive techniques. She was grateful for his focus because she shared it. Something was building. She could feel it. And it was something bad.

“How does air have any defense against fire, Jack? Air only makes a fire burn hotter and brighter.”

“Think for a moment. What it is that fire needs to burn in the first place?”

It hit her instantly. “Oh.”

Jack nodded. “Defensive magick is a lot like a game of paper-rock-scissors, although that's a deceptively simple description. A lot of it depends on an individual witch's abilities, how creative and quick they are, and their level of power.”

He extended his hand and a fireball formed. It grew larger rapidly, forcing Mira to draw a strand of magick and use it to encase it in a bubble and draw all the air out. It took a lot of concentration, but she finally got the fireball to extinguish.

“Good. Very good, Mira.”

She smiled, proud of herself.

“Now let's try it when I'm not standing still and waiting for you.”

Her smile faded.

Again and again they practiced. Jack made the fire bigger, smaller, threw it across the room, and tossed it directly at her. Finally, Mira could sense and extinguish fire with her eyes closed. By the time she'd mastered the ability she felt exhausted and had a splitting headache, but the hard magickal workout had blessedly wiped away the last vestiges of the nightmare from her mind.

Jack watched her across the room with unmistakable heat in his eyes as she leaned over and braced her hands on her knees, breathing heavy from chasing fire around the room. He stalked toward her and bustled her back against the wall behind her. Jack pinned her there with his hands on either side of her head and stared intently at her.

She blinked. “Er. Is there something you want to say to me, Jack?”

“Just that I think you're incredible, beautiful, smart, and sexy.”

She felt herself flush under the praise. “Got anymore adjectives you want to throw in there?”

“I've watched you meet every challenge that's been thrown at you over these past few weeks. You've never once whimpered, never once whined. In that time period you've gathered as much magickal knowledge as it takes some witches years to learn.”

“Um, thank you.” She never knew what to do with praise. “I'm kind of motivated, you know?”

His voice lowered seductively. “Did I mention the sexy part? The beautiful part?” He leaned toward her and gently brushed his lips across hers. The slight touch made her body hum with awareness of him. He rested his forehead against hers. “Damn, Mira. I think I—” He bit off the end of his sentence. “I care about you a lot. And there's no way I'm letting you use any of this defensive magick you've learned. Crane and his minions will get near you over my dead body.”

She smiled at the vehement protectiveness in his voice. “Well, that's the last thing I want, Jack, because I care about you, too.”

Something dark moved in his eyes. “Last task for the day. Throw me back. I'm the enemy. Repel me.”

She shook her head. “No, I'm finished for the day. You probably already have ten bruises—”

“Do it.”

“No.”

“Do it.”

“No!”

His eyes turned a terrible shade of red and flame seemed to flicker in their depths. “
Do it, Mira
,” he growled low.

She did it.

Jack went careening backward and landed on his ass about ten feet away. He didn't move.

Stupid man! Mira ran to him and knelt by his side. His eyes were closed. “Jack? Are you all right?”

He opened his eyes and had her beneath him so fast she couldn't even yelp in surprise. “Great…now,” he murmured right before his mouth came down on hers.

His lips worked over hers, and his knee insinuated itself between her thighs. Mira's aches and pains from the day, her headache, all faded under his touch. She let her hands play over his broad shoulders, let her fingers tangle in the silky hair at his nape as he kissed her.

She loved him.

Mira could never tell him that, but she did. There was nothing she could do about it. The feelings had hit her like a Mack truck.

Jack slid his hand under her shirt and rubbed his thumb back and forth against her waist, making her shiver. She pushed up, forcing him over onto his back so she could straddle him. Her mouth worked over his as she yanked the hem of his shirt up, wanting to kiss over his chest.

He cupped her face in his hands before she could lower her mouth to him. “Mira…”

Just then someone opened the door. Thomas stuck his head in. He surveyed the scene for a moment before speaking. “Glad to see the training is going well.”

Mira stood and dusted herself off while Jack got to his feet.

“Mira, I need to talk to you,” said Thomas. He gave a pointed look at Jack. “Alone.”

“Okay.” She glanced at Jack before heading out the door with Thomas.

They walked to his office, not saying a word. He wore a grim expression that made all the dread Mira had felt from her nightmare come rushing back to hit her right in the solar plexus. “Thomas, I—”

“Not until we get to my office.”

Finally, they reached their destination, and he closed the door behind them. She sank into one of the leather chairs. He sat on the edge of his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

Mira braced herself. She focused her gaze on one of the legs of the desk. “I had a nightmare last night. I dreamt that a powerful warlock had Annie.” She paused, drew a steadying breath and raised her gaze to Thomas's face. “Just tell me, Thomas.”

Thomas only looked up. Everything was on his face.

A cold blast of air rushed through the room, a result of Mira's sudden uncontrolled burst of emotion. The despair faded until Mira felt made of wood. “Tell me more.”

“We received a messenger about fifteen minutes ago sent by Stefan, William Crane's adopted son. Do you know who Stefan is?”

She nodded.

“He is a very powerful fire witch. Apparently, he killed the two guards we sent and took Annie from her home this morning while she was on her way to work.”

Mira drew a shuddering breath. She should have a million questions, but her mind had gone perfectly blank.

“Annie is bait.” He paused. “For you.”

She forced herself to think through the numb haze she'd stumbled into. “You said the Duskoff contacted you?”

“They sent photos.”

Mira swallowed hard, feeling nauseous. Photos had to be bad.

Thomas continued in a matter-of-fact tone, but Mira could hear the tremble of emotion beneath it. “She's been burned by Stefan. She needs medical treatment. Plus, they say they'll kill her if you don't hand yourself over to them within twenty-four hours.”

Mira let all that information sink in. Her life for her godmother's life.

“You will not do this,” he commanded.

Her numbness melted into searing rage. She stood, and another blast of air rushed through the room, scattering the papers on Thomas's desk. His long black hair blew around his head, but his grim expression didn't change.

“Like hell you'll tell me what to do, Thomas. Annie is the only mother I've ever known. I will
not
leave her to die in Crane's clutches in order to save myself. I will not allow Crane to take any more of my parents away.”

“You need to calm down. I have no intention of letting either you or Annie die. Please, sit.”

She remained standing, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I know you're spoiling for a fight, and you're going to get what you want after a fashion, but we're going to be smart about this. We've got the resources to meet this challenge if we adequately anticipate their moves.”

Thomas could obviously think much clearer about this than she could. All she wanted was to go, and go now. Do anything in order to get Annie back safely.

“You're not ready to fight warlocks, Mira, I'm sorry.”

“I
am
ready, Thomas. I fought six of them in Jack's apartment.”

“And nearly killed yourself.”

“I've been training. I've come a long way since then. I have more control now.”

“You're not ready. Trust me.”

She stood fuming for a long moment before yelling, “I
will
be a part of anything the Coven does, Thomas!”

He didn't say anything.

A breeze born from her impatience and anger buffeted their hair. “Thomas, I mean it. You treat me like I'm made of glass. Just like Jack. I'm stronger than you both think I am, and there's no way I won't make Crane pay for everything he's done to me. I want your word now that I will be a part of anything the Coven organizes. It's my choice. It's my life. Annie is my godmother.”

Thomas stared at her for a long moment. “You are definitely a child of both Hoskins and Monahan houses. You have my promise.”

“And I don't want Jack to know anything about this,” she added. “Not a word.”

Shock and anger spilled across Thomas's face for a moment, but he managed it quickly, letting that familiar blank mask settle over his features. “Why? He can help.”

“He's so damned protective. He'll stop me, or he'll get in my way. It's just easier if he doesn't know it's happening.”

“It's a mistake.”

She shook her head. “Promise me as my cousin, Thomas. As family. You said you'd do anything for me.
Swear it
.”