Something About Witches (18 page)

“I’ll trust you to exercise restraint,” he said dryly. “If not, I’ll catch the bullet in my teeth.”

“Yeah, I’m seeing that happening.” Actually, she wouldn’t put it past him. He backed up several paces. When she lifted the Sig, she found she couldn’t do it, couldn’t point it right at him. He closed the distance between them as she aimed it off to the left. Gripping her wrist, he moved her resisting arm so the barrel was squarely aimed at his chest.

“Derek—”

“Bang,” he said mildly. She jumped, regardless of the fact she’d kept her trigger finger on the barrel. Looking down, she saw a tiny spray of wildflowers tumble from the muzzle and land on the ground between them, just as the magazine thudded right next to them. She hadn’t pressed the release. Leaning down as she lowered the weapon, he picked up the tiny bouquet. It was growing out of the bullet that had been in the chamber. Plucking one of the flowers free, he put it in her hair, lingering over the shell of her ear.

“So very sixties,” she commented. His wry smile tugged at her battered heart. Reaching up, she painted a faint peace sign on his forehead with the gun soot. Catching her wrist again, he pressed a kiss on the palm, holding it there.

“Want to learn how to fire one, just in case?” she asked desperately.

“Will you stand behind me and press your breasts into my back, rub against my ass while you show me the proper stance?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll pass.”

“I wouldn’t be able to see around your massive body, you big bear.”

He grinned at her then. Surprisingly, the gesture eased the tightness in her stomach, so much it was a palpable relief. Taking out the handkerchief again, he wet it with the extra water bottle she had, took a seat on the stump once more. Pulling her back between his knees, he cleaned her fingers. Things got quiet again as she looked down at him, but it was an easier quiet this time. He’d put his hat back on, but she took it off, letting it drop to the side so she could touch his hair. She closed her eyes at the feel of the strands moving between her fingers. So many simple things, simple pleasures that were unappreciated until the right and ability to do them were long gone.

He was done with cleaning her fingers, the handkerchief tucked away, but he was still caressing her knuckles, keeping her a willing captive in his grasp as he massaged the palm with broad, callused fingers.

“Did you ever remember wanting to be anything else?” she asked softly. “Other than a sorcerer?”

“I was born to be what I am, Ruby. I forgot the way my mother’s breath felt on my face long before I forgot the way it felt to be smacked by my teacher when I wasn’t paying attention.” When he lifted his blue gaze to her, she glimpsed those things about him that she knew so little about. Before
their relationship ended, he’d started letting her in, letting her get to know that side of him, so maybe she wasn’t the only one who’d been working through trust issues.

“You got smacked by your teacher?”

“Teachers. I had a variety of them through the ages. And boy howdy, did I. The worst thrashing I ever got was during my awkward years, when I was all uncoordinated arms and legs.” He grimaced. “I stepped on Taliesin’s harp and broke it.”

“You did not.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a Boy Scout.”

“Just an expression.”

“So ‘Scout’s honor’ means less than nothing when you say it.”

His eyes twinkled, but he kept his gaze on his task. She was curious now, though. “So were you instructed by Merlin, too?”

He grunted. “We were on different paths while he was alive. I had the good fortune to study with some great teachers, though, through every century. Some of the best ones were quiet monks, unremarked by history.” He blew on her fingertips, making them warmer, then pulled her in closer to tuck both of her hands under his armpits, letting her take advantage of his warmth. “Before Gutenberg came along, monks copied all the great manuscripts for the libraries of the Church and the wealthy. And not all of those monks did it as a tedious exercise. Many really read what they were transcribing. The works of great Greek philosophers, Renaissance scientists, obscure texts by Samurai warriors, you name it. Monks were keepers of the word, and they studied them, to the point that even today wizards go to certain monasteries to seek counsel. One of my favorites, and most recent, was a Brother Thomas I met in the early eighteen hundreds. He eventually left his order to become servant to a vampire queen.”

“You made that up.”

“Did not. I actually did some work to protect her from the Fae world when she was a child, though when I met her again later I let her believe that was an ancestor of mine, my own little deception. I don’t think she bought it. Women are smart that way.” That mischievous light played with the somber cast of his eyes, so she wasn’t sure what was truth and what wasn’t. “Like that monk, you have a love of knowledge, the ability to question that which most people don’t. And you’ve used it to take your abilities much further.”

He tightened his grip, anticipating her. “No, now, don’t get all fuzzed up like a cat. Hear me out. The path you’re walking, the forces you’re messing with…. You may think you have to handle all that alone, and you probably have your reasons for believing that. But I’m here. If there’s something you need to talk over, you can talk to me. I can’t promise to be perfect about it, but I’ll do my best to listen as another magic user, not as your lover. Okay?”

She studied him. “You a miracle worker now?”

“I’ll give it my best shot.” Then he sighed, glancing at the sky. “Damn it. I need to go now. Just for a few hours. I’ll be back by morning, and then I’m here all this coming week, so you can use me for the more advanced demonstrations. All right?”

She tried to quell her disappointment, the resentment that he’d just arrived only to disappear again, like a candy held out and then jerked out of reach, a child’s taunt.
Psyche
. Why’d he come here first, anyway, knowing he had to take off again?

Then she thought of the urgency with which they’d come together. She’d been immersed in how much she’d wanted
him
. She hadn’t thought about his perspective, the fierce insistence of his kisses, the hard need of his body. She swallowed.

“Got a date?” She put an acid bite in her voice so she didn’t give away her reaction to the fanciful idea that he hadn’t wanted to wait another minute to see her.

“Nope. Just some loose ends on something up in Atlanta.” He curled a strand of her mussed hair around her ear. “Keep my side of the bed warm, girl.”

“Sorry; that’s where I keep my Sig. And my Taser.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure and move them over when I slip under the covers. Might be nice if you were wearing nothing.”

“And freeze to death until you get there? No, thanks.”

He gave her that grin. “Tell Theo to keep you warm.”

“I think that’s illegal in this state.” She paused, struggled with it, but forced it out. “Derek, what just happened…. it doesn’t change anything.”

“Think that all you want, baby.” He tipped her chin up, his hand briefly on her throat, a firm squeeze that got her attention, the suddenly far less casual look in his eyes sending a ripple of butterflies through her stomach. “Nothing’s going to keep me out of your bed again. I don’t care if you’re cuddling up to a damn bazooka when I get there.”

Then he was gone, striding off through the woods, setting his hat back on his head. He’d reclaimed the duster, and she already missed it, the smell of him enveloping her. He was right. Nothing was going to keep him out of her bed, especially not her. Not right now. She wouldn’t deprive herself, now that she’d had a taste again. But it really didn’t change anything. Her bed was one thing; her heart was another. The fact she’d be going to bed without him tonight, with him off to Atlanta, just underscored it. She was alone. Always alone.

As well as he knew her, she knew him pretty well, too. That was why she’d sent him away three years ago, and why she wouldn’t be confiding in him anytime soon.

She picked up the Sig. She could get in another hundred rounds before full dark. Before she couldn’t see to get back home.

H
E’D WALKED OFF, BUT AT A CERTAIN POINT
R
UBY
saw him fade into the gray dusk and disappear. Derek rarely used modern modes of transport. He took himself to different places using the fault lines as railways. He did know how to drive, and somewhere he had a pickup truck, one of those sleek Dodge Rams with an eighty-cylinder engine that could pull a mountain, but like most magic users, mechanical things weren’t always reliable around him.
It’s not just Harry Dresden who has that problem,
he’d mentioned with an ironic smile, the first time he’d burned up her toaster in the morning. When she questioned why, his answer had been straightforward, typically Derek. “You know when your computer does things, and you’re not really sure why? Natural forces are always interacting with man-made things. Sometimes Nature wins.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t like traveling those other ways. He’d told her when time wasn’t critical, or the journey itself was important, he drove or even hitchhiked. It gave him time to think, reflect, absorb. He’d admitted he missed travel by horse most of all.
It gave you someone to talk to about
things, an impartial audience, so to speak. Seeing those ears swiveled back toward you was comforting, somehow.
In times past, he’d also chosen an animal form, like a wolf or stag, to move in wooded areas unnoticed. However, in the crowded twenty-first century, with more chances to encounter problems with humans in those forms, he rarely chose animal shapes to travel.

She shook her head, finding her footing on the path, hefting the backpack. Old fossil. Gorgeous, stubborn male, determined to find his way back into her soul.

Oh, hell, Ruby. He never left it. That’s the whole problem.

She came to a halt, a prickling chill shooting up her spine. In the blink it took for the sound of leaves rustling around her feet to cease, the forest fell grave silent, a stillness as ominous as the moment before a tornado hit.
Shit.

Thrusting the backpack off her shoulders so it thudded to the ground, she bolted forward.
“Illumina,”
she snapped. A small spotlight generated from the energy of her own body cast light forward so she could see the path. She ran full out, lengthening her stride, pushing herself hard. Toward Linda’s house and the threat gathering there.

Her heart was back to rabbiting in her throat, but this time for a far more frightening reason. She’d imagined facing Asmodeus a hundred different ways, yet this would be her first time fighting anything from the Underworld toe-to-toe. Anything since that terrible night.

She cleared a fallen log, dodged an uneven drop in the trail. She hadn’t been prepared then, she reminded herself between gulps of air. She was now. Despite that, the weak, traitorous thought couldn’t help but cross her mind.
Goddamn it, Derek, why did you have to take off again? We need you.

She wouldn’t say,
I need you
. She wouldn’t.

As she burst into the clearing, she saw Linda already out of the house, hurrying toward the circle. Miriam and Christine, both of whom lived within a mile of Linda, were running to join her from where they’d left their cars at haphazard
angles when they screeched into the driveway. Ruby was proud as hell they’d picked up on it themselves, but damn it, she should have had the coven members staying on the property. All the work they’d been doing these past few days had probably stirred things up. Those tunneling rats had decided a preemptive strike was in order.

Ruby veered off toward the circle, such that she and the other three arrived within its boundaries at the same time. “Take a Quarter, call it quick, get the circle in place,” she ordered. “We need to reinforce the fault line before they can shake themselves completely loose of it. Deep breath— a quick one— then go.”

“What’s coming out of it?” Miriam asked.

“Something we don’t want to get out. You’ll see it soon enough. Follow my lead to the letter.
Air. Now
.”

Miriam scrambled for the Air Quarter. Linda took Earth. With a gesture to Christine, Ruby moved her to Water while she took the Fire counterpoint. Christine understood without argument. For this first real battle, it was best to have the two most experienced members in the circle at the north and south anchor points. The chants were done fast, in quick succession. All the drills had paid off— with her staying calm and brusque, just like she’d been in class, they automatically snapped into the groove of what they were supposed to do.

While they were calling Quarters, she concentrated, reinforced the circle’s perimeter with an extra boost. The heat was building beneath them, intensely enough she could feel it through the thin soles of her sneakers, and the ground gave the illusion of shifting. Miriam’s eyes were wide as saucers, Christine’s mouth tight and strained. Linda was focusing for all she was worth.

“Hold fast,” Ruby ordered. “Concentrate. Remember, just follow my lead.”