.5 To Have and To Code (22 page)

The girls jammed their eyes shut again.

Nell didn’t move.  But the lump in his hand blazed with quick heat—and turned the color of the truck he’d slept with for most of his childhood.

He closed his eyes for a second, holding tangible magic in his fingers.  And then picked up Carlie and tucked her onto his lap.  “So, show me how to make one of those space camels.”

The chuckle that slid into his head, smooth as silk, felt like he’d just won the World Series.

-o0o-

Orange streaks of light painted the evening sky, the last brushstrokes of a sun headed to embers for the night.  Rays of blazing light punctuated the riot of colors—the sun wasn’t going down quietly this evening.

Neither was she.

Nell breathed in the high-desert air, pulled her mind to a sharp focus, and called the power that was hers to command.

“I call on fire, sister to me

I call on air, dance we three.

Move with fierceness, grace, and power

Give my fingers work this hour

Grant a need to feel and see

As I will, so mote it be.”

Power snapped in her fingers, spells forming even as the lines snapped into place.  She was woman and witch, and this was her birthright.  The air, she focused tightly, shaping invisible pathways in the cooling dusk.  Fire she split into tiny, questing fingers—and then let them go.

With control.  The exacting, precise control of a spellcaster nearing the peak of her power.

Tendrils of fire shot up the lines of air, a twisting, spiraling dance of light greeting—defying—the coming night.

Feet anchored on a large rock, she wrapped the sinuous magic around her, a fiery blanket of lithe, complex power. 

It comforted the woman.  And steadied the witch.

She let it burn until the sun’s last rays quieted in the sky.  And then, carefully, Nell throttled down the spell that would have toppled most witches, grounding the lines of magic and letting them drain.  The last tendrils of light tucked themselves into the palm of her hand.  Wrapping her fingers gently around the dancing magic, she blew them out. 

She sank down on the rock, sensing the power echoes still washing its solid, timeless shape.  And felt cool comfort slide into her heart.

She hadn’t called to peace—but it had come anyhow.

Hugging her knees, she watched the first stars blinking into existence in the sky and contemplated the man who had driven her to the desert.

She let the images swim in her head.  Pink glitter eyebrows.  Two little girls with bright smiles and love in their eyes.  Breath that had trembled at the kind of magic used to entertain small children—and then given way to warrior eyes.  A man who treasured a beat-up old fire truck and still slept with it beside his bed.

All this, she had seen.  And none of it held a candle to the solid, steady, questing mind that had wrapped around hers.  Pink play dough had freaked him out—mindtouch had fascinated him.

Nell sank her chin onto her knees, remembering.  Lost in the strong, open feel of his mind and the way it had enveloped hers.

He’d seen so much.  And captivated by the moment, she’d let him look.

She held out a palm and let a spark of fire dance on her hand.  Meditative fire magic in the high desert hadn’t changed the truth in her heart.

Daniel Sullivan was a man she could fall for.  Hard.

Whether
he
could accept
her
was a different question entirely.  But today he’d made an impressive start.

-o0o-

---------------------------------------------

To: 
[email protected]

From: 
[email protected]

Subject:  Getting even

---------------------------------------------

I saved you from abduction by glitter glue.  Which might not cover this favor, but I figured I’d give it a try.  My best friend is getting married tomorrow.  10 a.m., Church of the Trinity.  Somebody needs to eat the food. 

A smart man would stay away.

Nell

Chapter 15

Daniel watched as the newly married couple walked out the doors of the church in a cloud of delicately floating flower petals and wondered if he could strangle the maid of honor yet.

She’d invited him to a wedding—sort of—and neglected to mention that her entire family would be in attendance.  Or that the mother of the bride was crazy and had him confused with some long-lost cousin with a drinking problem.

Or that she’d be standing at the front of the church, dressed in some torturous shade of peach, watching her best friend’s vows with a smile of joy and terrible sadness in her eyes. 

One look at the groom’s family and he would have known why, even if she’d never mentioned Sammy.  Nobody living in Berkeley came to a wedding in cowboy boots.

Maybe there was a nearby horse he could borrow for a getaway.

If he tried, Nell would probably send a posse of her brothers to hunt him down.  There had been a whole lot of Sullivans intent on making his acquaintance in the few short minutes before the wedding had gotten underway.

The newlyweds made their way to the horse-drawn carriage that would carry them to the country club in style.  Daniel grinned as the horse on the left gave Nell’s dress the evil eye.  Even the horse had better taste than whoever had picked that dress.

I heard that.
 

He grinned as her voice slid into his mind, butter smooth and more than a little cranky. 
Buck up—I’m pretty sure no one except the horse is looking at you.

Her response was short, pithy, and very visual.  He shuddered and hoped such an idea was impossible—neither he nor the dress would enjoy it.

He watched as Nell held the train of the bride’s dress, suddenly feeling the moment through her eyes.  Love for Sammy, a quick shot of gratitude aimed at the groom, and a city kid’s suspicion of horses, poop, and modes of transport that lacked engines.

And under it all, the aching sadness he’d seen in her eyes.

Dammit.
 The mental channel jolted and came back minus the ache. 
It’s Sammy’s wedding.  I have to wait to be sad until after.

He opened his mouth to protest, and then realized it would be both futile and wrong.  And he could be the jerk of the century—or he could help. 
Can’t you magic that dress to a different color?  Puke green?  A lovely shade of prison orange, maybe?

She snorted. 
I could.  Are you ready to catch the mother of the bride when she faints in horror?

I thought you were some kind of fancy spellcaster.  Make her believe she’s still seeing peach.
 Daniel snickered at her eye roll—and then laughed at himself.  Two days ago, he’d been quaking in his boots.  Now he was offering up magic tricks to poke Nell out of her morose mood. 

I can still make you quake in your boots. 
She sounded more amused than threatening. 
And I need my fingers to spellcast, so unless you want to come give me a hand with this abomination of a wedding train, I’ll just have to suffer in peachy silence.

He eyed the waterfall of material hanging off Sammy’s dress and confirmed it was way above his pay grade. 
How many spells are you using to keep that thing under control?

I’m not using any.
  Nell’s mindvoice sounded smug.  She waved a mental hand in the direction of her brothers. 
They are.

Daniel looked over at the trio of identical faces, all grinning his way with something akin to glee.  And remembered, far too late, that Nell Sullivan wasn’t the only mind witch at the wedding.

Oh, hell.

-o0o-

Stupid man.

Nell shook her head and avoided making eye contact with the horse. 
The last time I let my brothers listen to my conversations was fifteen years ago.
 And even then, she’d given them serious grief for eavesdropping.

Daniel seemed skeptical. 
Then why are they grinning at me like that?

Because they’re nineteen.
 And likely plotting nefarious deeds, but she had no intention of telling Daniel that until he was safely trapped in the reception hall.  Inviting him had been a moment of serious weakness, but now that he was here, she wanted to keep him that way.  You never knew when a guy with a good pitching arm might be useful.

The guy with the pitching arm had a pretty good mental scowl for a beginner. 
Mind filling me in on what kind of witchy powers they have?

Nell kept stuffing wedding-dress entrails in the carriage after Sammy. 
Why?

So I know when to run.

She snickered, loudly enough that Sammy glanced back, curious.  Nell pasted a smile on her face and waited for the bride to get back to the task of sitting down without suffocating her new husband. 
They’re supposed to be on their best behavior today.  No unsupervised acts of magic.
 

Uh, huh.

For a guy stuck at a virtual stranger’s wedding with a bunch of witches, he was sounding pretty resilient.  She wasn’t at all sure how she felt about that.  Grabbing the end of the train with both hands, she dumped it in Sammy’s lap, waved in moral support, and moved as far back from the horse as possible.

The carriage pulled away from the curb, and suddenly, for the first time since her eyes had opened at dawn, Nell had nothing to do.

And the ocean of sadness in her heart finally found away around the dike she’d built.  It sang in her veins as she watched Sammy go, the disconsolate aria of a woman feeling a piece of her heart rip away. 

She felt her mother’s mindtouch, offering solace.  Her brothers, stepping forward as one unit.

But it was Daniel who reached her first.

The hands that settled on her shoulders didn’t ask.  They simply held, pulling her into a quiet, steady embrace that gave her the time she needed to call on the ocean waters to recede.  To tuck it away for a few more hours and grant Sammy the last gift that was hers to give.

It was like trying to stuff Sammy’s dress into a soda can. 

Nell leaned into the solid shoulder under her cheek and tried harder.  And barely heard his words through the river of tears fighting for freedom.

He tried again, mind to mind this time. 
Give it to me.

The waters halted, as confused as she was. 
What?

You want to leave Sammy with happiness, right?
 His mental voice soothed her frayed ends. 
So hand the rest to me for a while.  I’ll go cry in the corner if I have to.  You go dance with the bride.

She pushed her face a little deeper into his shoulder.  Mind magic didn’t work that way, and neither did her emotions.  But the offer—just the words—flattened her.  And helped her find the plugs for the dike.

For one last moment, she leaned on his strength, body and mind.  And then pushed away, peach-clad woman back on her wedding-day mission. 
Thanks.

He smiled and swiped a thumb across her cheek. 
No problem.  Save me a dance.

If she survived that long, she just might.

-o0o-

Retha Sullivan watched Realm’s newest employee and marveled.  His eyes had taken in much at this wedding—but mostly they’d taken in Nell and the way she moved through the world of those she loved most. 

He’d seen her heart and the Sammy-sized hole it wore.

He’d teased her about the peach monstrosity and carefully not teased her about anything that mattered.

He’d pushed away her sadness—and caught it when it had come back.

And he’d done it all down the kind of mind connection that happened only when two people were very open, very accepting, and very brave.

He saw Nell as the woman she was.  And he accepted her as a witch.

It was enough to send a mother’s heart seriously fluttering.  And it made her wonder if a twenty-seven-year-old prophecy hadn’t chosen rather well.

Daniel Walker had a rare and precious strength.  He could shift the ground he stood on and see the world through different eyes.  A flexibility of mind and spirit that she imagined made him a deadly hacker, an inventive gamer—and perhaps the man who could stand with her daughter.

Her gorgeous girl had always had the bravery of ten, never lacked the courage to look—but Nell Sullivan saw the world one way.  A fighter who stood on a singular path.

Together, they could be magnificent.

Or they could implode—you didn’t raise seven children without learning all the ways in which life could go wrong.  But the deep brown eyes that watched her daughter seemed like they knew how to throw a pitch at life and win.

It was time to tell Nell of The Prophecy.

Right after they finished getting Sammy off to Texas.

-o0o-

Daniel slid another step backward.  Between the man-eating potted plant and the amplitude of Nell’s math-geek friend TJ, he was almost out of sight.