To Love A Witch (A Novel Nibbles title) (3 page)

Jake knew what could happen to witch kids with
uncontrolled magic and no one to stand up for them. Alvin was dead,
but someone at Sentinel was going to answer for this.

He would have gone to the mat just for Romy and
the three years she lost, but she had eighty friends. And he’d bet
not all of them had survived as well as his redhead.

He sat back down at the computer. By the time he
walked into Sentinel headquarters, he was going to know what had
happened to every last one of them.

Romy pulled her station wagon up in front of the
Center and grabbed her bag off the seat. She was perilously close
to being late, and with all the grief she gave her kids about being
on time, that wasn’t an option.

Rehearsal had run overtime, thanks to her
director’s delusions of grandeur. She loved doing community
theater, but the few people in it for the dubious glory could be
really annoying. Mental note—don’t be one of those directors. Not
that her kids would let her get away with that kind of crap.

She ran down the detention-wing hall and into
the drama room. The last thing she expected to see was the guy
who’d tried to snatch her yesterday slouched in a chair next to
Skate.

She skidded to a halt and glared. “What are you
doing here?”

He reached out a hand. “Hey, I’m Jake. I’m
hoping to start a drama program for teens up in Albuquerque, and I
heard you were the best. I came to check things out.”

Liar. “Who let you in?” Romy could see Skate’s
posture shifting to alert. She tried to ratchet down her body
language; no point getting Skate in trouble.

Jake nodded toward Darlene, in her usual post by
the door. Darlene waved and wiggled her eyebrows at Romy.

He’d smooth-talked Darlene? Romy was pretty sure
no one had accomplished that in the last decade.

“The dude says he can act, Romy,” said Skate.
“Mostly action stuff. Maybe he can help us out with the rumble
scene.”

Romy tried not to laugh. Fine. If the kids
wanted to put Jake through their own special brand of hazing, she
wasn’t going to get in their way. She looked at Jake. “You know the
basic plot for West Side Story? This is the big gang fight in Act
One.”

“Manny’s out sick,” said Skate. “He can be
Riff.”

“Hey,” Jake said. “Doesn’t he die in Act One?
Who kills him?”

Skate grinned. It wasn’t pretty. “Me.”

The gang cast members assembled. Since all eyes
were on Jake, clearly word had gotten around. Romy issued her
standard warning with a little more emphasis than usual. “No blood,
guys. Remember, this is acting.”

At a signal from Skate, the action started, and
she settled back to watch. Riff usually took a pretty decent
pounding in this scene. Darlene grinned from the doorway.

Jake made halfhearted attempts to dodge a few
blows until a pretty solid one landed. Then Romy saw his face
change. This was clearly a guy who had been in a few street fights.
She and Darlene both took several steps closer in case they needed
to step in; no one pounded on their kids. Jake saw their moves and
rolled his eyes.

In the next three minutes, Romy learned all she
needed to know about the kind of man Jake was. He had fast hands,
even faster feet, and precise control. He fought as dirty as any
kid in her group, but with the kind of restrained violence that
earned respect without doing any real harm.

Finally, Skate started to advance on Jake. It
was time for Riff to die. Instead, Skate stopped and put out his
hand. “You fight good. I can kill Riff when Manny gets back.”

Jake nodded once, tough guy to tough guy.
Fascinating, thought Romy. Skate didn’t like very many people; he
respected even fewer. She stepped forward. “All right, I think
we’ve rumbled enough for today. Now let’s run through impromptu job
interviews.”

Her guest looked totally confused. “What part of
West Side Story is that?”

Romy grinned. “It’s the part that earns these
kids the right to participate in West Side Story.”

“We have to pretend to act like regular
schmucks,” Skate said.

Well, Romy thought, that was better than several
of the words he would have used last year. She had a strict
no-swearing policy for drama rehearsals. If her kids were ever
going to pass for anything other than delinquents, they needed to
expand their vocabularies.

“I don’t get it,” Jake said.

Skate smirked. “Romy says it’s good acting
practice. If I can behave like some prissy private-school kid for a
job interview, then I must be a pretty good actor.”

Jake rubbed his ribs. “You do a great gang
thug.”

“That’s not acting.” Skate earned appreciative
snickers from his audience.

Jake considered a moment, and then reached out a
hand to Skate. “Hello, I’m Mr. Dickhead, head of hiring for
Standard Insurance. And you are?” Romy was impressed; he’d gone
from likeable guy with bad-boy edges to condescending senior
executive in three seconds flat.

Skate’s mouth hung open, so Romy stepped in to
coach. “He looks pretty obnoxious—you up to this?”

Mission accomplished; Skate’s mouth snapped shut
and he reached out to shake Jake’s hand. “I’m Michael Sykes, and
it’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Dickhead.” No sign of a smirk
anywhere. That was serious progress.

Jake gestured toward a table and two chairs
hastily set up by a couple of the kids. “Have a seat, Mr. Sykes.
Tell me about yourself.”

Romy cheered silently as Jake ran Skate through
the interview gauntlet. The questions were tough, random, and
occasionally stupid, just like your standard job interview. And
without the visual, you never would have pegged Skate as a kid from
the hood.

Then Jake’s face shifted. “One last question. It
sounds like you might be a reasonable fit for Standard Insurance,
Mr. Sykes. I’m concerned, however, about your… appearance.” He
gestured in the general direction of Skate’s tattoos.

Only Darlene’s hand on her shoulder kept Romy in
her seat. Skate was silent for a couple of seconds. Then he spoke
with calm conviction. “Tattoos don’t make the man, Mr. Dickhead.
What’s inside does.”

“Yeah, it certainly does.” Bad-boy Jake was
back. “Hell of an act there, Skate. Next time I’ll wear a skirt and
be the sexy-flirt hiring manager. Trust me, those are harder to
deal with.”

The rest of the room busted up laughing at the
idea of Jake in a skirt. Skate raised an eyebrow. “You coming
back?”

“Yeah. For a while. Gotta help you guys work on
that rumble scene.”

The buzzer sounded, ending free time. Kids filed
out, heading off to dinner, and Romy walked over to Jake. She had
no idea what to do with him. “I don’t know why you’re here, but you
earned enough points that I’m not going to have Darlene throw you
out. We need to talk.”

Jake nodded. “You hungry?”

She contemplated him a moment. “Yeah. Let me
wrap up here, and I’ll meet you out front.”

Jake left, and Darlene walked over. “What’s that
all about?”

Romy shook her head. “I have no idea. Pretty
sure he wants something, but I have no idea what.”

Darlene snorted. “Then you’re a lot dumber than
I think you are, girlfriend. Skate liked him, and so do I.”

And those were two tough gatekeepers, but
neither of them knew she could make sparks fly out of her
fingers.

Jake wanted her; Darlene had that much right.
She needed to find out why. She wasn’t a fourteen-year-old witch in
need of rescuing any more.

Jake leaned against his bike and waited for Romy
to come out.

That had been quite the education. The bar fight
loosely disguised as a scene in a play hadn’t been a big deal, but
watching Skate handle a tough interview with brains and self
control… How the heck had Romy pulled that out of a kid from the
hood?

He watched her walk out of the building. She
still looked at him with suspicion; he was going to have to work on
that.

“When does Skate get out?” That was obviously
the last question she’d been expecting.

“In sixteen weeks, three days—why?”

“Think he’d be willing to relocate to San
Francisco?”

“I imagine he’d be thrilled to go anywhere that
wasn’t here, but why?”

Jake took out his cell phone and dialed a
friend. “Hey Mikey, it’s Jake. Quick question—you got a spot for a
new intern in about four months? Good artist, great fighter.”

Romy’s face was caught somewhere between scowl
and disbelief.

After listening a moment longer, he hung up.
Mikey hated talking on the phone. “There’s a job for him in San
Francisco if he wants it. Mikey’s a good guy. He’ll work him hard
enough there won’t be any time left to find trouble.”

“Doing what, exactly? Fighting’s the last thing
Skate needs to be messing with when he gets out.”

Only if you thought like a girl. Jake smiled.
“You can’t take fighting out of him, Romy. Mike runs a video game
design shop, about a hundred employees. Lots of fight scenes in the
games. I figure if Skate designed all those tattoos he’s wearing,
he’s a decent artist, and Mike will make sure he gets trained in
all the latest animation tools.”

Now the disbelief on Romy’s face warred with
hope. “You got him a shot at learning to design video game fight
scenes?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like it would fit him.”

Her eyes flooded. Shit, that wasn’t what he’d
been going for. He was no knight in shining armor. “There’s a
string attached.”

Now her eyes hardened; that was a lot easier to
deal with. “Name it.”

“Have dinner with me. Listen with an open mind
to what I have to say.”

“That’s it?”

Jake laughed. “What were you expecting?” On
second thought, he probably didn’t want to know. “Your ride, or
mine?”

Romy looked at his bike, and he could see desire
in her eyes. He tossed her the keys. “I’ll let you drive.”

They hopped on the bike. She was tiny enough he
could have wrapped his arms around her and driven himself, but
there was no need. He could tell she knew one end of a motorcycle
from the other, and he didn’t plan for them to stay on pavement for
long, anyhow.

Romy kicked them off and headed down the road
toward Albuquerque. There were none of the wiggles and squeals that
had come from the last girl he’d put on his bike. Just competent
driving and a grin he could see all the way through the back of her
head.

He looked around and made sure the road was
deserted. In New Mexico, that wasn’t a hard thing to come by.

“
I ask the power of earth and land,

Come on out, give me a hand.

Lift us high in the daybright sky

Hard work’s done, it’s time to fly.

Gotta do what must be done,

Make it so, Number One.”

When the bike lifted of the pavement and headed
for open sky, he got his wish. Romy squealed. And wiggled.

He wrapped his arms around her securely and
killed the engine. He liked the rumble, but it made talking pretty
much impossible. “Relax. I do this with all the pretty girls.”

She sat still as stone for almost an entire
minute. Then she began to laugh. It was the sound of absolute
freedom, and the heart of why he flew. Something inside him…
yearned.

Which was more than a little disturbing. For all
the normal guy reasons, and because his mom swore he would love
once, love deeply, and marry a brunette. You didn’t argue with one
of the world’s best fortunetellers.

Leaning forward, he grabbed the handlebars.
“Hang on.” He kicked up the speed and flew into a slow vertical
loop. Romy squealed again and reached for his arms—and sparks flew
out of her fingers.

Her voice was high and panicked. “Put us down.
Now.”

Crap—big mistake. He’d been so sure she would
enjoy that. “Sorry, I won’t do it again. Nice and steady all the
way to dinner, I promise.”