Witch in the Wind

by Deeks, B. C.

  Finally, he said the first thing that came to mind. “So d’you live in Bandit Creek?”

  She looked up at him to answer. “I grew up here but I left for college five years ago.”

  Her low-keyed voice stirred the hair on his neck like the soft stroke of a hand. He struggled to get his act together. What was she doing to him? He had questions to ask, information he needed to get from her. He tried again, “Come home often?” Damn!

  “What c’n I get ya?” Lucy appeared to take their order and he felt relieved. Relieved? What in hell was wrong with him? Tongue-tied, like a mortal fifth grader with a crush. He gave the server a forced smile and handed her the menu. “Rancher’s Breakfast, please Lucy.”

  Avy passed her menu back as well. “Just the coffee and a cinnamon bun, please.”

  “With or without icing?”

  At that, Avy smiled at the woman. “With, of course.”

  Lucy headed off to fill the order.

  Avy leaned towards him, elbows on the table. “Did you find out anything about Busby’s owner?” Her concern for the dog darkened her blue eyes to the color of storm clouds.

  “You know, in the country like this, a lot of dogs are just left to wander for any number of reasons.”

  Marcus ignored the bite of guilt as he stalled. He needed the beast gone. The familiar could block his access to the witch. Cause him no end of trouble if he had to break into her house at some point. But he hadn’t figured a way to separate them without bringing harm to either. Sometimes the Rules of Magic were damned inconvenient. “By the way, I didn’t see him outside.”

  “I left him home. I wasn’t sure he’d appreciate sitting outside for long. He might have howled right through breakfast.”

  Marcus was surprised the familiar went along with that plan, even if she barred him in the house. A familiar wouldn’t leave his witch’s side.

  Her smile slipped as she sighed. “What if someone comes looking for him later?”

  Marcus got it then. It wasn’t that she wanted to be sure the dog got back to its owner. She was afraid to love the dog in case his owner showed up to take him away from her.

  Suddenly, he thought she should know—no, he needed to make sure she knew—the familiar was there for her. His chest tightened for a second. What was he thinking? Was he trying to make his case more complicated? Looking into her tired, troubled eyes, he said, “I think it’s safe to assume The Fates sent Busby to you for a reason. No one’s looking for him, Avy. Busby’s yours if you want him.” Only the Fates could guess what that reason might be, at least for now.

  He watched the veil of tension lift. Her face lit up like a crystal ball. In response, his heart nudged his chest, sending a pulse to skirt the edge of some deep fracture in his core.

  “I feel like I’ve always known him. I love him so much.” Her voice was soft, filled with warmth, caring, and so many other fuzzy emotions, Marcus found himself wishing she was talking about him instead of the damn dog. He ground his teeth trying to wrestle back control of his stupid brain. Avy was giving him the opening he needed to dig into her background. “Did your parents let you have a dog as a kid?”

  She settled back in her seat looking more relaxed than he felt. “There always seemed to be animals coming and going from our place but my parents were kind of new-age-y. We didn’t own them. They just stayed as long as they wanted and then moved on.”

  He studied her face for signs she was being cagey about her parents but didn’t see anything. “What do you mean, new-age-y?” he asked. His friend, Kai, ran an animal rescue center with short stay animals just outside town. This sounded more casual.

  Her voice was flippant when she said, “You know. Granola-people. Back-to-nature types.” Then, Avy frowned and looked sad. “I don’t mean that in a bad way,” she said. “They just loved nature. Trees and animals, herbs. Everything about living in the country, I guess.”

  “And you didn’t.” He thought he was getting the picture. Magic came from nature, drawn from the earth, wind, air, water. For a witch to live in an urban center, away from her primary source of power, that would be draining.

  She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Ya know, I thought I hated the country.” She looked at him and shook her head as if now she couldn’t believe she’d felt that way. “I avoided coming back. My parents always came to see me, so I used that as an excuse to stay away.”

  Marcus stayed quiet hoping she would fill the silence. He wondered if her parents encouraged her to stay away. To keep her hidden? Maybe that’s why her aura was so weak.

  When she seemed lost in her thoughts, he prompted her. “Why didn’t you want to come back?”

  “By the time I was college age, I was so tired of being different.”

  He had to struggle to keep his body still. He didn’t want to show too much interest now that he might finally get his answers. “Different how?”

  She shrugged. Her face showed fatigue that went deeper than lack of sleep.

  “You’re new here,” she said. “But you’ll soon find that in small towns everyone lives the same, works the same, plays the same—”

  She looked up at him with remembered sadness in her eyes.

  “—worships the same.” She held his gaze for a few seconds. “My parents were pagan.”

  She continued to look at him in silence as if waiting for some pre-programmed response.

  It must be a mortal thing because he had no idea what that response was supposed to be. Finally, because she expected him to say something, he said, “Oh.”

  Without breaking her gaze from his face, her eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

  He figured when you don’t know what to say, silence is usually the best choice.

  Lucy’s timing was impeccable. She laid their food on the table and set the cutlery and napkins beside their plates. “More coffee?”

  While Avy doctored her brew and took a sip, Marcus stifled his frustration. He’d been about to get the truth about the Gwynns. He’d better get her talking again before she shut down for good. He opened his mouth to speak—

  But Avy put an end to his line of questioning. “So enough about me. Where’re you from?”

  While they ate their breakfast, he gave Avy his usual story of mother, father and one brother living in a close-knit community in Oregon. All true, except the Oregon part.

  Then they went back to dog issues. He was the town vet, so everyone thought. They discussed the negligence of owners who didn’t properly tag their pets, to the importance of dogs to the working ranches around Montana. He was left with no doubt the witch cared about animals. The light conversation also gave him a chance to study her. When she showed up at the clinic the day before, he’d thought she was using her familiar as an excuse to scout him out. Now he’d bet his wand she had no idea she was a witch, nor that he was anything more than the town vet. And as for her ‘lost dog’, she really seemed to think her familiar was just a stray dog. He was sure she didn’t know Busby was exactly where he wanted to be. He’d been sent to protect a witch in need of serious magical help. Who had sent him was still a big unknown.

  As they sipped the final refill on their coffee, Marcus added one more puzzling question to his growing list. Why does she need powerful reinforcements like a familiar if no one even knows she’s here?

  When they had finished, she reached for her cowboy hat and settled it on her head. He unhooked her jean jacket from the hook on her bench and held it for her as she slid her arms into the sleeves and shrugged it on. As he let go of the jacket his hands surprised him when they found their way to her shoulders and squeezed before he regained control over them. Without giving himself time to think, he ushered her ahead of him. He still didn’t know how much of her parents’ power she had and if she was able or willing to use it.

  Besides, she was a beautiful woman and he enjoyed her company. He was on a case but he wasn’t dead. He cast around for an excuse to stay.

  Avy followed his gaze to the poster on the wal
l. “I didn’t realize Bandit Days started today.”

  He smiled. “So what you’re wearing isn’t a costume?”

  She laughed glancing down at her jeans and cowboy boots. “Afraid not.”

  “Bandit Days is all anyone’s talked about for weeks at the clinic,” he said.

  “So you know what it’s all about?”

  “I think so. I wandered through an exhibit at the museum when I was here before. It gave a whole history of an old town that used to be where Lost Lake is now. There was a bank robbery in the mid-1800’s that was your equivalent of the Great Train Robbery.” He smiled at her. “But I still have to experience it. Wanna show me the ropes?”

  After paying the bill, and trying not to notice the curious stares from the other customers as they left together, they strolled over to Ellis Park where the main Bandit Days events were scheduled.

  The sun was high in the sky and the mountain air was clean, clear and fresh. A perfect day for celebration.

  “Isn’t that funny?” She was walking slightly ahead of him and made the comment without turning to him. Almost as if she was talking to herself.

  “What is?”

  “The children.” She swept her arm across the park taking in all the kids racing around on the new spring grass, waving toy guns and shouting ‘Stick ‘em up’ and ‘Hold it right there, dude’.

  “At Ma’s all the adults were dressed as bandits, the bad guys in black hats and kerchiefs. But here are all the kids dressing up as the good guys, as the sheriff. Why is that, do you think? Why does the good guy lose his appeal when we grow up?”

  The thought made Marcus stop. He remembered his own thoughts that morning as he grabbed Kai’s black cowboy hat to top off his own ‘costume’ of black shirt and jeans.

  I don’t know,” he said. That bothered him—a lot.

  Chapter Five

  In no rush, Marcus and Avy spent several hours wandering from one canopied kiosk to the next, chatting with the proprietors, tasting jams and cookies and admiring the knitted goods and handmade knickknacks along the way. At one point, he noticed a movement to their left and recognized Busby’s head as it ducked back behind the shrubs. He’d been right about the familiar. Avy may think she left him at home, but the beast was still watching over her, whether she liked it or not.

  The silence between them was comfortable, so Marcus took his time finding the best way to get Avy back on the topic of her family.

  Just then a small girl, dressed in a pretty, red gingham dress with a white wooly sweater for warmth, barreled towards them with her head turned to see if the little bandit behind her was gaining ground. Just as she brought her head forward, she barreled into Marcus’s legs and bounced back onto her bottom. She pushed a wave of white blond hair away from her face as her huge blue eyes followed the trail way up to his face. Her lower lip slid out and began to tremble.

  He quickly dropped into a crouch and said, in his worst western twang, “Don’t worry, little miss, I’ll protect you.” He made a gun with his hand and pretended to sweep it behind her. “It’s all clear, ma’am. May I assist you to your feet? ” He held his hand out to her but waited until she reached out to him before he helped her to her feet. The little girl giggled and headed back towards her mother who had been clearly preparing to come to the rescue.

  “That rescue by a handsome stranger will fill her dreams for years to come,” Avy said, laughing.

  “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” he replied, taking her hand as they continued their rounds of the park.

  “No handsome strangers I’m sorry to say, but lots of fun memories.”

  He wished he could enjoy a few moments more of uncomplicated companionship but he had to get back to digging into her background. “Did your parents bring you to Bandit Days every year?”

  Her laughter softened but the smile stayed on her lips. Her childhood memories must have been happy ones by the look on her face.

  “Mom always had a stall, so I’d spend the whole day in the park.”

  “A stall?” He had a mental picture of the Gwynns doing a corny magic show, reading minds, telling fortunes, making things appear and disappear, except they’d be doing it for real.

  Avy almost skipped as she got ahead of him and walked backwards so she could face him. Her mood seemed light, probably more her usual self. “She’d sell what Dad called her lotions and potions.” She emphasized the two words as if it were an inside joke.

  He found himself smiling along with her but lifted his eyebrows rather than ask the questions.

  Avy spun back to walk alongside him. He heard a sigh, and this time when she spoke, the grief had crept back into her voice.

  “Mom was a whiz at making herbal remedies for anything that ailed you, from baby rash to wrinkles, and stomach ulcers to athlete’s foot. The town doc always joked that she was putting him out of business.”

  Was her success from the use of herbs or her magic? Marcus knew the healing power of herbs. It wasn’t necessary to use magic if they were properly cultivated, selected and prepared.

  “What did your father do?” Surely, a formidable warlock like her father wouldn’t stop using his magic. It would be inconceivable to any of their families.

  “He mostly worked as a forest ranger.”

  He nearly laughed but clamped down on the urge before it escaped. The file listed Gwynn as an elemental warlock with extraordinary power with fire. A forest ranger?

  It took only a moment for the logic to click into place. Had there been any forest fires in Bandit Creek since 1911, he wondered. He’d verify but his gut told him there hadn’t. After what had happened to Old Town when they arrived, Gwynn continued to be a Guardian, this time protecting a town surrounded by mountains and forests. Hell, Gwynn could have sensed the smallest spark anywhere within county lines, and crushed it out. All without leaving his rocking chair if he’d wanted.

  Marcus imagined two witches exiled to the mortal world, hiding their innermost nature, surrounded by the primary sources of their power, the elements around them, and yet having to shut it out. He shivered. They’d been trapped in a prison worse than any Council rock prison. How had they survived? Then he looked at Avy and knew the answer.

  She was still talking about her father’s job.

  “—he loved to go up to the lookout towers. Sometimes, Mom and I would go with him and we’d look at the stars. My parents could name every one of them.” Her voice drifted off as she realized he was staring at her. “What?”

  There was no doubt in his mind the Gwynns had made the choice to raise their precious child in the mortal way and very thoughtfully rejected the idea of an Otherworld upbringing for her. He answered truthfully. “I was just thinking how great your parents must have been.”

  Her eyes shimmered with tears but she blinked them back. “Yeah, they really were.”

  He hated that he had to hit her with the tough questions now, while she was weak, vulnerable. Later, he decided. The questions could wait. He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. “Are you warm enough?”

  “Uh-huh.” Avy didn’t pull away. She wrapped her arm around his waist as if out of long habit and they continued their stroll through the park.

  Her side pressed against him as she took a deep breath. He liked that she seemed to enjoy being outside sensing the natural elements around her, the chill of the air, the slight movement of the earth beneath their feet, and all the sights and sounds of spring getting ready to give way to the warmth of summer.

  Then, in the next instant, the peace was shattered when an explosion split the air. Dust and wind rocked the park nearly knocking them to the ground. Instinct kicked in and Marcus swung his body to shield Avy from the source of the blast. He scanned the vicinity, every tree, stall, and trashcan. Anything that might hide an attacker or a second bomb. Silence—as if the whole town were suspended for a heartbeat. Then a cacophony of noise. Car alarms howled all around them, parents screamed for their ch
ildren.

  The earth vibrated with her displeasure and Marcus responded with his own magic to soothe and reassure.

  Magic sizzled in the air. Not a bomb, then. He sent a sensing spell out through the crowd, scanning for the source of the destructive spell. The trail led to the Ellis Bank where smoke was now seeping from a cracked window.

  Marcus expected the smoke to be laced with a lingering smell of sulpher, the footprint of magic. Yet the distinctive odor wasn't present. So an explosive spell hadn’t been used but that didn't mean magic hadn't been. A mortal could be controlled by any number of spells to set charges to blow up the bank. An employee could have been manipulated, like a puppet, to do the dirty work. That’s why, since the Coven Wars, only the governing families from The Otherland had been allowed through the portals. If ordinary witches were permitted to interact with the mortals, misuse of magic would be an irresistible temptation. Now, someone from his world was doing just that. And this time, it was more than two witches at risk. He looked back at the park filled with townspeople of all ages, men, woman and children. An image of the little blond cowgirl he'd met earlier flashed in his mind sending a chill through him. This time, it was a whole town of mortals who could have been hurt or killed.

  He ground his teeth to dispel the worry crawling over his skin. Slipping Avy’s hand into his, he elbowed their way through the crowd, which after their initial fright, seemed to have calmed to curiosity.

  He’d counted on having more time. To look around town, check out the Gwynns. Then there was Avy. An unexpected twist in his case. She needed time to get to know him. Trust him.

  Time had just run out. In the corner of his eye, he saw Sheriff Morgan and Deputy Medicine Crow hoofing it, at top speed, toward the bank and them. It was clear from the look on their faces that this was not part of the festivities.

  Hell and damnation, why did Kai have to be honeymooning? Marcus gave himself a mental shake. It wasn’t like him to get ahead of himself in an investigation. To get this tense.